#the forgotten spaces ch 5

[oddinary4bts]

The Forgotten Spaces | ch 5 (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: a cancer joke about eating a burned marshmallow, mentions about Jungkook's injury/scars, alcohol, curses, a hot tub, a game of Truth or Dare; explicit content: hickeys, grinding, fingering, jerking off, big dick!Jungkook, unprotected sex (please don't be stupid), choking; angst

☆word count: 15.7k (oop)

☆series masterpost here

☆a/n: SMUT IS HERE EVERYONE. I hope you enjoy reading this one!! Thank you to @moonleeai for her beta reading on this fic, I won't ever thank you enough, you're the best <3

☆Read What Was Hidden here, the fic that inspired this whole story, written by @daechwitatamic, one of my fav human beings on this app <3 It follows the story of Jo and Taehyung before The Forgotten Spaces

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, July 6th

                It’s a strange thing, how when you’ve been working on something for months, the concretisation of it passes so quickly it’s like it never happened. The auditions were like that: you barely remember yesterday. All you remember is the moment you stepped out of the scene, breath ragged, and Jungkook high-fived the whole crew.

You don’t remember listening to the results. You remember the bubbling excitement as the name of the crew wasn’t said until the very last. But you don’t remember hearing the mention you got. The highest of every crew that auditioned from your state.

Because auditions for nationals are also a competition in and of itself. An innerstate competition, and you still can’t believe you got the highest mention of your level. It’s like a dream, and everything has been moving too slow, or too fast, for you to interpret.

Yesterday was a fever dream indeed. And the whole crew knows that it’s thanks to Jungkook. He refuses every congratulation you’ve all offered him, but it’s him. You wouldn’t have gotten the diamond mention without him.

Diamond… a perfect score. You landed a perfect score on your auditions to nationals.

You will get ripped up to pieces at nationals, won’t you? It makes you anxious, but then again, you’re not sure if it’s because you will have to perform at the top of your art in a few months, or because you’re sitting between Jungkook and Heather on the backseat of Hobi’s car.

Probably the latter.

You’re lucky. You were able to rent a cottage an hour and a half outside of the city, next to a small artificial lake. It was previously rented by another group, but they cancelled a few days ago, which let you have the cottage for the whole weekend.

But you don’t think you’re lucky to be sitting between Jungkook and Heather. Though both of them have been dozing off for a while.

  You’ve just been clutching your phone for dear life, because Jungkook’s head lolled to the side until he found your shoulder to be a pillow. It’s not that you mind it. You mostly mind the way Jiho’s been looking at you with the biggest shit-eating grin on her lips. She’s already taken pictures, and you’ve been planning her murder for the last fifteen minutes.

[2:37 pm] Jiho❣️: attached photo [2:37 pm] Jiho❣️: u’re so mad lmao [2:38 pm] You: delete this picture immediately or i’ll end ur miserable life [2:38 pm] Jiho❣️: 😘😘😘😘😘 [2:38 pm] You: 😤😤😤😤😤 [2:38 pm] You: and Scottie deciding not to come???? Even worse [2:38 pm] You: he’s a traitor😩 [2:39 pm] Jiho❣️: u’re just mad bc now u and jk are the only single people attending [2:39 pm] You: last i checked heather and bridget weren’t official official🙄

Jiho snorts on the front passenger seat, and Hobi throws her a curious look. She shakes her head to indicate that it’s nothing, and you watch as she types her reply.

[2:40 pm] Jiho❣️: bitch plz😂 [2:40 pm] You: besides u’re gonna share a room with me🥺

Jiho laughs out loud this time, and you wonder if the glare you bore into her profile has any effect at all. She just glances at you, an eyebrow cocked prettily. You know what that means: no. No she won’t be sleeping with you. You’re going to have to sleep on the couch, because couples get the rooms. Lance made that rule, and even though you were desperate to not let it take effect, everyone but Jungkook was against you.

You’re not usually in agreement with Jungkook. But for that you were, and you hoped the others would take it into account. You’re stupid for thinking that they would.

Jungkook sighs in his sleep, readjusting himself until he’s even closer to you. You gulp, glancing at him with a scared look on your features. You want to push him away, but he looks so peaceful you just let him be.

[2:44 pm] You: why is he sleeping on me tho [2:45 pm] Jiho❣️: i’d sleep on u too [2:45 pm] You: u can if we share a room👉🏼👈🏼 [2:45 pm] Jiho❣️: nice try but no😇

You whine, and Jiho chuckles.

“What’s up with you two?” Hobi asks, and you meet his gaze in the rear view mirror.

Jiho shrugs. “Y/n is just mad that she’s going to sleep on the couch.

“I can let her sleep with you,” Hobi says, ever so the pacifist and kind man that he is.

“Yes!” you burst out.

It gains you a whine from Jungkook and a glare from Heather, before she rests her head back against the window and dozes off again.

“No,” Jiho refuses. “I want my sexy time.”

Hobi burns bright red as you let out, “Ew”.

Jiho winks at you over her shoulder, and then you all fall silent again. The cottage is still at least fifty minutes away, so you steel yourself as Jungkook shifts again. He mumbles in his sleep and you almost let out a startled yelp when his hand moves on your thigh. He’s not holding you, just resting his closed fist on the top of your thigh. But it’s still way too much touching for your comfort, so you push him away.

He frowns but doesn’t wake up, resting his head against the window with a sigh instead. His mouth falls open a little, and you keep a laugh in. He looks stupidly cute like that. It’s a disgusting thought – Jeon Jungkook is anything but cute – but you let it slide for today. Maybe because you can’t bring yourself to care.

You eventually fall asleep, the low music Jiho’s been playing lulling you to sleep. It’s much deserved sleep after all the anxiety of yesterday, and you only wake when the car comes to a full stop, and car doors slam shut.

You wake up with a start, ready to fight whoever made the noises, and you realize you’re alone in the car. With Jungkook, who has a tight-lipped smile on his lips when your gazes meet.

“You drool when you sleep,” he tells you, and you furrow your brow as you wipe your cheek.

Sure enough, you were drooling. It takes you a few seconds to realize he’s got a wet spot on his shoulder, and you reckon you woke up with your head rested against something. Something that suspiciously felt like Jungkook’s shoulders.

“Mmh,” you sleepily let out. “Sorry.”

He smiles. Sweetly. It starts with his eyes, as you’ve realized it usually happens when he smiles genuinely. “It’s all good. You looked peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

You echo his smile, nodding your head once before stretching your arms. It makes you yawn, which in turn makes him laugh. “What?” you ask.

“You slept like thirty minutes and you’re still tired.”

You glare at him. “I’m always tired.”

“Right.”

It’s a weird conversation, and it’s even weirder that you’re still sitting in the car. So you motion towards the door as you unbuckle your seatbelt, and Jungkook has a light tint on his cheeks as he nods and opens the door before stepping out. He stretches when he’s outside, and you scooch out of the car, imitating him as soon as your feet touch the ground.

“Gosh,” you let out, and he laughs.

“Yeah.”

You glance at him, and then your gaze slides to the landscape surrounding you. To the picturesque cottage that looks even better than what you had pictured, all made of logs. It looks straight out of a fairy tale. It’s cozied up in a little forest, and the wind that picked up earlier today still makes the leaves dance. It’s loud, like the sound of waves at sea, but it’s more constant. It doesn’t recede, and it creates a background soundtrack to the summer afternoon. The sun is still high in the sky, shining bright with not even a single cloud in sight. The air smell of the woods, and bugs fly around aimlessly, or following an aim only they know. The car is parked in the shadows, but you still feel the heat, and you’re glad there’s a breeze.

You take it all in with a bright smile on your lips, and it only grows wider when Jiho and Hobi rush out of the cottage.

“This is heaven,” Jiho declares. “I’m never leaving this place.”

“She says that because she saw the hot tub from the balcony,” Hobi says as he motions over his shoulder to the cottage.

It makes you laugh, and it turns into a giggle as Jiho grabs your hand and pulls you behind her. “While you men unpack the car we’re going to take a walk to the lake.”

“How is that fair?” Jungkook complains, but he’s grinning when you meet his gaze over your shoulder. You offer him an apologetic shrug of your shoulders, and he just chuckles before turning towards the car.

Lance’s car is pulling up the dirt road when you turn on the side of the house. You wave at Chaeyeon and him, but they don’t notice you as Jiho only keeps pulling you behind her.

“Look at this!” she says giddily as you walk to the back of the house. “It’s so pretty.”

It really is. The house is nestled right next to a small lake, with a few trees separating the building and the water. There’s a hot tub on the right, and a small rock path that leads to a quay in the water. You notice a fireplace area, though it’s not a circle of rocks like you had imagined, but an actual metal fireplace with a door that’s currently swinging on its hinges in the wind. Logs are piled beside it, just waiting for someone to ignite a fire.

Jiho’s giddiness is contagious, and you find yourself giggling as she pulls you towards the lake. There’s a small shed down by the lake, and a look through the window shows you two kayaks. It makes you even giddier, and you clap your hands before turning towards the quay.

The quay moves as you step on it. Fortunately, the water is not very deep and the lake is relatively calm even with the wind. You’re able to make it to the end of it without it shaking too much, and Jiho closes her eyes as she tilts her head back. “We should come here every weekend.”

You laugh. “As fun as that sounds like, we can’t skip practice every weekend.”

“We can practice here,” she points out, shrugging.

She’s not wrong, so you just smile and nod before imitating her, taking in the sun. But you feel a little bad for those inside that are setting up the house, so it’s not even a minute later when you say, “We should go help the others”.

Jiho whines, and she opens one eye to look at you. You cock an eyebrow and she rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

You walk back up the little slope until you reach the cottage. When you make it to the front, you see that a third car has arrived: Jin, Valeria, Taehyung, Jo and Bridget are all stretching outside of it. Jo notices you and waves happily.

You think it’s funny that she is here. It’s weird to think that even though she isn’t part of the dance crew, she’s still made her way into the friend group. Like Jin, Valeria and Taehyung, you reckon. Though you barely know Jin and Valeria. But you needed more people to rent this cottage, and considering it was the only one available, you didn’t really have a choice.

You move to their group to greet them, and then you help them unpack the car. You also help Lance, who was the one in charge with food and speakers for music. It takes a moment, but soon enough everything is settled. You’re all already hungry though, so you prepare the first meal of the weekend.

Well, you watch Jungkook, Jin, Valeria and Heather prepare it. You’re on washing dishes duty though, but you’ll only do that after you eat.

It’s fun. Cheerful. A little bubble outside of the seriousness of practice and nationals and auditions that you really can’t remember, can you? The light atmosphere is much needed, and you drink as you eat, and drink some more after washing the dishes. Then you all set out to explore outside, and Lance and Jin have a fire running by the time Jungkook figures out how to get the hot tub working. It’s still hot outside though, so you decide to wait before going into the tub, but Bridget, Heather, Chaeyeon and Jo all move to it. You stay with Jiho and the others by the fire, listening to the cracking of the logs as you talk and talk and talk.

There’s laughter. A lot of it. Laughter that turns more drunk as the evening unfolds, and the sun has set by the time you get up from your spot to go pee inside. The girls have come out of the tub, and they’re taking turns in the shower upstairs, so you head to the downstairs bathroom. You’re on the way out when Jo stops you.

She says your name, offering you a bright smile. “Are you in for some shots before we head outside? I’m taking some with the others.”

Sure enough, Chaeyeon, Bridget and Heather all look at you expectantly, and you don’t hesitate even a second before agreeing. You go outside with Jo and Chaeyeon after, as you all laugh when Bridget and Heather say they’ll take a shower together. You figure it’s better to let them have the house for a time, and you all join the rest of the group by the fire.

They’ve started playing some music and singing over it, and you laugh as Hobi belts a tune as if his life depends on it. Jungkook joins him and your eyes widen a little as you hear his voice.

Jungkook can sing. His voice is melodious, clear and full and round. It’s beautiful, the voice of an angel. You feel struck as you watch him, and he bursts out laughing when Hobi messes up the lyrics next to him.

You’ve stopped walking. And Jungkook meets your gaze, offering you a small smile before returning to the action around him. It strikes you, in a weird kind of way. It makes a weird feeling form in your chest, that same feeling you felt last week when you saved his number in your phone.

It’s not a feeling you like. So you push it aside as you join Jiho in her chair, sitting on her lap and stealing the bottle of soju she’s been drinking from. You need more alcohol in your blood, and soon.

It’s night by the time the group moves again. Some of them decide to go to the lake, but you stay by the fire as Valeria and Jin bring marshmallows out. Heather and Bridget never came out after their shower, and you don’t quite feel like going inside to find them.

Instead, you start roasting marshmallows, and soon enough you’re the elected marshmallow roaster, because you’re the only one who’s managed to not make them catch fire. You make some for everyone, before roasting one for yourself.

Since Jungkook has been the one feeding the fire for the last hour, it also makes it so you’re sitting next to him. The conversation is lively around you, but you’ve noticed he’s silent. He’s just staring at the fire, and it casts a dancing glow on his features.

He notices you looking at him, and his features soften as he turns to look at you. And then he bursts out laughing, and you do too as you notice your marshmallow has caught fire.

“Oops,” you mumble.

“I know I’m pretty but you should focus on the job at hand,” he teases you.

You punch him in the shoulder, before blowing on the fire until it dies. “Still edible if you ask me,” you say as you eye the burned thing on the branch you’ve been using since you started roasting marshmallows.

“Oh, clearly,” he agrees. “If you want to get cancer, that is.”

You glare at him, and he only laughs. “What’s life without a little risk?”

“Boring,” he answers wisely, face falling serious, though he only manages to keep the serious look for a few seconds before he’s breaking into yet another fit of laughter. One you echo before taking a bite of the marshmallow. You hum in delight, and Jungkook says, “What the fuck was that?”

You have the decency to blush. “What?”

“You’re not really the kind of person that moans when they eat good food?”

“I wasn’t moaning,” you let out outrageously.

It gains everybody’s attention around the fire, and Jungkook laughs at you. You shove him in the shoulder again, but he annoyingly barely moves in his chair.

“Who’s moaning?” Lance asks.

Both you and Jungkook look startled for a time, and you glare at him. “No one, Jeon’s just being a little shit.”

“What’s new?” Jiho jokes, and everyone laughs.

The trio that went to the lake comes back – Taehyung, Jo and Hobi. Jo scans the people around the fire, brows knitting together.

“Where are Bridget and Heather?”

The whole group laughs. “They never came out,” Chaeyeon admits. “I’d advise to not go looking for them.”

Jo snorts. “Oof yeah, that’s a no for me.”

It’s not even that funny, yet everyone laughs as the trio settles around the fireplace. Hobi and Jiho share a chair, and you realize there’s no chair for Jo and Taehyung. You’re about to offer yours when they just sit directly in the grass, giggling like the two idiots in love that they are. They lie down after a few seconds, and Jo points up at the sky.

It makes you look up, and you suddenly feel very small, under the immensity of the night sky. It sobers you up, just a little, and you sit back in the chair to get a good look. You admire the stars and constellations, searching for those you know. It leads to everyone doing so, and it also creates a calmer atmosphere, until half the group is dozing off in their chair.

Someone changed the music to softer tunes, and you really listen to the night sounds now, as the melody entwines with the cracking of the logs. Soon enough, Jin and Valeria decide to go to bed. Jungkook immediately teases the older guy, saying that only elderly people go to bed so early. Jin just throws a marshmallow at Jungkook, who receives it right on the forehead. He looks stunned, and he raises his middle finger at Jin as he just laughs where he’s leading Valeria inside. Chaeyeon and Lance are the next to go, and your gaze trails them until they stop to kiss. You give them privacy then, focusing on the fire instead.

It leaves only you, Jungkook, Jo, Taehyung, Jiho and Hobi by the fire, and you sigh in content as Jungkook throws another log into the fire.

“Last one, I assume?” he lets out.

The group mumbles in agreement.

“We’ll party harder tomorrow,” Jiho promises before yawning.

It makes everyone yawn, and you laugh tired laughs as you watch the flames licking up the log.

“We should set up a beer pong table,” you suggest.

Taehyung seems to spark to life at the idea. “I’m so in for some beer pong.”

“What about a tournament?” Jungkook proposes. “Losers have to jump in the lake.”

Jiho winces. “I hope Hobi’s good because there’s no way in hell I’m jumping in the lake.”

“I got you, babe.”

You notice them exchanging a long look. It’s filled with love, grossly so, and you roll your eyes before settling your gaze on the stars above once more. You let out a happy yelp when a shooting star crosses the sky.

“Oh my God!”

Jo is just as happy as you are. “Oh shit!” she echoes. “We have to make a wish.”

You laugh, nodding your head repeatedly. The four others just look at you curiously, before Jo explains that there was a shooting star.

Everyone’s eyes are back on the night sky in no time, and you reckon you might fall asleep like this.

Stargazing, and wishing that you’ll find your own person soon enough.

Saturday, July 7th

                “I’ll kill you.”

Jungkook smiles, and the breeze of the afternoon catches in his hair, making a strand fall in his eyes. He pushes his hair back. “I’d like to see you try.”

Something changed. He knows something changed between the two of you. It’s exciting, in a childish kind of way. He feels young next to you, and he’s been following you around all day, claiming that he wants to avoid the couples. Which is not entirely a lie, but he mostly wants to be around you.

It’s a new feeling. Or almost entirely new, because he felt like that around you once before. The night after he told you about his accident. He’s pushed that away since then, but it seems being here, at this cottage in the middle of nature, brings it out.

He’s been failing at pushing it away since last night, and he reckons he doesn’t even want to try anymore.

You put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side. Your hair sways in the wind, and he wants to brush it behind your shoulder. He resists, because he’s pretty sure you’ll bite his head off if he does.

“You’re the one that suggested kayaking.”

He did. But throwing you in the water seems like twice the fun, so he’s been teasing you about it as you stand next to the shed.

“Maybe it was just a trap?” he says, winking at you. He takes a step towards you, and you immediately take a step back.           

Jo and Taehyung are sitting on the quay, watching the water and talking in hushed tones. Jungkook feels Jo’s gaze on him, and he resists glancing at her.

He knows what she thinks. She’s made it pretty clear in the last week. Maybe it’s contributed to the softness in him whenever he watches you.

Maybe.

“You’re annoying.”

“But yet you came with me?”

You squint your eyes, shaking your head. “Not with you. I came to kayak.”

“Right.”

“I swear.”

He bursts out laughing, and it’s his turn to shake his head. “Of course, of course.”

“Why are you…” you start before letting out a strangled sound. “I’m going back to the house.”

“No!” he immediately says, a little louder than necessary. This time, both Taehyung and Jo look at you two. “I’m just teasing, let me bring the kayak out.”

He’s blushing. He feels it coming up slowly from deep within his chest, so he quickly turns towards the shed and goes in. A few spiders are hiding in their webs, and he swats one away from the first kayak. He almost hesitates to leave it in just to spook you, but he doesn’t really want to spook you right now. Not when his heart is beating just a little quicker.

He doesn’t know if he likes it. But he’ll roll with it for the rest of the weekend, because he doesn’t think he’ll have the opportunity to do so after that.

He brings out the two kayaks before going back for the paddles, and a moment later he’s helping you to sit in yours, holding your hand while you step in it before sitting. Jo and Taehyung are watching now, barely even talking, and Jungkook can’t wait until you’ve moved away from the quay.

He hates the way the couple has been watching you both. It feels like he’s under pressure, and he knows he doesn’t do well under pressure. Except when it came to dance, but that’s long gone now.

He gets into his own kayak as you’re already starting to move away.

“Bye losers,” you say towards Taehyung and Jo.

“Try not to drown,” Jo replies as she waves you off.

You laugh, a crystal clear laugh that makes Jungkook very aware of how Taehyung is looking at him. He catches his older friend’s gaze, furrowing his brow.

Taehyung glances down at Jungkook’s attire – a pair of pants. He looks like he wants to say something, and Jungkook knows what.

He’s not going to wear shorts. Not when it’d put his scar on display to the whole crew. He hasn’t gotten the courage to tell everyone yet, and he doesn’t want to be forced to explain anything. He just wants to focus on being in the present, because he hasn’t done that in a while.

So he glares at Taehyung, clenching his jaw. Taehyung sighs before looking away. Just like that the moment passes, and Jungkook settles in his kayak before quickly following you.

“Is it a race or something?” he asks as he moves closer.

You look at him over your shoulder, a bright smile on your lips that turns mischievous as soon as your gaze finds his. “It is and you’re losing.”

Now, bringing out his competitive side is a bad idea, but that’s who you are, isn’t it?

Jungkook pushes the paddle in the water harder, accelerating his rhythm. It makes you screech, and you quickly do the same. Your lean arms are nothing against his though, and he’s caught up to you in no time. Unable to resist, he splashes water on you.

“Jungkook!” you scream. “I’m trying not to wet my hair!”

“Oh are you?” He does it again, this time purposefully aiming for your head. You dodge but to no avail.

“I’ll murder you,” you threaten, and you send water flying his way.

He barely gets any on himself, and he cocks an eyebrow arrogantly. “Is that the best you can do?”

It pisses you off. He sees it in the way resolve fills your face, and he’s not surprised he’s thoroughly drenched by the time you finally stop. He’s just accepted defeat and let you splash him as he laughs. You laugh too, and he reckons it’s his favourite thing about you.

The way you laugh when you’re being a brat. It’s endearing.

He’s endeared by you. That’s what the feeling is. He’s been trying to put words on it since last night. Last night it was struck. He was struck as you spoke to him with that soft edge to you. And then it turned to endearment.

He reckons he missed you, while he was hiding from all of the crew because of his accident. He really did. Something about you was missing from his life.

He pushes the thoughts away as you stop splashing him.

“Oops,” you say when he meets your gaze.

His hair is wet, and he puts the paddle down to push it back. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes follow his motion, and the furrow of your brows before you frustratingly look away.

“I’m debating making you fall in the water,” he teases, pursing his lips before playing with his piercing.

Your gaze widens. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He moves his paddle in the water to get closer to you, and you quickly move away.

“I would definitely dare,” he tells you. “I’m all wet because of you.”

His brows knit together as he realizes what he just said sounded suspicious. Of course you burst out laughing, before saying, “That’s what she said”.

He rolls his head to the back of his head. “Lame.”

“You’re lame,” you counter-back.

It’s like that for the rest of the time you spend on the water. Even though he threatened to throw you in the water many times today, Jungkook doesn’t really want to do it. He likes the peace between the two of you: he’s not going to do something to fuck it up.        

You eventually get bored of kayaking, and you switch places with Chaeyeon and Bridget when the two of you return to the quay. Jo and Taehyung have gone back to the house, but Lance, Heather, Jin and Valeria are there, and you sit with them for a while, just talking.

Mindlessly, Jungkook pulls his shirt up to dry his face from the last of the water you splashed on him before getting out of the water.

He realizes his mistake only when the shirt falls back in place, and Lance is watching him with round eyes.

“What’s that scar?”

Jungkook stills. Unmoving, barely even able to breathe. The air is suddenly less warm, and he can almost see the snow again. His heart constricts in his chest, and he just stares back at Lance as if he’s a doe caught in headlights.

“You don’t just ask people why they have scars, Lance,” you grumble.

It surprises Jungkook that you said something. But then again you’re not the type to back down from a fight.

Lance seems startled by the tone of your voice. He frowns as his gaze slides to you. “It was just a question?”

“It could make people uncomfortable?”

Jin is looking at Jungkook. He’s got a careful expression on his features, and he looks between you and Jungkook a couple of times. As if this moment matters, and truthfully it does matter to Jungkook, because you’re bickering with Lance and it entirely shifted the attention away from him.

Jungkook manages to shrug his shoulders at Jin, who offers him a no-bullshit look. Valeria punches him in the arm, and Jin lets out a startled sound that has everyone looking at him.

The moment passes, and it’s dinner time when Lance moves closer to Jungkook, clearly having waited until you aren’t around to actually approach him. Jungkook steels himself for the questioning, but Lance only says, “Whatever happened, I’m glad you’re okay, bro”.

It renders Jungkook speechless, and all he can do is nod his head at Lance. Lance claps him on the shoulder, and he immediately walks away, as if his job here is done.

And maybe it is, and all he wanted to do was prove that he’s Jungkook’s friend. It makes Jungkook appreciate him ten times more, and then he takes a moment to really look at everyone. The girls are all laughing about a story Jin is telling, and Taehyung is just shaking his head in disbelief where he’s grilling the meat for dinner. Lance moves towards Taehyung to offer help, and Jungkook just stays alone for a moment, enjoying the scene.

The sun is setting, the air is warm and the light breeze from today has fallen. But the air is not still, and it smells of the rich soil of the forest, and of the meat Taehyung is grilling. The sky is still void of any clouds, and it’s turned to a rich golden glow from the setting sun.

Jungkook is stricken, once again, by the fact that he is alive. He’s alive and breathing and even though his leg hurts, he’s standing. He’s standing and walking and yes he can’t dance anymore, but there’s so much more to life than dance, isn’t there?

His eyes slide to you as he thinks the thought. You’re looking at Jin with a little smirk, the one he knows you use when you’re judging someone. But you feel his eyes on you and your gaze meets his. The smirk falls into a small, secretive smile, and Jungkook breathes in sharply.

His heart is beating a little louder, and this time he does push it away. He does try not to think of it, but it’s hard when you look at him like that. With that soft edge he saw yesterday. It fills him with wonder, the same wonder he got from watching the night sky the day before.

You’re like a star in a bleary night. It’s hard to look away from you, and he only does so when Taehyung says the meat is ready. It’s like someone cut the string between you and him, and he almost stumbles forward as he glances to Taehyung.

He gulps, taking a deep, steadying breath before he moves to help Taehyung bring the food to the table. Lance helps too, and the three of them together make quick work of filling everyone’s plate, and Jungkook soon settles down in a chair next to you, right in front of Jo.

Dinner is fun. Cheery, with lots of laughter. Everyone is already a little tipsy from the day-drinking you’ve all done, and Jungkook feels like there’s more than alcohol in his blood this evening. There are feelings, joy and happiness to be here in this moment.

He should live in the moment more often.

“Hey JK,” Jo says, and he raises his eyes from his plate.

His fork is halfway to his mouth when he lets out, “Uh?”

“How is it going with Laura?”

Everything inside of him stills, like it did earlier today with Lance but for a completely different reason this time. He freezes, and he doesn’t miss the way your head immediately snaps towards him at Jo’s question.

Jo has an insufferable smile on her lips, and Jungkook just can’t move.

Laura. She’s a girl from his class that started texting him a few weeks ago. He’s seen her once, just because she said she had questions about her camera and it would be easier if Jungkook answered in person. Laura is a sweet girl. Pretty too, but Jungkook doesn’t know if their talking will lead anywhere. He doesn’t feel like he’s ready to jump headfirst into a relationship.      

Especially not as he feels your expectant gaze on his profile.

“Laura?” he repeats.

“Didn’t you go on a date with her?” Jo asks.

Jungkook frowns, shaking his head. “It wasn’t a date,” he points out. “She needed help with her new camera.”

About that. Jungkook brought a camera with him this weekend. He’s been taking pictures once in a while, mostly of nature. Because he’s always been more of a landscape photographer. Maybe because landscapes tend to change less than people. They feel unbreakable, immovable, and it’s reassuring in some way.

“That sounds like the lamest start of a porno,” Lance jokes.

Everyone laughs. Everyone but you and Jungkook. Jungkook only shrugs, before saying, “I didn’t sleep with her”.

You scoff next to him. It aggravates him, something you haven’t made him feel in a while now. His brows knit together as he turns his head toward you.

“You want us to believe you didn’t sleep with her?” you let out.

It’s bitter. And you seem to realize it quite at the same time as he does, because you flush red, and you look away from him to glance down at your half-empty plate on the table.

Jungkook’s features relax, and a smile even tugs at the corners of his lips. He knows what Jo is doing. Especially as he sees the knowing smirk on her lips.

She dared him to find a way to make you jealous earlier this week, when he invited her and Taehyung to the cottage. As if making you jealous is a good idea.

He now sees what she meant. Because you’re playing with your food, a look of confusion creased into your features. It’s cute, and it makes the same feeling arise in him.

Everyone starts talking again, but Jungkook feels the weight of Taehyung and Jin’s gazes on him. He avoids them like the plague, focusing on trying to keep his smile in. He doesn’t want to infuriate you by making a comment.

Especially not when you’ve been forced to team up for the beer pong tournament. Which, turns out you’re a lot better than he thought you would be. Than you said you were, because you make it to the final round, getting beaten by Bridget and Heather out of all people. The two girls celebrate to the sounds of everyone whooping and cheering, and Jungkook can’t keep his smile in.

Tonight promises to be quite the party. And it is. With lots of drinking, and Chaeyeon and Lance having to jump into the lake because they were last in the tournament. It’s funny, but it leads to them deciding to go to bed early, saying something about being cold from the lake.

Jungkook knows exactly what they have in mind when he sees them staring at each other the way that they are. Like they’re alone in the universe, and maybe to them they really are.

He’s surprised when the rest of the group starts to follow Chaeyeon and Lance. The night is younger than it was yesterday when it came to an end, but there’s something in the air. It brings the couples closer together, makes them exchange secretive glances and stolen touches. Jungkook finds Taehyung and Jo making out outside of the bathroom when he goes in to pee, and they never come out after that. Jin and Valeria move in not even five minutes later, right before Hobi and Jiho, and it leaves Bridget, Heather and you alone with him outside.

He’s not surprised when the two girls decide to go to sleep too, even though Jungkook has just started the hot tub at Bridget’s request. It leaves him alone with you and the red solo cup in his hand. It’s filled to the brim and, quite frankly, Jungkook doesn’t feel tired at all. He feels alive, awake and ready to conquer the world if need be.

You look exactly like that too.

“Wow,” you let out once everyone is gone.

Jungkook feels awkward for half a heartbeat. But then his eyes slide to the house, and he notices Jo in the window. She quickly dips out of his line of sight, which makes him understand exactly what happened.

You’ve been left alone outside on purpose, and Jo’s the one that schemed the whole thing.

“They’re boring,” Jungkook says, though he feels like laughing. He hopes you don’t notice.

“They didn’t even go into the hot tub,” you point out. “What a waste of energy.”

He glances at the tub, and an idea forms in the back of his mind. He doubts you’re going to say yes.

*****

                You don’t know why you said yes. Going into a hot tub alone with Jungkook sounds like a very bad idea, and the more you think about it the worse it seems to you. Yet you make your way outside after having put on your black two-piece swimsuit, wrapped in a white towel you fished from the bathroom.

The house was eerily quiet when you and Jungkook went in to change. It is still just as quiet as you get out of the bathroom, and aim for the kitchen to make yourself a glass before you go outside. You notice Jungkook is already out there, testing the temperature of the water. He’s wearing trunks, and he got rid of his t-shirt, discarding it on a chair next to the slowly dying fire. He turns towards the window as you’re pouring a glass, probably to see if you’re coming. It’s not your fault when your eyes dip down to his leg.

Even in the darkness you see the angry knot of skin that runs from below his knee and disappears in his swim trunks. It’s ugly, and your heart stops beating for a few seconds as you see it. Jungkook was right when he told you about his accident the first time – the scar on his leg is far scarier than the one on his stomach.

You wave back at him as he waves, a dumb smile on his lips. You focus on that smile, because you don’t want to be thinking of the scar. Don’t want to be thinking about the pain Jungkook must have endured. The pain he is still enduring to this day.

You’re hesitant when you step outside, though you make sure to bring a glass for him too. He’s still smiling when you arrive, and it only widens when you hand him the red solo cup.

“Thought you might want a refill.”

He tilts his head to the side, winking at you as he grabs the glass. “Always.”

You move towards the tub, ignoring the way you feel his gaze on you. It makes you self-conscious, and you don’t want to peel the towel from around yourself. You reckon you can’t get in the water with it though, so you carefully put your glass down on the side of the tub before taking the towel off, leaving it on the same chair where Jungkook’s shirt is.

“It might be a little hot,” Jungkook warns as you move back to the tub. “I adjusted the temperature a little while I was waiting for you.”

You dip your fingers in the water, shrugging your shoulders. “Seems good enough to me.”

He laughs, and his eyes follow you as you climb into the tub. The water is hot, extremely so, but you’re drunk and the jet of the tub looks far too inviting for you to wait.

“Alright then, guess I’ll get in too.”

You watch as he does so, and your eyes once again fall to his scar. It stretches weirdly as he bends his leg, as if it doesn’t really allow him full movements anymore. It explains why his dancing has turned mechanical now, and why he can’t move the way that he did before.           

He’s noticed your gaze on the scar while getting in. You know it, because his features have fallen serious by the time he sits in front of you.

“I know, it’s ugly,” he says, and his eyes get lost in the bubbles in the water.

You remain silent for a time, waiting for his gaze to meet yours. When it does, you finally say, “Nothing about you is ugly”.

It’s smooth, the way you say it. It makes his eyes widen and a laugh bursts from his lips. You don’t even know why you flirted with him – you just had an inkling it’d make him fall back into his usual cocky self.

And of course it does.

“You think I’m hot?”

You roll your eyes, before grabbing your red solo cup from where you left it. Jungkook grabs his own, and it takes a few seconds before you’re settled back into your seat. You take a small sip from the glass, letting the rum and coke swirl in your mouth for a second before you swallow.

“I’m not going to answer that question.”

He smirks. “Then I’ve got my answer.”

You squint your eyes, fake glaring at him, and it only makes him laugh.

“You’re insufferable.”

He shrugs his shoulders, and he takes a sip from his glass. He winces then, before raising his eyebrows. “How strong did you make this?”

“Strong enough to have you shut up?”

“Oh please.” He laughs once more. “You know that won’t make me shut up. As a matter of fact, it’s probably just going to make me talk more.”

You chuckle, shaking your head a little. “My mistake.”

Jungkook really is hot, sitting there. His hair is fluffy around his face – it really is a lot longer than it was before. It curls a little at the ends, making a crown around his head. He’s buff too, and it makes you wonder how he manages to work out at the gym even with his injury. And it’s hard not to let your gaze wander to the tattoos on his shoulders, the ink that goes from his hand up to the top of his arm.

He’s attractive, damn him. You hate it, so you say, “So, Laura uh?”

He holds your gaze, his tongue darting out to play with his piercing for a time. “What about her?”

You cock an eyebrow. “You tell me.”

He’s smirking now, and his eyes dip to where your chest disappears in the water before moving up to your features again. “Why do you want to know?”

You feel hot. Not because of the water, though you reckon it really is hot. No, his gaze is burning you, in a way that makes you feel naked. You don’t know if you like it. But two can play this game Jungkook seems to have chosen.

You shrug your shoulders, wetting your lips before smiling. “Just making conversation, Jeon.”

His gaze has moved to your lips. It stays there as he says, “Seems to me like you got a little jealous earlier”.

You refuse to admit that it was jealousy, when Jo mentioned Laura at dinner time. To you, it was just surprise, and you’ve been repeating it to yourself ever since it happened.

“Why would I be jealous?” you ask, brows knitting together as a smile plays on your lips. “You’re nothing to me.”

“Right.” He chuckles, and he drinks from his cup, his gaze burning into yours. “I’m nothing and yet you’re in this hot tub alone with me.”

He’s arrogantly cocky, isn't he? It used to piss you off, but tonight it just makes your blood boil.

“Wasn’t going to waste the opportunity for a hot tub session,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “Unfortunate that it had to come with you though.”

He fakes offence. “You offend me.”

You snort, and his features relax into a small smile. There’s a moment of silence, where you find yourself too much of a coward to keep holding his gaze. It’s your turn to let your gaze wander down to the spot where his chest disappears in the water, and you drink from your cup.

“Do you want to play Truth or Dare?” he suggests after almost a minute without any of you speaking.

You chuckle. “Are we twelve?”

He shrugs. “Just thought it could be fun.” He pouts a little, and it really does make him look like he’s twelve. “Unless you’re too much of a coward for it.”

“Me, a coward?” you scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. “Truth or Dare, Jeon?”

The cocky smirk reappears. “Truth.”

You don’t know what to ask. At all. Your mind goes empty, until he lets out a laugh that gives you an idea. “What’s the deal with Laura?”

“You really want to know, uh?”

You shrug. “You chose truth, now answer the question.”

He laughs a little, and then plays with his piercing for a few seconds. You watch him do so, eyes falling to his lips.

“We hung out once”, he says.

It’s the same answer as earlier, but you feel like a brat right now. So, you press him by saying, “And that’s it? You’re not going to see her again?”

He ponders for a time, making you wait before he replies, “We’re supposed to go on a date sometime next week”.

You feel like maybe you shouldn’t have asked the question. Because his reply makes you clench your jaw, and you take a sip from your cup to hide it. “Jeon Jungkook on a date? Are you having a fever?”

“She’s nice, just thought I’d give it a try,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He’s still smirking, and this time it’s knowing.

He knows that the thought of him going on a date with Laura is pissing you off. And you don’t even know why it makes you feel like that. You’re not sure you should be feeling like that when it comes to Jeon Jungkook. He’s barely even a friend.

“Hope it goes well for you,” you say, though it sounds tense.

He shrugs, winking at you. “I’ll let you know.” He pauses for a moment, before asking, “Truth or Dare?”

So the conversation about Laura is over then. And he’s a fool if he thinks you’ll say truth.

“Dare.”

He looks far too happy about your choice. “Chug your glass.”

You frown. “But then I won’t have anything to drink if I don’t want to do some of your dares.”

“Oh, we’re playing adult Truth or Dare? Had I known I wouldn’t have answered your question.” You glare at him, and he laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Just drink, you can always drink from my glass later.”

Your glare intensifies, if that’s possible, but you still give in. You’re not one to back away from a challenge, and you chug your glass in a few long swigs. Your nose scrunches up as you finish, and you put the cup down.

“Happy?” you let out, and he nods with that same insufferable smirk on his lips. You want to wipe it away, but you don’t really know how. Instead, you only ask him, “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

You hate dares. You never know what to suggest. You don’t feel like making him chug his glass, so you cock your head to the side as you survey him, mind reeling for an idea.

“Go get me another glass.”

He’s surprised. So are you, but you think it’s a brilliant idea.

“It’s so far,” he complains, with that same childish pout he used a moment ago. “Can I change for Truth?”

“You’re annoying”, you say, though you don’t really mind.

Something in the way he’s been looking at you makes you want him to stay anyway.

“You’re the one that wants me to go all the way inside.”

You chuckle, before shaking your head. “Alright then, let me find you a truth.” It takes you about half a minute before you come up with an idea. “How many girls have you slept with?”

He snorts. “Wow, straight to the body count I see.” He falls silent again, and his hand plays with the bubbles in the water in front of him.

“So?”

You think he’s blushing. It’s hard to tell in the dim light – indeed, the only light illuminating the scene is the one from next to the door, and the tub’s purple light.

“I’d say…” he trails off, scrunching his nose as he thinks. “Like twenty-five?”

It’s a lot, but not as much as you expected. Jungkook has a fuckboy vibe to him, and you were pretty sure he had at least fifty.

“Only?”

He furrows his brows. “Only?”

“I thought you had more,” you admit, chuckling as you shrug your shoulders.

He sips from his cup. “Sorry to disappoint.” His eyes glint with mischief, and he adds, “Truth or Dare?”

You hesitate, maybe because something in the way his eyes sparkle makes you think he’s got something in mind. You feel it – anticipation is building in you, and some parts of you can already see the outcome before it unfolds. Like a web of possibilities, and the longer he looks at you like that, the more it closes in to the anticipated one.

“Truth.”

He’s silent for a time. His face falls more serious, darker, and he’s so hot sitting there you really have to look away. “If everyone was single here, who would you fuck?”

You refuse to admit his question makes a drop of pure magma roll down your spine, before it moves forward and settles in your core.

“Jiho.” It’s a lie. You both know it, but he lets it slide – for now. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

You hit him with the same question he’s just asked you. His reply is far more cryptic.

“You already know the answer.”

You breathe in shakily, and something tightens inside of you. “Do I?”

His mouth is a little parted, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips before he takes a sip from the cup. He seems to reconsider it, because he chugs the whole thing before putting it down on the side of the tub.

“Do you?”

It confirms the answer. And you don’t know what to make of it. It scares you, somehow, but makes the fire in your burn brighter.

“Truth or dare?” he asks then, and a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Dare.”

You don’t even hesitate. You’re afraid he’s going to ask you stuff you don’t know the answer to if you choose truth.

“Why don’t you come sit closer, mmh?”

Still no hesitation from you. You’re like the moth and he the flame – you know it’s a bad idea, but you haven’t looked away from his eyes in too long. You’re in a trance, and you think so is he.

You settle next to him. Far enough not to touch, but close enough for every inch between you to fill with electricity. Not that it wasn’t already before – you are just way more conscious of it now.

“Truth or dare?” you ask, and it’s a little breathless, the way you speak.

“Dare,” he says. His eyes are on your lips now, and all you can do for a time is to observe his features. He’s got a mole under his mouth, and a scar on one of his cheeks. It looks old, and it’s so faded you can barely see it.

You have no dare in mind. You feel like you don’t even have any thoughts. You’re stuck looking at his lips, where your gaze settles as you watch his features. “Uh?” you let out.

He chuckles. It’s deep, manly, and it makes you look up to his eyes. “No idea what to ask?”

“You already chugged your glass.”

“There’s nothing else you want me to do?”

There’s a whole lot you want him to do, but a whole lot you don’t want him to do. It’s confusing, and your heart is beating too loud for you to think straight.

“Is there something you want to do?” you ask.

He’s bold. His hand moves up, his fingers lightly touching the side of your neck. “I could kiss your neck.” They trail down until they find a home on your shoulders. “Or I could massage your shoulders, you seem a little tense.”

You are. You are because there is a war of conflicting emotions in you, and you don’t know which side will win. “Massage my shoulders then.”

He laughs, before making you turn. It’s easier to breathe once he’s not in your line of sight anymore, though the moment his hands start working on your shoulders, you tense up again. “Relax,” he murmurs, adding your name at the end.

“You’re making me anxious,” you admit breathlessly.

He stays silent as he works on your shoulders, for so long you think he won’t talk. But then he says, “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

His hands are big, and his fingers are skilled. In a matter of a few minutes he’s undid every knot in your shoulders, and you find yourself able to breathe. You still don’t want to risk looking at him though.

“Truth or dare?” he asks.

Maybe you can be bold too. Maybe you can just focus on every spot where his fingers are digging in your skin. Maybe it doesn’t have to mean anything.

“Dare.”

“Give me a hickey.”

You snort, mostly because it takes you by surprise. “What?”

His hands fall from your shoulders. “You heard me well.”              

“Aren’t hickeys bad for you?” you say, though you’ve never really cared about that. You care about it even less when you hear him move in the water.

“I think everything about you is bad for my sanity right now.” He whispers the words directly into your ear, and goosebumps form on your arms.

“Please don’t think this is going to lead anywhere,” you whisper back, right as you tilt your head to the side. You feel the ghost of his lips on your skin, but he straightens before he’s really done anything.

“Then why are you afraid of giving me a hickey?”

It is a challenge, and you don’t back down from challenges. So you turn around, say fuck it, and lean towards his neck until your mouth finds the spot where it connects with his shoulder. You suck, hard, and he hisses as one of his hands moves to your back, as if he wants to pull you closer.

You run your tongue on the spot you’ve sucked, before straightening. He’s got a deep purple mark there now, and you smirk in satisfaction. “Happy now?”

His chest is moving up and down quickly as he breathes. He’s out of breath, and the insufferable smirk is gone now. He seems a little angry, with a crease between his brows. “Yeah.”

You’re about to succumb to insanity. It’s taking a hold of you, choking you up until you say, “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he answers.

He seems just as conflicted as you. But the web of possibilities from earlier dwindled down until there’s only one left, and both of you know it.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

Your heart beats once, and then it stops in your chest. Because you meet him halfway, crashing your mouth on his so hard you think you taste blood. You don’t care: insane people do not care about anything. All you want is to feel his lips against yours, and damn him he’s a good kisser.

It’s intense, languid, and his hands don’t take their time before he’s pulling you on his lap. You straddle him, your own hands finding purchase on his shoulders, before moving up until you’ve cupped his face. And you hold him in place as you kiss, never once breaking away for air.

You don’t need oxygen when you’re kissing Jeon Jungkook. All you need are his lips, and he gives you plenty of that. And when his tongue finds yours, you moan in his mouth.

He swallows it like a man starved.

His hands are on your back. Respectfully so, even as he’s devouring your mouth. It frustrates you, because you want more. You want to feel all of him. It makes you grab a handful of his hair, and you pull his head back.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

“I’m not going to fuck you in a hot tub.”

It’s the only intelligent thing you could think of.

“We can –“

Your lips are back on his before he finishes his sentence, and you suck on his bottom lip, tongue darting out to play with his piercing. This time, he grunts in your mouth, and his hands lose their fight against his will not to touch you more. They move down until he’s cupped your ass, and he makes you grind on him.

You moan, and he breaks away from the kiss, just so he can bend down and leave a trail of hot, wet kisses on the column of your throat. You just let your hands loose in his hair and on his shoulders, nails digging in his skin when he decides to suck a hickey on you too.

You grind again then, and you feel the bulge of him press against you.

“We can’t fuck in the tub,” you say, and your voice is unrecognizable even to yourself. It’s lustful, sinfully so, and you’d be embarrassed if he didn’t meet your gaze with his half-lidded eyes.

“We can go in the shower.”

You’ve never been a fan of shower sex, so you say, “As much as that would probably be a good idea, I won’t fuck you in a shower either.”

He’s confused. You can tell by the way he tilts his head to the side. “Where do you want me to fuck you then? In the middle of the living room?”

It makes you chuckle, and an unexpected smile appears on his lips.

“I don’t think we should fuck.”

His grip on your ass tightens as his features turn dark, and he makes you grind on him again. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, embarrassingly so, as you let out a breathy moan. “Right,” he says.

“Fuck,” you curse.

He leans forward again, and this time his lips find a spot right over the top of your bikini. He sucks on your skin, and you moan as you grind again.

It’s uncomfortable. Not his lips on you, no, but the water of the tub mixed with the fabric of your swimwear. If you didn’t know how unsanitary it is, you would let him fuck you right then and there. But you don’t want to get an infection.

“Let’s go inside.” This time, one of his hands moves from your ass, trailing up your side until he’s grabbed one of your boobs. “Please.”

“Anything for you,” he mumbles against your breast, before straightening.

You kiss him again, just for good measure, and then you push away from him, reluctantly so. You feel his heavy gaze on you as you get out of the tub, and you’ve wrapped yourself in your towel by the time he’s followed you.

You forgot how tall he is. Because as he steps closer to you, towering above you, your mind goes blank again and you just let him crash his lips against yours. He’s holding your face, and his thumbs brush your skin gently before he pulls away. He stays close enough for you to feel his warm breath on you, but far enough so that you can’t reach his lips anymore.

“I need to take a shower,” you murmur.

He nods, and you feel it more than you see it. “Me too.”

“Yeah.”

He chuckles lightly, and he straightens to look up at the sky. His hands are still delicately holding your cheeks, and you watch his sharp jawline for a few seconds before he speaks.

“The stars are beautiful.”

You’re not looking at the night sky when you reply, “Yeah”.

He lets you go, then, but his hand falls until he’s grabbed one of yours. His large hand wraps around yours, and you let him do it, heart settling to a calmer beat in your chest.

“Do you want to dance?” he asks.

You stiffen. It feels strange to have him ask that. You almost forgot that he is a dancer too, in his soul, even though his physical body doesn’t permit him to let loose anymore.

“You want to dance?”

He has a soft smile on his lips when he meets your gaze. It’s miles away from the intensity it held just a moment ago, and you can’t help but offer him a smile of your own.

“Yes.”

You don’t want to refuse. Not when it feels like this moment matters. As if you’re about to create a core memory, and maybe you are.

Maybe you are.

The night sky is filled with stars. Distant burning constellations, and they wink at the two of you as Jungkook leads you through a slow dance. His steps are sure tonight, albeit a little mechanical, and his hand on the small of your back feels like a weight anchoring you into the present.

Up above, the stars just shine on and on, endlessly, for eternity. And you feel like eternity. You feel small and big, unimportant yet cataclysmic. He is cataclysmic. He is the start and the end, like the story is weaved into the tapestry of the universe itself.

And maybe it is.

“Thank you,” he murmurs after you’ve moved in time with him for a little eternity – your little eternity.

His voice is heavy. It holds the weight of the universe, and you reach up to cup his cheek, to anchor him in this moment with you.

“I’m happy to be here with you.”

His eyes are shining. Like the stars above, and the ones you’re starting to see behind his pupils. He hasn’t looked away from you since you started dancing, and you from him. You don’t think you can.

“I forgot how it felt to dance,” he admits.

Though he has danced since the accident. You’ve seen him dance, but maybe his heart wasn’t into it. Maybe his heart is in the moment now, maybe it’s beating in sync with all of your steps.

“How does it feel?” you ask, smiling up at him.

“Liberating. Like I’m just one of the stars in the sky up above.”

You don’t know what that feels like. It makes you realize you’ve never truly felt free. Jeon Jungkook looks at peace now, and you can just hope you’ll get to feel like that one day too.

A cool breeze rises around you, and you shiver as it moves on your skin. Jungkook notices, and he dips his head to kiss you again. Softly, gently, and when he pulls away he says, “Let’s go inside, you’re cold”.

You nod your head, even though you never want the moment to end. But nothing lasts in life – not even the stars above. One day they’ll die too, until all that’s left of them is an empty husk of life.

To you, that’s what love has always been like. It hits and leaves nothing of it behind. Maybe that’s why you step away from Jungkook.

“Yes.”

*****

                The shower you take is short. Scalding hot, until your skin has turned bright red. Only then are you satisfied, and you step out to dry yourself with a towel. You’re gentle with the towel, and you can still feel Jungkook’s hands on you. Can still feel the weight of his eyes on you.

If you could, you’d leave the cottage now. You’d run while you still can, but you can’t.

You can’t, so you step out of the bathroom and make your way to the living room where you both slept the night before. Where he snored softly until the noises he made were entwined with your dreams.

He’s already sitting on his couch when you arrive. His hair is wet from the shower he took in the downstairs bathroom, right next to the room where Chaeyeon and Lance are sleeping. He’s wearing black joggers and an oversized dark grey t-shirt, and he looks inherently comfortable. As if he’s comfort personified. He pushes his hair back as you come into view, offering you another one of his soft smiles.

You didn’t know Jungkook has softness in him. You feel it now: it’s in the way he looks at you, in the curve of his lips and the openness of his gaze.

“I have an idea,” he says, a little cryptically, and his smile turns mischievous. Childish, playful, and you chuckle.

“What is it?”

“I noticed your couch is tiny,” he says, motioning to said couch. “I thought…” He flushes red, before chuckling.

A blushing Jungkook is not a thing you imagined you would ever see someday.

“You thought?” you press on.

“I thought we could put all the cushions on the ground to make like a bed?”

It feels like you shouldn’t. Like you’re not supposed to be sleeping in the same bed as Jeon Jungkook. Especially not after what just happened outside – both the tub and the dance.

“Sure,” you agree nonetheless. “As long as you don’t steal all the blankets.”

He grins. “I would never.”

It’s cute, and it makes you gaze away.

Jungkook makes quick work of creating a bed for the two of you. You help him to move a coffee table away, and soon enough all the couch cushions form a mattress on the ground. You place the pillows you used last night on one end of it, and you’re sitting down just to test the makeshift bed when Jungkook throws the blankets on top of you.

“Jungkook!” you yelp, though you try to keep it to a minimum level so you won’t wake anyone.

He just laughs, and a few seconds later the room falls into darkness. While you’re disentangling yourself from the blankets, you hear a thump, and Jungkook lets out a series of curses that makes you burst out laughing, probably way too loud.

You don’t care.

“Fuck,” he finishes, and you can barely distinguish his silhouette when you’re free of the blankets.

“What happened?”

“I stubbed my toe,” he hisses through his teeth. “Fuck.”

You just laugh again, before moving until you’re on the side you chose for sleeping. “Just come here.”

“I was trying to,” he grumbles, and it sounds like he is pouting.

You’re starting to know him well enough that you know he is pouting.

Once you’re settled on your side of the bed, lying on your back staring up at the ceiling, Jungkook finally moves towards you. He lies on his side of the cushions, pulling a blanket over him. You both have your own blankets, so sleeping right next to each other doesn’t feel too indecent.

It takes your brain only three seconds before it produces an image of the hot tub, and you’re pretty sure the same thing just happened to Jungkook, because he chuckles lowly.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing.”

You frown in the darkness. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“Mmh.”

 You turn until you’re facing him. His silhouette is dark against the lighter background behind him, but you can barely make out his form next to you. You see it when he moves though, as he turns to face you too.

“What are you humming about?”

He chuckles. “Do you like cuddling?”

“You’re not going to get me to cuddle you,” you immediately reply, and you sound just as flustered as you feel.

“You grind on me in the hot tub and then you don’t even want to cuddle me? Outrageous.”

You scoff, and if you weren’t in the dark he’d see your cheeks turning scarlet. “We both know where cuddling would lead.”

His voice is husky when he speaks. “You think you can’t resist me?”

It makes the ‘never back down from a challenge’ part of you tickle until you find yourself replying, “I’ll be the big spoon”.

He snorts, but he turns until he’s facing away from you. You hesitate for a time, but you eventually move closer to him, until you’ve wrapped an arm around his stomach. You rest your forehead against his back, and you hope he can’t hear the loud beats of your heart.

His body is warm. Comfortably so, and you know you could drift to sleep easily just lying next to him like this.

Why then are you unable to fully close your eyes? Why then do you decide to move closer, until his ass is pressed against you? It makes you gulp, and some wild and foolish part of you wishes you could be under his skin.

You don’t think you could ever be close enough to him to satiate the hunger that’s forming in your core.

Jungkook moves his arm, and a second later he’s wrapping his hand around yours. You let him do it, and you’re surprised when he brings your hand up to press a light kiss on your knuckles.

You wish you were still drunk. Because then you could blame your next words on the alcohol.

“Actually, can you be the big spoon?”

He sounds like he’s smirking when he says, “Yeah, of course”.

A few seconds later the positions are reversed, and Jungkook molds his body to yours, wrapping his tattooed arm around your frame, putting his other one under your head. It fits too well, like it was meant to be, and maybe this moment really was always meant to be.

Maybe you were bound to hate him until you found yourself cuddled up to him in the dead of night at a cottage on the countryside.

“Your hair smells good,” Jungkook says, and he shifts impossibly closer. You feel his lips on your head as he inhales, and the arm around your waist tightens as he pulls you flush against him.

“Thank you,” you answer, breathlessly. Because you are breathless in his arms, you are breathless feeling all of his firm body against all of yours.

Breathless enough so that you shift, and your ass moves against him.

“Uh,” Jungkook lets out. He laughs a little, and his tattooed hand moves up until he’s brushing his thumb on the side of your jaw. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you want me to do?”

He thinks for a time. “What I want you to do and what you want seem to be two completely different things.”

It’s a little somber, the way he says it, and you bite your lip. Because he’s right, sort of. You’re not sure you want to have sex with him. But what started in the hot tub is bound to finish someday, is it not?

“You’re confusing me,” you admit. “You’ve been confusing me all weekend.”

His hand leaves your jaw, and he moves your hair out of the way as he leans. His lips press a tentative kiss on your neck, and your ass immediately shifts against him again.

“So have you,” he declares. “You’ve been confusing me for weeks.”

His revelation only makes you want him even more. And you’ve rarely wanted someone the way your body has been craving for Jungkook. Because that’s what it is: your body has been craving for him since the hot tub. And you’re about to succumb to your desires, aren’t you?

“Jungkook…”

He sucks on your skin, but not hard enough to leave a hickey. It still makes heat pool at your core, and you push your ass back against his dick once more.

“Fuck,” he curses. “We should go to sleep.”

Though this time he grinds against you, and you can feel the start of his erection on your ass.

“Right,” you agree.

And you move against him, earning a grunt from him. He murmurs your name, before saying, “I don’t have any condoms”.

All your nerves set on fire. “I don’t care.”

“We shouldn’t…” His sentence is cut short as you grind again, and he sinks his teeth in the soft skin of your neck. It hurts a little, and you know he’s going to leave another hickey on you as soon as he starts sucking.

Your hand shoots behind you, and you grab the back of his head, fingers getting lost in the strands of his hair. His own hand moves down until it settles on your hip, and he guides your movement against him.

He moves away from your neck, pressing a kiss on your shoulder this time. “We shouldn’t have sex,” he says, completing his previous sentence.

“I know.”

“We’re going to have sex,” he adds.

“I know.”

You circle your hips, and his erection is turning hard by the second. You’re soaking your panties, and you just want more of him. You want to get rid of all the fabric between you two and feel his skin directly against yours.

“Oh, Y/n…” he breathes, and then he’s back to kissing your neck.

No sucking this time, just his tongue drawing circles on your skin as you continue moving your ass against his dick.

“You’re already hard.”

“The hot tub got me real horny.”

It had the same effect on you, and you shiver as he bites at your ear. Gently, not to hurt, especially not as he presses a kiss under your ear next.

“Fuck,” you say.

His breathing is warm against the side of your face, and you decide to dive in. To say fuck it with what you should do and what you want to do. You only have one life to live anyway.

The moment your lips touch feels like a dam broke inside of you. Your tongue meets him halfway between your mouths, and he swallows the moan you let out as his fingers move under your shirt. You’re not wearing a bra, and the moan turns to a hiss as he pinches one of your nipples, rolling the sensitive bud between his thumb and index.

He pulls away from the kiss to say, “Can I take off your shorts?”

Because you’re wearing baby blue PJ shorts. Nothing really attractive, but it has no hindering effect on Jungkook’s desire for you, has it?

“Yes,” you answer and he’s back to kissing you in no time.

His fingers do quick work of the knot holding your shorts in place, and he immediately slides his hand in. He slides it under your panties too, and he starts rubbing circles on your clit right away.

You’re going to go insane. He’s worth going insane for.

You grind on his hand, and he moves lower so he can dip his middle finger and ring finger inside of you, up to the first knuckle, before pulling out and rubbing circles on your clit again. Your slick juice renders you oversensitive, and you buck your hips as he starts a hellish rhythm down there, with just the right pressure.              

It’s like he knows his way around your body already.

You try to reach between you, but the way his arm is positioned keeps you from being able to palm him. You whine and it makes him stop his ministrations on your clit.

“Is something wrong?”

“Take off your pants,” you tell him.

“Please?” he taunts you, as if he wants to let you know who’s in control here.

“Please,” you hiss through your teeth, because somehow it infuriates you.

“Good girl,” he praises with his low husky voice.

You’ve never been called a good girl before, and something in the way he says it makes you grind hard against him.

“You like that, uh?” he asks.

“Just take off the fucking pants, Jeon.”

He chuckles but obeys nonetheless. You take off your shorts at the same time, and think about it for half a second before you’re taking your panties off too.

Once you’re both naked from the waist down, you return to the previous cuddling position. Only this time his dick is resting against your ass, and from what you can tell, it really is big.

“Should I finger you to make sure you can take me?” he asks, but it’s rhetorical.

Indeed, he doesn’t wait for you to answer before he plunges two fingers inside of you, arching them to hit a spot inside of you that makes you see stars, shy constellations that add light to the darkness of the cottage. You find purchase on his forearm as he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of you, and he reaches deep inside of you. His palm hits your clit every time he pushes all the way in, and you’re starting to see a whole damn galaxy of stars in no time.

But you want to feel him, want to jerk him off while he’s making you feel good too. So you reach behind you, and this time you’re successful. You’re able to wrap your hand around his cock, and you moan at the feeling of the large girth.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

You moan, nodding your head. “It’s all for you.”

“Oh, I fucking know it is,” he says.

It’s cocky, but you’re too far gone to give him shit for it.

You start jerking him off, slowly because you can’t really move quicker in this position. He stills bucks his hips, fucking your hand, and he starts moving his fingers even faster, hitting your clit even harder.

“Fuck, please play with my clit,” you beg.

“Can’t say no when you ask so nicely,” he says, and he’s back to rubbing circles on your clit.

You clench around nothing as you jerk him off, before you decide to position his dick between your legs. You grind against him, or maybe he makes you grind. You don’t really know. All you can feel is the way his length moves against you. But he never aligns with your entrance, as if he just wants to tease you, and knowing him you’re pretty sure he does.

It stays like this for a while, with him just coating his dick with your slick juice as he keeps rubbing insistent circles on your clit. Your walls clench around nothing, and you whine as he just moves his hips back and forth.

“Fuck me, Jungkook,” you say.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks.

You just whine again.

“I want to hear you say it.”

He’s infinitely infuriating, isn’t he?

“Yes, I fucking want your dick inside of me.”

This time, when he pulls his hips away from you, he makes sure to align with your entrance before pushing forward. And he pushes forward hard, sheathing all of his dick inside of you. Or all of what fits inside of you, because you’re pretty sure he’s way too big to be able to entirely fit.

The moment he hits the back of your pussy you let out a moan. It’s loud, and you immediately put a hand on your mouth to muffle the next noises you’ll make. You think better of it after a few seconds, and you grab the blanket, rolling it in a messy bundle just so you can press it against your face.

“You feel so fucking tight,” he says, and then he grunts when your walls clench around him. “Just relax, baby.”

“I’m just so close,” you admit.

You don’t know when he stopped rubbing circles on your clit. Only know that he starts again now, and you feel the familiar knot of an orgasm starting to form deep in your core.

“Such a fucking good girl”, he praises. “You’re going to come all over my dick.”

You immediately hide your face in the blanket as you moan, unashamedly loud. And then he starts fucking into you, slow and hard, and you lose it. You lose it as the knot uncoils, snaps inside of you, turning every inch of your body into an oversensitive land of pleasure.

Jungkook fucks you through your high, steadily, never once faltering even as your walls pulse hard against him. His fingers keep on rubbing circles on your clit, and he kisses a spot on your neck that makes goosebumps erupt on all of you. It feels so good you could cry, but your high still just keeps on going. Even though you’re in the dark, your vision is white, blindly so.

You don’t know when your hand found its way to the side of his face, only that once you finally come down you have a handful of his hair in your grip.

“That didn’t take long,” Jungkook teases, whispering the words directly into your ear.

He’s not wrong. You don’t think you’ve ever come as hard and quick as you just did.

“Holy fuck,” you mutter.

He has stilled inside of you, and his lips are littering small kisses on your neck. So you feel his smirk against you, and it makes you move. Circling your hips, trying to give him something in return for the orgasm he’s gifted you.

“You’re going to let me come inside of you, mmh?” he asks as you keep on going, a little sloppily from the remnants of your orgasm.

“You think you can come for me?” You’re embarrassingly breathless, still panting because of your high. You take a deep breath as you prop yourself up on an elbow, just so it’s easier to fuck yourself on him.

Jungkooks hums. “I need a little more than that, baby.”

You bite your lips as his tattooed hand finds your breast under your shirt again. “What do you want me to do?”

“Ride me?” he suggests, right as he plants a soft peck on your shoulder.

You moan as he fucks into you hard, unexpectedly. “Anyone could see.”

He whines, but then his hand moves to your hip before he starts pounding into you again. You hide your face in the blanket again, trying to muffle your sounds. Jungkook is not faring a lot better than you, and his grunts send shivers all over you. He doesn’t talk again until he’s slowed down.

“They can already see us.”

He’s not wrong, and you hate it. But you doubt someone will get up at this hour of the night, closer to the morning than to yesterday. He pushes in once more, hard and rough.

“Fuck,” he curses, and he entirely stops moving.

He even pulls out, and you turn to look at him. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark a little now, and you can see his features enough to see him wincing in pain.

“Is something wrong?” you immediately ask.

“My leg hurts.”

His three words fall softly in the night, the way a feather falls. It shifts the atmosphere, making your heart ache in your chest.

“Oh, Jungkook…”

“Ride me,” he says, and it sounds begging.

As if he needs it to forget the pain. You don’t think you have it in you to refuse, so you straddle him. Before you sink on his dick, you lean down to press a kiss to his lips, hoping to chase the pain away. Your hands hold you up on his shoulders, and his move to your hips, before sliding down until he’s holding your ass in his large palms. He massages the muscles of your ass as you kiss, tongues meeting in a deep and languid dance.

When you’re out of breath, lungs burning for oxygen, you straighten and sit on his dick. You circle your hips, teasing him a little and also making sure that he’s still hard. He is, his dick a rod of steel, and you bite at your lower lip as you grab him with one hand to align him with your entrance. He’s looking through half-lidded eyes as you do so, and his eyes shut as you sink all the way down on him, until his dick reaches your cervix.

His mouth falls open and he moans softly. It’s a pretty sound, meant for your ears only, and it makes you feel powerful. You feel powerful as you move up and down, slowly, feeling every vein of his dick on your walls. You clench as you sink back down, and his hands on your ass tighten their hold for a few seconds before he moves to your hips to guide you.

He makes you go faster, and as if he can’t resist he’s soon fucking up into you.

You put a hand on his cheek, brushing his cheekbone with a thumb. His eyes flutter open and he stills, seeing the look on your face.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I can do the work, don’t hurt your leg,” you tell him. You grab his hands from your hips to move them to your breasts under your shirt. And then you start moving, for real this time, quick and hard. You add a little bit of circling of your hips, just to make sure he stretches you wide.

And he does. Jungkook is huge, and you don’t wonder why he’s so cocky anymore. He’s got the kind of dick to be cocky about.

“Alright then,” Jungkook lets out between two soft moans.

You smirk, but it dies when one of his hands moves from your breast to your neck through the collar of your shirt. You grab his forearm, and your eyes flutter shut as he digs his fingers in your arteries, cutting the blood supply to your brain. It feels good, far more than it should, as all you can feel is his dick in you.

You let out a breathy sound, walls clenching on him again.

“That’s it, baby, you’re so good,” he praises, and he sounds different than he did before.

He’s more out of breath, as if he’s exhausted. And maybe he is, as he’s nearing his orgasm. It only encourages you more, and your nails dig in his forearm, hard enough to mark him.

“Fuck,” he curses, and he releases his hold on your neck. His hand doesn’t move, but it’s now just resting on your throat, and he’s not squeezing anymore.

“Fill me up, JK,” you say. “I want to feel you come inside of me.”

“Let me fuck you a little,” he replies. And he pulls you down by the neck, until he’s satisfied with the angle.

You want to say something about his leg but he’s already pounding into you, so hard your face falls in the crook of his neck as your hands get lost in his hair. Your lips meet his skin, and you suck hard, fully intending to leave a mark there. At this point you’re pretty convinced someone’s ought to know you’re fucking anyway, so why not show that he’s yours?

The thought sobers you up. But Jungkook is already coming, so you hold on strong sucking another spot on his neck as he groans and releases ropes and ropes of his cum inside of you. And he comes a lot, painting your insides white. You like it far more than you should.

Another thought to sober you up.

It takes Jungkook a little longer before he finally stops moving, and he lets out a content sigh as he wraps his arms around your waist to hold you close.

“We should have done this before,” he murmurs.

You try to sit up, but he keeps you from moving. “We shouldn’t have done this.” Even as you’re saying that you press another kiss to his neck. A soft one, just because he tastes too good, and you know the moment is about to come to an end.

“Uh?” he lets out.

His dick is still deep inside of you when you say, “We shouldn’t have fucked”.

He pushes you away now. Not hard, but it’s like your touch burns him and he needs to be away from you.

“Why?”

You sit next to him, and your cheeks burn as you feel his seed spill out of you, only to stain the blanket you previously used to muffle your moans.

“We’re barely even friends,” you point out.

He’s not watching you. His eyes are fixed on an empty spot on the cushionless couch next to which you’re laying. “Okay?”

“It’s just weird, no?”

You reckon you don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know why you decided to say it right now either. It’s as if the words just need to get out.

“It’s just sex,” he says, and it sounds a little angry. “People have sex all the time.”

“But not us. You know, I don’t like you like that.”

A big fat lie if you’ve ever said one. You did like having sex with him. You’re just panicking, your fight or flight instinct having been suddenly triggered.

“Chill, Y/n,” he mutters, and he sighs heavily. “We just fucked. We can pretend nothing happened, if that’s what you want.”

You don’t know what you want. Some part of you wants to take the evening back, but at the same time not. You’re confusing to yourself, and your teeth dig in the tip of your tongue for a moment as you think.

“What would you want to say this is?” you ask after a little too long for the silence to be comfortable.

He finally looks at you. “Nothing, honestly. We just got horny and we’re the only single people here, it was bound to happen.”

Now, his words hurt a little, but you can see the truth behind them. “Right,” you say. “So, just friends?”

He holds your gaze. It’s too dark for you to be able to interpret anything on his features. “Sure.”

You feel bad. Remorseful. And you think about the hot tub, and the fucking too, but also about the dance outside. You reckon your fight or flight was triggered then, you’ve just been ignoring it ever since you came in.

Ever since you got out of the bathroom to see Jungkook and his softness. The softness is gone now, and he looks away from you before sitting up too. He searches around for his pants, and puts them on as you scan the scene for your own clothes.

“Can you…” you start, but he’s already throwing your shorts and panties at you.

He’s pissed. It’s evident now, clear as spring water, and you feel even worse. You didn’t want to upset him. There’s just too much history between you, too much individual history on your part too.

You’ve never been in a relationship. You’ve never been able to even imagine being in a relationship. And it usually leads to scenes like this: the men you sleep with getting upset with you. You don’t blame them, can’t blame them.

But it feels different with Jungkook. Worse, as if you don’t want the outcome to be him being upset with you. You just don’t know anything else, and so you put your clothes on. Even as he gets up to go clean up in the bathroom, muttering that he’ll be right back.

Even as he comes back and settles on the makeshift bed again, his back turned to you. The message is clear then: he doesn’t want to talk to you. You reckon you can always talk to him tomorrow. Can always let the night pass, and with it the fight or flight. It’s not like he’s going to be gone tomorrow, and you won’t be either.

You get up, sighing heavily as you go to the bathroom to clean up too.

 Jungkook is dead silent when you come back. If he was asleep, you know he would be snoring softly, as last night showed you. But no, he’s dead silent, as if he’s just ruminating in his corner.

It makes you feel too bad to remain silent.

“Jungkook,” you let out softly, his name barely over a whisper.

“Mmh?” he hums.

“I’m sorry if I upset you.”

He sighs, long and deep, before turning on his back. “Don’t worry about it.”

He’s stupid if he thinks telling you so will make it so you don’t worry. You’re always worrying anyway.

“Okay,” you still say. “It was great though, don’t take me wrong.”

He chuckles, and it’s bitter. “Listen, if you want us to pretend like it never happened, let’s start right now.”

He’s closed off. He was open earlier, a book for you to read. Maybe you’ve ripped the pages away, or maybe you’ve thrown the book off a cliff.

But it’s safer this way. It’s safer to keep Jungkook at an arm’s length. It’s where you keep everyone besides Jiho anyway.

“Okay, sorry,” you apologize. “Good night?”

He sighs once more. “Yeah, good night.” And then he turns away, and it hits you.

You won’t ever be the one to see Jungkook’s softness again.

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.............................. please don't hate me <3 how was this chapter? How was the smut? I hope it hit good haha! Let me know what you thought!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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[anki-of-beleriand]

A heart Made of Glass ch.12

Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.

Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision

Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, smut, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol. More tags as the story progess.

Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story, I did all the tags you guys ask for but if I forgot someone please do not hesitate to tell me. Thank you for the support.

Okay, this chapter had some tricks in it that are surronding Reader and Wanda, this is their story and this time around Reader would need to make the right decision if she wants to get what she wants and what she needs.

Please, do remember English is no my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 Chpter 12 - Chapter 13

Chapter 12

In a different world

The universe started with a spark of bright golden light.

Loki Odinson had seen it several times, he had witnessed the birth and death of multiple universes and timelines that were destined to perish in a myriad of colours that would soon be forgotten. He had sat on the throne, and while he was not a King himself, he could recall the faces of all of those poor souls that disappeared into the nothingness, just as he could remember the beauty behind the first spark of life.

However, what he was experimenting right now was nothing like it.

Whatever, or whoever had decided to intervene had messed up with his own spell and everything had exploded into nothingness. A single spark of red, green and golden then, nothingness. Black spaces that disappeared without any traces left behind.

Loki started at the empty space that was Wanda and Y/N’s basement before he sighed. He sat down shaking his head, a headache approaching just as he thought on the oncoming conversation he would need to sustain with the Avengers.

“Fuck.” The word rolled out of his lips in such a natural way, he could do nothing but leaned back against the wall.

What the hell just happened?

What did he do?

What did Wanda and Y/N do to get this reaction?

The silence soon became deafening, Loki located the book Strange had died trying to recover. He frowned while leaning over to pick it up, the spell was done correctly with all the right wording as well as the right drawings on the ground. So, why did it go wrong? His eyes scanned the pages, re-reading the passages over and over until his heart dropped at one particular line, something he had overlooked the very first time he read that passage.

“…this, however, may be counterproductive if there is a magical or multiversal energy interference, the amount of energy converging at one point may created an unexpected result and…”

Loki knew the rest by heart, he knew there could be troubles but…well, how many energies were involved in the spell? He had counted on those signatures coming from Wanda and Y/N, he had even counted on his but…was there anybody else out there? Was there anybody else at the other side of the multiverse?

“Shit.” Loki stood up fixing up his clothes before flickering his hand to open a portal. He needed to face the consequences of his acts, and the first stop would be the Avengers Tower and Steve Roger’s office.

The former Captain America was going to enjoy telling Loki ‘I told you so’, just before hitting him in the face.

With one last glance to the basement, Loki turned around and left the place.

He never worried to test the energy fields around, or to tap into the timelines flickering in front of his eyes. It never occurred to him that, as soon as the explosion happened, a new singular timeline appeared right before his eyes just to blend itself with the other timelines flickering in front of Loki.

No one but the Watcher could see it, The Watcher stood in the sidelines furrowing his brows and waiting.

The world would either collapse in itself, or it would fix the anomalies by itself.

Either way, he was watching history, and the future of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

_________________________________________

Darkness had always been your friend.

You were born in it, and it had been your weapon and your refugee in the hardest of times. That was the main reason you didn’t panic at first, everything around you was filled with the purest form of darkness with a single touch of coldness that sneaked inside your clothes. The hairs on your arms stood up, a shiver went right through your muscles making you groan as you finally experience the pain in your body.

Your mouth opened inhaling deeply filling your lungs with gusts of cold air, your chest contracting itself just before you started coughing. It was then you opened your eyes, and the darkness that you had experienced moments ago was nothing but you woke up from unconsciousness.

The first thing you noticed were different white dots in the sky winking back at you. You tried to grasp a single thought, seeking around your mind for a coherent idea but it was almost impossible to do so when the rest of your body was finally receiving different stimulus in the way of pain and coldness.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice called to your left, you tried to sit up but a single hand placed itself on your shoulder pressing you to the ground.

“Ease there, pal, you were really hurt back there.”

Even if you didn’t get a chance to sit up, your world started spinning around. The voice was so familiar, yet so different to what you were used to; with some reluctance you turned your face to the right and soon you found yourself looking at yourself.

The other woman offered a tentative smile, though the way she was squinting her eyes and the pursed of her lips told you she was just as confused as you were at the moment. Soft footsteps approached you, America Chavez was wearing a single cut on her cheek and a bruised eye, this time around you didn’t let you counterpart to stop you, you sat up to check over the teen kneeling beside you.

“America, are you alright?” Your eyes rolled back for a moment, your knees fell harshly on the ground while you held yourself with a single hand placed on your leg.

“Y/N, please…” America winced lightly glancing at you then at your counterpart. “I think you were the one that suffered the most…”

“It was my fault, actually. So, sorry?”

You blinked a couple of times, shaking your head made the headache worse and the dizziness settled on your lower abdomen. You lifted your face blinking a couple of times before checking America over, the young woman softened her features with her cheeks colouring pink while her lips tried to offer a single smile. You tried to ignore the other Y/N for as long as you could before turning around to settle your eyes on her.

Just like America, she was wearing a single cut on her forehead with her clothes dishevelled but otherwise nothing else. With some reluctance you lifted your eyes looking deep into those eyes that you knew so well.

“This is the weirdest shit I have ever had to live to date.” You finally said shaking your head, “I hope it is the last weird shit ever.”

“Agreed.” Y/N tilted her head furrowing her brows while giving you a quick glance. “Before this happened, I’m afraid I was in your body fighting with someone that got lucky…so…”

“So, that’s why I feel like this?” You cracked smile, your counterpart nodded mirroring the smile on your face. “Okay, got it, so…what the hell is going on?”

America and Y/N glanced at one another then at you, it wasn’t until then that you decided to take a good look at the surrounding area. The place in itself was nothing strange, yet you got a feeling that this was not your universe or even that of your counterpart.

The sky was completely dark filled stars but as you got to observe them above your head you realized there were not your stars. The constellations you had come to know thanks to Natasha and Carol had been changed and were replaced by different forms you did not recognize. With a single frown you lowered your eyes to find yourself in a plain of land filled with dried grass that extended beyond what the eyes could see. It was an empty land, with nothing beyond the darkness of the night without any moon it was hard to actually see something that could give you an idea of your location.

The sound of whistling called your attention, and soon you found yourself being wrapped tightly by two pair of arms. Before you could protest or ask what they were doing, you experience the sharp bite of wind, A cold, merciless breeze that soon turned into a whirlwind that left as suddenly as it had come.

“Wh-what the hell?” Your eyes opened wide, your teeth chattering while America and Y/N leaned back wincing.

“We need to move.”

You furrowed your brows shaking your head, “move where? I can barely see you two, how are we going to see the path or…where the hell are we?”

America sighed standing up, she stretched her hand to you offering a tender smile.

“You haven’t figured it out?”

You stood on weakened legs, your mouth opened ready to protest until you finally realised it. While it was true there was nothing much to see beyond the darkness and the starry night, you could see America and your counterpart just fine. It took you but a few minutes until, you lifted your hand and the shadows followed you giving you a good glance of what was around you.

“We can manipulate shadows, the night in itself is darkness and filled with the main source of our power.” Y/N stated matter-of-factly while standing before you, you nodded curtly feeling foolish for not even thinking about it.

“Are you guys going to tell me what’s going on?”

America grabbed your hand, then turning to Y/N she shrugged also grabbing her hand as well.

“We may as well update her while we continue walking.”

“We saw lights coming from what we think was a village a few kilometres away, were trying to get there until these weird whirlwinds came in and we couldn’t carry you anymore.” Y/N explained shrugging. “We’re guessing once we get to some sort of place filled with civilization we will know more…”

“Why didn’t you try to travel through the shadows?” You asked ready to do so when the warning tone from your own voice stopped you.

“I couldn’t do it without leaving America here, and I have a bad feeling as soon as I tried it…so…” Y/N shrugged looking ahead of her, “I always follow my instincts, they have never failed me.”

The comment sent a sharp pain straight to your heart.

Your instincts had never failed you either.

Nothing else was said after this, the three of you were following the direction America had pointed out but you were just lost not really knowing if this was the right path or just a wild guess. The temperature was dropping even more, soon your teeth were chattering alongside those of America and the other you. You felt a sharp pain through your head, whatever had happened before you woke up had left your body quite bruised and right now all you wanted was to find a bed, an analgesic and something to eat. For a brief moment, an intrusive thought came forward in the form of Wanda, panic rose through your chest and filled your mind but before you could ask anything about her your counterpart spoke.

“I still don’t understand how everything came to be,” she spoke with a tone of voice you were familiar with, you let your eyes wandered around the landscape holding onto every word resounding into the darkness of the night.”

“I remembered when Wanda and I saved America the first time, and then trying to safe her from these creatures chasing her down.” Y/N trailed off with her memories making her falter, with a single shake of her head she continued, “I know I was out for a while, so you can guess how surprised I was to wake up in the arms of someone that wasn’t my wife…”

“Not really.” Your reply was filled with coldness, tension building up in your body, “I have always had the luxury of waking up alone in my bed.”

America winced lifting her head to glance at you, her dark eyes begging you to listen before jumping in whatever discussion you wanted to start.

“Agatha Harkness.” The name reached the inside of your mind with the memory of the file you read on her, not only that, but also the different videos you saw surrounding her story inside of Wanda’s world.

“That was the woman you woke up to every day, Y/N.” America chimed in shyly, she lowered her gaze squeezing your hand tenderly. “She had been dragging Scarlet and Wanda around, draining them of their powers and leaving them defenceless for quite some time, and since…well, since Y/N was under her spell…”

You opened your mouth to speak, you wanted to say something but finding your counterpart’s eyes on you whatever argument you had built inside your mind came crumbling down and soon you were given their side of their story.  Little by little the story started making sense, the building of a different world and the intrusive dreams you were having in the last couple of weeks, the purple and red magic surrounding you on that day as well as the mixed-up realities that ended up with you thrown into another’s body. You had always known that Wanda was special, and powerful, you never imagined just how much.

America had been a part of the plan, of course. Her powers would be very beneficial to someone like Agatha, and your powers would make sure no one would ever find her. Everything was about the most basic reason of all: Power. You pursed your lips disgusted; you were dragged into a confrontation with Wanda because there was a woman chasing after power. You had been running from Wanda for more than ten years, and all it took was this woman to ruin everything.

And now, now you were walking down the darkness of the night with a girl that could travel through different universes and your counterpart, a woman that got the life you had dreamt of a long time ago.

“Life is not fair.” Y/N stated glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes, “but it is what we have, and we must…”

“…deal with it, take what it is being offered and try to be happy with it.” You finished shaking your head.

“Ah, so not everything is lost, I see.” Y/N allowed a single smile to break on her face, you pursed your lips snorting.

“You don’t know the story.”

“But she does, that’s why she told you those very same words, didn’t she?” Your counterpart stopped all of a sudden, you let out a heavy sigh before turning to face her.

America was standing in between the both of you, her brows knitted together with her gaze travelling around the terrain before settling on the both of you.

“Look, I know that you and Wanda had a different experience than mine, I’m glad you did because…” You trailed off holding onto your emotions, “I don’t wish on you the pain I went through…”

For the very first time ever you saw your own face breaking into a broken-hearted smile, with those eyes losing all light and those lips curving into a crooked smile. It was you looking back, and you understood right there and then that you weren’t the only one.

“You forgive her?” You asked with a hint of hope in your voice, you hated how the question left your lips and how your counterpart understood what you meant.

“How could I not if my heart beats for her?” She replied clenching her eyes closed, her hands rested upon your shoulders before you found yourself looking into your eyes. “There is a difference, though, isn’t it?”

“You guys were not together…” You started but she merely tilted her head.

“You know it wouldn’t matter if we were a couple or not, she chose someone else when we have always chosen her.” Y/N squeezed your shoulders lightly. “The difference is that I gave her a chance because I want to do so, you didn’t because…”

“I don’t believe in second chances! If I have done so she would have broken my heart all over again when she went into her imaginary world with Vision!” You exclaimed enraged, surprising Y/N and America.

The other woman furrowed her brows, she was ready to argue back with you and asked questions about the imaginary world. It was quite evident a lot of things had happened in this strange world and Y/N could only imagine the pain and rage engulfing your heart at the moment.

America could see darkness surrounding the three of you her eyes opening wide almost losing into the shadows until her eyes caught glimpses of red and purple right ahead.

“Guys?” America stuttered lifting her hand and pointing to the distance.

You two stopped your discussion turning around to see the same sparkles of red and purple. It was a formation of dusty colouring breaking into the darkness of the night sky, you turned to the left to see Y/N frowning with determination and America shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

“It’s not that far away, I mean it could be at least one kilometre?” Y/N faced you holding onto the previous tension of your conversation with her, you clenched your fist shrugging.

“Looks that way.”

“Are we…” America started but you lifted a hand to silence her.

“Before we jump in to do something I think we need more information, we don’t even know what we are going to find over there.” You looked out of the corner of your eyes; the lights were still gleaming pretty much intensely but you could tell your two companions didn’t want to stay still and do any planning.

“What do you propose?” Y/N asked lifting her chin, “you know pretty well those sparks of crimson are Wanda’s, and we know this woman, this Agatha has been using purple magic. Are you really suggesting we stand here or keep walking in circles?”

“No! All I am asking is to first think about what we are going to do! We’re not even sure where we are much less what we are going to find there.” You asked back lifting your hands in the air and stepping back, the pain you had forgotten in favour of the discussion came back making you winced.

“Look I know you guys think the world of Wanda, and that’s cool, I guess your Wanda,” this time around you pointed to your counterpart trying to remain calm, “she is all love and kindness and that’s fine. The Wanda in world had a total breakdown that enslaved a bunch of people in a reality she created for herself and that microwave she called husband, so forgive me if I’m not going to jump in without any additional information.”

Your tirade echoed through the night, your voice carried by the wind with a dropped in the temperature. The moon that had been travelling with the three of you flickered all of a sudden, and the darkness grew around the three of you. America didn’t miss the flickering lights of crimson and purple, but she couldn’t stop herself from grabbing your hand in hers, the warm she shared with you made you shivered and with some reluctance you lower you stare to her. Even in such a darkness you could see her brown eyes gleaming with emotions.

“You still love her.” America mumbled squeezing your hand tenderly.

You clenched your jaw tilting your head to the side, America bit her lower lip glancing from you to Y/N.

“I don’t know why this has to be so complicated, but she needs you.” America took a deep breath stepping closer to you. “Wanda is sad, and I know she messed up and that forgiveness should not be given just because you feel that way. But she really needs you, she and Scarlet.”

“Look, I don’t know what happened between the both of you.” Y/N stepped in making sure you could not look away from your own eyes. “But the woman I love is out there, being it in this dimension or another Wanda Maximoff would always be MY Wanda and I won’t leave her out there to get hurt. If not for you, then at least do it for me.”

It was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by darkness and coldness that your heart finally gave in. With a nod, your dropped your shoulders in defeat missing the smile coming from America but never missing the satisfied glance coming from your counterpart. The three of you finally turned to the source of the magic, and without a simple plan you three started making your way to the source.

You were not prepared for what was waiting for you over there.

Agatha Harkness smirked at the woman kneeling before her.

In less than a year she had made it possible to crumble away the legend of the Scarlet Witch while placing herself as the most powerful witch in the multiverse. Her smile never faltered, not even when the world spined around changing into a familiar setting; a place and time Agatha had suffered before but that now she could alter with a single flicker of her hand.

The place was filled with passersby ignoring the presence of the two women; nobody seemed to care that one of them was on her knees with a single neck shackle made of light red and blue tied to a crimson necklace Agatha wore on her chest.

“What do you think about this arrangement, dear?” The dark-haired woman asked, her eyes dropping to the kneeling Wanda who was shooting her a stare filled with anger. “Personally, I think this could be more lively, but don't worry soon enough we will have a show to die for.”

Her laughter was accompanied by a flash of violet, and soon the scene changed and they were transferred to a great marketplace located at the centre of the village. Everyone had reunited around four pillared pyres that were guarded by at least ten knights all dressed in black.

Wanda lifted her face, her ears twitched hearing the sound of angry screams cursing someone she couldn't make out yet. Agatha stirred in excitement; her smile grew until it was a crooked grin with just a hint of madness behind it.

“Here they come…”

The crowd spread around just as four figures came in walking on naked feet wearing red robes and bruised faces. The hatred and fear coming from the crowd was quite evident as the torches and the pitchforks drew wild patterns above the townspeople’s heads. The light of the torches ignited the night, Wanda tensed under the grip of the woman standing beside her, the hairs on her arms raising up while her eyes narrowed to follow the events unfolding in front of her.

The four women were pushed forward, each one of them had a single knight standing behind them with heavy hands they were dragged to the four pillars tied to them facing the crowd. It didn’t take her too long to guess what was about to happen, and what exactly were those pillars; the pyres had been set up to ensure everyone could see the women died. The crowd cheered cruelly, laughing and cursing while the four women glared at the people with more bravery than they actually felt. 

“This was my coven.” Agatha spat out, her hands sparkling with a mixture of red and purple, “they saw my power, they read my intentions and instead of supporting me they dared to try and stop me…”

“I wonder why.” Wanda couldn’t hold the sarcasm behind her voice, Agatha pulled harshly on the ropes holding her neck making Wanda fall on her back.

“You really are more daring than your counterparts, dear. I would be careful, if I were to be honest I don’t need you alive.” 

Agatha caressed the necklace smirking at Wanda, the woman couldn’t hide her anger and the magic that was pulsating inside her was not enough to protect her from Agatha’s anger. Soon Wanda let out a scream of pain, her body twitching painfully until he couldn’t keep her eyes open and all she could think about was the searing pain on her limbs.

“It has been so long since I was just a lowly witch like them, afraid of fire and the angry crowd. I grew to be magnificent, to have power beyond anyone’s imagination…” Agatha continued with his rambling observing with gleaming eyes as the Major of the town stood forward proclaiming the sins of the four women.

“I just had to find you, Wanda, you and that so-called Scarlet Witch.” Wanda took a deep breath, half hearing the woman while watching with horror as the night above her head flickered from one setting to another.

“It was not easy, you know?”

Agatha flickered her hand to the right and soon Wanda was on her knees watching as the world around her changed. It was like watching a movie in a dome. The world changed to day and night flickering images of Agatha dragging her burnt body through the ground whispering spells that only she could hear. The image soon changed showing the passing of time, Agatha looking around the world and stealing the magic of others while seeking something out of desperation.

She finally found it after more than a century.

Wanda opened her eyes at the familiar setting, Kamar Taj stood under stormy winds and heavy snow. Agatha sneaked around, distracting the inhabitants of the temple by provoking landslides that would certainly have killed innocent people if it hadn’t been by the protectors of the temple. She had enough time to steal a single book.

“Y-you…you stole the..th-e…the Drakhold.” Wanda leaned forward resting her hands on the ground, she was shocked to find the snow under her hands was real and that everything she was seeing was not an illusion but a real event.

Her mind was trying to comprehend what was really happening. Her knowledge of the Darkhold had not been as broad as it had been for Strange and even Loki. But she did know one thing or two about the origins of her powers, Chaos Magic had been called and it gave her the power to bend reality and life in ways not many could access to. The darkness inside her had been contained by her family and her loved ones, but the same could not be said by others, apparently.

“I did.” Agatha finally answered tilting her head, soon the scene changed and they were taken to a place Wanda was familiar with.

Westview.

“Yet, I was still not strong enough, or the only one with powers beyond our imaginations.” Agatha made a face, stepping forward strolling down the streets with Wanda following her. “When the Avengers showed up it was quite evident that people with powers could no longer be hidden. It was my time to shine until you, my dear Wanda, showed up.”

Wanda saw herself in a building in Sokovia, it was a place she was familiar with yet the story that was unfolding in front of her had nothing to do with what she had lived once. Her other self struggled to control her powers, to live her life, to be who she was supposed to be but failed every single time. Agatha had never been too far from those events, and whenever Wanda failed, Agatha would clutch the young woman closer to her. The red and purple magic intertwined without anyone noticing.

“What did you do?” Wanda asked, finding herself in the middle of the square in Westview. It was a beautiful day, with the sun shining right above their heads and not a single cloud in sight. 

Agatha smirked, her eyes changing colours to one of deep crimson, “I finally became who I am supposed to be, and soon my dear I will have all the power to bend the universes at my will. And now, I will finish what I started all those months ago with your pathetic counterpart and you will help me out with this.”

The world suddenly exploded around them, Wanda clenched her jaw closed, lifting her eyes to the sky to see the runes above her head.

“You…” She gritted her teeth, her eyes closing right away trying to gather her thoughts and power to stop the woman standing beside her.

Agatha chuckled darkly, her gripped on Wanda tightened allowing the influx of memories to invade the mind of the redhead. It was a life she was no familiar with, a suffering she had not experiment in the same way but that generate in her an understanding of the mess this world was in. She could see the moment Agatha entered the story, the failures and the almost victories until finally she got what she wanted.

A weakened Wanda Maximoff without anyone in the world to stand by her side.

Power.

And a way to get away with her plan.

“You…you won’t win.” Wanda finally got out; her eyes gleaming dangerously at the other woman who made a face rolling her eyes.

“I already did, dear. You just haven’t realized it yet.” Agatha let go of Wanda stepping away.

The brunette straightened up lifting her arms in front of her, her hands creating a purple mist while the necklace she wore zealously around her neck gleamed with intensity. Those eyes that moment’s ago had been brown, were now a deep black and the world around Wanda trembled under the electric shift of power the witch was gathering around her.

“Now, I have all the pieces in place, in my world…under my rules.” Agatha stated tilting her head to the side, “I will bend everyone to my will…and you, Wanda, will be nothing but a bad memory.”

The sky above their heads changed into darkness, the temperature dropped and Wanda felt the heavy weight of the atmosphere overwhelming her. She could sense her counterpart weakening inside the prison Agatha had chosen for her, her thoughts were still a mixture of memories she couldn’t quite place while the heavy emotions running through her soul threaten to overwhelm. Wanda could read the intentions behind the woman standing before her, she could read the hatred and violence behind those dark eyes. Lifting her chin to the sky, and her eyes showing off her own magic she decided if this was going to be her end, she would face it with defiance.

The ball of energy flickered in Agatha’s hand, the world stood still and the with smirked ready to give the final blow.

Agatha was so concentrated in her final goal, she never noticed she was no longer alone and what she though was illusions of her own invention were actually three people she didn’t think would be a problem until one of them stood right in front of her shielding Wanda from an imminent dead.

You had crossed the protective barrier around the strange town with a single thought in mind. Your intention was to get this over with and go back to your life on Norway, your heart beating fast while your mind protest for the easiness in which you were trying to go back to a life in which you were ignoring the woman that had never left your heart. It looked easy, just do your thing and then fixed whatever mess you were in and then…go back.

But the universe and the Powers That Be decided that it wouldn’t be just as easy as a flickered of your hand.

As soon as the three of you crossed the barrier you were face to face with flashes of memories that presented you with a film of the lives of Wanda and Agatha. The stories of the coven and the search for power, as well as the fall of Sokovia and Wanda’s struggles with her powers and her life.

“This is so wrong.” Y/N stated clenching her fist while stepping forward until she was finally standing beside you, the both of you stood on an empty street hearing the sounds of muffled conversation.

“Any plan?” You finally stated ignoring the piercing pain in your heart, your counterpart shrugged nodding to the darkened street that was flashing a mixture of red and purple.

“I think the best approach is a straightforward one.”

“Humph, so go there and just start fighting?” You replied with your lips breaking into a single smirk.

“Yep, pretty much.”

“That doesn’t sound like a solid plan.” America mumbled unsure, she furrowed her brows turning to you and then to your counterpart.

You turned to America placing a hand on her shoulder, “but it is what we have. You are going to stay here and wait.”

“But…I can fight! I can help!” America stepped back frowning, “I won’t be left behind…”

“I know you can fight, kiddo.” You replied tilting your head, “and that’s why you are staying behind.”

America opened her mouth to protest but Y/N came forth shaking her head.

“You are our backup, America. If anything were to happen to us and Wanda…” Y/N stated dropping her gaze for a moment, she turned to you until finally she locked eyes with America. “You need to do anything you can to ensure Agatha won’t scape, you understand?”

America pursed her lips, a part of her understood the mission but another part wanted to go straight ahead and face the woman that had been chasing her through the multiverse. America clenched her fists before nodding curtly and stepping back. You offered a single smile, your hand squeezing comfortingly the shoulder of the teen.

“There would be time, America, for now just watch our backs.”

“I will.”

“Good then, let’s go.”

You nodded curtly allowing your powers to spread in front of you, there was resistance when trying to reach the shadows and for the very first time you understood what your counterpart meant about your instinct. Everything in your body was screaming danger as soon as you came into contact with the shadows, your body shivered under the piercing weight of a million needles. You clenched your jaw closed stepping into the shadows with a single thought in mind.

Wanda.

Without any hesitation and moving through the invisible obstacles in that universe you appeared right before Wanda and Agatha just in time. Your eyes went black with your right arm lifting in front of you and creating a protective barrier just as Agatha’s hand came into contact with your shadows.

There was a flickering of power, the older woman snarled a curse lifting her left arm in the same fashion and launching a second attack. Your eyes opened slightly only for your shadows to slithered away grabbing the woman’s midsection to pull her away.

The world crumbled for an instant; Agatha was completely shocked to see not only you but your counterpart standing right in front of her. The woman straightened up, sweat rolling down her forehead while her right hand closed around her necklace and her other hand summoned the Darkhold.

“You really are a pain in my behind, but at least I won’t have to go around looking for you.” Agatha stated tilting her head to the side, her annoyance giving way to a confident smile. “Now, how about the two of you are good girls and give up, I would hate to spend my time submitting you to get what I want.”

You spread your feet positioning yourself in a fighting pose, your eyes narrowing slightly while the woman in front of you got her magic ready. But before Agatha could do anything at all, another set of shadows grabbed her arms putting them back making her woman lose her grip on the necklace and the Darkhold, your body tensed when Wanda stood up behind you, her voice quivering slightly as she pronounced your name with reverence and love.

“Hey, I hope you didn’t forget about me, Agatha dear.” Your counterpart said winking at Wanda while flickering her hands away, Agatha grunted freeing herself with a blast of energy and stepping a few feet away.

“Hn, I didn’t expect this.” She stated summoning the Darkhold, the world around the four of you changed, shaping itself in a familiar setting you had come to hate in your mind.

Westview.

Agatha never wavered in her confidence, if anything it seemed to grow the same way her magic was doing at the moment. You took a fighting stance, your shadows flickering around waiting for your command. You glanced out of the corner of your eye, Wanda had been trying to stand up but her knees and feet seemed uncooperative. Before you could offer any help, your counterpart came in wrapping her arms around Wanda while placing her forehead against Wanda’s one.

“Hey, love.”

“Hi.” Wanda replied with easiness, Y/N sighed in relief before placing a single kiss on her wife’s cheek.

“I miss you.” Y/N said softly, your heart shrank with emotion when your mind caught up with what was really happening.

You furrowed your brows, sweeping around the place until your darkened eyes fell on Agatha who was smiling playfully at you, her right hand playing absentmindedly with the necklace.

“Where is…Wanda?” The question left your lips before you could stop it, Wanda and Y/N both glanced at one another before they set their eyes on you.

A sinking feeling settled on your lower stomach, you were afraid of the answer when you realized this Wanda was trying to look everywhere but you. Tilting your head, you finally got a good look at your surroundings where the suburban houses filled out the imaginary world; the Wanda you had come to know from another universe held onto your counterpart tightly though right now her green eyes had been focusing straight ahead of you.

“Where is she? Wanda?” You asked again, this time around there was a demanding undertone that the other woman couldn’t ignore.

“Agatha has them under her control, she is using a powerful and dangerous book, Y/N.” Wanda could tell her answer was not of your liking, she stepped forward ready to join you and her wife in the fight glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes.

“You don’t know where she has Wanda?” You asked again never taking your eyes off of the older woman standing before you.

“I have my suspicions but I’m not sure how to interfere with that.” Wanda winced trying to ease out the pain on her neck, you frowned pursing your lips while taking a closer look at Agatha before your eyes found the same house you had come to know as Wanda’s place.

“Well, then let’s get this over with and get Wanda back.” Your arms stretched to the sides, the silent command spurred into action the shadows around you flying straight ahead to try and get Agatha.

Before your counterpart and the other Wanda could help you out, the creatures summoned by Agatha launched their first attack. A great explosion was heard while you evaded the flashing balls of power sent over by the witch.

The fight soon broke over, you didn’t notice it but the dome surrounding this part of the universe tremble sending waves of energy all through the world until they came into contact with the timeline and America. The young woman lifted her head, her eyes gleaming brightly as she tapped into her powers; bouncing on the balls of her feet she waited. America could hear the sound of explosions and the muffled sound of conversations and screams, she glanced at her hands thinking about the lessons she had been learning in the last couple of months. She closed her fists, opening them again before lifting her face. This people had been putting their lives on the line for her, they had been trying to protect her without expecting anything in exchanged. It was about time she helped them.

With a glance to the sky, America took a deep breath closing her eyes for a brief moment. As soon as she opened them, her lips curled into a single smile.

Time for payback.

The street had been completely destroyed during the fight.

There were no more homes standing up, or nice cosy gardens decorating the suburban setting. The world soon became a mixture of nothingness with the flickering holograms of reality that you could not touch. Agatha had learnt a thing or two since fighting with Wanda, you could see her ability to hold onto her powers while also making use of those she had stolen from your Wanda.

You shook your head hating the thoughts running around in your head, the overwhelming emotions that seemed to try and govern your decisions. You tried to focus your energy on what was right in front of you, the problem you were facing went beyond your own emotions. There would be a time for you to deal with them.

Agatha lifted her left hand above her head before letting it fall fast to her side, the sharp pain of your skin being pierce made you grunted. You could feel the wounds on your arms, your eyes igniting in a deep black that soon went right ahead to engulf the witch in front of you.

At some point, Agatha had become faster than your attacks, she stepped aside flickering her hands and soon two more creatures appeared out of nowhere.

“Is that all you got?” You asked almost losing your concentration when you heard the voice of your counterpart in the back.

“Get away from my wife!”

Agatha smirked grabbing her necklace, tilting her head she settled her eyes on you.

“Oh, dear, you would be surprised with the number of tricks I can bring on you.” Agatha stepped forward, her feet never touching the ground. “I could make your dreams come true; I can be what Wanda never was for you.”

You pressed your lips together taking into a fighting stance.

“You know nothing about my dreams, and I am certainly not looking for a replacement.”

Agatha snorted her hand gripping tightly on the necklace, soon a red mist grew from the space between her neck and chest and the world around her turned crimson. Agatha stretched out her arms and the whole world vibrate around you changing in the blink of an eye.

“Are you sure? I can tell by the pathetic way you are always looking at her, but the way you talk about her that there is nothing else you want more than her…” Agatha’s voice rose above the new scene, your eyes flickered around while your stomach dropped when you realized where she had taken you to.

For a brief moment you could make out the screams and grunts of the fight going on right outside this small world. You took a deep breath trying to get a hold of your powers ignoring the runes glowed above your head a clear sign that this was still being controlled by Agatha. You creased your brows knowing that your options were limited if the other woman decided to use her magic at its full potential. She was playing with you, leading you on and one until it was quite clear she was mocking you by placing you right in front of a memory that had broken your heart at some point.

It was playing in slow motion, the video and the room with everyone just as shocked as you were to see Wanda in the arm’s of another. The passing of time, every single moment that you had suffered the betrayal while facing your sadness alone in a world of pure darkness. Your fit closed, the shadows on your feet stirred violently sensing your anger when you heard Agatha laughing. Mocking you.

“How did it make you feel knowing she was happier with a man?” Agatha purred making sure to be as far away from you as she could. “How did it feel knowing you were never going to be chosen in this world? In this universe? I bet it pierce your soul knowing you were the one destined to be alone.”

“Shut up.”

“I can make it go away, I can help you out…say the words, and I will make sure you get what you want.”

Your knees gave under your weight, furrowing your brows you tried to close yourself to the mocking film playing around you trying to focus on the fight. Agatha chuckled tilting her head, this time around the runes above her head pulsated and the two creatures grew before your eyes attacking viciously at your counterpart and Wanda making sure that your conversation and fight with Agatha wouldn’t be interrupted. Agatha centred her eyes on you, her hand grabbing the necklace while the same video seemed to be on replay.

“She won’t be a problem for you anymore, and after I’m done with you…you won’t have to worry about the pain of your broken heart, dear.” The laughter sent shivers down your back, but it was everything you were waiting for.

Your lips curled into a smile, your right hand twirled clockwise and the shadows broke into waves catching up with the witch. Just as you had located her, ready to give her a lesson, the woman was ready to use the magic Wanda and Scarlet were giving to her to make sure the next stage of her plan could be completed.

It never happened, though.

Your attack never stopped reaching out to your objective, while Agatha tried to return the hit she was surprised by a sudden punch to her face. The punch glow white, and her body bounced back and forth until she lost the hold on the necklace, America Chavez didn’t stop there and your shadows went straight to hold onto the witch to bring her down.

Everything happened so fast, your eyes went from America to Agatha and finally to the object on the ground. The necklace bounced on the ground, and without thinking too much you went right ahead to grab it. The object was warm to the touch, you could tell by the vibrations that magic had been contained between the object and this magic could only belong to one person. You closed your hand around it, you could sense Scarlet deep inside your mind. It didn’t take you too long to recognize the woman that had been haunting your dreams as of late, right with her you could also sense Wanda trying to hide, trying to survive.

“NO!”

The scream coming from Agatha was everything you needed to drop the necklace and stomp on the piece of jewellery creating an explosion that blew you and everyone around you away.

“Humph…” Your mouth opened letting out a shaky breath, your body hurt all over while your eyes got use to the sparkling lights that appeared before them when your head hit the ground.

“Y/N!!” You tried to sit up, a pair of arms held onto you for a brief moment until you were capable of making out the figure sitting beside you.

America had her brows creased; her eyes shone with worry while she tried to hold you up. The fighting was still ringing inside your ears, your counterpart was finishing the last of the dimensional creatures while you could spot her Wanda holding back against Agatha. For a brief moment, panic rose inside you the sudden need to throw up became almost to much just as you leaned forward trying to stand up your eyes looking frantically for the women that had been haunting your dreams and reality as of late.

“They are unconscious…” America started but she could not finish her sentence as you stood up without any warning.

“Wanda…” Her name escaped your lips without meaning to, at that moment with your body exhausted and your mind already carrying the weight of so many memories and thoughts all you could do was staggered forward until you reached both women.

You stood on shaky legs glancing from Wanda to Scarlet, both of them unconscious wearing the same bags under their eyes and the bruises all over their faces and arms. You hesitated not really knowing where you should focus your attention until, as an afterthought you went to Wanda. Turning her to the side you ensure she was comfortable, her lip had a deep cut and her forehead had traces of a scratch that left her with blood and dirt. She looked thinner than you remember, with her face wearing still the same defeated expression she wore to your home all those months ago.

“Wanda.” You said her name again, this time around firmer and demanding, your hand trying to help her out until you heard her exclamation of pain. “Wanda, are you alright?”

The young woman stirred in your arms, her eyes flickering slightly until she opened her lips and let out an exclamation of pain. You put her back on the ground, turning around you could see Scarlet was stirring awake as well while the fight seemed to have no end.

“Y/N…” You turned to see Wanda’s eyes fluttering open, her green orbs looking back at you with sadness and tenderness that had your heart beating a tad bit faster.

“Hey, are you alright?” You leaned in but Wanda looked away helping herself up, you tired to assist her but your body froze for a moment unsure on how to proceed with the woman sitting before you.

“I…I am a little sore.” She replied, her eyes never leaving the form of Scarlet, Wanda furrowed her brows glancing at her hands then back at the other woman. “She…she is…Scarlet Witch.”

Her words trembled as she pronounced them, her face lowered thinking to herself knowing full well your attention was on her. She remembered the moment she had separated herself from the legend, the words of Agatha had haunted her at that moment when she realized there was something inside her giving her powers a deeper meaning. She had hated that idea, and the world that had been created out of it.

When Wanda finally dared to look up she found herself looking into your eyes. Her heart stirred with emotion, the words that wanted to pour out of her mouth entangled around her throat for she knew it was not the time for a heart-to-heart conversation. She wished everything had turned out different, but after her confrontation with Agatha and everything she had discovered whiled trapped in that reality she knew what she needed to do.

“Can you…help me up?” She asked shyly, you nodded curtly stretching your hands for her to take them.

She was cold under your touch, and a little sweaty.

Her cheeks coloured pink, and her eyes glanced everywhere but at you. You felt a piercing pain going through your chest, but you ignored it while helping the other woman up. For a brief moment, you thought she could walk on her on until Wanda’s legs trembled and almost gave up on her. You caught her just on time, her body pressing against yours making your traitorous heart stopped for a brief moment.

“How convenient, Wanda.” Scarlet was on her knees; she had sweat falling down her face breathing hard and glaring at the two of you though her eyes were completely focused on Wanda. “You…you don’t do nothing, yet you get to be with her.”

Wanda tensed in your arms, she took a deep breath while pushing you away taking one step at a time until she was standing before Scarlet. You lifted your eyes to see America just as focused on the two women as you were, the sound of the fighting was till rumbling in your ears but it was almost impossible to pay attention to something else that wasn’t the scene playing out in front of you.

Wanda held herself up, conscious of the hatred inside the eyes of Scarlet.

Inside her own eyes.

“We don’t get to be with her.” Wanda mumbled dropping her shoulders, tears gathering in her eyes as she spoke. “I’ve been trying to make amends but I just…”

“You always failed, and you make it worse.” Scarlet spat out lifting her chin in defiance, her position on the ground was not an inconvenience. If anything, it gave her the power that Wanda couldn’t show at the moment.

“I tried to reach out to her, to make her world and mine…to…”

“I know.” Wanda offered a weakened smile, looking out of the corner of her eyes she could see you had your attention on the both of them. “I tried to do the same. I just…I can’t do it alone, and I’m tired of failing every time. I don’t…”

Wanda swallowed down her tears, she leaned in lifting her left hand until she was cupping Scarlet’s cheek. Red mist appeared in Wanda’s hand, and soon her eyes as much as those of Scarlet were shining brightly.

“It hurts so much.” Scarlet said letting the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I just…

“I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t want to be without her.” Wanda finally said her own tears falling down her face.

You clenched your jaw, looking away for a moment while your chest felt a myriad of butterflies fluttering inside.

“But I can’t keep fighting alone, or divided.” Wanda stated, she wiped away Scarlet’s tears before adding. “I think we need to be one, you saw just how powerful we are together and…”

“You need to fix this, or we would never…”

“I know, but this may not end the way you want it.”

Scarlet drifted her attention to you, her eyes found those of yours and in there you could read everything you had been so afraid to interpret the first time. There was pain and sadness, emotions that broke into her heart in ways you could only imagine, and then there was love. You looked away stepping back under the intensity of such a stare, you missed the broken smile on Scarlet’s face and the defeat she wore while facing Wanda again.

“I know, I think we will cope when the time for that comes.” Wanda nodded in understanding; her hands gleamed brighter than ever while Scarlet placed her hand on top of hers.

“I promised you I won’t give up.”

“Good, then let’s do this.”

The crimson mist grew around them glowing with a bright, red light making you trembled under the intensity of the magic. You could see America kneeling down, her eyes going wide open as they stare the scene unfolding before her eyes.

Wanda and Scarlet were no longer two different entities.

Standing before you was a single woman, her head was adorned with a red crown that made match with the bodice and the black leggings. Wanda stood there with magic coming from her hands, her eyes a deep shade of red that gathered the power you had always known she had in her. The woman stood still for a moment, she glanced at her body and her hands before her face lifted to stare at you.

You tried to hide your expression, your lips parting to speak but not words came out. Wanda hesitated before nodding her feet moving slowly until she turned around making her way to the fight.

“Is she gonna be okay?” America stood right beside you, squirting at the woman now using her magic to help her counterpart in the fight against Agatha.

“I think so…” You trailed off finally realizing that even though the both of them had finally become one, Wanda was still wearing the bruises and the exhaustion on her face.

“Are you okay?” America asked quite concern, you turned to her offering a half smile.

“I will be.” You sighed scratching the back of your neck. “Stay here and be careful.”

“What are you gonna do?” The teen asked slightly scare, you offered her a half smile turning towards the fight that was a tied between the Wandas and Agatha.

“What we came to do, just stay out of trouble and be ready to help us go back home, okay kiddo?”

America doubt there was anything she could do, but she didn’t contradict you. With a single nodded of her head she watched as you ran towards the fight, your shadows already creating a protective barrier around you and Wanda. Something, America though, you probably were not aware of.

_____________________________________________________________

Loki rolled his eyes once more, he was tired of hearing the fight going on in the meeting room while he stood by the window waiting for the right moment to intervene.

The world outside was highly active, Monday had always been one of the busiest days in the calendar and that day was not the exception. The young god leaned forward, his fingertips touching the window while his eyes observed the golden and green lights of the timelines. His eyes soon fell upon the one he did not recognise, a red line that he could not tamper with but that he was certain contained the answers to the questions everyone in the room were posing.

Loki turned around his eyes finding those of Billy who had not leave his side ever since Pietro brought him into the Avenger’s Tower. The young boy had his eyes narrowed, his hands playing with invisible threats only he could see.

For a brief moment, Loki stood there observing the child with growing curiosity. Billy was tapping the air with his fingertips, concentrated in something only visible to him. Loki frowned with his mind already forming an idea of what exactly was happening.

“Billy, what are you doing?” The question was low enough for the child to hear it but not for the rest of the room to notice it.

Billy lifted his face this time around his eyes went wide opened showing off the innocence of his age, but also the brightness he had inherited from both his mothers.

“Mommy always says to follow my instincts.” There was conviction in his tone, his hands tapping still as if waiting for something.

“And, what are they telling you?” Loki knelt to be on the same height of the child, Billy tilted his head creasing his brows before answering.

“Uncle Loki, momma and mommy need my help…look!”

Loki looked in the direction Billy was pointing to, he gasped with his eyes wide open and a smile forming on his lips.

“Billy you are a genius.” Billy offered a timid smile glancing at Loki shyly.

“Really?”

“Yes, and I think thanks to you we are going to be able to help Wanda and Y/N.” Loki could see the excitement in the little boy, he couldn’t help but smile back.

Without giving to much attention to the room, Loki sat right beside Billy closing his eyes before letting his magic to spread around. Billy was slightly confused at first, he had continued working on invisible threads trying to get into contact with them. Now there was something different, with his uncle sitting beside him Billy could sense the magic. He pressed his lips together before sitting down and, imitating Loki, he closed his eyes and just went with his instincts.

_____________________________________________________________

Whatever power she had tried to drain from Wanda and even Scarlet was no longer active to give her the stamina or even the strength to keep up with the fight. She was not even up to sustain the world she had created by tampering on the Chaos magic she could barely tolerate.

Wanda Maximoff gathered her power while circling the woman in front of her, she could feel the hurt she had created for her counterpart had reached out beyond the boundaries of the multiverse and it was something she would not tolerate. Beside her she could sense Y/N, a close shadow that was ready to jump in when necessary to offer protection and support; Wanda couldn’t help but smile.

“You won’t win.” Agatha tried to put up with a fight, she tried to hold onto the last threads of power inside her to get into the fight but she could no longer hold onto her powers for far too long.

You came from behind her your hands wrapping around her wrists while your shadows covered her feet spreading through her legs and body. Agatha was struggling, her eyes going wide open just as she started chanting in a language you did not recognize. Wanda opened her eyes wide, she stepped closer spreading her arms and chanting just the same, the runes trembling right above your head just before a myriad of images surrounded you breaking the darkness before going completely white.

“NO!” Agatha let out a guttural exclamation, her elbow hitting you square in the face but whatever strength she had in her to fight was haltered by your counterpart finishing what you started.

Wanda knew at that moment why she had been feared by Agatha, the power that was held inside her sent electric waves through her body. The power concentrated on her hand, and soon a single jewel showed on her palm while her counterpart continued with the ritual. The runes appeared right above her head, and without any indications, she started chanting as well.

You stepped back falling on your ass, blood rolling down your nose just as you saw the black figured being swallowed by the jewel. There was a moment of flickering lights and then, it stopped. Both Wanda’s stood right in front of the other, the jewel resting comfortably on the hand of Y/N’s wife.

The jewel took into a purplish colour, falling to the ground with a single thump.

The world went silent.

The darkness around you grew, with the stars twinkling right above your head.

Everything was still, with only your hard breathing breaking the tension around your ears. Your body was aching, your mind filled with memories of the past and the present all of them pilling up to overwhelmed you line of thoughts. You closed your eyes trying to forget and wait for everything to be back the way it was in the last year.

But you knew it was just an illusion.

Your world had been shaken up the moment Wanda and America showed up at your doorstep. The fight with Agatha brought back the memories you had tried to forget, it brought with it the truths you were not ready to face. You had always thought that you could outrun your motions, but the world has always taught you this was not possible. Not for someone like you, and certainly not for someone like Wanda.

When you opened your eyes you saw Wanda, your Wanda staring at you, but before anything could be done or said her eyes rolled back passing out of exhaustion. You caught up to her on time, her body falling on yours your face a mask of pure concern just as you ensure she rested comfortably on the ground.

You knew everyone was looking at you, but you decided to ignore them while checking Wanda over to make sure nothing else happened to her.

“Are you alright?” The other Wanda came to you, her voice sent shivers down your back, you didn’t dare to lift your eyes for fear of revealing far too much.

Instead, you nodded taking deep breaths while feeling the ground under your knees, without thinking too much about it, your hand brushed Wanda’s hair tenderly. The attention you were giving to her was something you never thought you would do again. The woman standing beside you shifted her weight and soon she was sitting right beside you; this time around you did turn around only to see her staring at you with big, curious eyes.

“She is still unconscious, but I believe she is no longer two halves of the same person.” Wanda lifted her face to the sky, her lips parting slightly. “Her magic is still erratic, but I believe she would be okay.”

“What about Agatha?” Your question entangled in your throat, scrunching up your nose you decided to conceal your emotions not ready to face the conversation or to address the white elephant hanging around you two.

“She will be trapped in this jewel until you and her decided what should be done with her.” Wanda handed over the jewel, you pursed your lips in disgust before grabbing the artifact.

“The book she had with her, it is the Darkhold, isn’t it?”

“It is.” You nodded this time around locking your eyes with hers.

“Are you taking it with you?”

Wanda broke into an easy smile shaking her head, “it’s not mine but yours. It would be better off in your world, where it belongs.”

“It should be destroyed.” You leaned back resting your hands on the ground.

“It should, but that would be your prerogative not ours.”

Your eyes drifted around the place before they settled on America and Y/N, both of them were engaged in a heavy discussion and you could teel this was the moment America had been waiting for a very long time. The feelings of guiltiness and sadness had been quite evident in her when you two met, right now this was the chance the young woman was waiting for to make amends. To reach for forgiveness.

“So, any idea how we are going to leave this place?”

Wanda nodded leaning back until she pointed to America and your counterpart.

“She is ready to use her powers, I believe she is the only one that can help us right now.”

Not sooner had Wanda said this the world started to tremble, the light of the stars flickered until they disappeared one by one. You straightened up with Wanda standing up as soon as she noticed this.

“I guess…we should try it right now.” You stood up turning to glance at the darkened world, everything was coming in and out of reality with the ground shaking for small periods of time.

“It was a matter of time.” Wanda placed a hand on your forearm, you couldn’t help the tension on your muscles the other woman softened her features stepping closer. “You will be back, and she will need help to recover from this.”

“I know.”

“Are you ready for that?” The question caught you off guard, you knew what was expected of you and what you could do with the woman that had broken your heart at some point.

You could hide behind that excuse until the end of time, but it would run out of any validity at some point. Sooner or later, you knew you would have to face Wanda and decisions must be made. The Wanda standing before you softened her features, her words would made your mind pound with the imminent decisions you would need to make.

“How deep is your anger, and how deep goes your love for you to not face what your heart already knows?” Wanda leaned in and you found yourself in a embrace you didn’t know you miss. Her voice was just a whisper, but it was everything you needed at the moment. “I won’t tell you what to do, but I will tell you my love to follow your instincts. They had never failed you.”

America glanced around the group with a nervous smile.

She glanced at her hands then back at you and Y/N, the words of encouragement were ringing inside her head while she tried to gather the courage to move onto the next step.

“Just think about it, kiddo.” Y/N stated grabbing the hand of her wife, America almost winced at those words because her mind had been a myriad of thoughts since they delegate the task of going back home on her.

You fixed the unconscious woman in your arms, putting her closer to you while looking over at America. The young woman closed her eyes, ready to open the portal when Wanda stopped her.

“Wait, America.” The redhead stepped closer placing her hand on America’s shoulder. “Remember, it is more than opening a portal, is about opening the right one.”

“I know, I know…it’s just…easier said than done.” America pursed her lips, she took a deep breath closing her eyes.

“Then, let yourself be guided by your emotions and what you remember of the place you want to go to.” Wanda squeezed the shoulder of the teen tenderly, and for that brief moment America felt it.

It was vague but it was there.

The same kind of energy she had felt on Wanda and Y/N, it was familiar yet different. She had felt it when she first fell upon that universe, the twins had carried with them a strange kind of energy that seemed to engulf the best of Wanda and Y/N.

America closed her eyes and, without thinking to much, she followed the familiarity of that energy. Her mind bringing over the memories of her time in that land, finally easing out her fears and trusting in the women she had surrounding her.

The young woman clenched her fist, and with a single punch she opened the star-shaped portal.

All of them were ready to go home.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

[spacecowboyhotch]

In Plain Sight, Ch 2: A Hoard of Cupids

summary: nathan’s much more insightful about you than he used to be. it’s making you uneasy…and curious.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, pining, nathan trying to be nice but he’s so abrasive lol, pining, mentions of caretaking/sick family members, mentions of emotionally abusive parents, masturbation (m), sub!nathan if you squint

wc: 2,745

AN: back at it with part twoooo. thank you all for the kind words and support on this fic, i didn’t expect it to get the response it did but i’m really excited to give y’all the rest. fair warning that these chapters seem to be getting longer as i write on. happy reading!

in plain sight masterlist | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Nathan gives you space— at first. When you return the next day at 7 a.m. sharp he’s nowhere to be found. Not in the living room or in the kitchen, not on his patio boxing. You assume he’s in his room, probably toying with one of his bots in a distasteful manner. The idea makes you shudder. But is it not easier to come to work with every task he could want you to do placed on his desk, no fuss?

You don’t like Nathan Bateman. He’s a pompous asshole, a know it all, a man who thinks only about his own desires. When he apologized— or rather attempted to— yesterday you thought that maybe you slipped and fallen down the stairs on your way out. By his standards, it was a top tier apology. You’d never once heard him apologize to anyone. On your drive home you had wondered if he had ever apologized in his life. The thought made you giggle, and then you’d turned up the music and forgotten about him until right now.

Sat at your desk, an ungodly stack of things to do. There’s a note sat on top. It’s simple and straightforward, lacking emotion but somehow still has your stomach flipping. It reads:

In meetings all day— let me know if you need anything. Go home early today.

Mr. Bateman

P.S. I’ll spruce up my apologizing skills.

You regard the note cautiously, raising your brow at it before you let yourself laugh a little. Was this a joke or had Nathan Bateman taken some criticism to heart (which is rumored to not exist). You fold the note up, and for some reason slip it into your bag.

The last thing that’s on your mind is that Nathan’s watching you. He sits in the dark at his monitors, leaning in closely. His eyes trace your figure on the screens intensely, watching as you read and read and read. He expects no reaction from you beside maybe throwing it in the trash. But then you laugh, and he watches you store it for safekeeping. A piece of him will go home with you. Nathan never thought he’d be jealous of a piece of paper, not when he seems to have the entire world at his fingertips.

—

He returns to his normal behavior after a week— partially because he thinks you settled in. And partially because…well he begrudgingly can admit to himself, in the comfort of his own mind, that he misses you. When you get to work the next Monday he’s sat on an observation table, examining what looks like a deconstructed robot brain.

You aren’t even able to open your mouth and say good morning before he’s talking to you.

“Are you sleeping okay?” He asks, his eyes appraising you intensely.

You stop in your tracks, regarding him as always, your expression pieced into that calm expression. So you’re back to normal, none of that fire. He expected it but that doesn’t keep him from feeling disappointed.

“Sir?”

“You look really fucking tired. Exhausted,” He tacts on for good measure.

Your spine goes completely rigid, your grip on your bag tightening. You are tired. So very tired. You work shitty hours for incredible money and then go home to take care of your younger sisters and mother. Dealing with Nathan is for them. For your sisters’ schooling, so they won’t feel left out when the other kids have the newest gadget or shoes. For your mother’s ever piling medical bills. It’s important that you don’t jeopardize something so precious.

“Is it affecting my work? Have I done something wrong?” You ask him softly.

“No— that’s not why I’m—“ He stutters before closing his mouth and starting anew. You’ve never seen him like this. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was flustered. But knowing Nathan, he’s just never asked a single employee he’s ever had if they’re alright. “I’m your boss, I worry about your well being. That’s what good bosses do.”

“Are you sure?” You ask evenly, eyes still trained on him.

“Am I—“ He stops, eyes wide for a fraction of a second before he bites away his smile. “Are you fucking with me?”

If he was looking at you so intentionally he would miss the way your mouth twitches. “I’m fine, Mr. Bateman. I have a lot of responsibilities, not only here but out there as well.”

“Out there?”

“The real world. Thank you for the concern, sir.”

For the second time, you’ve rendered Nathan speechless. That night he lays in bed thinking of you, like many nights prior. He turns your words over in his head time and time again. The real world. Do you think he doesn’t know what it’s like out there? He wonders how much research you’d done for the job. Nathan used his brain to get here, climbing and climbing. He hadn’t been born into this but his personality lent itself to such a conclusion. Nathan knows what his real world used to look like, though one day he hopes that any of his contraptions can help him forget. He wonders what your real world looks like.

There’s no ring on your finger, but you could have a partner. Kids? Another job? He pays you well enough for that to not be necessary. Maybe you volunteer at a puppy shelter. He could picture it. You in something other than your stuffy work clothes, a smile on your face as you drown in puppy breath and slobber.

He groans, rolling over in bed to plant his face deeply in the pillow. Maybe he can smother himself out of this. Thinking about puppies? He might as well be one, he’s practically lovesick if you have him thinking like this. When would he get used to feeling this way? His usual cynical thoughts feel like they’re being pillaged by a hoard of cupids.

He doesn’t even know if you feel the same. Being better for you is one thing, but what if there’s no payoff? What if he changes for you and you leave him high and dry? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He feels the back of his neck sweating and sits up.

Nathan’s been down this road before, it’s brought him his fortune and an insane work ethic. It’s all brought him sorrow he’ll never be able to escape. Being with his parents feels like a fever dream sometimes and other times he feels 6 again, like he’s drowning in their expectations and insults, trying to measure up. He’d given up eventually, once he realized that they would never love him the way parents should. Why try to do anything anyone wanted but himself when they could still treat him poorly for it?

He’s the way he is from his own indoctrination. He doesn’t know where he would be if he hadn’t convinced himself that he was the only person that truly matters.

But, now there’s you. You, who looks so soft, you that scratches an itch he didn’t even realize he had. You, that he wants to goad and prod and poke until you unleash all of yourself on him. He closes his eyes and lays back, envisioning you right here with him. He feels insane, his heart— his mind, his dick— are taking him through a whirlwind of emotions right now.

He palms himself through his boxers, eyes squeezing shut tighter than before as he tries to narrate. He pictures you in one of his white shirts, it’s fabric nearly see-through with the way it clings to your breasts. He grasps his length through his boxers letting out a heaving sigh. Fuck he wishes this was you.

If there’s anything that Nathan knows how to do its not only being smartest but the most imaginative. He’s been daydreaming for as long as he can remember. Universes with better outcomes— having worth, or loving parents or anyone for that matter. Anyone to be on his side. He imagined codes and synthetic body parts that live and breathe in front of him. He can surely imagine you, breathy and horny in his bed, jerking him off. He doesn’t care if it’s fucked up, or inappropriate. He wants you, and maybe this is the only way he can have you. He slides his boxers down, finally done teasing himself. Licking his palm, he grabs his cock, starts stroking and succumbs to the thought of you.

Another moan bubbles out of his throat. He can see your nipples through his shirt when you straddle him like this. Your thighs are soft against his own and he would reach for your free hand, thread his fingers through your own. Your hands are smaller than his, smooth and supple. And god, you’re stroking him just the way he likes it, the soft wet sound making pleasure shoot through his groin.

You’d overstimulate him wouldn’t you? With that clever mouth barely pulling up a grin, eyes full of fire as you stroke him past the point of pleasure. Would you make him watch? See the way your hands would grow slick and shiny with his cum as you kept pumping and pumping, pushing him to another release. Covering you both in him, until you’re too needy to keep toying with him. Nathan cums just as he’s imagining the feeling of you dragging your bare pussy against his sensitive cock. He whines and keens off the bed, the high singing in his veins. He swears he can almost imagine the way you would moan.

His eyes open, the spell broken. He’s alone, covered in his own spend, chest heaving like he just ran a 10k. He avoids his reflection when he walks into the bathroom to clean up. His loneliness spikes again and he heads to the kitchen, reaching for the first bottle he can find.

—

“You’re late,” He says stiffly, crossing his arms as he watches you cross the space to sit at your desk.

The day after he’d gotten off thinking of you he’d had the slightest difficulty looking at you. It quickly faded, he was too greedy. Too needy, if he’s being honest. He can’t get enough, he doesn’t know if he could ever say it but you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You’re openly frazzled; your shirt isn’t tucked in, your hair is a little more frizzy than usual and you look as tired as ever. He regrets his biting tone immediately.

Even as you explain you’re moving, setting your to-go mug on the desk, fetching your calendar, booting up your computer. “I know, I’m sorry, Mr. Bateman. My sisters were less than cooperative this morning.”

Nathan turns completely away from the bins he’s been searching through, raising a brow at you in surprise, “Your sisters?”

“Yes— one is 7 the other is 14. The little made getting out of the house…difficult,” You murmur distractedly, eyes trained on your screen.

“Isn’t that your parents’ fucking job?”

His question snaps you back to the present— you hadn’t shared nearly as much as you could’ve. But you’d gone into this job wanting to be nameless and faceless. Memorable only for the quality of the work you do.

You shake your head, daring a quick glance in his direction that you immediately regret when your eyes meet his.“I realized that I’ve shared far too much about my personal life. I should work, Mr. Bateman.”

Nathan immediately understands your deflecting. How many times has he been asked by reporters and interviewers where his family is? Enough times that he’s had his publicist strike the topic from the acceptable lists. That was about all he was good for anyway, Nathan says what he wants when he wants.

He goes back to the task at hand— though now with you here he doesn’t quite remember what that was. A part…some sort of part that he needed. Wires? Screws? A metal plate? He sighs in frustration and leaves without another word.

Your gaze is on the door as soon as it shuts, making sure he’s gone. The tears that you’ve been biting back fall and you bury your face in your hands. Your youngest sister had begged and pleaded for you to stay warm in bed with her this morning. With your mother so sick, you’ve practically raised her yourself these last few years. It makes her needy, which you understand. But what she doesn’t understand is how delicate the balance you found in caring for your entire family is. Middle sister lacks just as much understanding, with heaps of attitude. She doesn’t want to snuggle with you or with younger sister. Mediating this entire situation is what made you late.

It feels like you’re cracking under the pressure but that isn’t an option, is it? As if the universe wants to make it clear, your computer chimes. It’s Nathan, asking you to come to his office.

—

He’d meant to go clear his head in his office and come back to get whatever part he was in need of. But, when he sat in his chair he was met with the sight of you hunched over your desk, presumably crying by the way your shoulders jerked every once and a while.

He’s pinging you before he can think better of it. He watches you read his message. You’re such an anomaly— you sit up immediately, reaching for some tissues and cleaning yourself up as if nothing happened. You even check yourself in the reflection of your computer, fidgeting with your hair, tucking in your shirt once you stand. As soon as you start out of the office he turns off his monitors, not one to be caught snooping around though it’s right and was clear in the contract. Maybe you’ve forgotten. Perhaps you don’t think your anything worth watching…Nathan would like to change that assumption.

“You pinged me, sir?”

How would he play this? He couldn’t admit that he just watched you cry.

“Trying my hand at this apologizing shit again. I— Nathan Bateman— am sorry for being insensitive. Like I said last time, I don’t know your life or you. Alright, how was that?”

“I would say a solid, 5/10, which is a 50% improvement.”

“Fuck me, you’re a tough crowd. What am I docked for? You know I’m all about perfection.”

“There was a lack of originality. And you omitted your middle name.”

It takes everything in Nathan not to giggle. The way the words come out of your mouth are so funny… or maybe he’s just obsessed. It could be both. “My middle name is classified information.”

“Does Wikipedia know that?” You ask, tilting your head in that uncanny way.

Nathan can’t hold in his laugh this time, running a hand over his beard, “You’re funnier than you look.”

Your mouth twitches, and you give him the smallest nod, “Thank you, sir. Is that all?”

He pretends to think about it. “This apology is feeling pretty one-sided to me.”

“I accept your apology, Mr. Bateman, thank you.”

“Accept something else,” He proposes, going out on a limb. Suddenly your stare is too intense, the room is too hot and small. What the fuck is he doing?

“What’s that?” You ask, as soft and sweet as ever.

“Dinner. Tomorrow,” He says simply.

“With you?”

Nathan ignores the twinge in his heart— your tone barely changed. If he wasn’t with you every single day, studying you, he wouldn’t even have noticed.

“I can invite the droids if you want. They’ll just stare at us while we eat.”

Your hand tightens around your planner. Dinner with Nathan…choosing to be around him? It seemed like as of late he was trying to be…more palatable. This could be an act of good faith. But, you have your sisters and mother to think about. You’ve given her nurse enough overtime hours in the last few weeks.

“Without getting too personal, I don’t think I’ll be able to swing it sir, I have to get home to my sisters as soon as possible.”

Yes, your family, that you never talk about. He could accommodate, what’s he the fucking boss for if he can’t?

“We’ll do it early.”

You sway a little as you think about this— that’s new, he thinks to himself, filing that information away for later.

“You’ve already got me apologizing, I can’t add saying please to the list of acceptable behaviors. I’ll lose my fucking edge.”

“How early?”

“3:30.”

“Alright, then, sir.”

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue , @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @kotaropuppy

[envysnest]

Snakeskin (Sephiroth/Reader) (ch. 13/?)

AO3 / Pillowfort

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14

Tags: First Time, Reader-Insert, Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Frank Discussions of Past Rape/Abuse, Everyone is Queer, Canon-Compliant (if you squint), Pre-Crisis-Core Seph, Slow Burn, i continue to disappoint my friends and family, sephiroth is a virgin and in this essay i will, Reader is a Cis Woman, fluffy sex, Praise Kink, Gratuitous Biochemistry

Summary:

You are a young biologist, fresh out of graduate school, working in Shinra's R&D Division under Professor Hojo. You had long since given up on finding a partner and starting a family, preferring instead the company of your cell samples and your scientific instruments.

As the conflict in Wutai worsens, you strike up an unexpected friendship with a First Class SOLDIER.

(Sephiroth/Reader Slow Burn)

TW's for this chapter: Dissociation, trauma flashback, body horror/violence (related to the trauma flashbacks). Comfort and soothing comes with all of these events!

—

A door closed. You startled awake. How long had you been lying there? The water was still hot. Condensation dripped from the mirror. You looked down at your hands, where the water had wrinkled your fingertips into little raisins. When you sat up, the wine made your head spin.

Someone was in the apartment with you.

You held your breath, held very very still, and listened.

Did Sephiroth have cleaners or other people over? What if someone saw you? You looked desperately at the open bathroom door, wishing you had closed it behind you. The person (intruder, whoever they were) was humming to themselves and puttering around the main living space. You heard bags hit the floor, zippers and buckles being undone. A ghoulish image filled your head: a Turk, sent to fetch you, waiting to pounce just beyond the door. No touching, they’d say. The ethics board will be notified. 

You drew your knees to your chest; the tub water sloshed violently. 

The intruder called out your name. “Are you in the bathroom?”

Sephiroth. 

Oh. You loosened your grip on your knees. “Yes,” you called back. When would you stop being so paranoid? Sephiroth had trusted you with a key, after all; it wasn’t as if he had people coming and going freely. You had almost forgotten he was due to return home.

“Everything alright in there?”

“Yes,” you called again, for lack of anything else to say.

There was a loaded pause. You could hear his footsteps in the kitchen.

When he finally spoke, his tone was breathless with laughter:“Did you fall in?”

Please kill me. You rubbed your face with your hands. “No, Seph,” you sighed. “Just in the tub.” 

“Good,” he replied; you could still hear the laughter in his voice. “Because if I had to conduct another rescue, I would lose my mind.”

You smiled. When you relaxed your arms, you felt pain seep out of your muscles. You had been tense, holding in fear of— 

What? Sephiroth being angry with you? 

You thought back to your earlier worrying: it was so easy to disregard his feelings when the man himself wasn’t in the next room, unpacking from an arduous mission. You felt a little childish about how you had behaved the past week. He deserved so much better than your petulant attitude. It was his first…Thing. In the next room, Sephiroth began whistling. He should have an agreeable partner who didn’t think awful, mean things about him when he was away. His life was stressful enough.

With a jolt, you realized you had left the stockings in the dryer. So much for surprise: if he did his laundry, he’d see them, soft and wrinkled, in a sad little heap. You looked down at your knees, at your body tucked into a ball. 

A dark shape appeared in the door. You shrunk away from it.

“Don’t get up,” Sephiroth said, one hand outstretched to you. He looked— excited? “I have a gift for you.”

“A…?”

Sephiroth turned and disappeared into the bedroom across the hall. “I was hoping to get your opinion on it,” he called. You heard him rummage in the closet; you craned your neck to try and see him. A few boxes thunked to the floor.“I get a lot of promotional material I don’t need, but this looked interesting. I wanted us to try it together.”

You swallowed past a lump in your throat. The images your mind conjured weren’t exactly welcome. “I’m scared,” you called.

“Don’t be,” he called back. “I think you’ll like it.”

More rustling. You sank into the water to your chin. You wished the water wasn’t clear: even curled into a fetal position, Sephiroth could see all of you. So much for the surprise.

Sephiroth was gone for several minutes, rummaging through his clothes drawers. You stared at the empty wine glass. Did he look at that framed picture in the closet every time he came home? Did he speak to it?

Who was she, exactly?

When he returned, he was dressed in a loose teal shirt and navy sweatpants. The shirt’s vinyl print was faded and cracked: Livin’ on Island Time, it said, the font a cheery purple, next to a glossy margarita.

His hands were cupped around something cylindrical. 

You leaned back, away from him, but he didn’t seem to notice your hesitation. Or, for that matter, that you were naked. There was no snide comment, no leer, no raised eyebrow. You may as well have been meeting on the 64th floor. 

Sephiroth nodded to the book on the side table. “Great choice. I find Becken’s spare prose masterful, especially during the lecture hall scene.”

You had fallen asleep around twenty pages in.  “Oh.” You watched as he carefully set the wine glass, then the book, onto the bathroom’s marble counter. “Totally.”

“Let’s get this table out of the way.” He moved the wooden side table back into its nook. You didn’t understand why until he knelt next to your left arm, right where the table had been. “Here.” 

The cylindrical object was a small amber bottle, nestled in his hands. He offered it to you over the lip of the tub; you picked it up, held it up to the light. The label was from a luxury beauty brand, one you could never afford, had its logo printed across the front. You sat straight up. This bottle held around fifty-thousand gil’s worth of product, and you were naked in a bathtub. The body oil inside gave off a faint aroma through the cap: something woody, floral. 

Sephiroth crossed his arms and leaned them against the lip of the tub. “Apparently this is a warming massage oil,” he said, resting his chin on his crossed arms. “It’s supposed to be good for sore muscles.”

“Seph,” you breathed. You checked the back and scanned the ingredients. “They just…give you this? For free?”

He shrugged. “They usually want a sponsorship out of it,” he replied. “I turned this one down. But,” he said, his tone mischievous, “I don’t have to return what they give me.”

Suddenly, the cardboard boxes piled in the closet made perfect sense. You felt a pang of envy. Every paycheck you received seemed to disappear the second you got it. The tights, though in your price range, had been your “treat” for the week. An endless flow of free luxury products felt unreal, decadent. He had handed this to you as casually as a pair of chopsticks or a glass of wine.

You looked up at him, feeling unmoored. “You’re…giving it to me?”

He nodded. “Yes. It’s your gift.” He leaned his cheek against his forearm, looking up at you. “You want to try it now?”

“Yes,” you said. “Please?”

He scrunched his nose as he smiled. “‘Please,’ she says.” He gestured to you. “Go on.”

You could barely keep your hands still as you removed the cap. You broke the plastic seal and brought the bottle to your nose. A forest, tinged with citrus and juniper, filled your nostrils. It reminded you of a rainforest, somewhere far away, during a downpour: peaceful, as if you were bathing outdoors there, alone. It smelled expensive.

“Wow.” You offered the bottle to Sephiroth. “Smell!”

He took the bottle from you and inhaled. He coughed, turning his head away. 

You grimaced. “That bad?”

“That is a lot,” he wheezed, holding the bottle at arm’s length. He blinked rapidly against the fumes. “We probably don’t need much.” He turned the bottle over and scanned the instructions, rubbing the back of his neck in thought. “It says a palmful. I’m afraid to use more.”

You offered him the cap, and he set it aside on the bathroom counter, right next to the wineglass. It wasn’t until he repositioned himself behind you that you realized what he meant.

You froze, staring at the open door. “Wait. Wait wait wait. Like. Now, now?”

“Oh,” he said behind you. “I wasn’t clear. Did you want me to put it on you?” A pause. “I thought it could be…” He cleared his throat. “A nice activity.”

Those books under his bed. Your stomach sank. You were sure at least one of your therapy books had mentioned massages as a way to introduce intimacy. He must have been pent-up, and anyway, that amount of high-quality takeout wasn’t cheap. This is what you’re here for, you thought. You can’t have forgotten that already.

But you wanted to hope anyway. It was in your nature to. 

Your breath hitched when you tried to speak. “Oh,” you said, then, “Um,” then, “If you want?”

“If I want?” Sephiroth teases, and you dimly recognized that low tone, the one he used when he spoke to you in bed. You were definitely not imagining things. “What do you want?”

Affection and disgust each roiled within you, locked in a tight embrace. Did normal people feel this way when they had sex? Did normal people blow ten thousand gil on lingerie, hoping it would impress their partner into staying? 

“This,” you said. “I want this.”

He chuckled. “The lady always gets her way.”

You looked down at the water, at your body underneath the surface. Sephiroth set the bottle aside and rubbed his hands together. 

“Ready?” he asked. 

“Sure,” you said to the water. It wasn’t as if he needed to ask. Not many people did.

His palms settled on both of your shoulders. The smell of juniper and cedar wafted by your nose. When his thumbs pushed into either side of your spine, you stifled a pleased gasp: Impossible warmth trailed after his touch. He repeated the motion, digging his thumbs in deeper.

“How’s that?” he asked behind you. 

You pressed back against his hands in reply, making a soft little hum as you did.

“You’re all tight up here,” he murmured. “Do you lean down when you work?”

A few months ago, Hammond had slipped you a tiny poster for your cubicle: a shrimp in a suit and tie, hunched over a desk. No shrimping!! it said. “I’m always leaning down,” you say. The hot water, the warming oil, his careful hands digging right where you wanted them: it was all making you drowsy. He steadied his hand on your front and pressed into your shoulder with the heel of his hand, and you felt your muscle shifting for him, like your body was opening itself to his touch. (Traitor, you thought.) “I know HR has these ergonomic meetings, and they’re mandatory, but…I don’t know.”

“Take advantage.” Sephiroth switched to your other shoulder. “There’s always money for desk chairs, believe me.”

“I’m so jealous of your apartment,” you blurted. The second it left your mouth, you regretted it. How rude of you; how snippy; how petty. 

Sephiroth sighed. “It’s a wonderful space. If only I was allowed to use it more often.”

“I’m sorry, Seph,” you said. “I didn’t mean it that way, and— and here I am using your hot water— I didn’t mean—”

“Actually,” he said, and his voice was gentle, “I would argue your presence makes it a home.”

You turned around to look at him. Sephiroth’s answering smile was small. Shy. It was so different from the frozen Late Nite Midgar smile; different from the smirk he wore during fights. 

It was you: he was different around you. Reality tilted in strange ways around him, distorting and stretching into long, languid shapes, like light around a black hole. There was no surviving an event horizon; you would fall, willingly, into this one.

Sephiroth nodded towards the door. “You’re going to have to face forward if you want me to keep going.”

You turned forward. It seemed silly that he would hurt you. Or…did it? Affection and disgust again, dancing that strange tango in your brain: that odd feeling that your skin should crawl where he touched you, that confusion when all it felt like was bliss.

“Did you mind when I called you a tease?”

You started. “Huh?”

Sephiroth’s hands paused at the base of your neck. “Calling you a tease.” He shifted his hand behind you and went still, like he was considering something. After a pause, he made a v with his knuckles and pushed down on either side of your first vertebrae. You sighed into his touch. He asked, “Was that going too far?”

You turned around to face him again. The bath water sloshed around you. “What, like…yesterday?”

“Yes,” he said, his eyes downcast. His ears were pink. “The message I sent.”

You couldn’t imagine the man from your screen getting up, going home, and looking up how to have sex. “I…no. It was nice.”

His face brightened, and heaven help you, you were incredibly fond of him. “You liked it?” he asked.

“You’re still learning all this stuff,” you said as you turned forward. “I should be asking you.”

“I never considered that,” Sephiroth replied, and you could hear his smile. “I only think of pleasing you.”

You smiled at the doorway. “Goes both ways,” you murmured. “Don’t feel pressured. Okay?”

“You’re too kind,” he said. One hand pressed against your sternum. “Lie back. I’ll get your arms.” His hands moved to your left bicep, thumbs pressing in and pushing upwards towards your shoulder. You leaned back against the tub, staring up at the ceiling.

When the silence became too much, you turned your head to look at him. “How was your week?”

Sephiroth growled at your arm.

You smiled. “That bad?”

“That bad.” He focused on your left hand, rubbing tender circles into your palm. 

“Want to complain?”

“Do I ever. Let’s see…” He turned your hand over and began massaging your arm again. “I thought of you during a morning intelligence briefing. Most of it could've been an e-mail. I wanted to message you about it."

“Why didn't you?"

“I couldn't let everyone see me on my phone. You’d be surprised at what affects morale.” He smiled, looking away from the tub entirely. “It was hard to stay away."

You sat up. “Seph," you breathed. His ears flushed that sweet, particular scarlet you adored, the shade of ripe fruit. “That's so sweet of you."

That made him meet your eye again. He smiled at you, scrunched his nose. “You would have made the time pass faster,” he said, and this time, he sounded more confident. 

You look down at where he took your hand in both of his. The oil was a bronze color, so stark against his milky-white palms. “I don't-- know what to say."

“You don't need to say anything. Compliments are free.” 

You opened your fingers and let them linger over Sephiroth's open palm, whispered them over that calloused skin, those veins like purple ink. His breath caught; his eyes met yours. Watching you closely, he stroked the tender underside of your wrist, just the pads of his index and middle fingers against your pulse. You shivered; his head tilted in gentle curiosity. You got that small feeling again, the good one, the one that made you feel like porcelain. You, something priceless; him, the faithful admirer. Remembering last weekend, you thought he might want to feel it the other way around.

You leaned towards him, holding the edge of the tub for balance. “Let me compliment you back, at least.” 

Sephiroth’s face shuttered. He suddenly looked exhausted as he pushed your hand back to you. “Please don’t.”

“What?" You didn’t like that: how quickly he shut down, how his eyes traveled down to rest on the bathmat below. You withdrew your hand from the tub's edge. “What's wrong with that?"

“’Sephiroth, the war hero.’” He did a sarcastic little sparkle with his hands. “’The great and mighty SOLDIER, defender of the free world. Come see what shaving cream he uses.'"

“What about…” You lied back and looked up at the ceiling. “The things that only I would know? Or that your friends would know?”

He wordlessly gestured for your right arm. You turned around to face the glass shower and offered it over the lid of the tub. Sephiroth took your hand, but he still wouldn’t look at you, preferring instead to stare at his thumbs as they worked over your palm. The oil left gentle heat wherever it touched. Silence fell again, and you looked ahead, at the shower. You watched a droplet creep down over the glass wall. It eventually joined with another droplet further down, and the two continued their quest towards the tile as one.

Sephiroth huffed, and you looked to him. “I…” He worried his bottom lip in his teeth. “I’m not really a compliments person.”

You waited for him to follow up on that. He didn’t.

“Can I…at least try?" You held up your free hand in surrender. “Unless you wouldn't want that?"

Sephiroth looked up at you, and for a moment, you thought he might be game, until—

“Tell me about your week, instead,” he said, and his smile was a little absent. “Anything exciting?”

You remembered the baying, jeering crowd at Late Nite Midgar, how Sephiroth had looked lost until someone put Masamune in his hand again. 

“Besides Hojo?” you asked.

Sephiroth rolled his eyes dramatically. There it was, he was back from wherever he had run away to. “You must be excited for your presentation.”

“I think we have good data.” You trailed your fingers over Sephiroth’s arm. Goosebumps raised on his skin. “But speaking in front of that huge conference room? Kinda makes me wanna throw up.”

“Tell me about the data you have. Practice your presentation with me.”

You bristled. “Well, I don’t exactly have it right now.”

He shrugged, but you caught the quirk of his lips when he did. “Just talk to me about it.”

You thought for a moment. “There’s sugar in mako, or something like it, I think. A sugar,” you added, “not, like, sugar for coffee or tea. It…how do I explain this…”

Sephiroth studied your face. To your relief, he looked content, almost peaceful. “Go on.”

“It…binds glucose— sugar receptors on the liver cells. We think, anyway. There’s high blood glucose after dosing, too. Still have some follow-ups in mind, but I don’t even know what the liver does with it. It’s not like mako poisoning causes weight gain. If anything, it’s—”

“The opposite.” Sephiroth wrapped his hand around your bicep. You tried not to think about how easily he could shatter it, and then failed. 

You closed your eyes and turned away, away from where he was coaxing his hand up towards your shoulder. “Right. And mako is an appetite suppressant, isn’t it? Maybe it’s binding GLUT1 competitively. Or it’s messing with insulin output?” You hugged your knees with your free arm. “I don’t know. I’d have to ask Yun’s team if they’ve seen evidence of diabetic shock in test subjects. I’m not sure if the body would be able to pull up glucose from food if there was a polysaccharide in the way.” You hesitated. “Did you…get any of that?”

Sephiroth smiled and nodded. “Mm-hmm. Every word.”

You laughed, and then you remembered Friday afternoon. “Oh!” you exclaimed, trying to sound casual. “Off-topic, but I-- I saw the strangest thing. Maybe you’d know something? Genesis looked like he took a bad hit to the face.”

His hands stilled. Sephiroth gave you an odd look. “You saw Genesis hurt?”

“His nose was broken.” You gestured to your own nose with a cupped hand. “Do you know why?”

“I do.”

“What was it?”

Sephiroth’s answer was swift and casual, as if he was describing the weather:

“It was me.”

There was a high-pitched ringing in your ears. You licked your lips, but they felt painfully dry. “Why?” was all you managed.

He sighed heavily beside you. His hand lingered on your shoulder. You imagined him shoving your head down under the water, how the water would burn your sinuses as it rushed into your waiting lungs. 

Would you fight back? Would you splash water on the tile floor?

“We had a fight,” Sephiroth said carefully, “and he said something…unkind.” His voice was tense: you could hear him tip-toeing around the truth, and this frightened you even more. “I lost my temper. The next thing I remember was seeing him turned away from me.” Sephiroth’s hand left your shoulder. “I regretted it immediately,” he continued. “We haven’t spoken since.” He hesitated. “You say he was still injured?”

You stared straight ahead. “What did he say to you?”

“I’d rather not repeat it.” There was pain in his voice. “Please, when you say he was—”

“It was broken.” Your voice was hoarse. “He had a black eye.”

“I know, but when?”

“It was yesterday—no, sorry, Friday—”

“Still?” 

Still. That word made a bell ring faintly in your mind. Genesis belonged to Hollander’s team, and it was no secret that Hollander and Hojo didn’t get along. Nevertheless, Hollander’s SOLDIERs couldn’t, somehow, be more fragile than Hojo’s. At the very least, Hojo’s SOLDIERs healed quickly. Didn’t they both report to Lazard? And if that was the case…

“When did you fight?” you asked.

“Monday. Sometime in the afternoon.”

Sephiroth hit a First hard enough to bruise for five days straight.

Suddenly, you wanted nothing more than for him to stop touching you. 

Your eyes darted around the bathroom. Sephiroth asked something, but it was muffled, as if coming from far away. You had the odd sensation of floating, face-down, in the tub. He asked something again. You blinked at your knees. You thought of the studio audience laughing, Genesis’s pained glare as he stalked past you on Friday afternoon, the painted skull on the poster Sephiroth’s face. You thought of Angeal crying out in silence on your muted laptop.

When you came to, you were standing. Sephiroth was wrapping something warm and soft around you: a bathrobe, one far too long and baggy for you. Your skin was already dry. You looked back at the bathtub, but it was empty.

“The water was getting cold,” Sephiroth said. He was focused on tying the belt around your waist. From this angle, his long bangs whispered against your shoulders. “I didn’t want you getting sick on my account.”

“Wouldn’t want to waste my PTO,” you said. 

His eyes flicked up to yours. His expression was unreadable. “Come on.” He put a hand on your lower back. “Let’s get you out of this bathroom.”

He ushered you across the hall. You walked with him, or you’re sure you did, because when you blinked again, you were standing in front of the bed. Sephiroth’s arms snuck around your waist and undid the robe’s belt. As the robe slid down, Sephiroth bent forward and kissed the exposed skin of your shoulders: first left, then right. You shivered. He smiled against the crook of your neck. You could only think about how odd his mouth felt on your neck. You thought of the party again, of that boy’s cold and clammy lips on your skin. Sephiroth’s mouth felt the same way. The robe fell to the floor.

“Still with me?” he asked, his voice a low purr next to your left ear.

“Yes,” you lied.

“Good.” Sephiroth loosened your hair, ran his hands gently through it. You were sure it was lying awkwardly against your scalp now, but all you could think about were those large, warm, friendly hands meeting bone and cartilage. 

“Okay,” he said. “Stay still.”

He took your head between both of his palms and gently turned it to one side. You saw your frightened face in the bedroom’s full-length mirror. Your naked body looked pathetic next to his clothed one. Sephiroth wasn’t looking in the mirror, focused as he was on you. You met your own terrified eyes.

An image, clear as day, surfaced in your mind: Sephiroth twisting your neck with a sickening crack, leaving your skull hanging limply to one side—

“No!” you shouted, and your body moved. His hands left you: you weren’t sure if you pushed them away, or if he had taken them off of you.

You felt your own face in your hands, as if to confirm your skull was still there. The image wouldn’t leave your mind, and you wrung your hands, as if to flick it away from you. You stumbled to the bed and leaned over it, panting. 

It was a long time before you were able to stand up straight. You looked behind you, back at Sephiroth.

He blinked down at you. His hands were still in mid-air, his entire body stiff and unmoving. He looked lost. Regret burned in your chest. 

His voice was soft. “I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no—“ He had done nothing wrong. You sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing your arms over your bare chest. “I just…” You shook your head and hunched over, further hiding your body from his view. 

“Your neck seemed tight,” he offered. “I wanted to help—“

“Sorry,” you said, and you winced at how harsh your voice sounded. You purposely softened it. “I…I didn’t…” 

You trailed off. The impulse seemed stupid, now. Of course he wouldn’t break your neck. Of course he would be tender with you. Hadn’t his hands felt good earlier? He kept trying to initiate, and you wouldn’t let him. The room was spinning; you pressed your hands to your face.

He touched your shoulder. “I won’t touch you like that again,” he said, petting your skin tenderly. You despised it. “Would you prefer to lie down?”

That conjured a worse image. You shrugged off his touch. “No.”

The room was silent.

“I’m confused,” he said. “Would you like me to go into the other room?”

You shook your head. “No, it’ll…it’ll pass. Please, just…” You massaged your temples. “Give me a second?”

“This is about Genesis, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Pain arced through your chest, like lightning burning a tree from the inside-out. You weren’t sure what your outburst was about, other than your body betraying you for the umpteenth time. “I don’t…I’m not sure.”

Something rustled at your feet. Sephiroth’s hands appeared in your vision, offering you the crumpled bathrobe. You took it from him, but you made no move to put it on. Instead, it sat in your lap, all balled up like you had been in the tub. You worried at a loose thread. How much had this cost? Or was this free, too?

“Why don’t I get you a glass of water?” Sephiroth asked.

“Okay,” you said to the robe.

You watched, blankly, as Sephiroth straightened up and walked for the door. You looked down at the robe again.

“It’s stupid,” you said to the floor, to your bare feet on the carpet.

“What is?”

“I thought…” You pressed your thumbs to your eyes until you saw stars. You shouldn’t have said anything. “I thought….s-something…bad was gonna happen.”

“Why?”

You opened your eyes again. Sephiroth was halfway out of the room, lingering in the doorway: just turned to you, as if you had caught him mid-action. He rested his hand on the doorframe.

You sighed. “I saw…” You threw your hands up. “Seph, it really is stupid.”

His expression was tender, expectant. “No it isn’t.” He gestured at you. “Go ahead.”

“Do you…?” You had to get this out; he wasn’t going to let it go. It felt like you were at the front of the classroom, being mocked by the teacher for passing notes. “Okay.” You took a deep breath. “Do you remember…those, um, those…?” You snapped your fingers. “What are they called.”

Sephiroth smiled. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Ugh. Like those…s-stupid promo…videos or whatever.”

He inclined his head. “You’re…” He laughed and shook his head. “Going to have to be more specific.”

“The promo one! Where you and Angeal fought!” you blurted. “From ’96.”

“Which one?”

Which one? How many of these awful videos were there? Sephiroth driving his sword into Angeal, the blood in the grass, ad infinitum, on thousands of blurry screens. “The one where you, like.” You mimed stabbing someone at your feet.

He tapped his finger against the doorframe as he thought. “Ah,” he said finally, face brightening in that way you thought you were fond of. “Yes, that was a good fight.” He turned to face you, jamming his hands in his pant pockets. “Why do you ask?”

Nausea turned your stomach at how calm, even eager, he looked to discuss it. You dug your fingers into the comforter. “I, um…it. It came up in my recommended videos and I…it…”

He inclined his head towards you, silently urging you on.

“Scared me,” you whispered.

He startled. “Scared you? What about it scared you?”

“Like…just—“ You stared at the carpet. “With Genesis, and— and the— videos— I thought what if I make him mad and—“ You covered your face. “And when you held my head I was like he could just—“

You had his full attention now. You waved at him. “Seph, it was…” You sighed and put your face in your hands. “I told you,” you muttered. “Stupid.”

“Did you think I would hurt you?” he said, and his voice was small. Afraid. You never wanted him to sound like that again. You shouldn’t have said anything.

“Yes,” you sighed into your hands. “I’m sorry.”

You felt the bed dip: he had crossed the room to sit next to you. “May I hold you?”

This, you could do. You could always let him hold you.

You wanted him to.

You wordlessly turned and pressed your forehead to his shirt. He folded you into his arms, leaning over you: his warmth, his body, everything that made you feel safe and familiar and loved. Though the angle was awkward (and immediately undid his hard work back in the tub), you felt blessed relief. His hair, soft and familiar, draped over your shoulders, whispered past your cheek.

You felt, rather than heard, his voice: “I will never do that to you.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” you whispered into his shirt. He rubbed soothing circles into your back.

“No, it—“ He sighed with exasperation. “I thought you had seen those.”

“I’ve only been here for nine months,” you said into his chest. “I just don’t really pay attention to that sort of thing.”

“Oh?” he said. “That must be why you’re so normal.”

“Shinra only hires you if you’re nuts.” You pressed your ear to his shirt, just to hear the steady thmp-thmp of his heartbeat again. “It— it was in my hiring packet, at least.”

“I must have missed that clause. Here.” He released you and gestured to the robe. “You’re going to catch cold. Seriously. Put something on.”

You twisted your mouth. “Thought you wanted me undressed,” you mumbled.

Sephiroth suddenly laughed, full-throated and loud. You jumped. “Maybe later,” he said above you. “But not now. I’m starving.”

The food. “Oh!” you said, looking up at him. “I still owe you. I— I left most of it—” You pinched your index and thumb together. “I tried to eat, like, just a little of everything—”

He bumped shoulders with you before standing. “I told you,” he said, his voice trailing off as he stretched. You heard his joints crack. “A detailed review is payment enough.”

You stood up to dress, but Sephiroth was halfway out the door again. “Come on,” you said to his retreating back. “Let me throw you a couple thousand gil. Please?”

“It was a gift.” He disappeared into the kitchen beyond. “Did you eat yet?” he called.

You shifted from foot to foot. Before you could catch yourself, you looked towards the full-length mirror again, at your reflection. You had to roll up the sleeves of the robe to cross your arms properly. The old temptation to lie caught on your tongue in this place: you could say you were stuffed, really, you were. You could lure him back to bed and let him do what he wanted with you, as if letting him inside of you would make your brain stop screaming for help. At the very least, those cold, clammy kisses on your shoulder had made everything go completely still.

“No,” you said to your reflection. “I’m starving.”

“Then come out here and join me already.”

“In...this robe?”

Sephiroth laughed. The noise carried across the kitchen tile. “Yes, in your robe. There’s no dress code here.” He was rummaging around and fussing already. “We’ve done worse on these counters.”

You felt embarrassed at the memory, but that feeling of safety flared in you again. You looked down at yourself, making sure the robe was secured around your waist. After some hesitation, you pressed the bathrobe to your nose and inhaled deeply. The fluffy, baby-soft terry fabric smelled like him.

You shuffled out into the hall beyond. Sephiroth leaned against his kitchen counter, staring in concern at his phone. He chewed his bottom lip.

“Seph?” you asked.

He looked up at you, and there was something stern, even dire, in his face. You held your breath. What could you have done to anger him? Was something wrong?

“I’ve invoiced you for your share of the bill,” he said, voice grave. “You had better check your phone.”

“Oh.” You pat the robe’s pockets, but they were empty. “Shit.” You cast around for your phone; it was on the countertop, still plugged into your charger. “Let me—” There was a new notification from the Shinra messaging app sitting at the top of your home screen. “I think I get paid next week—”

“I don’t mind waiting,” Sephiroth said, still entirely serious, and you read the notification:

ShinPay User s1979 has requested 1 gil!

You groaned. Sephiroth threw back his head and laughed.

“Really?” You slumped into one of the bar chairs as he wiped tears from his eyes. “Really? You could have just told me to get you next time.”

He smirked and pushed himself up off the counter. “Ah,” he said, still watching you as he opened the fridge, “but then you’d never listen to me.” 

“Is everyone using ShinPay now?” You dismissed the notification. After a moment, you silenced your phone, too, and you put it face-down on the countertop for good measure. “Am I getting old?”

“Every minute. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” Sephiroth placed each takeout container on the counter. “I feel myself age every time my infantry shows me some new cat video.”

You leaned your cheek against the heel of your hand. “Just cat videos, specifically?”

“Some of them just aren’t funny,” he said to the fridge, and his tone was so petulant you laughed.

“Every time the new semester started at GU, I felt, like, a million years old.” You watched him heap noodles and rice onto clean plates. “It was like a nightmare where I just aged and aged, and everyone just kept getting younger around me.”

“I could use you in my company. Some of this slang is just…” Sephiroth shook his head as he placed a plate in the microwave.

“I know, but do you really want to talk like your cadets?”

Sephiroth gave you a desperate look, nose wrinkling with horror and disgust as he did so, and you giggled. 

He turned back to the microwave. “I’ve got hot pepper somewhere,” he said to it, almost thoughtfully.  “I ought to pile it on your food.”

The microwave chimed, and Sephiroth switched the plates. You crossed your arms against the countertop. “And what if I liked spicy food?”

Sephiroth handed you the plate he had just heated; the ceramic was white-hot under your hands. He gave you that affectionate smirk again. “Then I’ll make sure I’ve got hot pepper available.”

He had given you far too much food, as always: curry sauce dribbled into the fried rice, chicken mingled with shrimp. The food hissed and popped from the microwave. The abundance of it touched you, just as much as the bath, and the massage oil, and the tender hug, and the words of encouragement.

When he sat next to you with his own plate, you nudged his calf with your foot. He raised his eyebrows as he looked down at you.

“Thanks, Seph.” 

He seemed to know you weren’t talking about the food. His eyes softened, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead. This time, his mouth was just as warm and soft as you remembered.

“Don’t mention it,” he said against your skin. “I’m here for you.”

—

You watched from the living room as Sephiroth loaded the dishwasher. When he straightened up and dried his hands off on his sweatpants, you spoke up again. “Come back to bed?”

He looked at you as if he had forgotten you were there. “Are you sure?”

If anything, he looked more unsure than you did. “Just to cuddle,” you said, and you looked down and away. You fiddled with the bathrobe. “I’ll…put on my pajamas and come sit with you.”

“I can do that,” he said softly. “The bed or the couch? We can always watch a movie.”

Your reply was immediate. “Bed.” You added, “It’s so much bigger than mine at home.”

He smiled at you from under his lashes and nodded towards the bedroom. “Plenty of time to enjoy it before you go tomorrow.”

—

Once you were dressed again, you brought the robe back into the bathroom and hung it up. Sephiroth was waiting for you in bed, lying on his side. He had taken his shirt off. You instinctively reared back, until you saw the waistband of his sweatpants, just peeking out from under the comforter. 

He lifted the sheets next to him in invitation. Yes, he was wearing his sweatpants still: he wasn't going to force you. “Come here.”

You crawled into bed next to him, snuggled close under the covers. Sephiroth held you tightly to his chest, letting out a satisfied sigh. He was all warmth and solid muscle and pale skin. You nuzzled gratefully into his collarbone. He bowed his head, pressed his nose to your hair and breathed in deep.

“So…” you started.

“So.”

“What’s with the voices you do?”

Sephiroth’s rumbling voice reverberated against your cheek: “The ones telling you to quit your job and kill your boss?”

You rolled your eyes. “Never mind.”

“No, no.” A gentle hand stroked through your hair. “Enlighten me. What voices?”

“You do these…” You looked down at your nails. Your cuticles, normally dry and cracking, were so much softer. The massage oil had likely softened your skin. “The impression of Hojo, I mean. You did it so well.”

Sephiroth’s hand paused, and he laughed. “What do you mean?” You felt him shift to look down at you. “You only heard the one voice.”

“You can do more?”

He shrugged. “Just about anyone you can think of,” he replied. 

You traced the length of his side with your eyes. “How? How do you do it, I mean.”

He rolled over to lie on his back, one arm still wrapped around your shoulders, as if he was reluctant to let you go. You rested your cheek against his pectoral muscle and looked out the window with him. It was still pouring outside, the rain hitting the window in irregular tap-tap-taps.

Finally, he shook his head. “It just comes out of me. I’m not sure why. The lab assistants…” He laughed, covered his face. “They used to scream at me for it. Said it was unnatural. I think someone tried to get it banned.” 

You looked up at him. “It’s a little uncanny. It sounds like the person’s inside of you, shouting up.” You clutched at your throat and pointed at the ceiling to demonstrate. “Like, out of your mouth.” 

Sephiroth wrinkled his nose as he returned his arm to your shoulders. “Oh, god,” he said. “I certainly hope not.”

“Really?” With a fingertip, you drew aimless shapes on his chest. "You can imitate anyone?”

“Sure. Try me.”

“I’m…scared to ask what I sound like.”

Sephiroth’s face contorted with embarrassment. “Oh,” he said. “I’ve never tried.” He looked out of the window again. “I don’t wish to offend you.”

“That bad?”

“Of course not. But…” He laughed, tilted his head this way and that. “I learned that people aren’t…appreciative of it, let’s say.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Did someone get mad at you for it?”

“Of course.” He scratched the bridge of his nose. “There was a bigger guy named Samuel in my troop fifteen years ago. He used to annoy me. Such a big, brutish kid. Always cruel. We were waiting our turn to run a simulation. He jumped the line and pushed me against the wall.” 

Sephiroth’s voice changed into a brutish, unfamiliar growl: “Watch it, freak.” 

You could picture Samuel perfectly: a shaved head, broad shoulders, a pathetic, wispy mustache highlighting a permanent scowl. “And what did you do?”

Sephiroth let his head fall back against the pillow. “I said it back to him, just like that, and he knocked me out.” He smiled and looked at you out of the corner of his eye. “It was worth it to hear everyone laugh.”

Your eyes widened. You sat up. “You got concussed?”

Sephiroth shrugged. “I was fine. I was a smaller kid, so that hit laid me flat.” He rolled onto his right side, towards you, and propped himself up on his elbow. “I was more disappointed about missing the exercise.”

You rested your head on your pillow. Everything Sephiroth said opened more questions. You wanted, so badly, to ask about his training. You wanted to hear how young he was when Shinra pushed him onto the field. His eyes traveled over your face as you watched each other.

“Can you do Angeal?” you asked.

“Oh, please.” He smirked and took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was replaced by Angeal’s: “I get that we could save an hour by taking a taxi, but I would prefer we walk. It’s a nice day outside, and we could use the exercise. Cabs are so expensive these days.”

You clutched at your hair in exaggerated surprise. “What?! Seph. How?!”

Sephiroth laughed. “Here, you want Genesis?” Another deep breath, and this time, Genesis’s voice left his mouth: “Loveless, Act Fifteen, Verse 3: And should the sun rise again on another morrow.” Sephiroth raised his arm to the ceiling, eyes turning upwards in a perfect impression of fine art. “You will hear me recite this again, from the beginning.” 

You giggled. Sephiroth grinned at you as he lowered his arm. You choked out, “You are so…so mean!”

“Believe me, they hate it.” 

You slapped his chest playfully. “You have to do me. Come on.”

He suddenly withdrew his arm. He rolled over and pulled the comforter up over his body, leaving you partially exposed to the air. “Good night,” he mumbled.

“Don’t ignore me!” You shook his shoulder. “Please? I won’t be mad.”

He yanked the comforter over his head. “I can’t hear you. I’m asleep.”

“Pretty please?” You draped yourself over his body. “Pleeeease?” Hanging upside-down over his head, you tugged the edge of the comforter away from his face; his glowing eyes peered back at you in the dark. “I won’t be mad,” you said to them. “I promise I won’t.”

“Someone’s persistent.” His voice was muffled by the fabric.

“It’s not super mean, is it?”

Sephiroth shifted under you, and you rolled off of him as he sat up again. “For you?” He shook his head as he rearranged the pillows under him and leaned back. “Never.”

You laid back down on top of him. His fingers traced the curve of your cheeks with a painful fondness. You’d never get tired of his unnatural warmth, especially when the rain outside poured so heavily. You thought, again, of your steam heater, of the bloody nose you got on Monday, while you slept. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you impossibly closer to him; you draped one leg over his. Sephiroth made a little noise at your cool feet pressing against his legs, right where the sweatpant cuffs had ruched up to expose more skin. 

You gave him what you thought was your best hopeful look. He stared at you for a moment, took a deep breath-- 

“Fine,” he sighed. He ran his hand through his hair, then beckoned to you. “Give me something to say.”

You...hadn’t thought that far ahead. You cast around the room; the textbook was still sitting next to the leather armchair. “Maybe my research?” you asked.

“Doesn’t have to be your research.” He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “You could even describe the weather.”

“I feel like…” You rubbed the back of your neck. “My research will give you more material?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you’d like. Try me.” He rested his hand against his belly, so near to your shoulders.

“Let me do…the elevator pitch? How’s that?” Tried-and-true: you could recite your research proposal in your sleep.

Sephiroth smiled and raised his eyebrows at you. When you didn’t speak immediately, he nodded encouragingly: Go on.

“So…” You tried to speak slowly. “My team focuses on mako and its influence on cell growth and repair. Previous studies have isolated the protein MAT-beta in the liver, which manages oxidative—”

Sephiroth’s eyebrows furrowed. “A little slower?”

You smiled back. Just like you to rush, anyway. “Sorry. Okay.” You took in a deep breath and tried to enunciate each word. “My team studies the influence of mako on cell growth and repair. Keep going?”

“My team—” The voice was too high, too clear: a SOLDIER’s command. He cleared his throat. “No. Wait a second.” He tried again, and his next attempt was still strange to your ears: “My team studies the—” He tilted his head and beckoned again. “One more time, please?”

“My team studies the influence of—”

“My team studies the influence of—”

“—mako on cell growth and repair.”

As he repeated each phrase, his voice shifted, croaked, stretched. You heard many different people, none of them you, but each, conceivably, somewhere between your timbre and Sephiroth’s. “My team—” A shift, a minute crack in his voice. “—studies—” Another shift, this one lower. “—the influence—” 

And finally: “My team studies the influence of mako on cell growth and repair.” A perfect mirror, like listening back to an old video of yourself. Uncanny.

Your eyes widened, and you drew back from him. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Sephiroth said back, in your voice. “Is that, like, a good ‘oh’? Or…I’m sorry.” He waved a hand. “Just forget I said anything.”

And despite the uncanniness, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. It was so him to remember how you spoke. You remembered, again, that he had been thinking of you during his mission.

“Ugh!” you said, playfully wrinkling your nose at him. “I really sound like that?”

He lifted his head from the pillow with wide, disbelieving eyes. “You asked!” he laughed.

“No! It’s amazing! You have a missed calling as an actor, Seph.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it— not when he was still smiling at you like that. “The public outcry to my Sector One Live performance says otherwise.”

Of all the videos you had watched, that one had somehow eluded you. “When were you on Sector One Live?”

“A few months ago.” His hand drifted across the comforter, towards your hands: slow, tentative.“You would have thought I destroyed the set. Reena wouldn’t stop reading reviews to me—” He closed his eyes. “Look at me, assuming you know everything. I meant my publicist, Reena.”

“What did you do about it?”

His hand inched incrementally closer. “Nothing I could do,” Sephiroth replied. He looked up at the ceiling. “So…I never did it again.”

You reached out and took his hand in both of yours. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“Seph?”

He didn’t open his eyes. “Yeah?”

You drifted your fingers across the back of his hand. “In some of the interviews I saw, you didn’t…look…very happy.”

The jovial environment between you evaporated. Sephiroth turned his head away from you and stared out of the window again. You could see the two of you reflected there: faint shadows against the driving rain. His mouth twitched.

“Did you want to do them?” you whispered.

Sephiroth’s mouth twitched again. He removed his arm from your shoulders, let go of your hand.

He rose. “Let me close those curtains,” he said. Hesitating on the edge of the bed, he added, “The windows are mirrored, but…you know.” He flashed you a smile over his shoulder, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “No free shows.”

“No free shows,” you repeated. “Right.”

As Sephiroth crossed the room, you looked away from him, to the half-open closet doors. Hidden inside was that strange photo. You played with the comforter between your fingers. It would be inappropriate to ask about it now, not when Sephiroth seemed to retreat back into some dark, quiet place, hiding from you. The curtains squealed as he pulled them shut.

For a long time, Sephiroth stood there at the window, clutching the curtains hard in both hands. He turned his head, just enough for you to see his quiet expression. He was looking at the ground, at a precarious stack of books near the leather armchair.

“I thought I followed instructions,” he said, as if to himself. “How am I meant to behave when everyone’s looking at me like that?”

“For what it’s worth,” you offered, “You make me laugh.”

A pause.

Sephiroth turned back to you. “Probably time for me to turn in.” He was wearing that absent smile again. “You’re welcome to join me, but if not, I have a reading lamp you can use.”

You glanced towards his alarm clock, and—

“It’s ten already?” you asked. “Shit.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.” 

You had forgotten that he had just come straight from work, straight into your arms, straight into a—

A panic attack.

“Oh, Seph.” You backed away from his side of the bed and winced. “You had such a long day. ‘M sorry.” 

The absent smile turned wry. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

You had the urge to hold him close, to cradle his head against your chest, as you had done the week before. You opened your mouth—

“Ah.” He snapped his fingers. “Laundry.” He gave you an exasperated look, touching his forehead briefly. “I almost forgot. I must finally be losing it.”

It all came back in a rush: the tights were still in the dryer. You sat up in bed. “Wait,” you said, “I still—” 

But Sephiroth was already halfway out of the room. You swung your legs over the edge of the mattress. Your voice was a weak, half-hearted bleat: “I have stuff in there—”

“I’ve got it,” he said gently. “I’ll put them in your bag.”

Your feet hadn’t even touched the carpet before he was gone. You heaved a sigh and crawled back under the covers. There was some jealous part of you that hated how Sephiroth got to surprise you first. You hadn’t been able to return the favor. 

The moment the thought hit you, you recoiled with disgust. What were you doing? Why did you think of him this way? What prompted this ugly, impulsive side in you?

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, let the smell of his apartment wash over you. He was safe. He was being kind. You appreciated everything he had done. You would surely pay him back eventually. You could buy some other surprise for him. You repeated the thoughts to yourself, over and over: he’s safe he’s kind you’re safe you can pay him back later he’s safe he’s—

“Oh,” sighed Sephiroth from the kitchen. “What a shame.”

You sat up again. “What? What’s wrong?”

The rustle of fabric. “I think the dryer ate your clothes.”

Dread sunk its claws into your belly. It looked like you would have to buy something else for him. “Oh, no.”

“I’ll show you.” Footsteps, and then Sephiroth appeared in the doorway.

And—

He was holding the tights. They were intact.

Oh, no.

To your mortification, Sephiroth held out the tights for you to inspect. “These seem ripped,” he said sadly. “I’m afraid the dryer isn’t the most—”

“Seph, no,” you blurted. “They came like that.”

He blinked and looked down at the tights. “Oh.”

And then, as you watched, his eyes went wide. A blush started at the tips of his ears and crept down his neck, under the collar of his shirt. He looked up at you. He cleared his throat.

“Oh,” he said.

Whatever reaction you expected, it wasn’t that one. You wrung your hands in your lap. “Yeah, it was…supposed to be a nice surprise.”

Sephiroth bunched the tights against his chest. His mouth had a funny turn to it, and it wasn’t until you saw his deerlike, stricken expression, how he stared just past your left ear instead of meeting your eye, that you realized it wasn’t disgust, or even just embarrassment. 

It was want: boyish, mortified desire, something vulnerable and desperate. Like you were special. 

The urge to hold him close hit you all over again. You couldn’t let anyone else have him. You couldn’t. The Silver Elite would destroy him; they would tear him to pieces, like ravenous animals. Any other man who had touched him hadn’t appreciated this tenderness, else they’d become just like you: a possessive little creature, completely and utterly his.

You smiled gently at him; his eyes fell to the tights. You took a deep breath. “I…take it you like them?”

His voice came out in a breathless rush: “I’m cursing Heidegger’s entire department right now.”

“Sorry you couldn’t see them in action.”

Sephiroth turned his head away from you, hiding his face. He cleared his throat. “You’ll have to wear them next time.” His voice cracked on wear them.

Go to next chapter >>>

[hoshiseon]

✍️ Fic authors self rec!

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to other writers you know. Let's spread some self-love! 💛

ahhh thank u maya for sending me this!! <3

unfortunately, i don't have 5 fics posted here yet 😭but i'll do 2 drabbles that i've posted & 3 wips :p (& i'll give a little snippet of each) MDNI bc some are... suggestive

✦ desire | ot8 vampire!atz fic {snippet of ch.2}

“we apologize for having you wait so long, there were some… issues about sleeping arrangements but whenever you’re ready i’d be more than happy to show you to one of the guest rooms.” yunho says politely with his hands clasped behind his back. the whole ordeal feels like customer service and i have to stifle a laugh at the overly formal way they both speak. seonghwa glances at him out his periphery but just as quickly looks back to me and offers me a polite smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. why he's being so odd is beyond me, seeing as he was the one to bring me here and insist on me staying in the first place. his behavior causes me to hesitate, slowly closing my book and tucking it underneath my arm. yunho still stands with a gentle smile on his face but by the way his eyes flick over to seonghwa, i can tell he can sense my hesitation. i look between the two once more before huffing and pushing to my feet, running my hands over the wrinkles in my skirt. neither of the men wait for me to say anything, yunho turns to hold open the door and seonghwa bows in my direction before maneuvering out the door. i quirk a brow at the space seonghwa left before following yunho out into the hall.

✦ goosebumps | bf!yunho smut drabble {completed!}

“you okay, baby? you haven't said anything about the movie for the past 15 minutes now.” he asked, feigning concern. 

you just let out a meek hum of approval, not even really hearing what he said. yunho smirked though you couldn't see it. he let his hands trail up your thighs, playing with the ends of your (his) t-shirt. you took in a shaky breath when you felt his lips close to your ear. 

“what’s got you so quiet, kitten?” he whispered, lips now trailing down to your neck, leaving the softest kisses in their wake. 

“nothing.” you said way too fast, your voice unstable. you felt the chuckle that reverberated in his chest as his hands were now underneath the shirt you were wearing. he was only lightly touching your skin but you felt like everywhere he touched was leaving sparks of heat. how this man got you so needy for him so fast was beyond you. your eyes fluttered shut as he started to press actual kisses to your neck and shoulders, lightly sucking on the area near your ear. 

✦ untitled bbfs!yungi smut drabble {WIP; unedited}

a few minutes later, yunho heard the sounds of soft snoring coming from behind him and turned, the sight nearly causing his heart to crawl straight out his chest. there you and mingi were, sleeping so soundly on his bed. you cuddling with his pillow. yunho had to hold back from cooing out loud as he watched mingi’s head rise and fall with the movement of your breathing, the other man’s mouth hung open as he snored. in truth, the scene was nothing new. yunho had an entire folder on his phone filled with pictures of you and mingi napping together. if you came over while yunho was out teaching a dance class, it was almost guaranteed he’d come back home to see the two of you huddled up under blankets on the couch with an anime long forgotten on the TV. but never once had he seen it happen right in his own bedroom, on his own bed. it sent a tingly warmth through his chest as he thought about how nice it’d be to come home to this everyday. his two favorite people in the entire world, finding comfort in his space. 

✦ movie night | bff!junhui smut drabble {WIP; unedited}

even though it's not a created album, the hidden album highlighted in blue text underneath your other albums catches his attention. jun imagines what you could possibly have put in there and snorts a laugh to himself. it's probably embarrassing pictures you have of yourself or the boys, or maybe inappropriate memes. he figures he's got nothing to lose and clicks the album. of course, it's locked but he knows you well enough and he's smart so figuring out the password takes him barely 2 seconds. his suspicions are confirmed as he scrolls up through the album and sees a multitude of pictures you've taken of the other boys. but as he scrolls further the pictures change… now he's looking at pictures of you, some taken in your mirror with your ambience lighting set on purple or red, some taken while you're in bed, and they're nothing scandalous maybe a little suggestive but really why do you even hide these? none of them are even that bad… junhui stops in his tracks, thumb hovering over your phone. the photos he's looking at now can't be you. there's no way. his sweet, quiet, funny, inexperienced best friend cannot possibly have taken these pictures. but as he presses one to enlargen it, he sees that it most definitely is you. you half-naked, sitting up on your knees with a pillow stuffed in between the space created by your legs and the mattress. the hem of the large tee you're wearing is in your mouth as you display the sexy set of black lace underneath. jun feels like he might die. he swipes. the next photo isn't any better. in fact, it's much worse and as he continues swiping he has an inkling that the rest of the album is like this too. raunchy, lewd photos of you in your bed or bathroom. some your tits are fully on display, some you're only in a large tee, some you're only in lingerie. and all of them make his head spin and blood rush straight to his cock. 

✦ sharing is caring | poly, bfs!gyuhao smut drabble {WIP; unedited}

“uhm… yeah i’m fine… just thinking.” you said, nerves getting to you and making you opt out of saying what was really on your mind. you knew it was silly to still be nervous around the two of them but you couldn’t help it. you could feel the energy in the tiny kitchen of your guys’ apartment shift as the tension only grew with the prolonged silence. the two knew you well enough to pick up on not only the nervous lilt in your voice but also your body language. the way you were shifting your weight, avoiding eye contact, and picking at your clothes all clear indicators that there was definitely more than you were actually saying. 

“___, you can tell us whatever’s on your mind,” you looked up at minghao as he spoke gently to you. “when have we ever judged you?” he asked, head tilting slightly. you looked away again, drawing in a dramatic breath and looking up towards the ceiling. damn him and his extremely convincing eyes.

“i was… i was thinking about the last time we were all together.” you rushed out still staring up at the ceiling, refusing to look at either of them as you finally confessed to the thoughts plaguing you. 

minghao knew exactly what you were talking about. he did the moment he picked up on how nervous you were, he just wanted you to admit it. mingyu, on the other hand, was still trying to decipher what you were (not) saying.“...what about it?”, mingyu piped up, expression resembling a confused puppy with the way his head was still tilted. he was trying to recall the last time you were all together… oh. you and minghao saw the realization hit him as his eyes flicked between the both of you. hao smirked amusedly before looking back at you. you finally made eye contact with him, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

★ note: this drabble is actually for @angelwonie (in response to an ask she sent a while ago) I PROMISE I'LL GET TO IT BAEFIE 😭

[nellyofthevalley]

truths, ch.1

astarion x fem!tav rating: explicit

content: piv sex, fingering, biting/blood drinking, emotionally repressed losers who can't communicate, angst I guess

summary: this fic is mostly an excuse to write a bunch of dialogue bouncing around in my head. astarion is a sad little idiot who turns his fears into a self-fulfilling prophecy because he never learned how to love. it may or may not turn into a tragedy

“As I told you—you broke my cold, dead heart. Of course it was cruel,” Astarion says, melodramatic, hamming it up for her. He wants her to feel guilty for it; he wants her to stop being so tiring and play right into his hand. Make it easy for him.“I don’t believe you,” Tav says. “Everything you say sounds like a pretty lie, and you all but told me that’s what it is. Pretty lies. I’m not interested.”

chapters: ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3 | ch.4 | ch.5 | ch.6 | ch.7 | ch.8

read it on ao3 or below the cut

Camping in the Underdark is unsettling, to say the least. The party hears noises in the distance, reminiscent of the howl of wolves or the songs of birds on the surface, but here, the sounds are warped and unrecognizable, and when they travel, they never meet the creatures that match the sound. Their party travels lighter with fewer bodies, having stricter lookout shifts with more on nighttime patrol. Tonight is Lae’zel and Shadowheart on shift, and Tav can imagine that’s going well. After all, it was only a few days ago they’d been at each others throats. 

At least they are speaking to one another—Astarion hasn’t talked to her for days. Not since she turned him down at the tieflings’ celebration at camp, back by the grove. It would be fine, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s so obvious and awkward; he is clearly avoiding her, and she doesn’t know how to handle it. Avoid him? Act normal? What is normal anymore, anyway? 

She hadn’t meant to let him down so callously; how smug and fake he sounded finally got on her nerves. She didn’t expect him to seem so wounded by it. He was so good at putting on a fake face and fake words, so why was he surprised that she’d rejected him? What did he expect?

‘I’ve gotten on my back ten thousand times or more and forgotten half of them,’ he’d said after. ‘But you... you I’ll remember.’

The words linger in her mind like a parasite, fighting for space with her tadpole. It bothers her that she can’t let this go. Were they just more pretty words he spouted to get her in bed again, or something else? For a moment, it almost seemed like his facade had cracked when he said it. For all she knows, that could've been a performance as well. 

This evening, Tav finds herself in Halsin’s company while she works at her braids, discussing the road ahead. It won’t be long before they’re met with the shadow-cursed lands, and out of them all, Halsin knows the most. He recounts his studies on the curse and tadpole, eager to head off to their next destination despite the danger. Halsin clearly feels a certain responsibility to the cursed lands, though he’s also struggling with leaving the grove behind. 

“They’ll be fine without you—they’re tough,” Tav offers, doing her best to provide some kind of comfort. “You’ll be missed, I’m sure. I’m glad you’re with us, we’re lucky to have you.”

“I remain optimistic that Francesca will strive in my old position. Still, it is difficult to leave my home behind,” he says. “I’m afraid the city will be an even harder adjustment for me. The busy streets and crowds are a far cry from the comforts of nature.”

“There, there, Halsin,” Gale chimes in, joining the group by the campfire. “You might be pleasantly surprised. I admit, the city park has nothing on your lovely grove, but, well. You share the pursuit of knowledge, I assume? Baldur’s Gate is home to many wonderful things—the best of which being an extraordinary bookstore known as Sorcerous Sundries.”

Gale likes to hear Gale talk, so Tav backs off and lets him engage with Halsin in her stead. Her attention turns toward the campfire on this particularly cold night, stretching her arms and hands out in front of her, taking in the warmth it provides. Her own tent is dull and cold, so she can find sleep only once the boys have talked all they can talk and finally leave, allowing her the silence needed to rest.

Tav glances over at Astarion’s tent, and unsurprisingly, he’s nowhere to be found. Likely off hunting, she thinks. Ever since the party and their strange little silent treatment pact started, he’s been getting his fill elsewhere. She used to provide for him—to help him be ‘stronger, fight better,’ as he’d argued. Now, things were too tense to invite him back. 

She finds herself wondering if he’s chasing animals or people. It’s none of her business who he feeds from, but she can’t deny the slight twinge of jealousy eating at her, at the thought of him having his needs met from another ‘thinking’ creature. 

‘Truth be told, you were my first,’ he’d said. Tav felt shame as her cheeks flushed. His first. Something about that sounded so… personal.

Her attention snaps back to the present, settling into the bed roll by the fire, watching the flames frolic. As her eyes start to drift away, the need for sleep washing over her, the sounds of the wilderness become duller, drowned out. She didn’t realize how tired she was, how exhausting this day had been. Her muscles relax, sight fades, and thoughts morph into concepts as she drifts away to the warm comfort of sleep. 

Tav wakes in a sweat. Her skin feels like it’s melting, like she’s being boiled alive; her hands rush to her face, and when she touches herself, the skin oozes off her bones, flowing down her fingers and arms. She tries to scream, and nothing comes out, her mouth a gooey mess dripping onto the ground beneath her.

She tries to stand and flee, but her ankles are already turning into liquid fire. Her body lowers, slowly liquifying into the ground below. She’s helpless, a lost cause; an existence destined to fade away and be lost forever. A voice—her voice—tells her so, tells her ‘give up’.

Tav wakes again, this time with an audible scream. She instinctively jumps out of bed, rising to her knees; hands rush to touch her face again, relief and surprise coursing through her body as she realizes she’s still there. All of her, in one piece; not melting away as her dreams try to convince her. 

She sits upright and tears flow from her eyes, frustrated—these dreams keep happening to her, and she doesn’t understand it. The campfire is all except gone, hardly any flame or heat remains. 

“Tav!” Shadowheart calls to her, running and kneeling beside her. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine, I think,” she gets out, looking over her fingers and feet again, as if she has to remind herself they’re still there, still real. “Just… having nightmares.”

“Chk. If a dream bothers you that much, I question your sanity,” Lae’zel comments in her typical, apathetic tone, approaching the duo. “Soon you may develop a fever, grow tentacles, become ghaik at last—the moment you do, I’ll be ready to strike.”

Tav rolls her eyes, prodding at the campfire, hoping to reignite the tiny flame. Despite her dream, the air is cold, and her bedroll isn’t enough. Shadowheart and Lae’zel head off in separate directions to resume their patrol, and Tav catches Shadowheart glancing back at her on their way out. She seems genuinely concerned for Tav, and it’s nice to know someone does. The others are either sleeping peacefully in their tents or pretending to. Tav wishes it’s the former, hating to make a scene. 

The campfire crackles again, a little flame rising from the wood. It’s a much needed comfort, though not enough to relax and find sleep again. Tav lays on her bedroll, looking up at nothing besides a dark abyss and the faint glow of mushrooms growing far above. 

“Well, didn’t you cause quite the scare?” says a familiar voice—Astarion.

Tav jumps in surprise, leaning up onto her elbows to see him walking over from his tent. The last person she expected to see tonight. 

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” she replies, a bit more haughty than intended. 

Knowing sleep will escape her for some time, she concedes and rises from the bedroll to sit on the log bench by the fire. It’s a silent invitation, how she leaves room for Astarion to join, and he accepts. The atmosphere is quiet, save for a few indescribable sounds in the distance, the very same type they’d learned to accept in the Underdark. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Tav says, willing to make the first move. 

“Darling, I’d say you’ve been avoiding me,” he answers, and it prompts Tav to realize he might be right; maybe it was all in her head and she played a one-sided game. “Tell me about your dreams.”

“What? Why?”

“Can’t I simply wonder what troubles you at night? Our ‘fearless leader’, who shows no weaknesses—yet you wake with a scream, and you weep because of it,” he says, revealing he’s been listening to it all. “Call me worried if it makes you feel better about it.”

“Are you worried about me?” Tav asks, staring daggers at him, challenging him to take off his mask. 

“Possibly,” Astarion answers with a dramatic shrug. “Or maybe I’m curious and you owe me. I told you plenty of my past, of my nightmares, and then you kept your secrets and so cruelly denied me your company. I think you can spare me a sentence or two, dear.”

She can’t tell how much of this is an act and how much isn’t. He’s putting on his usual theatrics, his dramatic tone and way of storytelling, but it’s hard to see beyond it this time. She’s certain he wants to know; she’s not certain if it’s because he’s worried. Or if he is serious about perceiving her rejection as cruel. 

“There’s not much to tell,” Tav offers, now looking away, down to her fingers and the soil beneath her feet. “Tonight, I dreamt my skin was melting off—that’s it. Sometimes, I dream that I’m drowning. Stupid, right? It’s different from other dreams I’ve had. Feels more… real. I feel the pain as my skin turns into lava, I feel my lungs fill with water. Harder to acclimate to reality when I wake.”

She pauses to let him comment, and he says nothing. He’s not even looking at her anymore. He’s staring at the ground too, like they’re looking at the same thing. There’s nothing there besides the dirt and weeds. 

“Did you really think I was cruel?”

“As I told you—you broke my cold, dead heart. Of course it was cruel,” Astarion says, melodramatic, hamming it up for her. He wants her to feel guilty for it; he wants her to stop being so tiring and play right into his hand. Make it easy for him. 

“I don’t believe you,” Tav says. “Everything you say sounds like a pretty lie, and you all but told me that’s what it is. Pretty lies. I’m not interested.”

“It’s not all pretty lies,” he rebukes, almost sounding like he’s taking offense to her skepticism. It’s frustration that he has to work so much harder with her.  “Some of them are ugly, others are pretty truths.”

“Oh? Enlighten me, what truths have you told?”

“That I miss petty vanity,” Astarion answers, keeping it simple; refusing to give more, what she wants him to give. “How it’s hard not to have fun with you.” That one is merely a consolation prize. 

“Is that all?” Tav asks, wondering if ‘fun’ he means that he enjoys himself with her, or if it’s how he so evidently enjoys messing with her. Toying with her emotions.

“For tonight, yes. That’s all you get. You can continue guessing at the rest.”

Astarion meets her gaze now, giving her those sad, red eyes. It might be an act, it might not be—he doesn’t even know himself. It reminds her of the look he wore when she turned him down, and she questions whether that was an act as she’d initially thought. He finds himself entranced by how the orange light from the flames bounce off her pale lavender skin.

He leans into her, watching to see if she recoils or pushes him away. Instead, she keeps staring at him, wide-eyed, and he senses her heart pace a little faster. She smells faintly like blueberries. He can’t resist moving in closer, nose nearly touching her neck and taking in her scent, thinking of how he’ll never get to taste them again; he’ll have to settle for the aroma.

Tav is convinced he’s going to bite her, and she knows she should stop him, but she doesn’t. She braces, waiting for it, and it doesn’t come. Astarion pulls away, and before he can decide where to go from here, she’s taking the initiative and pressing her lips to his. 

His hand instinctively raises to cup her face, deepening the kiss, pushing his mouth to hers like he wants to bruise her. It’s not him, he thinks; it’s something else, something he can’t control.  His tongue seeks entry and she doesn’t deny it, parting her lips with a little sound that he swears makes his stopped heart start again, for only a second. 

When he turns to unbutton her night shirt, movements methodical and practiced, she stops him and pulls away. 

“You don’t want this?” he asks. 

“I do,” she says, that defeated look in her eyes that he can’t tolerate. “Not like this.”

It unnerves him that he knows exactly what she means. How she saw right through him, how she could so easily read his hand movements, experienced and suave; understood another way. How he can’t even bring himself to deny it. She really isn’t like his other conquests. She is special.

She is difficult. 

Astarion moves to leave, to go think about this, or at least think about how to avoid thinking about it, but she grabs his wrist to stop him. He looks back at her, astonished by her audacity, her ability to bother him so.

‘Stay?’ her face asks, and he doesn’t know how to say no or yes. He just sits right back where he was, mind swimming; though not a single one of the swimmers composes a coherent, tangible thought. 

“Darling, you’re freezing,” he observes, picking up on the goose flesh spreading across her arms, and shakes so small, Tav hasn’t even noticed them. The campfire burns away; somehow it’s still not enough to warm her.

“I suppose I am,” she says. “I’d better get used to it. I find it difficult to believe that our journey will be getting much more comfortable anytime soon.”

Astarion sheds his coat, placing it around her shoulders, wondering what he’s fucking doing the entire time.

“It’s always cold for me,” he offers, like he has to justify himself, “and you wear it better.”

[vamossainz55]

Moonlight Ch. 6 | Carlos Sainz Jr. x Reader

hello !! chapter six is done heheh. have been in a hyperfocused state and wrote a long chapter. it's a bit choppy since the first scene should have been in ch. 5 but i hope its okay <3. i really enjoyed writing this chapter so i hope you guys enjoy reading it ! this chapter is also extra long compared to the others !! please feel free to leave constructive criticism ! its always appreciated. all the love <3

warning: lots of lots drinking, swearing (maybe, i dont remember hehe), and that's all for now <3

moonlight masterlist and summary here

read chapter five here

Chapter 6 (6.6k words)

Carlos is pulling up to your lobby a bit more than an hour later. If you were being honest you were exhausted, your emotions having drained every little bit of energy you had left. It’s almost midnight and you wonder whether Bastien was already back but you couldn’t even bother to check your phone to see if he had texted you, figuring that you’d find out when you’d make it upstairs. The car is coming into a slow halt and you look over at Carlos with a small smile. 

“Thanks for the drive.” You say quietly. Your eyes are puffed up still and your nose is red from all the sniffling and blowing but you don’t even feel embarrassed at this point. 

“Of course, always.” He says, running a hand through his hair as he peeks towards the lobby. “You’re gonna be okay yeah?” He checks and you give him a nod. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just been a long week.” You say, wanting to brush it off. Carlos’ gaze shifts from you to a spot behind you but before you turn to look there’s a small tap on your window and you frown a little bit. 

Bastien’s peering through the window and his eyes go from Carlos to you and it takes you a second for you to realise it's him. “Fuck- Bastien,” You murmur, too tired to even feel angry anymore. Carlos shifts a bit and to your surprise you hear him unbuckle his seatbelt before he’s opening the door to step out. What was he doing?

You quickly scramble with your seatbelt, taking it off and opening the door once Bastien had stepped back to give you space to do so.

“Hello, you must be Carlos.” You hear Bastien say as you’re stepping out of the car. Carlos is circling around the car to get to you both, offering his hand out. 

“Yeah, yeah, hi. You must be Bastien.” He says just as Bastien takes his hand to shake. The air is thick and the tension is lingering around the both of them and it almost feels nauseating. You’re confused as to what’s happening so you can’t think of anything to say but Bastien speaks up anyways. 

“Sorry I wasn’t able to make it to the event. I wasn't feeling too well.” He says and the lie rolls off his tongue a bit too easily and although Carlos already knew the truth he doesn’t seem to act like it. 

“Ah- no worries mate. It happens, I hope you feel better soon.” Carlos says, flashing a smile that you knew was far from real. 

The breeze soon has you shivering since you had forgotten your jacket but before you know it Bastien is swinging his over your shoulders. You murmur a thanks as you pull it closer around you, looking over at Carlos. You’re wanting to end the conversation but Bastien beats you to speaking. 

“Where did you guys go?” He asks and there’s a small edge in his voice that lets you know it wasn’t just a simple question. 

Carlos seems to pick it up too, answering “Ah- Lando and I took her to McDonalds and the park. I just drove her home afterwards.” 

Bastien gives him a nod before turning to you and pecking you on your lips. “Well, thanks for taking her out.” He says before turning to you. You look at him for a bit before realising he’s waiting for you to say goodbye and you go to Carlos to give him a quick hug. 

“Bye, I took the rest of the week off, so I’ll see you when you’re back from testing?” You say softly and Carlos’ smile falters just a bit.

“Ah right. Yeah. I’ll see you soon then.” He says, giving you a small smile still before looking at Bastien. “Enjoy the rest of your time here.” He says before turning to go back to the driver’s side. 

You go over to Bastien and let out a soft sigh. He’s leaning down to give you another kiss but this time you’re moving away. 

“Don’t kiss me, I’m pissed at you right now.” You say sharply as you both make it up the stairs and into the lobby. 

“I figured. I’m sorry I ditched before.” Bastien says and you can’t help but scoff as you press the button to call the elevator. 

“You’re not sorry.” You say, rolling your eyes. 

“I am, really. I didn’t think you’d care. You wanted to spend time tomorrow anyways.” Bastien says.

“I don’t want to talk about this tonight Bastien. I shouldn’t even need to explain this to you” You say, shaking your head. Bastien wants to say something else but you stop him before he speaks. 

“I’m tired. Can we do this tomorrow?” You ask and Bastien gives you a nod so you both decide to park the issue for the next day.  

___________________

You’re too embarrassed to admit that you had forgiven Bastien the next morning. You tried to stay angry for as long as you could but the truth is that it was near impossible to stay mad at him. Bastien had this charm to him that more often than not let him get away with almost anything.

He had explained to you that he had bumped into a really good friend he had gone to highschool with and before they knew it there were plenty of drinks in his system and he was far too tipsy to show up to the showcasing and that he had forgotten to give you a heads up.

You were a bit annoyed still but he had begged for forgiveness by bringing you breakfast in bed and after a few kisses and then some more your mind was fuzzy and you had almost forgotten about the night all together. Almost.  

“Come on, you can’t be mad at me forever.” He had said, hovering on top of you and giving you the same stupid smile that always had you blushing. “We need to spend as much time as we can now since we missed the whole day yesterday already.”  His hands had started to roam at your sides, trying his best to tickle you and that’s when you had cracked.

He stopped once you were in a fit of giggles, smiling wide at you. “I love you, so so much.” He had promised, making sure to cover every single part of your face and neck in kisses and soon enough you were promising the words back, telling him to never ditch you like that again. 

By the time noon rolled up you both were ready to go out. He had planned out a whole day for you too, saying that it was his way to make up for the day before. And it was always like this, whenever he has his full attention on you you feel like you’re floating. It’s almost sickening how much he could make you feel in so little time. 

To your surprise though, you end up going with Bastien to the airport with your own luggage. The second to the last night Bastien was there you had gotten a call from Tom, his words had been “Pack your bags, you’re coming with us for pre-season testing.” 

You were ecstatic when you had heard the news, thanking him profusely. It was confusing to get such a sudden call, especially since you hadn't expected it. Apparently it had been a last minute decision (thanks to Tom really, who had managed to persuade Zak and other team members to let you join). Bastien had given you a smile when you told him the news, although it quickly followed up with a question of who else was going but there wasn’t much of a fuss when you told him. 

“I think the team is already here.” You say looking over at your phone when you get a text from Tom mentioning which gate they were all at. Thankfully Bastien had a nearby gate so you both decided to head there together. You give Bastien a heads up that the team was probably going to ask him about why he hadn’t shown up to the showcasing, just so he wouldn’t be too surprised. 

You see a group of white and orange from afar by the gates and you realise you’ve found them all clustered together. To your surprise, Lando and Carlos were also there. 

“Well, if it isn’t the two lovebirds.” Lando says once you’re close enough. You roll your eyes at him before you’re turning a bit to Bastien. 

“Babe, this is Lando, the other McLaren driver that I was talking to you about.” You smile and Bastien nods, reaching to Lando to give him a handshake and a smile as well. 

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you.” He says, giving him a quick look over before he’s looking at Carlos and greeting him too with a small wave. “Nice seeing you again.” He greets before you’re taking his hand. 

“I’m gonna take him to say hi to some of the rest of the team, and Tom.” You say before quickly heading out. The team was more than happy to meet Bastien and your boyfriend had apologised to Tom for missing the event, gratefully thanking him for the ticket as well. You keep your fingers intertwined with Bastien’s as he explains to Tom what he does for work and you can’t help but let your eyes drift a bit, feeling a gaze on you. You crane your neck a bit before seeing Carlos with Lando still although the pair are talking softly and looking at you both. You flash them a smile before you’re looking back at Tom and at Bastien. 

As always Tom is needed somewhere so both you and Bastien head back to the drivers. “Hey, sorry Tom had a lot of questions.” You chuckle, shifting when Bastien settles behind you. He wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on your head, pulling you as close as he could. He’s not the type to be very touchy in public but you revel in it a bit, knowing that you both were going to be apart for a while soon. You notice Carlos’ eyes look over you both and his gaze fixates on Bastien’s arms. 

“No worries, we were just talking about what we should do in Barcelona, Carlos has a lot of recommendations,” Lando grins, giving Carlos a nudge. That’s when you realise Carlos had zoned out, looking at Lando a bit confused. 

“Hm?” He asks before his eyes meet yours and then Bastien’s. There’s a brief moment of silence as he tries to process what Lando had said. He somehow manages though, nodding, “Yeah- We should go around the city, there’s a restaurant or two that I need Lando to try. He’s a picky eater though.” Carlos chuckles and you smile when Lando pokes at Carlos’ side, telling him no. 

“Ay, don’t poke me.” Carlos laughs which has you laughing too. 

“How long are you guys gonna be there?” Bastien asks, shifting to stand next to you this time. His arm shifts around your waist though still holding you close. 

“We’re gonna be there for two weeks give or take. We have four days to test each week.” Carlos says with Lando nodding along in agreement. 

Bastien shifts a bit and looks at you this time. “You too? Two weeks?” He asks and you look over at him before nodding. 

“Yeah, yeah. Two weeks.” You smile and he nods, giving your lips a peck before squeezing your waist. 

“That’s going to be fun. You need to send me a lot of photos and stuff.” He says and you’re surprised he isn’t making much of a fuss out of it but you’re grateful for it. 

“Anyways, I need to go.” he says and you’re checking the time. 

“Let me drop you off and I’ll come back.” You offer but Bastien is shaking his head, cupping your cheek instead.

“It’s good, I’m sure you'd rather stay with them instead.”  There’s an edge in his tone but he says iit so softly that you barely catch it, and the comment comes out of nowhere and it takes you a second to realise what he had said. He leans down though and gives you a kiss. 

“What?” You ask once he pulls away, instead of answering you he pulls you in for a hug. You instinctively hug him back, still perplexed on whether you had heard him correctly or not. 

“I said it's a good babe. I don’t want you to walk back alone.” He says before giving you another kiss. Once he’s pulled away his eyes don’t even meet yours first but you notice he’s looking straight at Carlos. “Bye, hope you enjoy the trip and good luck with the testing.” He says, addressing both drivers.

“Don’t enjoy the trip too much though.” he says the last part before he’s looking at you with a smile. 

“Bye babe I love you.” He says before you’re nodding back at him. 

“I love you too,” You say, watching him walk off. You wait until he’s gone before you roll your eyes, turning to look over at Carlos and Lando. Carlos is clearly a bit tense, and you can see his jaw is clenched. 

“What was that about?” Lando asks after a small beat of silence and you’re suddenly embarrassed by your boyfriend’s behaviour. 

“Sorry,” You say softly, shaking your head. “We’ve been a bit weird since I moved here and I think he’s a bit jealous.” You say. Carlos seems to find it funny, scoffing a bit before crossing his arms over his chest. 

“A bit?” he asks before shaking his head. “Don’t know what he should even be jealous about.” He mutters under his breath, clearly annoyed now too. 

“Hey, ignore him. I’m sorry for that.” You say softly, this time reaching over to grab his hat off his head. Carlos’ hair unravels a bit and you chuckle softly at the sight of the messy mop. You hug the hat to your chest when Carlos scowls, running his hand through his hair to tidy it a bit, 

“Give it back.” he says, dodging Lando’s move to try to mess up his hair again. You shake your head, looking over the hat before adjusting the size. 

“I think it looks better on me.” You chuckle, making sure to bend the bill of the cap as it was a bit too flat still for your liking. Once you’re happy with it you put it on your head, grinning at the two drivers. 

“You look awful in it.” Carlos says shaking his head but he doesn’t make a move to take it off you. Lando on the other hand teases Carlos telling him that it suited you more which only made you laugh. 

___________________

The next morning you were half asleep going to the breakfast buffet of the hotel. You had all gotten to the hotel in the evening straight from the airport since you had had a late afternoon flight. To be fair you had enough time to sleep but you weren’t able to fall asleep because of how nervous you were. 

You looked around the hotel’s restaurant once you entered and you smiled when you saw Tom and Carlos sitting together. Of course Tom was the one to wave you over and you nod, pointing to the food so he would know you were getting something first. By the time you get at the table they’re both finishing up their coffee. 

“How are you?” Tom asks you and you smile grabbing your cutlery.

“Good, I’m really excited to see the car running, I barely got any sleep. How are you?” You asked, watching Tom slowly get up. 

He pats Carlos on the back before he answers. “Good, good. Sorry I actually need to go. Need to make a few calls and then we can leave to the circuit hm? The cars will start leaving by nine.” He says before he’s giving you a smile and heading off. 

Carlos crosses his arms on the table this time, resting his chin on his shoulder as he looks over at you. You’re taking a bite of your toast, making eye contact with him. “What?” You ask, covering your mouth since you were beginning to chew. 

“Nothing. We just haven’t caught up in a while.” He says and you nod a bit, reaching for your orange juice. 

“It’s not like we catch up a lot.” You tease him giving him a funny look and Carlos rolls his eyes before poking your arm. 

“Just wanted to make sure you’re feeling okay,” He says and you let out a soft laugh.

“I’m fine, sorry for the whole thing on Valentine’s day,” You say sincerely, setting your fork down. You turn a bit to him to properly look at him. “I was just really emotional and stressed, and with the whole Bastien thing it wasn’t a good combination. But we’re good now.” Your voice lowers a bit at the end of your sentence so Carlos had leaned closer to listen. 

“Ah, yeah? Okay then. I’m glad.” He says before giving you a smile and a thumbs up. “Anyways, I can let you in on the plan Lando and I have and of course you can tag along.” He says, changing topics before taking out his phone to show you his itinerary. 

Apparently the four days of testing were nothing but intense, it was constant running around and crunching numbers, making sure that every little detail was noted down and used for the next run. It was amazing to be this up close again to the track and just to hear all the cars driving was amazing. You were a bit intimidated if you were being honest, there was so much going on and although you were used to seeing the McLaren team run around, throwing the other drivers and other teams into the mix had your mind buzzing. You couldn’t help yourself but to fawn a bit about the other teams, but you did keep yourself (mostly) focused. 

One thing was clear though after the first week of testing wrapped up, you were exhausted. You had been running around the garage, sending emails, information, and everything necessary to the McLaren HQ along with attending meetings with Tom and practically shadowing him in everything. Because of this, more than anything you were really busy and when you weren’t you were too tired to do anything.

The last day of the first week of testing had finished and you had stayed a bit longer with Tom to finalise some information. Tom had been rattling on as usual about the finest details, and although you appreciated how in depth he liked to go, you were exhausted. Tom seems to clock you zoning out because he lets out a soft chuckle. 

“I’m sorry, I’m going on a tangent again.” he confesses before shaking his head. “In summary we just need to make sure we can keep the car up. Overall Carlos says the breaks feel good, and there’s not too much oversteer. So, we can just keep up and try our best to maximise the last four days to collect data.” He says and you give him a sheepish smile. 

“I’m sorry.” You chuckle, rubbing your eyes but Tom promises you he’s okay before he’s getting up, telling you that he would drive you back to the hotel. “Do you have any plans? Barcelona is a beautiful city. You should go around.” He says and you let out a yawn, telling him you were probably going to sleep in early. 

Sleeping early doesn’t go to plan because the moment you change to your sleeping clothes there is a knock at your hotel room door. You open it slowly, confused about who would be needing you late at night. You’re surprised to see Carlos in front of your door wearing a long sleeve white shirt along with a pair of black slacks. 

“Ay, no me digas,” oh, don’t tell me he says, giving you a quick look over. “Come on now, you’re in Spain. It’s too early for bedtime.” Carlos says, shaking his head. “A few of us are going to go to a party. You should come.” Carlos offers, leaning this time onto the doorframe. 

You furrow your brows a bit. “A few?” You ask curiously having already assumed he was going to party with Lando or something, Carlos nods, looking up as he tries to think. 

“Of course Lando, but he’s dragging some of the other rookies- George and Albon. Max and Charles also said they wanted to join. I think they'll bring a few friends as well. There’s some girls in the group.” Carlos says reassuringly and you can’t help but laugh a bit, shaking your head. 

“Max is coming? Haven’t seen him in a while.” You say, remembering that the last time you both had crossed paths was when they had both been announced for Toro Rosso. 

“He doesn’t know you’re here. So it could be funny.” Carlos chuckles and you smile small. It’s still clear that you’re not sure yet if you want to go or not but Carlos is coming close to give you a poke. You see it coming but it still surprises you and you let out a yelp. He clearly still remembered where you were most ticklish. The moment he tries again you swat his hand away, hard,

“Don’t poke at me.” You laugh, shaking your head as a blush appears over your cheeks. Carlos raises his hands up innocently and shakes his head, 

“Come on,” He says again before raising his brow at you. “What’s the matter? Scared that your boyfriend will get upset?” He asks playfully just to get a reaction from you and you look at him before scoffing. 

It works though, because before you know it you’re shooing him away before you’re digging through your luggage to look for something that was decent enough to take to a party. 

“I’ll wait for you in the lobby,” Carlos laughs right before he closes the door and you can’t help but mentally flip him off despite the smile on your face. You make it almost twenty minutes later, having changed into a short black dress and heels along with quickly putting some makeup on. To your surprise you felt a bit excited at the thought of going out for a night since you hadn’t had time to do it. You didn’t really feel safe going around London by yourself and you weren’t really comfortable with asking either Lando or Carlos to accompany you out just yet. 

“Finally,” You hear Lando say once he spots you from the couches in the lobby. Carlos’ back is facing you but he gets up at Lando’s prompt, grabbing his keys from the coffee table before turning to you. His eyes scan over you quickly and you see him swallow a bit. 

“Sorry Lando, I was literally about to go to bed.” You say a bit embarrassed that both of them had been waiting for you, Lando almost looks offended that you’re apologising but you’re soon shifting your eyes to Carlos. 

“Let’s go?” You ask, smiling when he gives you a nod. 

When you reach the club it is clear that it is packed, and you wonder for a second whether you would be able to make it in before Carlos is smiling at the security guy who instantly lets you to the VIP line and you realise that you had forgotten what it was like to party with him. 

The music is loud and the floor is buzzing underneath your heels. One of the servers was guiding you three to the seated area where Lando had told you the rest of the group was. You’re a bit nervous to meet most of them since you only knew Max in the group but you relax a little bit when they all greet you with wide smiles and open arms. 

“Y/n!” Max says with a wide smile before he’s reaching to hug you. You smile and reach over to give him a hug just as Lando and Carlos are greeting the rest. “Didn’t know you and Carlos got back together,” He says and you let out a laugh, shaking your head. 

He looks confused for a second as he pulls away from the hug, “Then why are you here?” he asks before shaking his head. “Not in that way.”

“No, no, you’re fine.” You laugh and you’re about to answer when Lando is swinging his arm around your shoulders. 

“She’s the engineering intern McLaren has.” Lando says with a wiggle of his brows that makes you snort. Max looks impressed, looking over at you. 

“Ah seriously? And it was a coincidence that Carlos is there?” He asks and you nod. 

“Yeah,” You laugh a bit sheepishly. “But we’re good. So he invited me to join.” You say with a smile and Max nods.

“No- no. That’s cool actually.” He says just as Carlos is pulling you to introduce yourself to the rest of the group. You meet the rest of the drivers and a few others of the guys’ friends. 

You notice a girl in the corner of your eyes that is eyeing up Carlos and moving closer to speak to him and you realise Lando notices it too. You wiggle your brows at Lando before you’re both laughing and you make sure to give Carlos some space.

It wasn’t too hard to give Carlos some space because before you know it you’re being dragged to the dance floor with the group whilst Carlos stays behind with who you learn is Max’s friend. Apparently the dance floor did not only mean dancing, it also meant a lot of drinking. Every time you finished your drink one of the other boys would be handing you another. 

“You guys need to chill,” You laugh after your fourth drink of the hour. You feel a small buzz in your body and your body feels a bit lighter, the tiredness that had settled earlier completely gone. All the nerves you had at the thought of meeting everyone had subsided as well. 

At some point Max pulls you to the side and you’re both dancing together, he’s getting you to swirl and you laugh, almost stumbling into him. “Okay, okay, we’re not doing that.” You say, steadying yourself on his shoulders. It’s only then when you remind yourself of Carlos and you can’t help but look around the club, searching for him. 

You find him sitting down still at the table but this time by himself, you smile at Max quickly and excuse yourself before you’re stumbling to Carlos. “Boo, not you being the debbie downer. What are you doing sitting here by yourself?” You ask, not even realising how much you were swaying until you’ve almost tipped over. 

“Whoops,” you say, letting out a breathless laugh as Carlos gets up. He’s grinning and clearly holding back a laugh, amused by your current state.

“How much did you drink?” Carlos asked amused but you stop him by pressing your finger against his lips. 

“I asked first.” You say, looking him in the eyes and pulling your hand away. Carlos bites his lips, shaking his head before slowly letting go of your waist. 

“She wanted to dance but you know I don’t dance.” Carlos chuckles and you look at him in disbelief. 

“You said no? Whenever a girl asks you to dance you dance Carlos.” You scold, grabbing his hands. Carlos is already slowly leaning back, fighting against your tugging.

“Y/n, I’m not dancing.” He laughs but you give him a pout that has him doubting himself. 

“Please,” You beg this time, giving him the puppy dog eyes that he used to never be able to say no to. You’re leaning close enough to press your chin against his chest, fluttering your eyes as you look up at him. Carlos looks at you, taking a sharp but shaky breath. 

“Fuck, okay okay.” He says and you can see the blush forming on his cheeks. 

“Perfect.” You smile before you’re dragging him to the dance floor. 

You make sure to keep a bit of distance between you both but you hold his hands still, making sure he is moving with you. You’re smiling wide at the sight of him attempting to dance, and he’s looking around awkwardly to the rest of the drivers. 

“Carlos, relax.” You say, coming closer to squeeze his arms. He rolls his eyes but murmurs how the rest were much more drunk than him. “Let’s do shots then.” You say softly, soon taking his hand to go to the bar.  

You both take three shots before you’re heading back to the dancefloor and three songs later you feel the alcohol definitely kick in. From the looks of it Carlos feels it too as his hips slowly begin to move along with the rhythm. 

“Look at you,” you almost slur out, laughing. You’re both hand in hand facing each other, moving your hips in sync to the music. “You’re amazing.” You laugh, smiling at him. 

You both are slowly moving closer as the room gets fuller and you don’t think much of it until you see the girl Carlos was talking to earlier looking over and oh. She was definitely still interested in him. You squeeze Carlos’ hands before slowly pulling away. “Go, go.” You say, wigglin your brows and Carlos’ eyes slightly unfocus a bit when he properly looks at you. 

“It’s fine, I’m having fun here.” He smiles and you give him a smile before shaking your head, nodding over to the girl. Carlos glances over at her and smiles, eyes quickly looking over her. “You’re good if I go?” Carlos asks and you nod. 

“I can survive Carlos.” You laugh, soon shooing him away. 

It’s almost an hour later when you start feeling really tired. You try your best to fight it but your legs are becoming heavier and the thought of sleeping in bed becomes really appealing. The alcohol was making you feel fuzzier but at this point you just wanted to lay down. You try going to Carlos to let him know but he’s dancing too closely with a girl and you don’t feel good with interrupting so you go to Max instead since Lando was nowhere to be seen. 

Max tries his best to keep you there but you soon win the argument and give him a hug and ask him to tell Carlos or Lando that you were going home without even thinking whether Max was sober enough to remember any of that information. 

You’re really drunk on the way home and your mind is spinning a bit too much for your liking. You rarely ever drink this much- and you should have thought about the consequences of drinking sooner but you’re stumbling into the hallway of your room’s floor and up to your door. You had never missed a bed this much and you’re trying your best to reach it, jiggling the door handle before you remember that you needed a key.

Digging through your purse is useless because after what felt like thirty minutes (but was probably five) you are pretty sure you didn’t have your key with you. You press your back against the wall, slowly sliding down it as you let out a groan.

You grab your phone, eyes blurring a bit as you scroll through your contacts. You’re calling Bastien, knowing that he was at home. The call rings for a while before it goes into voicemail and you can’t help but frown before calling a few more times. 

You give up after the sixth time, and at that point the floor feels a lot comfier and your eyes are falling shut. You wonder what Bastien was doing since he had told you he was going to stay home that evening but you can't even entertain that thought for too long as you're dozing off. In less than a minute your phone is vibrating and you jump a bit before picking it up. 

“Where are you?” It’s not Bastien, it’s Carlos and you feel yourself deflate a bit. You can barely hear him above the loud music from his end but you can hear he’s worried, Max clearly not having relayed the message. Damn, you think to yourself I knew I should’ve asked Charles. 

“I’m back at the hotel.” You murmur, holding your head in your hand as you try not to doze off again. “I’m in the hallway, I lost my room key.” You say.

“What? Have you tried getting a new one?” Carlos asks and you open your eyes at his question. 

“No, I’m too drunk to get up.” You say a bit embarrassed. You hear Carlos snort before there’s a bit of shuffling.

No Lando, I don’t know how she got there. I’ll go and make sure she goes to bed. No no it’s fine. You hear Carlos say faintly in the background and you’re frowning a bit.

“Carlos? Don’t leave the party.” You say, “I’m fine.” You insist, not wanting him to go home early because of you. 

“Don’t be silly, I’m done with partying for the night.” Carlos chuckles and you hear the music getting further and further away and you let out a soft sigh.  

“Carlos, it’s okay.” You murmur. 

“Y/n, it’s okay.” Carlos echoes you and you can’t help but smile small. 

Carlos keeps the call on throughout the ride. He apparently decides to take a taxi to the hotel, saying he would pick up the car the next day, but he entertains himself by rambling on and on to you about something that doesn’t make quite much sense and you realise he is probably almost as drunk as you. 

He’s announcing that he’s in the hotel and heading to the elevator when the line cuts off. You frown a bit but soon hear the bell from the elevator and see Carlos walking over to you. 

“Come on,” he says and he’s wobbling too and you can’t help but laugh at the state that you’re both in. 

“What’s so funny.” He says, trying his best to pull you up but the alcohol is getting the best of him. “God were you always this heavy?” He asks with a laugh and you can’t help but kick his leg. “Ay! That hurt!” 

You soon burst into a fit of giggles, “I’m so drunk Carlos.” You say making Carlos laugh as well. “It’s like we’re fifteen again.” You say with a wide smile, remembering the first time you both had gotten drunk.

This time Carlos successfully pulls you up but gravity gets the better of him and he stumbles forward. He knocks into your chest and your back hits the door. 

“Mierda,” Shit he murmurs, quickly catching himself by pressing his hands against the wall. He blinks a bit, looking at you, his arms are next to your sides and you’re not sure if it's the alcohol but he’s looking at you with wide blown pupils. 

“Are you good?” You ask, suddenly aware of how close he was and your eyes linger a bit too long on his lips for your own liking. As soon as Carlos nods you slowly press your hand on his torso to gently get him to step back. 

Carlos does so, running a hand through his hair. “God, I am so gone right now.” He laughs before he’s looking at you. 

“Should we go to the reception and try to get your room key?” Carlos asks and you’re quietly nodding, a bit flushed still from how close you guys had been pressed together. 

“I’m not sure if I can talk to someone right now though.” You say a bit embarrassed but your head was still pretty much spinning and even Carlos looked a bit like a blur. 

“Or you could sleep over in my room?” Carlos offers. You look at him for a second before your mind wanders to Bastien. 

“I don’t know,” You murmur, but your mind is still spinning and your thoughts are all melting together. You were struggling to even get through a coherent conversation with Carlos and you can’t even imagine you and Carlos getting through a sober conversation with the receptionist. 

“I have a couch in my room, I can take it and you can take the bed.” The words linger in the air for a moment as you process them and after a bit you give him a small nod. 

“Yeah, if that’s okay with you.” You say and Carlos doesn’t even answer, simply beginning to walk to the elevator since his room was one floor above yours. 

“God, I’m gonna hate myself tomorrow.” You say, the elevator’s light is making your head spin even more and soon you’re holding Carlos’ arm as you both walk down the hallway.

It’s a mess to get to Carlos’ room because the walk feels like forever and you’re pretty sure Carlos bumps into the walls at least once. By the time you make it Carlos is grabbing his card and stumbling with it as well, missing the slot a few times until the light’s door flashes green and the door automatically unlocks itself. 

You’re quick to aim for the bed once the door opens and you don’t even hesitate before you’re falling onto it face first, make up be damned. It might be the alcohol but Carlos’ bed feels like the best bed you’ve ever laid on. 

Carlos is by the couch already, hands stumbling on his belt as he undoes it. You can hear him swearing to himself before there is more fumbling. “Ow,” You hear from afar and you sit up to find Carlos on the floor with his pants around his ankles. 

You can’t help but laugh at the sight, “It’s not funny,” He says although he’s clearly trying to keep it together as well. Soon he’s flinging his jeans onto the chair along with his shirt. “Do you want anything to sleep with?” He asks, running his fingers through his hair. 

“Mhm, a shirt if you don’t mind.” You say and he’s stumbling to his luggage, flinging it open. 

“Here,” He says before throwing it to you. You manage to catch it and you murmur a thanks before you’re taking off your dress, too drunk to think it through. 

“What?” You ask once you’ve slipped on the shirt, finding Carlos’ eyes locked on you. You’re letting out a soft sigh pulling the covers over yourself and Carlos reacts late, shaking his head. 

“Nothing, should I turn off the lights?” He asks and you answer him with a tired mhm. Your eyes are already shut but you hear a soft click off the lights and you can feel the room get darker. 

There’s almost a minute of silence and you’re about to fall asleep when you hear Carlos speak up. 

“Y/n?” His voice is a bit quiet, as if trying to check if you are awake or not still. 

“Yes Carlos?” You murmur. There’s a small moment of silence before Carlos replies. 

“No, nevermind,” He says and you can’t even try opening your eyes with how tired you were. 

“Are you sure?” You mumble this time, mind already growing fuzzy. You’re trying your best to stay awake but every thought you tried having was melting away. 

Carlos takes a moment to answer, but by the time he’s speaking you’re already asleep, letting out a deep breath of exhaustion. 

fin.

read chapter seven here

aaaaaah, okay, that's it for now! how do you feel about the chapter? a lot of developments going on and a lot more carlos x reader (which im sooo happy to start writing now). the next chapter will be of the rest of the week and then I think we'll jump to start of the season!! please let me know what you think i'm always so happy to hear everyone's thoughts on it <3<3<3 thank you once again for reading!!

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Letters Never Sent

Ch. 5 of “My Sunshine” [TreechxReader)

Warnings: swearing

Dear (Y/N),

Even though I can't send letters to you, I've written you so many. It's your 18th birthday. Happy Birthday, Sunshine... 7 years. It's gone by painfully slow. I see traces of you in the woods when I go out. It's like we're still out there. Us as kids, I mean. Which makes sense because your 'father' killed any sense of me being a kid when he took you away from me. Even after seven years, it replays in my head. Your screams and sobs, your hand being pulled from mine. I hate it when you cry. I told you if anyone ever made you cry, I'd hurt them back, the same way they hurt you. I vowed to you I would. And I always keep my word. Hunger Games are coming up. It's my last year in the reaping. I wonder if you've forgotten about me? Has some Capitol prick taken my place? Do you make them sweets? Do they walk you home in the dark and daylight? Do they care? Never mind.... I don't think I want to know

Yours,

Treech

Signed, and put into the drawer he kept everything he wrote for you.

—

Dear Lumberjack,

7 years. 7 miserable years without you. I'm 18 today. But it means nothing now. I used to think that 18 was so far away. I know I can't send these, but when I go back home, I want to give these to you. And I will. But I can't help but wonder if you have found a new best friend. A new person to walk home, holding their hand? Have you brought them to our spot and hugged them like they are going to disappear ñ? Does your Ma love them like she loved me? Do you miss me? I miss you. Every day. I write you letters often. I'm going to beg father to let me send this. Maybe he'll feel bad. The games are coming up. You've already turned 18. Last year in the reaping. I'm a mentor this year. I don't want to be. Father keeps mentioning something that makes me want to throw up. He says, "this year as a mentor, maybe you will finally kill off any ties and feelings you have towards district seven." I have a feeling I know what this means. If I manage to get this to you, please please be careful. I miss you. It never goes away. You always take up space in my mind.

Missing you more than you could ever know,

Your Sunshine ☼

Your father scoffed at the mere request of you sending it. You sighed, putting the sealed envelope in the bottom drawer of your desk, filled with letters just like it.

—

The notebook he kept hidden was full of poetry and thoughts. Who knew he of all people would keep such a thing?

The sun doesn't go away. It simply hides behind the clouds, waiting to shine down on us to make the plants grow their roots and warm us all. Waiting to bring light down to the darkness. That's why I call you Sunshine. Your smile beamed down, warming up and chasing away any darkness that surrounds me. You brought me comfort, and you, being the sun, made things root into me. Feelings that coil tightly around my heart like a vine. The feelings don't go away. With every passing year it gets worse.

It feels like you’ve become this… ghost in the woods. Haunting me. I see these image of you with other guys and I hate it. I’m jealous. I saw you on the TV one of the few times we had it. It was down at the bar(no, don’t worry sunshine, I don’t drink. It’s just the only place in town with ice and air conditioning we common folk can get into) You look… gorgeous… the same… but different. You were smiling, but it wasn’t the same smile that warms me and drives the darkness away. It was empty. The sun shines in the Capitol, but the smog makes it dull and bleak. Is that what the Capitol has done to you, sunshine? On the TV there was a boy next to you. He looked… nice. The way he he smiled at you. He was holding your hand. He held your hand and hugged you. I wonder if he walked you home after. I can’t lie, I wished it would stop. I wished that it was me. God, I stayed waiting to see when he’d get his fucking hands off. I’m jealous, I admit. But a Capitol boy can’t make you smile, this I know. And I will never be jealous about who you send out that smile to. Because I am the one who’s seen the real one.

The notebook was hidden. Any thoughts he had he wrote and hid away. One day he’d give it to you.

—-

Dearest forest boy,

They call me the Capitol Sweetheart now. People accept me more than Sejanus and I wonder why. Is it because he’s outspoken about his thoughts while I only write them and speak them to him quite in the library? I don’t want to be the Capitol sweetheart. I want to be… your sweetheart. Back in seven. Back home. I figured now would be as good a time as any to write this feeling down. I love you. Not in the same way I said when we were young. Maybe it’s stupid. You could be a whole new person now, and I’m only in love with the idea of who I think you’ve become, or that you’ve stayed the same. I write this now because I shouldn’t feel this way. It’s not fair to you. But I do.

Love,

Your dearest Sunshine

Softly placing the sealed envelope in the drawer you sighed. Why me?

——

My dearest trouble maker,

I spend most of my days out in the forest. Working. At first I went with Pa, but eventually got old enough to go out on my own. I still go with him occasionally. He ain’t getting any younger but he’s so damn hard headed a rock would turn to rubble if it hit him. But I go off myself most times. Gives me a chance to get away from the pitying stares I get. The whispers. You’d think that after seven years I’d stop being the talk of the town, but unfortunately not much happens in seven, so I can’t ever escape it. I go out and write you letters or my thoughts, sometimes I write you poetry like a fool. Then it’s my secret. And no one will know. I hate not being able to send you anything. Maybe when you come back… no, when you come back, I will give you all of these.

Sincerely yours,

Your lumberjack

[peninkwrites]

Hear no evil. See no evil. Speak no evil. Ch 5 of ?

Tommy cannot communicate and hurt someone, so he has to choose. Tubbo doesn't know a lot of things with mixed results. Ranboo has trouble reading.

[CW: c!Dream, impending blindness, maybe injuries? ask to tag if there's anything else!]

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 4

Ch 6

~

Executing Technoblade was a bust, as Tubbo surely knew it would be.  Quackity had been so insistent and Tubbo won’t cast all the blame on him, Tubbo had agreed, he’d gone along with it, and he’d been afraid of Technoblade too.  Technoblade disappeared, and Quackity seemed to run off after him, but Tubbo knows that’s a lost cause.

He’s tired of this.  He’s tired of the politics and the isolation and the fact that most of the time he feels utterly useless.  He’s also tired of being scared to see his best friend.  Tommy might hate him, he has every right to, but Tubbo is going out there and try.  He didn’t get to celebrate his birthday with his best friend, but surely it isn’t too late.  Maybe he’ll apologize for all this too, explain that he’s been trying to find a way to get Tommy home, even if it’s just something temporary like a visitor’s pass or something.

Tubbo is excited to have someone who can sign around him.  Unless Tommy has forgotten.  No, that’s stupid.  Tommy wouldn’t have forgotten everything in the last month or so.  Tubbo knows where Tommy’s little camp is, he’s known even if he hasn’t dared go there.

Tubbo can’t help but start to get excited once he reaches the portal.  It’s been so hard on his own, Ranboo helps, but Ranboo isn’t Tommy.

The world bends around him, and then the hot air of the Nether is replaced by a cold, salty breeze coming off the sea.  He steps onto the path and freezes, staring at a crater spread out before him.

“W-What– What happened?!” Tubbo stammers to the empty quiet.  “It’s– It’s all blown up, why is it– Why is it blown up?”  Tubbo walks closer, staring into the crater like some answer will make itself known.

That is, until his eyes are drawn to the pillar cutting up into the sky, a pillar with no way down.  Tubbo is dizzied by thoughts of Wilbur’s end.  “No– No.  Surely– Surely not.  Surely not–”

Tubbo looks around frantically for any sign, for anything.  “Tommy!” He screams at the wilderness.  “Tommy!  Where are you?!”  Tubbo gasps for breath.  What if he’s hurt?  What if he’s calling for you to help him but you can’t hear him?

Tubbo turns back to the tower, and feels as if a knife is twisting in his chest.  He knows Tommy isn’t calling for him.

~

New L’Manberg is quiet, and Ranboo has no idea what to do with himself.  Tubbo came back from Logstedshire and told the cabinet what he had found.  Not much else has happened since.  Tubbo seems far away, he stares off into space, he doesn’t talk much, and when Ranboo tries to get him to engage, it’s always halfhearted and never all the way there.

Ranboo has done his best not to think about Tommy, about Tommy killing himself all alone.  Before, Ranboo had tried writing letters, but Tommy stopped replying.  He’d also stopped going out there ages ago, largely because Tommy had told him to.

Ranboo has an awful, nagging feeling in the back of his mind.  He gets out his memory book.  He hasn’t written anything on Tommy’s death, because he doesn’t want to remember.  Maybe that’s not fair, but it’s hard enough to have grief hanging over the crater like a funeral shroud without forcing himself to remember it too.  He doesn’t think he’ll forget this, not Tommy dying, not who Tommy was to him.  Some things are important enough.  He has forgotten something, though, something important, he thinks.  He thinks it’s in here too.  He flips through the pages quickly, until he finds it.

Ghostbur is nice 

techno is interesting but in an okay way 

Tommy says that he never wants me to show my face around there ever again but do it anyway because he is your friend

Technos house is located in the certain snow biome to the left of the village as you approach it :)

Right.

Tommy says that he never wants me to show my face around there ever again but do it anyway because he is your friend

“S-Shoot–” Ranboo winces as his eyes begin to blur, the page no longer visible and it’s not like he could focus anyway around the fierce burn now welling in his eyes as tears start to form.  “N-No– Stop.  Stop stop stop– come on, j-just keep it together–”  He takes a shaky breath, trying to blink away tears, but that merely makes the burning spread.

Ranboo can’t see.  It hurts, and he can’t see a thing right now.  He knows it’s just from the tears, and for the most part, once he stops crying, it will clear.

You won’t cry when your friend dies.  You won’t cry when you realize you abandoned him out there.  Do you even feel at all?

“I do, I do, I do it just– It just hurts–” Ranboo doesn’t know why he’s pleading with the cruel voice in the back of his head, but he doesn’t know what else to do.  He tries to brush the tears from his cheeks and his fingertips burn instead.  His hands shake as he takes a corner of his white button down and dabs away the water.

Grief is supposed to hurt.

“Not like this!” Ranboo snaps.  He takes a deep breath, he forces his eyes to stay open, praying the tears will clear.  It’s all he can do.  He cannot think about his feelings or pain or what it will mean if his eyes don’t clear, so he doesn’t move.  He breathes, and he stares at the ceiling of his little house, and he waits for the lanterns above to come into a bit more focus.

Ranboo could’ve wept with relief––but he won’t–– when the tears finally clear a bit.  The light of the lanterns are still broad streaks across his vision, but he’s used to that.  He takes a few more deep breaths.  He looks down at his memory book.  He can keep it together now.

Ranboo feels icy cold panic deepen in his veins.  He can’t read the page.

“No…” he murmurs.  “No, no no no that’s not– that can’t–” Ranboo holds the book up closer, hands shaking as he does so, and the letters make themselves known.

Ghostbur is nice

Technoblade is interesting but in an okay way

“Oh my god, oh– thank god, it’s– it’s okay.  It’s okay,” Ranboo buries his face in his hands, shoulders sagging as he lets the book fall off his lap.  “You could read it… you could read it,” he says it a few more times, just to make himself feel it.  “It’s… it’s harder, but… you could read it.”

Tubbo, curse his good eye sight, notices right away when they next see each other.  “Oh my god, Ranboo, what– Your face, it’s–”

“W-What?” Ranboo almost recoils, nervous at the thought of Tubbo currently staring at his eyes.

“The… the scars are like, bright red, bossman,” Tubbo guesses he asked for an explanation.  “Your eyes are red too like… like you’ve been crying,” his shock fades as he understands.  “Oh.”

Ranboo blinks quickly, flicking to the back of the book where he keeps his messages to Tubbo.

I’m okay.  Just hit me all at once, you know?  Tommy.

Tubbo reads it and he looks so much older than he should.  Maybe his face is still that of a boy, but from the way he carries himself, the weight there, Ranboo thinks he looks older. “Right… Tommy…”

How are you doing?

“Um, I’m alright,” Tubbo says, voice pushed into that higher, mild-mannered affect that he forced when he was upset and trying not to be.

If you need to talk about it, you can come to me.

“Thank you, Rambo,” Tubbo turns more genuine, nonetheless weighted.  “Are you… are you sure you’re alright?  Do you… do you need a health pot for that or something?” Tubbo asks.

No it’s ok!

“Okay.  Are you…” Tubbo sighs.  “Are you feeling up to taking minutes for me?  I wanted to…” Tubbo stops, a tremor in his voice.  “I wanted to have a meeting.  To… to talk about the funeral.”

Ranboo nods quickly, stopping to take his own shaking breath, as he’s once more struck by that awful fear.  It clearly shows on his face.

“Ranboo?” Tubbo’s puzzled worry is immediately pressing for answers.  “Something else going on?”

Ranboo starts to shake his head.

“Come on, don’t fuck about, just tell me.”

Ranboo hesitates.  He needs to tell someone.  Just in case it gets so bad he really needs help.  Tubbo steps up beside him, looking over his arm as he writes.

I can’t read as well.  My vision got worse from me crying.  And I know eventually it’s going to get even worse and I don’t what I’m going to do.  I write down things to remember them and if I don’t have that

I don’t know.

“Shit,” Tubbo sighs heavily.  “What if…” Tubbo pauses, lost in thought.  “What if you… have you tried recording stuff, bossman?”

Ranboo shakes his head.

“Like, tape recorder type deal or something.  You could even start reading aloud your books and stuff, so you’ll have them in case… you know, the worst happens,” Tubbo offers.

“Oh,” Ranboo says softly.  “I…” He comes back to himself, and grabs the book.

I hadn’t thought of that.

“Yeah!” Tubbo sounds proud.  “I could totally get you a tape recorder.  And like, do you want one of those stick things?”

Stick things?

“Like… the red tipped… tapping where you… where you walk type deal?” Tubbo fumbles to explain.

Ranboo laughs.  I don’t think I’m there just yet.  But thank you.

“Alright, no worries, bossman.  Do you still want to try glasses?”

I think I might be beyond glasses

“Well, you could just try it, yeah?”

Ranboo concedes to that.

Tommy is dead.  Ranboo picks out glasses.

The glasses actually help a bit.  Not with the fog, but with some of the blurriness they help, and Tommy is dead.

They get a tape recorder, they wear Christmas sweaters, they spend time together.  Tommy is still dead.

Until he isn’t.

Instead, he stands beside Technoblade, with a wailing Connor in tow.

“Tommy?” Tubbo croaks out.  “You’re– You’re alive?”

Tubbo takes a step forward.  Tommy takes a step back.

“Tommy, you’re– why are you with..?” Tubbo trails off, evidently staring at Technoblade.

Tommy doesn’t answer.  Ranboo sees him reach out and tug on Technoblade’s sleeve.  Technoblade takes the hint and gets things moving, he takes his weapons off Ranboo in exchange for Connor, and then they start to leave.

“Tommy!  Wait!  Wait, are you– are you alright?!  Can you at least tell me if you’re okay?!” Tubbo calls after him and Ranboo isn’t sure why, but he reaches out and puts a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder to stop him from running after them.  Ranboo thinks he sees Tommy look back over his shoulder, but he’s at an absolute loss to guess what his expression is.  Whatever it is, it stops Tubbo from trying to pull away from him.

~

Techno and Tommy head back toward the Nether portal at a quick pace, Techno half expecting all the L’Manbergians to come at him with axes again, but no one follows.

Tommy whines, distressed and panicked, pacing from foot to foot like he has half a mind to turn back.

“The guy exiled you, Tommy.  Maybe don’t go runnin’ back to him the second he looks a little sad, alright?” Techno says gruffly.

Tommy nods, evidently more determined, picking up his pace to keep up with Techno’s large stride.  Then he stops, eyes wide, the color drained from his cheeks, and Techno turns back to the portal.

“Oh, uh.  Hey, Dream.  How’s it going?” Techno says casually.  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tommy step behind him.  Tommy doesn’t have his shield because it makes it so hard to sign, cowering behind a towering pig does the job just as well.  Techno also hears glass break and glances back to see Tommy splashing regen potions on them both, shoving a few gapples his way as well, but his eyes stay locked on Dream.

“If I remember correctly, Tommy, you aren’t supposed to be here,” Dream says coolly.

Tommy just stares, wired like a spring, waiting for Dream to step toward him.  Technoblade leans over.  “Tommy, don’t be scared,” he says in a false whisper.  “He doesn’t have no house.”

Tommy does that quiet closed-mouthed laugh where he exhales a little shakily, which has replaced his old cackle.  He keeps staring at Dream.  Dream is surely staring back from behind that mask, evidently waiting for something.  “Tommy, I got one of your discs back.”

Tommy inhales sharply, he takes one step forward, hands balled into fists at his sides, before stepping back in the relative safety of Technoblade’s shadow.

Dream laughs.  “What, you’re not gonna argue with me?  Demand it back, or whatever?” Dream waits for a reply.

Interesting.  From the way Tommy was such a wreck, Techno had assumed Dream had forced Tommy not to talk, from that ominous word HURTS to the dark bruise wrapping around Tommy’s wrist to the way Tommy flinches whenever Techno moves too fast all on top of Tommy remaining adamantly silent, and yet here Dream is, expecting answers.  The pause extends.

“Uhhh.  So, are we just gonna wait around for somethin’ to happen?  Or d’you got some more monologuing to do, Dream?” Techno finally cuts in.

Dream takes half a step forward, and from what Techno can tell around a mask, Dream seems excited.  “Wait, you’re… you’re not talking.”  He definitely sounds excited.  “You’re… really?” Sharp delight.  “I didn’t think– I didn’t think it would stick,” Dream laughs.  “Oh, that’s great.”   Dream waits once more, giving Tommy the chance to disagree, and of course, he doesn’t.  “Techno.”

“Uh, yeah, Dream?” Techno is startled to be dragged into whatever staredown the two of them have going on.

“What d’you think of the new Tommy?”

“The new Tommy?” Techno scoffs.  “I dunno what you mean, Dream, he’s probably even dirtier and scruffier than he was in Pogtopia.  That’s not exactly new.”

“No,” Dream says sharply, before continuing with an eerie, softer sort of pride.  “He’s quiet now, isn’t he?”

Something more than a little sinister in the way he said that.

“Oh, is he?” Techno continues sarcastically.  “I didn’t notice.  I thought maybe I was goin’ deaf like the President back there.”

“No, but, seriously,” Dream seems annoyed that Technoblade hasn’t responded with, what, praise?  “He doesn’t talk, like, at all?” He looks to Techno for confirmation.

Techno continues on with determined dry wit.  “Oh, I just thought I’d gotten really good at tuning him out or something.”

“Techno, I did that,” Dream finally gets to the point, irritated as well as smug.  “I finally got him to shut up!”

Tommy shifts from foot to foot restlessly, sword in hand, but he still makes no move against Dream.  Technoblade hasn’t either, but he keeps his crossbow leveled with the man’s chest.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s cool, Dream.  Real tough-guy move there, huh?  Scaring a teenager?” Techno says dryly.

Dream ignores Technoblade now, approaching Tommy.  “Look, Tommy.  You know you’re not supposed to be here, you… you’ve caused problems, just like you always do.  And now, you are going to come with me, or I’m going to burn your disc.”

Another sharp inhale from Tommy, still holding his sword in shaking hands, and Techno can see the desperate cogs turning as this kid tries to figure out how he has any hope of getting out of this one.  

“Well, that’s gonna be a bit of a problem, Dream.”  Technoblade steps forward, putting himself between Dream and Tommy.  “‘Cause this guy’s with me.”

Dream tilts his head, clearly calculating something.  “Hm.  Are you sure, Techno?”

“I am sure,” Techno replies coolly.  He glances back at Tommy behind him, amused to see the kid is now grinning like he won the lottery.  “This is a… this is a business partner,” is how he describes the terrified teenager that had been clinging to him for the past days.  “And we’re workin’ for our own mutual benefit right now.”  He turns back to Dream.  “So I can’t really have you takin’ him away before I complete my objectives.  Before I get my revenge.”

~

Tommy is on the fuckin’ moon right now he’s so smug.  Ha!  Sure, he can’t say a single fucking word, and Tubbo screwed him over, but he’s got the Blade stepping up to fight for him!

“Unless, of course.  You wanna call in that favor.”

Tommy’s heart drops to his stomach.  He wants to protest, he wants to ask Techno what the fuck he’s talking about, but with Dream there, words have never felt further away.  He paces anxiously, walking around Techno, getting back in his line of sight, hoping that would count as pleading enough for answers.

“Hm,” Dream mulls this over, but Tommy’s focus remains on Technoblade.

Again, he tugs on Technoblade’s sleeve, as has been his go-to means of getting Techno’s attention, but Techno doesn’t spare him a glance, merely shakes him off, even as he still holds the crossbow up to Dream’s chest, and that hurts.  “Not now, Tommy.  The adults are talking,” Techno says coolly.  That hurts too.  Tommy can’t fucking argue.  He wants to argue.  There’s a weight pressing down on his chest that says he can’t.

Tommy doesn’t fucking understand, Technoblade was supposed to be on his side, how can he, how could he–

“No, I have something else in mind for that,” Dream continues, equally content to ignore Tommy like he’s nothing more than a pesky bug.  “I’ll… I’ll keep it.  If you’re sure.”  Dream backs away.  “I guess you live another day, Tommy.”

A horrifying statement, but more importantly, Dream is walking away.  If Tommy is going to say something, some biting insult, a daring jab, it would be now.  Tommy steps forward, and Dream stares at him, clearly unimpressed.  Tommy feels that weight on his chest again, bearing down on him, his body desperately struggling to prevent HURT, and Tommy is helpless, choking on his own words.

He refuses to not try.  Tommy flicks Dream off; it’s all he can manage.  Dream scoffs and starts to walk away, so in one last shred of courage, he spits at Dream, not quite hitting him, but enough to make him pause and recoil from it crossing his path.

Tommy is almost breathless with delight.  He can’t speak, but he can annoy Dream.

“Yeah!  Get out of here, you don’t have no house!” Techno joins in jeeringly.

“I have a house–” Dream starts to say irritably.

Tommy feels that giddy rage rising up once more uncontrollable, and he swings, his sword bouncing off of Dream’s netherite armor, hardly enough to even bruise, but Tommy still basks in it.  He hit Dream.

“Whoa, Tommy,” Techno says, appraising and maybe a tad concerned, but Dream doesn’t retaliate, he keeps walking away.

So Tommy returns to the nether portal, trembling not just from the adrenaline, but with feverish joy too. 

“I–” Tommy signs, before flicking off the portal behind them, the closest approximation he can get to I told him to go fuck himself!

“Yeah!  Yeah, you told him, Tommy,” Technoblade crows.

“Time ago I never do that!” Tommy signs with jittery, excitable fingers, not yet fluent enough to properly articulate a week ago I never could’ve done that! but he gets the message across.  “Technoblade,” he signs an approximation of his name, the same sign for sword, or Blade, rather.  “Thank you.”

“No problem, Tommy.”

~

Tommy finds out about a festival, but this time he cannot take the lead, he cannot justify letting his anger run loose and hurt Fundy without a cause, because he cannot run an interrogation when he can’t talk, but Technoblade does enough.

Ranboo discovers something too.

“Tommy?  Why… why aren’t you saying anything?  Why didn’t you say anything the other day?  Are you… I know this might not be the time, but are you… refusing to talk to me?” Ranboo asks.

He can recognize that Tommy is shaking his head.  Then he glances down and sees Tommy’s hands are moving.

“Oh, Tommy, I can’t… I can’t see signs very well,” he says softly.

Tommy wavers, seeming unsure, before he startles Ranboo by grabbing his hand.  Ranboo doesn’t pull away, though, and after a moment, he realizes Tommy is tracing letters onto his palm.

“Can you start over?”

C

A

N

T

“Can’t?”

A nod.

T

A

L

K

“You… you can’t talk?”

Tommy nods.

“Why?  Did you… did you lose your voice?”

Tommy hesitates, then slowly, he nods.

“Oh.  I guess… I guess I’m sorry to hear that,” Ranboo doesn’t know what to do with this information.  “And… do you think you’ll… get it back?”

Tommy shakes his head again.

“It’s… it’s not coming back.”

Another head shake.

“Oh,” Ranboo processes this.

“Tommy!  Tommy, I got somethin’ for ya.  Fundy has something to say,” Technoblade calls Tommy back over, and Tommy leaves Ranboo before he can ask any more questions.

Ranboo doesn’t tell Tubbo that he spoke with Tommy.  He doesn’t know how to.  Maybe he’ll regret that later.  For now, he’ll record this, remind himself that Tommy has changed.  In more ways than one.

~

While Tommy is invisible, he cannot communicate with Technoblade.  So when he follows the crowd out to the blown up community house, he has no idea if Techno will follow him.  All he knows is that Dream is blaming him, and Tommy has no way of defending himself.  He can’t sign, instead, he can only watch on in horror as Dream tries to tear him away from his loved ones one more time.

Dream is arguing with Tubbo, projecting his words to the entire server, which to be fair, the majority of them have circled around the community house to see what’s happened.

<Dream> how can I enforce his exile if I don’t have the disc?

“You– You have one of them, do you not?” Tubbo stammers.

<Dream> I need both

“You need… both?” Tubbo stares at the ruins of the community house, uncomprehending.  “I actually just can’t believe he would do this.”

Everyone is talking over each other, but Tubbo can easily ignore it, cogs turning as he thinks.

<Dream> if you don’t want to associate with tommy hand over the disc

Tommy has no way of stopping this.  He’s still fucking invisible so he can’t talk to Tubbo.  He scrambles to put on his armor, and before he can stop himself, he steps between Tubbo and Dream.

“What– Who’s this?” Tubbo takes one step back, staring at his best friend and unable to recognize him.

Tommy has no fucking clue what to do now.  The entire server is staring at him, and this is where he’s meant to defend himself, but can’t if he’s fucking invisible.

Technoblade joins him.

“It’s Tommy.  And I’m here, obviously.  Ah, wait, you can’t hear me, uh.  Someone wanna… translate for the President or something?” Technoblade drawls.

“Tommy?” Tubbo stares at his best friend, knowing him not on sight, but maybe only on hope.

Tommy nods.  Tubbo can at least see that with his helmet.

Tommy needs to tell him he didn’t do this, he needs to talk to his best friend.  What he really needs is some fucking milk.

Tubbo doesn’t care, nor does he bother asking someone to explain what the fuck is happening, he just looks at Tommy, wishing he could understand him, in more ways than one.

<Dream> Tubbo give me the disc

Tubbo opens his Enderchest, he doesn’t even know what he’s actually planning on doing at this point, but it doesn’t matter, because Tommy shoves him away.  Tommy literally cannot use words right now, the only thing he can possibly do is physically stop Tubbo from giving up the disc.  Tubbo stumbles but keeps his footing, staring in shock at the figure that must be Tommy.  A tense moment, the two of them staring at each other, and Tubbo unable to read his friend’s face.

He scrambles for his Enderchest.  It opens once more, and as Tommy tries to shove him away again, he’s not sure if Tubbo managed to grab it or not.  Not that it matters, because right now, Tubbo isn’t holding a disc.  He’s holding his axe.

“Tommy, are you really going to– to fight me on this?!  After everything– After you proving time and time again that I– I cannot trust you?!” Tubbo sounds so wounded, and Tommy wants to scream at him, to tear into him with all of his losses, but he cannot speak, nor could Tubbo hear him, and for now, Tommy cannot fucking sign.

That leaves one language left.

When Tommy swings at Tubbo, he tries to scream, voice ragged and hoarse from disuse, it merely causes him pain, just like the jarring feeling shuddering up his arm from his axe colliding with Tubbo’s chestplate.

Tubbo gasps, not really hurt, merely shocked that Tommy would swing a weapon at him.  The shock doesn’t last.  Tubbo takes a shaky breath, tightening his grip on his own axe, he swings back.

Tommy hoists up his shield to block it, it wrenching on his arm and leaving the shield all but useless.  He knows Techno is saying something to him, warning him of how outnumbered they are, but he couldn’t care less.  Tommy shoves Tubbo back with his shield and swings again.

“A-After everything–” Tubbo blocks it with his own shield, both of them forced to take a step back as they recover.  “After everything…” Tubbo tries again.  “You… you still found one more way to try and hurt our nation.  Why the hell would you do this?!” He nods to the ruins and Tommy is furious.

How the fuck is he meant to tell Tubbo he didn’t do this?  How the fuck is he meant to stop him from giving up the disc, save this?   Save hurting his best friend?  So, of course unable to reply, he merely swings again, trying to wrench around his shield, to reach his chestplate, but Tubbo jolts back quickly, dodging him before swinging back, nailing Tommy in the ribs, only enough to bruise through Netherrite but it still knocks the wind out of him all the same.

“You won’t try to talk to me, but you will hit me, is that it?!” Tubbo snaps.

Tommy can only respond by swinging back harder.  He can’t fucking sign if Tubbo can’t see him!  It’s not fucking fair that Tubbo gets to make his case and hit him and Tommy can only hit back, otherwise defenseless.  Rage sharpens like a knife within his chest and Tommy’s arms burn as he does everything he can to break through Tubbo’s shield, bashing against it with his axe, over and over, until Tubbo is sent stumbling back and he hits the water, and Tommy realizes he can see his own arms, still raising the axe, waiting to strike Tubbo down again.

Tubbo claws back onto the platform, drenched but not dissuaded.  He raises his axe, bitterly willing to keep going, until he sees Tommy, and he sees his hands moving.

“I didn’t do this,” he signs rapidly, fingers stumbling and frantic, relieved when Tubbo lowers the axe to watch.  “Please don’t give him the disc.”

“What…” Tubbo stares at his hands, eyebrows furrowed together.  “You didn’t do this.”

Tommy shakes his head furiously.

“Then… why the hell did you attack me?”

“The disc.  The disc!  Couldn’t talk to you let you do that.”

“I… I don’t know how you expect me to trust you, Tommy,” Tubbo seems to be struggling to hold his resolve.

Tommy is so panicked he has half a mind to keep fighting, but he has to choose, either a return to violence, or he can talk to him.  He cannot do both.

Even without violence, the pain bleeds through.

“You hurt me.  You let me go.  You let me go,” Tommy doesn’t know how to sign betray, but he hopes emphasizing those words, you let me go, suffice.  They hurt him enough.

“That’s not true.  That’s not fair, Tommy!  I tried to keep you here!  I tried to bargain and you were the one who ruined– who ruined everything!” Tubbo is still holding his axe.

“You don’t know what he did to me!” Tommy points at Dream vehemently, even as the man had stepped back, along with all the rest, to allow the two of them to tear each other to pieces.  “Out away, where I was, he hurt me.  You don’t know, you don’t know.”

“I thought you died!” Tubbo sounds like he’s pleading, his voice breaks, and he takes one step closer.  Tommy steps back sharply, because Tubbo is still holding his axe.  Tubbo puts it away.  “I thought you were– I thought you were dead.”

“You never came.  You never saw me.  You know nothing.  You hurt me.”  Tommy’s hands are unsteady, he pauses, forcing them to calm, trying to at least.  “You made me die not being there.”

"I– What?"

Tommy tries to work around his limited vocabulary.  "You went away.  Made me start to die.  You left me to die." Tommy finally manages it, signing for the direction left, but he's hoping Tubbo can figure it out.

“I didn’t– I didn’t– When I exiled you–” Tubbo stammers, torn between anger and pain.  “What was I supposed to do, Tommy?!  I was stuck in an impossible position because you decided to disregard our nation, to– to risk everything and for what?!  For the discs?!”

Those watching, save Technoblade, are all plagued by the same thought, only hearing half of the conversation.  Why isn’t Tommy talking?

It’s a strange sort of dread.  Tommy being quiet feels like a warning, a sign that something is seriously wrong with him.  Tommy is never quiet.  Not that Tubbo notices this, his attention remains on Tommy’s hands, and the words spun from them.

Tommy cannot be impulsive with his words.  There is always a delay in a language he hasn’t quite adjusted to.  So he never says it.  He cannot figure out a way to sign “the discs were worth more than you ever were,” or if he can, he doesn’t, because the thought of them alone hit him in the chest like an explosion.

“Give him the disc.”

“What?” Tubbo sputters.

“I won’t lose you over this.  Give him the disc,” Tommy signs this slow and careful, the weight of what he’s doing makes him almost dizzy.  He just wanted to have one thing, or two, rather.  Two precious objects that represent everything he holds dear.  Tubbo is what he holds dear, and he won’t lose him over a disc that he can’t even hear anymore.

What follows is simple as it is painful.  Dream gets Mellohi.  Tommy chooses Tubbo, as he always does, as he always will, in every universe.  And Technoblade is hurt.  Dream does not wave Ranboo’s memory book like an accusation, because by then, Ranboo had started recording his memories in a tape recorder.  It is far worse for everyone to hear Ranboo’s confession played aloud, but even worse for Ranboo to look at Tubbo, and know he cannot hear a word of it.

That simplifies things, in a sense.

Doomsday could have been avoided, but not for this, and not easily.  Technoblade doesn’t bother with words when Tommy never pleads with him to stop.  The words had always been insignificant on a day like this, better surely to skip right to the violence.  That was what they were really here for.  Tommy cannot shout at Technoblade, plead for reason, for understanding, and he cannot call out Tubbo’s name to find him, so they stay together.  There isn’t much to be said as their world falls to ash, so Tommy holds Tubbo’s hand through the end.

On Doomsday, Ranboo only sees a blur of white lines and bursts of orange.  He had gone to his panic room after the community house, not because he had been outed as a traitor, but rather because he still didn’t know how to do this.  Everyone needing to choose sides and always fighting and–

He must have cried.  He doesn’t remember it now, but nonetheless, he must have.  Because when he woke up, still in the panic room, he couldn’t read the signs on the walls.  He stumbled his way back to L’Manberg, his peripheral all he has left, and he gets his pets out.  Then he watches, watches as best he can at least.  The explosions are almost beautiful, and in the dark, Ranboo cannot see the obsidian grid they emanate from so for them the bombs might as well be from the sky itself.

Phil tells him to get out of there while he still can, he’s offered a place in the arctic, but staring at the darkness, the streaks of hot, painful white, Ranboo thinks of blinding white snow, and he shudders.

Tubbo has his tape recorder, stolen by Dream somehow, but he cannot listen to it himself.  Ranboo hates the way that makes him feel relieved.

[topazshadowwolf]

I have questions about nightmare’s ability to enter dreams if that’s okay? He did it when dust was having a hard time waking up from his injuries, so can he enter any of their dreams at any time or just when they’re having negative ones? If he’s in their dreams and it becomes positive does it hurt him? Can he be in all of their dreams at once? Can he conference them all into the same dream like a zoom call?? I’m just super fascinated by this power and wondering if we’ll see him use it again?

OH if he slipped in and one of them was having a super positive dream about him (maybe a bit father-figurey) how would he feel? Or!!! If they were having a nightmare (haha) about him how would he deal with it?

(Sorry this is so much I just think this is a super interesting ability and I’ve never seen it before but I love it!!)

That is totally okay, just next time just send it in a bunch of different asks. Simply because I do ramble... and this is going to be long. Okay! Onto the questions. (Spoilers ahead if you aren't caught up to that scene at least)

Okay, so this is an ability that the originals do not have, which is odd to me considering their names. Or so my research found. So I did have to put this together myself. He gets into dreams through emotions and naturally, he can not use positive emotions, it would have to be negative.

---

(all of these are from Ch 5)

The emotions were like tendrils, much like his own physical ones. Most were not one solid color, formed out of blips of various emotions strung together by a scattered mind. Projecting his mental self, Nightmare took hold of one that he saw was one solid color. That one will lead to Dust’s consciousness. Upon his mental state touching it, he could feel himself fill with the emotion it was projecting.

REGRET

He followed it down into Dust until he entered the other skeleton’s dreamscape. Once there, he found himself in a snowy space surrounded by trees.

---

That being said, while it doesn't have to be a nightmare there has to be some negative emotions felt.

Now if he was in a dream and it became positive he would not be harmed but it would be uncomfortable to him. For him, being around positive emotions generally is like being in a room with a bad smell or having a bad flavor in his mouth. However, if he is around a lot of pure positive emotions or his brother, it does sting or burn.

Since it is his consciousness, he can only be in one dream at a time. BUT, if he can get them gathered together and go to sleep himself, he can pull them into his own "dreamscape." And he can take someone from one dream to another, and even into his own. So, in theory, he can collect them together.

Though he would not be doing any important meetings. After all:

---

“You have been here long enough. It is time for you to rejoin us. Is that understood?” Nightmare asked.

“yes, boss…,” Dust looked like he wanted to shrink away from the idea, but he didn’t. Nightmare smiled and nodded at that.

“Good, we will speak again in the waking world, where I know you will remember my words. What is said and done in dreams are oftentimes forgotten,” Nightmare stated before turning and leaving.

---

The only thing to remember about dreams... they are affected by the mind of the one having the dream. After all, Phantom Papyrus is still a hallucination even though Nightmare saw him.

---

“HE WANTS TO CONTINUE HIDING LIKE THE COWARD HE IS,” a sharp voice mocked as a distinct apparition appeared. Two bright red eyes looked at Nightmare, and he could feel it was the primary source of self-loathing.

“So, I am finally meeting the infamous phantom? I would like to say it is a pleasure, but it is not,” Nightmare said with a grin before making a shooing motion with his hand to wave the false ghost away. “We were having a private conversation. One that I don’t remember inviting you to join.”

“BY BEING HERE, YOU AUTOMATICALLY DID!” the phantom snapped angrily before resting his hands on Dust’s shoulders. “DO YOU HEAR HOW HE SPEAKS TO ME? WE SHOULD KICK HIM OUT. HE’S NOT WELCOME IN YOUR HEAD.”

---

Seeing anything in your dreams does not make it true, and anyone being in your dreams does have access to what you see. Including... memories.

I am inclined to believe it will be used again. However, it is not going to be as common as entering someone's dreams is intrusive. Dreams can be memories, our weakest moments, our fears. Also, It is leaving his body unguarded as his mind is someplace else. This leaves him very vulnerable. Between those two reasons, he does not often use this ability. (This is not true if the dream is his and he pulls someone into his dreams)

Now, if he came to a dream and found them dreaming about him being their father, he would be both amused and... worried? happy? Oh dear... they don't really think of him that way, do they? He would likely stay unseen and watch as he tries to figure out why they feel that way about him.

And a nightmare about him?! No, no, NO! That will not do. Is it because they are dreaming something bad happened to him? Well then, he will appear and make sure that one is aware he is alright. And if it is a dream about him yelling or hurting one of them. Well, he will, again, make himself known and tell this imposter to go away. That he will not tolerate anyone looking like him talking to his sons henchmen like that

[scribblesbyb]

Writing Game Week #1: Use These Prompts to Get Back Into Writing!

Prompt 1 Prompt 2 Prompt 3 Prompt 4 Prompt 5 Prompt 6 Prompt 7

A/N: End of the week! Yay. This streak was nice but let's see if it'll carry on for another week lol

Anyway~ This one was...strange. Didn't know where I was going but hey

Tags: Goth fantasy

WC: 1031

Prompt 8:It was a moonless night, a smell of copper filled the air; definitely, a night where nightmares…..

It was a moonless night; a night where nightmares came alive. With the smell of copper filling the air, what a perfect time for Dawn to rise.

Leisurely, her pale, bony arms stretched towards the outskirts of her coffin. Long, bloody nails dug into the dirt around her as she, so effortlessly, removed the lid hiding her body from the modern world. 

Dusting the crimson dress that stuck to her pear-shaped body, a fullness untouched by the years of rotting in a grave, she helped herself out of the hole.

Dawn’s bare feet tickled the short grass under her soles. Being grounded in nature again made her feel happy, blissful, alive. Her thin lips, smeared with blood from her last meal, smiled at the irony.

Gliding across the graveyard, Dawn’s dirty hands tapped one tombstone after the other—intentionally missing some. At her touch, those seemingly resting under the surface awoke, obeying their Goddess' silent command.

Rotting teeth and pale bodies stayed on Dawn’s trail. Some carried dead pets in their arms or perched on their shoulders. Others wore accessories from a lost time. Monocles, pocket watches, cigarette holders.

Finally reaching the graveyard’s gates, and with a dozen of her followers behind her, Dawn snapped both set of fingers. A transparent veil webbed itself into existence, starting from the tips of Dawn’s nails and going on, creating one thread after the other, till it hid the undead from prying eyes.

Dawn began to lead them out into the world. Out the gates, across many streets, and into the hustle and bustle of the city. 

Protected by her veil, the army of undead, as one might call them, split up and blended into the human crowd. With cloudy eyes, they pried into their lives, looking over their shoulders to watch what they were doing. 

Whenever a human would flop as a shiver ran down their spine, an undead would giggle. Same went for when they’d mistake their goosebumps for excitement, not knowing that an undead was touching them, in awe of how alive their skin felt.

Some took offense when a human would mistake them for someone else. When they’d stand and speak to the space around them, and thank their deceased loved ones for watching over them. But that was never the case. Unless they were part of Dawn’s following that is.

A rare few of them didn’t make it back from Dawn’s strolls; their bodies destroyed by a swift snap of her fingers. Those were the ones whose fascination turned into hysteria. Their fragile minds couldn’t fathom seeing but not experiencing life.

Dawn had no need for weaklings.

Arriving at her destination, finally, Dawn turned and whistled; a high-pitched noise only her followers and dogs would hear. The undead flocked to her side, while a number of humans looked quizzically at their dogs, cocking their heads and twitching their ears for a moment.

With a silky voice, and in an ancient tongue long-forgotten, Dawn spoke.

“I hope we’re not late. I’d hate to miss it.”

Her long neck looked up at the abandoned mansion that stood before her. Pale, blueish, and greenish veins drew maps on her exposed collarbones and chest as she inhaled deeply.

Breathing out a misty exhale, the air from her rotting lungs swiftly breaking down the manor’s door. It landed quietly, not even a thud to be heard. 

A cyclone of dust circled them. They watched as it gradually grew, moving with the help of Dawn’s fingers further inside what she once called home, stopping at what she once called a ballroom.

The cyclone dissipated into shapes; bodies; three to be exact. The dust also formed a throne-like chair and a big TV out of thin air. With another echoing snap, the dust fell off the figures in one swift motion, revealing them.

“See? I told you she wouldn’t be late. It’s her favorite show!”

A black-haired young woman with gleaming blue eyes chimed before turning to set up the TV behind her. The man she was reprimanding, a tall, thin, scrawny, and bald fellow, quickly plastered on a smile.

“Welcome, Goddess. We’ve been waiting all month for the moon to disappear.”

The third of the group, one whose gender was unclear, dropped to their knees in respect. With pinkish lips and long hair that covered half their face, their meek voice piled on with, “We hope we’re able to rightfully entertain you and your following this month too, Goddess.”

Dawn stepping out of the veil, revealed herself to them. Eyes cast to the ground, fearful of what would happen if they gazed upon her ethereal presence, they prayed in her ancient tongue.

Pleased, Dawn snapped her fingers, revealing the rest of the undead.

“You have your work cut out for you.” Dawn joked in her language. “My following has doubled since last time.”

“We can see that, Goddess.” Maria, the black-haired woman breathed out nervously.

“Rest assured, we’re up for it!” Dax, the tall man exclaimed.

Ash brushed their hair to the side, counting the heads rolling off on shoulders or dangling off broken necks. “13 is no feat, Goddess.”

Dawn smiled, showing little beads of porcelain teeth.  

“Are you ready for me, then?”

Maria jumped, not expecting to be singled out. “Y-yes, Goddess,” she stuttered, gesturing grandly at the chair.

Gracefully, Dawn stepped up to her throne and slowly sat down. She hummed, pleased that her human followers had kept it clean, comfortable, and unbothered. 

Maria nodded, now turning to turn on Dawn’s favorite show; the one thing on Earth she indulged in. While they were bothersome mortals, she didn’t mind confessing that this show was a guilty pleasure of hers.

As she sat there taking in the scenes unfolding on the screen opposite her, Maria, Dax, and Ash took to entertaining her followers. Whatever they desired, the three humans would grant them.

Knowledge. Companionship. Blood. Flesh. Conversation. Sex.

It didn’t matter.

The friends knew it would be worth it in the end.

Perhaps not now. Perhaps not for years to come. But when death came knocking at their doors, they’d be joining their Goddess for strolls under moonless nights. 

That was devotion. That was loyalty.

[oddinary4bts]

OC better wake up and claim the JUnGCOCK!!! That Laura girl seems to want a piece and she should not allow it!!👏🏼

Lol I got too excited hehe

Oooof she better wake up or she’ll be too late uh??🫣 Laura needs to back off💅🏼

[thetalesofno-one]

Curse of Strahd, Act I: Pt. 1, Ch. III -43 Tallies-

D&D Campaign Retelling Part 1/? Chapter 3/5 ~5.3k words Content Warnings: Curse of Strahd typical content, Read at own risk

Summary Forced together by the mists and lost in a strange new land, our four strangers run into a grim omen along their path and a fork in their road. The Ghost, the Rebel, the Charmer, and the Holy Man finally reveal their names where the deadmen carve their messages on the bones of trees. Read Previous Chapters also available on AO3

Time seems timeless in this place. 

No light wanders behind shaded skies, no sun, no stars. All the heavens diffused entirely behind grey skies hung so low the tops of the barren trees stretch their fingers to touch the clouds. A heavy shroud without breath, suffocating the land. Grasses greyed and withered, thin as straw, dry as hay. Their stalks rustle lightly in the rain with an endless shifting that carries the mind to places beyond. Luring thoughts away from the land like a dream.

Left in the rustling silence, Emet’s mind wanders.

The dim dissonance with the world bringing back memories of a darkened shop thick with the scent of paper and leather. Of a worktable scattered with various tools and thread, half sewn signatures left in a neat stack beside a half drunk and forgotten glass of wine as he remeasures a board and pares the edges of supple smooth leather, the scrapings curling across his fingers. Of candlelight flickering long through the sunken day, windows ever cast in the shadows of spires. Of night slipping over the city like a thief, light fingers pocketing the sun in velvet black without so much as a blink of notice from the little shop. The candles burning ever bright, the day’s end only realized when the flame flickers thin and the darkness steals the workman’s light.

Fingers pricked with needle thin scars and paper thin cuts lighting another candle. Hair loosely tied back, a few strands always slipping free as he smooths the marked tape along a new edge and carefully notes the measurements with a tailor’s precision. Of a guillotine blade sliding through a stack of vellum and trimming its edges to a fine point, a perfect block to be folded. Of the smooth texture of bone between his fingers, the gentle scrape as he runs the folder across the edge of a bent sheet, turning a bowed page into a sharp crease. Glue sticks to his wrist from a missed spot on the wooden table, the book shaping in his mind before its pieces are folded and glued and sewn together. 

And all the while, the quiet loneliness whispering at his back with a phantom silence. Not of presence, but absence. Empty. The weight of a space where someone should be, infinitely loud in its stillness. Its siren voice chased away by the endless work. Its words unheard and yet unignored. Every movement his, every breath slipped through his teeth with no other lips to catch it. Scarred hands reaching for tools no other fingers brush across. And all the while knowing when he finally stops, the kitchen will be empty, the home devoid of spiced currents in the air, the bed cold. The bitterness left in tasting the flavors of an old life when you know now the sweetness of another.

“There is a scent of death.”

Emet’s attention snaps from lullaby memories. The holy man stopped along the muddy road, bent nose turned up and sniffing the air.

“Maybe undeath.”

The blades are in Emet’s hands before the old human even finishes his sentence. The broken glaive hanging dangerously from his hand, vicious tip polished to perfection and flashing brilliantly in the dim light. A stark contrast against the dark bloodstained cloth wrapped around its shattered haft. 

The charmer knocks an arrow into his charred longbow with the fluidity of someone who has fired it under dire circumstances. A faint scent of smoke whispers past as his fingers tug the string lightly, ready for trouble. 

“I don’t like this,” the rebel whispers, slipping her arm through a shield—a small round thing of black and gold painted metal. A coil of whip hangs from her belt but she reaches for metal instead. The short blade slips free of its sheath with a faint hushed breath.

The all too familiar stench of death doesn’t yet reach Emet’s nose, but he has no reason to doubt the holy man in this. Eyes flickering through the mist, resentment wraps itself around Emet’s chest and burns through his scars. But there is no place for spitting out what has been earned because of the hand that offers it. Not when it comes to undeath. Emet calls on his forsaken power. Soul reaching out beyond himself with clawed grasping hands ready to take what might be denied, he stretches out his inner self toward a god he isn’t sure will answer. Toward a god who heard his screams and turned away.

Power floods through Emet’s irises in a dim display. Pale grey light ignites his faded eyes in a hollow glow burning with ghost fire, and though they do not shine with the brilliant white of beacons as they once did, the divine sense is not gone entirely. Not yet.

The rebel glances up at him with an unreadable expression, but he ignores her and scans the mists around them. If anything undead or fiendish in nature lurks nearby, the divine power flowing through him will draw his attentions like someone taking his chin and gently pointing him toward unseen dangers. But no phantom fingers grace his scarred jaw or pull at his divinely heightened senses. Whatever smells of death here must then truly be dead.

Giving a nod to continue on, the holy man presses forward with the slow and quiet feet of a hunter stalking its prey. The faded light falls from Emet’s eyes after a moment and he feels the divine slip away from him with a cold chill. The rebel still stares at him with narrowed eyes and uplifted brow, but her lips remain sealed. Whatever question lurks in her mind, he suspects she no longer needs to ask it. A curiosity that seems less about the ability and more about the person wielding it. 

Though he no longer wears his holy symbol or any sign of faith emblazoned on his person, no trace of a past better left buried, it is not uncommon knowledge to those of faith that only paladins—knights of gods—are blessed with such an ability. And Emet realizes he’s let something of himself slip in front of knowing eyes.

The rebel’s lips part—

The scent finally reaches them.

Sickly sweet and turning the stomach with a heavy wave of bile. Both enticing and revolting in that way only death can be. Corpse rot. There’s no doubt. Not but fifteen feet down the road, a human body decomposes half off the path with arms outreached toward the road as though it breathed its last in a desperate crawl. A young man once, clothes torn by brambles and thorns with flesh pockmarked by the beaks of birds feasting on an easy meal. A tarnished copper compass spills out from that outstretched hand, its red needle trembling and twisting uncertainly as though unable to find North.

The holy man kneels beside the body and looks it over without touching the overly soft and rain sodden flesh. The boy’s skin shifts across his bones with gelatinous ripples as the old man accidentally shifts the mud in taking a knee. A slimy sheen has already settled over the pale flesh like melted fat. Long strips and sharp pecks break through the wet surface to expose the black and purple insides, dark as a bruise, the blood long clotted and rotting. White bone peaks out from cheeks a fingertips, the nose half consumed. The birds have eaten well.

The holy man narrates his findings softly. Scratches from branches and brush, gaunt flesh, sunken eyes—what remains of them, at least—but no visible mortal wounds. The young man died from exhaustion of all things. The holy man’s eyes take on a dark and certain stain when he says the word. 

Exhaustion.

How the holy man knows, Emet isn’t sure. But he never was the best at healing during training. Healing required not just blind faith like those outside of holy orders assume when they beg healers to fix their every ailing, but also knowledge of medicine. A bone cannot be knit together without knowing how its structure is woven together. A crushed hand cannot be reconstructed if one does not understand the pattern of nerves and vessels, tendon and ligament. Or rather, it will heal with faith alone, but it will never be the same again without knowledge behind it.

Emet has always been better at the unmaking…perhaps that’s why they were put together during training. 

Him and Azemir. 

Wrapped eternally like wax around the cold stillness of Emet’s heart, his name brings warmth to the hollows of Emet’s soul where nothing grows. Ever a flame without shadow, a sun without night. Healing and warmth have always been more of Azem’s specialty and Emet wonders how long it will be before he can touch those healing hands and feel their warmth. How far he must go to set things right again. When they will talk without so much distance between them. Or if whatever has happened in these mists will delay his journey. He will walk a hundred lifetimes seeking a way back if that’s what it takes. He will carry the weight of that name forever.

Sickening chills drift and trail cold fingers across Emet’s body snuffing out the thin flame of Azem’s name within his soul—always touching, always grasping. He shudders and crawls within his own skin wanting to shrink away, wanting to claw them off. They touch and grasp and choke and scream—

The calming coolness of one washes away all the others for but a moment. And Emet can breathe. Just one breath. Before they drift back like the sea and cling to him as algae on an anchor. But it’s enough. Why they grow restless, he doesn’t always know. Perhaps a reminder of the promise he made them so it doesn’t settle unfulfilled.

Emet’s eyes follow the old man’s ministrations with that name balanced delicately on the tip of his tongue. The way the old man’s rough and calloused hands move light as feathers over the boy’s corpse as though the kid can feel anything anymore. Pain is beyond him now, but still the old man moves gently. Emet isn’t sure what he is searching for. Perhaps some other answer than the one he already knows and something in the holy man’s expression settles like wet sand over a stone when he finds no other. The warm candle flame in his eyes dimming beneath a cold and familiar wind.

The old man rests a hand over the boy’s rotting one in a strange gesture of comfort. Bowing his smooth shaved head, he whispers blessings beneath his breath. Emet isn’t sure why the old man bothers. There’s nothing left to save.

Nudging the broken compass after his prayers and looking to where the boy’s hand falls, the holy man quirks his mouth sadly. Perhaps seeing another blessing where there is none.

“The boy was going this way,” he points to the opposite side of the wagon trail toward a tree bearing faint tally marks—43 of them. An arrow carved into its bark points away from the muddy road toward a thin path cutting deeper into the woods. A jagged knife cut through the trees, all but unnoticed if it weren’t for the arrow to point the way.

“You want to follow the dead’s path,” Emet asks incredulously.

“Why not?” The charmer steps over the rotting corpse’s outstretched arm to get a better look at the path behind the body rather than ahead, “He’s probably a criminal trying to leave, so I’d say follow where he came from and we’ll find civilization.”

“Why would you say he’s a criminal?”

“Why else would he be out here?”

“Why are we out here,” the rebel counters.

The holy man looks up from body, “And we are not criminals.”

The rebel gives the holy man a nod, “What the old man said.”

“I am not that old.”

Emet looks over the kneeling holy man. Crows feet spiderweb out from his eyes into well worn paths, tracing old channels. Deep lines folding into the leather of his human face, ripples and cracks where great emotion has marked it forever in memory. The echos of pain and joy held forever in weathered lines. Calloused rough hands scarred with the burden of much hardship dust off his knees as the holy man stands from the corpse. But no light cracks and pops fill the air as his bones settle. And he springs back from his crouch with ease, not even bothering to lean on his shepherd’s staff. The skin past his toughened hands bears much scarring and yet a youthful smoothness. 

If he is not old, then he lived a life full of immeasurable hardship.

The holy man quirks his head to the side and returns Emet’s stare, “Why are you looking at me like you are reading stones in the sand?”

“Human ages are a bit difficult for elves to determine,” Emet admits.

“I am thirty-two.”

The charmer and rebel both snort.

“Nah, mate,” the rebel crosses her arms and grins, “You’re at least sixty.”

“I am not lying.”

She smiles, “Whatever, old man.”

The holy man scrubs his scrawled salt and pepper beard, gesturing off to Emet, “I am not old, he is old. Elves are always old.”

Emet concedes that with a shrug. He’s already lived more years than most of those with him could hope to ever reach and lifetimes before that.

“Yet he looks closer to thirty-two than you, old man,” the rebel continues, picking her nails with a sly grin.

“That is because he is an elf.”

“And I’m not?”

The holy man sighs.

“Ah, I’m just fucking with you, grandpa” she chuckles, “I know I’m half human.”

“You are half—what are you doing?”

The charmer barely pauses his light-fingered search of the dead boy’s pockets, finding more interest in stealing from the dead than their idle chatter. The holy man is about to admonish him further when the tiefling carelessly flips the body onto its stomach and continues his search through pockets.

The holy hand throws up a hand, all conversation on age and good looks forgotten.

“Eh! Eh! Devil boy! Respect the dead! I already took his compass if that is what you are looking for.”

The charmer ignores him, his hands continuing to wander across the ragged clothes and slipping into the pockets and folds as though it is a dance they have performed many times before. His fingers wander with a speed born of practice, seeking whatever the dead may hide. But his search is fruitless, the tiefling finding little more than a small pocket knife like used to carve the tree with its 43 tallies. He turns the small blade this way and that in his red hands, dark nails tracing the edge before pricking his thumb atop the tip. No blood flows along the blunted edge.

With one quick toss, the useless blade flies over his shoulder, “I’m a bit too far gone for respecting the dead at this point.”

The holy man frowns deeply, those ancient lines creasing in old paths. He turns away from the grim display and takes out his feather once more. Whispering more quiet words meant only for the far reaching ears of gods, the old man holds the brilliant feather out before him like a candle in the dark. After a breath, he releases the stem and watches it flutter listlessly to the wet ground. The stem settles first in the mud, its tip angling lightly toward the deadman’s path.

“I think we should go this way.”

Emet’s lips curl into a faint snarl, “How much faith do you have in that feather?”

“A lot of faith.”

“Do you honestly trust that more than the actual, factual compass you have in your other hand?” The rebel asks with no small amount of skepticism, the moment of warmth shared between them only a moment ago blowing away with the breeze.

“It has never lead me wrong, nor has my god. Besides,” the holy man tosses the tarnished bronze compass to the rebel, “this does nothing. It is broken.”

“I can’t fucking map-read,” she growls as she snatches it from the air with a loud clang as the compass hits the edge of her shield. The rebel palms the bronze and glass bauble in her hands, watching it a moment and expecting the needle to settle. But the sharp red spine continues to wobble and spin as though unsure.

Her eyes narrow, “I don’t think it’s meant to do that.”

“I have never had a compass,” the holy man shrugs, “but I did not think so.”

“Hey, poncy bloke,” the rebel looks up at Emet, “You look like you know how to use this kind of shit.”

Emet arcs a sharp brow at the nickname. In the absence of anyone having offered up their names, it was inevitable they’d all call each other something. But poncy bloke? Not exactly his first guess. Most people went with ‘giant’ or ‘tower’. He’s even heard ‘statue’. 

The rebel’s arm swings out with the compass and all the world slows. Emet’s breath catches and his eyes lock on that approaching hand like a blade plummeting toward his gut. For a moment he can’t see, his vision crystalizing on that hand and blurring all the world around it as he instinctively steps away before he’s even realized what he’s done. His body moving without thought, shifting back as though about to be skewered in a fight before the moment ends and only an open palm offering a compass hangs before him. 

A strange look crosses the half-elf’s face. 

Emet thought he was starting to get better about this. Hand-shakes, fingers brushing when taking a drink from a server’s hands, shoulders getting bumped in a crowded tavern. All of these things he could handle with a steadying breath. But all of those things are expected touches. Expected moments that he can predict and prepare for, ready his nerves to stand firm. But the more unexpected the approach, the more he steps back into the shelter of himself like a fox cornered between stones with nowhere to run from the wolf’s shadow. And his body reacts with all it knows in that moment. Fear.

Emet shifts his blade arm deeper beneath the dark cloak draped over his shoulder, drawing attention away from the hand wrapped tightly around the glaive’s broken haft with a light cough as he forces his clenched fingers to release. He breathes, thankful he did not draw steel this time. 

Acting as though nothing happened, Emet stiffly leans over when the rebel gives the compass a little shake, beckoning him to take a look. Her face immediately screws up, recoiling as though he’s some shit-faced drunk at the bar thick with the scent of whiskey and lust and offering her the best lay of her life. Emet doesn’t understand the shift in her expression a moment before he realizes he’s a very large man looming over this young woman despite the distance his previous reaction put between them. The half-elf’s discomfort is readily apparent and Emet quickly puts some space between them after a brief glance down at the compass.

“No, it’s not supposed to do that,” he says gently.

The compass disappears in one of the rebel’s belt pouches as she shuffles away from him, risking a look over to the holy man as though asking him to interpret what the hell just happened. The old man only shrugs lightly.

Everything is going wrong, that’s what happened.

He almost apologizes, but the words catch in his throat. What if doing so makes them ask why he practically jumped away from her. Those aren’t questions he’s ready to answer, so better to not give an opportunity for them to be asked.

“So we have a feather, a broken compass, and I’m hoping you’re a tracker,” Emet says to the charmer, trying to plough through and trample into dust whatever walls this disaster of a conversation brought up before anyone thinks too hard on it.

The tiefling regards him a moment before flicking away a piece of dried grass twirling between his long fingers, “I rely on instinct and I’m with the old man on this one. His dumb feather pointed to where I wanted to go anyways.”

“Thank you, young boy,” the holy man nods.

“Watch it.”

“You keep calling me ‘old man’, why can’t I call you ‘young boy’. It is better than ‘devil boy’, no?”

“You’re fair game,” the tiefling bites back, “I’m not.”

Emet pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing, “Would it not be better to call each other by our actual names instead of these substitutes.” He cuts a glance at the rebel to his side, “Creative as they are.”

The charmer scoffs, “Let’s not get sentimental.”

“First names, then.”

The holy man’s eyes widen incredulously, face scrunching as though Emet just suggested the moon is an illusion, “I only have one name. Are you supposed to have more?”

“Typically…Your name and a family name.”

The rebel murmurs something under her breath about having too many.

“That is a…weird revelation, but okay.” The holy man lifts his hand in greeting, “My name is Roshan, but you can call me ‘old man’ if you like.”

“Emet. We’ll leave it at that for now.”

Both the charmer and rebel suddenly find great interest in some moss on a tree and a particularly long strand of dried grass as Emet and Roshan’s attentions fall on them in expectant silence. 

“I can just call you ‘devil boy’ and ‘lovely elf lady’ if you want,” Roshan offers.

The charmer rolls his eyes and flicks away the chunk of moss, “Evrrot. You can call me Evrrot.”

Kicking a loose stone on the ground, the rebel keeps her voice low. Perhaps hoping no one will actually hear her, “Most people call me Evie.”

Roshan nods after each one, fingers twirling in his beard as though he can tie each name to his memory, “Emet, Evrrot, Evie. Everyone is an ‘E’. That is strange, but okay.”

“So we’re done here?” Evrrot asks, “Everyone all happy with their little names?”

He walks off down the deadman’s path without waiting for an answer, abruptly ending the conversation that was more akin to pulling teeth than basic introductions. Roshan quickly follows with a grin, resuming his practice of trying to walk ahead of Evrrot, further irritating the charmer tiefling into a faster pace.

Emet and Evie watch them hastily disappear between the trees, left behind again. Realization slowly dawns on them as they share another look that this will likely be their shared fate quite often in the days ahead.

“You know,” Evie says, “I get the feeling that wherever we go, we’re gonna end up in the same place anyways.”

“As do I,” Emet sighs. 

“We could just keep following this muddy slop road and they’d probably end up right behind us.” She shrugs, “We could just go.”

“Tempting, though I get the feeling we shouldn’t be separating in a place like this.” He glances around the dark and silent forest pointedly, the mists shifting into strange shapes and shadows in the distance.

“Mmm, probably right,” she groans. “Come on then.”

Evie ushers Emet ahead of her and they follow the already fading silhouettes of Evrrot and Roshan. Both still vie for who gets to lead without there ever being a winner. Though from the near permanent curl to the old human’s lips, Emet suspects Roshan takes the game itself as a win.

The arrow carved into the tree above forty-three sharp tallies—every slash bearing down harder than the last, the groupings becoming more sporadic and wild, telling a tale of madness and desperation—points them down a narrow footpath. The trail is thin, quickly forcing them into a line as the trees and brush crowd in eagerly to either side. Branches reaching out to snag on their clothes and boots sinking in the thick slosh of earth. Roshan and Evrrot are forced to relinquish their game of footsie. ‘Devil boy’ comes out on top as he slips ahead of the holy man through a rather narrow bend where two barren trees crowd as desperately close as lovers in a storm. Despite the loss, Roshan casts a secret little amused grin toward him and Evie. A promise their game is far from over.

Though the scent of decay and rot gradually gave way to bitterly sharp winter air as they walked beyond the corpse along the road, it returns again, thick as ever in their lungs and threatening to make them choke. Ahead, an eerily similar tree with another forty-three tallies looms near the path with a bowed back, its branches nearly sweeping the dried grasses. Another arrow continues to point further down the path. But it’s the second body that makes this repetition unsettling, a shiver passing through their bones as though someone walked over their graves. 

A bulking husk, ribs splayed open in grim offering to the meal of its soft blackened innards spills out across the path. Bloated gases wafting from the entrails with fresh release as though only recently released from the prison of bone. A half eaten yawning skull grins up at them through the sinew of the face it once wore, hooves splayed out in deep grooves as though the beast tried to keep running until the very moment of death. The rotting horse rests on its side, never to rise again.

Evrrot studies the body from a good distance where the smell is not quite so overwhelming. Emet notes he doesn’t pinch his nose from the stench as though it is one he well accustomed to. In fact, none of them do. An odd revelation, but one Emet isn’t yet sure of what it means. His own line of work often sent him delving into crypts and left him covered in the rot of decay for hours before he could finally scrub it off. But the average person does not easily handle such a scent without practice. The newest recruits to the order often went on several missions before they could stand it without bile filling their throats. His own first experience left him nauseated for days and unable to keep anything more than light broth down.

Evrrot steps over the splayed hooves, “Alright, so that dead guy was on this horse obviously. Probably riding away from whatever settlement is down the path. His horse dies, he goes on foot, and then he dies.”

“Or the other way around,” Evie counters, “Horse could’ve thrown him, then the horse went and died.”

Roshan hops lightly over the body, kneeling by the tree with a dagger of his own and carving a new tally to the set, “Maybe he was carrying the horse,” the old man offers sagely, “He was very tired.”

All eyes turn on him and Roshan simply grins.

With the tally carved, Evrrot quickly jumps ahead of the holy man and presses the group further down the pointed path. Emet steps carefully over the corpse, glancing back at Evie to see if she desires a hand. But the half elf stares off behind them, unawares. The path they’ve walked is already half swallowed by mist, the large wagon trail long gone from view. She twists back with a sigh, face quickly shifting as she gives him a glare to move. They continue on.

Eerie becomes troubling when the path leads to a third tree with the same forty-three tallies and another arrow. The lack of a corpse this time does little to alleviate the hook twisting in Emet’s stomach. It lifts and snarls his insides, not in pain, but in anticipation. Anticipation of the moment it will all go wrong. 

This is what it felt like that day. The day he should’ve listened to his instincts.

The arrow points to a swallowed path. All sign of trail and trees vanish behind a solid wall of fog so thick Emet cannot see even a glimpse of what lies beyond. It bisect everything perfectly, trees ending abruptly as though severed by blade. As though a curtain were drawn across the land on a giant stage. The line the mist cuts across the path is unnaturally defined, too sharp and perfect and to be natural, yet permeable as proven by the grasses swaying in and out, vanishing instantly on the other side, yet returning again.

The foreboding hook twists deeper with the echo of Emet’s past. Of dark crypts and silent darkness, a day that started in laughter and ended in screams. Blood spilled beneath the sickening brightness of beautiful sunny day, the color forever tainted in red. They should’ve stayed on the well-worn wagon path. They never should have cut through these godforsaken woods. His instincts tell him to turn back now, but going back on his own still seems a far more foolish idea in these unknown lands. 

Emet steels himself. A chilled touch settles over his shoulder. If the self-chosen leaders get him killed—if they ruin what he’s given everything for—Emet will never allow them a moment’s peace. Not in this life or the next. He already knows Kelemvor will never collect his twice damned soul. Not after what he did. So he’ll have all the time in eternity’s glass to make good on his vow. Maybe this one he’ll keep.

“This repetition is how the kid died.” He glares at the severed path, “We’re going in circles.”

“This isn’t the same as the last tree,” Evie says, “The old guy put an extra mark in that one. Plus, no dead things.”

“Not yet.”

But Emet suspects they will pass that tree again and the horse one beyond. And if his instinct proves right, they will do so again and again until they too die of exhaustion, carving tallies into trees until they can carve no more. There’s madness here and he’ll be damned if it catches him off guard. But the dead kid probably thought the same thing. Now he rots with a skeletal finger ever reaching for the path that killed him. A warning they did not heed.

The wall looms before them, vast and endless until it vanishes into the grey of the skies. Tendrils of thick mist swirl and twist like eels against the edges, unseen bodies pressing against the glass but never breaking through. The snaking, winding movement is almost hypnotic in the terrible silence.

Evie’s eyes narrow, “Anyone else think this fog is fucky?”

“Yes,” Emet and Roshan answer in unison.

The holy man taps his staff, warm dawns light spreading across the wood like honey. Though it glows in the deep reds and oranges of the morning sun, the light does little to chase away the sickly grey of this place. 

He nods satisfied, “But this is the path, so let’s go.”

Emet blanches as Roshan lifts his shepherd’s crook and presses toward the wall of fog without another thought. He vanishes instantly. Whatever god this holy man follows, Emet hopes they have as much faith in their followers as Roshan does in them because this is about as foolish as sticking your hand in a nesting viper’s den and trusting it will not bite.

Evrrot—never more than a half step behind the holy man—strolls past the moon elf as casually and carelessly as choosing a garden path to stroll, vanishing almost instantly behind the old human. Not even a shadow is left to hint at their passing.

Emet stands speechless, too shocked to believe what he’s just seen.

The words finally come to him, “Well, fuck.”

[arigatonamuse]

another week, another A3! re-read notes post

this time it's

Act 2 - A SUMMER of Overcomings! (pt1)

(warning: there's some Tenma salt, i'm sorry, it took him a while to grow on me and this re-read reminded me why)

Chapter 1

i am once again thinking about the A3! Timeline (someone stop me please)

Sakuya’s toast makes me so emotional

eheheheh Sakyo’s survey 

Tsuzuru: “who did you scout?” Izumi, knowing full well that Tsuzuru’s annoyed by Kazunari: “teehee it’s a surprise!”

ksdjbvhdfvf i would love to see Tetsuro on stage

also smh Tsuzuru there are characters who don’t talk in stage, not everyone has to have lines (for example: Kattrin in Brecht’s Mother Courage and Her Children)

Chapter 2

heheh Kazu and Yuki time

ah Kazu beloved… you can afford to be a lil less shallow with Mankai, i promise honestly i do think that his reason for joining is okay? like yeah you can join into / try new things just because, but Mankai wasn’t in a position to afford that back then

fdgfchgvjhbk Kazu come on I do love how he didn’t lose his energy with the info that Yuki’s a dude 

oh Yuki my dear Friendly McExtrovert won’t even be your biggest problem regarding troupemates in this arc

MUKU IS HERE

Tsuzuru vouching for Kazu despite everything

but also guys please don’t ignore my baby boy

baby boy

good, Muku, speak out for yourself!

It’s so weird to hear Muku and Yuki call each other by their last name now

Muku bby you haven’t auditioned yet, please don’t talk like that

Tenten!

Chapter 3

Tenma wtf’s up with that attitude you literally just went inside

Honestly i admire Izumi’s patience with him, i would’ve gone “look do you wanna be here or not?”

sdkhvbdfhv Yuki’s me

pot, meet kettle

istg if you don’t wanna be there you can just leave

Kazu you’re just calling him a nepobaby

i’m glad Yuki keeps calling him out, and even gladder when he did it after Muku felt like he had to apologise bc of his sigh

Muku bby no one said that

thank you, Yuki and Izumi

hm i’m puzzled about this line bc i did hear it change? I wonder what Izumi said in japanese

Chapter 4

kdbvhsdbvkd Yuki at least Izumi held an audition this time around

no one’s forcing you to be there! shut up!

mmmmm i don’t like this line

also idk if Tenma’s problem is not knowing how to read the room or just… knowing how to read it and not caring

ITARU AND CITRON FUDANSHI REAL?

haha hello fourth wall leaning Also Tsuzuru, you’re literally an RPF writer, you have no room to talk

the impulse to call Tenma a culicagado

thank you, Izumi

something something Sakuya’s acting having inspired THE Tenma Sumeragi

“halfway decent” those weren’t your words in Ep 1 Ch 35

why are you like this

Sakuya you’re too cute ;w;

Chapter 5

I do love how Kazu mentions Tsuzuru as a reason to stay at the dorms something something longing for a genuine connection something something Tsuzuru being important to him already

I’m glad Izumi double checked with the parents even when the kids tell her they have permission

i’d forgotten just how endearing Muku’s dad was 

it would’ve been interesting to see Kazu and Yuki as roommates

“Savage, but valid!” is actually one of my fave reactions to things

but also something something Kazu being a people pleaser something something letting people walk over him and be “savages” to him because he’d rather take it and say it’s “valid” than to upset someone or rock the boat in any way

Chapter 6

SUMI TIME

ROOM 202 MY BELOVEDS

Chapter 7

i can’t contain my smile i love Sumi so much

i love Muku so much too

Kazu being friendly despite not knowing if Sumi’s a ghost or not will always make me feel warm

also i wanna highlight the fact that these people are barging into his space and screaming their lungs out and Sumi’s reaction is to offer them triangles you can’t get more kind hearted than that

I have the softest smile on my face just watching Misumi’s sprite slide around the screen

when a rando breaks into your dorm do you a) call the cops b) ask him to join your theatre troupe

i’m glad Izumi made the choice she made but it’s still so funny to me

ngl tho i do wonder if her choice has anything to do with the fact that Sumi just admitted that he has nowhere else to go

kinda wanna write a piece on the dehumanisation of Misumi now

Kazu and Muku the sweetest boys ever

Citron and Misumi being friendly to one another makes me feel so warm inside

Chapter 8

honestly i think that, for his first time, Yuki did pretty okay

(Muku was too anxious but still i do appreciate the effort very much)

MISUMI ACTING! 

i will forever love the change between normal Misumi and acting Misumi

Misumi’s voice in his first etude w Tenma is so hot 

Chapter 9

i love how Kazu treats Sumi so much, even when he asks something that seems airheaded like the “what’s Summer Troupe” question, Kazu takes his time to explain everything to him ;w;

okay i’d forgotten how cute their relationship was, they got me smiling like a fool now

i love Yuki’s comments and comebacks at Tenma so much this one’s one of my faves

this is an interesting line and i’m so curious about what it says on japanese i know he’s talking about manga, but tbh when you say “comic book hero” i think like Superman (or maybe it’s the MAWS brainrot) and i kinda doubt that’s what Muku meant here?

Chapter 10

is it me or are there… “mkyk could be victims of homophobia” implications here?

NO MUKKUN THAT’S NOT WHAT YUKI MEANT (he’s thinking the other way around)

it IS very cute that they all arrived together 

honestly? yes, Muku, you should call an ambulance unless someone at Mankai has training to deal with it, you should call an ambulance (i am doing my best so i don’t go on a rant about what to do in emergencies based on my first responder training)

Sumi, no don’t feed an unconscious person, please don’t put anything in their mouths

Izumi i love you but that’s not how it works (says the person who faints and gets up a couple minutes later)

See, even if he’s just sleeping, the fall could’ve caused some damage to his body, so he does need to get checked

sorry Izumi but i’m with Matsukawa this time around, the generational gap IS something to be dramatic about

i LOVE how Kazu has got the solution for this, we love a nerd 

Chapter 11

maaaaan i’m so emo at Muku’s general perception of himself his teammates were nice to him and seemingly just wanted to see him more often? but Muku still thinks he disappointed them and says that him possibly being a track star is silly and *cries*

also i don’t wanna be a nag but i think Muku should’ve told Izumi about his injury when he first joined, the practice could’ve maybe made it worse and i would HATE to see that happening (trainer brain: on)

Muku’s such a team player and someone who cares so much about others i love him

yEAH THEY STILL CARE ABOUT MUKU and i’m so upset about Muku not seeing it

Muku my boy, those kids seem to genuinely care about you, i don’t think they’d laugh at you

yes, thank you Izumi

YES IZUMI! i love how she hypes him up in this way

sobs in Floral Prince

he’s such a cutie

Chapter 12

oh man i’d forgotten how stiff Yuki and Muku’s acting was at the start

i feel so bad for Muku his anxiety is so bad ;-;

hm i do know that Muku’s always been timid and anxious but now i’m wondering if maybe his anxiety got worse after he had to quit track

i’m not gonna lose my temper i’m not gonna lose my temper i’m not gonna lose my temper i’m not gonna lose my temper i’m not gonna lose my temper i’m not gonna lose my temper HE’S SUCH AN ASSHOLE TO MUKU I CAN’T

everyone coming together to comfort Muku, thank you

THE START OF MISUMI GIVING TRIANGLES FOR COMFORT

Chapter 13

y’know i don’t get why “amateur” is a bad thing

i DO appreciate Tenma’s respect for Sakuya and trusting him with this 

have you never heard of synergy?

what kinda directors has he had ‘til now to think like this????

lol i love Izumi’s reaction to his proposal

he’s so proud of it too lmao 

Chapter 14

this kinda nitpicking i can stand i’m finally starting to relax lol

oughhhhh this line says so much about how Kazu performs in social environments too and aaaaaaaaaah Something something Kazu understands and sticks to his role of paripi but he stays on the surface and never tried to go deeper with / make something more significant out of any of the relationships he has

hey how much do y’all wanna bet that Kazu knows the right answer to this but acted like he didn’t?

Sumi giving Muku triangles makes everything right in my life

Muku is such a good boy he works so much and cares so much and and and ;w;

Chapter 15

oh i will need some mental strength to make it through this chapter

spoilt brat. 

oh An’s gonna have a field day with this line lmao 

fucking spoilt brat.

thanks, Yuki

i’m clenching my jaw so hard just to get through these scenes

ah this line

i know that it’s true, i know that Kazu knows it’s true but holy fuck this line always stings so bad

AND KAZU’S REACTIONS MAKE IT WORSE! HIM NOT KNOWING WHAT TO SAY AND TRYING TO BRUSH IT OFF STING SO BAD

my chest is actually in pain rn

Kazu having no way to defend himself against that comment because it’s true, and he knows it’s true, and any reaction he could have, be it going along with it or getting angry and defending himself, would prove that Tenma’s right and it would make Kazu’s mask slip completely 

Chapter 16

Izumi is so much better at being a caring adult than i am

she’s also way kinder to Tenma than i would be ngl

which i guess was needed because we’re finally at the point where he starts getting better, thanks to her kindness and understanding

something something people grow and thrive better in a caring and understanding environment

okay i’m finally calm with this whole situation

Chapter 17

seeing Tenma try is so nice, actually, i’m relieved

YEY MUKU FOR MAKING IT 

for once i do feel like Izumi, i can’t stop smiling either

Chapter 18

heheh fireworks (let’s ignore the fact that i don’t like fireworks because i do like this part very much)

sdkvhbhdfbv Kazu and Yuki being little shits is so fun

okay yeah Tenma’s very cute in this scene, him being both naive AND showing that he cares about the rest in his fear? good shit

Kazu is so right about Tenma missing out on school activities being a sad thing him being the one to point it out makes me wonder if he’s either speaking from experience (having focused so hard in his studies that he didn’t get to enjoy the social parts of middle school) or maybe just projecting? either way, i think this is a nice line to read with the knowledge we now have about Kazu, it kinda foreshadows the reveal that’s gonna come soon

oh i am SO fighting Kusumi for this one

LIKE LITERALLY WHAT WAS THE REASON WHY WOULD YOU NOT LET YOUR SON GO ON THOSE TRIPS? I DON’T SEE ANY REASON FOR THAT OTHER THAN PURPOSEFULLY BEING SHITTY IT’S NOT LIKE HE CARES ABOUT MISUMI BEING AROUND ANYWAY

Sumi sounds so happy when he brings up being nc with his family but then you look at how he feels about Madoka and… yeah ;-;

yes, thank you Kazu

i was gonna say Tenma was being tsun when he said they weren’t friends (yet) but he IS right, they’re not friends at this point, they just started being friendly

this scene (and CG) made me laugh a lil from joy

Chapter 19

oh Kazu… this… hm… (this is where i insert my “Kazu flirts to keep people at a distance” hc)

Yuki’s disdain for all things romance my beloved

for once we agree

i do appreciate that the messages all the boys send are vague enough to be interpreted as not flirty

except what Kazu wrote for Yuki, that one’s just annoying

Good intuition Izumi

hm do you guys think Kazu’s “making up for lost time” line applied to himself too? because him being the one to initiate the gossip session makes me feel like it does

Yuki’s disdain for all things romance my beloved (2)

ngl i always found the wording here a bit weird like he’s specifying about who he does like when he’s trying to clarify something about who he doesn’t like? my only guess is that it’s like this for the audience’s / fandom’s sake

everyone validating Yuki’s masculinity is so important to me, actually

wording here is also weird but it feels more in character 

Sumi you’re too cute, never change please

n e ways this feels too yume-bait for me so i’ll stop commenting

Chapter 20

heh Sumi recognising Yuzo is so cute to me do y’all think Yuzo ever babysat him? i think that’d be cute

it’s very interesting to me that Yuzo’s criticism of Muku is not that he was bad or wrong in any way? but that he was gonna get overshadowed

hell yeah Yuki deserves all the praise for his work

Kazu too! He’s so talented

i love the designer duo, even if Yuki said no to teaming up and being a designer duo

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

A Year Without (1/10)

Summary: After the curse returns Killian to the Enchanted Forest, he struggles to acclimate to his old life and his old ways. When a bird with a letter and memory potion arrives on his ship, he accepts the challenge to find Emma and help her save her family. Getting to Emma won't be easy and will cost him dearly, but what choice does he have when he cannot go a day without memories of her haunting him?

A03 | CH  1  |   2  |   3  |  4  |  5  |  6  |  7  |  8  |  9  |  10  | CUTS

Day 05

Golden strands of sunlight break through the forest canopy as the horse trekked on and carried him further from the Enchanted Forest for which this land was named and toward the first port on his search for his misplaced ship. Watching the golden strands dance pulled him back to Neverland.

Soft, golden strands of hair filling the space between his fingers. Warm lips pressed firmly, desperately on his own. His own surprise and quick surrender to her sudden invasion. The shift he felt in the depths of his soul when they connected for the second kiss. The words "just a one time thing" thrown at him, nonchalantly, as she raised the walls back in place to protect herself from the very real truth that kiss revealed to both of their broken hearts - broken hearts can be put back together, to be broken, again, in new ways.

Killian let out a shaky breath and pulled himself into the present. The forest was thinning, the trees less suffocating than the days before. A breeze stirred the leaves and carried a briny scent, stirring up a bit of anticipation.

Pirates, for that is all he was, belonged on ships. Fierce pirate captains, feared in the seas, belonged to their ships. And somewhere out there, the Jolly was out there, waiting for her captain to be back at her helm. Without him, she was lost, directionless, rotting at sea. Despite a lack of consciousness, she was more aware of his absence than Swan would be.

With the crocodile gone, his future lied with his ship. Wherever she was and he needed to find her to figure out just what that would entail.

Day 13

Another shabby sea town, another rumour of his ship sighted followed directly into a dead-end, another pub with cheap pints of watery ale, and another day he kept his promise to Swan.

Even, now, while drowning in the tenth? ninth? pint of the warm ale that small smile she gifted him before turning away and leaving them, leaving him, to the curse lingered in his mind. Perhaps, he'd cursed himself when he'd spoken those last words to her. Words she'd forgotten as easily as she'd forgotten him.

A loud eruption of laughter drew his attention to how crowded the pub had gotten. Killian scowled at the lot of messy sailors yelling for women, booze, and rooms. Throwing some coin on his table, he stumbled from his table toward the door. His escape was blocked by a burly in a bright red hat.

“Captain?” squeaked out a familiar voice.

Killian smiled, more of a grimace that didn’t reach his eyes, “If it isn’t my favourite, flea-ridden, bilge rat scampering about on two legs again, are we?”

“We’ve been looking for you since the curse dropped us back here. We can’t wait to join you, we’ve been keeping an eye out for the Jolly Roger, but I knew you’d find her!” Smee spoke without pause for a breathe, then he called over his shoulder to a table behind him, “boys, captain’s back, we’re going home, tonight!”

Killian groaned and stepped into the persona he’d worn so comfortably over the last few hundred years.

Hook turned, spread his arms wide, and greeted his former crew with a wicked smile. “Men, tonight we celebrate for tomorrow we will begin a new adventure. One on land. Relieving many a carriage of their burdens.”

Day 27

A few of his faithful crew left that night, muttering about how the captain had either gone soft or lost his senses. The few who'd stayed with him had profited handsomely. They'd gotten rich as highway bandits as they travelled between ports searching for the Jolly.

While they enjoyed pints in a pub indiscernible from those visited the evening prior, Killian's wondered if he'd left enough with the carriage to ensure the safety of the couple he'd robbed. They'd had knights escorting them, so that spoke of some wealth and standing. He'd assuaged his guilt with another pint and stood to toast his crew.

"To the most clever, dastardly band of pirates to ever set sail-," he shared a laugh at his slip up with Smee before continuing, "stride, on the open road!"

"To Captain Hook!" Smee responded, clinking his drink with Hook's. They took a sip in a companionable moment of quiet. As Hook turned, Smee stopped him, "Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. The boys and I chipped in and got you something."

Hook followed Smee's fingers toward a brunette woman walking toward him, seductive smile at her lips. He forced a smile as he escorted her out, planning on how on to buy off her silence and where he'd spend the rest of the night. It was too early to go to the room he'd let - quiet nights welcomed thoughts veering dangerously close to heartbreaking - but he couldn't return to the pub once he'd dismiss this mistress.

Once she'd left, pleased with her heavier purse, Killian planned to walk the docks. Maybe the Jolly had made an appearance after all. A sharp pain burst on the back of his head and he was on the ground with a knife at his throat. One of his victims must have recognised him an planned to exact his revenge.

"Move and I'll slit your throat!" The command was issued by a feminine voice.

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Camp Wanamaker (Ch 5/10)

July 15, 2023

Notes - The week from the 23rd-29th is going to be the most insane week of the summer for me and, while I might struggle with finding the time to write at first, I know it's going to be fun! I had a lot of fun with this chapter and I'm sure you could probably tell why lmao. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

Chapter 5 - The Sun Always Shines on TV

Silence filled the air surrounding Camp Wanamaker. It wasn’t exactly unusual for there to be silence within the grounds while campers filled every building, but after the final camper left the grounds, the silence felt overwhelming. The first two-week session of camp had come to a close Saturday afternoon, sending every camper home for a week while the staff kept their posts until the end of the summer. With all campers gone for the week, the camp felt empty and quiet; almost as though all of the life had been sucked out of it. 

In a way, it had. Regardless of how chaotic camp got and how hard it was to keep everyone in check, the campers kept things lively at Camp Wanamaker. The first staff week before the campers came around was spent running around, making sure everything was set up, and figuring out where the workers felt best suited. Having an empty camp for the first time in two weeks was surreal.

Though the workers technically had the week off, that didn’t mean they could do whatever they pleased, whenever they pleased. During their camper-free week, the staff would work on cleaning the area, getting things ready for the next session of campers, and making sure to rid the camp of any graffiti left behind by the first batch of campers. As long as they got everything finished quickly, the workers would be given free rein on the grounds - the freedom to wander the area and spend time with the friends they had made. Until they had everything finished, however, they would need to spend their days prepping, cleaning, and searching every inch of the spaces they were in charge of for any forgotten items, discarded trash, or minuscule markings that had been left behind by the first session’s campers.

Hearts with initials carved into them were either erased with cleaner or buffed out of the wood with sandpaper, bunks with campers’ names carved into the wooden frames were sanded to perfection, and shoddily carved names stating someone was there were etched away. The pool would be deep-cleaned, shocked, and re-chlorinated. The food in the kitchen would be restocked and the snacks in the pool shack would be distributed to the workers before being filled back to the brim once more. Everyone would be busy trying to make sure everything was ready to go for the second of the three sessions Camp Wanamaker hosted.

None of the workers really felt up to cleaning out the entire camp for the week, however, at the final meal on Saturday, it was announced that a three-day heatwave was set to brush over the small town starting the next morning. The sweltering, ninety-degree weather would engulf the area in thick humidity accompanied by a lack of wind to cool off, so the general consensus passed around the dinner tables was to finish everything quickly and be given the rest of the week off. Some staff members got to work after finishing their meals, heading to their typical workspaces to clean and prepare for the week. Though some had it easy and only had a few bunks to clean, they made it obvious that they would be willing to assist in any way possible if someone needed assistance finishing their work.

By the time the wake-up call echoed through the camp on Sunday morning, it was already seventy-two degrees outside and nobody felt like moving from the cool air conditioning that pulsed throughout every cabin. One of those cabins, in particular, held a group that had yet to move from the comfort of their air-conditioned living space to meet up with their usual crew and head to the mess hall. Though a pair of staff members waited for them to emerge from their secluded cabin, nobody opened the door to the lodge. Having had enough of standing in the heat where the sand of the beach met the typical, grassy trails of the camp, waiting for their friends to arrive, Erica sighed and leaned against the bark of a tree, hoping to keep somewhat cool. Though her foot tapped impatiently against the ground, it wasn’t until Hayley and Charlie passed by, giving them matching smiles and chirpy greetings, that Erica huffed, grabbed her girlfriend by the wrist, and began pulling her toward the beach.

“Are you sure they’re even up?” Jade asked, trailing behind her girlfriend.

“There’s no way Vivien isn’t,” Erica replied. “She’s always up at the ass crack of dawn anyway.”

Sighing as Erica ran up the front steps of the Lakeside Lodge, Jade stood back, watching Erica thump on the door with the side of her fist. “She might be, but the others-”

“Are always up by now,” Erica cut off. Raising her voice, she thumped on the door again, “I know y’all are in there!”

Rolling her eyes at Erica’s impatience, Jade said, “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“‘Cause I write all of your songs,” Erica stated, smiling back at the emerald-haired girl. 

“Yeah, that has to be the reason,” Jade chuckled, leaning against one of the railings that wrapped around the front steps. “Why else would I put up with your shit?”

As the door opened, Riven mused, “We’ve all been wondering that since the two of you got together.”

Instead of a snappy comeback, Erica huffed, “There you are. Are you guys coming to breakfast or not?”

“We made breakfast here,” Riven replied, stepping aside to let the girls inside.

“How did you manage that?” Jade asked as she followed Erica inside.

 “Viv and the boys took some food back from the kitchens last night,” Riven explained. “Mick and Butch made up some of it and the rest of us have been lying on the floor all morning, playing cards.”

Looking around the living area of the lodge, it was easy to see how the heat was affecting everyone. Miles was passed out on the couch in a pair of shorts with no shirt while Carrie sat on the floor in front of him, her hair was as far from her neck as she could get it as she fanned herself with the cards she had been dealt. Bentley, Vivien, and Royce were sitting on the floor in their bathing suits, the younger two having forced Royce to settle directly in front of the fan in order to keep the muggy air from invading his lungs. Mick and Butchy seemed to be the only ones fairly unaffected by the growing heat as they lounged about in T-shirts and jean shorts, sipping lemonade the kids had brought from the mess hall the night before.

Erica smirked, “You all look like shit.”

“Did you expect us to look like supermodels in this heat?” Vivien fired, obviously not thrilled with the sudden rise in temperature. “We plan on staying inside where it’s cool all day.”

“You guys are going to have to face the heat anyway when it comes time to clean,” Erica shrugged.

“Nope,” Bentley beamed as he placed down a plus-two card, “We got everything done last night.”

“The library and art barn were practically clean anyway,” Royce stated as he jumped in and placed a matching green card on top of Bentley’s.

“Miles and I clean the music hall at the end of the day,” Vivien added as she picked up four cards from the extra deck, “so it was already clean.”

Carrie was next to say, “Riven and I helped put everything in the playhouse away.”

“The lifeguards cleaned the beach and the pool shed yesterday,” Mick piped up.

“And all I had to do was wipe down the equipment and mop the floors in the fitness center,” Butchy finished. “All in all, we’re done for the week.”

“Lucky bitches,” Erica huffed as she dropped onto a couch cushion.

Ignoring the blue-haired girl’s remark, Jade perched herself on the armrest next to her girlfriend and asked, “Why didn’t you guys go for a swim in the lake to stay cool?”

“We tried,” Carrie claimed, placing one of her Uno cards on the stack in the center of the misshapen circle they had formed. “It didn’t end well.”

Their time on the beach hadn’t lasted long. Despite trying to get out to the water before the heat had gotten too bad, the humidity had already begun to fill the air. They had barely gotten to the waterline when Royce had to turn back because of the choking thickness in the air. Vivien had been quick to follow as the sand burned the bottoms of her feet. Bentley was the only one of the young trio who managed to wade into the water, getting in a few minutes of water time before Butchy noticed he was already beginning to turn colors and forced him to go back to the lodge. While the water had been comforting, the air conditioning that filled the lodge was more inviting.

After sending her grandmother a message about the heat being too much for her boyfriend and letting the woman know that they had already gotten their work done for the week, Vivien told everyone that Dawn had dismissed them, telling them to stay inside unless they felt well enough to make the journey up to the mess hall for food. Since they had nothing better to do, they rested in the living room in the coolest clothing they had brought to camp and brought out the first deck of cards they could find. They hadn’t been at it for long, but if the stack of cards in the center of the circle was anything to go by, the card game had been going at a fairly fast pace.

Jade was the first to move, taking Erica’s hand in hers as she decided, “Alright, well, we had better get up to the mess hall before work.”

As Jade tugged her toward the door, Erica let out a whine of frustration, “Why do we have to work out just to get food.”

Snickering at the pair, Mick spoke, “You do realize you could just take some of what’s still in the kitchen if you don’t feel like walking.”

Erica stalled, attempting to wrench her girlfriend’s hand from her wrist as Jade said, “Well, we wouldn’t want to intrude-”

“Speak for yourself!” Erica cut in, pulling herself free and taking off for the kitchen.

Jade reached out, ready to stop the blue-haired fiend, yet Erica dodged her grasp and Jade sighed as her arms fell by her side. Amused by the show, Butchy smiled and gently told the teen, “You won’t intrude. Go get some food.”

Taking in a breath, Jade thanked him before making her way to the kitchen, following the clanging sound of Erica fumbling for a plate. As soon as Jade had entered the small kitchen, Vivien pulled her phone out to text her grandmother about the additions to their group and Mick chuckled, “Jade is still as awkward as the day Erica dragged her into auditioning for the band.”

A nudge to Mick’s side gained Butchy her attention as he smiled down at her, “Reminds me of someone else I know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Butchy nodded. “Remember the first day you came over for one of Lela’s sleepovers and could barely look me in the eyes?”

“I was in a strange town and you were practically a perfect stranger,” Mick retorted. “I had every right to be awkward.”

“What’s your excuse now?” Butchy questioned, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Mick let out a scoff of indignation, turning to fully face her husband as she asked, “Since when am I awkward?”

Instead of letting Butchy reply, Vivien chimed in, “Since when are you not?”

As the others let out murmurs of agreement, Mick turned to face the rest of the room and argued, “I’m not!”

Rolling over slightly to catch a glimpse of the brunette, Miles smirked tiredly as he muttered, “Yeah, you are.”

With the speed and accuracy of a divine archer, Mick grabbed a pillow from the couch and whipped it in Miles’ direction, smacking him in the face as she ordered, “Shut up and go back to sleep.”

Pushing himself to sit up as he tossed the pillow back toward Mick, Miles chuckled, “Just for that, I’m going to stay awake out of spite.”

“Dick,” Mick huffed.

“Just for you,” Miles grinned, his eyes still shining with exhaustion as he settled in the free corner of the couch.

Mick rolled her eyes, “I hate you, Miley Cyrus.”

Miles smiled as the brunette matched his amused smirk, “Yeah, yeah, I love you too, Mickey Mouse.”

The unbearable heat appeared to have subsided at least a little by the time Monday morning rolled around. While air conditioners around the campground roared as high as they could go, the mess hall was kept at a somewhat mild seventy degrees. Appearance that morning was somewhat mandatory and only those who had medical reasons not to show up, had the option to stay within the cooler, more temperate quarters of their cabins. If the murmurs flowing throughout the staff on the way to the mess hall were anything to go by, something important was going to be announced.

Despite the thick humidity, Royce argued with Miles for half an hour about going up to the mess hall to hear the announcement for himself. Eventually, after an offer from Riven to carry the seventeen-year-old up to the mess hall, Miles relented, allowing him to make the trek to the dining area. Ever the worrier, Miles still kept an eye on his brother, watching for any sign the humidity was affecting him, but he relaxed once they reached the mess hall and forced Royce to sit at the first available table.

It didn’t take long for George and Dawn to make their way to the small stage at the far side of the room and, once everyone was seated and had settled down, George cleared his throat and began, “You’re probably wondering why we’ve asked you all here.” Clustered mutters of confirmation rumbled through the hall and George smiled. “Well, after some ideas were passed around last week, we have decided that, for the second week of the next session, we’re going to be putting on a bit of a murder mystery party for the campers and counselors alike.”

One of the workers in charge of the dance studio stood from his seat and asked, “What about Color Wars?”

“We still plan on doing Color Wars,” Dawn replied with a smile. “That will be the first week. This murder mystery deal will happen during mealtimes so that it doesn’t interfere with regular camp activities.”

“It’s all voluntary,” George declared. “We just want some of you to have the chance to make up characters and figure out a bit of a plot.”

“If you don’t want to participate in acting,” Dawn began, looking around the room, “you’ll need to keep the storyline and what actually happened a secret from all of the campers. I don’t care if you’re related to them or not. If you know anything about the program, you have to keep your mouth shut.”

George nodded, “The campers will be given papers when they get their trays at each meal and will have to write down what they think the answer to the question of each performance was. At the dinner shows, the answer will be revealed.”

“So,” a counselor began, “it’s basically a game of Clue, but as a show.”

“In a way, but it will be camp-themed,” Dawn confirmed. “The staff will put on a short show for each meal and it will get more and more detailed as time goes by. By Friday night, the true killer will be revealed along with where they did it and with what weapon.”

“Now, with that being said, there will be a sign-up sheet by the door for those of you who are interested and able to work it out.” George looked around the room before stating, “We’ll have a meeting here after lunch tomorrow with those who have signed up. Remember, though, if you’re in charge of a cabin or in the kitchen during meal times, I’m afraid you’ll have to sit this out and just be a viewer.”

“We need workers who aren’t busy during those times,” Dawn agreed. “Lifeguards, staff from the library, music hall, or playhouse. If you aren’t in charge of anything in the kitchen or a cabin of campers, you’re free to sign up. As we said, it’s voluntary. We only need a handful of actors - think maybe ten to fifteen. You’ll have to come up with your characters and their motivations on your own.”

After glancing over at the staff that had, ironically, gathered at the tables they usually were stationed at for meals, George smiled and asked, “Any questions?” As they had gone over almost everything already, the room was silent. George nodded, “Alright, you’re dismissed. Have a good day, everyone, and try to stay out of the heat if you can.”

While some of the workers rose from their spots to head off to their spots for the day, others stayed at their tables to talk things over with their friends. Vivien turned toward Carrie with a brilliant smile and asked, “You’re doing it, aren’t you?”

Carrie nodded, her curls bouncing in a golden halo as the light pouring in from the window behind her ignited her curls. “Are you?”

“Of course, she is,” a male voice answered as Vivien opened her mouth to reply. Turning, Vivien beamed up at Noah as he approached their table. With a smirk, Noah shoved Vivien’s head from behind and chuckled, “I can't remember her ever not participating in camp programs.”

As Vivien rolled her eyes, Royce took in a breath and met the boy’s gaze as he asked, “I thought you hadn’t been to camp before?”

“He hasn’t,” Vivien agreed, “but I used to tell him every little thing I did throughout my time at camp.”

“Plays and concerts, usually,” Noah claimed. “I always liked getting letters or calls from Viv while she was at camp. It was like living vicariously through her.”

“Yeah,” Vivien chuckled. “Nothing beats our performance of Frozen from way back, though.”

“Oh, don’t remind me!” Noah lamented.

Forcing a smile onto her face, Carrie asked, “What happened?”

Without giving Noah a chance to speak, Vivien said, “I forced him to dress up as Anna and sing with me because the girl who was supposed to work with me got sick the day before.”

“I can still feel those awful wig pins stabbing my head,” Noah complained, running a hand through his hair with a sigh.

Rising from her seat, Vivien smacked her friend and chuckled, “Oh, let it go, you big baby. I put those in with such precision and grace, you couldn’t even feel them.”

“I could when you ripped the wig off afterward!” Noah laughed. “It’s a wonder you didn’t draw blood.”

Vivien rolled her eyes as she began walking toward where her grandparents had left the sign-up sheet, “You are such a drama queen.”

As Noah trailed after Vivien, the two of them recalling their escapades from over the years, Royce let out a small chuckle and turned back toward the table. “Well, we won’t be seeing much of them for the next week.”

“What do you mean?” Butchy asked.

“They’ll be working on the murder mystery thing all week,” Royce shrugged. “We won’t see them around much.”

“Maybe not,” Carrie began, a shimmer of mischief in her eyes, “but, luckily for you, you’ve got someone on the inside.”

Riven smirked, finding Royce’s gaze as he added, “Two someones.” 

“Make it four,” Erica piped up from next to Riven.

“Four?” Jade questioned, eyeing her girlfriend from across the table. “You and I both know I can’t act to save my life.”

Erica sighed, “Alright, make it three and a half.” At her girlfriend's confused look, she added, “You can help with my storyline or some shit, I don’t know.”

“Anyway,” Carrie began, her sapphire gaze finding Royce’s tawny eyes. “You’ve got us to keep an eye on them. He won’t be getting close to her with us around.”

Royce shrugged, “I’m not really worried about it all that much.”

“But you are worried,” Miles stated. “It’s natural.”

Letting out a long sigh, Royce admitted, “I just figured we’d have the week to spend together. I’m not overly worried about Noah; I know that they’re just friends.”

“Regardless of whether you’re worried or not,” Carrie began, “you’ve got us on the inside, keeping things right during meetings.”

“Yeah,” Riven agreed. “I can keep Noah busy while the girls help Vivien with anything she needs.”

“Or we can handle Noah,” Erica claimed, placing her right fist into her left hand and popping her knuckles with an almost menacing grin.”

“No hospital visits,” Mick piped in, reaching over and placing a hand on Erica’s before gently pushing the girl’s hands down to the table.

“Suck all the fun out of it, why don’t you,” Erica sighed, smirking as she pushed herself up from the table. 

“I thought you liked Noah?” Jade wondered, getting up from the table and following Erica toward the sign-up sheet.

Erica shrugged as she picked up the pen from the stand, “I have nothing against him, but Royce and Vivien are adorable together and I will do everything in my power to keep that going.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Jade sighed, leaning against the wall. “Vivien is loyal to a fault.”

“That may be,” Erica began, “but I don’t think anyone at that table is willing to risk it.”

For the residents of the Lakeside Lodge and Moon House, the rest of Monday was spent in the living area of the lodge, coming up with characters to play for the murder mystery week. The heat had kept practically everyone inside for the remainder of the day, giving them ample time to think up their characters’ backgrounds and names. After lunch, a light rain began, ridding some of the thickness from the air. To everyone’s dismay, however, it didn’t last long and, by the end of dinner, the sky was clear once again.

Though the humidity was practically nonexistent Tuesday, heat still pulsed through the camp, making being outside bearable, but still miserable. Carrie took her time going for a swim that morning, relaxing in the cool water as the others in the water swam about, splashing each other with fervor. She knew she wouldn’t have much time in the water with everyone else once Vivien’s group showed up. 

At some point during the afternoon the day before, Vivien had sent a group message to a few people she knew had signed up for the murder mystery group, asking them if they wanted to meet up before the lunch meeting to discuss all that they had created. Once they showed up, Carrie knew she would have to wait until Wednesday to be back in the water. While they were coming up with ideas the night before, Carrie quickly learned that Vivien is a detail-oriented girl, overthinking everything to the smallest detail. Even the things she knew nobody else would have thought about, Vivien had something for. 

All too soon, Carrie heard Vivien call out to someone on the shore before pushing her way through the water. Sighing, the blonde turned toward the sand and found a group on the shoreline, waving as they made their way onto the pier. Spotting Noah among the fray, Carrie rolled her eyes, glad her oversized sunglasses covered the action as she forced a smile onto her face. She would just have to put up with the boy's presence for the time being.

The water sloshed as a certain, auburn-haired male joined the blonde with a sigh, “So the fun begins.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Carrie asked with a grin.

“In all honesty, it should be fun,” Riven claimed. “It’s sort of like DnD.”

Carrie’s eyebrow lifted as she pushed her sunglasses atop her head and turned her gaze toward Riven. “What’s that?”

“Dungeons and Dragons,” Riven clarified. “It’s a tabletop game Viv, Erica, Jade, and I play after band practice with some of the people from our school.” The blonde’s expression remained confused and Riven beamed as he chuckled, “I’ll show you later.”

“Is it any fun?” Carrie asked. 

Riven beamed, nodding as he stated, “Oh yeah! You come up with a character and go on an adventure with your friends in a fantasy world, fighting monsters and overcoming challenges as a team.”

Carrie smiled; it did sound like something she could see Vivien being interested in. “Sounds interesting.”

“I’m sure you’d love it too,” Riven said, swimming backward toward the pier so that he could continue their conversation, “what with being an actress and all. It’s just like throwing yourself into a new role and having fun with friends.”

Riven practically glowed as he rambled about his favorite game, watching Carrie’s expression as he spieled off about his character - a half-elf paladin sworn to protect the innocent. Not having the heart to appear disinterested in Riven’s game, Carrie nodded, “I’m sure I’d like it, then. You’ll have to show me more sometime.”

“Yeah,” the hazel-eyed boy nodded, “the girls and I were going to do a session tomorrow anyway, so maybe you could sit in on that for a while.”

Trapped with no way of escape, Carrie plastered a smile on her face and nodded, “I just might have to.”

Riven chuckled, turning toward the pier and pulling himself from the water. Once he was done shaking his hair out like a dog, Riven knelt on the edge of the pier and extended a hand out to Carrie as he asked, “Ready to get this party started?”

Sighing, Carrie latched onto the outstretched hand and said, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Allowing the auburn-haired boy to pull her from the lake, Carrie thanked him and grabbed her towel from the end of the pier, wrapping it securely around her shoulders. Once they reached the end of the pier where the wood met the sand, Carrie pulled her sunglasses off, put the earpiece of one side between her teeth, and tucked her hair up in a clip one of the girls in the playhouse had given her before putting her sunglasses atop her head.

Following the others toward the lodge, Carrie took in a deep breath. She could only hope Noah wouldn’t try anything with Vivien. Though she knew Vivien was loyal to Royce, she had no insight into Noah. For all Carrie knew, he could be staying close just to get her attention. As she followed the group to the picnic tables off to the side of the lodge, Carrie kept a watchful eye on the golden-haired boy, making sure he kept himself a good distance from Vivien. Vivien’s seat at the table was quickly neighbored by Riven and Erica as Carrie sat across from the brunette. 

From what Carrie could tell, Noah didn’t look upset with having to sit beside a girl named Riley, one of the girls who typically lingered in the dance studio. If anything, he looked happy to sit beside the blonde and the two of them fell into a conversation with ease. Glancing across the table to Vivien, Carrie watched as the young brunette nudged Riven and nodded her head toward the pair before mockingly making a kissy face toward them when the young blonde wasn’t looking. Noah rolled his eyes at Vivien’s expression before giving her a look that pleaded for her to keep her mouth shut. In return, Vivien smirked and turned her gaze back toward the others at the table, asking if anyone had come up with any ideas since they had signed up the day before.

As some of the others around the table dished out their ideas, Carrie took in a deep breath and grinned. Maybe it wouldn’t be difficult to deal with Noah after all.

Tuesday brought torrential downpours through the area, turning dirt trails into mud and forcing everyone to stay indoors as much as possible. To Carrie’s dismay, this gave Riven and his bandmates a full day with nothing to do. Well, until they dragged Carrie to the dining room and began setting up for what Erica called an “epic rain day game day.” It didn’t take them long to set up things and, before Carrie knew it, Riven had brought out a bag of glittering dice, something that looked like an old board game one of them had painted by hand, and enough graph paper that Carrie wondered if one of them had raided a math classroom before summer vacation. Then, with practiced ease, they each pulled out a binder full of papers and some tiny figurines they laid out on the table in the dining area before sitting down around the table.

Slowly easing herself into the chair beside Vivien, Carrie was taken aback as Erica tossed a bag filled with metallic figurines in front of her. “Pick your poison, blondie,” the blue-haired girl said with a grin.

Chuckling nervously, Carrie shook her head, “Riven invited me to watch, I don’t want to join your game halfway through.”

“You won’t be,” Jade said. “We’re starting a mini-campaign for the week. You’d be starting with us.”

“If you want to, that is,” Vivien added. “You don’t have to play if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, she does,” Erica said, dodging Vivien’s kick under the table. “I want to see how good of an actress she is.”

“We don’t pressure people to join our campaigns,” Vivien argued.

“Since when?” Jade asked rhetorically. “That’s how Erica got me into it.”

“And you love it,” Erica claimed.

“Anyway,” Riven cut in, gaining the attention of the four women before smiling at Carrie. “The point is, you don’t have to play if you don’t want to, but if you’d like to try it out, we’d love to have you. Even if you don’t care for it and we only have you for one meeting, it would still be fun all the same.”

“Are you sure?” Carrie asked. “I’d have no clue what to do.”

“That’s why we’re playing an easy campaign,” Vivien proclaimed with a smile. “And the reason why you’re sitting with me.”

“Viv’s the second-best player at this table,” Jade commented.

“Riven takes first place as the dungeon master,” Vivien added. “He’s a level forty-three, half-elf paladin who can detect evil a mile away.”

“And she is a level thirty-six sorcerer who harnesses four of the six psionic abilities available,” Riven said.

“I take it that’s a good thing,” Carrie slowly said.

“It’s great,” Erica nodded. “The point is, you’re in good hands. Besides, you’re not far from Jade when it comes to your level.”

Jade nodded, smiling at the blonde, “I started playing with them a couple of months back, but it was hard to get the time for game nights, so I’m only a level three.”

“We level up when big events happen in the game or after a good session,” Riven stated. “Right now, you’d be a level one, but at the end of this session, you could be up to a level five if you play your cards right.”

“We got rid of XP altogether so that we could have more experience-based games and less combat,” Vivien explained. “Each of your abilities is determined by a roll of the dice, but everything else is free for you to choose.”

Vivien slid her folder of information between herself and Carrie, showing the blonde the character sheet she had tucked in the front pocket. In a large square that took up most of the page, a drawing that vaguely resembled Vivien smiled up at them. Her character was floating on the page, draped in rich shades of violet, and holding a glowing, crystal staff in one hand while the other was held out in front of her. Her character’s hair was braided in a crown around her head and little bottles of colorful liquid were hung from a belt around her hips. Though the character looked fierce, there was a softness about her that made her look approachable. Finally, Carrie spotted the statistics on the side - 7 for strength, 21 for dexterity, 12 for constitution, 27 for intelligence, 19 for wisdom, and 9 for charisma.

“So, the higher the number, the better?” Carrie surmised.

“Yep,” Vivien chirped.

Clearing her throat, Erica reached into her folder and took out a piece of paper before placing it on the table face down and sliding it toward Carrie. “When Riven said you might join us, I got a bit carried away and made you a sheet. Most of it is blank so you can fill it out, but I drew you up a character last night. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want it, obviously, but I’ve drawn one for everyone here, so…”

As Erica’s voice faded out, Carrie picked up the paper and flipped it over, revealing a detailed drawing of herself. Her curls flowed in a golden shimmer, a crown of sorts fixed to her forehead. Though her eyes were silver in color, a faint hint of blue could be spotted in them, perhaps a reflection of the cerulean gown she wore. There was an instrument of some sort in the character’s hands and Carrie noticed the pointed ears on the drawing not long after.

As she examined the artwork, she muttered, “I’m an elf?”

“A high-elf,” Erica claimed. “They’re practically royalty. I also drew you as a bard, but you can change that if you want.”

“What does a bard do?” the blonde asked.

“They’re musicians whose performances can change the tide of battle,” Riven said with a grin. “Singing, playing music, and performing are their strong suits. They can charm people with their singing, stall battles by playing music, and can use their performance skills to trick enemies. They’re pretty powerful if you think about it.”

Carrie let out a breath of a laugh as she looked up from the paper, “That sounds like me.”

“I tried to make it as much like you as possible,” Erica stated, distracting herself by picking at her nails. “I know that’s what I did when I first started playing. Made things a hell of a lot easier.”

Smiling at the girl across the table, Carrie’s gaze flickered back to the paper before her. It was evident that Erica had spent quite some time working on the drawing. The blue-haired girl had put a lot of time and thought into the gift and it was clear as day. The artwork resembled Carrie and, if she wanted to, she could have easily used the drawing as inspiration for a costume of some sort. Erica had worked hard on the drawing to make Carrie feel welcomed by the group more than she already did. Even though the blonde actress had come into the meeting with no intention of playing, it would be nearly impossible for her to say no to it now. 

As though he had been reading her mind, Riven asked, “So, Carrie, do you feel up to playing one round with us? And, please, don’t feel obligated to say you will even if you don’t want to. If you want, you can just sit and observe or you can go back to the other room with everyone else; that’s fine too.”

Carrie thought about the question for a while, glancing around at the other players and the mess they had practically tossed onto the table before them. The tiny metal figurines scattered around the table, the folder filled with information they had gained over their time playing together, the character sheets full of information Carrie had no idea about - it all felt so overwhelming. For a moment, she felt like waving her little white flag, asking them to go on without her. However, Carrie was never one to back down from a challenge. 

Looking back over at Riven, Carrie smiled, “I’m in.”

Unable to ignore the excitement that radiated through the small room, Carrie beamed as Vivien grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into an awkward side hug, welcoming her to their little group. Glancing down at the sheet of paper before her as Riven handed her a set of dice to use to figure out her character’s statistics, Carrie smiled; it was just another role to play, after all. How hard could it possibly be?

Carrie spent a few hours with the group of four, asking them a million questions and figuring out how to play her character as well as they all did, but as the rain slowed and the pattering against the window sounded less like bullets and more like popcorn bounding off of the air conditioning units, the session came to an end and they went their separate ways. Erica and Jade congratulated the blonde on a game well played before they left, asking her if she would want to join them for the next round. It was easy for Carrie to agree as she’d had fun with them, but it wasn’t until Vivien and Riven told the others about the fun they’d had that she realized how nice it felt to be a part of their little group. 

From the surprise in Mick’s voice, it wasn’t often that the group of four played with others or invited new players to their sessions, but Carrie had felt welcomed in as though she was just another person added to some large group. Up until the pair retired to bed, Carrie spent the evening talking with Riven and Vivien, allowing them to delve into some of their ideas for the upcoming session Riven was plotting. Although Carrie was still new to their characters and the game as a whole, she enjoyed watching their faces light up with every new idea.

The next morning, Carrie was surprised to find that Riven and Vivien were still gleefully explaining all that had happened during their session to anyone who would listen. Charlie and Hayley seemed particularly interested as they had, no doubt, heard many of the pair’s endless ramblings about prior sessions. Spotting Carrie from her spot next to Hayley, Charlie smiled, lifting the can of her energy drink and sending the blonde a wink before taking a sip. Nodding in return to the pink-haired woman, Carrie smiled and made her way to the other room to grab herself a drink before the call for breakfast could ring out through the camp.

Rounding the corner into the room, Carrie wasn’t too surprised to find a certain, curly-haired boy leaning against the counter with a drink in one hand and a set of white pills in the other. Raising a brow, she asked, “Are you alright?”

“Does it look like I am?” he snapped, his gaze sharp. Carrie tried to brush off the comment as she reached into the refrigerator for a drink, but Royce sighed, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she brushed off, hoping the roll of her eyes went unnoticed as she closed the fridge and moved to grab a glass from the cupboard.

Royce watched as Carrie poured herself some juice, taking a deep breath before admitting, “My head feels like it’s about to split open.”

Grateful for a mild reprieve from the aggression Royce usually harbored toward her, Carrie lowered her voice and asked, “Any idea what’s causing it?”

The answer didn’t come quickly and, for a moment, Carrie figured he would shrug her off and go about his day, ignoring her as he sometimes did. Instead, he took in a deep breath and nodded toward the other room, “I was up until one with Viv, listening to her talk about the Dungeons and Dragons thing. I didn’t get much sleep.”

“Why don’t you take today off to rest?” Carrie offered. “It’s not like we have much to do today.”

Royce slowly shook his head as he swallowed the pills with some juice, “Viv is having the murder mystery gang over to figure out plot points. I’m supposed to help her.”

“I’m sure everyone would understand.”

“I can’t let her down.”

Carrie scoffed a laugh, “You wouldn’t be letting her down.”

“How would you know?” Royce asked, the faintest snip in his voice.

“Because she adores you no matter what,” Carrie smiled. “If anything, I think she would be more upset if you fought through the torture just to help her when you could have been resting.”

Hesitantly, Royce asked, “You think so?”

“I do,” Carrie said with a nod. “You should talk to her about it. I’m sure that, if she needs help, she would have no problem roping Miles or Bentley into it in your stead.”

Despite himself, Royce let out a snort of laughter. “She has them wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”

“They’re not the only ones,” Carrie smiled. “Now, why don’t you go tell Viv that you’re going to rest for a while and, if you’re not feeling up to it when the time comes, you can always ask her if she’d mind replacing you.”

For a while, Royce seemed to contemplate the idea as Carrie sipped at her drink. It wasn’t a bad idea and, if need be, he knew Vivien would have little, if any, difficulty asking his brothers to help with whatever she needed. Taking in a slow, deep breath and letting it out, Royce admitted, “I don’t say this often - and don’t expect me to say it more than I have to - but that actually sounded like a pretty good idea.”

Chuckling mostly to herself as she lowered her glass to the countertop, Carrie smiled at the boy, “I do seem to have those once in a while.”

After giving his cup a quick rinse in the sink, Royce took off for the other room. Halfway down the hallway, he stopped, sighed, and turned back, heading back into the room just enough for the movement to have caught Carrie’s attention. Clearing his throat somewhat awkwardly, Royce attempted a small smile at the blonde before allowing himself to say, “Thanks, Carrie.”

Hoping she didn’t appear nearly as taken aback by the comment as she felt, Carrie raised her glass toward the boy ever so slightly and said, “Anytime, Royce.”

Giving a nod that appeared more for himself than for Carrie, Royce turned on his heel and headed back toward the main area of the lodge, leaving a slightly bewildered blonde standing by the refrigerator. Royce gave a quick greeting to Riven as he passed him in the hall, not noticing the confused look on the older boy’s face as Riven slowly headed toward the small, kitchenette-style room. Finding Carrie standing in the room alone, Riven asked, “What was that about?”

Shrugging as she took another sip of her drink, Carrie said, “I told Royce to go rest.”

“And you didn’t end up with a knife to the chest?” Riven asked theatrically, placing a hand on his chest as he gave a gasp of shock.

“Yeah, I know, right,” Carrie chuckled. “I’m surprised I made it out alive.”

Riven snickered, “I think we all are.”

Despite the cooler temperatures, the heat of summer was still very prominent as the small group of actors gathered in the mess hall. Throughout the week, they found the time to work on their characters as a group and figure out a basic plot to follow. Now that some of the others had finished their duties around camp, they were able to gather in the mess hall to practice a few segments of their performances. The first few plotlines were simple - a lead-up to the death of Jade’s character, Annie Boddy. Once her character had died, the real fun could begin.

Jade was more than willing to play the dead body as that meant she had very few lines to screw up. However, after lounging about on the floor for a while, she was called away by one of the lifeguards who needed a hand rolling the pool lane dividers out. Though Jade argued with the boy for a while that he could easily get someone else to help, Charlie reassured the girl that she could easily return afterward and that they would still be working on things by the time she returned.

The group took a brief intermission between days to figure out where everyone would be stationed and how to make things interesting for the campers and it was during this break that a few of the staff members came in to begin making lunch in the kitchen. Though Royce had been selected for kitchen duty, he wasn’t too upset by the idea of being able to listen in to fleeting segments of the murder mystery program. He watched from the kitchen as the group sat around the tables to talk, discussing what would happen to which character. Then, just as he was getting invested in their made-up storyline, one of the other kitchen staff members, Carlos, reached up and dragged the rolling metal gate down, telling Royce to focus before returning to the grill to keep track of the chicken. Royce sighed as he returned to his job, hoping that, sooner or later, he would have a chance to sneak back into the mess hall for some reason or another.

Once the group started the next day’s plot, Vivien took Jade’s place with ease, sitting on the floor and reciting her lines as though she was still wandering the room with the others. Her character, Lavender Roberts, was an accomplice to the murder, but was meant to act as innocently as possible. After workshopping the character with Carrie far later into the night than she would have liked, Vivien was exhausted. Yawns interrupted her character’s lines and, as they continued reading through the next day, Vivien laid back on the floor and set her papers aside, confident that she knew her lines well enough not to need them. 

As her eyes continued to drift shut, Noah took a seat nearby, using his position to lightly kick the brunette in the shin any time one of her lines was approaching. Though the action kept Vivien mildly aware of her surroundings and her place in the script, the urge to kick Noah in return was strong. The moment Charlie announced another break, Vivien did just as she wanted to, landing a kick to Noah’s thigh as he stood from his seat. In return, Noah grabbed her by the ankle with a laugh and began dragging her throughout the mess hall.

Carrie jumped as a hand grabbed her leg, yet sighed as she looked down to find Vivien looking up at her with a shit-eating grin. “Are you alright?” Carrie asked with a chuckle.

Vivien nodded against the floor, “I’m a mop.”

“Technically,” Noah began, “you’re a broom.”

“But I want to be a mop,” Vivien decided. “My hair is all over the floor like one of those shitty mops from the dollar store.” 

“They have mops at the dollar store?” Carrie asked.

Once again, Vivien nodded, “Yeah, but they hardly work and they look like those Komondor dogs. That’s the kind of mop I want to be.”

“A barely functional, hairy mop?” Noah wondered. Vivien nodded as another yawn took over. Shaking his head, Noah asked, “What kind of mop would I be, then?”

“The kind that’s basically a stick attached to a sponge,” Vivien said without hesitation. “You just push water around and get all gross after a while.”

Dropping his friend’s leg to the floor, Noah scoffed, “Better than you just getting dragged everywhere.”

“Nah,” Vivien shook her head. “That was fun.”

Choosing to play into the conversation, Carrie took a seat nearby and asked the girl on the floor, “What kind of mop am I?”

Vivien looked over at Carrie for a moment before saying, “Probably one of those fancy, microfiber, spinny ones that come with their own buckets and all that.”

Chuckling, Carrie shook her head as one of the other actors approached them. Tapping Noah on the shoulder, Riley asked if he would mind helping her with moving a table and chairs and the pair quickly left. Leaning over, Carrie noticed Vivien watching the pair with an almost knowing smile before looking up at Carrie. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Just something Noah said the other day,” Vivien said with a shake of her head. Pushing herself to sit up a bit, she asked, “What type of mop do you think Royce and Bentley would be?”

Pausing on her way by, Charlie turned toward the pair and asked, “Are you two discussing mops?”

Vivien nodded with a smile as Carrie slowly admitted, “For some reason, yes.”

Charlie’s confusion only seemed to grow as she asked, “Why?”

Carrie grinned as she said, “Noah was dragging Vivien around on the floor and it became the topic of our conversation.”

Letting out a sigh, Charlie shook her head and turned her gaze to her niece, “You should put your hair up if you’re going to do it again.”

“But that defeats the purpose of mop time,” Vivien argued as she grinned up at her aunt.

“Alright,” Charlie sighed with a shake of her head, grinning as she continued on her way, “but don’t start complaining when you find a piece of three-week-old lettuce from the salad bar in your hair.”

Vivien’s grin faltered as she slowly pulled her hair over her shoulders. She ran her fingers through her hair for good measure before asking Carrie for one of the scrunchies she always kept on hand. Once her hair was secured in a lumpy, haphazard bun at the crown of her head, Vivien sighed, “No more mop time.”

Smiling at the girl’s antics, Carrie said, “You know what kind of mop Miles would be?”

Intrigued by the older girl’s sudden interest in the topic, Vivien slowly asked, “What?”

“The kind you have at your house,” Carrie claimed. “The one with the sprayer.”

Vivien's eyes widened as she let out a disbelieving laugh, “You think Miles is a fucking wet jet?!”

“That’s what it’s called?” Vivien nodded wordlessly, grinning astonishedly up at the blonde. Carrie hummed thoughtfully, “Fitting.”

Vivien’s gaze shifted away and her head tipped to the side curiously as she contemplated the blonde’s words. Thinking it over, she glanced up at Carrie from her spot on the floor, her mouth open to ask what Carrie meant. However, as she met Carrie’s mischief-riddled, aquamarine eyes, the pieces of the puzzle fell together and her eyes widened as her mouth hung open in shock. Carrie couldn’t help but feel proud of herself as Vivien let out a squawk of laughter before dissolving into a puddle of giggles and nonsensically strung-together words.

As others from their group looked over, silently wondering what the brunette had found so hysterical, the door to the kitchen swung open and Royce stepped through with a stack of cups in one hand and a pitcher of juice in the other. Stopping in his tracks, Royce watched in bewilderment as his girlfriend laughed on the floor, one of her hands reaching up and offering a high-five to the blonde beside her as her laughter subsided to delirious giggles once more. Eyeing the scene before him, Royce looked to Riven for help as he hesitantly asked, “Do I want to know what’s going on here?”

Riven chuckled as he met Royce’s gaze, offering the curly-haired boy a shrug, “Probably not, no.”

Friday was the first sign of a break for many of the staff members at Camp Wanamaker. After days of cleaning and making everything look practically untouched, many of the workers finally found their schedules open and breathed a sigh of relief as the brilliantly orange sun melted over the horizon Thursday evening. However, as the sun rose in the sky and the heat of the day settled in, the most anybody wanted to do was jump into the nearest body of water.

Carrie had made herself comfortable on the couch long before the humidity got the chance to take over, having gotten up early to take the time to go through her usual, extensive, skin-care routine before doing everything in her power to make sure her hair stayed somewhat manageable despite the humidity. By the time Royce, Vivien, and the half-asleep Bentley made their way downstairs, Carrie was scrolling through TikTok on her phone, trying to find some source of entertainment while everyone else in the lodge was either still sleeping or off doing their own thing. Mick and Butchy had left for the lake, Riven had gone off to start cooking breakfast as it was his day to help out, and Miles was passed out in bed still, leaving Carrie to her own devices until the three teenagers came down from their rooms.

With a grin, Carrie watched as Bentley greeted her with a mumble before yawning, curling up on the loveseat with a pillow, and gliding back toward the verge of sleep. As Carrie watched Bentley with a shake of her head, Vivien took the time to ask her how she was doing before disappearing down the hall to get something to drink. Half expecting Royce to have followed his girlfriend down the hall, Carrie was surprised to see the brunet boy take a seat on the far end of the couch, eyeing her out of the corner of his eyes. 

“Hi,” she offered.

“Hey,” was his response. Royce spared a glance down the hallway before turning back toward Carrie and asking, “How have things been with practice?”

Curious about his sudden interest, Carrie shrugged, “It’s alright. We’ve managed to get through the first two days pretty flawlessly, but we’re going to work more during the week to get everything else ready.”

Royce nodded, running a hand through his hair and leaning forward to look down the hallway once more before leaning closer to Carrie and quietly asking, “Anything else?”

To Royce’s surprise, Carrie shook her head, “His character is practically always away from hers, so they haven’t spent much time together.”

“Really?”

Carrie nodded, setting her phone aside as she replied, “Most of the time, Noah is with some of the people from the dance studio or with Erica. He doesn’t get much time away from them.”

“Was that Erica’s doing?” Royce asked with a small grin.

“No, actually,” Carrie claimed. “When we were working on the benches outside, he said he felt like his character would be better as a background person, so he’s hanging out with the other background people.”

“Hm,” Royce hummed thoughtfully. “He’s not putting in any effort to be close to Viv?”

“Not that I’ve seen,” Carrie shrugged. “Personally, I don’t think you need to worry about him much at all.”

“I’m not worried,” Royce claimed. “Vivien says that they’re just friends, but… it just-”

“It doesn’t feel like Noah sees it that way?” Carrie cut in.

“Exactly,” Royce admitted. “Anytime they’re together, it seems like he’s trying to impress her or get her attention. I know Vivien doesn’t like him like that - everyone made that very clear - I just have to wonder if Noah sees her as a friend or something more.”

Carrie hummed and allowed Royce to think in silence for a while before offering, “If you want, I can always talk to them about it. That way, you’re not getting pushback from either of them, and they’ll just see it as me being concerned.”

Royce was quick to shake his head, his curls bouncing with the movement, “That’s okay, I’ll just try to let it go.”

“If you’re sure,” Carrie sighed. “But if you feel the need for it, let me know. I don’t mind.”

Though Royce seemed to contemplate the thought at least a little, his answer was the same and he shook his head as he said, “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking,” Carrie chuckled. It was moments like those that made it clear as day that Royce and Miles were fairly similar. “I’m offering.”

Royce didn’t have the opportunity to either accept or decline the blonde’s offer as Vivien came back down the hall, juggling three cups of variously-colored liquid. After precariously handing Carrie a blue juice that swirled glitter in the light, the girl rounded the couch, handed Royce a cup of something red, and took a seat beside him before sipping her grape-flavored drink. 

“Nothing beats the heat better than glitter juice,” she decided once she came up for air.

“Is that what’s in this?” Royce asked skeptically, examining the luminous swirls in his drink with scrutiny.

“Mhm,” Vivien hummed. “Aunt Hayley and I got edible glitter at the store when we went shopping with Nonna and Grandpa George.”

Taking a cautious sip of her drink, Carrie was pleasantly surprised to find that the edible glitter was textureless and added nothing to the blue raspberry drink she’d been given. As she thought about Vivien’s words, however, the blonde froze, turning to Vivien with a raised brow. “Didn’t you guys go to that wholesale store in Tilton? The one where everything comes in huge containers that would be enough to feed an army for a decade?”

Vivien beamed as she nodded excitedly, “BJ’s, yeah!”

Glancing down at her drink before meeting the brunette’s glittering eyes, Carrie asked, “Do I want to know how much glitter you got?”

Emerald eyes flickered toward the hallway, but Vivien’s smile remained brilliant as she said, “Let’s just say that we’ll all be having glitter juice for the rest of the summer if we want to put a dent in it.”

With a sigh, Royce took another sip of his drink before saying, “We’ll be brushing glitter from our teeth every day for the next month or so.”

“It’s glitter,” Carrie deadpanned, “I’m sure it will take a lot longer than that.”

“It will be worth it,” Vivien sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “If it comes down to it, I can always pour what’s left of it in the punch at the end-of-summer staff party.”

“I’m not sure your grandparents will like that,” Royce remarked.

“They won’t mind,” Vivien shrugged. “Glitter will be a lot easier to deal with than someone spiking the drinks.”

Realizing they would get nowhere trying to talk the brunette out of her plan, Carrie and Royce shook their heads and returned to their drinks as Vivien took the remote from the table, placed her cup down in its place, and turned on the television mounted on the wall. As she flipped from the local news to a channel that broadcasts nothing but true crime shows and ghost hunting with ease, Carrie watched as Vivien dropped the remote onto the couch between herself and Royce before taking his hand in hers and slouching back into the couch. It wasn’t long before the girl’s free hand fell to Bentley’s head, absentmindedly running her fingers through his golden locks as she watched a retired homicide detective recount a murder he had solved years prior.

Carrie smiled into her cup as she watched the young trio. They seemed so inseparable that she had to wonder just how far they would go for each other. Though Carrie had seen Royce’s protectiveness over Bentley and, in a way, vice versa time and time again, their affinity for the brunette that had weasled her way into their lives was something somewhat new to Carrie. When she’d first met Vivien, they had gotten along so well that she wondered if Royce and Bentley had bothered to try to sway her opinion of her at all. It became evident over dinner one night that same week that she knew all too well how much the boys disliked her and that she simply couldn’t bring herself to care about their opinion on the matter as she kicked them under the table. In a way, she was a bridge between Carrie and the brothers and Carrie couldn’t be more glad for it.

When the girl had spent a few months in their world over what was supposed to be a two-week-long winter break, Carrie had gotten accustomed to the brunette’s energetic, adventurous personality and the ease with which she adjusted to almost anything thrown her way. Watching her and Royce’s relationship evolve from innocent puppy love to what it was now, was something Carrie found herself enjoying almost as though it was a show she had early access to. The bond the girl had grown with not only Royce but also his family in that short time frame, was something Carrie was sure the girl had to be proud of. Sure, they had started out as friends, but as time went on and more things popped up in their way, they maneuvered everything with ease.

When it came to Bentley, there was something familial in the way Vivien treated the boy. Sure, Vivien had siblings around the blond’s age, but Carrie had seen the girl’s protective, sisterly side make an appearance far more often when she was around Bentley than when she was with Abby or Oliver. Carrie was sure Vivien would beat anyone to a pulp if they dared to so much as look at Bentley the wrong way and, if the way Bentley seemed to cling to the girl’s arm to keep her from attacking people had been anything to go by, he knew it too. There were times it had gone the other way and, the one time Carrie was there to see it, she had frozen in place, watching the young blond aggressively vituperate the opposing party whilst silently rooting for him to keep going.

The trio was strong and, although they could function well enough without one of them being present, they were far stronger together than they ever were apart.

As Carrie’s gaze finally drifted from the trio to the television, they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Vivien called for the person to enter and beamed as a boy with golden-brown hair entered the lodge. “Hey, guys,” Noah greeted as he moved into the living area. As the small gathering greeted him in turn, Noah grinned and turned his gaze toward Vivien. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go?” Royce wondered.

Vivien glanced at the watch on her wrist before looking toward her boyfriend and chuckling, “I guess we read for longer than I thought.” Turning toward Noah, she nodded, “Give me a minute to find my bag and we’ll head out.”

“Where are you going?” Carrie asked as Vivien rose from the couch, grabbed her cup from the table, andgulped the rest of it down.

“Vivien promised me she’d take me to see her family when we had the chance,” Noah explained. “I haven’t seen them since I was a kid.”

“Before we see my family, we’re going to the roller rink to see if we can recreate the last photo we took together,” Vivien explained, pulling her backpack purse from the hanger she’d deposited it on and pulling the straps onto her shoulders. “His parents haven’t seen the two of us together since we were little, so we’re going to take tons of pictures for them.”

Royce nodded slowly, allowing Vivien to press a kiss to his cheek on her way out the door. He watched as Vivien and Noah talked on their way away from the lodge before turning his gaze back to Carrie. Though he would be the first to admit he wasn’t fond of the blonde, she could be the one person aside from himself and Bentley to get any information out of Vivien. With a sigh, he admitted, “I think I’m ready to take you up on that offer.”

By the time Vivien and her friend returned to camp, the sun had faded over the horizon and the moon began to glow overhead. After babbling on for a while to the group that had awaited her return in the living room, the brunette retired to her room with a smile on her face and a camera roll full of pictures of her family alongside one of her oldest childhood friends. Apart from Riven and a very small handful of classmates she had grown up with, Vivien knew Noah for the longest time. Her parents had been excited to see him after so much time had passed, Abby and Oliver had taken the time to give him a short tour of the winery before dinner, and Loki the faithful vacuum was grateful to have another plate to steal from. 

Their time at the roller rink had extended far past what they had anticipated as they not only stopped to take pictures in the same party room Noah’s last birthday party in town had been all those years prior, but also took the time to stumble around the rink like a pair of newborn deer attempting to find their footing on a patch of ice. Noah had limped his way to the car while Vivien teased him for his lack of balance. He had shot back with some snide comments of his own that were met with laughter from his friend, but neither of them seemed genuine in their words. Despite the bruises Vivien was sure would form on her knees, hips, and backside in the coming days, she’d had a great day out with her friend and was sure he felt the same.

After changing into a pair of shorts she had stolen from her dad’s closet a few years prior and throwing on a shirt from one of her old summer jobs, Vivien took her hair down from the hastily-made bun she’d thrown it into at the roller rink and sighed as her scalp relaxed. If it hadn’t been for the heat and lack of air conditioning in the roller rink, she would have left her hair in the ponytail she’d worn that morning, but the summer heat always made her hair look like she had poured a bottle of grease on her head before leaving the house and she refused to look like that in photos. She would just have to wash it sooner than she planned to.

As her scalp sang her praises for finally releasing it from its prison, a soft trio of knocks sounded on her door. Without bothering to ask who it was as she sat on the edge of her bed, Vivien raised her voice slightly and called, “Come in.” Vivien looked up as the door opened, smiling as Carrie inched her way into the room and shut the door behind her. “Hey, Carrie!” Vivien chirped.

Carrie gave the girl a smile as she stepped further into the room. “Hey,” she greeted in return. The woman’s gaze took on a more serious gleam as she spoke, “I was wondering if we could talk for a while.”

“Of course,” Vivien beamed. Grabbing her hair brush from the nightstand beside her bed, she chuckled, “I was just getting ready to do my hair, but now that you’re here…”

As Vivien’s voice drifted off, Carrie smirked, “You want me to braid it, don’t you?”

Vivien gave the blonde a hopeful look as she nodded, “If you don’t mind. You and Miles make the best braids.”

Carrie took the brush from Vivien’s hands as she slotted herself into place behind the brunette. “On that, I’d have to agree.”

Vivien let out a breath of a laugh as she allowed her head to fall to its natural resting place, giving Carrie free rein of her hair and the placement of whatever braid - or braids - the older girl chose to make. “So,” the brunette began, “what did you want to talk about?”

The blonde brought the brush through Vivien’s hair and sighed as she confessed, “You and Noah.”

Though Vivien felt a wave of confusion wash over her, she smiled as she asked, “What about us?”

Hoping that she had chosen her words carefully, Carrie asked, “You two are just friends, right?”

Taken aback by the blonde’s question, Vivien raised an eyebrow and said, “Of course. Why?”

Instead of answering, Carrie asked, “Are you sure?”

Turning toward the blonde, Vivien asked, “Why on earth would we be anything else?”

Allowing the brush to fall from Vivien’s hair, Carrie found the girl’s emerald eyes and cautiously said, “You two have been very… close lately.”

Returning her head to its prior position with a soft scoff, Vivien spoke, “Noah and I have known each other since we were five. We’ve been close for years.”

“I understand that,” Carrie stated as she returned to brushing the girl’s hair. “It’s just… he seems to like hanging around you a lot.”

“So does Riven and nobody bats an eye when he does it.”

“I know that.”

“Then why does it bother everyone when Noah does it?”

“Everyone?” Carrie questioned.

Vivien nodded, letting out a huff, “Miles and Butchy pestered me about it a few weeks ago, Bentley was attached to my hip for two days before finally leaving me alone with Noah when he realized nothing was happening, and even Mick tried to pry information from me.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, it's just,” Vivien sighed, cutting herself off. “It just really pissed me off. Like, am I not allowed to have guy friends without everyone jumping down my throat about it? Come on; it’s the twenty-first century, people!”

“I’m not trying to piss you off,” Carrie claimed, hoping the gentle tone in her voice and the soft stroking of the brush would soothe the brunette in some way. “And, if it means anything, I doubt they were either.”

After a while, Vivien let out a break and muttered, “I know.”

Figuring she was finally getting somewhere, Carrie spoke, “I bet they just wanted to make sure nothing between you two could jeopardize your relationship with Royce.”

“Why would that even be a concern?” Vivien pressed as Carrie placed the brush on the bed and began parting her hair.

“Well,” Carrie began slowly, “Mick did say that everyone used to think that you and Noah would get married someday.”

Vivien let out a sharp laugh, careful not to move her head much, “Yeah, when pigs fly, maybe. I have no interest in Noah. Never have, never will.”

“Does Noah feel that way?” Carrie asked.

Feeling Carrie’s hands still in her hair, Vivien turned slightly, eyeing the blonde curiously as she said, “Considering he’s been going out with one of the other staff members, I’d say he doesn’t. Why? Did you think he liked me that way?”

Making sure to choose her words carefully, Carrie admitted, “I wasn’t totally sure, but I’m not the only one who was more than a little concerned.”

Vivien’s gaze shifted, flitting over the items she’d brought into her room over the last few weeks as she thought about what the blonde’s words could mean. All too soon, she came to a conclusion and closed her eyes as she sighed, “You mean Royce, don’t you?”

Carrie confirmed the brunette’s question in a roundabout way, “He’s not worried about you in the slightest; you should know that above everything else.”

“What’s he worried about then?” Vivien asked, an almost exasperated tone slipping into her voice. “If he trusts me enough to know I’d never leave him for anyone, why is he concerned about me and Noah?”

“It’s not the two of you he’s worked up over,” Carrie admitted. “You have to realize, he doesn’t know Noah as well as you do. He trusts you with everything he has, but he’s not so sure about Noah. If anything, I think Royce is a bit intimidated by him.”

“Intimidated by Noah?” Vivien snorted, “He’s about as intimidating as a baby bird.”

“To you.” When Vivien remained silent, Carrie said, “Noah’s taller, more athletic, ambitious, and I have to admit, he’s a very charming boy. If you ask me, Royce might find it very hard to see the two of you together when he already thinks you deserve far more than just him.”

“I don’t want anybody other than Royce,” Vivien stated firmly as Carrie’s fingers wove together the tail of her braid. “He’s the best person I could have asked for and he knows that.”

“Does he?”

Vivien took a moment before muttering her response, “He should.”

Carrie took in a deep breath before sighing, “What about Noah? Have you talked with him about that?”

“No,” was Vivien’s meek reply. “He never said he was worried about it. If he had, I would have said something.”

“And now?”

Vivien took in a breath, nodding to herself as she spoke, “I’ll try to talk to him about it tomorrow and explain Noah has a thing for someone else.”

Carrie tied off Vivien’s braid and brought her arms around the girl’s shoulders from behind with a smile. “I think that will make a world of a difference to him.”

“You do?” Vivien asked, her eyebrow raising toward her bangs.

“Mhm,” Carrie hummed with a nod. “I think it’s been eating at him for quite some time.”

Sighing, Vivien slouched against the blonde and wondered aloud, “Why didn’t he say anything to me about it?”

“I think a part of him was worried that you’d take it the wrong way,” Carrie acknowledged. “He probably didn’t want you to feel like he was trying to control your friendships or anything, so he thought it would be easier to muscle through it all until the end of summer.”

Vivien allowed the thought to process in her mind. It wasn’t an outlandish idea. She knew how awkward Royce tended to be when it came to their relationship. While she thought of it as endearing, she never figured it would bring them to this point. With a sigh, Vivien stared up at the ceiling and asked, “Do you think talking it over with him will help?”

Vivien tried not to sigh as Carrie shrugged behind her. “There’s only one way to find out,” the blonde claimed and, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, Vivien knew she was right.

Although Vivien had spent the night tossing and turning, her mind racing with ideas as to how to confront Royce and talk things through with him, she was still up earlier than anyone else. Deciding she was done struggling through the early morning hours without getting any rest, Vivien tossed her blankets aside and slid out of bed, taking one of the hoodies she’d stolen from her boyfriend before leaving the room and making her way to Royce’s. Since their time at the camp had begun, the middle of the Murphy brothers had grown accustomed to leaving the door to his room open in case either Bentley or Vivien couldn’t sleep and wanted some company. Now, as she stared into the darkness of the room at what she could just barely tell was her slumbering boyfriend, Vivien wondered how long her friendship with Noah had been eating away at him.

Inching her way into the room, Vivien was careful to avoid the floor boards she knew creaked as she crossed the expanse between herself and Royce. She reached a hand to Royce’s curls as she sat on the edge of the bed, running her fingers through his hair as she smiled down at him. Sooner or later, they’d move past the issue and things would return to normal, but for the time being, she’d have to settle with things being the way they were until she found the right words to explain everything. As Royce stirred, stretching against his mattress like a cat, Vivien moved her hand away, allowing him to move freely until he settled down once more.

Bleary caramel eyes blinked open, scanning the empty space above Royce’s bed before finally settling on the girl sitting beside him. Royce jumped a fraction, surprised by Vivien’s sudden appearance, but calmed almost instantly as he chuckled, his voice thick with sleep, “Mornin’.”

“Good morning,” Vivien muttered. “Mind if I join you?”

Letting out a yawned response of, “Not at all,” Royce shifted on his mattress, sliding to the side enough to give Vivien the room to join him. It didn’t take the brunette long to slot herself into the empty place Royce had left, enjoying the warmth the space radiated. Once they had made themselves comfortable and Vivien’s head rested against the arm Royce had wrapped around her shoulders, Royce softly asked, “Couldn’t sleep?”

Vivien shook her head, agreeing with his statement. “It was a rough night.”

Royce made a noise of apologetic understanding and pressed a kiss to Vivien’s forehead before asking, “Want to try sleeping again?”

“Not really,” Vivien admitted softly, minutely shaking her head against Royce’s arm. “I just wanted to get out of my head for a while.”

With a hum, Royce nodded before pulling Vivien closer, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not yet,” Vivien muttered. “I think I want to figure everything out and sort through everything before I talk it out.”

“Alright,” Royce breathed. “Well, you know where to find me if you need me.”

Vivien nodded silently, allowing her eyes to slip closed as Royce held her close, allowing the comfort of having him by her side to relax her. Though she wanted to tell him everything that had kept her awake that night and get his take on the matter, Vivien was determined to find a way to bring it up without making him upset. She also had to find a way to talk it over without making it seem obvious that she knew he’d talked with Carrie about the situation. The last thing she wanted to deal with was a screaming match between her boyfriend and Carrie. 

Maybe, if she had the chance, she could work up the balls to talk with him before everyone else was awake so that they could discuss it all without the risk of anyone intruding on their conversation. Vivien took a deep breath; that would be a good place to start. Now, all she had to do was figure out what to do about the confrontation itself. She didn’t want Royce to feel cornered as, in the few moments she had seen him backed into a corner, he had lashed out. They had never argued before - never about anything meaningful, at least - and she didn’t want to start now. 

The serenity that blanketed the room was fleeting as a figure appeared in the doorway and made itself known to the room with grumbling complaints of the sun poking its rays over the horizon. Bentley weaseled his way into the space on Royce’s free side, tugging the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and tucking his face into Royce’s chest as much as he could to block out the abhorrently bright sun in the distance. Vivien watched the younger boy with a fond smile before glancing at his older brother who rolled his eyes with a grin, shaking his head once he found his girlfriend’s gaze. Vivien allowed her smile to broaden as she relaxed once more as the idea of talking things over with Royce before everyone else had risen from slumber became a distant notion. 

Vivien took in a deep breath and sighed through her nose as her eyes slid closed once again. Back to the drawing board.

Throughout the first few hours of the day, Vivien had tried everything in her power to get Royce alone, but nothing had worked. Conversation around the breakfast table had flowed easily and everyone seemed so alert that Vivien briefly wondered if they’d all taken something before heading to the mess hall. Whether or not drugs were involved, Vivien didn’t press anyone for information as they chattered amiably around the table. Even when Noah joined the conversation toward the end of the breakfast period, conversation never stalled. Vivien found her gaze drifting toward Royce once Noah appeared, gauging his reactions to Noah’s topics of interest. 

How on earth she had missed the changes in his expression before, she’d never know, but maybe it was because she was so distracted with her friend that she’d never noticed the subtle way Royce’s eyes rolled behind closed eyelids or how his sentences sometimes felt more terse and forced than genuine. Though Royce gave his undivided attention to Vivien when she chimed in on Noah’s ideas, she could tell the entire interaction was bothering him. Whether he knew it or not, it shone in his eyes - a blatant, clear-as-day aggravation that he probably tried to force as far from the surface as possible. Despite his efforts, it didn’t work.

The span of time between breakfast and lunch was filled with script-less practice for the upcoming murder mystery week, giving Vivien no time to talk with Royce, but all the time in the world to speak with Noah. On one of their ten-minute breaks, Vivien followed Noah into the kitchen and grabbed herself a snack as she gave him a quick run-down of all that Carrie had told her regarding Royce’s feelings on their friendship.

“So, what do we do to clear the air?” Noah asked.

“You could come clean about dating Riley,” Vivien suggested.

Noah sighed, his gaze drifting from Vivien’s as he shook his head, “You and I both know I can’t do that. I’m not even sure what Riley and I are right now; telling everyone about it would only complicate things further.”

With a huff, Vivien leaned against the counter and asked, “Could you at least tell Royce, then? He wouldn’t tell a soul and it would help him get out of his own head.”

Noah looked over Vivien’s face before sighing, “Yeah, alright. Just give me a chance to talk it over with Riley first and, when she says it’s alright, you and I can figure out what to tell Royce.”

Vivien offered a slow nod as she sighed, “This whole situation is so stupid.”

Noah chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair as he muttered, “I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”

“There wouldn’t have been a mess to be in if you had kept your hands to yourself,” Vivien taunted, sending Noah a smirk.

The older teen’s face reddened as he rolled his eyes, letting out a soft chuckle, “You could have knocked before barging in.”

“Knocked on a supposedly empty pool shed?” Vivien restated. “Yeah, sure, I’ll be sure to knock the next time you two are in there swallowing each other’s tongues.”

Noah shook his head at the brunette’s sarcasm, “We won’t be in there again, believe me.”

“Mhm,” Vivien hummed, eyeing her friend disbelievingly. “If you two plan on screwing around again this summer, just go down behind the changing rooms by the lake like any other self-respecting couple.”

Noah smirked as he let out a chuckle, “You speaking from experience, Vivi?”

Vivien was quick to shake her head, an amused smile on her face as she headed for the door, “No, but I’ve heard enough of everyone else’s late-night rendezvous while out swimming.”

“That must be fun.”

Vivien scoffed, “That’s not exactly the word I’d use for it.”

The pair joined the group once more, leaving their conversation in the kitchen before taking their places once more. Once everyone returned from their break, the group spent another hour or so working on their lines and making sure they had everything ready for the first few performances. After wrapping up their last practice of the day, the actors got to work setting everything up for lunch. As they set cups of silverware and a napkin holder in the center of each table, Vivien spoke briefly to Carrie about the situation and how she had to give Noah the chance to speak with his fling before telling Royce anything. Though the blonde wasn’t thrilled at the notion of dragging out the boy’s frustration more than they had to, she agreed to go along with the plan for the sake of Noah’s relationship.

Though Vivien held Royce’s hand across the table, they spent little time conversing as everyone practically inhaled their tacos. About halfway through the meal, Vivien watched as her grandmother took to the makeshift stage near the front of the room and called everyone’s attention to herself. “It has come to our attention that everyone claims to have finished their work early.” Scattered cheers flitted across the room before Dawn raised a hand and gestured for them to quiet once again. “Now, since Chief and I like to reward everyone - not just the campers - for their hard work, we have decided to allow you all to do what you please for the rest of the afternoon. I still ask that you be back to your cabins by lights-out, but we will be extending it by an hour to let you have some fun before the chaos begins.”

George stepped up alongside his wife and added, “If you’re feeling up to it, we’ll be taking some of our boats out on the lake for wakesurfing. If you feel like lounging around camp, that’s fine too.”

“All of the buildings are open for the afternoon so you can roam around freely,” Dawn claimed. “Just remember to put everything away when you’re done and to lock up before lights-out.”

“I think that’s it for announcements,” George stated, earning himself a nod from his wife. “If you want to get out on the water, come let me or Dawn know. As for the rest of you, have a great rest of your day, and we’ll see you all in the morning, bright and early for breakfast and bunk assignments for the next segment.”

As everyone returned to their meals and chatter filled the mess hall once again, Vivien turned to Royce with a brilliant, hopeful smile. “Feel like hitting the water with me?” she asked, giving his hand a light squeeze.

Pleasantly surprised by the question, Royce asked, “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking you could show me your wakesurfing skills,” Vivien claimed. “When Carrie and I had our girl’s day, you guys spent all day on the water. I’d love to see what you learned.”

Letting out an almost embarrassed chuckle, Royce smiled, “I’m afraid I didn’t pick up on much.”

“That’s fine,” Vivien shrugged, brushing off his concern with a smile. “I just want to spend some time with you.”

The sincerity in Vivien’s watercolor eyes made Royce’s reluctance melt away as he relented, “Alright. Do you want me to go tell them we want to go out on the lake?”

Vivien shook her head as she stood from the table, “That’s alright. I’ve got it.” She stepped around the end of the table and pressed a kiss to her boyfriend’s temple before muttering, “Feel free to steal my olives while I’m gone.”

“Why did you get olives if you didn’t want them?” Royce asked softly.

“Because you love olives,” Vivien replied with a shrug. Though Royce’s eyebrow remained raised, she brushed it off with a wave of her hand, pulled her tray of food closer to Royce, and said, “Don’t question it. Just take the olives and be happy.”

With a snicker, Royce nodded, glancing up at his girlfriend as she departed, “Thank you.”

Vivien turned back toward the table and gave a deep, overdramatic curtsy before giggling and continuing her mission toward her grandparents as Royce scooped olives from her plate onto his. Sauntering up to the table where her grandparents and aunts were eating with some of the older staff members, Vivien leaned down between Dawn and George and told them the plans she and Royce had agreed to. Dawn hastily scratched their names down on the list she’d placed in an empty space on the table before kissing her granddaughter on the cheek and telling her to get back to her food before it got cold.

After trays had been cleared away and everyone chose their respective activities for the afternoon, Vivien laced her fingers with Royce’s and the pair walked down to the beach with matching smiles as they conversed about anything and everything they could think of. By the time they had changed into their swimsuits and reached the shore, a small crowd had gathered, patiently awaiting their turn on the water. Vivien led Royce out onto the pier and looked out over the water for any sign of her grandfather’s boat. It wasn’t too often they took it out on the water now, but when they did, it guaranteed a day filled with fun and excitement.

The distant hum of a motor echoed through the beach as a boat flew through the water with precision. The hand-painted name on the side of the boat was barely visible, but Vivien knew the distinct design on the starboard side well enough to know that her Grandpa George had chosen to let his prized Aquaholic slice through the otherwise still waters of the lake. The boat approached the pier and Dawn was quick to lower a ramp from the side of the ship to the dock for the passengers to board.

Once they were onboard, Vivien took the chance to look around, eventually locking eyes with a pair of concerned, emerald eyes from across the boat. Vivien’s mouth fell open slightly as she stared in disbelief, but as she spotted Riley seated just two spots away, she rolled her eyes. Of course, she and Royce would choose to spend the day together doing the same activity Noah chose to showboat with. Royce’s grip on her hand tightened a fraction and, while it wasn’t typically something she worried about, Vivien turned to find him staring blankly at Noah. Noah smiled and waved in their direction, which Vivien returned. Royce gave a less energetic greeting before slouching back in his seat.

Vivien glanced back at Noah once Royce was distracted by the boat’s movement and the older boy shrugged, apologetically mouthing that he tried. Brushing him off with a small wave of her hand, Vivien leaned her head against Royce’s shoulder and tried to relax. Once they were far enough out in the water, Dawn asked who wanted to go first. Royce stayed in his place and, in turn, Vivien chose not to move as most everyone fought to go out on the water. One by one, more people left the boat, told they could either stay wherever they ended up in the water and they would be picked up later or they could swim to shore. As the population in the boat dwindled down to ten, then to seven, and eventually four, Noah stood from his seat, eager to impress Riley with his wakesurfing skills.

It didn’t take Vivien long to notice the older boy had Royce’s attention, but she also found a pair of hazel eyes locked on Noah’s form from across the boat. While she hoped Noah did something to impress Riley at least a little, she also hoped something happened to dissuade Royce from feeling like Vivien’s friend was trying to impress her instead. Noah pushed off into the water, quickly rising to his feet on the board and tossing the rope back to the boat as he maneuvered the waves behind the boat with ease. Whether he knew it or not, Noah had Riley’s full attention, the girl’s hazel eyes locked on his form as she fought the urge to smile. However, Vivien also knew he had the attention of a certain brunet who sat beside her, presumably wishing the older boy would end up in the water quicker than anyone else had.

Instead, Noah kept his balance and rode the spine of waves with ease. Eventually, Riley was told she could join Noah out on the water, and, to Vivien’s surprise, she seemed to jump at the chance. Her balance on the water was shaky and apprehensive, but she managed to stay upright for a few minutes before faltering and ending up taking a dive. Noah was quick to follow her, allowing himself to ride through the tail of the waves before falling back into the water. Hearing the faintest chuckle from behind her, Vivien turned to see Royce fighting a smirk as he stood, taking a board from the stack his girlfriend’s grandparents had set up.

Vivien sighed as she pushed herself to her feet; if this little interaction was anything to go by, they would be in for a rather… interesting week.