#decided that I'm gonna start posting the AO3 link and also posting the things I write separately to Tumblr

[imagoddamnonionmason]

Unknown Soldier

Fandom: Call of Duty Word Count: 5985 (sorry) Summary:  Jodie Hall, callsign Bell, is faced with the revelation that she is not who she's been made to believe she is. Feeling betrayed, with memories rushing back, all she wants is a little bit of air.

A/N: Hello! This is a rewrite of the cutscene where Bell finds out they're brainwashed but written for my version of Bell! Hope you enjoy, pls let me know what you think :) Slight implied woods/bell, but at this point in the story they're not really a thing yet

Read on!

CIA SAFE HOUSE E9, “DIE LANDEBAHN” Jodie "Bell" Hall, MI6 52.5200 N, 13.4050 E, West Berlin March 14, 1981

As Bell worked to open her eyes, the lights above left sparking spots dancing across her vision. She attempted to block out that sickly light with her right hand, but found resistance against her limbs. Sluggishly, she moved her head to the side, eyes pained to focus on the leather straps that restricted her movement, that pinned her to the gurney beneath her back. Her mind was fogged, encased in a painful ache that even the tiniest movement made her stomach lurch and her body wishing it could anywhere but there. 

Beside the gurney was Sims, his arms folded over his chest and eyes watching her so very intently, scrutinising her, judging her. Bell may be feeling like her mind was a million miles away from her physical body, but she was not stupid; he was regarding her with a deep seated hatred and it burned her skin. 

He muttered, calling out to someone, “she’s coming to.” 

In an instant, Adler was in their presence, leaning over her as he placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. The grip was tight, edging towards being painful, and Bell winced against the pain. He did not care, instead, his voice loomed over her, deep and assertive, “Bell, no more fucking around. What did Perseus say? Where is he?” 

Her eyes met his, though her sight was blurred, fighting incredibly hard to focus. There was a brief thought that danced across her mind, as the fog started to rise and her brain began to settle down from whatever heights it had been at before. Her head shifted back, an attempt to put more space between her and Adler, only for the gurney to keep her rigidly in place; the thoughts became clearer, incessant, and she found that the voice in her head grew louder than the voice of the man before her. It screamed that she was clueless, lost, and everything was a lie. 

Her voice was small, as her sweat slicked brow furrowed, “who am I?” 

There was a flicker of derision on Adler’s scarred features, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, soon replaced by a concern that did not sit right with Bell. His voice grew soft, levelled with a sense of urgency, “you’re disoriented, Bell. We’ll explain everything later. Right now, we need to help each other.” 

Her dark eyes remained on him for a moment longer, growing darker as clarity finally came about her. Memories flashed across her mind’s eye, so quickly that the course of events overlapped and flitted in a slurry of blurred images, headache inducing and raw. The drugs that had pumped through her system burned inside her veins, the ingenuity of her captors seared across her skin as their eyes bore straight through her. These people wouldn’t help her, they had her tied down to a damn gurney. 

“Bullshit,” she spat, lurching against the restraints. 

“Bullshit is what your whole life will amount to if you don’t come clean.” Adler leant closer, a sneer on his features as a low growl roughened the edges of his vocals, “tell us where Perseus is.” 

While Adler and Sims were settled by the left of the gurney, Park stepped into the light by the right and her hands came to rest on Bell’s forearm - it was a calmer sensation, gentle in some way, a reminder that Bell might still have someone. But there was the instinctual desire to tear herself away, denied the right by the restraints. 

Park spoke, as softly and calmly as her touch attempted to coerce Bell to feel, “you were one of Perseus’ agents, Bell, and his associate, Arash Kadivar, turned on you at the airstrip in Turkey. He left you for dead.” 

She was partly right. Bell could feel it, knew it, deep down, that there was a truthful essence to those words; but they had it completely wrong, too. At the edges of the very recesses of her conscious mind, after all the drugs, the conditioning, there were glimpses of memories that belonged to the woman that Bell once was. After a second of reaching for them, desperately clinging to that consciousness, she found that those memories came forward, rushing at her in a cold wash of dread. 

In her fingerless gloved hands, a thick file, filled to the brim with bountiful knowledge that, in the right hands, could end Perseus in his steps and see him rot in Hell. Her eyes settled over the Russian text, reading it over and over, as a reluctance to hand it over to her counterpart weighed heavy in her chest. 

This is the information that she had been asked to collect, to give to Agent Wells when they next met, and yet she could not find an ample opportunity to stash it away. Eyes were on her, ever present and lingering, as though they knew exactly what part she was playing. 

The hand of Arash Kadivar is out to her from her right, waiting expectantly, urged to hand over the files with the slight wiggle of his index and middle fingers. Forcing herself not to hesitate, Nadežda placed the files in his hand, the mask over her face hiding the reluctant grimace that flashed across it. 

Arash opened the file, flicked through the pages, nodding as though something had been confirmed to him. He looked at her, offered her a cocky smile, then spoke, “when the plane leaves Trabzon, it stops in Duga. This you know.” 

Nadežda nodded, brows twitching into a short lived furrow, as her heart skipped a few beats - the palpitations did not last long, willed away by the strength of her resolve to complete her mission. She had come so far and she was not about to lose sight of the end goal now. 

“Here’s what you don’t know,” he continued, tilting his head slightly, as though gauging her reaction, “Perseus won’t be there.” 

Now this was new information, a dash in the plans that she had not foreseen coming. Perhaps, she thought, these differences were ironed out in a meeting that she was not able to be present for, and could only hope for that to be the truth. But, Nadežda knew that the entire faction played with the semantics of the word truth, she played with it, and so found herself unable to commit to that notion. 

She was singled out for a reason and her palms grew sweaty, as she tried her best to hide the nervous anticipation of Arash’s next words. 

In turn, Arash waved his hand out to gesture at the collection of men and women working along the airstrip, the sight coming into view as they began to arrive. They were loading weapons into the plane that sat patiently on the airstrip, “none of these hired guns are going to leave Duga alive. We’ll dump their bodies in the forest. Then we will move the weapons to Volkov in Berlin.” 

He handed the file back to Nadežda, though did not let go of it for a second. He was attempting to shake her confidence, to cause a fracture in her well designed facade, and he was met with failure. 

“From there, we fly to Solovetsky,” the truck growled and spluttered, wheels screeching as the driver pushed his foot flat against the brake. The three bodies lurched forward with the ending motion. Nadežda hovered in her seat for a moment longer, as Arash stepped out of the vehicle and closed the door. The window had been set down, which now had Arash leaning over the lip of it. He ducked his head down, his shoulders bouncing in low-levelled laughter, before the chuckle grew into something mocking and scornful.  

Arash spoke, words laced with disappointment and contempt, “Perseus has other plans for you, though. He thought so highly of you. Then it turns out you’re nothing but a traitorous dog.” 

The dread had grown exponentially in her stomach, heavy and cool, driving ice through her veins and urging her body to react to the man drawing his pistol on her. However, she was taken off guard and though her reactions were fast, they were not enough to stop the event that was in motion. 

As she began to aim her pistol at Arash, the bullet fired from his own and shredded straight through her upper left chest. It threw her body heavily against the door, blood splattering from the open wound and onto the frame. Nadežda knew she should feel pain, but instead she felt nothing, as adrenaline dulled it down to such an impossibly low level. It was screaming at her to use its masking to get away, to run, but all she could do was slump forward and try to protect the file she still had in her hands. 

Arash then shot the driver, before he opened up the door and snatched the files from her hands. 

“You can bleed out,” Arash snarled, “and while you die, know that everything you tried to do has amounted to fucking nothing.” 

Desperately, sluggishly, she tried to reach for the files, but he pushed her away, leaving her to slowly fade into unconsciousness. 

A voice broke through her reverie, booming, agonising, “we were there, Bell, we found you after everything went down.” 

That’s right. She remembered the blistering heat of explosions, gunfire, screams, agonising screams- 

Her door was pulled open, violently, and the stale air that clung to her dying form was sucked away as though caught in a vacuum. Hands were on her. Searching. Hands were on every inch on her but they found nothing but her blood. Gasping breath wracked her lungs, inflating them weakly as her own hands began their own blind search. They sought after the person next to her, fingers feebly clutching at unknown fabric. 

End it. 

You’ve come back to finish the job. 

Do it. 

“Over here! We’ve got a live one!” 

American? 

He’s American. 

One name was present on her chapped lips, but her eyes could not focus on the blurred figure that pulled her up from her slouched position. 

“Wells?” 

No- No, it hadn’t been Wells, had it? It had been the bastard that had the nerve to stand beside her now, right? She couldn’t remember everything, no matter how much she fought to cling to the nuances; they were always just out of reach, just beyond her, and her instincts, again, screamed ‘don’t fucking trust anything. It's all lies. Lies.’ 

Through gritted teeth, tortured vocals hounded, “you’re lying- you put this shit in my head. You’re fucking lying-” 

Impatience grew thick around Adler and his hands were back on Bell’s shoulders, shaking them, as he barked, “the CIA reinvented you, Bell. You fought against us every interrogation. You left us no choice. We gave you a new identity to replace the old.” 

Flashes of those interrogations seared across her mind, burning holes and leaving scars. She’d never said a word and if she did, it was only ever to utter Agent Wells’ name. He’d told her not to trust any other agent, that the CIA had been compromised by a mole. She couldn’t have risked the information she had getting into the wrong hands, even if she was already destined for a destructive path. The last thing she would do in the face of her betrayal to Perseus was to make sure the information she had either reached Wells or died with her. 

Adler continued, a hollow laugh filling the air, “it was Park’s idea to make you MI6. She wanted that bond with you. You even picked up a bit of her accent.” 

Park tried her best to offer the woman before her a genuinely concerned, reassuring smile, but she was never able to tell whether Bell appreciated the effort. Her light eyes then focused on her colleague, brows furrowing as he continued, guilt beginning to sow seeds in her chest. His voice was quieter now, “we were able to utilise your language, your cryptography skills, they were an added bonus. The bigger challenge was your memory.” 

Park interjected, hoping that her softer tones might be more palatable, begging that Bell could read between the lines and see that they did only what they thought was right, “the CIA’s MK-Ultra program used Adler’s missions in Vietnam as a template. We needed you to have that shared experience. A lifelong bond. We needed you to trust us, Bell.” 

Bell hated that she could feel tears threaten to fall, as her throat clenched, sharp pains coursing down and into her chest, “you people are sick.” 

Adler moved away, pointing in her direction with a judgemental glare, “are your hands clean, Bell?” 

Again, she moved to rise, her anger flaring in the pit of her stomach, only for her dive for the other to be restricted, “fuck this- fuck you.” 

His voice was ravaged by disgust, cold and menacing, “I don’t think so. You’re still holding back on us, and we are going to get it out of you.” 

She felt sick. 

She wanted to throw up. 

To cave in on herself. 

To fade. 

Bell felt a whimper form in her throat, but would rather die than allow anyone to see her give in to her fear. 

Then, he muttered, “we have a job to do.” 

Her brain felt like it had just had a thousand volts of electrical current run through every synapse, crackling and stunning every inch of her being. It was like her emotions were torn from her, a factory reset taking over and forcing her into a baseline. Whatever she had been thinking about before, whatever memories from the past she had fought to hold onto, they were snatched within an instant and everything became a blinding white. 

On the gurney, she convulsed, writhing and screaming in pain, as part of her battled against the conditioning. 

In the end, she lost. 

That white light scorched her sight, overtaking her vision, until flashes of a red door were all she could see. It was to her left. Then her right. Behind her. In front. It was all consuming, following her, unrelenting and torturous. 

“The trigger phrase kept you in line, but it didn’t get us everything we needed,” Adler informed, now too invested in this reveal to give a damn about what this would mean for his subject. Did he even care to begin with? 

The red door was now in front of her, the force of it dropping from above driving its base deep into a greyed concrete floor. Wherever she was, it was vague enough that she couldn’t place it in the real world. She was everywhere and nowhere, all at once. 

“Your innermost secrets were always locked behind a door.” He added, then a sigh heaved through his nose, a tired look on his features as he came to stand by her left. His hands were on the gurney, taking the weight of his upper body as he leant forward, contemplative, “Bell, I realise you probably hate us right now.” 

“Fucking understatement,” she spat. 

“I need you to fully understand the stakes here. What you do right now is not about me, it’s not about you. It’s about millions of other fucking people. It’s about stopping someone who, in the end, has no true allegiance to anyone other than himself.” Adler clearly felt proud with that speech, and he removed his sunglasses to aid in gauging Bell’s thoughts. He kept his eyes locked with hers, intently searching the brown hues for any nuances, any flickers, something he could recognise as winning. He spoke impossibly soft, “tell me, Bell.” 

A beat. 

“Where is Perseus?” 

Before her stood the man that had been with her since she was a child. Eyes that had once regarded her warmly, fatherly, now did so with cold synergy. She did not know what went on behind those eyes, she could never read his thoughts, nor could she even begin to understand the complexity that was him, Perseus, and so had given up trying years since. That had been until she had come across a wayward file, written words never intended for her own eyes to see and it had been the first glimpse into the kind of man that he was, the kind of man that shaped a child into a soldier and promised her everything, but gave her nothing. 

For years she had known what he had done, that those eyes were filled to the brim with fallacies and delusions, contorted into orders and manipulation. Those were the years that she had spent sick to her stomach, playing a game of chess with the man that held all the cards. All the lies she had told, the lies she had lived, the lies she would continue to tell would all amount to nothing if she did not stick with it at this moment. She had to continue, to persevere. 

His hands rested on her shoulders, as he offered her a warm smile that did not reach his eyes. In their native tongue, he spoke, addressing her tenderly, as a father would a daughter, “once we control the Greenlight arsenal, Nadežda, we will detonate them all from the safety of Solovetsky.” 

The word ‘safety’ rang in her ears and she was reminded again why she was finally breaking free from his hold. 

He had promised safety to her brother and he shattered it himself. 

“Yes, from the safety of Solovetsky,” she had echoed. 

“This is your chance to define who you really are, Bell. Tell us, where is Perseus?” Adler let the desperation slip through into his tone and Bell closed her eyes. They stung from the tears that wanted to form, that threatened to fall, but she wouldn’t let them. Eventually, when she opened up her eyes, she forced her gaze to stare at the ceiling. She could hear Perseus’ voice echoing against the inside of her skull and her rage began to build again.

 Bell had been betrayed by Perseus her entire life, fed his lies over and over; then, agent Wells who had made her believe that she couldn’t have trusted those that now currently stand around her, he had betrayed her, too. 

But whether she trusted Adler, Park and the rest now, or not, did not matter. 

This was it, everything she could remember doing, everything she had fought for, what she had been destroyed for, it all came down to her next words.

Quietly, she murmured, “Solovetsky… It’s Solovetsky Monastery.” 

He echoed her, then turned to Sims, “Sims, get Washington on the line. Everyone else, gear up, we’re leaving now.” 

As Sims left the room, Bell was released from the restraints by Adler, “you made the right choice, Bell, come on, you’re still one of us.”

He moved to help her sit up, but she shrugged him off, pushing him away and seething, “don’t fucking touch me.” 

“Bell,” Park started, then switched up, “Jodie-” 

“Shut the fuck up-” Bell fought to get off the gurney as quickly as she could. Beside Park was a metal tray nestled atop a table, the contents being the copious amounts of drugs and the used needles that had kept Bell compliant throughout the session. Bell stumbled, knocking into this table, the tray clattering as her hand caught the lip of it in an attempt to steady herself. Adler and Park motioned to help, but Bell swatted them away and shot to the entryway of the room. 

Leaning against the doorframe, she felt her stomach flip, empty of contents, but bile sloshing uncomfortably against the lining. It wanted to rise up her throat, burning the flesh raw. But, she ignored that feeling, willed it away, and pushed herself onward until she was in the open, stale air of the safe house. Her heart was pounding painfully against her ribcage, to a point where she believed that, if it beat hard enough, it would burst through the bone as though it was nothing but brittle china. 

Eyes were on her. One set was hidden behind darkened glasses, steadily trailing her form and remaining stoic in the face of the situation; it was to be expected, the man was like ice. Hudson stood, leant at an angle against what he had claimed as his desk, arms folded over his chest as he kept a hawklike watch on her actions. 

The other two sets were nestled by the van and their owners moved their sight to her, warily concerned, as they rose from their seated positions. Mason began to walk towards hers, hand out to help steady her, but she quickly stepped back. He hovered in place, then withdrew his hand and retreated from her. His tones were laced with a cold sensation, torn at the edges, and his eyes glowered at the direction of the room she had just come from. Mason could feel a heat burning in his chest, spreading like a wildfire until the anger singed at his fingertips and lapped at the edges of his mind. Sharply, he asked, “Is Adler finished with you?” 

His question did not reach her. All she wanted was air, cool and refreshing and free of anyone else. 

Bell needed to be outside. She needed to be out of the damn safe house, out of their company. 

She wanted out. 

“I need some air,” was all she could breathe, taking brisk steps past the man before her. Mason turned his body to follow after her, but froze himself to the spot, as he shot Woods a look. He was speaking volumes without having to use his voice and Woods knew better than anyone that Mason was pissed. 

There was part of him that asked when does this kind of thing end? It should have ended with him. Yet, here he was, staring after a woman who had been put through the same horrendous agony. Maybe, deep down, he knew that this is what had become of that woman from the airstrip, but to have it confirmed… it caused a rage he’d not felt in years to boil up. 

He supposed this was just another thing Hudson had kept from him, from Woods. Perhaps it’s because they would have shot it down, the idea of destroying someone completely and utterly. Who knows? And in that moment, Mason quite frankly couldn’t have given less of a fuck about the reasons. 

At the exit of the safehouse, Bell was slumped headfirst against the door, hands fumbling about the face of it in search of the handle. She felt as though she was drunk, body battling the effect of the drugs that had been pumped through her veins. Her ears were ringing, pulsating, and with each throb she felt her heart ache more intensely than it had seconds before. As she focused on steadying her breathing, she didn’t acknowledge the sounds of voices behind her, gaining on her position. 

“Bell, do not go through that door,” it was Adler. He was firm, cold, and his footsteps were frantic as they approached. Her hand finally grasped the cold doorknob, twisting it in a stubborn response to his order, but before she could escape into the cool air outside, his hands were on her. 

The second she felt his touch on her, she turned on him like a wild animal. Her sight was entirely consumed by pounding red, like fire scorching her skin and lighting a fury in her core. The rage coiling within her chest burned so violently, blindly, that she was acting before her mind could quell it. Instinct was in control now, leading the charge against the threat it perceived in Adler. In one quick thrust, her enclosed fist flew out to strike his face. Her knuckles collided with his chin, rocking him backwards. 

He took a few stumbling steps, but ultimately he remained standing, a hand cupping the area that she had made contact with. His glasses were gone, the force of the hit throwing them from his features, leaving behind the unobstructed thinning glare he sent her way. 

“I said, don’t fucking touch me,” she seethed, as their team came to stand between them. Woods was by her side, hands hovering over her; he didn’t want to touch her, less he received the same treatment Adler had. One thing he noted, however, was that she didn’t even acknowledge his presence. Bell acknowledged no-one, other than Adler, and her searing glare burned right through him and to the man behind. 

“Take a walk, Bell,” Woods uttered, shooting a daring glance over his shoulder, wishing someone would just try and say that she couldn��t. If he had to, he’d stand and guard the damn door. 

“She’s not going outside alone,” Adler muttered, as Park tugged him back further into the safe house.

“You goin’ to stop her,” Woods snapped, turning away from the woman that was still at his side. He could still feel that glare, hear the steadying deep breaths fill her lungs as she fought the rage within her. He then snapped at her, “I said take a walk.” 

He accentuated his words with a firm point to the door, his arm hovering just over her right shoulder. It was then that she broke her eye contact with Adler, sending that hateful gaze towards Woods; the heat faltered when it was faced with this new person, lessening considerably. It was then that he saw it, the slight crack of a facade he hadn’t even realised she’d been wearing. There was the slight ghost of tears welling in her waterline, but Woods didn’t have the opportunity to see if they came to fruition, as she was turning and throwing herself through the door like her very life depending on escaping. 

It slammed, leaving behind the team in silence. 

As most moved back into the safe house, Woods remained by the door, head ducked down as he thought, his thumb running circles over his forefinger. If she hadn’t done it, he would have probably hit Adler himself, as similar rage was settling in the pit of his stomach. Part of him wondered if he should be angry, whether he had a right, and the questions left a bitter taste in his mouth. He took a deep breath, followed by biting his lower lip to fight against the grimace of bitterness on his face. 

He didn’t want to admit that he had gotten too attached, too close, and now he was left adrift in a million questions with no sail to guide him through. Bell was on their side, she had fought alongside them, saved Park’s life and now he was supposed to believe that she had been one of Perseus’ most trusted? It didn’t fit. 

“If she runs,” Adler had called out to him as Woods fought his internal monologue, “it’s on you.” 

Woods settled his gaze on him, cold, icy, and he wondered if it was worth telling him to go fuck himself. He settled, for once, on ignoring that impulse and moved to go through the door, the same one that Bell had used to escape into the outside. 

As he moved into the night evening air, he felt the slight chill in the wind cling to his body, begging to break past the leather of his body warmer. Initially, Woods couldn’t spot where the woman had disappeared to. He hated to admit it, but for a second he wondered if she had taken the opportunity to run. Who could blame her, though, in the face of what had just happened within the walls of the safehouse. Woods had never seen her so emotive, so unstable, and her professional facade had shattered right there in front of their eyes. But, if he knew her as well as he thought he did she wouldn’t have gone far. Bell wouldn’t run, not from this, not from anything. 

Taking a few steps forward, Woods squinted against the harsh sickly lights that shone from the sides of the safehouse wall. They illuminated the surrounding area, until the light slowly faded to the depths of shadows a couple metres out. His gaze focused there, in that dark evening ambiance and hope that she hadn’t wandered that way out. 

“I see Adler sent a guard dog after me.” There was bitterness to the stressed tones, a slight waver, that usually was absent, wracking the vocals. He swung his head to the left, following those indignant tones until he was met with the image of Bell leaning against the wall. There were a few discarded pallets, stacked high next to her and they created a small shaded spot for her to hide in. The only show that anyone was there was the gentle silhouette and the occasional glow of red as a cigarette burned. As he stepped, cautiously, closer, Bell's sight remained steadfast in its forward gaze, darkened eyes refusing to acknowledge the company she now had. 

She brought the cigarette to her lips, drawing in a long, deep inhale of smoke. It remained, pooling in her lungs until a rush of short lived relaxation washed over her and then she exhaled. 

“He hasn’t sent anyone,” Woods retorted, gruffly, frowning as he came to a stop next to the pallets, “I came out here ‘cause I wanted to.” 

Her eyes moved, downcast, as she flicked away ashes that clung to the end of her cigarette. 

“Listen, Jodie-” His tones were considerably soft, something not many had the privilege of being the subject of. 

“Don’t call me that.” She snapped, instantly, growing rigid at the name. 

“But that’s who you are-” He urged, annoyance clinging to his throat. 

“You haven’t got the slightest clue who I am,” she seethed, voice wavering once again.  

He crossed his arms over his chest, gloved hands tensing as he stared at her incredulously, “are you kiddin’ me?” 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” 

A beat.

“What are you even doing out here, Woods? I don’t remember asking you to follow me. I don’t want you here.” She moved to spare a fleeting glance his way, as she shifted uncomfortably against the wall. 

“Well tough shit, cause I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Was all he said in response, trying his best to stunt the feeling of growing annoyance at the way she spoke to him; he had to understand that she had every right to be angry, to be belligerent and aggressive and seething. Damn, he’d be worse if the roles were reversed. 

Silence fell over the two, as Woods pulled out his own packet of cigarettes. He pulled one for himself, then offered her one. 

She did not take it. 

As he lit his, the glow of red fading over his face with each attempt to get the lighter to work, he was posed a question. If he didn’t know any better, he might have flown off the handle, but right now he supposed Bell was reevaluating those around her. 

“Did you know?” 

“What-” 

“Did you know?” She cut him off, lips thin and tight over the snarl that erupted along with those repeated words. She didn’t have time to play games and she was tired of the constant mental chess she had been forced to play with the others. 

“No.” 

The unconvinced scoff that formed in her chest was heavy and she shook her head as she muttered, “really? You expect me to believe that.” 

“Yeah, actually, I do,” he griped, “you really think I’d have let them brainwash you?” 

Pushing herself from the wall, she yelled, “I don’t know what to think, Frank, because ten minutes ago I was Jodie Hall, MI6, and now I’m some brainwashed terrorist.”

Wiping a hand over her mouth, there were waves upon waves of distress and anxiety that were almost tangibly rolling over her body. If she hadn’t covered her mouth, she feared that she would have said much more than she was willing to admit. There was part of her that was relishing in being free, letting her emotions escape and ransack the outside world; then the other part hated being so vulnerable. 

Silence fell over the two and though it was tense, rigid, Woods didn’t want to leave her. There was nothing he could say, or do, that could make this revelation any easier on her and he wasn’t entirely sure why he decided to stick around. But he did and he didn’t plan on leaving any time soon. 

He eventually found himself looking at his feet, then at anywhere but her, only for his attention to be pulled back to her when she let out a scoff, something akin to a vindictive chuckle. He silently waited for her to speak, as it seemed that there was something on her mind and Woods worried that if he interjected, she might close up.

“You know what’s funny?” 

A beat. 

“I thought about lying.” She said, her features haunted by a vacant, ghostly reverie, “I thought about sending the lot of you to Duga, to chase after nothing.” 

She stubbed out the cigarette on the wall before discarding the butt to the floor, a hollow laugh rattling through her aching chest, “I imagined what your faces would look like, being betrayed. Maybe you’d all feel a fraction of what it’s like. To be fucked over.” 

There was a heavy feeling in his chest, brows furrowing further as he watched a dark look come about the woman before him. Before he had a chance to catch the words, they were out in the open, snapping, “then why didn’t you?” 

Bell looked up and quietly regarded him. She was doing what she usually did, reading his features, gauging his reactions. Her eyes locked with his and there was the hint of tears forming in her eyes again. But, she didn’t cry, unable to allow herself to reveal any vulnerability. 

“Why didn’t you lie, Jodie?” 

“I…” She faltered. 

She ducked her head down, then to the side as she fought the tears, the burning tightness in her throat. If she spoke now, the tears would fall, her voice would crack and she couldn’t risk him seeing her so weak. Bell motioned to move away from him, to run from this situation and fade back into the shadows where she could silently cry but Woods’ hand gently took hold on her forearm. He softly guided her to stand before him, the lights now allowing him to see her features clearly. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes red-rimmed, and her lips quivered. His hand gave her arm a slight squeeze; it wasn’t much in the form of comfort, but she knew what he was trying to do. 

Then, she cleared her throat, fought to push out the words, “because I don’t matter.” 

She inhaled sharply and she uttered the next words almost to convince herself that she had done the right thing, that she had made the right choice; after all, everything she had done over the last few years, the pain she had endured, it was all coming to a head. 

Stopping Perseus is what she had been aiming for, right? 

Saving millions of lives is why she had betrayed the faction in the first place, right?

After everything awful she had done for that man, after the lives she had taken, ruined, destroyed she supposed it made sense that this was the way her story came to an end.

 Her voice was barely above a whisper, “what’s one more sacrifice…” 

Pulling away from him, she began to walk back into the safe house, leaving Woods to watch after her retreating form. She had no intention of speaking with anyone else; there was nothing left to talk about other than do one singular thing.

Stop Perseus.

[chickenbyday]

.

[darkwitchoferie]

My Master lists

Decided to put together a masterlist of my writing, divided by fandom. I dunno, it's partly for my own benefit too actually. So I can find what I'm looking for when I want it. There's not much, but I'm also gonna include the link to my AO3 for the stuff I never cross-posted.

Stray Kids

First things first - this is just a blanket disclaimer for my Stray Kids fics. These stories are just for fun and not meant to accurately depict the real life individuals portrayed in them.

Jealousy - You’ve been dating Chan for a while and he takes you as his date to a JYPE party. There, he notices how close you are to Felix and jumps to some conclusions.

Train Ride - You start off as just Chan’s beloved girlfriend and end up in bed with all the members. **Now cross posted to ao3**

Original Oneshot Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

The Moment He Knew You Were The One - You're dating Chan and start to notice some odd behavior from the guys

Best Friends to Lovers - This is a series of unconnected, smutty oneshots in which the fem!reader has been best friends with the various members since childhood/teen years. Most are idol!skz, but Hyunjin and Felix’s are college!aus. All have happy endings. Minho and Seungmin have two stories, the first is a threesome story (Minho&Jisung and Seungmin&Changbin) while the second is a solo story.

Chan Minho (Solo) Changbin Hyunjin Jisung Felix Seungmin (Solo) Jeongin

Horny Texts - You're horny and texting bf!skz about it. That's it.

Roommate Chan - You and your best friend/roommate Chan have a close relationship. The kind that your other friends think is weird and chases off potential romantic partners. You share a bed when one of you can’t sleep, which is often, but one night, you think he kisses you. When he denies it, you decide it’s time to pull away for your own mental health.

Fic Recs: Chan 2 Minho Changbin Hyunjin Jisung Felix Seungmin Jeongin OT8 2 Multi-members

Stranger Things (Steddie)

Accidentally In Love - Steve and Eddie have been dating for months, but neither of them have noticed until Robin and Nancy confront them about it.

Rosary - Eddie’s in the hospital after his heroics in the Upside Down. Steve and Wayne sit together, waiting for him to wake up.

Too Much - Steve knows he’s too much, he always has been. And he knows it’s the main reason he can’t make a relationship last, so he tries pulling away from Eddie before it’s too late and he loses him too.

Larkspur and Lily of the Valley - Steve has a cough and thinks it's allergies, until a blue petal comes up. (Happy ending Hanahaki au)

I may one day link my fic recs here for Steddie, but I didn't tag them when I reblogged them, so probably not.

[seiya-starsniper]

I wish you would write a fic where...

…Hob is a little insecure about his body in comparison to Dream. Dream is wondering why his love only wants to have sex in the dark…

I need some hurt/comfort 🥹

Oh man friend, I started writing this thinking it wouldn't be super long and then 9.7k words later...😅

Still gonna post the whole thing on tumblr since this IS a tumblr prompt, but it's probably best read on AO3 for length reasons lmao. I hope you enjoy this angst train!

AO3 Link: Cruel Summer

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - America, Developing Relationship, Casual Sex, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, body image issues

Also tagging @dreamlingbingo as I'm using this fill for my free space!

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

The first time it happens, Dream doesn't think too much about it. There's not a lot of thinking going on period, not really. Dream's only focused on the touch and taste and feel of Hob Gadling’s body against his as they drunkenly make out against the latter’s front door.

They’d been out tonight celebrating with their friends, all of them having finally achieved some hard earned life goal. Matthew and Jessamy were engaged, and planning a marriage out on Cape Cod the following summer, Lucienne had gotten promoted as an archivist at Harvard, Mervyn had finally launched his own cybersecurity firm, and Dream had just signed a publishing deal for the novel he’d been working on for the past two years. His editing team was even based out of Boston, even if their main headquarters was in New York, which made Dream’s life much easier. 

Hob…well. Hob’s celebration was more muted than the rest. He’d just landed a job at Harvard as well, working as a professor, so he and Lucienne were now technically coworkers. And while it was a fantastic opportunity with decent pay, and mostly free summers, it had come at the cost of his relationship with Eleanor, his longtime girlfriend. 

Eleanor had accepted a job across the country working as a marketing lead for a lifestyle clothing brand based out of Seattle. She’d wanted the position more than anything, but Hob hadn’t wanted to move, so they broke up. Hob insists it was all amicable, and that he’d miss everyone too much if he’d actually left, but they all knew Hob had been thinking about proposing.

Dream knows all this, and yet, when it had just been the two of the left at the bar and Hob had started openly flirting with him alone, instead of just playfully flirting with every single one of their friends, Dream had decided, “why not”, and matched the other man’s energy until they were suddenly making out just outside the bar while they waited for the Uber Hob called for them. It’s still the beginning of summer and not terribly hot outside, but Dream’s still grateful for the cool AC of the car that eventually comes to get them to drive the short distance back to Hob’s apartment.

When Hob finally unlocks the door and they practically fall into the front hall, Dream messily kicks off his shoes and works his way towards undoing Hob’s belt in between kisses. Hob wrangles them down the hall and towards his bedroom and Dream thinks vaguely about turning on the lights when they finally cross the threshold. But then Hob pushes him down into the mattress and Dream stops thinking about anything at all. 

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

The second time that it happens, a little over a month later, Dream is helping Hob clean up his apartment after their monthly movie night with their friends. They had all decided on rewatching Jurassic Park after Mervyn and Lucienne had gotten into a debate on whether or not dinosaurs looked stupid with or without feathers. But it had taken the group some time for them to even start the movie, since they had mostly gotten wrapped up with different bits of work and life gossip. It was rare that they were all able to get together like this, so the movie was a secondary concern for them.

During the movie, however, Matthew and Jessamy’s wedding planner called them about something that needed their attention immediately, and though they said it was fine to keep the movie running, they’d paused it anyways. Not even ten minutes after they wrapped up their call, Mervyn had to take a work call from a client suffering from some server issues. 

Needless to say, it was nearly midnight by the time they finished the movie, and since only Dream and Hob had nothing to do the next morning, Dream had offered to stay late to help clean up and then crash on Hob’s couch for the night.

That is, at least, the story they tell their friends. The dishes and the food end up abandoned as Hob pushes Dream into the couch cushions and palms his cock through his black jeans. Dream moans and ruts beneath the other man, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling Hob in for a desperate, filthy kiss. They make out like teenagers for what seems like hours, the taste of buttery popcorn and overly sweet margarita mix mingled in every kiss. Dream isn’t nearly as drunk as he was that first night, but he’s got a pleasant buzz going, which really only adds to the whole illicit nature of what they’re doing. Neither of them had mentioned the first time they’d fucked to any of their friends, they’d barely talked about just between the two of them, really. 

Dream had figured maybe they could talk about it tonight after everyone had gone home but well. He’d gotten distracted with Hob’s mouth.

When they finally move from the couch to the bedroom, Dream turns the lights on, but then Hob turns them right back off as Dream’s getting undressed. 

“Are you one of those people who prefers to have sex in the dark?” Dream asks, laughing as Hob crawls on top of him, shedding his shirt and underwear along the way. 

“Mmmm,” Hob says, putting his mouth on Dream’s neck instead of answering the question. Dream gasps as the other man bites down on that one sensitive spot just below his ear. “Don’t wanna get up later to turn them off.”

Dream hums, and that’s the end of that conversation as his mind floats away to far more interesting pursuits.

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

The third time almost feels like a date. Almost. They don’t exactly plan to get together, just the two of them, it just sort of happens because Matthew had gotten sick, and Jessamy hadn’t wanted to leave him alone to fend for himself. She also wasn’t entirely sure if she was contagious herself and wanted to be safe. Mervyn was on call for a client this weekend so he wasn’t going out with them anyways, and Lucienne had decided she’d rather stay at home and catch up on some of her backlogged work rather than attend the Oktoberfest event they’d all bought tickets to. 

Hob had texted Dream individually and suggested they go out anyway, just the two of them, and Dream’s heart had stuttered in his chest when he’d read the message. Hob had suggested a new restaurant that had opened up near his apartment, and while it wasn’t necessarily a first date sort of place, it was still a bit nicer than any of the places they’d go with their friends for just drinks or a quick bite to eat. 

Dream agonizes for over an hour on what he should wear, before he ultimately defaults to what feels most natural to him, black jeans and a solid black polo instead of his usual band t-shirt, which he then pairs with a charcoal gray blazer, just to look a little nicer. But not too nice, just in case this isn’t a date. 

Hob, much to Dream’s disappointment, is in his regular outfit of a graphic tee and sweats when Dream arrives. He’s not terribly out of place in the restaurant, but he’s clearly not dressed to impress. He eyes Dream very appreciatively though, and doesn’t comment on why Dream’s a little more dressed up than usual. What he does do, however, is spend the evening whispering into Dream’s ear about how he’d like to peel that blazer off Dream and make him wear it while they fuck.

They only make it through a single round of drinks before they leave, with Hob leaving their server behind a more than generous tip for wrapping up their bill so quickly. 

Hob wastes no time divesting Dream of his blazer and tossing it down the hallway towards the bedroom before turning his attention back to kissing Dream senseless. He sinks to his knees and Dream moans as the other man then works at peeling his jeans off so he can blow Dream right in the front hall, up against the front door where anyone can walk by and hear. It makes everything that much hotter.

Later, when all Dream is left wearing is his blazer and nothing else, Hob gets up from where they’re kissing on the bed to turn off the lights and Dream frowns.

“You can just leave the lights on,” Dream says, before he coyly spreads his legs and shows off his best seductive pose to tempt Hob back to bed. Hob stares, transfixed at Dream’s posturing, before he huffs and then clicks off the lights anyways. Dream groans in annoyance and Hob laughs before he kisses Dream again.

“Sorry, just easier with the lights off,” Hob says, not sounding sorry at all. “Don’t worry about it too much.”

But Dream does worry. He doesn’t in the moment, but he does later, when they’re lying beside each other, Hob snoring away while Dream thinks and thinks and thinks. He thinks about how Hob always wants the lights off, and how he never cuddles with Dream after sex. He thinks about how they really only ever get together when it's convenient, but they've never made plans on their own, at least, not since Hob and Eleanor have broken up. 

Dream realizes, with a growing dread, that maybe Hob still isn't over Eleanor, that maybe all there is between them is sex, and nothing else. It makes an awful sort of sense; in the dark, Dream can't tell if Hob’s thinking about someone else, hoping for someone that's not Dream. Eleanor and Dream couldn't be anymore different but that hardly matters to a man with a broken heart. A warm body is a warm body after all, and Dream's the only other single person in their friend group.

If Hob's a little bit confused as to why Dream is a bit short with him in the morning he doesn't show it. Somehow that makes the pit in Dream's stomach worse.

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

The fourth time—there isn’t a fourth time because Dream fucks it all up.

Dream had met with his publisher earlier in the day, and the meeting had gone rather…poorly. His editor had straight up told him that he’d needed to make significant changes to the book, and Dream had argued until he was hoarse but to no avail. He’d then been told to go home and sleep on things, effectively being dismissed like a petulant child who’d thrown a tantrum in public.

Dream knew he had a good story. He also knew that some of the suggested changes were good ones, while others would fundamentally change the story he was trying to tell. But still, the sheer amount of changes had overwhelmed him, and Dream had lost his temper. He already knows, with a growing dread, that he’ll have to make some apologies the next day.

He’s about to go home, but Dream decides instead he’d like to get as drunk as humanly possible to wash the bitter taste of the day from his mind. He texts the group chat, and since it’s a Friday night, they all respond with enthusiasm to blow off some steam for the weekend. Everyone except for Hob, who says he’s not feeling like socializing tonight, but he’s sorry Dream had such a shitty day. 

Dream tries not to be disappointed that Hob won’t show up. He wonders if he’d just invited Hob by himself, instead of texting their group, would he have come out, just for Dream? But they don’t do things like that, even with how long they’ve been friends. Before they started sleeping together, Hob and Dream had always just sort of existed together in the same circle of friends. Dream had actually met Eleanor first, and Hob only when they started dating. Dream has never spent any amount of alone time with Hob before now, and he still doesn’t know what sort of relationship they even have, if any at all. 

Dream’s worries leave his mind when the others show up. Mervyn stays for only one round of drinks, and Matthew and Jessamy only two before they head out for the evening. They have an early appointment with the planner the next day to do some cake tastings. Lucienne stays the longest, though she really only nurses the same glass of wine the entire night. She talks Dream through his frustrations with his editors, and his overall story. She’s been with him every step of the way to getting this publishing deal, and Dream hasn’t told her yet, but she’s going to be the front page of his acknowledgements. 

He’s so tempted to unload on her about Hob as well, but before he can gather the courage to broach the subject, she gets a text from someone and blushes furiously when she reads it. Dream pokes and prods until she admits she’s started seeing someone. Johanna. She’s not sure if it’s serious yet but well. They’re definitely physically compatible, and while she won’t show Dream her phone, he already knows she’s been sent something particularly provocative. So Dream lets her go, and then debates between ordering another drink or going home. 

He does neither of those things, and instead pulls out his phone and texts Hob, outside their group chat. The alcohol has more than loosened Dream’s inhibitions and right now, he’s lonely and horny. Lucienne’s reserved but still elated expression as she had happily explained Johanna had made Dream miss Hob. So he texts the other man and tells him he’d like to come over.

Hob’s response isn’t what he’s hoping for: are you drunk?

Dream frowns at his phone and then his initial message: aree tou busy?? Can i comeocer?

Okay, maybe he was a little more drunk than he realized. He asks Hob if it matters, being careful this time to make sure he types everything out carefully, and then closes out his tab while he waits for a response. Nothing comes. Dream’s annoyed and disappointed, but not surprised, so he starts to make his way to the train platform to head home. 

While he’s waiting, he finally gets a response back from Hob: okay. come over.

Dream changes platforms immediately and heads in the direction of Hob’s apartment. 

When he arrives, Hob pushes a glass of water towards him, which Dream drinks down greedily. When he’s done, he joins Hob on the couch and crawls into his lap to kiss him, but Hob pushes him away after only a few moments. Dream lets out an annoyed noise when Hob does it again. 

“Dream, not tonight,” Hob says, pushing him away when Dream tries to kiss him again.

“What do you mean?” Dream asks, now confused. 

“I don’t want to have sex right now,” Hob replies, before he pushes Dream off of him and back onto the couch, going back to watching whatever crime drama he’d had on before Dream arrived.

Dream stares, open mouthed and hurt, as Hob decidedly ignores him for Netflix. He gets up angrily and stomps around the kitchen, tearing open the cabinets looking for something to eat, and also more water because now he has a pounding headache as his body struggles to sober up now that he’s no longer drinking. 

“Dream!” Hob exclaims, getting up when Dream slams more than one cabinet door closed. “Come on, don’t be like this.”

“Like what?” Dream sneers, stuffing a potato chip into his mouth angrily. “I came all this way just to fuck you, didn’t I?”

“You’re drunk,” Hob points out.

“I’m always drunk when we have sex,” Dream argues, crossing his arms, chip bag still in hand. “You’ve never had a problem with it before.” 

“Yeah well, I’m not drunk now, and I’m also not in the mood,” Hob replies angrily. 

“Then why the hell did you invite me over?” Dream growls. 

“I don’t know!” Hob exclaims, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I wasn’t thinking, obviously,” he adds, then gestures to Dream. “How was I supposed to know you’d be like this?”

Dream huffs, then carelessly tosses the bag of chips onto the counter. A few stray chips scatter across the counter, but Dream doesn’t care. Clearly Hob didn’t want him around, not for sex, and definitely not to comfort Dream after the awful day he’d had, so there was no point in staying. 

“Fine, I’ll go,” Dream says, moving towards the door where he’d kicked off his shoes. He decides he’ll check the train times on the walk over.

“Dream,” Hob says, grabbing his arm before he can make it to the hallway. “It’s late. Come on. Let’s go to sleep.”

“I can get home on my own just fine,” Dream argues, raising his chin defiantly.

“No,” Hob replies, his voice stern as he grips Dream’s arm tighter. “Come on, let’s just go to bed. You need to sleep this off.”

“I can sleep on the couch,” Dream says, yanking his arm out of Hob’s grip. “Since you’re not interested in fucking my bad day out of me.”

“Dream, stop being so fucking difficult!” Hob yells, shocking both of them.

The echo of Hob’s roar hangs tensely between them, and Hob steps back from Dream with a hand over his mouth, clearly horrified at what he’s done. Dream also feels the prick of tears in his eyes as he processes just how angry Hob actually has been with him all night. 

How the hell had this night gotten worse? Dream doesn’t know, but what he does know is that he needs to leave before he starts drunkenly crying in Hob’s apartment, and Hob is the last person Dream wants to see him like this. 

Dream tries making his way towards the door again, but Hob seems to regain his senses and physically blocks him. Dream tries to push him, then tries to hit Hob’s shoulder to make him move, but Hob grabs Dream’s wrist to stop him. 

“I’m sorry,” Hob says, his voice much softer this time, laced with regret and pity. Dream hates it. “I lost my temper, I shouldn’t have done that,” he adds.

“Fuck off!” Dream yells, and oh. No. No, no, no, no. Dream furiously blinks back the tears before they can start falling, even if he can’t stop the pained hiccups that betray his emotional state from leaving his mouth.

“Just—” Dream gasps, then forces himself to breathe, slow and deep, and then counts to five. “Let me go home. You don’t—” his breath hitches again, cutting off what he wants to say. Fuck. He couldn’t even string together a full sentence if he tried.

“Dream, please,” Hob replies, his voice practically begging now. “Don’t leave. I don’t want you going home alone like this.” Dream turns to meet Hob eyes, and his anger dissipates slightly when he sees how devastated Hob looks. 

Despite how awful Dream feels, even he knows it’d be a mistake to go home in his current state. He’s highly emotional, drunk, and likely wouldn’t be paying attention to his surroundings. He could get mugged, or worse. 

“Fine,” Dream finally relents. Hob lets out a sigh of relief, and hugs him. Dream doesn’t hug him back. He’s still angry after all. 

But Dream lets Hob wrangle him down the hall to the bedroom, and then he strips down to his underwear to sleep, since he doesn’t have any of his own clothes here. And why would he? It’s not like they’re anything other than an occasional hookup after all. 

Hob does offer Dream a shirt and pajama pants to wear, but Dream tosses them away from him without so much as a second glance. Hob sighs at Dream, and then shuts off the lights, turning away from Dream without another word to sleep. He’s clearly still frustrated with Dream too.  

Dream lies there next to Hob, feeling cold and rejected and lonely. He hates everything about this. Hates that Hob let him come over and make a fool out of himself when he could have easily just told Dream to fuck off and go home instead. Hates that Hob even came onto him in the first place, all those months ago, and now they’re here, in this weird in-between state where they're together but not together. 

Dream realizes too late that he really hadn’t cared if they had sex or not either. He’d wanted comfort more than anything, comfort from Hob specifically. But the only comfort he knew that came from Hob was sex. And that’s the worst part of it. Dream knows now, without a doubt, that he has feelings for Hob. That he wants more out of this than what they’re doing now, but he’s not sure Hob does. At this point, he’s too afraid to ask. 

Hob’s bedroom suddenly feels like a suffocating prison as all of Dream’s feelings hit him at once. He’s going to cry again if he stays, and he really doesn’t want Hob to see him like this. He doesn’t want Hob to know just how badly he’s gotten under Dream’s skin. 

Dream realizes he needs to leave. He’s stone cold sober now, having laid here in the dark with nothing but his thoughts and his third glass of water now emptied on the bedside table. He listens carefully for the evening out of Hob’s breath, then shuffles around in bed to see if any of his movements disturb the other man. When he’s certain that Hob is deep in sleep, Dream hurriedly dresses himself, checks to see that there’s still trains running this late at night, and then rushes out when he sees the next one is in just 15 minutes. Hob lives about 12 minutes from the nearest station. Dream can make it if he runs. 

The front door slams loudly behind him as he leaves, but Dream doesn’t care. Hob probably won’t even notice that he’s gone. 

Dream makes it to the station just as the train is pulling into the stop. As he’s getting on, he hears yelling and frantic running, the sounds of someone about to miss the train.  Dream considers holding the doors until he sees just who's rushing towards the train.

It's Hob. Hob who is barely dressed, and running down the steps to the train platform in nothing but sweatpants and slippers. He catches Dream's eyes and waves frantically to get his attention. Dream’s heart flutters momentarily, and he imagines that maybe he was wrong about everything after all. That maybe there’s more to what’s been happening between them than just rebound sex.

Dream gets on the train anyways, and the doors shut just as Hob reaches the platform, and the train pulls away. 

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

They pretend like nothing is wrong after that night. Hob had texted Dream the next morning to ask if he’d gotten home okay, and Dream had left him on read. He had far more important things to worry about that morning, like his pounding headache and the fact that he needed to talk to his editor at some point.

When he finally fights off the last of his hangover, Dream has a much more pleasant conversation with his editing team, who he apologizes to for losing his temper. His team apologizes to him as well, which he doesn’t expect, but they reassure him it’s their job to encourage him, not discourage him from writing. They have a candid conversation about communication, and then agree on a plan to move forward with his book.

Dream happily shares the good news with his group chat, still ignoring the direct message from Hob. He credits Lucienne for talking him off the ledge the night before, and the flood of positive and congratulatory messages flows easily after that. Even from Hob. 

Dream sighs when he reads the other man’s message in their group chat, then flips back to their private conversation. He really should apologize for his behavior as well, but he has no idea how to explain himself without revealing more than he’s comfortable with. So Dream turns off his phone, and goes back to working on his novel, hoping that maybe he’ll come up with something to say later in the evening.

He never does end up replying. Hob doesn’t privately message him either after that.

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

It’s trivia night at the White Horse, and Dream would normally be excited to go and show off his arcane knowledge, but tonight he’s dreading the occasion. It’s been a month since he and Hob had last seen each other and he really has no idea how he’s supposed to act around the other man. Do they pretend like nothing ever happened between them? They haven’t spoken since, so things were clearly over between them. 

Dream’s still trying to tell himself it’s better this way. They were hurtling towards disaster, and Dream should’ve really known better, should’ve known that he really can’t do casual after all, and now he’s probably permanently fucked up his friendship with Hob because he couldn’t keep his own feelings in check. He still hasn’t apologized, he doesn’t know if Hob even wants an apology from him at this point, or if he just wants to forget about everything that ever happened between them. 

So when Dream’s sister texts him and tells him she’s in town for a few days, Dream jumps at the opportunity to meet her and cancel on trivia night plans. He receives a variety of boos and ‘we’ll lose without you!’ responses, all of which make him smile despite himself. Even Hob laments the loss of Dream’s knowledge for the evening. 

When Dream arrives at The New Inn later that night, it’s not only his sister that greets him. Eleanor is with her. Dream hasn’t seen her since she and Hob broke up. When she’d moved across the country, she left the group chat and hasn’t really talked to anyone since. Dream had missed her, if he were being honest with himself. Even though Hob had said the breakup was amicable, and that Eleanor had only left the chat because she couldn’t be part of their plans any longer, Dream was still sad to see her go. He realizes he could’ve tried harder to keep in touch with her, but then everything with Hob had happened and well.

Dream wants to hug Eleanor and also scream at her. Wants to unload what a horrible last month he’s had, and also wants her to never find out he’d been sleeping with her ex. It’s not her fault that Dream fell into bed with Hob knowing he wasn’t over his relationship with her yet. It’s entirely her fault for being so perfect, however, that there’s no way Dream could ever compare, and that’s why Hob won’t look at him when they have sex. 

When they had sex. Dream and Hob have barely spoken since that night, and only in their group chat. He’s pretty sure Hob doesn’t want to even be in the same room as Dream right now, for how ugly Dream had acted over what was supposed to be just a casual hookup.

“Not that I’m unhappy to see you, Ellie,” Dream says, giving both her and his sister a hug before taking a seat across from them. “But what are you doing back in town?”

“Dream—” Didi starts, but then Eleanor places a hand on her shoulder and stops her.

“We’re dating,” Eleanor says bluntly, moving her hand from Didi’s shoulder down to her hand. Their fingers interlace and Dream’s eyes boggle as he looks between them, shocked.

“When did this happen?” he asks, settling himself in for what must be an extremely interesting story.

Eleanor and Didi take turns recalling the story of how they met through a local meetup for knitters in Seattle, and how Didi had recognized Eleanor from one time she’d come out drinking with Dream and his friends years ago. Happy to have a familiar face, Didi and Eleanor had become fast friends, and they both realized they had a lot in common too.

Before either of them knew it, Eleanor was inviting Didi out everywhere as they explored their new city together, and Didi became accustomed to calling Eleanor after every shift at the hospital. One thing led to another, and then another, and now they’re practically attached at the hip. Didi even shyly admits they’ve talked about moving in together. 

The two of them beam at him when they’re done with their story and Dream wants to congratulate them. Wants to be happy that his favorite sister is dating one of his oldest friends. He wants to make plans to visit them in their new home, maybe even help them move if he can work out the logistics. He hasn’t been out to Seattle in some time, and he really could use a vacation.

“I started sleeping with Hob after you left,” is what Dream says instead. 

Eleanor spits her (thankfully white) wine all over Didi, who freezes in place, staring at Dream in shock. Dream stares back, horrified both at what he just said, and what followed after. He braces himself, expecting Eleanor to explode on him, to call him a slut, a bad friend, a terrible human being.

Instead, Eleanor starts laughing. Didi does too eventually.  

“Oh my god, of course he did,” Eleanor wheezes as she doubles over in her seat. Their server rushes over, bringing some extra napkins and Didi excuses herself to the restroom to wipe off the rest of the wine. Dream and Eleanor are left staring at one another in silence, before Eleanor breaks the tension with another giggle.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I’m not laughing at you, really, just the whole situation. Imagine if you brought Hob with you tonight?” she practically squeals.

“I—you’re not mad?” Dream asks, more shocked than anything. Eleanor just shrugs and drinks from her water glass this time, instead of her wine.

“I mean, did Hob at least wait a day before he tried to make a move on you?” Eleanor asks. “Not that it matters really, we were broken up before I left but well, you know. Respectful turnaround time and all that.”

“I—” Dream stutters, trying desperately to recall when that first time with Hob actually happened. “I mean, I think it was a few weeks after you left?”

Eleanor snorts. “Good enough, I guess.” 

“Sorry,” Dream says, shaking his head as Didi returns and sits back down next to Eleanor. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. Did you know he wanted to—?”

“Oh no, no,” Eleanor says then starts laughing again. “Our breakup wasn’t planned or anything, don’t worry. It’s just that, well. He told me he wanted to stay with you guys more than me, so I’m not that surprised?”

“What?” Dream says, dumbly. “But you both said the breakup was mutual.” Eleanor sighs.

“I mean,” she replies. “It was technically mutual. But Hob wanted to stay in Boston, and I didn’t. And one of our last arguments before I left was about abandoning our friends.” She shrugs again. “I love you all, don’t get me wrong, but I really love living out in Seattle more. Especially the company.” She smiles at Didi, who kisses her on the cheek. “It kind of sucked that Hob really didn’t want to move, but it wouldn’t have been fair to ask him to do it all just for me and my career goals.”

“Oh,” Dream says dumbly. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Dream wouldn’t have wanted to leave Boston for any reason either, so it makes sense, he thinks. Boston is just that. It’s home.

“It’ll make double dating a little weird, though,” Eleanor adds, and Didi laughs. 

“I think we’ll be fine though,” Didi adds, then turns her focus to Dream. “So tell us about you and Hob,” she says.  

“I—we’re not,” Dream stammers, unsure of how to proceed further with the conversation. Eleanor and Didi’s expressions both fall.

“Oh, Dream,” Didi says, reaching out to take his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“It’s fine,” Dream says though he feels anything but. “I don’t—it didn’t last long between us,” he admits. 

“Wow, he fumbled the bag on you?” Eleanor interjects, shock clearly painted on her face. “My god, he really is an idiot.”

“No I—we had a fight,” Dream says, unsure of why he feels the need to clarify. “It was my fault really. I shouldn’t have—he wasn’t ready to commit.” 

Eleanor makes a confused face. 

“That—doesn’t sound like Hob,” Eleanor says after a moment, and Dream huffs in annoyance.

“You only knew him while you were dating, how would you know that?” Dream retorts.

“Because he told me he’s never done casual,” Eleanor replies. “When we first started seeing each other, he basically said just that. That’s what I liked about him, he wanted to do the whole commitment thing right away, even if it didn’t end up working out.”

“Well maybe he’s changed,” Dream says, far more grumpily than he intended. “He’s never said shit to me about anything, and still hasn’t, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Dream,” Didi says gently, squeezing his hand. “Are you okay?”

“It’s fine,” Dream insists, not wanting to go into the details of how he’d terribly fucked up his situation with Hob. 

“You don’t sound fine at all,” Didi replies.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have this conversation at dinner though?” Eleanor interjects, looking concernedly at him. Dream huffs and then pouts. Eleanor was always hyper attuned to when people were upset, especially Dream.

But Dream does want to talk about it, even if it is a bit awkward, all things considered. Eleanor seems to at least be willing to hear Dream out, if nothing else. 

They wrap up their bill quickly, taking some of their dinner to go, and find their way over to Dream’s apartment, where he spends the rest of the night wrapped up in a blanket while he recounts the past six months to his sister and Eleanor. There’s also, perhaps, a lot of wine involved. Solely because Eleanor had decided it was also girls night and they needed a lot of wine for a proper one.

“I’m going to murder him myself,” Eleanor says, holding up her bottle of wine when Dream finishes telling her everything that had happened up until now. 

“El, no,” Dream whines. He’s really more embarrassed about the whole situation now than anything. Talking things over with the two of them had really helped, and Dream wonders if he should’ve talked to Lucienne, or even Jessamy and Matthew to start. Maybe he wouldn’t have let things go so far the way they did between him and Hob.

“Nah, he deserves it,” Eleanor replies, taking another swig from her bottle. 

“It’s really my fault,” Dream tries to insist, knowing it’s useless to defend Hob to his own ex. “I knew he wasn’t over you and I—”

“No, Dream, listen to me,” Eleanor says, taking Dream’s face in her hands. “He never—” she turns away from him suddenly and then burps. Dream laughs, despite himself. 

“He never what?” Dream asks when Eleanor turns back to face him. She sighs.

“He never told you why he turns off the lights, and that’s on him,” Eleanor tells him. 

“I—what?” Dream says dumbly. Hob turned off the lights with Eleanor too?

“Yeah, he—” Eleanor hiccups and then starts giggling. She releases Dream’s face and then falls back onto Didi, who’s sitting behind her on the couch. “He’s sensitive, you know? About—” she gestures at her front, “All the hair he has. Hates it when people see it. I think we had sex with the lights on like, twice, at most.” She pauses and then regards Dream, her expression sombering. “I thought you knew.”

“Why would I know that?” Dream asks, dumfounded. Hob had never given any indicator that he was sensitive about any part of his body, and no one in their friend group had ever commented on it.

“Because,” Eleanor replies, gesturing wildly. “Think about it. Whenever we went to the beach or anything together, did you ever see him take his shirt off? Or at the pool at Matthew and Jessamy’s place?”

“I—” Dream filters through his memory, which is an especially difficult task considering how drunk they are. He realizes that Eleanor’s right. 

“Shit.” Dream groans. “I think I fucked up.”

“No, no, he did,” Eleanor insists. “I always told him I didn’t mind all the hair,” she adds then sighs. “I mean it’s a lot, but it never bothered me, you know?”

“It’s never bothered me either,” Dream admits. He’d rather liked the differences in their bodies actually. Hob was broad where Dream was lanky, naturally tan and sunkissed where Dream was pale. Dream had never had an opinion on chest hair before, what little hair he’d had it was so fine and thin that his chest looked bare anyways. But Eleanor was right. Dream had never really seen Hob casually uncovered. And while he was always eager to undress Dream when the lights were still on, Hob almost never fully undressed himself until after he’d shut them off. 

It seems so obvious now, in retrospect. But Dream had been caught up in his own insecurities to really notice that Hob had any of his own to address.

“I honestly thought he didn’t want to look at me when he turned off the lights,” Dream confesses. “That maybe he was hoping he could pretend I was someone else in the dark.”

“Okay, I’m with my girlfriend,” Didi says suddenly, a murderous look in her eyes. “I’m a doctor, I can make it look like an accident,” she adds, holding up her weird hand mixed cocktail that has hot sauce in it. 

“Didi!” Dream exclaims. “No murder,” he orders, then laughs at the absurdity of the entire situation. They all start laughing, and Dream feels something unwind in his chest when they do. He thinks about texting Hob, but ultimately decides against it. What he wants to tell him, he wants to do it sober, and in person. 

Dream wakes up the next morning extremely hungover, and orders breakfast for delivery. Didi and Eleanor try to insist on paying him back, but he waves away their money, and tells them they can buy him dinner when he flies out to see them move. They both hug him fiercely on their way out and make him promise to see them at least one more time before they fly back to Seattle.

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

A week after his conversation with his sister and Eleanor, Dream is outside Hob’s apartment door, pacing nervously as he rehearses everything he wants to say to Hob. His apology. His request to start things over, if Hob still wants to try. How he’s really been feeling about their whole not-relationship status.

Really, he’s just stalling knocking on Hob’s door. What if Hob doesn’t answer when he sees it’s Dream? What if he tells Dream to go away without even hearing him out? What if—

Dream groans and then mentally slaps himself. He needs to stop worrying himself unnecessarily. Either Hob will want to hear him out or he won’t. But Dream needs to at least try.

He’s about to raise his hand to finally knock on the door, when suddenly he hears Hob’s voice, distinctly from not inside the apartment. 

“Dream?” Hob asks. Dream turns in the direction of his voice and finds Hob standing at the end of the hall, groceries in hand. Dream realizes he’s been an idiot standing in front of a completely empty apartment. 

“Hi,” Dream says, every rehearsed speech and romantic gesture he’d just been rehearsing evaporating from his mind like wisps of smoke.

“Hi,” Hob replies, his voice flat. He looks tired, but not angry at least, to see Dream. “Did you need something?” he asks as he walks slowly towards his front door, eyeing Dream a little suspiciously. Dream can’t really blame him. Their last interaction had ended rather poorly.

“I—can we talk?” Dream asks, stepping aside so Hob can put his key in the lock. Hob sighs and his shoulders droop, like he’s been dreading this exact situation. 

“Sure,” Hob replies, putting on a fake cheerful demeanor as he opens the door to let himself and Dream in. 

“Do you need help with anything?” Dream asks, trailing Hob towards the kitchen. 

“If you want,” Hob replies, setting the groceries down onto the counter. But before Dream can start unpacking anything, he sighs again and groans. 

“Actually, Dream,” Hob says, turning around and facing him head on. “Let’s just talk now.” 

“Uhm—okay,” Dream replies, now feeling incredibly nervous. Hob looks at him expectantly, crossing his arms as he waits for Dream to gather his thoughts. 

Finally, Dream says, “I wanted to say I’m sorry. About everything that happened last time I was here.”

His apology seems to surprise Hob, who suddenly straightens up from his leaning position against the counter.

“Oh,” Hob replies, sounding dumbstruck. “I—I’m sorry too,” he offers, uncrossing his arms and running a hand through his hair. Dream realizes it’s longer than the last time he’d seen it. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper at you that night.”

“To be fair, I was being an ass,” Dream admits, even though it pains him to do so.  

“Yeah but you had a reason to be,” Hob says. “I was just feeling sorry for myself for no reason and I took it out on you.”

“I still took my shitty day out on you,” Dream replies, shrugging. “So I guess we were both not at our best that night.”

“I guess not,” Hob accepts, with a small smile. “We’re okay then?”

Dream nods. “Yes,” he says, offering a small smile himself, then stepping towards Hob. “Why were you feeling sorry for yourself?” Hob’s expression shutters closed again, and he shakes his head. 

“It’s not important,” he says, turning away and refusing to meet Dream’s eyes.  

“Hob,” Dream says, taking another step closer and reaching out to take the other man’s hand in his. “It’s important to me,” he adds.  

Hob sighs, and then turns his eyes to the ceiling. When he meets Dream’s gaze again, he looks pained. 

“I’m not good at being casual Dream,” Hob tells him bluntly, and Dream feels a sense of deja vu run through him like a live wire. “If we’re going to keep doing…this, I want there to be a commitment. It’s not just sex to me.”

It’s almost identical to what Eleanor had said about Hob to Dream a week prior. Dream suddenly feels wretched for not noticing sooner, but also indignant, because why had Hob assumed that wasn’t what Dream wanted as well? 

“Hob,” Dream says, as calmly as he can manage, before he squeezes Hob’s hand tightly. “What made you think I didn’t want the same things?”

Hob’s face falls. He looks intently at Dream’s face, and whatever he finds there only seems to upset him further. 

“I—I don’t know,” Hob admits, before he groans and places his free hand over his face. Dream finds it a bit comforting that he hasn’t tried to remove Dream’s hand over his other one.

“I’ve read this whole thing wrong, haven’t I?” Hob says through his hand, before slapping his forehead. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not,” Dream says, before he takes Hob’s free hand as well. “And to be fair,” he adds, “it’s occurred to me recently that I may have, as well. We’ve never talked about—about this,” he gestures between them. “Us. We just sort of skip to the sex.”

“Well, we have been drunk every time,” Hob replies. “You said so yourself.”

“Not—every time,” Dream says. “After Matthew got food poisoning, when I thought that you had invited me out on a date, we only had one drink each that we didn’t finish.”

“Wait,” Hob stutters, his whole body going rigid. “You thought I had invited you out for a date? That’s why—,” his eyes widen suddenly. “That’s why you wore the blazer.”

Dream blushes furiously and now it is his turn to look away from Hob’s scrutinizing gaze. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“No I’m not I—,” Hob groans again, and then, unexpectedly, pulls his hands free before dropping his head down on Dream’s shoulder. Dream startles when he feels Hob’s arms suddenly wrap around his waist shortly after.

“I had no idea. None at all,” Hob confesses, then groans again. “God I would’ve taken you somewhere nicer if I knew you wanted it to be a date.”

Dream shrugs, then reaches up to pat Hob on the back. “It’s fine. Really.”

“Not really, but we can agree to disagree,” Hob replies, before he tilts his head slightly up to look at Dream “Can I get a do-over on that then?” he asks. “Take you out on a proper date?”

Dream wants that, he realizes. Desperately. So he nods. 

“I do want that,” Dream says honestly. “But—”

“Oh God, there’s a ‘but’,” Hob groans before he straightens and untangles himself from Dream. Dream already misses the warmth of Hob’s body. 

“It’s not a bad ‘but’,” Dream replies. “But there’s something that’s been bothering me since we—since all this started,” he finishes. “I want to make sure we’re really on the same page.”

Hob nods. “Okay, sure. What is it?” he asks.

Dream takes a deep breath to brace himself, and then looks Hob directly in the eye. Now or never, he supposes. 

“Why do you turn off the lights?” Dream asks. 

Hob blinks, slow, then suddenly blushes a furious red before he buries his face in his hands.

“Aw, come on Dream,” Hob sighs. “It’s really embarrassing.”

Dream softens a bit, but remains resolute. Eleanor had told him what she thought had been the problem all along, but he still needs to hear it from Hob himself.  

“I need to know, Hob,” Dream insists.

“Why?” Hob asks, then sighs again. “I mean, I don’t know, it’s pretty obvious isn’t it? I’m not really much to look at, you know,” he says, gesturing to himself.

“Not much to look at?” Dream asks, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“I know, it’s stupid,” Hob sighs, running a hand over his face. “But I mean, Dream, look at you. You’re gorgeous and I’m…I don’t know, not that?”

“I’m still not following,” Dream says, still confused but also growing more and more uneasy about what Hob is implying. “Did you…did you really not think I was attracted to you? At all?”

“No, I—I just—,” Hob stutters. “I don’t know what I thought, honestly,” he says, looking guilty. “I just—I’m not as confident as you about how I look naked,” he adds, gesturing to his front, and Dream’s heart sinks at the confirmation of yet another thing Eleanor had told him. “I thought…maybe you’d change your mind about being with me. If you saw, well— everything.”

“Everything,” Dream replies flatly. 

“I mean, you know I’m really…hairy,” Hob says, before he winces. “And well, I’m not really in shape or anything like that either…” he trails off, looking even more guilty with every new word that comes out of his mouth. Like he’s only just realizing now that he pushed his anxieties about his body onto Dream, who clearly hasn't noticed any of the things Hob's insecure about.

“So…what?” Dream says, suddenly feeling indignance and hurt creep into his voice. “You just assumed I wouldn’t find you attractive unless I was drunk and we had sex in the dark?”

“Wait, what?” Hob exclaims. 

“Am I really that shallow sounding to you?” Dream continues, already feeling his emotions start to get the better of him.

“No, oh god, no,” Hob replies immediately. “Dream, I don’t know what’s brought this on, but swear it had nothing to do with you. I was just stupid and insecure about myself, and I wasn’t thinking properly. I’m sorry, I really had no idea it bothered you so much.”

A somewhat tense and awkward silence falls between them. Dream mulls over what Hob has told him, feeling wretched about how deeply they’ve both misunderstood one another. But he had come here to clear those misunderstandings after all. Hob had admitted his insecurities. Now Dream had to as well. 

“I actually thought—” Dream says, then takes a shuddering breath to calm himself. “I thought you turned the lights off because you didn’t want to look at me,” he finally admits.  “Because I wasn’t who you really wanted to be with.”

Hob’s eyes widen, first in shock, then horror. “Wait you thought that I—”

“Was using me as a stand-in for Eleanor?” Dream finishes. He wraps his arms around himself and then looks away, refusing to meet Hob’s eyes. He feels like a coward for doing so but Dream knows he’ll lose his resolve to admit everything he’d been bottling up if he does. “The first time we slept together, I assumed you were only looking for a rebound. And when we never talked about it after, or told our friends I—”

“Fuck, Dream,” Hob interrupts, grabbing him suddenly and hugging Dream to his chest. “I had no idea, I—fuck, I’m so sorry I made you feel like that.”

Dream sniffles, wrapping his own arms around Hob, shrugging helplessly. 

“I should have said something sooner,” Dream says. “But I let it—fester instead. I had no idea that you thought you weren’t attractive to me either. But Hob,” he adds, turning his head to meet Hob’s eyes again, hoping he looks as serious as he feels. “I don’t just sleep with people I’m not attracted to. Regardless of how much alcohol is involved.”

Hob nods. “Yeah. I—I’m still sorry about everything though.”

“Me too,” Dream replies, then adds, a bit more quietly. “I like the hair, actually.” Hob chokes out a noise that seems half between a laugh and a sob. 

“You don’t have to say—” he starts but Dream shushes him.

“I mean it, Hob,” Dream says, before he works a hand between them to pet the small patch of hair peeking out from beneath Hob’s shirt. “I think it suits you. And I would like to be able to fully appreciate it.”

When he looks up at Hob, the other man’s eyes are a bit watery. But then Hob blinks rapidly, and sniffles, before he hugs Dream even more tightly to himself.

“Stay the night?” Hob asks. “Not for—not for sex. Just stay with me?”

Dream nods against Hob’s shoulder. “Okay.”

Hob makes a decision to order takeout instead of making dinner like he originally planned, citing that he’d rather spend time talking with Dream anyways. They still put away the groceries, which helps release a lot of the emotional tension that had built up between them, and Dream enjoys the warm, domestic feel of the activity. 

Once their food arrives, they settle on Hob’s couch and talk late into the night about everything and nothing. Hob catches Dream up on what missed during trivia when he was out with Didi, and Dream shyly admits that Didi had not been the only person he’d talked to that evening. Hob stares at him, equal parts awestruck and mortified, as Dream recalls his conversations with Eleanor and Didi, and how he found out they were dating. 

“So what you’re saying is, I’m lucky to have my bits still attached?” Hob jokes. 

“Hob,” Dream chastises him, bumping their shoulders together. “That’s not nice.”

“You didn’t date Eleanor,” Hob retorts. “She’s terrifying, do you know how many serial killer documentaries she used to watch?”

Dream did, in fact, know this. He had been subject to many episodes of Cold Case Files growing up with Didi, and his knowledge had been how he and Eleanor had first become friends. Dream suspects Eleanor’s deep passion for them is actually one of the reasons why she and Didi get along so well.

“Hob,” Dream says, a new worry now crossing his mind. “Are you—okay—with all of this?” he waves vaguely. “With Didi dating your ex while we—?” He trails off. They still haven’t really decided on what their official relationship status would be going forward, and Dream doesn’t want to presume.

Hob nudges Dream with his shoulder, and then kisses the top of his head. 

“Yeah, I am,” Hob answers sincerely. “I mean—it’s never not going to suck that we broke up,” he adds. “But we had our time, and if she’s happy then I’m happy too.”

Dream nods. “That’s good to hear,” he says. 

“Are you okay with it?” Hob asks. Dream hums. 

“I am,” he answers, then huffs a laugh. “I did offer to help them move into their new place, though.”

Hob groans. “Does this mean I have to help too as part of my good boyfriend duties?” he asks.

Dream’s potsticker falls out of his mouth mid chew, hits his knee, and then falls to the floor.

“Shit!” Dream exclaims, putting his food on the coffee table before bending down to pick up the stray dumpling. 

“I—did I say something wrong?” Hob asks, worry now clear in his voice. Dream shakes his head and then flops against Hob’s shoulder.

“You said nothing wrong,” Dream says into Hob’s shoulder, his face now flushed with embarrassment. “I was just surprised, is all. You—you said it so easily.”

“Boyfriend, you mean?” Hob asks, now in a teasing tone. “Do you like it?”

Dream nods, feeling ridiculous about being done in by a single word. But Hob doesn’t seem to mind.

“I like it too,” is all he says, before he places a hand underneath Dream’s chin and kisses him.

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

As they’re getting ready for bed, Dream feels a thrum of excitement, even though they’ve still agreed that sex is off the table for the night. They’re both far too tired and emotionally drained from the evening to put in the effort anyways.

But then Hob is holding out his arm for Dream to snuggle into, and Dream feels like a teenanger as he curls up against Hob’s chest and rests his head on it. 

“Fair warning that you’re going to wake up sweaty if you stay here all night,” Hob tells him. Dream knows he doesn’t mean to sound so self-deprecating, but now that he knows just how deep Hob’s insecurities run, it breaks his heart a little. 

“That’s fine,” Dream says, pressing himself even closer. He can feel Hob’s chest hair poking through the thin material of his undershirt. Dream rubs his face into it, enjoying the rough, scratchy texture against his check. Hob laughs at Dream’s actions, and Dream hums in contentment. He really did like the feel of Hob’s chest hair. It was surprisingly soft in certain places, and warm. Maybe Dream would wake up because he’s too warm in the middle of the night. Maybe he won’t. He’s just glad that now he gets the opportunity to find out. 

“You don’t have to pretend to be enthusiastic about it,” Hob says as Dream nuzzles him again.

“I’m not,” Dream replies, rolling his eyes. “It feels…nice.”

“Sure,” Hob replies. “Say that again in the morning.”

Dream does in fact, say something similar to that effect in the morning. He says it while he sits atop Hob’s lap, Dream gripping the thick pelt of hair for purchase as he ruts himself desperately against Hob. 

They’ve never had sex in the morning. In the bright light of day. Somehow it’s even more intimate than what Dream imagines having sex with the lights on must feel like and he loves it. Hob is looking at Dream like he’s something divine, like he can’t quite believe that what they’re doing is really happening. Dream thinks he’ll never let Hob turn off the lights again when they do this. He never again wants to miss a single second of seeing the way Hob looks at him, at how stunning Hob’s entire body looks and feels when pressed against Dream’s. His new goal, for however long it takes, is that Hob never questions Dream’s attraction to him ever again.

When they’ve both reached their peaks, Dream collapses on top of Hob, uncaring of the sticky mess between them. Hob’s chest is warm and broad, and Dream finds himself slowly drifting back to sleep. Hob groans after a while, however, wriggling beneath the weight of Dream's body, and disturbing his otherwise peaceful post-coital rest.

“Okay, this is sweet and all, but now I’m the one that's too hot,” Hob whines, pushing gently at Dream’s shoulder. Dream laughs, a brazen, awful honking noise that he’s always been insecure about. But Hob had told him the night before that he loves Dream’s laugh, and Dream can see now that the other man wasn’t lying. He’s looking at Dream softly, so full of affection that Dream nearly forgets he needs to move and just stares at Hob for a while.

“What?” Hob asks, his eyes crinkled with happiness.

“Nothing,” Dream replies, smiling back before he moves off of his boyfriend’s chest.

Hob gets up from the bed once Dream rolls off of him and heads towards the bathroom. He comes back with two warm washcloths to wipe themselves off with. When they’re both done, he tosses both cloths in the direction of the hamper, missing his target by mere inches. 

“Close enough,” Hob says. 

“That’ll leave a wet spot on your carpet,” Dream tells him, already seeing his prediction start to come true. 

“I’ll get to it later,” Hob replies before he kisses Dream, languid and slow and perfect. “I have more important things to do today.”

[dreamsofbroflovski]

How about a ditzy, naive, cutesy ish ( think cutecore ) fem bodied reader with Craig? :3 I love love love your writing btw!

this request is old enough to pay rent in my askbox at this point.

THIS IS THE FIRST PART TO THIS FIC. next part (the one with the smut) is coming out in a couple of days. i've decided to post pt1 here now to give you guys something while it's not out yet, and also because editing ~6k words right now - while i'm awake and alert - and then the rest later is easier than editing 14k+ all at once when i'm done

i'm so sorry for the wait and for making you guys wait even longer for the smut. but it was better that way

Craig Tucker x Reader - sugar (c)rush - part 1

Also available on ao3! 𓆩♡𓆪 Link to Part 2

Summary: Craig Tucker's unwanted visit to the maid cafe leaves him in a sour mood, but the place might bring something that makes his life the sweetest it's ever been.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Fem!Reader

A/N: This work was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but it started getting too long so it got turned into a two-parter. Next part's the smut!

Yeah, I'm showing exactly my weeb background in this one. If anyone has maid anime recs I'm all ears

Craig Tucker let out a deep contented sigh as he settled on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table in front of it. Contentment that didn’t come only from the physical sensation of sitting down, but also the psychological freedom it represented. He had finally managed to catch up with the downright obscene amount of essays and projects his university course was hauling onto its students, his job was being somewhat easy on him, and his home had finally reached a state of cleanliness that satisfied him - this last one probably being the most surprising concept of all.

For the first time in a bunch of weeks, he was finally able to just relax and do absolutely nothing, without the overwhelming weight of adult responsibilities crushing his shoulders. It was all heading up to be a perfect Saturday.

Had it not been for Clyde Donovan barging through the door of their shared apartment, yelling before he even entered, his arms flailing everywhere as the energy built up in his body tried to find some escape.

“Craig, Craig! You’re not gonna believe this, dude! It’s genius!”

Words that famously preceded disasters.

There wasn’t a single day that Craig didn’t regret moving away with his best friend for university. He figured that, by putting some distance between himself and South Park, he’d at least break free from the bulk of his problems. Turns out, he brought the problems with him and now they just seemed to have gotten worse.

Clyde approached the couch with quick steps, extending his hand eagerly towards Craig, which finally allowed the black-haired man to see that his friend had brought something inside with him - what seemed to be a light pink leaflet for a place or event unknown.

“What’s this?” Craig asked as soon as the paper touched his fingers, still following Clyde with his eyes. Even if reading the information it contained would’ve only taken a couple of seconds, he decided it wasn’t worth the brain cells since his friend would probably just try and explain everything to him anyway; asking him straight up would be less time-consuming.

“It’s a flyer for that new maid café, dude!” Clyde dropped himself next to his friend on the couch, turning to him with pure excitement in his face.

“The new what now?”

“A maid café, dude!” Clyde repeated like the concept was obvious. “It’s a café where all the waitresses dress in those hot-ass maid outfits and treat you like a damn king!”

The brunet held such reverence to his explanation, it made it seem like what he was describing was simply the best thing to have ever graced the planet, a present given by the gods themselves to satisfy his mortal urges. It only made Craig want to know about it even less.

“I’m not going to that.” Craig placed the flyer on the coffee table carelessly, bringing his attention to his phone again.

His friend let out an almost comical gasp of surprise. “What? Why?”

The other male rolled his eyes. Clyde had known him since they were kids, yet he still always came to him with his stupid ideas expecting him to agree with them without another thought, despite knowing full well that Craig was a whole different animal from him. “Because I don’t want to.”

“Please, dude!” Clyde clasped his hands together, looking at his friend with wide pleading eyes. It was clear he was trying to give him the Puss In Boots face, which was terrifying. “I tried inviting the guys from uni, but they won’t come either!”

“Then go alone.” To Craig, it was an obvious solution to a problem that shouldn’t even exist - but he knew that his friend wouldn’t accept it, the ever needy fellow refusing to do anything by himself if he could avoid it.

“Fuck no!” Exactly the response Craig expected to receive. “Dude, I need you there! Can’t just go alone to a place like this, the chicks will think I’m a weirdo!”

“They already would. Because you are.” Apparently Craig’s phone had nothing of value to provide him, because he also threw it at the table, letting it land next to the leaflet.

Clyde pouted, flipping his friend off, and receiving the exact same move as a response. “Fuck you, Craig! You’re an asshole, you know that?” 

That display of irritation at his friend lasted very little, as immediately after he was clinging onto the sleeve of his hoodie, his begging reaching a breaking point. “Come on, dude! I’ll pay for both of us!”

Craig yanked his own arm out of the brunet’s grasp and scooted to the farthest end of the couch with an angry expression. “You said that shit the last four times!”

“I swear I’ll do it this time!” Clyde scrambled around with his hands for a moment, still trying to grab Craig, the movement mirroring the racing of his mind as he tried to figure out a way to make his friend comply with his request. “I’ll do all the dishes for a week!”

When the black-haired male stopped moving altogether, Clyde grinned, knowing he had him in the bag. 

If there was one thing Craig hated more than putting up with his friends’ bullshit, it was doing dishes. Nothing about it was pleasant: the feel of the soggy sponge and the soap on his bare hands, how his shirt would always get wet afterwards, having to touch the gross remnants of food on the plates, scrubbing the grease out of all the pots and pans… He let out a groan of disgust just thinking about it. And, weirdly for a bachelor pad where takeout was regular, he and his roommate seemed to go through an obnoxious amount of dishes all the time, which meant it was a constant task that needed doing and took so much out of his time that he could be using doing something actually productive.

“Two weeks.” Craig lifted two fingers to emphasize the number as he turned his face to the man beside him. “And you’re paying,” he then repeated, not wanting Clyde to forget his earlier promise. His friend nodded enthusiastically, the specifics of his side of the deal going through one ear and out the other as he focused solely on the fact that Craig had finally agreed.

With a grumpy huff, Craig rubbed his eyes with his palms and stood up from the couch, once again roped by a friend into another stupid idea that was sure to end up stressing him out. There went his peaceful moment.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

Exactly like he thought he would, Craig wanted to spin around and leave as soon as he arrived at the place.

It was like he had been immediately engulfed in a tsunami of cute. The walls were pink with some pictures and drawings of different anime girls framed on them as well as some photos of adorable-looking desserts and drinks that Craig assumed were served there. Frill details had been painted high up on those walls, giving the impression that they hung from the ceiling line itself. The floor was white wood, and the young man would’ve been tempted to just stare at it the whole time and save himself from the assault on his eyeballs caused by everything else, yet he knew that would only provide him temporary relief. Every single piece of furniture that could have a bit of lace or a ribbon definitely got it; the centerpieces on the tables, the ceiling lights, even the backs of the admittedly very comfy-looking chairs. There was a set of shelves at the back, near the counter, which displayed various merchandise items - mugs, cold cups, t-shirts. Craig never understood the whole ‘coffee shops selling merch’ deal to begin with, and the fact that someone would willingly bring those things home to show that they had been to the place was just damn baffling.

He could not comprehend how someone in their right mind would want to spend money to be there once, let alone get a job at the place and have to see this every. single. day. He felt a tinge of sad empathy for the maids Clyde had spoken of earlier, but it was snuffed out of existence when one of those women approached them and opened her mouth to talk. She was every bit as obnoxious as the environment; speaking in a forced cutesy voice that sounded shrill to his ears, explaining every part of the café’s ‘rules’ - no touching the maids, no asking for personal information, no taking photos of the women, maids can only sit down with customers after payment of an extra fee - with way too much enthusiasm for his liking. The uniform she wore consisted of a baby pink dress with white details on the end of the puff sleeves and white frills at the end of the poofy skirt, right above the knee, and her legs were fully covered by a set of opaque white pantyhose. An equally white and frilly short pinafore apron went over the dress, with pockets on the front and a small pin at the bust that said the maid’s name, a piece of information that was forgotten by Craig right after he read it.

Craig tried to keep his cool as the woman escorted them to their table, sighing with relief when she finally let them be and said someone else would arrive shortly to pick up their orders. 

“Hell yeah, dude! Isn’t this great?” Clyde giddily said, taking in the environment one more time, stretching his neck to have a better look at one of the busy maids before turning back to his friend.

The freezing glare he received in response told the brunet all that he needed to know.

Taking note of the menus on the table, both men picked up one each and started scanning through it in broken silence, given Clyde’s continuous exclamations and gasps of apparent joy. As for Craig, it probably made everything worse. All the items available were ridiculously overpriced, and had dumb unnecessary names; it turned out that the visual pollution caused by the excessive pictures of the food was necessary, otherwise he’d never have figured out that a ‘Fuzzy Caramel’ was in fact supposed to be just your average frappuccino, or what on Earth a ‘Delightful Bubblegum Spring’ even was. If there was anything he’d be joyful about, it was the fact that Clyde had promised to foot the bill, and Craig had full intention of forcing his friend to go through with it this time. “Dude, it’s so hard to decide!” Clyde murmured, seeming slightly awestruck behind his menu. “Everything looks so good!”

Craig’s eyes focused a bit on the images all over the menu, unable to find a sarcastic retort to send his friend’s way - everything did, in fact, look pretty appetizing. “Pictures can’t tell you shit,” he settled for pointing out, “This stuff can still taste bad.”

“That’s bullshit,” Clyde shook his head. “If it looks good, then it’s gotta be great. Have you ever seen a hot chick that wasn’t great in bed?”

‘As a matter of fact… ‘, he thought, but decided that that was not an appropriate conversation to be having in that particular environment, settling instead for a small huff that Clyde either didn’t notice or didn’t care for, considering the smug smirk that tilted his lips with the satisfaction of ‘winning’ the argument.

They didn’t get much more time by themselves to really mull that over, though; A soft unknown voice brought attention to a third party that had shown up near the table, the background noise having covered its arrival. 

“Hello there, masters! I’ll be your maid for today! How may I help you this afternoon?”

Both men turned their faces to you, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Clyde basically gave himself whiplash with how quickly he turned, his whole upper body shifting to your direction as he beamed with joy. Craig, on the other hand, only turned out of basic respect, keeping a straight face and making no sound, a movement quite reminiscent of a robot’s.

“Oh, hey there! I’m Clyde and this is my friend Craig!” The enthusiasm his friend used on that greeting matched what you had on yours, and both had Craig cringing internally, while also taking note of the fact that he hadn’t even answered your question. Clyde always seemed to use more sentences in interactions than what they required.

You didn’t seem to mind, though. tapping lightly on the button in your apron as you responded. “I’m (Y/N)! It’s very nice to meet the masters, and welcome to the café!”

It was a very simple answer, obviously default to a server’s duty, but Clyde’s smile seemed to grow impossibly larger, which blared sirens in Craig’s head. Years of knowing his friend made him silently pray to any possible entity that the guy wouldn’t try and make a pass on you - he didn’t know how much attention the man sitting in front of him had paid to the list of rules that basically told them ‘Don’t Mess With The Maids’, and the embarrassment of getting kicked out of the place in front of every other patron didn’t appeal to him at all, no matter how much he didn’t want to be there.

“That’s such a cool name! Thanks a lot!” Oh, thank fuck. Clyde seemed to have brought a brain cell from home instead of mistaking basic politeness for romantic interest… again.

You made a little hum of approval to accompany your gentle smile, and tapped some things they couldn’t see on the - also very pink - tablet you were holding. “So, what’s it gonna be for the masters today? Have you gone through all of our options yet?”

“Ah, yeah, that!” The reminder made Clyde nod vigorously and turn his face to the menu again, scanning it for his choices. “Let’s see, where was it… Can I have a ‘Soft Maple Mix’, and the…”

Craig tuned out his friend’s speaking after that, making use of the time you spent distracted taking his order to fully size you up. You had a similar sweet and high-pitched tone of voice to the first maid, but he captured the difference straight away - yours was softer, more natural, like it came that way straight out of your vocal cords. The uniform dress was the same, but seemed to fit better in your body; take away the apron and he could’ve honestly mistook you for a client at the place instead of a worker, with the way you wore it so well. Instead of full pantyhose, you had striped knee-high socks on, white and pink in a slightly different shade to that of your maid uniform. Your facial features had their gentleness enhanced by a light layer of makeup, in which he appreciated the lack of bold colors or excessive details, the simple yet still impactful look making for a sight for sore eyes.

Even someone as nonchalant as him wouldn’t be able to deny that you looked adorable. Lovely and approachable, like something worth protecting, and had the setting been another, he’d have no qualms about mentally acknowledging your beauty and admiring it some more. Right there, though, already annoyed by the environment and the situation he was put in, he couldn’t help but wonder if any part of you was even true; everything cute in the place was dialed up to 11 to attract customers, and obviously, being a server, you’d be inclined to match the setting. Very likely, as soon as the shop closed for the day, you’d turn into something completely different - and  if there was one thing Craig disliked, it was fake fucking people. People who could shift their entire personalities around like it was nothing were the worst. Maybe that’s why he grew up to have few friends, but at least he knew he was able to trust the ones he had, considering no one could fake being that stupid.

When Clyde finally finished yapping away his ridiculous order and you turned your face to Craig again, he was quick to straighten his posture and pretend like nothing else had been going through his mind. “What about you, master? Do you wish to place your order already as well?” 

That term you used to refer to him again made him wince, but he just shook his head and didn’t mention it. ”Do y’all have just normal black coffee here?”

The slight frown that dipped your eyebrows showed him that this was not a question you were used to receiving. With such a long menu full of options, most people would’ve been drawn to the many extravagant drinks - but Craig would insist on his simpler choice if need be, even if it’d be irritating to do so. To him, this was the best way to find out if a place was decent or not. Fancier beverages can have damn near anything in them, all kinds of different ingredients and preparation methods that can force a false air of quality into something lackluster; but black coffee is straightforward, its taste speaking for itself, so if it’s bad, he knows to not waste any time trying anything else.

Luckily, despite your weirded-out expression, you didn’t question him. “We do, indeed,” you responded in the normal peppy tone, “Would that be it for our dear master?”

“Yeah, that,” he turned his eyes to the menu again and squinted briefly as he tried to make a last-minute pick among the huge array of food items, “And also a… Huh… This.” He just turned the menu to you and pointed at a picture of a cat-shaped grilled cheese.

“Oh, our Cheesy Kitten Warmth?” 

Craig just nodded once at your words while you noted it down on the tablet, choosing death over saying that name out loud. “Alright, a Cheesy Kitten Warmth it is! Well then, masters, I’ll be off for now, but if you need my assistance you can just call over to me anytime and I’ll be here as soon as I can! “

And just like that, you were off somewhere else with a pep in your step, both young men watching you leave until you disappeared through the kitchen door. When they faced each other again, it couldn’t have been more clear that their opinions on the situation vastly differed, like they did on all other points concerning their visit.

“Duuuuude.” Clyde drawled, turning to face Craig again, “What did I tell you? A-fucking-mazing.”

Now Craig doubted if his friend knew what that last word meant. “You really are a fucking weirdo.”

“Oh, come on, Craig,” Clyde’s smile didn’t falter even through the name-calling, “Don’t pretend like you’re not having fun.”

“I don’t have to pretend, I’m not.”

“Fuck right off with that,” the overeager friend insisted, “Did you even hear what she called us? ‘Masters’. I’ve never had a girl call me that before. It’s the best feeling in the world!”

That was the first time in years Clyde had managed to leave Craig speechless without it being from a sentence so stupid no retort could salvage it. His mention had brought back the memory of your voice calling them that, loud and clear as if you’d been doing it right in that moment - making him ashamed of how much he did like it. Despite knowing that it was yet another part of the job, meant to sway needy fellows just like his friend and fool them into thinking they were actually liked so that they’d come back and spend more money to get the high of feeling adored, he knew the trap had caught him too. His blood had run boiling hot every time that word rolled off your tongue in your honey-coated voice, and his leg had been shaking under the table the entire time, a small outlet for a surge of unfamiliar energy that coursed through him - excitement. Sexual, of course, but not just that. A sense of true power.

Had it been anyone else, they’d have called Craig out on his prolonged silence and his cover would’ve been blown. But luckily, this was Clyde; a man not notoriously known for his long attention span.

“Do you think if I send them my CV, I can get a job in the kitchen?”

And just like that, Craig found a way off the corner his friend had put him in, swiftly adopting his serious mindset again as he tried to dissuade the brunet from showing up with his lackluster resumé and nonexistent cooking abilities to beg for a job - both men finding a distraction as they waited for the food to arrive, not paying attention when you finally emerged out of the kitchen.

No one knew how it happened. Whether something had been on the floor near the table that caught your step, if it had been your own foot over the other, or if you had tripped over nothing at all. Either way, it didn’t matter. Because before anyone could react, your body was halfway to the floor already, the contents of your tray escaping your hands while you held onto the metal as if it could catch your fall, a loud squeal ripping through the background noise of conversation in the café.

Your face landed near Craig’s shoe, both his feet raising off the ground as the surprise made him recoil in his chair - a movement that, although it might’ve prevented you from seeing the creases on his sneakers, did little to save him from the barrage of food and drinks that landed square on his body. Both his and Clyde’s orders hit him square in the lap and chest, the coffee they had ordered making him roar loudly in pain as the extremely hot liquid seeped through the fabric of his shirt. Porcelain mugs and plates broke on the floor, their shards scattering everywhere.  

Almost all of the workers in the room stopped what they were doing immediately to assist both you and your patrons, one of them helping you off the floor and taking you out of view to preserve what remained of your dignity while the others apologized to the pair of clients and started fixing the chaos, picking up the broken dishes and cleaning up the food and drinks from the ground. Someone had shown up with a wet towel to assist Craig in wiping away the mess on his outfit, and he didn’t know what was more humiliating; to have that happen to him to begin with, or to be tended to like a messy child by one of those soft-spoken maids while still knowing that he’d have to go back home in dirty clothes, probably even stained from the coffee.

The owner of the place herself had decided to waive both of the guys’ bills for the day as an apology gift, saying they could order whatever they wanted for that visit, as well as gifting them a fifty percent discount coupon for a possible next time; a deal that personally didn’t interest Craig at all - why the fuck would he return to that place to spend money there when they already screwed him over the first time? - but that pleased Clyde greatly, as he accepted the coupon with a huge smile and was quick to usher his friend back to their table so they could continue eating. 

The pair was set up with another one of your maid colleagues, who was pulling all the stops to make sure the both of them were comfortable and happy in their stay, considering the earlier fiasco. But Craig’s mood was already soured beyond repair, irritated with the theatrical antics that accompanied the food and wanting to just be left alone to eat and go home in his silence. It didn’t help that he didn’t care for much of what he ordered, either - the new cup of coffee that was sent his way felt too sweet, even though he hadn’t put any sugar in it, and his Kitten Warmth Whatever had spent one too many seconds on the grill, the markings on the bread a bit too charred for his specific tastes.

The black-haired man endured what he could for a while, but when seeing that Clyde was on his third slice of cake with absolutely no intentions of ending his indulgence of the free cafe food and the maid’s attention, Craig decided to just call an Uber for himself and leave his oblivious friend to figure out how to get home alone later. 

Not wanting to spend much more time inside, he got up and left the establishment without another word, deciding to wait on the sidewalk for the car, finding the noisy city streets surprisingly much less overwhelming than the corny environment of the cafe. Seeing that the rideshare was a good bunch of minutes away, he leaned against the wall outside, scrolling through his socials absentmindedly as he waited.

His brain faintly registered the sound of the café’s tiny door chime ringing, but he didn’t care much for it, figuring it was just another patron leaving much like him. So he wasn’t aware that it was you who slowly went down the steps outside the door and walked towards him - he was only made aware of your presence once you put your hand on his shoulder, calling out to him softly. “Excuse me, sir? Can- Can I have a moment?”

His whole body instantly tensed in light of your touch, his jaw clenching and grip tightening on his phone - a sight that made you recoil with your hand as you gasped in a much more vocal demonstration of the same surprise Craig seemed to be feeling. It was made painfully obvious he wasn’t one for much physical contact, as he only relaxed once you took a step back.

“I don’t have a bill to pay. They cancelled it.” He said dryly once he noticed you were not close to him anymore, still focused on his phone. Because of you, he wanted to add, but found it best to not make himself part of another scene outside.

You nodded quickly, both your hands moving to clutch your apron nervously. “I know, I know, I just…” You started off meekly, and he did notice how you seemed a bit scared, even. “I just wanted to apologize personally, sir. For dropping your order and ruining your clothes.”

For a brief moment, Craig was taken aback, his face lifting up slightly. He didn’t expect you to chase him outside for something like this, to speak to him personally and face his complaints head-on where the other customers wouldn’t see a thing. However, just as it came, it went - this was all just part of your work protocol, down to the shy behaviour, he was sure of it. For all he knew, your boss might as well have told you to come outside herself, not wanting to lose a potential client and wondering if he could be buttered up with soft words.

“You already said that,” he grunted, looking back down again, suddenly acting really interested in a TikTok that had played about forty-five times on his screen already. “You can leave now.”

Another small nod. “I know I have, sir, but…” You averted your gaze to the street briefly, your hands tugging softly at the white fabric they clutched, “I wanted to come and say it myself. I really mean it, sir. I’m so sorry for causing so much trouble, and I hope you can forgive me.”

Craig finally stopped messing with his screen and turned his face to you, catching your gaze in his. You were quick to drop your eyes to the ground, bending your whole upper body forward in a short bow. He’d never seen such a display before - apologetic submission wasn’t something people usually directed at him, and he would die before admitting that it felt good to see you like that, but it also made him angrier to think it was all an act.

“Fucking stop that already,” his groan made you turn your face up immediately, just in time to catch what was probably the most annoyed eye roll you had ever seen.

“I- I’m sorry?” You stuttered as you asked, mouth slightly open in surprise.

He put his phone in the pocket of his jacket and made a gesture with his hand, as if encompassing all of your body - or rather, everything that had to do with you. “This… Thing, all of it,” he huffed, “Stop.”

Slowly, you straightened your posture, though your expression was still nothing short of confused. “I don’t think I understand…”

“Of course you do,” Craig insisted, “It’s part of your job, acting all cute and shit like that. You don’t need to do that out here.”

“It’s not about my job, sir, it’s-"

“Don’t call me ‘sir’. We’re about the same age. It’s weird.”

“Sorry, ahm…” You lowered your face again, and there was silence as you tried to think of something else to call him, your hands kneading at the apron anxiously as you put all of your brain into that thought.

Noticing your struggle, the man decided to speak up again. “My name is Craig,” he said, “Maybe start out with that.”

“Oh, okay… Mr. Craig.” The man scoffed at the honorific, but didn’t actively complain. “It’s not about my job. I’m really sorry. As a person, not as a maid…”

“Then why do you keep acting like that?” He asked, “You’re outside. You don’t have to pretend to be all meek and shy and shit. Just say what you have to say and go.”

“I’m not pretending!” Your voice went even higher in pitch, if that was even possible. “I’m being honest!”

“Ugh, stop making that voice!” Craig threw his head back and tugged at the strings of his hat, the only thing not soiled by your earlier mistake. “Just say it like normal!”

“I’m not making a voice! This is just how I am!”

At this point, a few people passing by the sidewalk had either stopped completely or slowed their speed to pay attention to your discussion, which Craig noticed. He was getting visibly stressed out. With a huff and a second sharp tug to the strings, he forced himself to calm down.

“Look, no offense, but it’s so annoying.” His deadpan tone had returned. “It’s so fake. Nobody wants to deal with fake shit. If you act like the real you, then maybe people will actually believe when you apologize to them.”

You sighed. “I’m acting like the real me,” you stated back gently, “I can’t be anything else.”

And for the first time, Craig found that he wanted to believe you. It had never crossed his mind that someone could be so kind, so sweet, so cute, straight out their heart. Just… Wake up and be that, like he woke up and acted like a jerk every day. But if you had those words to say, that conviction - even if it felt like it was wrapped in cotton candy -, maybe you both were really being true to your essences.

Before he was able to say anything, though, a black car stopped near the both of you - Craig’s Uber, which he had forgotten he had even asked for. The man didn’t take his eyes off you as he entered the car, but no other sentences were exchanged. The ride home was equally silent for him, bringing home the weight of your argument and the smell of coffee on his clothes, along with the faintest hint of strawberry on his shoulder.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

Against his better judgement, Craig ended up visiting the café once more with Clyde, to take advantage of the discount coupon both of them got. That next time, his friend had convinced some other poor souls to tag along on the ‘adventure’, bringing back a bigger group, a concept that made Craig irked with the irony of it; he had not only managed to go back to the place he said he wouldn’t, but brought more paying customers with him.

You weren’t the assigned maid for his table that afternoon, but the black-haired guy still found himself chasing you with his eyes as you scurried around the café, serving your own clients. The extra people in his group meant he could just stay silent while they chatted among themselves, which gave him plenty of openings to sit alone with his thoughts and analyze your every movement, almost as if trying to catch a sign of weakness. No other accidents similar to his occurred during this next visit, so maybe he was just that unlucky, a concept that didn’t seem far-fetched to him. But still, something about you kept him on his toes. You felt more ‘real’ than the extremely fake version of the environment he had in his mind, and he wanted to know to which end that held true.

So began what could only be described as Craig Tucker’s insanity arc.The next time he went, and the one after that, and the others in sequence, he came in fully alone and of his own volition; there was no way he could make an excuse for going to the maid café. It started slow: Just showing up, getting a table in the corner away from everyone, ordering a black coffee like he would at any other establishment and sitting there saying nothing, refusing to play along with the maids’ over-the-top acts and leaving after a while. 

Until a day two weeks later where, by some wicked will of the gods, he managed to have you as his maid again - and it was very evident you were terrified of the ordeal, fidgeting with the fabric of your dress and approaching his table with your spine so straight you looked like you had a broom handle tied to it. Despite all that, you still managed to greet him with grace and politeness, as if his words from the previous exchange hadn’t fazed you at all. 

This brought to surface his curiosity again and led to his next crazy idea - asking to pay for the special fee that would make it so you’d sit with him at the table and engage in conversation with him. He’d seen other patrons doing so, considering them chumps for spending money on such a thing, but he wanted to figure out your deal, and maybe you’d be more comfortable with talking in your safe environment. Obviously you seemed surprised, but didn’t deny his request, adding the fee to his total on your tablet and taking the empty seat in front of him.

You talked for a while. As in, you talked. The first several minutes were spent in awkward silence, as they should considering the tense way you’d interacted the other day, but before you’d consider one of your usual icebreakers for shy clients, Craig did it for you by asking about the job. Not in a fascinated way like the other clients usually did when the subject came into play - which was something along the lines of ‘how does it feel to work in such a beautiful place every day?’ -, but in a more down-to-Earth vein, making it abundantly clear he wanted your true opinions. Which you gave to him. 

He sat in silence as you explained your thoughts, only stopping every now and then for him to order more coffee, a sandwich, or to renew the fee for your stay. The conversation naturally shifted into other topics, but as you babbled away in each of them, he was paying attention to your whole behaviour again; how even the more tense parts of the conversation didn’t seem to make you ‘break’ the ‘character’ he thought you had going on. When night had fallen and he finally left, he wasn’t exactly fully convinced, but he left the café already thinking of conversation starters for a next opportunity that would let him understand you better.

The owner, having noticed how that day went down, made the association that he was more prone to spending more time and ordering extra stuff if you were the one serving him, so she and the other maids began deliberately making sure to try and keep you available around the time where he usually showed up. And he was extremely punctual about his visits. So the next time, and the one after that, and the others, you were there - and, he was internally relieved to see, less nervous about his presence as well.

He never mentioned the first occurrence, and you obviously didn't either. The following meetings were much lighter in spirit, and although Craig didn’t behave as enthusiastically as all the other patrons did, he began sharing more about himself, letting himself engage with your questions rather than just asking you things. What’s more, he actually paid attention to the answers. Most clients were just keen on yapping away and didn’t remember much about the maid herself, since they weren’t going to return as often, but Craig showed up at least two times a week, always to hang out with you specifically, so it didn’t take long for an actual connection to form. 

Along with the vibes, what also changed was Craig’s appetite: he began taking your suggestions on specific dishes you liked from the menu, ordering them for himself and giving his sometimes too honest opinion. The plain black coffee made its appearance here and there, but it now competed with slices of cake and pie, different sandwiches, croissants, iced lattes, and even the occasional tea, all of them with long and cute names you pronounced with a naturality he still lacked.

There was one specific aspect of your interactions that he firmly held onto, though. He insisted that you not call him ‘Master’ or ‘Sir’ during your conversations - the very first customer to actively ask to be called by name. The maid roster had waved it off to a need for a more personal interaction, which you complied to gladly. Yet, it was unmistakable how his head would snap in other directions whenever another maid was in one of the nearby tables, talking to her ‘Master’; like the word drew Craig in, even if he refused to have it used towards himself.

Never would he admit it, but those encounters eventually became the highlight of his days. You were a breath of fresh air from the tribulations of his stressful life. He didn’t have many things that could calm him down the way your gentle voice did, and soon it was all that he could hear in his mind during days of particular irritation - it grounded him, validating his feelings with bits and pieces of advice you did give during your talks, but merged into something much more personal, like you actually cared. It disconcerted him how his heart rate would increase whenever you directed him a question about his experiences, and he’d have to force himself to remember you were just making the conversation you were paid to.

And having your eyes on him for hours, being able to stare at your beautiful face without shame as you hung onto every word that came out of his mouth… He hadn’t realized how much he craved that sort of attention until you came into the picture. Being single was comfortable for him, he had enough problems on his own without having to deal with someone else’s. But he wanted to deal with yours. He wanted you to feel safe with him the way he did with you, to know you past the limits of the tiny table in the corner, to have those stocking-clad legs walking beside him and to hold the hands that kept on bringing him all different kinds of pastries. But he wasn’t a creep, he knew where his boundaries resided with you, and Craig Tucker wasn’t the type of man to let a line blur - he wouldn’t squander his moments of peace over a flicker of interest that might not even be reciprocated. Being your client was all he needed, should be all he needed.

Funnily enough, for a guy so observant, he never noticed how eventually that fee from your table hangouts wasn’t being charged from his credit card anymore. Along with the price of a slice of cake or two.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[takaraphoenix]

Good news for everyone interested in the story, devastating news for me, who thought she was gonna write a short oneshot:

The Clever One (link to the excerpts I already posted on tumblr) decided to turn into a multi-chapter fic, as I was possessed to write like 2.1k on the season 2 finale alone today. Which is not what's gonna happen next, the story starts with the season 1 finale. Which means that all of season 2 has to happen in between.

I have however also decided to not delay it so the first chapter will be posted on AO3 and FFNet tomorrow. So, look out for some Pack Mom and Alpha Mate Stiles coming to a fanfiction site near you tomorrow! ;)

And to sweeten this announcement, have a tiny bit from what I wrote today at work, because I like being a tease.

--

“Help me get my pups down.”

Stiles' voice was a growl, his eyes hard. Even as he held his aching ribs and hunched over to avoid more pain, he somehow managed to be a threatening presence. Chris looked at him startled, his eyes wandering to Boyd and Erica, still strung up.

“Your pups.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles got to work. “You're clever, Chris. Figure it out. Your father did too, after all. That's why he took me.”

A pause, and a sharp intake of breath. “You're the Alpha Mate.”

“Ding, ding, ding,” Stiles' voice was dripping with fake cheer and sarcasm. “Now, help me get my pups down, or get the fuck out, I don't care.”

He was mildly pleased when Chris actually came to help him. With some difficulty, Boyd and Erica were freed, both wrapping themselves around Stiles near immediately, nuzzling his neck from either side to scent their Alpha. Stiles returned the gesture, as well as he could at the moment. Everything ached and the two werewolves attached to him were solid walls that limited his movement.

“Get out,” Chris ordered, voice low.

As Erica and Boyd flanked him from either side to help him, Stiles threw one last look at Chris. “Thank you. I'll not forget this.”

There was a tension in the air, both Chris and Stiles knowing how much these words meant. He was the Alpha Mate and he admitted a debt to the hunter. Stiles knew that was a big deal, but he also knew Chris deserved it. Knowing his mate's tendency for burning everything to the ground on his path for revenge – a bit ironic, all things considered – Peter may very well try to kill all remaining Argents. And Stiles had just handed Chris a get out of being murdered free card.

Stiles returned his attention to his betas. “C'mon, kids, time to get home.”

A sarcastic eyeroll from Erica that lost a lot of its effect due to her tear-smeared make-up and slowly healing bruises. “Sure thing, mom. I'm sure dad will be delighted.”

That actually made Stiles wince a little. Yeah, Peter was not going to be happy about this. Gerard had taken him to punish Peter, to send a warning to Peter. Ideally, Stiles would go home, nurse his wounds on his own and never tell anyone about this. Alas, there were two very worried and protective betas with him right now and there was just no way they weren't gonna go tattle to their Alpha. Might as well get it over with then.

[tracing-in-gold]

People I'd like to know better meme!

Tagged by @weisscreamcake and @elysianstars, thank you so much! Tumblr moots are so kind \(;O;)/

last song: Massive Attack, "Angel". (TW: stalking in a parking lot; strangers)

I heard the remix in some YT shorts, had to go back and hear the original. Ooh, my middle school and high school years. This is a song for those 3 a.m. nights of the soul; slow; brooding; prowling. You are not up at this hour for a good reason, and you like it that way. Do you have a Posse that needs to roll up? This is the song. Decided you want to have a group meet with your inner demons? This song puts them on speed dial and speaker phone.

The video itself is both ridiculous and profound. One guy, getting chased in a deserted parking lot by more and more men. Strangers dressed like him. It's a flashmob of tag, but before flash mobs were invented (it was the 90s). But at the end of the video, the man stops. Turns around...takes a step towards the huge crowd, being IT. And now he's the hunter, and there is soooo much prey.

It reminded me of all the anxieties and things we find we don't like about ourselves. The more we turn our backs and flee, the more they follow, haunting us. Not till we're face to face with what we're scared of, do we wrest power back to do something about them. The people chasing the poor guy don't disappear all at once, they still exist, just like all the not-fun shit we're accumulated in life. I like to think that even if they do not/can never go away, meeting them head on can empower us and we affect them back.

favorite color: my first color love has always been purple. BUT teal and coral also fill up my closet and things I carry.

last book/fic: Uhh, anything in the Fire Emblem Engage tag on AO3. Constant refreshes on that tag during my lunch. Indiscriminate kudos!

last movie: Suzume, plus the beautiful song that plays during the trailer. Not saying much about the plot because when you realize what event the movie is referencing, it hit me like Truck-kun.

last tv show: Been listening to whatever pops up on my YT feed, but I always stop to watch shorts from Love, Death and Robots.

sweet/spicy/savory: Sweet is my first impulse, but I can keep going on the savory!

current obsession: whyyyyyy Fire Emblem Engage?! I wasn't even looking for it, I just saw some FE Three Houses and saw there was a new Fire Emblem? And yes, the first time I saw the Alears, I understand the cringe. But I started watching, and the VAs for both Alears, especially m!Alear and the rest of the cast totally won me over. The VA for Zelestia, god I love her voice. I even got the game for Christmas, AND the art book, AND got to steal my siblings' Switch, just waiting for a good weekend to settle down and play and never ever sleep again.

last thing i searched for online: besides the song links, the open hours for my local pub. Last week was hell, I needed the blea--alcohol to not go for the worse stuff. Unfortunately, that meant I couldn't write either! D: The bright side? The bartenders remembered me, and the non-alcoholic menu is getting better too!

looking forward to: writing and hopefully posting fanfic this year! I actually got permission from another AO3 author to write a spin off of their oneshot. *happy dance* It's gonna be a spicy slow burn <3. Sooooo now I'm kinda obligated to finish it. On top of the AU that seized me bc I wanted Alear to have siblings (;____;).

Much as I flail at the proliferating fic ideas today, I'm coming off a six year dry spell where I couldn't really write anything. Work, school, historic pandemic, US political shenanigans, etc. As @purplehelleborewrites so eloquently put it, nothing grabbed my groin. I thought my drive to write was dead, that I'd never write anything ever again.

At least now I understand that my feelings were just the ride, but the actual skill is always there, whether I have the motivation or not. I'm not gonna take this second wind for granted this time <3 <3 <3. And that I can still write, even when my brain and heart have gone into Safe Mode to help me survive.

Tagging @purplehelleborewrites , @chrisemrysfics , @kitty-bandit , @daydreamingsommie , @benicchiis , @faerieniche , @brightchrysaor , @thefinalsnart anyone else who feels like participating. Don't feel like you have to though!

[isa-ghost]

Btw I've made a new tag "AMFMN things" for all things related to the fic. Be it actual chapters, The Writing Process(tm), asks, shitposts, etc. It'll all be under there.

Bc I'm sliding this into some main tags just in case, here's a,, recap of what the fuck I'm talking about, I guess:

Was making qPhil headcanons bc blorbo brainrot go brrrrr

Made some about Ender King possessed Phil

Got an ask about how Phil's closest friends would save him from EK

For some reason that altered my brain chemistry so hard that I started plotting a fic despite never ever writing any fanfic in my life

Fic is called Awake Me From My Nightmare (AMFMN). I have 7½ chapters planned and atm I'm toying with the idea of 12+ total at of the time of posting this. Aw yeah baby, longfic. Drawing out the angst. ����

It'll be posted on ao3, visible to everyone so you don't need an acc to read it or leave kudos/comments, etc!! :]

Gonna post chapters with links to the fic ofc, but might still also post the actual chapters on Tumblr (pls answer the poll at the bottom if you don't mind!)

Decided to stir some hype outside my friend groups that know abt it by posting a Plot Summary. Holy fuck unexpected amount of reception to it (thanks btw ;-; <3)

I started writing chapter 1 yesterday!! :D

To keep up my motivation for it, I'm always down 24/7 to get asks about it!! It's been generating new ideas for me and I love love LOVE dropping crumbs while I create stuff in general.

And, as I am the queen of it, I keep shitposting about writing & the fic itself too.

So in order to keep all that in one concise place I'm making a blog tag #AMFMN things to keep all that in one convenient place

So uh yeah. Hi. I've been writing OC stuff for 12+ years but now bc of unexpected events, I'm finally writing a fandom fic.

[spngeorg]

Episode 156 - 8.07 A Little Slice of Kevin

I typed the tagline for the title card for this one several weeks ago, before I came to a hard decision. Quoting the Animals song from the beginning of the episode, We gotta get out of this place, if it's the last thing we ever do... it kinda feels on the nose now. Since everyone can probably already guess what I mostly have to say about this one, I'm gonna use this space for a personal status update.

I've got an incredibly busy couple of months coming up, and have been seriously stressing about finding the time to write and record episodes through like... the end of summer. I've also been stressing over continuing to use spotify as my podcast host. It was bad enough before, but now to post there I have to agree to their "ai features" being applied to my little podcast, and I just... can't with that.

So for now, this will be the last episode I'm recording for a while. That doesn't mean this project as a whole is going away though! I already have the next episode "in the can," completely written up for AO3. And written more "properly" and completely than the notes I've been posting there to this point.

Considering my schedule, though, updates might be more or less frequent, and won't stick to the weekly posting schedule I've maintained for years now. What I will do is write up my complete notes, and then just post them when they're done. Some weeks, you might get two, other weeks none at all, depending on how stressful my life is being. But recording and editing the audio essentially doubles the amount of time these episodes take for me to do, so hopefully I can still mostly stick to getting out 3-4 a month still. We shall see!

Thank you to everyone who has been listening along (and reading along now!). I'm just finding it hilarious I started the podcast because I wanted to do a thorough meta rewatch without having to type everything out again, and here I am just deciding it's easier to just type everything out again...

LINKS!

The Superwiki page

My tag

My very long post of why i think Cas could’ve gone through the Purgatory portal with Dean

A brief post about destiel in early season 8 (and a much longer one…) (oh wait look here’s more) (look there a LOT in my tag for this one…)

Sometimes my old posts hurt me for multiple reasons (i miss you alex)

The beginning of Naomi’s influence on Cas

The Male Gaze shot (and a second post about it)

Homework for next week: Watch Duck Amuck

Complete notes for this episode on AO3.

Listen now on Spotify, or wherever you enjoy podcasts!

[spyroforlife]

reread my old OC-focused Invader Zim fanfic Tallers Can't Be Choosers on a whim

Well not entirely on a whim. I wrote it in 2013 and had put it on AO3, and I was very unused to AO3 tagging at the time so I hadn't tagged it very well. So I decided to revise the tags, but in order to do that, I had to actually reread the damn thing to properly remember it

and whew. What a trip down memory lane. There were several moments where I had to laugh at main character Ariva for apparently being a genius but also repeatedly making stupid decisions for the sake of plot. I can blame it on her being book smart and not street smart but tbh it was mostly poor writing :') But that's okay! It was a fun reread

Highlights:

Ariva already having been subjected to multiple assassination attempts, yet when she receives a call from an unknown irken saying he's trying to help her and directs her to a secret location, she listens and goes there. If he was actually an assassin himself he woulda just popped her ass. Luckily it worked out and he actually was wanting to help her. Because plot

Another moment, Ariva hanging out with her friends at a restaurant and some cops walk in and she figures she's safe because nothing's gonna happen with cops around. GIRL- (one of the cops was himself a disguised assassin but regardless)

Literally being in the hospital and as vulnerable as ever and she decides to ask for an audience with Red and Purple so she can directly confront them about them trying to have her killed so she won't grow tall enough to replace them. Do you think they go "ah gee you got us, we'll stop"? haha no they immediately just try to finish the job and she has to break the hospital window and jump to get away. Did I mention she was on the fourth floor. good thing irkens are durable

But yeah for a genius who dreamed of being a physicist, she sure was a dumbass <3 It was great looking back on that fic though, I did some fun irken worldbuilding in there. Minor stuff, but still. and I'm still very fond of Ariva and her friends Flek, Xyle, and Lutz. Feel free to check it out at the link above if you're curious!

And now I will go further down memory lane by looking at some old artwork I did for this fic, under the cut if anyone would like to join me :D Spoilers for the rest of the fic but honestly it's a pretty predictable plot so.

Cover I made for the fic in MS Paint, since the story was originally posted to FFN which lets you set covers for things, and I threw this together very quickly. Awkward anatomy abounds!

Avatar I made of Ariva for when I rebranded my original deviantART account to Tallest-Ariva. My original dA was named SpyroForLife (as you'd expect) but I renamed it to try and keep my parents from finding it and controlling what I posted. Eventually I decided to start an entire new account and named it Spyro-For-Life. woa. Since with the way renaming works on dA, I could never get the og name SpyroForLife (without the dashes) back. So. welp

I now don't even touch the original account and I barely use the new one either except to post my art on the rare occasions I actually draw something these days :') Moving on!

A group shot I did of several of my irken OCs, since I just wanted to draw them all together. Keen-eyed viewers will recognize that my Ariva avatar was taken from this particular drawing of her, and I just recolored her eyes so they're looking at the viewer.

But yeah! Ariva dancing with her friend/eventual love interest Flek, who she had made an ambassador (his life's dream) as soon as she became Tallest. Xyle laments that Ariva is dancing with his best friend and not HIM!! And Lutz just observes the scene with disinterest. She's known Xyle for many years, she knows he'll get over it

Gwen and Trill, Shade, and Ket are all from their own fics that never got finished nor did they make it to a point where I started posting them in the first place. It happens!! I still love them. Anyway

Let's look at some traditional art!

This was a super ambitious drawing, as you can tell. It has a background!! :O But beyond that, it was mostly just. Me trying to get a feel for Ariva as a character, so here she is, doing some vague science things on a hologram. Yippee

And here's a more dramatic one I did to represent her being menaced by the Tallest! My girl is a scrawny ass nerd but she won't hesitate to fight them!!

she ends up needing severe training from an actual military instructor to even come close to matching them in combat skills but ssh

A drawing that I'm pretty sure never got colored of Ariva taking a breather after some studying. Some very light studying. Yeah. I'm sure she's fine.

And finally a nice lil group shot of Ariva post-fic with her friends! Lutz, who has long been interested in meteorology and took on a job as a weather reporter to try and get an opportunity to train into the field, and Ariva ended up using her influence as Tallest to make her a meteorologist. Flek, as mentioned before, became an ambassador, and his first assignment was Vort, as he could speak Vortian and was very knowledgeable about their culture and economy. Ariva had just recently released the planets that had been previously conquered, so ambassadors were of COURSE needed to smooth things over and try to encourage the planets back as allies.

Flek received a vicious swipe from a Vortian on his first trip, but didn't press charges, as he thought it was fair. He'll forever bear a scar from it though.

And Xyle works as a mechanic and is quite happy with the job, and is probably the one Ariva pulled strings for the least. Most she did was probably ensure his company pays well, and that he feels safe there. Otherwise he's doing just fine.

So yeah! There's a lil throwback about one of my old fics that I'm still rather fond of! Hope you enjoyed coming on this adventure with me <3

[celestialiron]

Echoes of Courage: Chapter 1

After much consideration (asking from you guys here!) & my best friends also telling me to "stop being a little bitch & post it!" (with all of their love lol) I'm going to be updating my story here too! I posted the link to the prologue since it ties in with the story too! I'll still be posting chapters to my AO3 for my story too, it'll be paused until I catch up to both here & AO3! Finally, it's my OCs time to shine!

But without further adieu, here's chapter 1 of my story!

WARNING: Everyone in the story are all adults (unless there's a flashback then I will mention it)! As well as a lot of harsh language, suggestive themes, violent scenes, and other triggering moments that will progress throughout the story (which will also be warned beforehand). So minors & TCEST shippers, DNI. Please be respectful of not only myself & my story, but also of each other. Be kind to one another.

Summary: This is a story of love, lost, family, friends and trying to get a hold of everything being thrown at them. This will be a tale for the people involved, but with the help of loved ones and getting to trust one another, they're hoping that everything will be put to an end once and for all...

The day started like any other Friday for a senior college student: stressed and tired. Izra Montague sure knew how to handle it, especially with all the classes as a senior music student who took so many credits to graduate on time with her college friends and start up her career. ‘Oh lord, it’ll be from today, 2 weeks until graduation and I don’t even know what to do for it,’ thought Izra, arm over her eyes as she lay in her bed, mind still blown as she found out she’s able to walk and graduate on time and hadn’t even thought of anything to do for herself. The amount of graduation parties from her close college friends were able to help her decide if she even wanted one or not, but still going to theirs. Deciding to do something more productive, Izra sat up from her bed, checked the time to see if she had enough time to make something to eat before her class. The clock read 12:00pm , to which she proceeded to get something quick to eat before her class. While getting dressed, deciding to wear dark blue jeans with regular van shoes with a plain black strapped shirt, wearing a flannel over it, Izra checked her phone for any messages from school, friends, whichever she can see first. The first thing she read was from the group chat with her friends April O’Neil and the Hamato brothers. Smiling while reading the text messages, Izra groaned as the group continued to ask whether she was going to have a graduation party or not. 

LoserLeo: can you please make up your mind for once, Izz-Bizz? This will only happen once in a lifetime if we don’t celebrate your day! :( 

Don-Bot: I mean if we really want to be technical-

Razz_Mikey: yeah, what Leo said! WE’LL PLAN EVERYTHING LIKE WE DID FOR APRIL’S GRAD PARTY

April’sNews: Well, let’s double think about that now, ESPECIALLY from that grad party :o

BigBearRaphie: I agree, we don’t want a repeat of certain people getting so drunk they don’t even remember they were calling their boyfriend, RIGHT LEO?

LoserLeo: HEY, WE AGREED TO NEVER SPEAK OF THAT OR MY EX!

Laughing at the last message that was sent in the chat, Izra started typing out her response, hoping it’ll calm the fire that will be set to burn someone soon. With the last message sent, Izra left her place and went off to class.

MysteryIzzie: thank you for bringing it up, I thought I was going to be the one to do the job, but thanks Raph! xD

MysteryIzzie: BUUUUUUT I will let you guys know AT LEAST an idea soon, I promise you all that! :) I’ll talk to you guys later, gonna head to class!

Meanwhile, the four Hamato brothers were up at the lair, all sitting in the projection room trying to plan what to do for their friend. “I mean, how bad would it be if we planned something soooort of similar to what we did for April’s party?” Leo suggested, trying to at least get the ball rolling if Izra was going to be indecisive. All three brothers glared at Leo, Donnie speaking up, “out of the question! We’re not going to be dealing with any repercussions to your dum-dum exes or booty calls if you get too drunk again and start making calls!” Glaring at him, Leo tried to say something (most likely the lines of ‘ it won’t and you guys need to stop bringing it up!’ ) Mikey exclaimed, very excitedly, “WE CAN DO A HUGE GROUP PARTY!” looking over at Mikey, who suddenly brought in a white board (most likely taken from Donnie’s lab, to which he was not too happy about), and started planning out ideas. “We don’t necessarily need to do single parties for everyone, when we can just combine it for everyone to enjoy! And this will be good for Izzie to meet more people than just her college friends, April, and us!” Once finishing up what he was writing, he showed a very large timeline of various names and in the middle read * PARTY* in huge letters and circled multiple times following it. Looking at the board, Raph was the one to speak first, “well, while this is nice and all Mikey, don't you think they should all at least, I don't know, meet each other first? Like what April did before? Also, Alexis can’t come that Saturday, she starts her new job soon and always has Saturdays to work.” A little saddened by the news, Raph gave Mikey a reassuring pat on the shoulders, smiling while staying positive for him, “you know she’ll want us to have it anyways bud, besides what you got going looks great!” With a nod, they all continued on, deciding who could come and who couldn’t come.

While figuring it out, with now the help from April who came over about an hour after they were still planning it out. It seemed perfect, however a couple of them were still a bit on the defensive side on whether Izra should meet with these other people earlier or not. “I’m just saying, we all know how Val is, I think it should be a first meeting at least with her of all people!” Leo exclaimed, already knowing how one of his other best friends was going to react to meeting new people, especially those she really didn’t know. Groaning in agreement, April dejected, “hey, maybe this will be a good exercise for her too! She’s got to be better at meeting new people! ALSO CONTROL ONE OF YOUR SUPPOSED “BESTIE” THEN LEO!” “Awe Apes, no one could replace youuuu!” Leo said, trying to get April to hug him, knowing she was joking about the last bit. Rolling his eyes, Donnie brought up a good point to them all, “well, as you should know too, Kira, Ruka and Valeria are long time friends so if anyone should also be able to “handle” her, it’s the both of them too. Especially since Ruka was nice enough to agree to this idea in the first place.” Nodding their heads in agreement, Leo smirked, deciding to mess with his twin, “awe see, they’re not even together and he still chooses Kira over us,” was said while chuckling, Raph and Mikey joining him about Donnie’s very much obvious crush on Kira while April sighed, patting Donnie’s battle-shell before letting him decide if he should kill his brothers or not. “You better sleep with one eye open Nardo, I know just how to mix specific herbal flowers with tea. You can thank Kira for that too,” Donnie growled, going on the defense about Kira (absolutely trying to block out his feelings at the moment). Making Leo swallow his saliva quietly before returning to the board, “ any-who , so it looks like we got ourselves the final people who could actually make it! Now the next step: asking them if they could or not,” with that in mind, all 5 were on the mission to get everyone ready to meet each other for the first time in such a huge setting.

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

Later that day, Izra was heading out to a coffee shop before meeting up with April and the guys, needing some caffeine after the day of classes, glad it was the weekend to spend a break with friends. ‘Man, I can’t wait to hear what the guys had planned, almost had to turn off my phone so I wouldn’t get distracted in class.” Thought Izra, while waiting on her mocha frappe from the cafe she loved coming to since she started school. Thanking the cashier for the drink, she started to head out, deciding to sit at one of the tables that just sits closely by the cafe to catch up on missed messages and any assignments to work on. While mindlessly scrolling through her phone, Izra wasn’t made aware of someone looking at her, almost as if they were having whiplash at who she was. Before long, Izra heard someone call her name.

“Izra? Izra Montague?”

Stopping dead in her tracks from what she was doing on her phone, Izra froze, ‘Oh my god, is that…?’ she thought as she turned around to face who was calling to her. There stood a woman her age, about a height taller than Izra, a light caramel tan to her skin, her long brown curled hair up in a bun, wearing black leggings with gray flats and a plain grayish white shirt with a loose black cardigan to go with the outfit. Apparently, she had also ordered coffee from the same cafe, to Izra’s surprise that she didn’t even notice her there.

“Ruka? Is that really you?” Izra asked, wanting to pinch herself believing it was all a dream and she would wake up from it eventually. “Yeah, it’s really me…” Ruka answered, also seeming a bit hesitant on asking her the same question. “Am I dreaming or am I actually seeing you, Izzie?” She ended up asking, also wanting to believe that Izra was here and not stuck somewhere else and far from home. Tearfully, Izra got up from her chair, fully facing Ruka, smiling as bright as one can, “yes, I’m here… I’m the real thing, unfortunately,“ she laughed as Ruka covered her mouth from shock, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks as she smiled, running up to her long-time friend for a tight hug, as Izra gave her an equal amount of hugging too. They both stood there hugging for about 10 minutes, not wanting to let go as if either one would disappear from each other, letting people walk past them without a care in the world. Slowly they let go, very happy to have found each other again, Izra was the first to speak, “I would’ve never guessed for you to be living here ma’am! How long have you been here?! Who else is here?! Did you come here alone?! What happened-” before she could continue her questioning, Ruka stopped her before anymore was said, “I didn’t think so either, but if you have some time, we can catch up here, if you want to…” she asked hesitantly, thinking back to the old days and remembering what had happened back home. Noticing her hesitation, Izra paused, feeling a bit guilty about the things that happened back then, but she isn’t who she was back when she left home, not anymore. 

“Of course I have time! I understand why you would ask though. Natalie almost couldn’t believe it either…” she started, staying a bit quiet before continuing, “listen, I’m sorry for what I said, what I did back home. I never intended to make ANY of you feel that way or the words that were spoken that day too, I was angry at the world, mainly myself really…” Izra looked to the side, not feeling confident about looking at her best friend at the moment. “I know it doesn’t excuse what I did, but I want you to know how guilty I’ve felt ever since and I worked hard to find myself again and then-” before she can continue on with her apologies, Ruka hugged her again, squeezing tightly, giving Izra reassurance, “I know you are. I know you felt guilty about it, we wouldn’t be best friends if I didn’t know you like the back of my hand.” She said, letting go for a bit to look at Izra, already knowing her best friend has well improved since her days away from home. “I already forgave you. We ALL have.” Ruka squeezed her shoulders, once again reassuring Izra everything is okay, “let’s continue this conversation sitting, as much as standing around is nice, I’ve been walking around all day and I need a break,” she said, both woman giggling while sitting back down to where Izra had just been, finally getting a chance to talk about everything .

Once the time hit 5 in the afternoon time, both Izra and Ruka were still on the table chatting away, happy to catch up on times they’ve both missed out on. In the midst of their conversation, Izra got a text from April, giving her details about the now planned graduation party they got going for her, except now it turned into a huge one since her other friends/co-workers are also invited, apparently also graduating from school too. With a sigh, Izra put the dates on her phone, seeing multiple events coming up after graduation. “Whoa, that sigh usually means you’re nervous and stressed. What’s the problem?” Ruka asked, already sensing her friend’s stress from across the tables. Sighing again, groaning in the process, Izra explained, “so, remember how I told you I’m graduating? One of my friends and her brothers are planning this huge graduation party but it’s the same day you asked me to come over for Kira’s and Val’s graduation/ceremony party too, which even after that is when I’ll actually catch a break from everything, LITERALLY.” With that said, Izra laid her head on the table, coffee long gone and now stressing about what to do for the issues she had going on. Laughing softly, Ruka patted her head, hoping to help her friend out in any way possible, “so how about this, you asked them what time it starts and whatever time they pick, you can meet us earlier. Think that’ll be fine with them?” Sitting up, Izra looked to Ruka as if she had just grown wings and was an angel sent above, “oh my god, yes that’s genius! I’ll ask when I see them later tonight!” Getting out of the chair, she ran towards Ruka, hugging her while tearfully thanking her, “I missed you so much, no one would’ve gotten it except you. Should’ve tried to find me sooner bitch!” Ruka laughing while hugging her back. Also getting up and throwing away their empty cups, they both stood still, not wanting either one to leave back to their places. 

“So, wanna walk together until we actually have to go back to our places?” Izra shyly asked, not wanting the great time the two just shared together. Smiling softly, Ruka agreed, both continuing the conversation they had on their way back. Once reaching the subway station, Ruka finally asked what had been on her mind, almost hesitating on asking in general “so since you’ve seen Natalie, have you seen Alexis yet?” Hearing the question, it took Izra about a couple of minutes to respond, smiling softly, which surprised Ruka, “yeah, I saw her too. It was Natalie’s idea for us to meet again and oh boy did I get an earful.” Closing her eyes, remembering seeing Alexis for the first time in what felt like forever, but it had only been about two and a half years since seeing each other from home. Opening her eyes, they both went inside the subway cart, as she continued on, “it was brutal, which I understood from her point too. I let her have the moment she deserved, it wasn’t fair what I did to her too,” looking out to where each station was then down to her hands, “but in the end, she did the same thing like what you did. Forgave me.” She sighed, nervously twiddling her fingers, “forgiving me for leaving and not even letting anyone know I was okay. Though it was hard, in the end, the three of us hugged it out, while Fred was waiting for us too, giving me the biggest hug while calling me a loser in the process.” Both chuckled, Izra remembering fondly how her brother-in-law had taken upon himself, while using their cat Aria, to bicker like they used to back home.

Realizing she was almost close to her place, Ruka stood up to get ready to leave, taking Izra’s phone in the process. Confused, Izra waited until Ruka was done, realizing that she was putting her phone number in her phone. “Here, since you apparently upgraded your phone, I added mine again since I also got a new phone just recently.” Happy with the number, Izra exclaimed to Ruka, “I feel so honored. Before you forget, send me your address so I know where to go for whenever you’re not too busy with anything!” Once more, they both shared a hug, letting Ruka leave the cart to head to her house while Izra waits for the next stop to see April and the guys. Getting up, ready to leave from the next stop, she heard her phone ring, signaling a text message was sent to her. Once the subway stopped, Izra stepped off, walking towards the direction of the brother’s home, checking her phone for whoever sent her a text message. Smiling even more, realizing it was from Ruka, all the message read was:

Ruka: I’m really glad I saw you today. Something in me felt like I was going to run into someone & it turned out to be you :) I know it sounds cheesy, but I guess the spirits knew what they were doing apparently lol

Ruka: Also, I didn’t get the chance to say it when we were talking, but I’m proud of you. You look like yourself again & that’s what's most important. I know it must’ve been hard to learn to forgive yourself on your own, but as always, what happened wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t any of our faults. Everyone is going to be happy and proud of you when they see you again too sweetie! I just know it! <3

Having to stop to finish reading what she sent, Izra almost started crying right there on the spot. Wiping away the pre-tears that threaten to come out, she didn’t realize that Leo and April were on their way to get her, but stopped once they saw Izra fully stopped from walking, almost on the verge of tears. Looking at each other concerningly, having not seen her that way in a long while, walking slowly, with April speaking softly, not wanting to make matters worse, “hey, you okay? Do we have to go beat up someone? Or make a professor cry?” After that was said, Leo spoke up, “making a professor cry? I’ll go get Donnie,” turning around to make his move, before getting stopped by Izra, shaking her head smiling. “Guys, I promise you I’m okay. These are happy almost tears,” Izra said, looking at the two, happy that they were concerned about her wellbeing. 

Making the quick decision to move on before much else was said, the three started making their way over to the projection room where everyone else was. Izra spoke before the two could question her, “do you guys remembered how I mentioned my friends from home? How I thought they couldn’t ever forgive me for leaving?” Confused, but the two nodded in agreement, remembering about a year and a half ago where they had comforted her that day from her guilt and depression. Smiling, she continued, “well, after so long, I ran into one of them from the café I go to before coming over. That’s why I was running a bit late tonight,” she finished, looking down to the ground while continuing their walk over. Surprised by what she just said, Leo was surprisingly the first one to ask, “what happened? I’m going to assume you both reconnected your friendship again seeing from your reaction not 10 minutes ago,” chuckling, Izra nodded her head, looking over at the two, making them stop walking to listen to what she had to say.

“It was…… Amazing. I knew you guys were right from the start that they were going to forgive me, but hearing it today from her felt….. Wonderful. We caught up on so much, we lost track of time, which also leads me to what I need help from you both too,” Squinting his eyes and before he could get a word in, April interrupted, “oh boy, what do you need help with?” She questioned, having the feeling that Izra was going to request anything from them. Hesitantly, Izra started, “well you see, she invited me to her home the day that it’s done being renovated, just a couple of more things to be done to the house and it’ll be complete!” It then turned into rambling, “the only problem is that the day it’ll be done is the day we have my graduation party with your coworkers too and it’s going to be my old friends from home, so we were going to meet up earlier before the party time start and they’re also busy with something else too, but if there was anything else that needed to be done earlier than I’ll gladly help if you guys need me and-” before the rambling could get any worse than it already was, April stopped her, putting both her hands on both shoulders, saving the three of them time and energy from it all. 

“Girl, relax! I’m just happy you’re reuniting with your friends from home! I’m sure the rest of them will understand, well at least Donnie and Raph yes, Mikey however…” April hesitated, thinking about it clearly until Leo joined in, easing both their worries, “don’t worry about Angelo, mis amigas ,” Izra rolled her eyes at that, “I’ll sweeten the deal if it goes awol, but I’m pretty sure he’ll understand for the most part too. Just as long as you could help me with any of them too, guy or gal, y’know how I roll” Leo finished, a quick wink with a smile on his face too, evident that he too was happy for his close friend, going to be seeing her childhood friends again soon. Smiling brightly, happy for the help and support from her close friends, Izra hugged them both. Letting go afterwards, she gave Leo a good smack upside the head, exclaiming how she “was not going to set him up with any of them, no matter what he says!” 

Laughing on the way to where the rest of the Hamato family was, Izra finally felt like she could take on anything now. Especially with the return of her old friends, being with new friends, and hoping both worlds would get along just fine, maybe even be much more closer like she was with April and the brothers. ‘Oh yeah, I think it’s going to be great. I have a good feeling about this,’ thought Izra, before reaching the room to explain her situation, excited to get everyone on board.

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

(Prologue: Current: Ch.2)

[miraculousmultifan]

Taylor Swift prompt fest!

Steve / Eddie Shake It Off Season 02 AU - the Halloween Party The most Steve-coded of these Steve-coded lyrics: I go on too many dates But I can't make 'em stay But I keep cruisin' Can't stop, won't stop movin' It's like I got this music in my mind Sayin' it's gonna be alright

My ex-man brought his new girlfriend She's like, "Oh my God!" but I'm just gonna shake And to the fella over there with the hella good hair Won't you come on over, baby? We can shake, shake, shake (yeah)

hiii!! thank you so much for the prompt! i hope you enjoy the fic :D

as a reminder, this is part of my event: stranger things (taylor's version), and you can find the prompt list HERE

i'm also cross-posting this fic (and every other fic from this event) to my ao3, so if you'd prefer to read it there, HERE IS THE LINK

Shake It Off

When Steve stepped out of the bathroom, leaving Nancy to… freshen up, he hadn’t wanted to see Jonathan Byers right after. But nothing ever seemed to go his way after that slimy monster attacked them, did it? 

It doesn’t matter. Just shake it off, man.

“Hey, Steve,” Jonathan called to him meekly. “Have you seen Nancy? She invited me, but I haven’t seen her since I got here.”

It’s probably not what you think, Steve. Shake it off.

“She’s in the bathroom by the kitchen. She’s gotten pretty drunk so you should probably drive her home,” Steve replied, deadpan, trying to keep his voice even to avoid making a scene.

Jonathan cocked his head. “You aren’t taking her?”

Trying to think of any other excuse that wasn’t ‘we had a fight and the sight of her right now makes me want to scream,’ Steve replied, “I’ve been drinking too, man. Don’t wanna get a DUI.”

Without another word, they parted ways. As Steve was walking away, he heard Nancy delightedly exclaim, “Jonathan!” His chest clenched, and he attempted to stop the scowl from darkening his face.

Shake. It. Off. Steve!

Although he hadn’t realized he was doing it, Steve made his way to the kitchen to grab another drink. Beer wasn’t really cutting it anymore, but he remembered seeing someone dump vodka into the fruit punch, so he poured himself a hefty cup of the stuff. If he was going to stick around this party, Steve certainly wasn’t going to do it without adding a little artificial fun.

Once he had started feeling the buzz of the alcohol fogging up his brain pleasantly, Steve joined the thrum of people in the living room dancing. The current song was one that Steve couldn’t remember the name of, but he knew that he loved it!

While the kind of dancing everyone else was doing seemed to revolve around nodding their heads, tapping their feet, and just generally trying to look cool, Steve let himself loosen up. It was like he became the center of attention, feeling the music move through him as he matched the beat with his body.

And it was fun! Way more fun than if he decided to go straight home and mope around in his empty house because Nancy didn’t love him.

The thought of Nancy sobered him up a little, though. Now he was at the point where he could hear conversations happening around him.

“I saw Nancy Wheeler leave the party with that loner, Byers. Harrington really can’t make them stay. Imagine losing your girlfriend to the same guy twice.”

“You’d think after dating half of the female student body he’d figure out how to get a girl to like him for more than just a quick fuck.”

Steve tried to lose himself in the music again.

“Harrington really fell off, huh. That weird fucking dance makes him look like a barfing cat.”

“Literally! I can’t believe we all thought he was cool. This is so lame it’s sad.”

For some reason, Steve found himself sinking back into the feeling from before. He was having fun. He was making his own dance up, and it felt great!

Soon, though, the song switched to something with a different beat, and Steve had to find the rhythm again. When he opened his eyes to get a better grip on his bearings though, he was looking directly at Eddie Munson standing in the corner.

He looked unimpressed and generally disinterested, and Steve frowned. It was a really bad look to have someone unhappy at your party. Sure, technically it wasn’t Steve’s party, but as the proclaimed “King of Parties,” he was basically his duty to right this infraction.

Before Steve even realized he was walking, his feet led him straight to Munson, stopping him too close for the average person’s comfort. He started drafting what he was going to say, trying to find the right combination of words that would get Munson to have fun, but instead…

“If you’re here for weed, your Majesty, I’m afraid I’m fresh out of stock for the night,” Munson drawled, watching Steve with guarded eyes.

“What?” Steve blinked once. Then twice. Oh… “Ah, right. Weed.” Ever eloquent, that was where Steve’s mouth decided to shut off.

Munson raised an eyebrow at Steve suspiciously. “If you weren’t looking for weed, why are you standing here?”

“You’re not having fun,” Steve stated. Come on, get to the point, Steve!

Putting on a theatrical face, Munson sing-songed, “What an astute observation, my Lord! Though, I do regret to inform you that this is strictly a business venture. Nobody has fun when they’re conducting business, my Liege.”

All of Munson’s fancy words were kind of fucking up Steve’s ability to get the words he wanted to say out of his brain and into his mouth. “Huh?”

Munson sighed, obviously becoming fed up with Steve's conversation skills. “Did this conversation have a point, or did the braincells I lost while standing here just die for nothing?”

“Come dance with me!” Steve finally suggested.

“I beg your everloving fuck?” Munson answered, his face twisted in several different complicated expressions.

Steve grinned. “You’re not having fun, so come dance with me! I wasn’t having fun a couple minutes ago, and now I feel great!” He paused for a moment and frowned. “Though I guess that could’ve been the vodka…”

Munson pinched the bridge of his nose and grumbled under his breath, seeming just to himself, “Why are you even entertaining this, Eddie? Get a grip!” Then he relaxed his shoulders and looked up, staring at Steve calculatingly as he said, “So let me make sure I got this right. You, Steve Harrington, are inviting me, Eddie Munson, to dance with you in this crowded room full of practically every popular kid in our high school.”

“You know, you have really nice hair,” Steve replied instead. “What conditioner do you use? It looks so soft.”

Squinting at him like he had two heads, Munson finally relented and snarked, “It seems like someone should be chaperoning you right now, so… I guess I can rise to the occasion for once.”

Steve beamed at Eddie and led him deeper into the mass of people so they could be closer to the music. Once he found what he deemed to be the perfect spot, Steve let himself feel the music once again. He wanted to get rid of all that other shit.

The gossipmongers at Hawkins High always start shit at every opportunity. Sometimes the most basic things get circulated through every rumor mill, and Steve had given up trying to plaster on a fake smile and put on a show.

Suddenly, Steve turned to Eddie and said, “Hey, you’re against all that conformist shit, right? Like doing your own thing or something?”

“Yeah, man… I am,” Eddie replied carefully.

Steve smiled, hoping he figured out how to get Eddie to really join him. “That’s what this is. Dancing like an idiot because it’s lame and so fun and I don’t have to worry about anyone else’s… bullshit.”

Eddie hummed, watching Steve appraisingly before his lips quirked up into something a couple of degrees off of affection. “Alright, I think I can get behind that. Wanna pretend like we’re the lead singers of this band performing a sold-out show?”

Brightening considerably, Steve pumped his fist. “Hell yeah!”

Once Steve gave his approval, Eddie whipped out an air guitar and started strumming viciously, his motions not at all synced up to “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.” Steve grinned and picked up his own fake microphone, tilting the stand around like he was Elvis Presley while he headbanged aggressively. Cyndi Lauper was not an artist people would usually headbang to, but it was fun, so Steve was doing it.

Naturally, people started to stand and gawk at their display, but their confused and disgusted looks only seemed to fuel Eddie’s energy. Hey, that’s what Steve had been trying to do! Getting Eddie to join him was definitely the right choice.

Matching Eddie’s enthusiasm, Steve leaned in closer to him to share the microphone as if they were singing a duet. Eddie snorted out a surprised laugh at Steve’s antics, but he still joined in with the charade.

Even when people started whispering around them, Steve didn’t care anymore. Their words slid off of him like water off his back. Plus, Eddie looked like he was having fun too.

Steve was starting to forget why he had been so upset before… Eh, it was probably just some stupid bullshit anyway.

[michameinmicha]

Hi Micha,

Re: your post about the two people gifting each other fics for the same pairing continuously - I suppose it's possible the time frame and number of fics might fit another set of fandom friends, but I have a suspicion I'm one half of that. A regular reader nudged this post my way, actually. If so, I'd just like to thank you very much for not naming the fandom, pairing or usernames! It's the kind of ship that leads to us getting harassment on a semi-regular basis anyway (hence the locked posting of fics), and we don't need more of that.

As for the true love thing - we started gifting each other in exchanges because we both realised we've been madly in love with the same character in that fandom since we were children. So FWIW, you're right about the true love, but in the wrong way. :D

Hello! (I saw you sent this last night? (Well where i live it was night) and i wanted to take some time to write a proper answer (although now it got super long sorry))

(Edit: You know what, im putting this under a read more, its not gonna be interesting to most people who aren't the anon anyway lmao)

Im happy to hear from you (and if you wanna chat off-anon feel free to dm me) and just judging from your message i also think you might be right! (Ive seen a handful of pairings mentioned in the notes who might fit but arent the one i talked about, ...i cant explain it but i have a feeling it might be you)

At first when i made the post i didnt expect it to get this big but when it did and some people started to ask or make guesses about the pairing i was curious if anyone would guess right (and really didnt believe it could happen tbh) but then it kept getting bigger and people took it as a challenge and i finally i decided i didnt want to say it anyway. Im glad your little corner of the internet stays calm and nice <3

I hope you dont mind the post, it really touched me to see your works and i just wanted to share that experience and make others feel a bit of this emotion too.

i was too shy to comment on the fics i read (sorry im working on getting better at it) but im hoping you'll read this answer so i want to use this opportunity to say some of my thoughts (I would have liked to send you some friendly anons to say this back then😅 but you didnt have tumblrs linked in your ao3 profiles) i enjoyed reading your stories a lot! I had some really stressful weeks when i came across the pairing tag and even though im not really in the fandom myself (besides enjoying what i knew of the source material years ago) i was happy to find it! it was such a nice little treasure, this collection of stories to read when i was feeling down and they cheered me up a lot! So yeah im sorry to hear you get harrassment for it but i for one am glad you post the fics despite that, because then i could find and appreciate them! (this all sounds very sappy but i mean it!)

Im happy that you two found each other! I gotta say 'true love' to me is just as much platonic as romantic (like, the relationship i have with my best friend isnt anything less than true love to me) but i also think its wonderful that you share that love for your character!

I hope you two are doing great, please tell your friend that i appreciate their work (and yours of course!) And i wish you that you can keep doing this for as long as it makes you happy!

[memberment]

The End Is Near

I'm sorry, but having running gags across my fics is so fucking funny to me. Like I think this is the third fic I've mentioned NO ONE wanting to get Clyde started on the topic of vampires since I first thought about it and it has made me laugh every single time.

I have another three where it is implied in some way shape or form that Bebe literally drives like a fucking lunatic (and does it well) b/c she loves NASCAR or wanted to be a NASCAR driver in some way shape or form (this spawned from a phoned in joke in Tweek's version of guide)

AND THERE ARE SO MANY OTHERS BUT LIKE THESE TWO MAKE ME LAUGH SO HARD. (I'm thinking about this bc I'm working on the end and I have just implemented the gag of Clyde not shutting the fuck up about vampires (Tolkien and Craig are both annoyed by this.) LMFAO)

Anyways I'm 15.6k into book 3. Craig's chapter might be ridiculously long, but I am not giving him two LMFAOOO.

1:35 guys I'm doing something fucking insane rn LMFAO

3:42 okay, I just finished doing the insane thing. Do you guys wanna know how many words I wrote, in this the month of August 2024??

128,607.

This does not include minor edits, notes, or anything not SP related. IT HAS JUST BECOME AUGUST 20TH. I HAVE WRITTEN 770 WORDS SINCE MIDNIGHT. I'm laughing so fucking hard. Anyways. Decided I'm gonna be posting a monthly wrap up that's gonna have everything I've written the entire month. If I knew I was gonna be on AO3 longer than seven fanfics, I would've been doing this, but live and learn, right? Idk what I'm gonna post it on though bc that would abs fuck my word count LMFAOOOOOOO. Also ao3 posts only allow 500k characters, this single doc that contains 19 days plus four hours has 708240.

Maybe I'll just drop the link somewhere. This is literally insane behavior. BUT I ALREADY CAME THIS FAR LIKE I NEED TO SHARE THIS LMFAOOOOO

Anyways now I'm rereading Genesis bc I can't pick a fucking project so Genesis updates may or may not be here. Also, I am starting to wonder at what point does something go for horror elements to straight up horror. Because I fear I have definitely breached into horror territory with that one. LMFAO. Also I'm probably posting Tammy's chapter early because honestly I want these fucking intros out of the way SO I CAN GET TO THE STORY LIKE NO ONE UNDERSTANDS THEY'RE DRIVING ME INSANE. WE NEED TO BE ON CHAPTER THIRTEEN LIKE YESTERDAY. OR FOURTEEN. OR 25-26. screams.

I'm laughing. Here y'all go. It's 253 pages rn. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1inE_K8XDazRiUoTgNz2CtBOBp9kkdDk8yBzU8s444lo/edit?pli=1

NEVER FUCKING MIND IT GOT DELETED WOW LMFAOOOOOO

I JUST STRESS DOWLOADED LIKE ALL MY FICS BC IDK WTF JUST HAPPENED LMFAOOOO WOW THAT WAS SO RUDE

I HAVE A BACKUP BUT NOW I'M AFRAID TO POST IT LIKE WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN TF

(4:59) I figured out how I'm doing this LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOO

alright I'm not doing it all at once though bc if I get flagged on here I'm gonna start TWEAKINGGG

but it's happening LMAO

6:27 there is now a Tumblr account with everything I have written so far for the month of august. One of the posts is literally the size of 45 pages worth of google docs. HERE YALL GO.

anyways I'm going back to being insane and rereading genesis goodbye

[moon-spirit-yue]

Fought for Me

Chapter 8: The Best of Romances Deserve Second Chances

(Hey hey! Okay so I gotta be honest, this fic will not focus a whole lot on the reunification of Kumandra. I'm probably gonna make another fic on it, but this is not the one. This fic is purely for drama purposes. Omegaverse definitely isn't everyone's cup of tea so I'm just not focusing on the logistics. This fic (and all others) can be found on ao3! I'll also just post the ao3 link right after this for those who prefer it. The link to previous chapters will be on the ao3 link as well. Anywho, please enjoy!)

Raya began pacing the boat for what was probably the fiftieth time since everyone officially hopped on board. Boun had already dropped himself, Noi, and Tong off to their families. Namaari and Sisu decided to stay with Raya and go the full journey with her back to Heart. Her dragon friend is currently fast asleep without a care in the world.

"You're going to put a hole in that wood if you keep this up," Namaari reminded her.

"I'll put a hole through you, binturi," Raya quickly responded without any of the venom she usually possessed.

"I already got that covered," Namaari said while pointing to the, well, hole in her leg.

"You're right, I'm sorry, I'm very mean when I'm nervous," Raya sighed.

"Look, I get why you're nervous. You haven't seen your father in years, that'd be terrifying for anyone. But he loves you. The whole reason why he wanted to reunite us all was for you," Namaari reminded her.

"Well yeah, but the last time he saw me I was twelve. Now, I have a kid at age eighteen with a very nonexistent partner," Raya groaned.

Okay, technically the partner does exist. However, the partner is still unaware they're the partner so it doesn't really count.

"I'm sure that none of that is going to matter to him once he knows you're okay," Namaari assured her with a light squeeze on her should.

Raya was ashamed to admit to herslef that she missed the warmth of Namaari's hand once she let go. Maybe she'll just chalk it up to the fact that Raya is till soaking wet from her dive with Sisu and any warmth is greatly appreciated.

"You're probably right. I need to calm down," the heart woman sighed while anxiously fiddling with her wet hair.

"Of course I'm right. It happens much more often thank you think," Namaari told her with a grin.

"Don't get cocky, Undercut. You've only just started getting back in my good graces," Raya playfully warned.

"So I already landed a spot huh? And all I had to do was get shot. A small price to pay," Namaari laughed.

Raya resisted the blush crawling onto her face as much as possible and laughed along with the other woman.

"Just at a curiosity, who's with your alleged daughter since you're obviously not?" Namaari asked.

"The hell are you talking about 'alleged'? My daughter is completely real," Raya huffed.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Namaari smugly told her.

"Seriously? Of all the things I'd lie about, that's the one you're going for?" Raya scoffed.

"Hey, until I see the baby, she doesn't exist," Namaari said as if that makes perfect sense. "So who on Earth is with nonexistent baby?"

"Charanya is with very real baby," Raya said with the roll of her eyes.

"Wait, Charanya? Heart girl with long black hair always in a braid, permanent frown, hangs around Tien and is obviously into her?" Namaari asked.

"Huh. So you two have met. Yeah, that's her. We grew up together and we've been sticking by each other all throughout the Druun," Raya explained.

"Huh. Well, the two of us haven't really met. At least not formally. I just see her with Tien quite a bit but she's pretty antisocial. Given the fact that she's from Heart I never really questioned why. Wow. Who knew that the one person that may have actually helped me find you, a thief, was cozying up to my best friend," Namaari said.

"Well if it's any consolation, Charanya hardly knew exactly where I was. The best she'd be able to give you is which land I was in," Raya shrugged.

"That still would have been more information than anyone else could gather. You were very good at covering your tracks," Namaari told her.

At this, Raya smiled.

"So what I'm hearing is, I'm better than you in every way?" Raya asked, absolutely beaming.

"Okay, how is what I said even alluding to the message you got?" Namaari asked with a raised eyebrow.

God, it's so easy to mess with her. Charanya's going to have a field day once she figures that out.

"Well clearly you saying that I'm good at hiding means that you suck at searching. And if you suck at something as simple as searching then you probably suck at everything else," Raya said to elaborate on her personal thought process.

"You certainly jumped to a lot of conclusions there, Raya," Namaari drawled.

"I did jump off a cliff, it's part of who I am," the Heart woman responded easily.

"In heat, too. Seriously, how did you think that was a good idea?" Namaari asked with a frown.

"How did you think it was a good idea to fight me one on one when I was completely surrounded?" Raya shot back.

"I see you won't be letting that go any time soon."

"No, I don't think I will. And be warned, I tell Charanya everything. Prepare yourself because she's not going to let anything go either," Raya laughed.

"Just out of, you know, morbid curiosity, is Charanya your daughter's, um, other parent?" Namaari asked rather awkwardly.

The question made Raya laugh. As if! Even if it weren't genetically impossible, the concept of Raya having a romantic relationship with Charanya is utterly insane.

"Absolutely not. Besides, she-" Raya was cut off by the boat lurching. And boy, did it lurch hard.

Raya's body fell on the steering wheel, Namaari was thrown completely on her side, and Sisu woke up incredibly frazzled due to the movement.

"I SWEAR IT WASN'T MY FAULT-" Sisu yelled in a frenzy before realizing she was just dreaming.

"Huh. She wakes up guilty. That explains so much," Raya grumbled.

"Whuz happnin?" Sisu hastily rushed out.

"A nasty wave hit us. The boat's fine, but I personally would love to be sitting on a chair again," Namaari sighed.

Raya took that as her cue to help a pal out. She picked her own body off from the floor and went to Namaari's aid. The omega tried very hard to ignore the intoxicating scent of the alpha woman but in this proximity it was rather difficult.

Don't breathe her scent in like a creep don't breathe her scent in like a creep don-

"Thanks, Raya," Namaari said once she was upright on her chair once more.

"No problem," Raya smiled.

Oh there's a problem alright. The problem is that now that Namaari isn't an awful binturi it's so much easier to see all her good qualities. This included both mental and physical qualities. Why did the stupid alpha have to be stupidly attractive in her stupid white outfit? Life is so unfair.

Just steer the boat Raya. Steer until you get home with your father- oh damn the panic is back.

"Everything is going to be fine, Raya," Namaari calmly told her.

Great, now she can sense Raya's mood shifts. She's not too sure how she feels about this newfound Namaari ability.

"Aww, are you nervous about seeing your old man again?" Sisu asked.

"With good reason, yes," the Heart woman frowned.

"Oh c'mon, you know he loves you! He sacrificed his life for you!" Sisu reminded her.

"At least someone's sensible on this boat," Namaari drawled.

Sisu is many things, but sensible is simply not on the list. When Raya decides to speak again, she pointedly ignores Namaari's remark.

"I haven't exactly been an angel these past few years," was all Raya said.

Even if she was going to exclude the whole being a teen mother with no alpha in sight, she was still sorta kinda a bad person through the whole six years with the Druun. She's lied, stolen, and gotten in some pretty nasty fights. She's really not sure what her father was capable of forgiving.

"I think you're worrying too much. He'll just be happy to see you," Sisu said with a dismissive flick of her claws.

"That's what I said!" Namaari exclaimed.

"Oooo, same brain! Finally, someone to agree with me when Raya's being crazy!" Sisu squealed excitedly.

"I don't appreciate this sudden uprising against me. Charanya would never treat me this way," Raya huffed.

"Who's Charanya? Oh, is she Aulia's elusive mystery parent?" Sisu asked curiously.

"I asked that too! It's like you're in my head," Namaari gasped excitedly.

Oh god, Namaari is geeking out over Sisu. This is annoyingly endearing. All Raya knows is that she must prevent those two from teaming up at all costs.

"No, Sisu. It's as I told Namaari, Charanya is not Aulia's parent. Aulia's other parent is not in the picture," Raya explained somberly.

Hopefully sounding that sad and pathetic would make them both drop the subject.

"If that's the case then I'm certain you're better off," Namaari assured her.

Poor, oblivious Namaari. She was likely under the impression that the mystery person just abandoned them.

Wow, she now feels incredibly guilty hiding the fact that Namaari's a mother. Granted, she should feel guilty about it, but it was a lot easier when Namaari was nothing more than a thorn in her side.

"Maybe. Oh, Namaari, while we're on the topic of Charanya, I just feel like I should warn you. When I say I tell her everything, I mean everything. Including you," Raya stated.

"Oh my god, she hates me," Namaari accurately concluded with a loud groan.

"Only a lot," Raya nodded.

"Since we're in the spirit of warning each other, Tien is not your biggest fan," Namaari told her.

"Yeah, I could guess that," Raya sighed.

Raya took a certain petty joy in pissing off the great land of Fang. Given the fact that Tien's part of Fang's army and is on track to being on of the land's generals, she doesn't really love how Raya has behaved these past few years.

Understandable, of course. Raya loved making the Fang warrior's lives just a little bit harder. Plus, she knows that the army has wasted time and resources trying to track her down. It makes complete sense that Tien probably wants to punch Raya in the face.

Plus, from what Raya's gathered, Tien is Namaari's closest friend. Naturally, Tien would be against anything that caused Namaari so much agitation.

"Okay, what exactly have you guys been saying about each other?" Sisu asked.

"The truth," Raya and Namaari said in unison.

The two women looked at each other before laughing. It would appear they had more in common than they originally thought.

"People humor is so weird," Sisu frowned.

Light conversation circled around the three of them until they got to Heart's dock. Raya has the sudden urge to vomit. She really hopes Ba still loves her after all this.

"Breathe, it's going to be fine," Namaari firmly told her.

"Right. Fine. Totally okay," Raya plainly stated.

"Yeah, so I can hear you saying it, but I'm not entirely convinced you mean it," Namaari told her.

"Sass me again and I'm stealing your crutch. Try walking after that," Raya scowled.

"Okay, don't do that," Sisu began. "Namaari, you can't reason with crazy. She's just going to have to head down and see for herself that her father actually loves her."

"Seriously Sisu? I bring you back to life and this is the thanks I get? You know what? I'm getting off the boat now. I'm sure you guys can strategize how to gang up against me more effectively once I'm out of earshot," Raya huffed as she determinedly marched off the boat.

"Yikes. Someone's paranoid," Sisu said once Raya was a good distance away.

"And mean. Wait, she didn't actually take my crutch right?" Namaari asked when she came to the realization that she could no longer see it.

"Oh nah, you're good," Sisu said. The crutch was, thankfully, hidden behind a barrel. Crisis averted.

Raya was in absolute awe of all the people roaming the land of Heart. On one hand, it kind of freaks her out being surrounded by so many people. On the other hand, it amazes her that so many of these people wear blue. Heart's color. Her people have returned.

The very proud Princess of Heart kept on walking until she reached the very bridge she was thrown off all those years ago. On this bridge she saw him exactly as he was back then. Outside the crutch and bandage around his leg, of course.

It was her father. Chief Benja of Heart is finally in the flesh. It felt like she couldn't move. She was in awe over seeing him walking, breathing like a human being. All he was doing was picking up a discarded flag the best he could with an injured leg. Yet this simple action left Raya in awe.

Benja caught onto her stares and looked up from the ground and made eye contact with her. He let out an audible gasp and dropped the flag he was holding.

"Dewdrop?" he whispered, tears already in his eyes.

Raya let the tears she didn't even realize she was forming fall across her cheeks and ran over to him. To his credit, Benja did immediately rush to his daughter, but Raya covered ground much quicker with two unharmed legs.

When they finally met in the most memorable hug of Raya's entire life, she actually started to sob because of how warm her father is.

She would touch her father's statue several times these past six years. It was never for long due to how cold it was. The chill gave her no comfort so she had resorted to speaking to it only.

The fact that she can hug him and be enveloped in warmth means everything to Raya.

"Oh, my baby, I love you so much. I just can't believe it's been six years," Her father sobbed as he held her tighter.

"I love you too Ba. I can't believe it either. I missed you while you were gone," Raya choked out.

"I'm sorry I left," he responded.

"The very good news is that Kumandra isn't as crazy as we all thought it was," Raya smiled.

She shifted so that she was hanging off his left arm and pointed to the mass waves of people entering the land.

"How the hell are we supposed to feed them? My cooks have been stone for six years!" Benja hissed in her ear causing Raya to laugh.

Always the most perfect host, even in dire situations.

"Don't worry about it," Raya smiled.

Through the waves of people she saw Boun, Noi, and Tong were all with their own families. They waved as they walked by. Namaari walked by with her mother and gave Raya an encouraging thumbs up. However, Raya feels very thumbs down right now.

Ah well, now's as good of a time as ever.

"Ba, I have something really important to tell. I haven't been the best person around these past six years. I've stolen, like, a lot of things. I've been in my fair share of fights-" Raya rambled.

"Raya, I can confidently say that I could not care less. I'm just happy you're alive. Whatever bad things you did, you did to survive. I would want you to do it all over again if it meant you would be okay. There’s nothing you can say or do that will make me love you any less. It doesn't matter at all to me," her father assured her.

Okay, well she started off easy. Raya is pretty relieved to know that those not so minor offenses don't bother him.

"I promise that what I'm about to say next will matter quite a bit to you," Raya sighed, feeling incredibly nervous. Might as well just say it to get it over with. "Ba, I ended up pregnant and having a child. At eighteen. Out of wedlock. And super single. Like, no alpha in sight. Okay I know it sounds bad but I swear I didn't plan it I was very vulnerable and-"

Her father's jaw dropped as she rambled. Raya was scared to give him a chance to speak, worried he would take everything back.

"I'm a grandfather?" Benjas asked, tears welling in his eyes once more.

"Yeah," was all Raya could say.

Her father wrapped her up in a tight hug once more and now Raya finally felt air in her lungs. He was actually okay with the fact that she has a child. It was like a weight was lifted off her shoulder.

"Well where is she? Or he? I have to meet my grandchild!" Benja exclaimed.

"She is with Charanya. Her name's Aulia. So you're really not upset at me for having her under these less than ideal circumstances?" Raya asked hopefully.

“Of course not! When I said it’s impossible to make me love you less, I meant it. I just wish I could have been there to support you,” her father sighed while squeezing her shoulders.

“That would have been nice,” Raya agreed while sniffling.

"Oh, Charanya! I've been trying to find her too, but I haven't had much luck. She must have grown so much," Benja sighed.

"Not really, that's the reason why you're having so much trouble finding her," Raya smirked.

Her father laughed at that and allowed Raya to guide him into the swarm of people entering Heart. It was one hell of sight seeing people from every nation mingling with each other after so many years.

Raya didn't really focus too much on those around her as she was trying to find Charanya and her kid. That did remind her that Charanya's mother and grandmother should have returned from stone so it's very likely they already reunited with her.

"Just look for Kim. She's the tall one. Hopefully they're all in one group," Raya told him.

Everywhere she turned, somebody was sobbing tears of joy after seeing their loved one alive once more. It was very heartwarming, but it was also very hard to find her own loved ones.

Then, she saw them all. Kim and Ai, Charanya's beloved grandmother and mother, were alive and well. And the girl that was practically leaning all her weight onto Ai was Charanya. And in Charanya's arms was Aulia. Her baby.

Raya tugged on her father's arm and pointed to the four standing right in front of them.

Kim was the first to notice them. A face of utter relief quickly came over Kim, likely very thankful that Raya and Benja were okay. Kim said something Raya was too far away to hear and pointed in their direction. Ai and Charanya both turned to make eye contact and before anyone knew it, the five adults of the group clamored together a giant hug.

"Oh, Raya, look at you! You look so much like your mother!" Ai smiled with tears in her eyes.

"I can't even believe how you've grown," Kim whispered, tears streaming down her face.

"Charanya, words can not describe how happy I am to see you," Benja grinned as he was crying along with everyone else in the group.

The five of them probably would have stayed in their little circle forever until Aulia squealed upon making eye contact with Raya. To her immense relief, Aulia reached out her cute little baby hands for Raya.

The Heart woman smiled as she held her baby in her arms, wiping away the tears so that her daughter wouldn't see. Raya had been so scared that her child would forget all about her in the months she was gone. Aulia smiled and rested her head on Raya's shoulder, letting her know her fears were completely unwarranted.

"So this is her? This is my granddaughter?" Benja asked in awe.

Charanya gave Raya a look, not entirely sure how much Raya's told him yet. Raya merely smiled and nodded.

"Yeah. Here she is. Hey Aulia, say hi to grandpa. Can you wave? Are we at that stage?" Raya asked giggling.

"No, she hasn't-" Charanya began.

She was cut off by Raya's genius baby waving at Benja. Charanya then gasped exicitedly.

"THAT WAS THE FIRST TIME SHE'S EVER WAVED!" Charanayed yelled hgappily.

"Don't even mess with me right now. Did I just witness a baby milestone?" Raya grinned.

"We all did," Ai laughed.

"Can I hold her?" Benja asked hopefully.

"I suppose I can let you two hang out," Raya agreed as she handed over her daughter to her father.

Admittedly, Raya didn't love the idea of letting go of her baby when she literally just got to see her again after what feels like eons, but she relented. Mainly because she desperately wanted Aulia and Benja to bond as soon as possible.

"Oh, hello young lady. It's me, your grandpa. Oh, you're so perfect. Yes you are. Just like your Ma," Benja cooed.

Aulia looked at Benja's facial hair in utter fascination and began rubbing her hands all over his face. Benja simply laughed and allowed the baby onslaught to continue.

Raya was thrilled the two were getting along so well. Then she felt Charanya tugging on her shirt.

"What's up?" Raya mumbled, realizing she would likely want discretion.

"We need to get changed. Now," Charanya bluntly stated.

Raya merely nodded. The shorter omega had that serious tone in her voice that meant something more was going on.

"Ba, Ma, Grandma, we need to change. Right now. I can't stand these clothes any longer," Raya said loudly to attract her family's attention.

"Me neither. I'm going to head up too," Charanya agreed.

Raya hadn't even noticed with all the happy feelings, but Charanya is also soaking wet. What, did she take a dip in the lake?

"Really? Do you need us to come with?" Ai asked worrieldy.

Raya and Charanya were adults. A fact Ai obviously knew. However, Raya did undertsand that she didn't want to be separated from them so soon.

"We'll be fine Ma. We're just going to the palace to take a quick bath. We'll be back so soon you won't even know we were gone," Charanya assured her.

"Alright. You girls be careful now. Don't lose each other," Ai reminded them.

"We're always careful, Ma," Charanya smiled as she kissed Ai's cheek.

The rather exhausted duo walked quietly through the sea of reuniting people. Once they were far enough away from their family, Charanya began to speak.

"There is a reason why I dragged you out outside of our wet clothes, obviously, but we need to wait for that until we're in private," Charanya explained.

"Well even I could have guessed that much," Raya huffed as she dragged Charanya along.

Raya and Charanya were both stopped on several occasions, greeting those who had been some of the first people to turn to stone. The palace was incredibly lively and they were already working on repairs to the castle.

Despite how nice it was connecting with her people again, Raya is itching to get out of these clothes and figure out what the hell Charanya wants to tell her.

"Wait, pause, where do you think we're getting spare clothes? All my things are still on Boun's boat," Raya inquired.

"Seriously? You came home and forgot to grab your shit?" Charnaya asked in a very judgmental manner.

"I'm sorry that the thought of my father disowning me when he found out I had a child out of wedlock distracted me from grabbing my belongings," Raya drawled.

"I suppose I can forgive you this time. And, well, one of the things I wanted to tell you is the fact that the boat we've been living is sorta kinda demolished," Charanya sighed.

There wasn't anyone around in the specific part of the castle, so they can express themselves more freely. Expressing herself to Raya meant a jaw dropped open,

"What, seriously?" Raya gasped, stopping her tracks.

This prompted Charanya to stop as well and confirm it. The place Raya experienced her teenage years in, where her daughter had been living, is gone. Rendered to pieces of wood on the bottom of the lake.

It was just a boat. It's not like either of them even had any claim to it. Even so, it was kind of heartbreaking that the place that held so many memories was now destroyed.

"Yeah. I'm honestly not sure what happened today, but Aulia was crying her damn eyes out for hours. She finally wore herself out when the sun rose so I took a nap as soon as she was down. I woke up because it felt like the boat was going through rocky waters, you know like waves you'd deal with at sea. Obviously, I knew something was wrong since, hello, we were in the middle of the lake. When I woke up, it was like bunch of water was being refilled in the lake so the movement made the boat start to capsize. I had to grab Aulia and abandon ship before we went down with it," Charanya explained.

"Okay, first things first, you're both okay right? Like, no water in the lungs or physical injuries? Was Aulia okay? She wasn't freaked out or upset, was she?" Raya frowned worriedly.

"We're both fine. I made sure her face never went under water or anything. Besides, you've met your daughter right? The little psycho loves water. The only time she started feeling upset was when we left the lake," Charanya said while rolling her eyes.

The eye roll didn't fool Raya, Charanya loves that kid more than she loves herself.

"That sounds like her. She's so fearless. She'll make an excellent chief one day," Raya smugly told her.

Oh shit. Aulia's going to be a chief one day. There's an actual land for her to run now. Raya has to raise a freaking chief. Suddenly, she's feeling a tad nauseous. Boy, is it getting hot in here?

"Sunshine? You okay?" Charanya asked with furrowed brows.

"Just the reality of everything starting to hit me. It never even crossed my mind that she'd have people to lead one day. Not realistically, at least," Raya sighed.

Charanya put both hands on Raya's shoulders and squeezed tightly. The shorter woman opened her mouth, probably to try and comfort Raya, but instead she just let out a big yawn. The duo stared at each other for a moment before breaking out into quiet giggles.

"Alright, let's go bathe before you fall asleep standing up. I think some of Ba's clothes are untouched, we can just take his," Raya informed her.

"Oh, I totally forgot about that! There's just something extra cozy about taking other people's clothing," Charanya nodded.

"I know right? Now let me tell you exactly why our boat capsized," Raya began.

She divulged into the full story of her adventures from getting the scroll to finding Sisu and managing to acquire all the gem pieces. Charanya interrupted her with questions dozens of times before they made it to Ba's room.

It looked exactly how Raya remembered it. Neither girl wanted to come back here when the Druun were roaming the Earth. The obvious reason was the fact that they had very little desire to get turned to stone. The other reason was that they couldn't stand to see the statues that were once people. Heart's palace with being utterly deserted was too much for them to bare.

Both girls rummaged through the closet to pick out their favorite Ba sized clothes. Once they grabbed what they liked, they rushed to the nearest bathroom and prayed everything would still work despite the fact that it's been years since it was used.

This specific bathroom had two tubs that were parallel of each other. To Raya and Charanya's relief, both bath tubs immediately started to run the second they turned the faucets on. With their backs turned, both women began to take off the very wet clothes they wore.

"You good over there?" Raya asked since she was fully submerged in the tub. The only thing Charanya would be able to see would be her head.

"Yeah, all set," the other omega confirmed.

Raya turned around to face Charanya. Her head was poking out above the water and she had already began to wash her hair.

"Okay, you and I need to get our stories straight," Charanya told her once she finished scrubbing her head.

"Kindly elaborate," Raya said.

Raya began to follow in Charanya's footsteps and began to wash her hair. It's been too long since she's been able to properly clean like this. Because no, spontaneous dives in random bodies of water do not count.

"What are we lying to our parents about? What are telling them? What half truths are we putting out? Especially when it comes to our girl that's slowly gaining adoring fans," Charanya explained.

She made a good point. Some things really shouldn't be said.

"We'll start with you since you have way less to hide," Raya nodded.

"Kay. Uh, I did already tell ma and grandma about the whole 'hiding out in the brothel' thing. They didn't care. The fact that I wasn't actually a sex worker probably helped. I don't care if you tell Ba about that, either. I haven't mentioned either of my heat partners, but honestly I think it's fine if that's brought up too. No one's exactly in a place to judge there," Charanya snorted.

Raya supposed it’d have to come out at some point. Charanya's heats were too painful and Raya's were long enough to the point where she legitimately exhausted. In the event they can't get their hands on the drugs that suppress the symptoms, they have no choice but to spend it with someone else.

Neither girls particularly enjoy talking about the heat partners they had for obvious reasons. Granted, it’s not necessarily something to be ashamed of as plenty of omegas and alphas have a difficult time going through a heat or rut solo at this age. Still, who the hell wants to announce this kind of stuff.

"Right. It was that one girl from Talon and the Fang girl when Aulia was born, right?" Raya asked. God, the days blurred together.

"Oh fun fact, I didn't actually sleep with the Fang girl, I just dreamt I did. It was super realistic. She just used her scent to soothe me to sleep, which does explain why I don't remember any pain. It's just the Talon girl. Your only other heat partner besides you know who was the girl from Spine, right?" Charanya questioned. Apparently her days blurred together too.

"Correct. Anything else you want to cover up?" Raya asked.

"Please, do not tell them about my whole thing with Tien. They're going to be nosy and I'm going to have a psychotic break. Also," Charanya hesitated a bit before continuing. "Don't mention my uh, heat before the last."

Raya sighed and pursed her lips. That particular heat was the exact reason why partners or drugs were necessary.

"Fine, but I really think you should tell them eventually," Raya conceded.

"I will. But just, later on once we're all more adjusted. That's about all I could need to cover up. Your turn," Charanya agreed.

"Okay. No need to mention the heat I spent with, uh, that girl. I'll probably mention the Spine girl later though. Obviously, Aulia's parentage is off the table. Ba knows I've done bad stuff, but he doesn't have specifics. As long as you're not recounting specific stories, it should be fine. I'm pretty sure that's it," Raya concluded.

"Good," Charanya yawned.

Raya was about to relax but immediately jolted forwards. There was one minor detail that Charanya really needs to know.

"Wait, I lied. Okay, so I told everyone that Aulia's a year old so that it doesn't align when that specific woman and I were together. There’s no way a one year old could be hers,” Raya explained like the genius she is.

“Strategic. I like it,” Charanya stated with a nod of approval.

Then a thought popped up in Raya's head. It was an insane thought, but who better to hear an insane thought than Charanya, who could easily be the chief of insane?

"Do you think I should tell Aulia's other mother about her?" Raya asked.

Charanya, who previously looked like she was on the verge of falling asleep, was now wide awake. She then gave Raya a look as if she grew at least seven new heads.

"That's a terrible idea!" Charanya hissed.

Wow. Okay. The Heart princess was not expecting such a severely negative reaction.

Charanya groaned and put pressure on her temples. A very tell tale sign that she's trying not to freak out.

"I'm sorry, that was extreme, but I stand by the general message. I mean, Kumandra is just starting. I hate thinking about Aulia as some political tool, but we can't ignore the fact that she's your daughter. Heir to the Heart throne,” Charanya huffed. “My point is, she’s also that girl’s daughter. Another heir to another throne. This needs to be handled delicately."

"Fuck me, I didn't think about the politics involved. This completely sucks," Raya groaned.

Maybe she should just drown herself in the tub and get it over with.

“And I’m sorry, I get that she’s supposedly reformed and all, but you really don't know her that well. What if she gets all pissed and tries taking Aulia away from us? She is an alpha, Raya. Many would say the she'd have every right to. Plus, even if you trust mother number two enough, what about Aulia's grandmother? What do you think she will do to retaliate?" Charanya reminded her.

Yeah, so Raya didn't think about that either. She is so screwed. She is so very screwed. Maybe Namaari doesn't have to know she has a kid! Maybe Raya can pretend like she magically came to be with child! Like one day it just happened! No sex necessary! That can be possible, right?

"Is it too late to change our names and run away? There's a cozy little village in Talon that'd suit us and our parents very well," Raya winced.

"I am not opposed," Charanya sighed. After a couple minutes of silence, she spoke up again. "You really think Namaari can be trusted?"

Raya paused for a moment so that she could think about she was going to say.

"Yeah, I do. She changed, from when we were kids. I told you, she saved my life more than once. The reason why she's hobbling around on crutches was from saving me. We established a peaceful meeting and she held up her end of the bargain, some Fang warriors followed. It wasn't her fault and she did do the right thing," Raya decided. "So I think she can be trusted."

Charanya gave her a very long stare before nodding and going back to scrubbing her hair.

"Alright. I'll accept that answer for now. I still don't like her," Charanya stated childishly.

Raya scoffed and rolled her eyes. Heaven forbid Charanya actually cooperate.

"Fine. That means I don't have to like Tien," Raya shot back.

Honestly, Raya really doesn't like her. The more she thinks about the whole situation between the two, the more irritated Raya gets. The woman's been stringing her childhood friend around for a solid two years. Maybe she's just overprotective, but Tien needs to grow a damn spine and be more direct or just back off so that Charanya can move on. The weird back and forth thing is only going to hurt her friend the longer it goes on.

"Deal," Charanya sighed. "And I hope you know I'm not saying you should hide the truth forever about Aulia's parentage. They both have a right to know. Hell, they might figure it out anyway if Aulia ends up looking too much like her. But I really don't think now's the time."

"You're totally right. Besides, I really don't know how much more I can take today," Raya sighed as she finished getting all of the grime out of her hair.

"You're telling me," Charanya snorted.

At that point there wasn't much washing left to do, so they emerged from the tubs and began to dress in clothes much too big for either of them.

"Braid my hair for me would ya?" Charanya asked now that they were both fully clothed.

Raya nodded and obliged. She was an excellent braider. If braiding was a profession and Raya wasn't set to be Chief of Heart, she could easily have gotten that job.

"Now that the serious stuff is sorted out, let's go!" Charanya grinned as she eagerly tugged Raya's arm.

"Slow down tiger, where's this energy coming from?" Raya laughed.

"Isn't it obvious? I have a ma again," Charanya beamed.

That was all the explanation Raya needed. The two took off and weaved through the crowd of people in order to find their family.

Boy did they find their family alright.

Conversing with Namaari and Tien's family. Sweet hell neither of them got a break. The two gave each other a look before putting on their brave faces and entering the chaos.

For the love of everything, please let this be a normal interaction.

"Oh good, you girls are-" Benja paused and gave them a full once over. "Are you two wearing my clothes?"

"Whaaaaaaaaaaat?" Raya and Charanya asked at the same time, really dragging out the the 'a' sound.

"We would never do such a thing," Charanya lied.

"How dare you accuse us, Father. I gave you a grandchild. Be more grateful please," Raya huffed.

Benja rolled his eyes but didn't press the issue because he genuinely didn't care. Both girls stole his clothes all the time growing up. Plus, Raya could see the small smile on his face when he noticed. He looked at Aulia cozying up to him in his arms and smiled brightly.

"Are you going to steal my clothes when you get older too? Are you going to be a thief like your Ma?" her ba cooed at Aulia.

"I resent that statement," Raya frowned.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Charanya and Tien begin their own conversation on the side with their families. Raya hadn't even realized Virana and Namaari had been speaking until her father nudged her.

"Huh?" Raya asked dumbly.

"I asked if you were okay. You zoned out for a moment," Namaari informed her.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's been a long day," Raya admitted sheepishly.

"Indeed it has been," Viranan agreed.

Now Raya ahd to be honest with herself, she wasn't ecstatic about being so close to Virana after the previous events. So, Raya merely nodded and moved on.

"Hey Ba, I can hold her now so," Raya started, only for her father to pout.

So that's where Raya gets it from. Of course.

"Do I have to? Can't I have five more minutes?" her father asked.

"You realize she's not a toy, right?" Raya snorted.

"I know, but she's been around for a whole year and I haven't been able to hang out with her until now! Bonding is important," Benja firmly stated.

"Sure Ba, you can keep on holding her," Raya laughed.

The conversation had quickly become all about the baby. Benja and Virana ended up getting wrapped up in sharing their own experiences with raising their children.

"I say we spare both of ourselves the embarrassment and walk away now," Raya told Namaari.

"I literally could not agree more," Namaari nodded.

The two sped walk to a distance where they couldn't hear their parents, but they were still in their line of sight.

"I can not believe you actually thought your father would be upset. It's been what, twenty minutes since they met? She's got him wrapped around her finger," Namaari laughed.

"Admittedly, my fears were unwarranted," Raya shrugged.

This means Namaari was right. Ugh. Now that was a hard pill to swallow.

"You can admit you were totally wrong whenever you're ready, Raya. I'll be here for awhile," Namaari smirked.

What a fucking binturi.

"Bite me," Raya drawled.

Namaari opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted with Charanya dragging Tien over.

"Oh Tien, you know that friend I'm always telling you about? Well this is she! Meet Raya," Charanya said with a bright smile.

Raya waved. She opened her mouth to make some form of an introduction, but Tien beat her to it.

"Okay, pause. The friend you've been talking about all this time is Raya? Princess Raya of Heart? As in, the girl I have been trying to hunt down for months? That same Raya?" Tien asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You're a quick study," Charanya confirmed.

"And you didn't think this is something I should know about?" Tien asked with irritation in her voice.

"Well I'm not a snitch, Tien," Charanya said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Raya had to physically bite her own lip to keep herself from smiling. At least Charanya would always have her back.

"We will be circling back to this later. It's nice to meet you under better circumstances, Princess Raya," Tien said as she bowed and made the gem symbol.

"There's no need for the formalities. Raya is perfectly fine," the omega smile politely.

Ugh, she can't believe she has to act polite now. Civilization sucks.

"Sure, Raya," Tien nodded politely.

At least it was obvious Tien didn't like being polite either. Raya wasn't expecting her to, if she was going to be honest. Alas, both Charanya and Namaari were important people in Raya and Tien's life, so coexisting would just have to do. And given the looks Charanya and Namaari were giving each other, they felt the same way.

"Well, in the spirit of introductions, Charanya, meet Namaari. Namaari, this is Charanya," Raya smiled.

Hopefully this would distract her from the annoyance Tien's presence gives her.

"It's a pleasure to officially meet you. You don't have to use my official title, it's odd hearing from peers," Namaari said while forming the gem symbol.

"Got it. Nice to meet you as well," Charanya said as she too formed the gem symbol.

However, Charanya was eyeing Namaari up and down in the most judgmental way possible. While it was hilarious, Raya didn't want to mediate. Time to say something that can make even the most vicious warriors calm down.

"So. I say we all grab a bite to eat. Who's with me?" Raya asked.

The other three were very quick to agree. The chefs had been hopping onto the cooking since the early morning so there was plenty of delicious food for them to eat.

In no time at all, the four of them were eating on a little blanket while their parents sat at table a few feet away from them. Raya finally got the chance to get her baby back from her father so now Aulia is sitting on Raya's lap as she eats.

However, Aulia got bored and crawled out of her mother's lap and gravitated to Namaari. Immediately, the alpha's face beamed when she noticed Aulia was moving to greet her.

"Oh hello, sweetheart. Look at you, moving so fast. You must get that from your Ma," Namaari cooed.

Deciding that she quite enjoyed the compliments she was receiving, Aulia crawled right onto Namaari's lap. Namaari didn't mind at all but seemed a tad unsure of what to do.

"You can hold her, you know. She doesn't- wait, no. She does bite. She is a biter," Raya told her.

Namaari clearly didn't mind the biting warning and scooped Aulia up to hold her in her arms. Raya was very amused to see Namaari respond to Aulia's mindless babbles as if it was an intelligent conversation.

Kind makes Raya wonder what life would have been like if-

Nope. Not going there.

"Hey, she's a year old right?" Namaari asked out of the blue.

"Yeah, her first birthday passed a few days ago," Charanya falsely confirmed.

"Huh," Namaari hummed.

"Well what's that supposed to mean?" Charanya asked with agitation in her voice.

And now Ranya's starting shit. That is so typical of her. Raya wondered if Tien was going to step in, but she was like Raya. Very amused and wants to see how this plays out.

"I didn't mean anything by it. It's just she's a tad small for a one year old," Namaari easily replied.

"Well I've been the only one feeding her. Are you trying to suggest I've been malnourishing my god daughter?" Charanya frowned with narrowed eyes.

Raya mentally willed Namaari to look at her so that she could shake her head. Charanya is completely, without a doubt, baiting Namaari. If Charanya finds out just how easy it is to mess with Namaari, the Fang alpha will never know peace.

Unfortunately, true to her character, Namaari took the rather obvious bait.

"No, of course not! What I mean to say is-" Namaari rambled out before getting cut off by Charanya's laughter.

"Relax, I was messing with you! Who would have guessed the Princess of Fang would be so easy?" Charanya giggled.

"I tried warning you," Raya shrugged when Namaari gave her a hopeless look.

"In what way? Inquiring minds want to know," Namaari scoffed.

"In my mind, duh," Raya stated.

"I see why you two have remained friends for so long," Tien said while looking between Raya and Charanya.

"Don't be crabby just because you don't understand how cool we are," Charanya smirked.

"Don't even start-"

******************************

The four girls had a surprisingly pleasant evening despite the obvious animosities certain people held for other certain people. Even if the evening was pleasant, Raya was still beyond relieved to get to bed.

Charanya and her family were staying in one of the guest rooms of the Heart palace due to the fact that their original home was destroyed by the Druun years ago. Charanya attempted to protest but all Raya had to say was that Aulia would miss her and suddenly she had no arguments.

Raya's got a long life of using her daughter to get her way. It sounds awful, but it's for the good of the world.

Besides, Raya knew for a fact Charanya was comfortable. She walked by the room they were all staying in and Charanya was curled up against her mother. She was dead asleep and purring her little heart out. Raya can not remember the last time she heard Charanya purr before this. It was too long given how a purring omega is a happy one. Raya made sure to close the door before she wondered to her own room.

Well, her father's room. As of right now, same difference.

Raya had Aulia's crib set up in her father's room where she would also be sleeping. Though neither Raya nor her father really discussed it out loud, being too far away from each other right now was simply not an option.

Aulia passed out almost immediately when she got into her crib, which is a blessing in it's own right. She must have been exhausted from the very exciting day she had.

Raya hopped into bed and saw her father walk in only a few moments later.

"Damn, I thought beat you here," Benja huffed.

"I'm too fast for you old man, admit it," Raya giggled.

"Whatever. Scoot over," he huffed.

Once Benja was settled, Raya rested her head on his should and closed her eyes. She made sure to be cautious of his bad leg when adjusting herself to be more comfortable.

"Hey Dewdrop?" her father whispered.

"Wassup?" Raya mumbled, already feeling sleep tug at her.

"I realize that the situation with Aulia's other parent is delicate and you don't want to talk about so I'm only going to ask one question and I will drop it forever until you're ready to tell me. Is the parent still alive?" Benja asked.

"Yeah. Still alive," Raya tiredly confirmed.

She can't see the harm in answering that question.

"Why do you ask Ba?" Raya yawned.

"Because I wanted to know if there was hope for the chance to beat their ass for hurting my little girl," Benja stated.

Ah. She should have known.

"Seriously? For the record, I could totally beat them up myself."

She'd know. She's done it many tines before.

"Well obviously, but it's my right as an alpha father to beat everyone up that makes you upset."

"Would you like a list?"

"Yes."

"I was kidding, Ba."

"I wasn't."

"Goodnight, Ba."

"Goodnight, Raya."

[ashyronfire]

White & Gray || Prologue - We'll Be Lost Before The Dawn

Title: Prologue - We'll Be Lost Before The Dawn Rating: M Characters: The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel (x2), Hornet, The Pale King, Herrah (+ more, tbh) Warnings: Introspect-Heavy, Found Family, THK is Not Nice, Angst/Depression, PTSD-based dissociation at times, Trauma Bonding, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Self-Harm, Suicide/Suicidal Ideology, Off-Screen Suicide, Post-Dream No More Ending

Summary:

In defiance of death. In defiance of light. In defiance of space. In defiance of time. Void: potential without limit. To recreate. To undo the mistakes of the past. To alter the course of history. To rewrite the past, there is no cost too great. Tell me you will live through this and I will die for you. Through trick of void or twist of fate, the Hollow Knight is sent back to the beginning, to a time when Hallownest had yet to fall. To save themselves. To change their own destiny. And perhaps to grant Hallownest a kinder fate as well...

Author's Note: Hi! This fic was my big project and is my pride and joy. It's coming close to a year old. When I first released W&G, I didn't have a Tumblr - so only 2/3s of the chapters got linked here. I was also too shy to crosspost it here properly. After AO3 being DDoSed recently, and with this fic's one year anniversary coming up, I decided to be brave and start posting it once a week here for those who want to read but don't particularly feel like going to AO3 for whatever reason.

That being said, this fic is finished. The entirety of it can be read on Ao3 as-is (if you'd rather binge), or you can read it here with its weekly updates. You can also find the fanart that it has received under this blog's tag of w&g. The tag w&g fanfic will be for the actual fic.

(Also, sorry to people who read it who may not want this fic on your dash. Promise I'm not gonna spam. <3)

Prologue ||

Needlepoints of ivory lit up a place light dared not venture. They came in pairs: one, two, three, four, and then the numbers increased so rapidly that it was impossible to keep count. No two were exactly alike in shape, and yet they were so alike that the average viewer would be unable to tell them apart. An amalgamation of shadow woven into form not-fully-solid and never meant to be, they were silent. Their screams needed no sound to resonate from the furthest reaches of creation to a world they were never meant to tread.

They came.

They came to the one with ashen form. With bone. To the solid one who dared to ascend to the heavens. Who climbed higher and higher, whose shadow was at once darker than theirs and more tangible. 

They rose from their darkness, from the place forgotten by time and all who came before. There was no call. There needn’t be one. There were no words, for there was no use for those, either.

They came for the blinding light filling the morning, painting the sky golden, yellow, orange. 

Higher. Higher.

They were hungry . They hungered for her.

She screamed. The sound was deafening; it was rage given voice and it echoed throughout all of creation, as far as the light touched – but the light did not touch everything, and that scream of rage could not pierce the darkness rising up from beneath the world, into a realm that it had never touched. The void did not dream. The void simply existed: kindness and cruelty, malice and delight, the great vacuum. Without hopes and aspirations, it could not enter to her world, and at its basest form, the void had none of these things.

But one had given it something . One had given it purpose: single-minded devotion to duty, to instruction. Seal the blinding light that plagues their dreams.

The one with form climbed. They followed. The great black wave stained all that it touched as it cascaded, rolling along the mountain’s edge to follow like a beacon. She flew higher into the sky, to escape the rising of that dark tide. She could not get higher enough. There was no height it could not ascend; that they could not guide it.

Great tendrils of darkness shot out, gripped and pulled. She screamed again and tore herself free. 

More eyes lifted. Watching, impassive. She was terrified. It did not care. She was screaming for escape. It felt nothing at all.

The tidal wave could not be stopped once it had begun, and it began long ago: the moment that another creature entered that vast emptiness and left something alive within. The earthquake took the form of an egg filled with the essence of wyrm and root, the eye of the storm.

The one given form followed. It gave chase and the great sea wove the path it tread. Up, higher and higher. 

Great tendrils shot out, then, and wrapped around her. One broke off from the mass, a pair of eyes lit up by lightning scar hued in gold. It grabbed her by the face, held her face and pulled her into its claws. It felt. The sea did not; the sea was impassive. It was not . It was angry. It was scared. It was filled with a terrible determination. She screamed and this time it was personal: aimed at that one, that shadow that held her fast in its claws with no intent of letting go. Or perhaps the scream was at the one before her.

The sound of shell breaking was sickening; cracks like bone, discarded, forgotten. The one with form became formless, and yet it did not dissolve into the sea, into the rest of them. The void answered its command as it launched an assault at the weakness exposed by the other one. The slashes were rapid, vicious, soundless, and yet somehow they drowned out her defiant, desperate pleas - not words, more feral, more animalistic. The last shriek of an era dying, before being whisked away into sweet, unending silence.

Her light exploded around it and then the tidal wave broke. 

All that remained was the dark. 

And words.

Words in a voice it heard once, so long ago. They were faint, and yet they resonated just the same. One among the mass was pained. One among the mass hurt to hear them. A memory, then, a place so long ago.

Yours is the power opposed. 

But yours is potential, eternity potential, force that could defy Time.

Would the one without form simply cease to be? Its task was done. It could rest. 

The void did not know conflict of emotions. The void did not know emotions at all. And yet one among it knew conflict: one among it knew emotions. One in the mass knew pain, regret, sorrow, anger, hatred, betrayal. One in the mass knew love , that terrible ruin that spelled its own undoing. Those words evoked that feeling, strange and uncomfortable, and what one felt, all felt: a pain without cease and a lack of understanding. A question, then, churning within the storm. 

It saw her, a figure in scarlet cut from the same cloth as the one with form. It receded, but it saw her walk to the broken, discarded shell and look at it, and that question grew louder still.

Yours is potential, eternity potential, force that could defy Time.

Defy time.

Defy time.

W h y. 

Hornet.

That was her name. 

The void did not feel. The void had no need of names; of identities; of personalities. The void was one great mass, as simple as the sea, perhaps at times turbulent but never feeling. Impassive, eroding and changing, shaping the world in its wake and unstoppable, manipulated by the tides of others but never deliberate in its actions.

It knew her, though, for the one given form had known her, and the one who knew pain knew her. 

It knew her.

“Thank you, little ghost,” she said, and it heard her as the waves receded. It heard her and it was filled with a great terrible sensation: emotions unwelcome in the vacuum of its being.

There was regret. There was sorrow. There was confusion. There was a wish.

Defy time. 

W h y.

Afloat; one of them was afloat, separate. No, not one. Two. Two were afloat. The others had been absorbed back into it, from whence they came, to sleep as they had before the disruption, their great duty fulfilled. But two were adrift in their sea together. The one with form. The one who knew pain, who knew fear. It was that fear that kept it from rejoining the waves: that fear and an overwhelming sense of regret. 

Why. Why. Why. Why.

It could be undone. The one with form knew this to be fact. All could be unwritten. It was limitless potential. It needed only gentle guidance. It could be undone. It could retain its form. The one who knew fear could get an answer to the burning question. Would it change destiny? Was that truly its wish? There were some questions to which the answer would only hurt.

It knew pain intimately. It did not know answers.

But it could be given them, for the void was unlimited potential: a force that could defy even time itself, should it will it. It did not understand the fixation. It did not understand why it mattered. Those who had spoken those cursed words were long gone. Those who had woken it from its slumber were long gone. Its mission, its objective, was fulfilled. The sea was able to return to its banks and be undisturbed once more. It had accomplished what it set out to do. Yet the two remained among a whole, unique, distinct: individual, where individuals were not meant to be.

The sea gave a violent shudder. The air was thick with darkness. It crept from that cursed prison, receding through the cracks in ground, through the space between where nothing lived and nothing died, through to a place where everything and nothing was one.

Back to where it came from.

Defy time. 

Defy time.

Why. Why. Why?

Did it truly matter so much? Was it truly that important, that it could not return to peace without knowing? 

Then it would know.

Void tendrils stirred. Shining white eyes lifted, meeting a pair so like its own, and yet so different. Two individuals in a blanket of the same: two distinct, where none should be. There would be more pain this route, but it was accustomed to pain, it knew pain like a lover, and it was not afraid anymore. In doing this, it would forever change things. It would change the existence of the whole. The one given form might not exist. The one who knew pain might not exist. It needed to know. It needed an answer. It could not rest. 

Then it would know. 

Defy time.

What form it took would be up to it. The shells were all broken. There was not one to contain it. There would be complications. None would understand. It still wished it. The hands of time were in fluctuation. It was intimately acquainted with fear, yet it knew fear all over again: the unknown was a variable it had not entirely accounted for, but it would not undo it.

The void sea rose in waves. Those white eyes of its sibling, form and unity, met its own. It watched, impassive. The instruction was unspoken and yet implicitly understood: this would change everything. There would be no third chance. There would be no unraveling the threads of fate from here. Was this still its wish, knowing that there would be no coming back? That it would never see the fruits of its labors? That even if it got its answers, even if it succeeded, it may never actually know what came to pass? Unwritten. Let it be unwritten, then. Let it start anew. 

The cost would be great.

It was afraid. It had walked into fear before. 

Defy time.

Remember us. 

The one with form tilted its head very slowly. Watched, with those same strange eyes. There was a tension in the air then, as the waves churned into a maelstrom. The same tendrils that had pulled her down to her ruin wove around it but unlike her, it did not struggle. It embraced the darkness and all that it offered. Limitless potential. Defiance of time.

To start again. To rewind the fabric of reality. 

To find out.