#i only answered part of your question but i truthfully don’t have many super deep feelings about jiang cheng

[writingtoforgetreality]

New World Order - TFATWS Rewrite Chapter One (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist], [TFATWS Rewrite-Masterlist]

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Summary: You were an Avenger. That was how the world viewed you. Nobody else knew about your past & it was for the better. After all, you had Sam. You had Bucky. That had to be enough. At least for now.

Words: 6,214

Warnings: language, sarcasm, expect some sort of slow burn, there are hints already, this is a Bucky fic, which means that it'll focus on his scenes more, spoilers for TFATWS, (Y/E/C) = your eye color

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

You were no superhero. At least, you would never say you were one. Your past was filled with actions you regretted. None of it was your fault. It was not your decision to be the child of the leader of a HYDRA base. It was not your decision to grow up like a warrior. Fighting. Killing.

Your father was the bad guy. You knew that now. As a child, you did not see through his facade. How could you? He was your dad. Someone who was supposed to love you endlessly. Those years had shaped you. Into the person you were today.

Deep down, you wished there was a way to make you forget. Forget about your past. Forget about the pain. Forget about it all. Hell, you were a laboratory experiment. Those powers did not come from nowhere. No. They came from tons of needles, pumping a toxic serum into you veins. You should not even be alive anymore. Not by what now flowed through your body. Apparently, it was for your own good. That was how your dad put it. Absolute bullshit. Growing up isolated from the world, being trained to fight, to kill, daily. Your own good my ass. If it did one thing, then it ruined your damn life.

But at least you had powers, right? Blue flames you could control. Those blue flames that were hotter than anything else in this world. It took an awful lot of time to fully have control. Truthfully, you hated that part of you with every fiber of your being. It had been the cause of one too many deaths. You had been the cause. But weakness was not in your nature. If you did not show strength you would be a disappointment. Something you really did not want to be.

Bucky was the reason you got out of this life. He was the one to rescue you out of this hell hole. He was the one to show you an entirely different part of this world. And for that, you could never thank him enough. If it were not for Bucky, you would have gone insane ages ago. Who knew if you were still here today?

The Avengers were aware of your past. Of you being a part of HYDRA back in the days. Yet, you had never elaborated this any further. If there was one thing you were good at, it was keeping things to yourself. No need to burden others with your struggles. And you did struggle. Every single day. Because your mind was filled with memories. Memories you had tried to burn. Memories you wanted to erase. Memories of you being the bad guy. Just like your dad had been.

Your life changed when you were introduced to the Avengers. They did not trust you. Not right away. But during the fight with Thanos, the one after the Blip, you proved yourself to be worthy of their trust. Especially Steve. He had been there for you. When everyone else failed to believe in you. He was gone now. And it hurt like hell. Giving up was never an option. And the universe did not plan on giving you a break anytime soon. For now, you had to bury your feelings as deep as possible. Your focus should solely be on the new threats of this world. Threats, that seemed to increase daily.

“Bucky is an asshole.” you were on the phone with Sam & the fact that the super soldier had been ignoring him for a while did not leave a good feeling inside his chest.

“What a revelation.” sarcastic comments were part of your life. It was your way of coping with everything. Frankly, it worked. More or less. “Give him some time.”

“More time? No.” sighing loudly. “I have other things to focus on.” he was referring to the mission he was about to perform.

“You sure you’ll be fine on your own?” it was not like you did not believe in his abilities. Just, life had not been the same ever since billions of people came back.

“When have I ever not been?” you could think of a few times but Sam ended the call before you even had the chance to answer. Typical.

Luckily, Sam usually told you about his missions. And you were proud of him. You really were. The situation you found yourself in? With Bucky & him? Well, it was everything but good. Bucky called you. You called Sam. Sam called you. You called Bucky. A circle you kept alive. And it sucked to be their only way of communication. For now, though, both of them were too stubborn to change anything about it.

“Enjoying the Tunisian sun I hope?” whenever Sam went on a mission, you had him call you after it. Simply because he knew you worried.

“You know it.” in the far background you could hear him working on something.

“Is everyone alright? That trainee of yours? What’s his name again?”

“Torres.” he sighed, frustrated by your question. You had asked him about a million times & apparently, you still had no clue. Truth was, you just liked messing with him. “Redwing is hurt.”

“Naaaw, poor baby.” giggling slightly. That man cared more for a piece of tech than he should.

“Shut up.” okay, better not mess with Wilson if it came to Redwing. Got it.

“When are you coming back?” your voice turned serious again. Having him gone for so long did not stick right with you. Obviously, you knew he was doing it for the greater good. But still. “I swear to all the Gods, if you say when we’re done here…” mumbling quietly but loud enough for him to hear.

“When we’re finished here.” a chuckle could be heard from his side. By the way it sounded, you assumed Torres was laughing as well. Rolling your eyes at his antics. He could be such a child sometimes.

“Oh, fuck off, Wilson.”

“Hey, language!” Sam had fun. Yeah, you were the one cracking jokes all of the time but he could deliver, too.

“Okay, you know what? Bye. Text me when you’re back.” now, it was you who did not give him enough time to respond. After all, he would have clapped back with another snarky remark & you were not in the mood for it. At all.

“Steve represented the best in all of us. Courageous, righteous, hopeful. And he mastered posing stoically.” everyone chuckled at Sam’s description. Of him. Steve. Rhodey was standing right next to you. In that suit of his. The one that made him look way more approachable than you. No need for people to approach you. They did not know who you were before. And they sure as hell did not need to. It would turn things complicated. Humans did not like complicated. You did not like it. “The world has been forever changed. A few months ago, billions of people reappeared after five years away, sending the world into turmoil. We need new heroes. Ones suited for the times we’re in. Symbols are nothing without the women & men that give them meaning. And this thing…” he paused briefly, let out a short chuckle. The shield. “I don’t know if there’s ever been a greater symbol. But it’s more about the man who propped it up, & he’s gone. So, today we honor Steve’s legacy. But also, we look to the future. So, thank you, Captain America. But this belongs to you.” the crowd erupted into cheers. Applause was filling the room & you felt out of place. What was he doing? When Sam asked you to join him here today, he left out the fact that he wanted to give away the shield. The shield Steve had trusted him enough to own. And the people surrounding you? They…celebrated him for it? This entire speech was proof enough that Wilson was worthy of this job. So why the hell did he make that decision? Watching the shield being put into the showcase, you could hardly hold in the tears that formed at the corners of your (Y/E/C) eyes. Rhodey nudged you, sensing that something was wrong. Head hanging low, you ignored him, walking out of the room as fast as possible. If you stayed here any longer, Sam would have bruises for sure. Bruises caused by you. You would not risk that. Though, he kind of deserved it.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Sam asked Rhodey when he finished with the press. You had told him you would wait here for him. There was no sign of you.

“Left a while ago.”

“What do you mean “Left a while ago.”? Did she say where she was heading?” why did you decide to leave? Had anything happened while he held his speech? All Rhodey could do was shrug. An explanation was not given by you. And he knew better than to ask.

“Take a walk?” Rhodey suggested, completely unaware to your weird behavior. The two of you were not that close. So he did not know you like Sam did. You were an adult, after all. If you wanted to go somewhere without asking someone first, then you were allowed to do that.

Disappointment was flooding through your body. Friends told each other stuff like that, right? So why did he keep it a secret that he planned on giving away the shield. With that action, he broke Steve’s trust & you were livid. If only Steve were here right now. You missed him. So much. Next time Sam met you, you could not promise anything. Because anger was all you felt. Anger & disappointment. Grief. But that one you could keep to yourself. At least for the time being. Shit. Bucky. One hundred percent did he watch Sam giving away the shield. Oh, he would be filled with hatred. Compared to that, you were only a small threat. Bucky was the one Wilson should keep an eye on. Well, he had been trying to get a hold of him. So far, without luck.

A gunshot blasting woke Bucky up from another night invaded by nightmares. His changed hair did not put his demons at bay. His look was different but there were some things he could never get rid of. His past. The past he dreaded as much as you did. Probably what you two had in common. Being part of HYDRA & all. His breathing was irregular & there was no way in hell he could go back to sleep. It was in the middle of the night & he hated himself for relying on someone else. But he would go insane if he did not call another person right now. If he did not call you. The only one who seemed to understand what he was going through. The only one who never judged him because of his nightmares. The only one who made him feel like he was a good person. Not the killer he once had been. When HYDRA controlled him. Back, when he was called “The Winter Soldier”. Would he ever move on from that? Grabbing his old phone, he did not overthink too long & dialed your number. One, he knew by heart. Because he had called you so many times. It stuck in his head.

“Buck? Is everything alright?” concern was present in your voice. Usually, when you got a call in the middle of the night, it was him. And you were fine with it. If he trusted you enough to help him with his demons, than you were more than happy to come to his aid. No matter the time.

“I-I…it’s just, ugh, I-“ still shaken up from his nightmare, you did not need him to finish his sentence. You had been in this exact situation so many times. You knew what he needed. Your presence. Your voice. Your comfort. You.

“I’ll be there in a few.” assuring him, you were already grabbing the stuff you needed & walked out of your apartment. Only one destination in mind. Him. “Do you need me to stay on the phone?” it was a simple question. A stupid one, too. Usually, he would not say a word until you were with him. But it felt right to ask him what he wanted you to do. Needed you to do. When he did not answer for a few moments, you guessed he only nodded, not realizing that you could not see his motions. Yet, he did not hang up. Neither did you. Your breathing was enough for him. At least until you were in his apartment.

Knocking softly, as to not wake his neighbors, the door opened almost immediately after. Squeaking ever so slightly. Taking in his appearance, you could tell that it had been a bad nightmare. No, not a nightmare. A memory. You knew that because it was the reason you woke up most nights as well. If it were not for him feeling miserable, you would have drooled by the sight of him. No shirt. Hair sticking around so beautifully. Eyes you could lose yourself in. But it was not the right timing. Besides, Bucky & you were just friends. That was it. Just friends. Though, you would lie if you said that you did not feel butterflies whenever he shot you one of his charming smiles. Whenever his body brushed against yours on accident. Yes, he did have that effect on you. Hell, that was not what he needed right now. Your feelings could be dealt with later on. Bucky was all who mattered now. There was no conversation. No words exchanged. It was enough for him if you were with him. A sign that he was not alone. That he still had you. Even after everything. Even after calling you, night after night, disturbing your own rest. Not that you got much to begin with but he did not need to know that. It had always been a mystery to him. Why you stuck around still. Though you had assured him thousands of times that you were in this for good. If he needed you, you were only one call away. And he appreciated you for it. More than he would ever like to admit. Friends. You were friends.

“So, Mr. Barnes, are you still having nightmares?” another session with Dr. Raynor. Another dreaded session. It was stupid to Bucky. But there was no way out of this. He had to. Seconds of silence went by before she spoke up again. “James, I asked you a question. Are you still having nightmares?” what kind of question was that? A stupid one. That was for sure.

“No.” simple, short. Sufficient. Not for his doctor, though.

“We’ve been doing this long enough that I can tell when you’re lying. Well, you seem a little off today. Did something happen recently?”

“No.” what an answer to move this session forward. Clearly, he was not in the mood to talk today. Not even you were able to get his mind off of things. Though, you definitely made his night easier.

“You’re a civilian now. With your history, the government needs to know that you’re not gonna…” her hand motioned stabbing. Awful action but who were you to judge? Bucky nodded with that look on his face that showed how completely done he was with this situation. Yet, she kept going. “It’s a condition of your pardon. So, tell me about your most recent nightmare.”

“I didn’t have a nightmare.” well, it was worth a try. After taking a deep breath, she grabbed the pencil, ready to start writing into that notebook of hers again. “Oh, come on. Really? You’re gonna do the notebook thing? Why? It’s passive aggressive.” looked like the two of them were going back to the roots.

“You don’t talk. I write.” Bucky sighed at that. He knew he would not get out of this.

“Okay. Okay. I crossed a name off the list of my amends yesterday. Don’t worry. I used all your three rules. Senator Atwood. She was a HYDRA pawn for years. Helped her get into office when I was the Winter Soldier. And after HYDRA disbanded, she continued to abuse the power I gave her.”

“So, rule number one, you can’t do anything illegal.”

“All I did was give some intel to the aide to convict her. And I wasn’t involved in anything else.”

“Rule number two?”

“What was rule number two?” his gaze drifting off, showing he thought about it deeply. How ironic.

“Nobody gets hurt. It’s a big one.”

“Then why isn’t it rule number one?” he did have a point there. No room left for arguing about that. “I didn’t hurt anybody. I promise.”

“And what about rule number three?” Bucky’s mouth opened, yet, nothing came out. “The whole point of making amends is to fulfil rule number three.”

“You know, you’re a cynic, Doc. Of course, I completed rule number three. I am James Bucky Barnes & you’re part of my efforts to make amends.” words followed by that smile of his. That smile everyone could tell was fake. Almost creepy. But efforts, right? It was all about the efforts.

“So, you did it all right, but it didn’t help with the nightmares.”

“Well, like I said, I didn’t have any.” Bucky Barnes, everyone. Still trying to fool his doctor.

“Look, one day, you’re gonna have to open up & understand that some people really do want to help you & that they can be trusted. People like (Y/N).” the mention of your name made his eyes snap up.

“I trust more people than her.” it sounded more like he tried to convince himself more than anyone else.

“Yeah? Give me your phone.” an order. Grabbing it out of his pocket to hand it over. A short look was enough. “You don’t have ten phone numbers on this thing. Oh, & you’ve been ignoring the texts from Sam. Look, you gotta nurture friendships. I am the only person you have called all week. That is so sad…Oh, that’s not right. You called (Y/N) last night. Anything you wanna tell me about that?” closing the flip phone, she threw it over to Bucky which he caught with ease.

“What? Do I need to justify calling a friend?” chuckling & shaking his head slightly, he brushed his hands over his thighs.

“If you call that friend at 3 am, then yes. Because you should sleep at that time. Except if you had a nightmare which you claimed that you didn’t.”

“We just talked. That’s all.” he thought that brushing it off as if it were nothing was enough to get her to shut up. Hell, he had brought you up during his sessions way too many times. After all, he still wanted the situation between you guys to be subtle.

“You’re alone.”

“A minute ago, you said I had (Y/N).” he tried arguing but his attempts failed.

“You’re a hundred years old. You have no history, no family…” right, pouring salt in the wounds. That usually worked.

“Are you lashing out at me, Doc? Because that’s really unprofessional, you know? When did that start? Yelling at your clients?” she seemed to have enough & again went for the little book next to her. “Oh, the notebook. That’s great.” sighing deeply, he braced himself to take her more seriously. “All right, give me a break. I’m trying, okay? This isn’t…This is new for me. I didn’t have a moment to deal with anything, you know? I had a little…calm in Wakanda. And other than that, I just went from one fight to another for 90 years.”

“So, now that you’ve stopped fighting, what do you want?” he had an answer in mind right away. Never ever would he say it out loud. It took him a second to reply. Because what he was about to say came in union with his first thought.

“Peace.”

“That is utter bullshit.” what a nice way to bad talk his answer. Maybe she was expecting something else from him. Maybe she knew the answer just as much as he did. The real answer.

“You’re a terrible shrink.”

“I was an excellent soldier, so I saw a lot of dead bodies, & I know how that can shut you down. And if you are alone…”

“Which I’m not because I have (Y/N).”

“…that is the quietest, most personal hell. And, James, it is very hard to escape. Look, I know that you have been through a lot, but you’ve got your mind back, you are being pardoned. I mean, these are good things. You’re free.”

“To do what?”

Wednesday. Bucky usually went to Izzy. Today, he asked you to join him & Yori. Why he wanted you there with them? No clue. But it was not often he asked you to go somewhere with him so you agreed on meeting them there.

“Take a look.” Yori was a cute, old man. Reading his newspaper like a good citizen. Bucky had yet to give you an explanation as to why you were here right now. But for now, you just sat next to him, quietly observing your surroundings. “Nobody made it past 90 this week.” it was funny, to see Bucky trying his hardest to sound interested. Like he understood.

“So young. Such a shame.” his words made you scoff. Apparently, once you hit the 100 mark, you turn into a sarcastic piece. If you were not one before. If you ever made it to 100? Only the Gods knew what would come after that. Most people called you a sarcastic asshole now. Could that be topped?

“You guys didn’t order the usual, huh? Feeling a little adventurous?” the woman behind the counter directed her words at the three of you.

“Um, actually, I’ve never been here before, so…” you chuckled to avoid the awkwardness that would sure as hell build if you kept quiet now.

“You should ask her out.” Yori leaned over to Bucky & you almost choked on your food at his words. Bucky asking her out? Her? Yeah, she was beautiful & all. But her? Really? Seemed like that Yori dude did not know Bucky as well as he claimed to. You, on the other hand, were aware that nothing good would come out if it. Besides, they would not even make a nice couple. Shit, were you jealous? Oh no. Glancing over at the man next to you, his face showed just how much he despised this idea. At least something.

“Mm-mmm…” shaking his head frantically, he shot you a quick look but before his eyes locked onto yours, your gaze fell down to your plate. Slightly embarrassed. Scared that, if he looked at you, he would notice something behind your look. Something more. Something, that you wanted to keep hidden. For everyone’s sake.

“He would like to take you out on a date.” oh fuck off, Yori. You had nothing against this man but he was pushing your buttons. Could he not see that Bucky was incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of going on a date? With her? “Maybe to bingo or a night of pinochle.” hiding your laugh behind one of your hands, you could not believe that he was serious. Bucky & bingo? Well, it was for old people so you guessed it fit quite well. Not with her, though. Oh no, you really were jealous.

“I’m really sorry about him.” Bucky apologized for his friend’s behavior. Yes, you were sorry for him, too.

“Why are you sorry?” of course, now the woman was flirting with him. It got better & better. Taking a deep breath, you tried to keep your emotions at bay. You could not lash out in the middle of this restaurant, after all. Even though you were this close to doing just that. Deep breaths, you got this. “I’m game.” sure she was.

“Wow.” really? Bucky was impressed? By this? Oh come on, why would he settle for less when he could have so, so much more. But it was not your decision. He was not yours. You did not own him. Neither did you make the decisions for him.

“Tomorrow night, then?” Yori leaned over the counter.

“Tomorrow night’s great.” she replied with a bright smile.

“Hey, I just remembered something.” you spoke up all of a sudden. Bucky’s eyes met yours now & he saw that you were uncomfortable. Though, he could not pinpoint why. “Um, I-I need to go. See you, Buck. Bye guys.” sprinting out of the restaurant, you hoped nobody would follow you. Not in the mood to deal with anyone right now. All you wanted was to be alone right now. Your mind the only one keeping you company. But your mind was not really the kindest to you. Not in this particular moment. So what? Bucky had a date. You knew that would happen sooner or later. He was a good looking man. More importantly, you just wanted him to be happy. Genuinely happy.

Fucking great. Who could you talk to? You still were not done being mad at Sam. And now you were mad at Bucky for something he did not even do. He sort of did. He could have said no. If he really did not want to, he could have said no. Bucky was enough of a man to speak his mind, you knew that. Maybe he did want to go on a date with her. What was her name again? Not that you cared too much. But still. Blinking away the tears that had formed at the corners of your eyes, you kept on walking. Without a real destination. You were stupid. Friends. Why could you not accept this? Usually, you would call Steve in such a situation. Or even Tony. But it was too late now. They were not here anymore. You had to deal with that sooner or later. Whether you liked it or not. Contemplating calling Sam, you eyed your phone carefully. One more button. But nope. The anger was bigger than the need to talk to someone. Stubborn you. Wilson could make you feel better. But you would most likely end up yelling at him. And you knew you would regret your words later on. So might as well stay silent for the time being. Until you calmed down enough.

It was 10 pm. Date time for Bucky. That same restaurant. Being the gentleman that we was, he even brought her flowers. Like it used to be back in the 40s.

“Well, if that’s not the most adorably old-fashioned thing anyone’s ever done.” Bucky felt lost. In her company. “Grab a seat, I’ll be done in a few.”

“Okay.” he could up & leave. It would not be too late. All he knew was that it felt wrong.

“So, have you dated much since half the fish in the sea came back?”

“Not really. I, um…tried the whole online dating thing. (Y/N), the girl who was here with me yesterday, she set up a profile for me because I didn’t understand a single thing.” laughing at the memory, he thought back to when he called you to ask you for a favor. How you laughed at him for wanting to try this whole bullshit. “It’s pretty crazy. A lot of weird pictures.”

“What kind of weird?”

“I mean, tiger photos? Half the time I don’t even know what I’m looking at. It’s…It’s a lot. When I showed (Y/N), she simply said that this was what I signed up for.”

“You sound like my dad.” definitely something a man did not want to hear while on a date. On the other hand, he did not even want this to be a date. “Wait. How old are you?

“A hundred & six.” only he could make it sound so casually. Like it was the most normal thing on this planet. Both laughed at his words. Simply because it was so absurd.

“What’s up with your big gloves?” a sensitive topic she just touched.

“I, um, have, uh…poor circulation.” sure thing.

“Hmm…Hey, what is it about this (Y/N) girl & you?” his eyes widened at her question. What was she getting at?

“She’s my friend. Why?” his dumbfounded expression made her chuckle.

“A friend, huh?”

“Um, yeah.”

“You sure about that?” an eyebrow raised. A questioning stare was sent his way.

“Why does everyone think I don’t have friends?” throwing his head back in frustration, he let out a long sigh.

“It’s not that.” she stopped briefly, thinking about her next words carefully. “Just, you guys seem pretty close.”

“Well, we’ve known each other for years.” he reasoned, gesturing with his hands to bring his point across.

“Yeah? And the looks you’re shooting each other when the other one’s not looking?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You two aren’t really subtle about this, you know?” she wiped the counter & did not even look at Bucky. He, on the other hand, started sweating.

“Subtle about what?”

“Oh, come on. Who are you kidding? I don’t even know why you’re here right now.”

“Because Yori set you & me up on a date.”

“And why did you agree?” she crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for an explanation from the man in front of her.

“I-I don’t know.” he responded truthfully. Because he thought it to be polite? Because Yori was the one who suggested it? Honestly, he was not sure.

“That’s what I thought. Look, you’re a nice guy & all but…just, listen to your heart from time to time. It’s late. You should head out. See you.” she turned around & walked further into the restaurant. Leaving Bucky alone with his thoughts. It was clear what she intended. Did not mean that it made this entire situation any easier. Bucky left without another word. Fresh air would help him think straight.

Your phone rang & you sighed when you checked who decided to annoy you. Bucky. Of course. But wait. Should he not be on his date right now? Did something go wrong? Not that you wanted it to but if you were entirely honest, you would not be mad about it either.

“Hi Buck. What’s up?”

“I need your help with something.” there was no hesitation in his voice. Just him being straight forward.

“Please don’t tell me you need help on how to get the girl.” it was your way to lighten the mood. You did that because you could tell that he was incredibly serious. Usually, this was never a good sign.

“Can I send you an address? Can you meet me there as soon as possible?” his voice was low, deep.

“Um, sure thing. But just to set things clear…I won’t join in on your fun, Buck. That’s between you & her.” again, sarcasm was your way of coping with emotions. Though, it was not the right time to use it right now. His next words were proof enough. You should not mess with him. Not in this moment.

“Can you be serious for a second?” he raised his voice a little. It was not much but it was enough to leave you confused. Bucky was not the person to yell at you. Especially not like this.

“I’m sorry…Um, yeah, tell me where & I’ll get there as fast as I can.” gulping down, you waited for him to give you more information.

Arriving at an unfamiliar building, you could make out Bucky’s form in front of it. Why would he want to meet you here? Where was his date?

“Buck?” your voice barely above a whisper. The night sky only illuminated by the moon that shone brightly. Providing just a tiny bit of light. Enough, to let you notice your surroundings.

“Thanks for coming.” you could tell that he was stressed, tough, you were not sure why.

“Is everything alright? Because I swear, if that woman did anyth-“

“No, she didn’t. Promise.” his warm smile was encouraging enough. It was clear that he was not lying to you. “Just…didn’t work out. But that’s not why you’re here.”

“Okay?”

“My last nightmare. Do you remember?” nodding for him to continue. “How I killed that innocent man?”

“It wasn’t you, Buck. You were being controlled.” touching his shoulder softly, squeezing it to reassure him.

“Whatever…That guy, it was Yori’s son. I want to, need to, apologize. Even though the apology comes way too late.” you nodded at him, your eyes meeting his briefly. Now you knew why he called you. He did not want to do this alone. No. He wanted you by his side. To support him through it. Entering the building together, Bucky led you to the apartment Yori lived in. His hand raised to knock on the door. Surprisingly, he did not waste any time. He wanted to get this over with. Understandingly so. No words were exchanged. You being here, with him, that was more than enough.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Yori opened the door, his face showed confusion by the appearance of you two. “How was the date?” you could not help but roll your eyes at the old man in front of you. Looking at Bucky, you were worried when you saw him having an internal conversation with himself. Mouth opening & closing again. No words coming out. Risking a look inside the apartment, you noticed a small picture frame with who you assumed to be his son. The one Bucky killed. No. The one the Winter Soldier killed.

“It was…It was good.” Bucky mumbled.

“Bullshit.” you followed after. None of them heard you, though. Luckily.

“Forgot I owed you for lunch.” Bucky handed him money. If you were not mistaken, this was not a form of apologizing. He had a hard time, though, that much was obvious. Afterwards, Bucky turned around & walked away without another word. Which left you alone with a confused looking Yori.

“I’m sorry for the disturbance, sir. Have a good night.” plastering on the sweetest smile you could offer, you followed Bucky outside. Jogging to keep up with the super soldier.

Back outside, you saw Bucky holding his little notebook in his hands. You knew about it. Because you were the only person he talked to when it came to his therapy sessions. A look over his shoulder could tell that his eyes were trained on the name being circled. His body was tense. That was not what he planned.

“It’s okay, Bucky.” your hand stroked over his lower back in a comforting way. Your forehead rested against his shoulder, hoping, that it would ease him a little. You could feel him calm down at your touch. “Give yourself some time.” you mumbled quietly, knowing he could hear you clearly due to the calm night. You just hoped that he would not beat himself up too much. Not more than he already did.

You were back in your own apartment. Still no words from Sam. But that was nothing new. Sometimes, he would go radio silent for a few days but after that, he would always check in with you. Maybe he figured that you were mad at him. For giving away the shield & all. And he probably was busy with work. The work he did with Torres. If he needed your help, he would call you for sure. Your TV got your attention again. Something told you to watch closely. So you did.

“Unrest, in the wake of recent events, has left us vulnerable. Every day Americans feel it. While we love heroes who put their lives on the line to defend Earth, we also need a hero to defend this country. We need a real person who embodies America’s greatest values. We need someone to inspire us again, someone who can be a symbol for all of us. So, on behalf of the Department of Defense & our Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero. Join me in welcoming your new Captain America.” the crowd cheered loudly & someone walked through the door. You could not believe what was happening. Please, this had to be a bad dream. When would you wake up form this hell? A man, wearing his suit, holding his shield, greeted the people. Looking at your hands, you could see small, blue sparks forming at the tips of your fingers. That only ever happened when you had no control over your emotions. Right now, you were everything but in control. Of course he had to wink at the camera like the sick person he was.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” breathing out lowly, you put your head into your hands, completely ignoring the sparks there. You did not feel them anyway. If you ever met this son of a bitch it would not end well for him. And the next time you would meet Wilson? Fingers crossed he could deal with your angry & disappointed self. Because you were seething.

~to be continued~

Next Chapter

Published (04/02/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @taina-eny​, @tanyaherondale​, @cool-ultra-nerd​, @toribentleyva, @buckyandlokirunmylife​, @annadier​, @howlongtillidie​, @mizz-kraziii, @theetherealbloom​, @millenniumloki​, @marvelbros-oneshots​, @ajbwasnthere, @bilesxbilinskixlahey​, @mystictimetravelcolor​, @dbrees256​, @sxpxrnxturxl, @dreamydreamerwriting​, @dolllstyles​, @angelicastiel​, @prettysbliss, @infinitelyforgotten​, @sweetserendipity65​, @lilystilinskicullen​, @partypoisonsblog, @btdsprayberry, @sarai-ibn-la-ahad​, @deamus-liv​, @simplybarnes​, @sethcohenluvr (let me know if you wanna be tagged <3)

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 4

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: angst, mention of violence, slow burn Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier. 

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Hope was surprisingly actually kept alive as suddenly you were seeing the blonde-haired super soldier every morning. Sometimes even in the afternoon. While his order never changed -- quite the man with a plan as he certainly liked to stick to a routine -- he became much more talkative. 

It started out as the littlest things. Steve would bid you a good morning or ask you about some breaking news he saw the other day. You entertained the chit-chat quite well in between orders. Steve had practically taken over the seat at the bar, the same one you had offered him that one nerve-wracking day.

Wondering what he would ask you about each day certainly helped to keep your mind off things. Granted, it didn’t totally block out the fact you were speaking to your soulmate’s best friend, but the conversations mixed with that tinge of hope sure did keep thought about the nightmares at bay. 

Nothing was exactly progressing or regressing with the nightmares. They were at a sort of standstill in your mind. They were filled with violence but still were of older times, decades ago. The emotions, though, were not letting up. If you didn’t wake up with vivid imagery of knives being flung and guns being loaded, you sure did wake up with a roller coaster of feelings rushing through you. 

But what was felt from your soulmate didn’t exactly align with what the nightmares told. The small glimpses of Bucky’s eyes as the Winter Soldier wasn’t filled with… anger, sadness, regret. They were just… eyes. They held little to nothing outside of stoic determination. If lines were getting crossed, you weren’t sure. You still walked around feeling like a freakshow on display despite the fact no one, especially your coworker who had seen you initially crash and burn, ever asked you about the soulmate “dreams.”

Well, that was until Steve started getting more comfortable at the coffee shop.

One afternoon, he had apparently decided to get bold. He was lounging at the little bar area and you could feel his eyes watching you clean up some syrup bottles. 

Steve broke the silence, asking you something that he typically always did: “How are you?”

You shrugged with your back still facing him. “I’m doing okay, Steve. How are you?”

“No,” he let out an awkward cough. Your brows furrowed as you turned to him, abandoning your task. “How are you?” He asked with such a pointed look that your heart sank. 

You fumbled with the rag you were still holding, trying to look anywhere but at Steve -- but his demanding presence didn’t allow for it.

“If I’m being honest, not much is getting better,” you admitted. “I still see things, sure, but it's really about the feelings I get. They are so strong but I don’t know how. The dreams are like old memories or something, I’m not sure anymore.”

Steve nodded then looked down at his lukewarm coffee. You didn’t know how he didn’t get tired of that stuff, but you were past thinking he actually came in for the coffee anymore. 

“Thought they would’ve lightened up by now,” Steve eventually said. Your eyes shot to him. Every other word out of this man’s mouth seemed to stun you. You were nearly convinced he knew everything.

You wanted to tread on this, but carefully. 

“Why…” you sighed. “Why do you say that?”

“Hmm?” Steve hummed as if he didn’t hear your question. Your eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“I asked, why do you say that?”

He looked away, this time at the lines of syrup bottles behind you. He seemed lost in thought, his eyes shining with concern. Maybe he just needed that push and you wanted him to confirm… something, anything. 

Steve snapped back to you suddenly. “Just thought since it’s been a few weeks it’d be better.”

You looked to the ceiling, taking a deep breath. “Steve, do you-,” 

You were abruptly cut off by Steve getting up and placing his empty coffee mug on the counter. “Thanks for the coffee.” That was his final parting words for the day before he walked out of the shop, leaving you standing there confused and annoyed. 

But this wasn’t going to be over. Especially not after you went home that night, settled into bed, and gave into the nightmares. While still past memories, they were only a few years old. And featured Steve. Flashed of a bruised, tragic-looking Captain America played out quickly. The feelings washing over you were those of strong love but even stronger regret. Everything pounded in you as the nightmares played, coming in a weird kaleidoscope of clips. The hurt you felt was overwhelming. But there was also just so much… Worry. Fear. Your soulmate was afraid. Afraid of what exactly, you didn’t know, but he was consumed. 

You woke up in the early morning hours, heart pounding, feeling raw from that nightmare. Everything felt powerful like the final straw was snapped in you. You needed stuff to lessen and, supposedly, that could come with actually meeting your soulmate. You didn’t know the logistics of it all, people had been so vague as they preferred to fawn over and treasure the initial dreams, but there were ideas out there about how once soulmates formally met they created new shared dreams. Together, through the connection. These could be just as bad or they could be just as good as the original telepath. No matter the fact, you needed something. You were begging for this pull to loosen. The world was setting you up with this man and you had to see about it. Maybe get some kind of closure, at least. You were exhausted from playing it safe with Steve. Everything from his dumbass vague phrases to his hovering gaze gave you your answers. 

You were once again a woman on a mission, but this time you couldn’t hide behind a coffee counter and brewing espresso. 

You called out of work but showed up at opening time. Your coworker stared at you in surprise when the bell rang but you just gave her a wave and made yourself comfortable at a table right by the door. You sat very still, staring at the glass door, watching the patrons. 

A glance at the clock told you Steve was late for his usual coffee run but you weren’t giving in. If he had any inkling about your confusion he would show, be the confident man he could be and face you. 

Thankfully, you were correct. It was mid-morning by the time Steve strolled in, definitely not surprised to see you patiently waiting. Your eyes locked immediately as he gave a defiant sigh. But he didn’t bypass you for the counter. Instead, after you gave a single nod, he sat at the table, directly across from you. 

“Good morning,” Steve greeted you but he lacked that award-winning smile he always gave with it.

“Good morning,” you said, suddenly feeling iffy under his gaze. You had to practically shake yourself out of it to get back on track. You weren’t backing out, not after what you had felt last night. This would consume you after so many years. Your soulmate was going to consume you if you didn’t man up. “I think we need to talk.”

Steve nodded. “I agree.”

You sighed, a bit relieved. He possibly did know, your suspicions were confirmed. “These nightmares I have - they’re about-,”

“Bucky,” Steve answered so simply, you were almost jealous by how the name rolled off his tongue with ease. That was your soulmate and you could barely talk about him. But that was ending, you reminded yourself. Right now, you were taking steps. Life had become a whirlwind but maybe you needed it. 

“Yes,” you confirmed. “Everything I see it’s from his days as… you know what.”

“The Winter Soldier.”

You groaned in annoyance with yourself. “I’m sorry, this is just so weird for me,” you said. “I just learned the other day him and I are… And it’s a lot. Everything is a lot. I see and feel so much in the nightmares that I needed to make progress or something but, truthfully, I don’t know how to go about any of this.”

Steve nodded, his eyes looking very sympathetic. He leaned forward, his arms now resting on the surface. You shifted in your seat, staring down at the wood patterns of the table. Steve didn’t seem to mind the lack of eye contact, though, as he began. 

“I’ve known about you for a while,” Steve admitted. “When Bucky began getting back to himself he would talk about you every now and then. I-I don’t know when he realized it but he’d tell me bits of what he thought you looked like, where you went to school, the coffee shop you were always in… And, well, it didn’t take long for me to realize it was you he was seeing in dreams. But he doesn’t know that I see you nearly every day,” Steve let out a light chuckle, almost in disbelief of himself. “And he certainly doesn’t know the dreams he’s relaying to you. I don’t think he’s ever thought about it, honestly.”

Your heart jumped knowing your soulmate actually knew about you. Saw you. Got the loveliest dreams about you. It made you feel pretty good, really. You were glad you were giving him something light, relaxing, after everything he had seen. Maybe that was a fair trade. As long as your soulmate was okay.

“He doesn’t know I see all those… Things?” You asked, your voice dropping a bit timidly.

Steve sighed, shaking his head. “If I had to guess, it would have something to do with the fact that he’s remembering everything,” he said. “Everything he had done, the people and violence… All that comes back to him. He’s said he remembers it all. That’s probably the feelings you’re getting with the nightmares - him handling the aftermath.” 

Your heart dropped at that. You lifted your gaze to meet Steve’s, seeing he was wearing a similar mix of sadness and worry. It was still strange to feel this ache when you were awake.

But you understood, at least, as much as you could. It sounded like there was some healing going on, with everything coming in waves. Did you like that you had to suffer because of it? No. But that was your soulmate and a deep part of you wanted to just take all that pain away for him personally. 

“It’s not fair he has to deal with all this,” you said. 

Steve agreed, “It’s not.”

“But I want to help,” you spoke with such sudden determination. Steve gave you a confused look. “Would he… Would he want to meet me?”

That look of surprise on him suddenly morphed into some form of relief, with a bit of a smirk playing on Steve’s lips. 

“I think I could arrange that.”

“R-Really?” Your hands were practically shaking at this point but Steve seemed too cool and collected, almost proud of the situation he was concocting. 

“If I’m being honest, he mentions something about you nearly every other day.”

Your jaw went slack, now making you the surprised one. “But you knew who I was. Why didn’t you just tell him?”

“Would you have honestly been comfortable if I just sent him in here?”

Well, he had you there. You sighed, shaking your head, sinking a bit in your seat. 

“Yeah, he wouldn’t either,” Steve mumbled. “But it’ll be okay. I’ll figure out something.”

You nodded, maybe a bit too eager. “Thank you.”

Steve gave a small smile then averted his gaze to the table as if debating what to say next. You thought the conversation had wrapped up nicely but there was another thing you didn’t expect to hear about.

“You know,” Steve began, “back in the day, Buck never had any dreams and while now we know why,” he motioned towards you. You blushed. “We had just figured he didn’t have a soulmate or something. Like the world had just happened to screw up…” His voice trailed, letting out a brief sigh. “I can’t imagine his relief when he got the first images of you.”

Your heart swelled. It took everything in you not to choke out sobs. The feeling of hope and… love suddenly wash over you. It was such a distant feeling but it was all coming. Slowly, it was becoming an acquaintance. 

“Do you have a soulmate, Steve?”

He nodded. “I did.” You frowned at the past-tense use of the word. “But that time has come and gone. I’m more than happy to help Bucky get his.”

The lovely feelings crept back, stronger than ever. Just the thought of being in the same area as your soulmate was making it bloom even more.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Bucky Barnes Series Taglist:

@reichelhache @bella-bear03 @rvgrsbrns @thebadassbitchqueen @libraries-and-coffee @adoringanakin​ @heartbeats-wildly @japzalileo @aayaissaa @takemedancingmaine @bahama-mama-llama @ella_italian

[mrs-hyperfixed-writes]

Are You Single - 2

Tag List: @becomeunsolved @ambiguous-g @favorite-slytherin-weirdo @a-weirdperson @artist-bby

The reader makes their way through Castle Dimitrescu, encountering the Lady and her daughters. Heisenberg might just have to re-evaluate his opinion of you when you're the unexpected victor of the battles with them.

You had ran through the glorified saw trap, avoiding Lycans and giants alike as you listened to Heisenberg’s taunting. Evidently he was an asshole, but that didn’t seem to be stopping the butterflies in your stomach going mad at the way he spoke to you. Fear had briefly crawled up your spine when he had dropped the spinning log of spikes, blocking your exit and apparently sealing your fate. Thankfully there had been a crevice in the wall, big enough to drop your backpack down by your side and protect yourself. The only thing that took damage was the handcuffs. It had briefly occurred to you that it seemed a very convenient hiding space in an otherwise foolproof killing room.

You ended up back at the gate that you had been captured at, looking over your shoulder this time as you pulled the lever up. Not that you could do anything if Heisenberg or his overgrown sister decided to double check. It seemed unlikely that either of them would treat you to a meal, but you could hope. If you were being honest with yourself though, Heisenberg hardly screamed refined dining.

No, he seemed more like a man who would order a McDonalds or a Burgerking after he’d been working tirelessly all day on a machine in a tank top. All sweaty. . . you smacked yourself in the face, snapping yourself out of your fantasy. You needed to get a grip. Preferably around his throat or his-

You slapped yourself again.

You left through the gate, coming out to an unpleasant looking vineyard. Of course, Dimitrescu was far too high and mighty to get her hands dirty doing manual labour, and any staff that she may of had to maintain the vineyard were probably dead. You shuddered at the thought of so many deaths. You didn’t know any of those people, didn’t know anyone in this godforsaken village that had been put in the middle of nowhere except for the few that had just survived long enough to be brutally killed in front of you. No one would remember any of the dead. It was as if they never existed. And if you died here - which you likely would - you would likely not be remembered. Not with fondness anyway.

You were brought out of your dark thoughts by the sound of a man groaning and wood creaking. You looked up, and to your surprise found an old-fashioned wagon settled in front of the entrance to Castle Dimitrescu. The doors swung open, and someone all but rolled out. The man was massive, both in height and weight.

“I’ve been waiting for you, my friend,” he said with the attitude of someone who was excited to get down to business.

You stopped a couple of metres away, taking it all in. How was this man even alive? Then again, Dimitrescu was nine feet tall and she seemed like she was functioning better than most people. Especially given that the tallest man in history was nearly nine foot and died super young. You could come to terms with this mans existence in no time.

“Who are you? How do you know me?” You let the uncertainty show in your voice.

“Me? I am but a humble merchant,” he said as he rubbed his hands together. “And you’ve been the talk of the town recently! An unknown human outsider making their way through hordes of creatures with nothing but an axe and some second hand guns? Remarkable.”

You hated yourself for the light blush that crept up your neck at the compliment. You never blushed.

“What can I call you?”

“Ah, forgive my manners. You can call me the Duke. Your name please?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I already know it, but some people prefer to tell others their name rather than have the introduction stolen from them.”

You chuckled, deciding to bridge the few metres of distance. “(Y/n).”

“Pleasure. Now, would you like to purchase anything for the journey ahead? Medicine? Ammunition?”

“Can you tell me what’s happened here?”

“Ah, information. All I can tell you now is that Mother Miranda has seemingly abandoned the village she has spent a century ruling. Slaughtered the villagers.” He took a long drag of a cigar he had lit before releasing the smoke into the air. “It seems she’s done it for her daughter.”

“Her daughter? Dimitrescu? Or the woman in the veil?”

“Ah, Lady Donna. But no, neither of those are her real daughters. It’s doubtful she even considers them such. The same for her sons.”

Your thoughts drifted back to Heisenberg. Did he hate her for that? For not considering him her child? Questions for later.

“Then who?”

The Duke regarded you for a second. “Sell me those crystal skulls you’ve collected, make a purchase and find me in the castle, and perhaps I’ll know more.”

You blinked in surprise, briefly wondering how he knew that you had been collecting the crystallised remains of those Lycans. Truthfully you just thought they were pretty.

After selling the remains and buying yourself some extra ammo, as well as some of the strange medicine the Duke advertised that was supposed to encourage cell division, you nodded to him in thanks and turned to face the castle.

“Although I must say,” The Duke called out before you could make much progress, “why do you wish to go into that castle? You are a stranger. There is no stake in this for you.”

You took a deep breath. Why were you doing this? That beast under your skin wanted to answer. To find and tear them apart. For revenge for all the dead. To satisfy my own need for blood and pain.

Instead you said, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

You walked towards the doors.

***

The inside of the castle was. . . beautiful. Definitely a place a lady would live. Perhaps a place you would live in another life. It seemed as though everything was trimmed with gold, including the beautiful waist high vases decorated with beautiful women. The furniture was of the highest quality, the rugs and carpets plush enough to sleep comfortably on. They looked expensive enough to cost more money than you’d ever had in your entire life. You wiped your muddy boot on the rug you were standing on, leaving a dark smear.

The thing that drew your attention most of all was the portrait that dominated the opposite wall. Three women, admittedly indistinguishable from one another, sat in big dresses. The plaque identified them as the three daughters. Three daughters that loved entertaining foreigners.

A bad feeling overcame you, and you decided to tuck your handgun into your boot, regardless of the discomfort. You covered it with your jeans.

You pressed on until you came to a main chamber that had another set of double doors decorating the walls. A scream rang out, clear as day and stopping you in your tracks. The scream of a woman in terrible pain. Part of you thought that maybe you should try to find her, but something in you knew that it had been a death scream. The agonised scream of someone who wanted to live and was denied.

You swallowed, instead making your way to the double doors, wondering where they lead.

“Well, who’s this then?” an upbeat female voice asked.

You turned to look, and only found three swarms of flies buzzing closer. And right before your eyes, they materialised into three beautiful young women. The daughters. The first thought in your head was how the painting didn’t do any of them justice.

You didn’t even have time to take your gun out of your backpack before the woman on the left - a tall blonde with blood on her mouth - grabbed you by the throat and lifted you clean off the floor, slamming you against the door. She pressed her face closer to your shoulder and took a deep sniff. You shuddered against the feeling of her nose tickling your neck.

“Fresh blood,” she said, voice dripping with a desire that put you on edge.

“Mother says you have to share, sister,” said the redhead with a childish delight, the brunette nodding in agreement with a sadistic grin on her face.

That scream echoed through your head again. The blonde stared into your face, looking for the traces of fear that likely coated their usual victims. She was going to come up empty. You cleared your throat, looking down into beautiful but evil eyes that had probably been the last thing that so many had seen, and spit right in her face.

The grin on her face froze as the glob made contact with her cheek, and then dropped off altogether when her sisters roared in laughter, one of them doubling at the waist and clutching her stomach.

She threw you to the floor, tossing your backpack aside and growling at her sisters to silence them. You leaped towards it with the intention of pulling your shotgun out, deciding to keep the handgun a secret. But she grabbed a fistful of your hair, most of her materialising back into that swarm as she did so. She dragged you through the halls, her sisters flanking you. You clawed at her hand, but to no avail.

Another swarm got too close, a face materialising. The brunette. She ripped one of your arms off of where it was clawing at the hand that felt as if it was going to rip your scalp off. She held it up to her mouth and grinned. You didn’t even have the chance to scream as she sank her teeth into the side of your forearm, digging in deep. Then she pulled back, laughing. She hadn’t done it to feed, only to hurt you. The other sister came forward, her face materialising as well to lick up the blood that was leaking down your arm. She left little bites of her own up your arm. But these were more like love bites.

Suddenly they stopped, and the oldest released the grip on your hair, using her momentum to throw you into a wall.

“Mother,” she started, “I bring you fresh prey.”

Oh no.

You turned, out of breath from the hurt your body had suffered.

“You are so kind to me, daughters.” She took a deep drink of wine and rose from her chair. “Now, let's take a look at them.”

You didn’t get up from the floor, not having the energy or the stupidity to make a scene right now. Not as she fully turned and looked down at you.

“Well, well. A nobody with no name worth knowing or manners to speak of makes their way to my castle do they? Well, you escaped my little brother's idiot games did you? Let’s see how special you are.”

She beckoned to the blonde and the redhead. They each grabbed an arm, forcefully hoisting you to your feet. You squirmed a little, but their grip was like iron as they held up the arm with the bleeding bite mark. Lady Dimitrescu raised a brow and looked back at the remaining daughter.

“Cassandra? What did I say about waiting?”

Cassandra looked down at her feet, almost seeming to be ashamed. “Apologies Mother.”

Dimitrescu gripped you by the wrist and lifted you off the ground. You gritted your teeth. She closed her mouth over the wound and sucked. If you were being honest with yourself most of your blood at this point had either transferred to your face or. . .

It wasn’t important. But apparently you needed therapy.

She dropped you suddenly, and you couldn’t help the shout that escaped your lips when your knees made impact with the floor.

“Just as I thought, nothing special.”

“May we devour their flesh now Mother-”

“But I am the one who captured them-”

“Now, now girls. First I must inform Mother Miranda of Heisenberg’s failure. But soon there will be enough for everyone.” She turned to the blonde daughter. “Bela, take them to the dungeons and shove them in a cell.”

Bela grinned at you, seizing your hair again as she dragged you along, leaving the laughter of her mother and her sisters behind.

***

Heisenberg was fuming. Not that you had escaped his trap. To be perfectly honest there were several design flaws that he wasn’t going to admit to and he really couldn’t have cared less if you had exploited them to get away. If you were running through the village, then something was bound to get you eventually. That was what he had figured anyway.

No, Heisenberg was angry because that overgrown, egocentric, glorified vampire bitch had ratted him out to Mother Miranda. He could just imagine the smug way she had said it over the phone. That grin she would have. He wished he could have buried his hammer into her face.

Miranda had expressed her disappointment in him, not that he gave a shit. But it would likely mean that she would watch him for a while, at least while she had time to spare. Preparing that stupid ceremony would take her a few days at the very least. And in that time she could do anything.

He slammed his fist down on the table. With you in Castle Dimitrescu he couldn’t even entertain himself watching you scramble around the village. Couldn’t taunt you. And he didn’t want to risk working on his army, just on the off chance that Miranda caught wind.

He hadn’t even seen you before that confrontation in front of the castle gate, and he just assumed it was blind luck you’d made it that far.

He’d probably never know how you got on in the Castle, because there was no way you were leaving that place alive.

He looked at the yellow jar on his desk, tempted to just throw it and it’s contents into a pit of molten metal. It would be kinder to the kid than whatever Miranda had planned.

***

You had been shoved in the most stereotypical dungeon in the world. It was something straight out of some Frankenstein-ish novel. Bela had left, promising that she would come back soon to retrieve you for dinner. You had given her your most hate filled look, your eyes promising nothing but violence.

That must have been ten minutes ago, and you were furiously searching the cell. You had found a gap in the wall, and in it a crumpled sheet of paper. You straightened it out, beginning to read.

To whomever is trying to escape this place,

I hope this note will be of some assistance. You don’t know me but you will have to trust me if you want to survive.

First, you need to get out of this cell. Look around for the way, get on your hands and knees if you must.

Then, search for the thing you’ll need to

escape. It will be hidden where they’ll

least suspect, soaked in blood.

The rest of the note was illegible, at some point being soaked with dry blood. You hoped that whoever had written it had gotten out.

You took the notes' advice, getting on your hands and knees. There! Under the wooden board attached to the wall there was a hole that you could crawl through. You got on your belly and went through, ending up in the next cell. You tried the door, and to your relief it opened.

You took your gun out of your boot, preparing to go into the dungeon deeper for your way out.

***

Monsters had patrolled the dungeon. Horrible emaciated monsters that held swords. The first one you had encountered held a sword, and you shot it with glee, picking the sword up. A perfect chance to conserve ammo. It was in good condition too. You sliced and hacked your way through, making it to the second part of the dungeon. You could see the stairwell at the end. Your heart soared. At least until you had to wave a fly out of your face.

“I can’t believe Cassandra caused all this mess.”

Bela. Part of you wanted to turn around and fight her, but you were sadistic not stupid. Bullets against a swarm would be pointless. Instead you ran for the stairs, shooting up them until you came to an entrance that was boarded up. Because of course it was. You attempted to hack at the boards with the sword, but it was already too late.

“Where are you going little one?”

“Oh for fucks-”

You turned to be confronted by Bela, her white teeth stark against the drying blood coating the lower half of her face. She picked you up by the neck again, throwing you through the wooden boards. You lost the sword to the far wall, instead bringing out your handgun as she mounted you, desperately trying to inflict some damage on her even when you knew the bullets would be useless. She just laughed at you.

“Bullets cannot harm-”

CRACK.

You both looked off to the side, just in time to see a window shatter and let in all the cold air. She jumped off and you skittered back, getting to your feet. She was. . . solidifying, only a few lone flies breaking away from her before the cold killed them.

And she was angry.

“You stupid-”

You shot her.

She reeled back in pain, screeching. You smiled, and shot her again.

She charged at you, raising her sickle over her head to slice at you. You ducked away from her and grabbed your sword, swinging it to block her next swing. You kicked her in the stomach, putting some distance between the two of you. Then you shot her again. And again. You could tell that she was almost done. One more bullet or swing of the sword and she’d probably shatter.

You put your gun down on a table, the sword following it.

She was doubled over in agony for the moment, but she still managed to look at you with eyes filled with hatred. The perfect mirror of the look you had given her when she had tossed you in a cell. You laughed at her again, the sound ringing right through the room. You didn’t care if it could even be heard throughout the castle. The daughters had a weakness, and if they wanted to fuck around and find out how you could exploit it then that was their problem.

“It’s funny how things just switch around isn’t it?” You asked her between manic bursts of laughter.

You charged at her suddenly, tackling her to the ground. She wasn’t nearly as strong as she had been. She clawed desperately at your thighs, screaming again as the force she was using caused them to begin to crumble. It was childish, but you got a grip on her hair and pulled as hard as you could, laughing at the screams she made as cracks spiderwebbed down from her hairline down to her eyes. Then you reeled your fist back, gave her one final smirk, and punched her in the face. Her head practically exploded into pieces. You felt yourself drop to the floor as most of her crumbled. Except for one thing. The upper half of her torso had crystallized into something beautiful. You picked it up, wondering if the Duke would buy it.

***

As it turned out, the Duke had his own special room in the castle, and he did buy the torso and the sword. You also managed to retrieve your backpack. It turned out that that medicine was bordering on magical, as the only thing left of the horrible bite Cassandra had left was a scar. Even Daniela’s hickeys were gone.

To your chagrin, if you wanted to open those double doors in the hall you were going to need four masks. The Duke provided the first one, The Mask of Sorrow. He had winked at you, telling you that this would avoid another encounter with the Lady. But when you had asked for his explanation about the events in the village, he simply told you he didn’t have it all yet, but he would at your next encounter. You thought that was bullshit. But you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

And now here you were, reaching for the animal's skull off the wall, hoping that maybe it would have the solution to opening that grate without having to replace the mask.

“I was worried my sisters had gotten to you first.”

Fuck. You froze. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She was by the door. You looked around the room, desperate to find a solution. You had only narrowly escaped her getting into the room. Trying to get past her while stuck in here would be impossible. Then you felt it. A draft. There was a gap in the wall being concealed by a bookshelf. You moved it, looking around for Cassandra. She was still by the door, taking her sweet time getting to you. You examined the gap. There was no way this was going to be enough to petrify Cassandra. Then you remembered the weight in your pocket. You had picked it up in the dungeon. A pipe bomb.

You felt the air shift, and had just enough time to duck as Cassandra swung at you. Taking cover on the other side of the room, you threw the bomb and covered your ears. Cassandra screamed at the bite of the cold air, somehow being louder than the initial boom the bomb had made.

“You’ve ruined the hunt!”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you said happily. “I’m having tons of fun.”

You pointed the shotgun at her as she charged, unloading it into her face. She stumbled back. And you did it again, not giving her time to recover. The shotgun was much more powerful than the pistol had been taking care of Bela, so it wasn’t long before Cassandra was at the same stage Bela had been before you had killed her.

“I take it back. That was kind of disappointing. I thought you’d have more in ya.”

And you don’t know if she just realised she was dying, or if she just wanted to kill you so bad that she threw common sense out of the window, but she charged at you with her weapon raised. You didn’t even move out of the way, just caught he raised wrist and squeezed. It crumbled beneath your hands. She tried to hit you with her other wrist only for you to do the same thing.

“Mother!” She cried out with all the emotion of a scared little girl. “Mother!”

You grabbed her by the front of her dress, letting her see into your eyes. Letting her see the toothy grin you were giving her that was more like a snarl. The irony of the situation struck you. Whereas it would have been her eyes brimming with cruelty and madness before, now it was yours. But you had never been afraid. Not for one second. But she was. And it made you grin even wider.

She called out for her mother again as you dragged her to the wall. You kissed her on the nose, giving her a smile that someone might give a lover, and used all your innate anger and cruelty to shove the bitch against the wall.

She shattered, leaving behind only that crystallised torso.

***

His sister had said she would call Miranda when the outsider had been killed. Well, her words were dealt with properly. Emphasis on the properly apparently. Miranda was supposed to let the rest of them know when the outsider had decided to stop being a nuisance and finally bit the dust.

But no call came. From either of them. Hell, Heisenberg hadn’t heard a goddamn thing from anyone. So. . . was the outsider still alive?

He had to admit, he didn’t expect that.

Maybe he needed to change up his expectations.

***

“So you finally came to see me?”

The final daughter. Daniela. You would have preferred not to deal with her right now, given that her mother had just surprised you and evading her through her music hall had been no small task. She had been angry and seething with bloodlust. You supposed she had learned about the deaths of her older daughters. The fact that she had sent Daniela up against you after you had proved that they were practically useless against you wasn’t scoring Dimitrescu any good mother points.

You shot at the window above. But it refused to break, and the swarms had blocked the doors. You looked around, noting that on the other side, on one of the pillars was a handle.

“Everyone always falls for me.”

You ran around her, gripping the handle and swinging it down with all your might. She screamed in agony, running to get out of the direct frozen wind. To your dismay the handle slowly turned up. Who designed this?

She was running through the bookshelves, trying to hide from you. So deranged, but slightly smarter than her sisters it seemed.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I- Why are you doing this?!” you retorted.

You pumped the handle down again before chasing her, shooting her in the back. She darted around a bookcase, circling around you and trying to get the jump on you. But you were ready, giving her another one. You were beginning to get bored of these sisters.

“You three don’t really put up much of a fight do you?”

“I thought you loved me,” she snarled.

“What the fuck has that got to do with anything I just said?”

You shot her again. Then once more for good measure. You got up close and used the butt of your shotgun wo hit her in the stomach, forcing her back.

“I don’t wanna die,” she cried out, almost begging you not to go any further with the tone she was using.

“Well you know, neither did anyone in this village or this castle but shit happens I guess.”

You threw the gun down and got a grip on her throat, dragging her to the handle where you pumped it down again. Her attempts to get away from you and out of the cold were desperate, but you maintained that grip on her neck. Slowly, your grip tightened, and you thought you could see the beginning of tears in her eyes as cracks started to multiply on her throat. You did it slowly, savouring the way her throat gave under your hand. The window was nearly shut now. You blew her a kiss, then you balled your fist, crushing her throat completely.

The window shut.

***

“The entire bloodline of House Dimitrescu is done in by the likes of you?”

You smiled at her, even as she stalked you with her claws out. She had caught you while you were figuring out which mask went where. Luckily, being so big meant she was slow.

“Damn right it is.”

“Have much blood and sweat do you think it took to raise those daughter?” She swiped. “You have incurred an impossible debt!”

The genuine sadness and pain in her voice was something that might have swayed someone else, but not you. Not after the Duke had explained what those monsters in the dungeon had really been. Not when you knew the secret ingredient of that wine. Not when that scream rattled around inside your skull.

“What? You want me to feel sorry for you? Want me to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness while you slice me apart? How many daughters have you murdered and turned to slaves?” You slotted the third mask in before darting just out of her reach. “You didn’t consider how many fathers and husbands you bled dry in your dungeons. Your daughters deserved to die! You deserve to die! None of you get a free pass just because I’d have sex with you!”

She made a noise of disgust and sliced downwards, narrowly missing you. You darted to the last statue, putting the mask in. The door opened and you bolted.

***

You pushed open the coffin, finding an old corpse clutching a beautiful knife. You picked it up, testing the weight. That is, before you were spun around and lifted by the neck again. Evidently this family had a choking kink.

“You ruined everything!” She screamed.

She got ready to plunge her claws deep into your stomach, but you were faster, instead driving the knife into her chest. She screamed, throwing you through the window behind you. You accidentally let go of the knife, and it tumbled off the side of the building.

You looked back at Dimitrescu. She was in pain, and obviously weakening. But large, fleshy wings sprouted out from her back, a tail soon following.

And then she was crashing through the wall, nothing but a female torso and head on the back of what looked like a dragon straight out of one of your nightmares.

“Flesh! Bones! I will devour all of you!”

“Bring it on, bitch!”

***

“Curse you.”

And those were her last words. It hadn’t been easy, but you had done it. And you smiled at her as you did so. Given that same demented smile you’d given her daughters. You still wore it.

You looked around, still half mad from the bloodlust. The only thing of note was a yellow flask, so you snatched it up, grinning even wider as the wall opened into the outside.

***

Dimitrescu was dead. Heisenberg grinned. Well, he certainly didn’t expect to watch you walk out of the castle through the camera he’d placed in the area. He hadn’t even expected you to have lasted five minutes, but evidently you were made of sterner stuff. He was impressed.

You were covered in the dust of her dead daughters, as well as Dimitrescu's own blood. It made your damaged clothes cling to your form, and as you got closer he could see the grin you were wearing, could see that deranged look in your eye. And then you looked up at him. Not just at his camera, but at him. As if you knew he was watching. Your grin turned into something else, and you brought your palm to your mouth, kissed it, and then blew the kiss at him.

He didn’t expect that to get his blood pumping. Didn’t expect watching you walk away coated in blood get it pumping even harder. What was this feeling? It wasn’t fear. It was almost like adrenaline. Almost like-

He looked down at his lap. “Fuck.”

He needed to talk to you. He would talk to you.

Hopefully he could lick the blood off of you after.

[captainimprobable]

Part 4 of That Thing I’ve Been Writing.  This one is VERY MUCH a first draft.  Like, I know I’ve been saying that a lot, but this shit needs EDITING.  I just have no self control and I wanted to share a little of what I’m working on. I hope you like the sneak peek! Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  ~~

They turn fifteen.

 Many things have changed in the few months they’ve been together. It’s easier now, somehow, in a way it wasn’t at the beginning.  

They don’t blush as much anymore, and they hold hands readily and easily.  They kiss each other’s cheeks before they leave a room.  Luz is overwhelmingly, uncontrollably happy.

However. Luz has noticed something, lately.  Something that perplexes and confuses her.

Here’s the deal: Luz really wants to kiss her girlfriend.

It takes her days of getting distracted by Amity’s lips to come to this realization, and when she does, she’s sort of embarrassed.  She knows she has no reason to be.  This is her girlfriend, and girlfriends kiss, right? That’s normal!

But she’s never actually kissed anyone before, and this is Amity, and it’s been months of dating now and how in the world is she supposed to go about this? Does she ask? Does she just lean in? Does she send her a letter that says “Will you kiss me? Check y/n boxes below”?????

She agonizes over this for days, barely paying attention to the planning for their joint birthday party. 

She still hasn’t decided what to do when, before she knows it, it’s time for the party.   Edric and Emira show up with a tub of apple blood, hiding it behind their backs until they realize that Eda has not only already supplied the party with enough to knock out a slitherbeast, but also pregamed so much herself that she is well and truly gone.

The twins give each other a sly grin, leave Eda knocked out on the couch, and run inside.  Before Luz knows what’s happening, Emira is picking her up while Edric grabs Amity and gives her a noogie.  “Happy birthday baby sisters,” Emira croons, while the girls struggle to get free.  “Yeah,” Edric says, messing up Amity’s hair.  “Thanks for being born in the same month so we don’t have to go to two parties.”

Luz laughs, a little embarrassed at being called the twins’ baby sister.  “Thanks, guys,” she says, breaking free of Emira’s hold.  She manages to rescue Amity from Edric’s arms, and the two of them sprint away before they can be grabbed again, the twins’ laughter following them all the way to the door.   

“Sorry about that,” Amity says, rolling her eyes.  “You know how they are.” 

“Uh huh,” Luz gulps, distracted by the way Amity’s hair is curling a little over her ears.  “I know how it is.”

Luckily, Willow and Gus choose that moment to walk inside, and Luz has an ample distraction.  “My friends!” She yells, draping her arms around their necks.  “Welcome!  Also!”  She lowers her voice.  “Did you know that I love you?” 

Willow laughs.   “We know that, Luz.  Wanna know a secret?” She winks.  “We love you, too.”  

“Happy birthday,”  Gus adds, hugging Luz, and then Amity.  “You’re super old now.”

“I know!” Luz says.  “I’m finally at the age that Taylor Swift always prophesied about!” 

Gus nods wisely.  “I know about Taylor Swift.  She’s a powerful warlock from your realm, is she not?”

“She is,” Luz agrees.  

“Happy birthday, Amity.”  Willow hesitates, and then opens her arms.  Amity’s face breaks into a huge smile as she accepts Willow’s hug.  “Thanks,” she says.  “I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Me too.”

Luz is trying not to get emotional, but having so much love surrounding her is making her want to cry.  Plus, seeing Willow and Amity get along so well makes her feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“Are you okay?” Amity whispers in her ear, and Luz jumps.  “Y-yeah, I’m totally fine,” she says, trying to keep her stuttering to a minimum.

“Are you sure? You’ve been acting a little weird for awhile now, and you kind of look like you want to cry.”

Ah, man.  Amity wasn’t supposed to notice that she’s been acting differently.  But at least this question she has an answer for.  “I’m just really happy,” she says truthfully, and Amity smiles.  “Me too,” she says.  “Happy birthday, Luz.”

As Amity walks away to talk to Willow, Luz tries not to stare after her.

She fails.

Amity looks like a goddess tonight.  She always looks good, okay, but something about tonight, under the glow of the fairy lights, surrounded by her friends and family, makes her shine undeniable.  Luz cannot comprehend how everyone isn’t staring at Amity right now.  

She wants to kiss her, right now, in front of everyone, but she feels like Amity might not appreciate that, and besides, Viney is walking in right now and for some reason Emira just spilled her drink all over the floor, and there are more important things to focus on, right?

(What could be more important than kissing Amity?)

She shakes her head.  Not now, Luz.  Not now.

Maybe tonight just isn’t the night, either.

She sighs, but then shakes herself out of it.  This is a party, and she’s going to enjoy it.

~

She doesn’t get to hang out with Amity much that night.  

Her friends all want her attention, and there’s a worrying moment where Eda starts growing some feathers on her arms, but the crisis is averted quickly.  She and King haul Eda safely into her nest, and Luz returns to the party, determined to at least hold Amity’s hand.

But Willow and Gus have started a dance off against Jerbo and Barkus, and there’s no way Luz is going to miss being a part of that.  She sneaks a peek at Amity, who is standing off to the side with her drink, looking content.  They lock eyes for a second and Luz’s breath is taken away. 

This is ridiculous. 

They’ve been dating for months.  This should not still be happening.

But, god, Amity is just so cool, resting an arm nonchalantly on the table, and Luz wants to run over there and-

“Luz, it’s your turn!!!!!” Gus screams in her ear, and the moment is gone again.  

It’s already midnight when she feels a tap on her shoulder.  “Amity!” she yells, and tackles her girlfriend into a hug.  “I haven’t seen you all night!” 

“Woah,” Amity says, trying not to fall over.  “I know, that’s why I’m here.  Could I borrow you for a second? 

Luz’s stomach flips itself over for absolutely no reason.  

“Uh, sure, yeah, what’s up?”

“I just wanna show you something.”

Amity grabs her hand and leads her up the stairs, passing door after door until they reach the one that leads to the roof.

“Why are we-”

“Shhh,” Amity says.  “Just come on!”

Amity doesn’t let go of her hand when they reach the roof.  “Close your eyes,” she instructs.

“Um, Amity,” Luz says.  “We’re like, a lot of feet off the ground.”

“Trust me,” Amity insists, and god help her but Luz does, so she complies.  Amity’s palm is warm in hers as she tugs her over a few feet until finally, she says “open them”.

“What are we-”  Luz falters.  Because there, on the roof, is an honest to god picnic.  Somehow Amity has hauled up a blanket and a basket, and it’s just so cute and cliche that Luz can’t stop the smile taking over her face.

“I figured we wouldn’t have time to talk tonight,” Amity says.  “And...well...I missed you, so-”  she gestures to the picnic.

“This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Luz says, sitting down on one side of the basket.  “I kept wanting to talk to you all night, but there was always something happening!”

“You’re popular,” Amity says simply, and Luz starts laughing before she realizes Amity is being totally serious.  

“Anyway,” Amity says.  “I made you something.”

Luz is really, really hoping it’s not a fairy pie, but instead, Amity pulls out a messy chocolate cupcake.  “Happy birthday,” she says, and Luz practically swoons.  

They share the cupcake, digging into it with messy hands and taking turns pointing out different stars.

“In my world, constellations are symbols for things,” Luz says.

“They are here, too!  For example, that’s the giraffe constellation.  It symbolizes death and destruction.  And that over there is the Titan constellation. It also symbolizes death and destruction!”

“Romantic,” Luz jokes.  

“I know, right?” Amity responds, sounding completely serious.  Luz has to stifle the urge to laugh.  She sneaks a peek at Amity and, oh, wow.  Her face is glowing in the moonlight.  She looks bright and bubbly and all the things she really is when her guard isn’t up.  Her eyes are shining and Luz could swear she’s never seen anything more beautiful in her fifteen years of life.

She needs to do this now.  There’s no better time, and even if there was, she simply can’t stop herself.  The words just fall from her mouth like leaves from a tree, but a lot more quickly and nervously.  

“Can I kiss you?” 

Amity stops mid-sentence, mouth still hanging open and finger pointing at the sky.  She blinks.  “What did you say?”

“I-”  Luz is losing her nerve really quickly, but before it’s gone completely she gathers up the rest of her courage and says “I really want to kiss you.  Can I?”

“You...you want to kiss me?”  Amity’s voice is full of wonder and her face is bright red. 

“Wait, why do you sound surprised? You’re my girlfriend, of course I want to kiss you!” Luz scrambles onto her knees and searches Amity’s face.

“It’s just...it’s been so long, and it never happened, so I kind of thought maybe you didn’t want to or you were uncomfortable or whatever, which would be totally fine, by the way-”

“Oh my gosh we’re both so stupid,” Luz smacks a hand to her face.  “I never kissed you because I thought you didn’t want to kiss me!”

“How could I not want to kiss you! Have you seen yourself????”

Amity’s hands are covering her eyes.  She’s clearly embarrassed at having admitted that.

Luz takes a deep breath and gently pries Amity’s hands away from her face.  Amity’s eyes instantly find Luz’s, and there’s a determination there that wasn’t there before.  They both feel it, this thing happening between them, different from what they’ve been feeling for the past few months.  It feels like every moment of their relationship has been leading up to this moment.  

“Can I-”  Luz starts, but is interrupted by Amity’s very enthusiastic “Yes!!!!”

Luz bites her lip, takes a deep breath, and leans in.

She closes her eyes.

The kiss feels a little like the first time she did magic, but light glyphs have nothing on this.  The butterflies in her stomach have migrated to her chest, and they’re fluttering hard enough to rival her heartbeat.  

She can’t believe this is happening.  

Their noses bump together uncomfortably, but she doesn’t care, she doesn’t care, because this is her first kiss and it’s with Amity and she’s flying flying flying.

They pull apart, but not too far.  

“Wow,” Amity whispers, and Luz nods.  “Yeah,” she says.  “Wow.”

“How have we not been doing that the whole time?”

“I don’t know,” Luz says. “But I’m more than happy to make up for lost time.” 

She leans in again.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Can we see what happens when Zedaph is finally found after being left in Evil X’s lair?

okay so this is the newest ask in my inbox but i’m sorry, i couldn’t resist doing it now lol i’m on a Zedaph angst hype train asdfghjkl

Requests are still open! Please read pinned post before requesting. 

This one is a sequel! Read the first part here.

...

  Zedaph’s stomach is churning painfully, aching for food. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here but he does know it’s been at least a whole day. His mouth and throat are dry and scratchy; there’s nothing for him to drink in here either. And after having spent most of his energy crying his eyes out in the first hours of his confinement, he’s becoming dangerously dehydrated. 

  His hands are pale and bruised, and his knuckles are even bleeding in a few places, from his various attempts to break down the door. But without a pickaxe, he can’t even make a crack in it. He left most of his stuff behind when he came on patrol with EX, so he has nothing useful. 

  His heart aches when he thinks of EX. He trusted them so much. There was nothing he wouldn’t have done for them, but clearly, they never felt the same. They just used him and tossed him aside when they had to, leaving him to rot in a place where his friends will never find him. Or, at least, it will take a very long time. 

  Wincing, he wraps his mask around his actively bleeding knuckles. He feels sick at the sight of the reminder of how naive he’d been, but he has to admit, using it as a makeshift bandage is helping ease the pain a little. 

  He leans back against the wall and closes his eyes. Maybe it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet. Time is passing weirdly here. And he certainly loves food enough that going only a day without it would cause his stomach to hurt this much. 

  How much longer will he survive…?

  In the distance, he hears a voice. But does he actually hear it, though? Or is it just a hallucination? It must be fake, because it’s someone calling his name and there’s no way anyone has found him here after only a day. 

  But then he hears footsteps too.

  “Zedaph! Are you down here?! Please, answer me!”

  Zedaph blinks weakly. “Tango…?”

  The footsteps stop. 

  “Zed! Is that you? Say something else!”

  Zedaph jerks to his feet and almost immediately falls over again, weak from lack of nutrition. Thankfully, the noise he makes when he hits the door is enough to alert his best friend to his whereabouts, and Tango’s worried face quickly appears in the barred window in the door. “Oh my God! Zed! You really are down here! Are you okay?!” 

  Zedaph’s sudden movement has drained all his energy. It’s all he can do to force himself to stay awake and not pass out. 

  “Zed!” Tango calls again, desperation audible in his voice. “Gah, there’s no lever or button or anything…!”

  No lever? EX must have taken it with them, Zedaph realises. 

  “Zed, get away from the door! I’m gonna break it down!”

  Zedaph weakly pushes himself to the side, safely out of the way. 

  Outside, Tango takes a deep breath and throws his entire weight against the door. It creaks, but doesn’t break or even crack. 

  “Damnit, I need a pick,” he mutters, taking out his communicator.

  One quick message and five excruciating minutes later, Tango hears footsteps on the stairs. He automatically tenses up but relaxes quickly when he sees Impulse burst into the room, pickaxe in hand. 

  “He’s in there,” Tango says worriedly, pointing at the iron door. “I didn’t bring a pick.”

  Brow furrowed with worry, Impulse rushes over to the door and attacks it. Thanks to his netherite pickaxe, the door breaks within seconds, allowing Tango to squeeze past Impulse and dash into the cell.

  Zedaph is lying propped up against the wall, still dressed in his superhero outfit. His skin is pale and he’s noticeably thinner than the last time Tango saw him, but that’s no surprise. He’s clearly unconscious, his chest slowly rising and falling as he takes shallow breaths. 

  “Zed, can you hear me?” Tango kneels down beside his best friend, trying not to panic. “Zed!”

  But Zedaph doesn’t respond.

  “We need to get him back to his base,” Impulse says shakily from behind him. “I’ll call the others and get them to help us.”

  “No, not his base,” responds Tango immediately. “I want to take him to mine. I need him somewhere I know he’ll be safe.”

  Impulse hesitates, before reassuringly gripping his friend’s shoulder. “Okay.”

…

  When Zedaph opens his eyes, he finds himself in a room he knows well: the guest bedroom at Tango’s base. He’s stayed here many a time, sometimes when he and Tango have a sleepover, sometimes when he has a nightmare and doesn’t want to be alone. 

  Letting out a quiet groan, he pushes himself into a sitting position and notices that not only are his hands bandaged but there’s a weird kind of glyph around his wrist. As soon as he registers this, he realises he doesn’t feel hungry or thirsty anymore. That must be related to the thing on his wrist. 

  As he’s inspecting it more closely, the door opens and he glances up sharply. 

  “Oh!” Tango yelps. “Zed, you’re awake!”

  He and Impulse dash to either side of the bed and sit down; the former on the side of the bed and the latter on a chair next to it. 

  “Hey.” Impulse’s pale face holds a wide smile. “How are you feeling?”

  “Um… weird,” replies Zedaph truthfully. “What’s this thing on my wrist?”

  “That’s a command bracelet X gave you,” says Tango. “You were in such a bad way when we found you that X had to use it to get your nourishment levels up. He said you might have ended up in a permanent coma if he hadn’t.”

  “Wow… I can’t believe I managed to get so malnourished in only a day,” Zedaph murmurs. 

  Tango blinks. “A day? ONE day?”

  “Y-Yeah. Why...?”

  Tango and Impulse exchange a glance.

  “Buddy…” Impulse clears his throat. “You were missing for just under a week.”

  Zedaph’s eyes slowly widen. “Wh-What?! A week?! H-How could I have been gone that long…?!”

  “I don’t know, but Xisuma said it’s a miracle there’s no permanent damage to your body or code from going that long without food or water,” says Tango shakily.

  After a moment, Zedaph squeezes his eyes shut, releasing fresh tears. “Why did it take you a week to find me?”

  Tango flinches, while Impulse takes his hand and grasps Zedaph’s shoulder with his other hand. “We got a message from your communicator,” Impulse replies slowly. “Saying you would be busy doing stuff on your own for a while and you didn’t want anyone to disturb you for at least a week.”

  Zedaph takes a moment to digest that but when he does, his heart skips a beat. EX said they had taken Zedaph’s communicator. They must have sent that message so that it would take even longer for him to be found. How could EX be so cruel to him…?

  “Th-That wasn’t me,” he rasps. 

  “Well, luckily, I’m super bad at following instructions,” says Tango with a weak smile. “I came over to see you after four days but I found your base empty. I dunno why, but I got a bad feeling so I looked for you in all your normal places and when I found nothing, I alerted the other Hermits and we started a server-wide hunt.” His smile drops. “I-I’m so sorry it took us this long to find you. We never expected to find you in a place like that.” 

  “If you feel up to talking, how DID you end up in there?” Impulse asks slowly. 

  Zedaph hesitates, his stomach starting to churn again. “I… I’m not ready to tell anyone what happened yet. I’m still… processing it, myself.”

  “Of course.” Tango takes his best friend’s hand. “You should get some rest.” 

  “But first, I gotta ask you a really serious question,” says Impulse sternly.

  Zedaph gazes at him nervously. “O-Okay.”

  “Are you… Worm Man?”

  After a moment, Zedaph spots the sparkle in Impulse’s eyes and has to laugh. His friends join in, and for a minute or so, the three just laugh together, taken by the overwhelming relief that Zedaph is back safely. Those seven days may have gone by in a blur for Zedaph but the last three days were the longest and most painful of Tango’s and Impulse’s lives. 

  But now, it’s finally over. 

  Zedaph is home.

[xxtraord1nary]

POV

Fandom: Open Heart

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x f!mc (Charlotte West)

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Constructive criticism is always welcome! No hate please and thank you for reading reblog and comment if you enjoyed.

Summary: A very naughty and heavily pregnant Charlotte much prefers her handsome lovers point of view.

Warnings: Strong Language, Fellatio, Sex, and a tad of dark humor. If that makes you uncomfortable please exit stage left because you’ve been warned. Overall vulgar.

Tag list: @katkart122 @missmiimiie @openheartfanfics

“Tobias, I am not playing with you get that damn camera out of my face! It's way too early for your shit.” Charlotte snapped whilst swatting at the pest she called a husband as he continued to record his very moody wife with his old camera he found a couple a months ago when Char ordered him with a broom in hand to go “clean that damn garage” or he could sleep on the couch for a month, so that being all the motivation he needed Tobias got to it with vigor.

“You're really good at this whole black mama thing Charlie.” he teases with a shit eating grin plastered on his stupidly perfect face. “Keep it up and I’ll be a single black mama if you don’t quit.” she grunted while taking down her plaited kinky tendrils that in the morning tended to have a mind of their own.

“Now why would you say that?”

“Because I’m going to kill you” she said whilst continuing to grumpily apply toothpaste to her electric toothbrush.

“Really talking like that when I’m recording, then the police will immediately know who to be held responsible in the case of my untimely demise, Charlie.” he further ribbed while shaking his head playfully behind the lens.

“Screw you and the police Carrick.” she spat.

“Babe, you know all you have to do is corporate and let me get my daily picture of you and our little Tiny Tia. So get with the program.” he chided with a small but genuine smile as he further gazed at the love of his life and their little one growing inside her very pregnant belly.

“Alright two things: that name is super cute and I’m surprised you came up with that yourself.”

“I’m good for something, see?” to which she answered with a ‘meh’ and shrug of her shoulders.

“I’m offended.” and again another answer in the form of shrugged shoulders and a hard roll of the eyes.

“Now for two, why on earth do you need a picture every day?” she whined with tired eyes.

“This is our first child out of many, I need to capture every moment. Now lift up your shirt!” he confidently proclaimed.

She didn’t want to burst his little bubble but if he thought for a second she was pushing another of his big headed babies out of her lady parts he was sorely mistaken. ‘What the hell is “out of many” anyways?’ she pondered with a perplexed expression. “Absolutely not, I look like a gross ragamuffin.”

He sighed, “Charlie lift up your shirt or I’m gonna hold out.” he asservated pleased with her shocked expression. “Oh yeah, hold out what exactly?” she challenged with raised eyebrows. He knew the denial of sex would be the thing to do it for her. Already she had an insatiable sexual appetite hence here they were here six months pregnant, but pregnancy hormones only amplified that. “You really don’t wanna play those games with me Tobias, or you’ll find yourself handcuffed to bed and taken by force.” she lightheartedly fired back. “I’m quite intrigued as long as I can return the favor.” he huskily dropped an octave and whispered to her. She shivered and scoffed “You a silly little freak.” with a laugh.

“Honestly Charlie, all this is unnecessary as all I wanted was my pictures and could have been going about my business by now but someone refused to get along with the picture. Pun heavily intended.” he sighed.

“Okay I’ll bite, but what are you even doing with these pictures?”

“Well, if you must know. I take your picture or video then I pleasure myself.��� he sexily drawled “then upload it online to make a virtual scrapbook.” he happily finished. “Why am I not surprised?” she chuckled as she shoved his laughing form. “Wait, you still masturabte?” she inquisitively questioned.

“Well, yeah sometimes you're in a horrifying mood and I’d rather work with what I’ve got than you ripping my head off, do you?”

“Actually no, not since I met you at least.” she truthfully noted, as her hands just didn’t do the job since Dr. Tobias Carrick waltzed into her life with his devilishly handsome face and rocked her world.

“I’m doing my job right then.” he pressed with a smirk. “Mhm, too right if you ask me.” she quipped pointing to her very round and beautiful stomach adorned with barely visible glittery stretch marks that only magnified her beauty and strength. “What’s on your mind now?” he pried while she poked at her bump in the mirror. “Me and Sienna, Aurora, and Jackie are going out to Carson Beach and I can’t decide whether to wear a two or one piece.”

“Two pieces of course so I can enjoy the fruits of my labor.” he smiled proudly.

“Four minutes hardly constitutes at “labor” she mocked with air quotes. He smacked his teeth in annoyance, “If you loved me you’d do this for me.” he pleaded. And now it was her turn to kiss her teeth, “Fine!” she huffed. “But leave my face out of it, I look icky in the mornings.” to which he eagerly disagreed and pecked her lips but not before muttering something along the lines of “stunning”.

“Alright, I’ll give you your little video but you have to do something for me.” she suggestively proposed. To which he readily agreed as he loved her ‘just been fucked’ afterglow. He then turned off the old camcorder and attempted to put it away but she fingered the loops of his jeans “Uh uh turn it back on.”

He was sure his eyes were completely bulging out of his skull and managed to mutter a “Charlie a-are you serious?” in his daze. She nodded and sunk down to her knees as she slowly tugged down his boxers and elicited a low groan from him.

In the lens of the camera she expertly handled his member with care and tenderly began to stroke him giggling at his floored expression. “You ready for me, Tobias?” she tantalizingly asked not ceasing her stroking. Receiving an eager nod and thumbs up from the camera she smirked at her success in making the talkative bastard speechless. Expertly she teased his large in girth and lengthy member with the tip of her tongue before guiding him into her mouth as she had done tons of times before sucking her mans dick like a woman starved.

“Oh god, slow down baby.” Tobias pitifully groaned while screwing his mind down as the love of his life expertly worked him. “You wanna be inside me, baby?” she whispered in a sultry tone against the head of his member cursing a pleasant shiver to rack his body. He didn’t answer but instead made a gesture behind the camera for me to turn around. He thanked the heavens above for the easy access and the fact that she was wearing one of his shirts and abandoned underwear long ago. She hissed as his large strong hand cam crashing down on her bare ass, and soothed the pleasant sting with a soft rub. “Perfect.” he murmured as he continued his caressing of her more than generous backside. “How’s the view?” she asked with a wink through the mirror.

And with a quick and brutal thrust he was inside leaving her panting mess on the cold surface of the bathroom countertop as she moaned slowly.

“Amazing.” he quickly answered before he began his unrelenting deep thrust. “Deeper” she moaned out in the air. Resting on her palms and easing away from the countertop she made eye contact with a chipper Tobias as he violently thrust into her and she had to brace herself. “Where are you going Char?” Tobias teased as she stood on her tiptoes desperately in an unsuccessful attempt of creating space between them.

“Damn I know I told him deeper, but now he's just showing out for the camera.” she thought while groaning as he hit a spot inside her making let out a loud guttural moan. He made the most out of his opportunity reaching to rub her clit. Moaning even louder he soon used one hand to grip her shoulder as he angled the camcorder downwards to catch sight of his pelvis meeting her dripping cunt. Closing her eyes for some reprieve she opened them to meet Tobias’s eyes in the mirror to find him damn near gnawing through his lip to hold back his loud groans.

Her release soon crep up on her and she moaned loudly, “Baby, I-” to which he cut her off as he sped up his tireless thrust, “Me too. Don’t wait for me.” and with that she came harder than ever and fell back on the counter, a panting mess and sweating bullets and winced as he pulled out of her. She mistakenly thought he was going to clean her only for him to zoom in the camera to get a close up of her used pussy with his milky cum dripping out of her.

Once he caught his breath he chuckled “That was amazing and it wasn’t even my birthday.” to which she rolled her eyes with a dazed expression and a small smile on her face since enjoying the after effects of their morning activities.

“Yeah yeah you better delete that.” she warned turning on the shower.

“Uh-Uh Charlie we just made a porno, I’m downloading this to my USB and keeping it in my safe.” he remarked while being transfixed at the camcorder in his hands causing her to snort with laughter.

“Whatever, if it gets leaked I better get paid for it.” she declared while leaving to her shower leaving Tobias in a cheerful fit of post orgasmic laughter.

Fin.

A/N: That was nasty and you read it so you’re nasty too.

[ptergwen]

truth serum

a/n: ok ok ok i've had to post this four times now because it won’t show up in tags for some reason? i’m so :/ tumblr pls stop setting me up bruh. but moving on here’s a summary of the original request and i hope ya like

warnings: little bit of cursing here and there

-

when tom asked if you‘d be interested in going to a comic con with him, there was only one answer: yes. you‘ll take every chance you get to see him in his element. you’re looking forward to checking out some of the cool exhibits they’ll have — and people. comic con is a safe space for all your nerdiness. so really, both of you will be in your element that day.

the only thing you’re uneasy about is tom’s fans. you have no idea how they’ll react to seeing you by his side for hours on end. paparazzi caught you together once or twice, but you couldn’t tell much from their blurry pictures. that didn’t stop everyone from talking.

you’ve been named his new “mystery girl,” and tom still hasn’t adressed the whole situation. no matter how much he loves his fans, he’s not willing to spill every single detail of his personal life. spending time with his girlfriend doesn’t need some big explanation to please the public.

this is the first time you know for sure that you’ll be seen with him. comic cons are huge, and somebody always has their phone out at these things. you don’t want the fans to end up hating you for being there, or tom for bringing you. the way he sees it, they should just be happy he’s happy. anyone who isn’t never truly cared in the first place.

tom usually arrives early to go over his schedule and any last minute details. this time, he’s sleeping in a few hours extra with you. no one knows better than him that all day events can be draining. he wants you well rested and feeling good for it. since people are already at the venue, you’re using a different entrance to avoid getting mobbed.

“stay close, okay? i’m not sure what it’s like in there yet. might be a few people by the door, or a crowd.” you’re walking hand in hand with tom through the back lot. he feels you tense up next to him at the mention of a crowd. they overwhelm the hell out of you, and you’re suddenly feeling way underprepared for this.

“but we’re going in through the back. how are they gonna know that?” you grip his hand tighter without realizing. tom half smirks at your question and leads you over to the door. “my fans figure everything out... almost everything. you ready?”

shrugging your shoulders, you lean into his side for comfort. “sort of. i’m just getting nervous about being around so many people.” “i know, baby. not gonna lie, it’s pretty scary at first. but i’ll be with you the whole time.” he presses a quick kiss to the side of your head. you do feel better knowing he won’t leave you alone when you get inside.

“just try turning your nerves into excitement. it works for me every time. “i’ll do my best. i guess we can go in for real now.” tom’s thumb brushes over yours reassuringly, looking at you once more for any signs of doubt before he opens the door.

only a couple of fans notice tom is there, so it’s not as hectic as you thought it would be. he waves to them and says hi, a smile lighting up his face. you chew your lip nervously and let him take you to where he needs to be. obviously, you get a few stares. some pointing, some whispering. they’re all things that come with being pressed into tom holland in front of thousands of people.

tom brings you over to the check in area and gives both of your names. a woman with a headset on hands him two ID cards. he thanks her before pulling you aside so you two can have a moment of privacy.

“how is it so far? feeling okay?” his voice is soft unlike the yelling around you, which is nice. tom slips the lanyard with the ID over your head. “i’m getting used to it. i don’t know how you do this almost every day,” you admit, tugging on his own lanyard that he’s holding. he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“i’ll tell you what, it’s a lot easier when you’re with me,” he mumbles into your ear, using that as a way to subtly leave a kiss to the skin. the little things like that are what will keep you together throughout the day.

a man with a headset and planner comes up to tom. why are so many people wearing headsets? he reads off tom’s plans for today, then ushers the two of you over to do meet and greets once tom has everything down. tom already called and explained that you’d be joining him, so he had it arranged for you to sit with the photographer and watch.

that’s definitely going to get people curious. he doesn’t mind too much, as long as it makes the experience more comfortable for you.

“i’ll be right over here. you’ll tell me if you need anything, yeah?” tom gazes out at the long line of fans waiting to see him, meeting your eyes after. “don’t worry about me. go give your fans some hugs.” you squeeze his hand and smile to let him know you’re okay. he smiles back even bigger before going over to greet the first person they send over.

this set up is way better than what you’d expected. you get a front row seat watching tom do silly faces and poses, and he can check in with you from time to time. there’s the occasional “who is that?” or “is it true that you’re dating her?” question from someone nosy.

tom responds with something along the lines of “that’s y/n. she’s a really lovely girl. she’s super awesome,” followed by a wink only for you to see. you find yourself having to hide your blushing face from all of his antics.

after about two hours, tom gets a break from photo ops. he decides to use the time to do whatever you choose, since you’ve been watching him for a while. you just walk around until there’s an announcement that a hypnotist show is about to start, and anyone can attend. you’ve never seen people be hypnotized in person, and it sounds like it could be fun.

tom lets you pick the seats. you end up towards the front for a closer look. his hand rests on your thigh as soon as you’re both seated, missing being able to touch you all day. you lace your fingers with his and watch as the show starts.

you’re both having a good time, laughing along at all the different segments. the guy hosting it is really entertaining. “now, let’s move onto a part of the show i like to call ‘truth serum.’ it’s simple. i’ll choose a member from the audience and get them to spill their guts for all of you, about anything i ask. who shall it be?” he rubs his chin and looks around the room.

he makes eye contact with people around you. you’re regretting getting seats in the third row. you pray he won’t call you up, but that would be too convenient. “ah!” he claps his hands together, gesturing to you. your mouth runs dry. “thanks for volunteering, come on up!”

you look at tom, silently asking if you should. “go on. i kind of wanna see this,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you devilishly. clenching your jaw, you walk past him and onto the stage. the hypnotist taps a chair for you to sit. you just had to be the lucky person he chose. “can we get a round of applause for...” he holds his microphone down to you.

“y/n,” you say into it, your voice coming out shaky. there are at least two hundred people staring up at you right now. “y/n!” he repeats. “everyone put your hands together for this brave soul.” the audience claps, tom cheering the loudest among them all.

“so, y/n. you seem excited to be up here,” the man jokes. tom watches with amusement as you give an unsure smile at the audience. “is it that obvious?” you get a few laughs. maybe this won’t be the train wreck you’re anticipating.

“extremely. y/n, i want you to look at your right hand for me.” he takes a step back, you doing as he says. “focus on your fingers and how they’re curling towards you. keep focusing. notice how you’re feeling more and more relaxed.”

everything he’s saying is actually happening. wanting to remember this, tom takes out his phone and starts recording. “bring your hand over to your forehead. let yourself feel the skin to skin contact. just like that.” you’re starting to feel sleepier. “and close your eyes.” the hypnotist snaps, and there’s silence throughout the auditorium. “you’re in a deep sleep. well done.”

you’re completely passed out with your head hanging low. everyone claps again, gasping and chatting to each other. tom is one of the gaspers. “y/n, you just guzzled a whole can of truth serum. you’re an open book. you love to share. when i snap again, you’ll wake up and answer whatever i ask you. truthfully,” the hypnotist tells you.

he waits a moment, then snaps his fingers. your head immediately snaps up. more gasps. tom puts his hand over his mouth, muffling his laughter at whatever you’re about to say.

“good morning, y/n. how are you doing?” “stiff. my neck hurts a lot for some reason,” you answer honestly, rubbing the back of it. the hypnotist has a smug grin on his face. “very good. we’re going to start off with some basic questions to see where you’re at. they mirror the five senses. y/n, what’s your favorite thing to hear?”

“my boyfriend’s voice. oh my god, and he has the cutest hiccup laugh,” you clasp your hands under your chin. tom is glad his phone is hiding his face so no one can see his cheeks turning pink. “hiccup laugh?” the hypnotist makes a face. “it gets stuck in his throat sometimes. it’s actually so cute.”

“what about your favorite smell?” “oh, that’s an easy one. sandalwood.” you casually reveal to the audience. “tell us why you like sandalwood so much, y/n,” the hypnotist prompts you. “it’s the scent of shampoo my boyfriend uses.” tom practically melts when he catches on. all your favorite things so far are related to him.

“i think we should skip ahead and talk about that boyfriend of yours. you seem to really love him, huh?” “more than anything. if you were planning to ask about anything else that’s my favorite, i’d say him.” there’s a big “awwww” from the whole audience, tom included.

“isn’t that sweet? where is your boyfriend right now, y/n? i’m sure he’d want to hear this.” “he just did, he’s in the audience.” you tell the hypnotist as if he should already know. tom’s lovestruck smile fades away. he hopes the hypnotist realizes it’s too personal to make you keep talking about something like this.

you have no control over what you’re saying, and it’s not going to end well. “why don’t you point him out for us so we can give him a big round of applause?” scanning around for tom with bright eyes, you get out of your seat. you point at him. “he’s right there.”

the whole audience turns to look at who you’re pointing to. tom lowers his phone, his mouth open in shock. everyone starts shouting as soon as they notice it’s tom. you’re confused over what the big deal is, since you’re still not fully yourself. the hypnotist realizes the mess he just caused, quickly sitting you down again to bring you out of it.

“y/n, i’m going to snap again. when you wake up this time, all the truth serum will be out of your system,” he says just to you over the noise, tom sinking down in his seat to avoid questions. the man snaps his fingers. there’s silence like the first time, everyone waiting to see what you’ll say.

you have no memory of anything that happened a few seconds ago. all the eyes on you are freaking you out. “wh- what did i say?” you ask him, biting down hard on your lip. his eyes dart over to tom. he speaks to you without the microphone. “you told the audience about your boyfriend.” it takes a second for you to register what he said. then you see tom down low in his chair, and you’re humiliated.

for yourself, but mostly him. you can’t believe you exposed your relationship in front of all these people. you run off the stage and out of the auditoruim, too embarrassed to say anything else. tom doesn’t hesitate to chase after you.

you’re breathing hard and fast, stopping somewhere there aren’t too many people around. your mind is racing while you try to figure out what’s going to happen next. someone puts a hand on your shoulder. it’s tom. he turns you around to face him.

“fuck, i- i’m so sorry. i don’t know what was going through my head, i shouldn’t have talked about any of that stuff. this is gonna be a nightmare for you,” you spit out all at once. tom only pulls you to his chest. he rubs circles around your back, trying to calm you down.

“it’s not your fault, angel. you didn’t have a choice about saying those things. you know that, right?” huffing, you hide your face in tom’s chest. “but still. i exposed us and i exposed you and now everyone knows something you didn’t want them to. you should hate me right now.” his lips press into a deep frown at what you’re saying. he rests his chin on your head and sighs.

“baby, i’m not mad. the only reason i wanted us to be a secret was for you.” you look up at him hesitantly, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “so i didn’t destroy your whole career in two seconds?” “of course not. there have been way worse things i’ve had to deal with than publicly dating my really lovely, super awesome girlfriend. this won’t be easy, but i promise we’ll get through it together.”

you cheer up a bit hearing him repeat his words from earlier, nodding as you let yourself process everything.

“do you think anyone got me on video? or will they just post about what i said and everyone will believe them?” “i personally recorded the whole thing. not sure about the rest of the audience though,” tom proudly admits to you, making you groan into his chest. “great. that means we should probably say something before the twisted versions of the story come out,” you reason.

he considers it for a moment, and you can see when a lightbulb go off in his head. “what if i officially introduce you to some fans at my next round of photo ops? tell them about us, see how it goes. then we can decide what our next move is.”

it’s a huge relief that he’s taking this slow and giving you a say on how to go public. feeling brave, you peck his lips as a thank you. he’s surprised at first, but kisses back. he can finally see why those annoying pda couples exist. his arm takes its place around your shoulders again, yours going around his waist this time.

“let’s go share our not so secret relationship with the world.”

[theres-no-protocol-for-this]

A Little Bit Like Home

Super self-indulgent fic about murderbots and home, and I’m not sure what I think about it. Yeah, I have no idea where my brain came up with this.

"Tada!"

Amena spread her arms wide and gestured toward a doorway, so I looked inside. It was a neat little room on the first floor of a two-story home, tucked away from the rest of the living space but still a part of the overall structure. Like many buildings on Preservation, this one was haphazardly put together, and yet somehow, it felt like a... home.

"It's for you," she explained.

I was so stunned I actually turned and looked at her. "Why?"

"You need someplace to call yours, you know." Amena smiled patiently at me and looked at the wall behind me. "ART and I discussed it over this last semester. When I was getting ready to move back home." She gestured toward the room again. "Take a look. Oh, and we installed a security system here. You're welcome to connect to it. ART made some updates that it said you might like."

Inside, the small room looked cozy. It reminded me of the cabins on ART's crew deck. The dimensions were similar, as was the minimalist aesthetic. A large display surface hung against the far wall, and a comfortable lounge chair sat facing it. There was a fancy, mobile repair-and-resupply unit tucked underneath, the kind I liked. Clothes—carbon copies of what I usually wore—hung in a locker-sized closet.

The walls were painted a dark shade of blue. Dim, diffuse lighting set around the ceiling provided just enough illumination that a human would have no trouble navigating the room. If I had to pick a space to live in, this one would be at the top of the list.

Amena knew what I liked, I guess.

And her new security system was great, too. I started tinkering with it before I realized that it had been configured with me in mind. ART had added code to recognize me and give me low-level control of its functions. It had access to a dozen cameras spread throughout the house.

"Why?" I asked again.

"Like I said," Amena reiterated, "because you need someplace to be."

"Was I in the way before?"

The human shook her head, and ART—who was riding shotgun in my feed— said, "You don't have a home right now. Not the way other people do."

"So?"

Amena smiled again and took a deep breath like she'd been preparing this answer for a little while. "Every time you come back from a mission," she said quietly, "you have to find a place to stay. And yeah, sometimes Second Mom's home, or maybe Ratthi is back from whatever conference. And Arada is always happy to see you. But those places aren't your home. They're just rooms, and you know it."

"Rooms are OK," I said defensively.

"Sure, but SecUnit, you're allowed more than just a room."

I stood there, feeling welcome and scared at the same time. Amena added, "ART and I both think you're not the sort of person to settle down by yourself."

A lot was going on in my head, and I wasn't sure I could even sort through it right now. Over the last few years, I'd gotten used to complex emotional reactions, or so I thought. 

"Want to see what else is inside?" ART asked.

"How would you know what's in there?"

The transport laughed at me. "I helped pick out most of the furniture."

"Why?"

"Because," ART said unhelpfully. It was also playing the central theme from Sanctuary Moon in the background of my feed. "There's a long-distance comms unit on the roof, so we can always stay in touch."

As it turned out, they'd made the room feel a lot like one of ART's cabins, complete with a weapons locker built into one of the walls. Somehow, seeing the locker made me feel welcome in a way nothing else could. 

"When you're here on Preservation, this is home," Amena said. "If you want it to be."

"I do." My organic neural tissue fumbled around with more complicated emotions I couldn't hope to name. Fuck it. I said, truthfully, "I've thought about something... something like this."

"We know. We did some research," the human explained. "I talked to Three. Well, I asked a lot of questions. I think it was annoyed by the time I was done, but we figured it out." She paused and licked her lips. I saw her through one of the cameras. "Three didn't know what to do about home, either. Did you know that?"

I nodded because, yeah, I knew.

"When it told us the problem, ART came up with some suggestions. Some of them worked. And we thought it might be a little bit similar for you."

"What did it say?"

"That SecUnits aren't made to settle down, that it's a new experience." Amena stepped into the room and sat down on the couch. "We have theories about conditioned behaviour. But none of that matters as much as making you comfortable, whatever that looks like."

I'm sure my face was making some expression I would later regret, but I didn't even want to look. "I... um..."

"Come on," Amena called out. "Have a seat and enjoy your fancy new TV. How about an episode of Sanctuary Moon? I'm sure ART would love to join you. As would I."

I sat down on the same couch. 

Three had brought up the idea of home several times over the last year. We weren't programmed to need actual sanctuary. A cubicle was plenty. So, settling down had proven difficult for it. In the end, Arada and Overse had invited Three into their home, and now it lived and traveled with them fulltime. 

It had asked me what I wanted, whether I would be upset that it had taken a potential job.

But I had ART and was about to leave on a mission, so why would it matter? SecUnits are interchangeable, and I'm not amazing at my job. 

Except, it turns out, we're not actually interchangeable. Not anymore. I liked working with ART, taking care of its students and crewmembers, and I didn't want to go with Arada when she offered. I wouldn't have been happy doing what Three was right now. 

And I liked spending time with ART.

"Tell me what you're thinking." Amena smiled again like she saw something familiar on my face. "Without a filter."

"I'm scared."

"Is this too much?"

"It's a lot."

She sent me a brief image of holding hands and asked for permission. When I nodded, she reached over and took my hand. 

"One step at a time. That's what Second Mom would say."

ART added, "I'm turning on Sanctuary Moon." And your performance rating is dropping.

I can see that, asshole.

Just saying. And it's not because Amena's holding your hand.

No, it wasn't. Fuck. I wanted to tell the transport to shut up and mind its own business, but that seemed wrong all of a sudden. It had worked with Amena to make this safe space for me. And it had basically reserved one of its cabins for my comfort. And we were friends. Or something.

The intro to my favorite episode began to play. I tried to pay attention, but there was too much going on in my head, where most of my problems reside. Lately, she and ART both had started asking me to talk without a filter, to just say what I was thinking. 

I was beginning to understand why.

"Having a permanent room feels like something very human."

Amena nodded and frowned. "It's definitely something humans value. Personal, private space is essential to us. Second Mom says it's because we value control in our environment. But, I think it's not so much human as a hallmark of personhood. A person is entitled to space they have control over. It doesn't have to be a room or even a locker." She paused and tilted her head, a sign that she was thinking deeply about something. "It's a way of anchoring ourselves to something more permanent."

Remember what Dr. Baradwaj said, ART reminded me. 

"Constructs heal, just like humans do," she'd told me.

Our minds can be broken, and they can be put back together again, though never exactly the same as before. Permanence could be part of the healing process—no one knew for sure, not when only a few dozen free SecUnits were wandering around, but it seemed likely. Construct mental health was an emerging field at the Pansystem University of New Tidelands. 

[onyourzeus]

• the answer | psj

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: the answer pairing: park sungjin (of day6) & you genre: FLUFF, non-idol!au words: 2.7k

author’s note: requested by this anon for a pregnant s/o headcanon with sungjin. 

truthfully, this prompt is very new to me and at first, i thought i wouldn’t be able to write something. but i think i tried? i hope it is still enjoyable! (i have been binging sungjin compilation vids recently... i am in deep)

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

sungjin is the most animated husband to a pregnant partner you’ve ever seen

and you have a handful of your friends who have gone through the “journey”

way before you did, so seeing the way their significant others react 

to the baby bumps and sudden emotional breakdowns during double dates 

it’s quite a show, really. they’re either so stunned, so careful due to their partner being more “fragile” than normal 

and others who look calm and collected, seeming to have read every book on pregnancy and child bearing they can get from the local library 

and of course, their partner admires the dedication and earnest reactions they all have towards this new beginning for the both of them: a life, growing inside their belly. how exciting

(and terrifying. absolutely terrifying)

so when you finally used one (that turned out to be five, just to be sure) pregnancy test you kept hidden in one of the bathroom cabinets

the rush of emotions start falling out: disbelief, pure bubbling joy, adrenaline rush of excitement, and then a few heavy pounds of anxiety

“baby you’re taking too long in the…” you hear sungjin’s concerned voice coming closer to you, and it trails off when the two of you meet eyes for the first time that night

that you realize you’re pregnant

“how many did you take?” is his first question, tone void of anything that you’re suddenly scared he didn’t want this yet 

“five,” you reply quietly, sitting on the edge of the bathtub while holding onto the tests strips

“should you take one more just in case?” he asks again, eyes wide and mouth hanging way too open for your liking

whining to him you say, “we might as well go to my doctor to make sure at this point because i think five is overkill already.”

a pregnant pause

you’re getting just a tiny bit annoyed at sungjin’s non-response at this point. he just looks like a fish out of water, and if you just didn’t find out you’re pregnant and are currently registering your own emotions, you’d have slapped him silly right there

but that’s just how sungjin reacts, especially with how important this all is to the trajectory of your shared life

“come here,” he tells you, arms spread out. face still nonchalant, but you swear you heard a hint of joy in that tone

you give in, though, because it’s sungjin and he’s suddenly getting teary eyed and you don’t want him to wait any longer—

“what do you think?” you whisper against his ear, folding into his embrace as he tightens his grip around your waist. the doubts that filled your mind about him not wanting this for any reason disappeared right when his warmth embraced you

“i think you’re gonna be the best parent ever,” he says but the way he’s squeezing you so hard causes you to audibly squirm

he lets go in a flash, apologizing back and forth 

“sungjin it’s okay!!” you laugh, tears of joy welling up in your eyes because sungjin is already panicking about hurting the baby in some form due to him hugging you too much “i think the baby will be fine for now!!”

“let’s go,” he states, his hands holding onto yours and his eyes determined 

“to where?” you laugh incredulously. sungjin’s switching of emotions in two seconds flat is hilarious to you, but you humor him for a moment

“to the doctor, so we know you’re healthy and the baby is healthy and what else we need to prepare for so that you can—”

it’s 9pm

ok it’s time to shut him up now

kissing his lips softly, you rest your forehead against his and the two of you share the peaceful silence inside your bathroom, in your own house, where your family soon will bloom

“too soon, sungjin,” you remark, smiling as you feel him blush inches away from you

he nods briefly, taking his time to kiss both of your cheeks and you indulge in his genuine love and care

“i’m so happy to do this with you,” he says, “to build our family together” 

“i am too” 

“should we start planning on the nursery room?” and there he is again, back to going on overdrive it makes you the less crazy one

you calm him down and remind him that it was grocery shopping day tomorrow then you can set up the appointment for your gynecologist. it seems to bring sungjin’s excitement down

by the end of the day, all the scrambling emotions you had accumulated once learning about your pregnancy has dwindled down to the most important one you have: gratefulness for sungjin

so that was just the beginning, right 

in the following weeks that you have been confirmed to be pregnant yes, congratulations, a lot of things have changed in the household 

from your newly bought maternity clothes, to less hours spent at work, and the empty room in your house finally being given the opportunity to bring it to life 

it wasn’t only you doing the renovating, actually sungjin doesn’t want you near any tools or paint brushes at all 

he wants the baby safe as well as your physical body 

he is overreacting. you are only a month in

“you tell me the color of the walls, where the crib should be, and the paintings you want hung. i’ll do the work. deal?”

“no take backsies?” it sounds like a plan too good to be true

sungjin chuckles at your suspicion, but nods firmly

“fiiiine” 

there was definitely a change in atmosphere in your relationship, however. it suddenly became a bit more… intuitive? it boggles your mind because sungjin has always been the perfect husband for you since day 1

but each passing day, he’s becoming so much more careful, gentle, and all-knowing with you

for example the one morning that you just felt the urge to throw up everything you ate the day prior among other things

sungjin had already prepared the bathroom with extra paper towels, a glass of water to gargle with

and even brought awaiting breakfast in bed, just a few fruits maybe an oatmeal and brewed tea (just the way you like it)

he doesn’t take too much time in the bathroom when he showers (and sings loudly) before a gyne appt or just when the two of you were supposed to bond that night

this is kind of a given but grocery shopping is more of a competition than cooperation months before

who brings the most bags and gets to the car the fastest (without spilling anything) will not cook food that day 

now, sungjin doesn’t hesitate but almost force you to stand by the entrance of the place, and make you wait there until he finished putting the stuff in the car and drive where you were 

“i need exercise too, sungjin” you’d poke him on the side while on the drive home, and sungjin just half-smiles

those days he’d try and order take out instead because, well, sometimes he just doesn’t want to cook

and you’re prepared for this, at least he lets you continue your hobby of being the master chef in the kitchen

it’s a nice way to bond with the baby and your husband. as sungjin plays music in the living room through a speaker or by singing himself

you enjoy trying new healthy recipes

the baby bump is forming shape now, your clothes definitely give out a hint. it’s been a complicated ride of what to feel about it

excited, thrilled, of course, sungjin takes a moment in the morning to really look at you

and his child that you bear so beautifully, and with so much grace

the sun shines somewhat through the curtains, and sunjin wonders how you sleep so amazingly well 

his eyes never tire of tearing up with incoming thoughts of the next few months, years with you and your little boy or girl. he doesn’t even have an inch of doubt that you’re going to raise them well, and raise them kindly

on the other hand, as sungjin thumbs over your cheek, admiring your presence in front of him...

synchronized breathing

sungjin is afraid if he will not be enough for his child. there’s so many things that can go wrong in the first three years, let alone the moment they’ll come to this world

what if he gets cold feet? what if he cannot financially support the two of you anymore? what if you become disappointed at how he’s presenting himself as a good father? 

it pains sungjin to realize all of these what-ifs. with a few more minutes to spare before he has to go to another day at work, sungjin makes sure to feel the curve of your belly, and transfer over his warmth to you 

he closes his eyes, immersing himself with the beat of his heart, knowing that it’s for you and your family

if you’re lucky, you wake up to the whispers of sungjin about the many different things he loves about you, his forever partner, the future super parent of your child

resisting to open your eyes and see his embarrassed face is almost harder than not drinking coffee nowadays

but you get used to it, just barely seeing how shiny his eyes get, how relaxed his features become and how much love leaves his lips

saying your name, singing to the baby a little good morning jingle, telling you both

“i love you so much, more than you can know in this lifetime” 

and when sungjin is busy at work, half relegating tasks to his employees and the other burying down the anxiety about leaving you at home all day alone

you do your part to ease his worries, sending him cute texts throughout the day 

sometimes he even asks about the belly more than about you

“hows the baby?? can i see?? does it feel different today?? did you feel a kick? do you think it will be twins??”

(god you hope not)

“sungjin you are at work and i can hear your colleagues laughing at your excitement, quiet down!”

he’s so proud, so so proud of you. getting those texts and short calls from you while he’s away does more assurance than you think

he readied himself by asking his family members about parenting, asking his friends about their opinions, and reading so much online that he’d forget to do his share of the workload in the office

being 100% prepared is his mission, and he thinks you’re not taking it seriously. you say it comes with intuition for you because, well, you’re carrying the baby. but there’s one thing the both of you just cannot explain to each other which confuses sungjin all the more

your cravings

it was fairly normal in the beginning, maybe you wanted cheese on everything one day, and then you just had to add peanut butter on your garlic bread… okay, at least sungjin didn’t have to eat it with you

but the times that you didn’t have the ingredients you were specifically asking for, sungjin was at a loss for words

“sungjin…” you whine on the bed with him, sitting up as best as you can with the bump and pushing his shoulders so he gets up. he was lying down but had his back facing you, as he he had tried multiple times to convince you to go back to bed already

it wasn’t successful

“babe it’s too late to go out,” he’d murmur, hugging the pillow close to him as if to block out your voice. this offends you, a little over the top than normal, so you continue shaking him up

“but i neeeed it. the baby neeeeeeds it. you want the best for baby, right? anything baby wants, baby gets, right?” you say with a pout, although futile as he couldn’t see you

sungjin groans lightly, understanding that cravings aren’t even explainable on your end but there must be something in the house that can, well, emulate what your tastebuds desired— or, sorry, the baby

“we have leftover vanilla ice cream in the fridge, sweetheart, will that be okay for now? we’ll get the other flavor tomorrow morning,” sungjin calms you down, turning over to see your face soaked with fresh tears

this gets him to sit up, cuddle mode on, but you refuse

“baby, i’m sorry—”

“no i’m sorry sungjin, i just wanted to eat because i can’t sleep if i don’t but you’re upset and now i feel so lumpy and gross and—”

“hey hey no,” he scolds you softly, never liking the way he hears you call yourself such a word. his arms embrace your from behind, hands secured on your bump as he peppers you with tender kisses on the side of your face, kissing the tears away

“sungjin i don’t look cute right now,” you pout, somehow knowing what you’re saying is ridiculous to a point and irrational, but also the way you’re thinking isn’t logical right now

“that’s a lie,” sungjin tells you. “don’t ever believe that.” 

you find his hands caressing your bump, and intertwine them together. sungjin lets you breathe in and out for a minute, as he finds it the best way to help you out when emotions start to overwhelm you

no words, no distractions, just the feel of him and his security

“do you really want strawberry cheesecake ice cream right now, babe?” he finally asks as the tension from your body dissipates. you nod and crane your neck to the side just enough to meet his lips with yours

one kiss, two kisses

sungjin looks at you brightly, smiles and nods once

“okay, i’ll get it for you, you just stay here and rest. okay?” 

exhausted from the emotions but still hungry from your cravings, you follow his words. after, he tucks you back in bed, gives your bump a quick peck and goes out the door

“don’t forget the potato chips :c” you text him 5 mins later

“of course love, pickle-dill and strawberry ice cream ready for you soon ;)”

when he came back, he didn’t think to spend the next 20 minutes watching you put the potato chips as a sort of topping for your ice cream

suffice to say, it was a strange night that ended in laughs, you trying to get him to take a bite (which you succeeded), reminiscing on old times, and falling asleep with him fitting right by your side perfectly

it were these moments that you feel more and more in love with sungjin because he doesn’t just care for you

he cares with all of his being, and you make sure he knows how much he’s appreciated with the little things he does, and the big things he shows off to you

the nursery room gets done earlier than expected, and surprisingly enough sungjin let you paint a patch or two of the wall. you spend time off decorating the whole place with pictures of the two of you way back then, pictures of your child’s (favorite) uncles, paintings you have finished that embodied the love you have for your future family, everything that reminded you of home with sungjin

“you think our baby will like it?” sungjin asks you right after hes finished with the last picture frame. it was empty, undecorated, but hung right next to the crib. 

“absolutely, appa made it with love.”

“and sweat”

and he holds you right there, the fresh scent of furniture and a new beginning amidst the air

he holds you and your blossoming family in his careful, gentle hands. and you whisk yourself away in the moment and how perfect it was, how grateful you are to live this through with sungjin

a slight kick reverberates within your bump, and sungjin glances at you immediately

another bump, and the two of you slowly form the widest grins

“i guess you got your answer, sungjin.”

his answer has already been in front of him

[mistymark]

VIGILANTE/S III

part three // 2.4k words // superpowered!au // series masterlist

summary; in which you consider yourself somewhat of a vigilante.

warnings; mentions of blood, depiction of some violence

notes; I can't write fight scenes for shit but I hope this makes some sense x

You’ve only had about 5 hours of sleep, but Doyoung’s voice in your head is enough to get you moving in the morning. Other than the repeated “wake up” and shouts of your name, you swear you can hear him laughing. It’s not something you expected to hear, but the sound is comforting.

You slide a simple long-sleeve shirt over your head and a pair of Donghyuck’s sweatpants up your legs, tightening the drawstrings as tight as you can and trying not to think about the fact that you are wearing a dead man’s clothes. When you walk down the corridor to the main part of the warehouse, you feel a power you hadn’t before and you realise just how thick the walls between the bedrooms are when you’re overwhelmed by the power coming from a few doors down. The familiar dull ache of power you felt around Supers had been dimmed within your room, reducing the amount of power you could feel when you were inside.

You want to pry, to see what it is, but you ignore the surge of power that beckons you and continue on your journey to find breakfast.

Jaehyun is back in his office, back from his late-night trip, and his eyes meet yours through the transparent glass of his office as he listens to Johnny.

A few of the other team members are already awake, sitting at an absurdly long table and eating their breakfasts. The sight of these dangerous killers eating their chocolate-flavoured cereal almost makes you laugh.

“You’re new,” one of them says, as if it weren’t obvious. You’d seen him last night.

“Yeah.”

“So, what? You’re a part of the team now?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“I’m Jaemin.”

“I’m-”

Your gaze is lifted to Johnny, who had just exited Jaehyun’s office, and your mouth drops open. He’s holding a gun, aiming it straight at Jaemin, who hasn’t even turned around in his seat yet. Before you can warn him, Johnny shoots and you expect the boy beside you to – well – die, but instead, he vanishes. The bullet flies past you, missing your arm by a few inches. You look from where he’d just been sitting to Johnny in shock, only to see Jaemin standing in front of him, the gun Johnny had been holding now pointing directly at him in a menacing way. Super speed.

“Very nice,” Johnny nods, approvingly. “You’re getting faster.” He raises a hand, and a stopwatch dangles from his fingers. Jaemin gently takes the stopwatch from Johnny’s hand and tosses him the gun, smiling at the time displayed across the tiny screen. You hadn’t expected someone so dangerous to have such an innocent smile.

If you were being honest, you had yet to recover from the shock. Madmen. All of them.

Trying to hide the fact you’re still attempting to catch your breath, you look to the boy emerging from the dark hall, his hair a mess and deep bags under his eyes. “Morning,” he greets, though he barely looks towards the table as he walks through the room to Jaehyun’s office. As soon as he steps inside, the walls darken to their opaque grey, and you’re forced to look away.

“Training begins in an hour,” Johnny nods at the two other boys who have just stepped into the room as he makes his way down the corridor.

“Do you know how to fight?”

You turn to the person asking. You’d seen him last night, too. His black hair falls over his eyes, but you can still tell his eyes could probably turn people to stone. Yet the feature that catches your eye is his hands, bruised and bloody even in the morning.

He cracks a sadistic smile when he notices you staring at his hands, “You won’t be fighting me, don’t worry.”

You offer him a polite smile back, opting to answer his question, “No, I don’t know how to fight.”

He shrugs, turning back to his bowl of cereal, “Johnny’s a good trainer. You’ll catch up.” He pauses a moment, then frowns, “Who are you?” He looks at you from the corner of his eye as he spoons a mouthful of cereal into his mouth.

“Y/n.”

“Jeno.” He says the name like he has no attachment to it, and you wonder if he’s lying. Part of you wonders if you should have lied about your name, too.

“Good morning,” one of the newcomers sits across from you. His tone neither implies that it is a good morning nor it is otherwise – monotonous. The other doesn’t even spare you a glance as he sits down at the end of the table. Jaemin sits down again, dropping into the seat between yourself and Jeno. They begin talking about training, and you try to pick up as many clues about them as possible.

“Is Doyoung training with us?” Jaemin asks, and you subconsciously look at him. Ever since he’d blocked you from using his power, you couldn’t feel his presence anymore, the surge of power that came from him. You were no longer able to tell when he was around.

“Jaehyun has him running an errand.” The way Jeno says it makes you think Doyoung’s not picking up the dry cleaning or going grocery shopping.

“Who?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t say. Someone from the Den.” Definitely not grocery shopping.

One by one the boys leave, Chenle – Jaemin referred to him as such – departs without uttering a word, though he’d been silent during breakfast, anyway, so you weren’t expecting anything. The boy who had greeted you, Mark, at least had the decency to nod as he left, even if it was somewhat awkward.

Jeno and Jaemin leave together, and you can hear Jaemin laughing loudly down the corridor, though Jeno remains quiet. When you’re sat alone at the table, playing with the leftover food on your plate, Jaehyun emerges from his office. The walls are still dark, and you wonder if the other Super is still in there.

He’s dressed in another pressed suit, though this one is a dark blue. The colour looks good on him. He sits across from you, but he doesn’t make any move to eat. You knew he’d been out later than you last night, and had less sleep than you, yet it was impossible to tell. He didn’t look the least bit tired.

“Good morning,” he says, stiffly, and part of you wonder if he’s uncomfortable.

“Morning,” you respond, though it sounds more like a question.

He clears his throat, “I’m sorry I won’t be able to oversee your training today.” The way he speaks makes you remember what you’d seen in his mind last night – his upbringing. You try not to think about it, feeling invasive.

You raise an eyebrow, “Do you normally oversee training?”

“When we get a new recruit, yes. I like to see what I’m working with.”

You shovel another forkful of food into your mouth, “You know what I can do.”

“Escapism and combat are two different things.”

You pause as you chew. Pointing your fork at him, you shake your head, “You don’t think I could have taken you down last night?”

“You were weak and desperate. Definitely not.”

You’re taken aback by his words. He’s clearly not one for sugar coating.

“Don’t tell the rest of the team what your ability is.”

“What?”

“Let them find out for themselves. You’re weaker, slower and less experienced. You need the advantage.”

You stand up, taking your plate to the sink you’d seen the others put their dishes in. “I’ll be fine on my own, thank you.” You leave him sitting at the table, making your way back to the room you’d been shown to last night.

Somehow, you’d gotten used to the bloody sight, and changed into training clothes without a thought. Jaehyun’s words rolled around in your head as you prepared for training.

“Welcome to training,” Johnny claps his hands together. He’s standing in the large ring in the centre of the warehouse while you and the others stand outside. It’s bigger than most fighting rings, but it’s the standard size for Super fights. It looks exactly like the one in the Den, and the thought almost makes you shudder. “Jeno, you’re up.”

Jeno steps up into the ring, and you watch as they back away from each other, and Johnny presses a button on the outside of one of the posts. A large analogue clock blinks to life on the wall opposite you, its bright red letters beginning to count the seconds that pass. Jeno begins to circle around the ring dangerously.

“10 on Jeno,” Jaemin whispers. When you look to him in shock, he smiles, though he doesn’t look back at you. His eyes are trained on the dangerous dance in the ring.

When you don’t say anything, he glances down at you quickly, “You don’t think Johnny can win?”

You watch them for a moment, and you can feel their power. Super strength versus precognition. Jeno has a physical advantage, but Johnny has his own advantage.

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. Just as those words leave your mouth, Jeno lunges at Johnny and suddenly the ring is a blur of punches and dodges.

“Word to the wise,” Jaemin begins, as he watches his friend in the ring. Jeno’s strong but Johnny’s fast, easily dodging the onslaught of punches coming from the fighter. Just as Jeno goes to punch Johnny in the face, a punch that would knock him out for hours, most likely, Johnny swiftly dodges, grabs and slams Jeno’s body down against the floor. “Johnny always wins.”

You stare in silence as Jeno lets his head rest against the floor in defeat, his chest heaving with the exertion.

“Johnny can see what you’re going to do the second you think about it. It’s not so much fighting to win as it is fighting for your own survival.”

Jeno slides out of the ring with a huff, the hair hanging over his forehead sweaty. Shaking it out of his face, he disappears down the corridor, and you hear the distinct noise of someone punching something and an unexpected metallic sound.

“Is that it? Is he done?” You watch him disappear before looking to Jaemin in surprise.

“Nah, he’s training by himself. He’s trying to increase his strength.” Jaemin laughs when you raise your eyebrows. His gaze shifts to Johnny, who is cooling down after the fight while writing something in a notebook at the edge of the ring. “Johnny knows he can fight, he rarely trains with us.”

“Y/n, your turn.”

You look at Jaemin and he offers a smile, though it looks more like a cringe. He can’t hide the concern on his face, and you begin to realise that he’s the only one here who can’t hide his emotions like the rest. Chenle and Mark watch as you step into the ring, and you can feel their eyes on you, though they offer no support. At least Jaemin had the decency to look worried.

Johnny’s taken off his shirt, and you gulp at the sight of the scars and bruises that decorate his body. He’s a fighter through and through, and he’s intimidatingly large. He hunkers down, moving lightly on his toes as he watches you. You’ve never had any official training, but you’ve had your fair share of fistfights. Granted, they barely lasted ten seconds, and Jeno had spent minutes in here. Matching Johnny’s pose, you step sideways around the ring.

He watches you, analysing your movement. He doesn’t make a move towards you. He’s playing defence, not offense. He won’t move unless you do.

You step forward and swing, and he easily blocks it, and before you know it, you’re on the floor.

“Up. Again.” He turns around, waiting for you to stand and wipes his forehead once before returning to his original position.

Over and over again, every time you try and attack him, he easily deflects and overpowers you. The screen on the wall continues to count upwards. Johnny can see what you’re going to do the second you think about it.Jaemin’s words echo in your mind as you stand up for the tenth time. Your body aches in places you didn’t even know existed, and you can taste blood in your mouth. You ready yourself once again.

The only way you’re going to beat him is if you don’t think, you realise. Then, another thought crosses your mind. You move around the ring, light on your feet. Johnny mirrors your movements, and it looks like some kind of sick dance.

You think about punching him. Landing it, this time. As you move forward, Johnny moves to defend himself, ready for the punch he’s already seen coming. Yet, your fist doesn’t even come close to his body. You draw on Jaemin’s power to dart behind Johnny. The familiar sensation of power runs through your body as you draw on the boys’ abilities. The ball of fire you conjure leaves your hand and hits him square in the back. With a yell, he drops to the floor. The clock above you stops timing, and flashes brightly. Your turn is over.

The fire diminishes within a second, leaving no trace of smoke. The skin of Johnny’s back is red, but he isn’t burnt. Outside the ring, Chenle’s hands are raised, his eyes wide. He’d tried to remove the heat from the flames as soon as he’d seen the fireball.

It takes Johnny a moment to collect himself as he stands, but he doesn’t look at you, “Y/n. Out. Mark.” He cocks his head to something behind him, and Mark steps into ring. When you turn to exit, there’s fire in Chenle’s eyes as he stares at you.

You don’t know what to do when you leave, so you just stand beside Jaemin again. He’s speechless, staring at you with his mouth open. You notice Johnny nod at Chenle in thanks, before he starts the timer again, facing Mark.

Jaemin somehow finds his voice, “What the fuck was that?”

“I suck at hand-to-hand combat,” you respond, though your voice is shaky.

“So you decide to roast your trainer?”

“That’s not how you do things here?” Your attempt at humour lands successfully, and your uneasiness is settled when he cracks a smile, though it’s only a small one.

[youngjusticeslut]

Center Stage (Chapter 4)

Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power Characters: Adora, Catra, Glimmer, Bow, Mermista, Sea Hawk, Kyle, Perfuma, Frosta, Angella, Micah, Shadow Weaver Ships: Catradora, Glimbow, Seamista, Kygelio, Scorptra Rating: T+ Summary: A Catradora Ballet School AU AO3

Adora wakes up long before her alarm goes off.

First day of classes. Big day. Her phone tells her it’s a little past six in the morning, and a quick glance to the side of the room tells her that Glimmer is gone, bed unkempt. Carefully, she crawls out of bed, hoping not to wake Catra. Though judging by the girl’s soft snores, there’s not much to worry about.

Six am means she has two hours to kill before her first class. Two hours is plenty of time. Enough for a quick workout, a thorough stretch session, and maybe even a bit of breakfast. If her stomach calms down enough to eat, that is.

From her bedside table, she grabs her earphones and plugs them into her phone. Quiet as can be, she starts with a series of pushups, followed by crunches, bicycle kicks, and leg lifts. Three sets, rinse and repeat. It helps Adora work her nerves out, and lucky for her, Catra sleeps through the entire thing, unaware of it all. She takes extra time to stretch out her muscles, especially her feet. They’d be put through the ringer today, the least she can do is prepare them for what’s to come.

By the time she showers and grabs a couple of muffins from the cafeteria, Catra’s just waking up. She smiles, seeing her awake when she enters the room. Glimmer is still nowhere to be found, it seems. “Hey there,” Adora greets softly, trying not to startle her roommate. “Late start?”

“Not an early riser,” the brunette responds. “What time is it?”

“Seven thirty. Still got about thirty minutes until class.”

“Shit.” As if on cue, Catra’s stomach growls. She glances away in mild embarrassment.  

“It’s okay,” Adora says, tossing her a muffin. Catra catches it without missing a bit. “I came prepared.”

Adora tries not to relish the look of surprise on Catra’s face. Score a point to her, for being the best roommate ever. As Catra nibbles on the muffin, Adora rifles through her drawers, pulling out her black leotards and pink tights. Boring, but apparently the required uniform at Bright Moon.

She keeps her back to Catra as she’s changing, humming to herself as a distraction. At the moment, she doesn’t even remember the name of the song she’s humming. It’s a Spanish one, something Mara would sing most mornings as she made breakfast. The routine quells the little bit of homesickness that she’s feeling.

Once she’s dressed, she walks over to the mirror and starts to pin up her hair. By now, Catra’s finished the muffin and has also begun to get dressed. “Want to walk to class together?” she asks, hoping to continue extending the olive branch. She’s not great at making friends, but she promised Mara and Razz that she’d make a better effort at it.

“Uh, sure. I have to brush my teeth, though.”

“That’s okay, I’ll—wait, is that what you’re wearing?”

Catra glances up from adjusting the straps on her leotard. “Yeah?” She pauses, cocks her head to the side and gives a little smirk. “Doesn’t suit your taste?” Unlike Adora, she wears red, with nude colored tights. It looks far better than it should, and Adora can’t help the blush that tints her cheeks.

The question leaves Adora flustered, more than it probably should. It’s too early for this. “What? No. No, it’s fine. Cool actually, super— I mean…” She stops rambling and collects herself with a deep breath. “What you’re wearing is nice, but Bright Moon has a uniform.”

“Uniform?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you read the orientation packet?”

Catra’s face says that she very much hadn’t, but the girl shrugs it off and takes off the hair tie from around her wrist. “Whatever. It’ll make me stand out.”

“I don’t think it works like that. What if you get in trouble?”

The brunette pauses from tying up her hair, shooting a quick look at Adora. “Worried about me?”

Adora scoffs and crosses her arms. “I’m trying to save you from getting your ass kicked out on the first day.”

“They won’t throw me out. Trust me, once they see me dance, they’ll forget all about what I’m wearing.” Her words are strong, but something in Catra’s eyes doesn’t exactly convince Adora. It comes off more like a front, a facade to protect her. Part of her wants to call Catra out on it, but something stops her. Truthfully, it’s none of her business. Who is Adora to stop Catra from doing what she wants?

“Hey, it’s your funeral,” Adora ends up saying.

Catra finishes to tie up her hair, leaving it in a sloppy bun with bangs framing her face. It’s a stark contrast to Adora’s sleek, neat do. “I appreciate the concern,” she says with a wink.

While Catra scoots past her into their shared bathroom to brush her teeth, Adora checks the time on her phone. Class starts in fifteen minutes. She pulls at her fingers for something to do, resisting the urge to chew on her lip. They’re cutting it awfully close. What if all the good spots are taken by the time they get there? She really wants to show up early, scope out the other girls, make a good impression on the teachers.

“Almost ready?” It comes with a bit of a whine, and Adora mentally kicks herself. Now Catra probably thinks she’s such a goody-goody. It doesn’t matter, though. There’s no answer. “Catra?”

“Nearly done. If it’s getting close, go on ahead.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll catch up.”

Permission granted, Adora grabs her already-packed ballet bag and slings it over her shoulder. She barely remembers to grab her room keys on her way out the door. Part of her feels guilty for leaving Catra behind, but she really doesn’t want to be late. Especially not on the first day.

Thanks to her strategic mapping technique from the day before, Adora is able to make it to class in less than five minutes. The dorms aren’t too far from this particular studio, and for that Adora is eternally grateful. As expected, several girls are already there in various points of preparing their pointe shoes. Glimmer stands off to the side, testing out a shiny pair of shoes. In comparison, Adora’s faded ones look abysmal. She really needs a new pair.

Adora takes her place in the center of the room, close to the barre. When class begins, she’ll be front and center; perfect for watching the teacher, and right up front to get her noticed. Easy. Almost too easy. Her pointe shoes are already broken-in, so she takes the time to prep her feet properly before slipping them on. No distractions today. She has to be at the top of her game.

Her nerves aren’t nearly as bad as they were on the day of her audition. Maybe it’s because she’s already in and the hard part is over. Or maybe it has something to do with being inside the gorgeous dance studio again. Last time she was in here, it felt like a dream. Today, it’s her reality.

“Adora!” Perfuma waves at her, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s your first day, how are you feeling? Did you eat breakfast?”

Any other morning, this amount of energy so early in the morning would have turned Adora off. She doesn’t mind it so much today. “Yeah, I got something to eat. And I’m fine. Excited for it to start, really.”

Perfuma places a hand on Adora’s shoulder and gives it a soft squeeze. “Glad to hear it. No stress?”

“Not really.”

“That’s great! I’m sure you’re going to be amazing.” For some reason, Perfuma’s encouragement actually helps Adora feel better. She knows that she’s only met the girl a day ago, but there’s something really calming about her general demeanor.

Adora’s about to respond when the doors to the dance studio open. A flock of boys enter the room, and the excitement increases tenfold. Returning students hug and squeal and group together. Off to the side, Adora finally locates Glimmer. She throws her arm around a boy, who cheers and spins her around in delight. Following right after the boys are a group of adults. Teachers, she assumes, judging by their higher air and the way they watch the students interact. Adora recognizes Angella, Spinerella and Netossa from the audition. Angella holds herself at the front of the room, standing beside a dark-haired man.

“Good morning,” she announces, bright and chipper. The energy in the room immediately simmers down, and many echo the words back to her. “We are so pleased to welcome everyone to the first day of what I am sure will be a wonderful year.”

As she welcomes the new students, Adora scans the crowd for Catra. She doesn’t find her. Biting her lip, she attempts to  focus back on Angella. Why is her roommate like this?

“You are our senior class, which means that this will be your last year attending Bright Moon Academy,” the man beside Angella continues. “At the end of the year, we will be picking the top dancers to join our company.” He scans the crowd, and offers a kind smile. “While I’m sure that all of you are incredible, this year we will only have room to add six students to the company.”

Six students? Adora clenches her fist in determination. She’s faced worse odds.

“Throughout the year, we will be observing you and your talents as ballet dancers. However, we will not make any final decisions until we see how you dance in the final workshop performance. With that said, we wish you all the best of luck, and advise you to make this your year.”

When Angella finishes speaking, the group claps. The door opens again, and Catra walks in, completely neutral, not a hint of shame on her face. The man beside Angella raises a brow. “So nice of you to fit us into your schedule, Miss…?”

“Catra.” She grins right back at him. “And no sweat.”

The class snickers at her response, but if Catra cares, she doesn’t show it. Adora sucks in her teeth. Late, again? Really. Is Catra actively trying to get herself kicked out, or does she just not care?

“One more thing before we dismiss you for classes. As you may have heard, the company gala is taking place this weekend. We always invite our senior students to attend the performance and help out at the party afterwards, so please plan accordingly. We do expect you all to attend,” Angella says. “Thank you all!”

That said, the teachers trickle out of the room and the boys bid their goodbyes before leaving for their own class. A dark-haired teacher remains at the front, hands clasped tightly. Catra catches Adora’s eye and gives her a wink, but her expression changes completely once she sees the teacher. That’s weird.

“You may call me Madame Weaver,” the woman continues. “In this class, we will be working on technique, sequences and formations three times a week. At the barre,”  she instructs, giving no pleasantries. Needless to say, the girls toss their bags to the side and scurry to their positions at the barre. Adora already has her spot, and Catra manages to grab the spot on the opposing end. Their hands are inches away from the other. Adora’s not sure why, but it makes her nervous.

“Let’s start with our pliés. First position, demi, and stretch. Full grand plié and return. Port de bras forward. Full port de bras back. The same in second, third, and fifth positions, and then rise and take a balance in fifth.” She speaks a little too quickly for Adora to fully understand what she’s asking, but since she’s good at following along, she’s not too worried.

Madame Weaver nods to the pianist in the room, who begins the opening transition. To no one’s surprise, the girls move through the pliés seamlessly. Thanks to her rigorous stretch earlier, Adora feels nice and limber.

The teacher walks around the room with something to say about everyone. Mermista needs to relax her fingers. Perfuma needs to work on feeling the support from her center. Glimmer is complimented on her technique. Adora glides through the movements, feeling confident and waiting for Madame Weaver to no doubtedly comment on how wonderful her technique is.

When she gets to her, she pauses. “Your name?” Madame Weaver asks.

“Adora.”

“You need to work on your turnout. Without it, your dancing suffers.”

It’s not the advice Adora expected to hear. She looks down at her feet and adjusts her turnout, feeling less comfortable. “Better,” Madame Weaver says before moving on. As Adora continues her plies, she watches from her peripheral as Madame Weaver approaches Catra.

“You will be on time to my class and wearing appropriate attire. You would do well to remember that your place here is subject to my approval. Do I make myself clear, Catra?”

Adora doesn’t hear a response, but she assumes that Catra agrees, for Madame Weaver moves away and proceeds onto the next student. Something about her interaction with Catra unsettles her. It’s almost like they know each other. With a slight huff, she forces the thought out of her mind. She can’t think about that right now.  

The class continues. They spend an hour on barre work alone. From there, they move on to floor work and practicing routines across the room. As much as Adora would like to admit otherwise, she struggles. She comes out of turns too slow and stumbles one time too many for her liking. Madame Weaver works quickly and she isn’t always able to catch everything she says. On the whole, she feels like she has much to improve on.

When class ends, Adora sinks down to the floor and yanks open the laces of her pointe shoes. Her feet throb and she just wants to be out of them. Lunch sounds good, too. The lonely muffin she had for breakfast is long gone, and she needs more than just a salad today.

“Hey.” Adora looks up to see Glimmer, offering her an apologetic smile. “Don’t let it get you down. The first day is always rough.”

It’s hard not to take her words personally, especially not after an entire class where Glimmer was the model student. She swallows any bitterness and smiles back. “I guess you’d know, huh?”

“Trust me, there are days I mess up too. Do you want to go have lunch?”

Adora slips into a pair of slippers and stuffs her pointe shoes in her bag before standing up. “Lunch sounds great. I don’t think I’m in the mood for salad though.”

Glimmer laughs and interlocks arms with her. The action is unexpected, but welcome. They head in the direction of the cafeteria, arm in arm. “Hard same. What are you thinking?”

“I could go for a sandwich. Grilled cheese?”

“Deal.”

In less than ten minutes, the two are in line at the cafeteria waiting to pay for their food. Adora steals a fry off her plate, nibbling at it to quell her hunger. “So, it gets better, right?”

“So much better. Weaver never gets easier though.” Glimmer chews on the inside of her cheek before looking off to the side. “She’s just very… particular.”

Adora remembers the short conversation she overheard between Madame Weaver and Catra. Note to self, stay on Weaver’s good side. Couldn’t be that hard, right? Glimmer seems to have figured it out. “She likes you, though.”

“I wish she didn’t. Believe it or not, I kind of hate being the teacher’s pet.”

“What? No way.” When it’s her turn, Adora sets down her tray and pulls out her student ID to pay for the meal. She’s so lucky that she qualified for Bright Moon’s scholarship program. Mara and Razz were more than willing to chip in, but Adora’s never been comfortable with putting more financial burden on them.

“Way.” Glimmer pulls out her card to pay for her food when she looks up and her eyes widen. “I am so sorry.”

“For what?”

“Glimmer!” Angella meets them at the cash register, a stack of papers in her hand. “You haven’t answered my texts. How was your first class?”

Glimmer flushes in embarrassment and grits her teeth. “Mom, you’re holding up the line.”

“Oh, you’re right. Here, let me pay, Dear,” she says, handing the cashier her credit card before Glimmer can argue. Once they’re all settled, Angella walks with them toward a less crowded spot.

“Adora, this is my mom,” Glimmer introduces reluctantly. “Mom, Adora.”

“Yes, Adora. I remember you, from the audition.” Angella takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “It’s so nice to meet more of Glimmer’s friends.”

“Mom.”

Angella clears her throat, smiling bashfully and letting go of Adora’s hands. “Right, sorry. How was the first class?”

“It was good. Nothing to worry about. Right, Adora?”

Adora nods, quickly trying to swallow her mouth full of a couple more fries. “Yep! Just fine,” she says, hoping that Madame Weaver hasn’t already soiled her reputation to Angella.

“Good. I’m so glad to hear that. I won’t pry any more, you girls go on and enjoy your lunch, I just wanted to say hello.” Angella takes note of her daughter’s tray and rests a soft hand on Glimmer’s shoulder. “I thought we agreed on salads for lunch. We spoke about this, Glimmer.”

Glimmer turns as red as the ketchup on her plate. It clashes horribly with her hair. “Mom, I know. I promise, salad for dinner,” she mutters, unable to look at Adora.

The answer pleases Angella, for she pecks her forehead and lets go of her. “Good. Keep an eye on your phone, and call me tonight?”

“Yeah, Mom. Say hi to Dad for me.”

“I will. Bye girls.”

Adora watches after her as she leaves before following Glimmer to where she’d hunkered down at a nearby table. Glimmer angrily stabs a fry in some ketchup before tossing it to the side of her plate. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she warns before taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

“Fair enough. My family can be a lot too,” Adora says, trying to make Glimmer feel better. “Was your dad the guy standing next to Angella this morning.”

“Yeah. I may have mentioned it yesterday, but they run the school and the company. My dad takes a bigger role in the company, and my mom the school. It works out.”

“Must have been cool to grow up around all these ballet dancers. You must have been able to learn so much from them.”

Glimmer nods, swirling a fry around in some ketchup before popping it in her mouth. “Something like that.”

As Adora digs into her grilled cheese, she notices Catra sitting at a table not too far from them. She talks to a girl with platinum hair and she looks… upset. The tall girl attempts to comfort her but Catra moves away. It seems that Madame Weaver’s words really got to her. “Kind of serves her right,” Glimmer notes after following Adora’s gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“Who does she think she is, showing up late on the first day? And breaking the dress code at that! Catra’s just asking to be kicked out,” Glimmer scoffs, taking a bite of her grilled cheese. She chews, mulls it over, and smirks. “Or maybe she just likes attention.”

Glimmer’s words don’t sit well with her. Adora crosses her arms and takes a shaky breath. “Look, I know you and Catra don’t get along. But you didn’t hear what Weaver said to her. It was… way harsh. Harsher than it should be.”

“That’s just how Weaver is.”

“I don’t think so. I’m not saying what Catra did was right, and I’m not going to sit here and make excuses for her. But I’m also not going to sit here and badmouth her.” Adora looks down at her plate. “That’s not who I am. Okay?”

Glimmer reaches for her hand. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Let’s just talk about something else?”

“Yeah.” Adora looks back in Catra’s direction, but the brunette is no longer there. Maybe she’ll talk to her later, see what’s going on. “So, about the Gala thing this weekend… Can you wear jeans to that?”

[illneverrecover]

growl | kth (m)

➛pairing: Kim Taehyung x reader  (per usual) ➛summary: Clearing his throat, he tries again, gaze intense. His eyes are about to fall out of his skull with the power of his attempt at a telepathic message to his friend. “Come on, Jimin. Ask me. You know what? I’ll help you. I pick dare.” A sly glint of amusement pulls at the edge of Jimin’s mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. You look back and forth between the two of them, not sure what was happening but sure as hell knowing it was going to be nothing be trouble. “I dare you to sing a song that shows off your best growling for our girl here,”  ➛genre: non idol!AU, friends to lovers, slice of life, smut ➛word count: 4605 ➛rating: explicit/mature (y’all been knew) ➛warnings:  alcohol use, cursing, cliche use of ‘truth or dare’, Seokjin singing dope songs at karaoke, Jimin being chaotic, slight dirty talk, semi public sex, oral (male receiving), swallowing, Taehyung being a secret softie. ➛notes: Firstly, I would like to start off by saying that this fic idea came from @destiel1597 and the pure lethal sex that is 5th Muster Taehyung™, so this is truly their fault. The both of them. Secondly, y’all should’ve known that the minute I saw  5th Muster Taehyung™, I’d have to let the thirst out somehow. I don’t have self control. Lastly, shoutout to my bby @taetaesbaebaepsae for assisting me & @purpletigertaetae for spamming me with rude Tae inspo to fuel the thotting. You the best.  I promise my next fic will be about another member. If Tae would just RELAX I wouldn’t have to be like this!! ➛song: Toxic - Alex & Sierra (which is the version Tae sings in this. Listen to it and picture him singing it and tell me you wouldn’t do the same). Ma City - BTS 5th Muster version (which you should go watch immediately if you haven’t - this growling Tae was the muse for this entire sinful piece.) 

                             ᴄʀᴏss-ᴘᴏsᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ AO3;; ʟɪɴᴋ ɪɴ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ 

“How many times are you going to dare me to sing this song?”

Seokjin’s face had a thin sheen of sweat, the bright disco lights of the cozy karaoke booth bouncing off his skin, showing the exasperation evident on his face.

“Until it stops being funny. So…” you look around at the others, pausing to sip at your drink. “Never. Get to it, lover boy.” 

He sighs heavily but did as he was told, picking up the microphone and waiting for the flatscreen to start scrolling with the lyrics. The first few bars of the song blared through the speakers, and the guys gave supporting hoots to encourage him. 

Despite his earlier protest, he quickly gets into it, eyebrows furrowed as he dramatically swings the mic, belting out the first few notes. “I gotta take a little time, a little time to think things over...I better read between the lines, in case I need it when I'm older…” 

Next to you, Taehyung laughs deeply, throwing his head back as the elder continues, eyes glistening with unshed tears. No one else in the room was faring much better, every single person in some stage of cracking up at his theatrics. Forcing Seokjin to sing Foreigner songs is always hilarious, and one of your favorite parts of your friends bi-monthly karaoke meetups.

No one really knows when or how the tradition started (though rumor has it, it was at your drunken demand to ‘show off the golden pipes’), but these nights in the same small private room of your local karaoke bar had quickly become the favorite in your friend group. Twice a month, regardless of what was going on, everyone agreed to meet up for dinner, drinks, and the most ridiculous yet always entertaining game of truth or dare - karaoke style.

It was typical of your friends to never do anything the normal way, and this was no different. Instead of selecting songs of personal preference to sing for the room, they were always chosen as either a dare, or a failure to participate in a truth. It was asker's choice, and the victim wasn’t allowed to veto, less they wanted to foot the entire bill for the evening. And between seven men in their mid twenties and the pickled livers of you and your friend, Nari - that was a hefty price to pay. 

Seokjin reaches the chorus, the build up so intense that it’s no surprise when he drops to his knees, his tenor still in pitch and  beautiful despite the theatrics. “I want to know what love is! I want you to show me! I want to feel what love is, I know you can show me!” 

He’s clutching at his chest while staring into Yoongi’s eyes, the younger man expressionless as if this performance was something he saw on the regular. Which, to be fair - it was.

Slinging back the dregs, you lean to grab the bottle of vodka on the table before a large hand beats you to it, Taehyung smiling down at you as he scoots closer. “The usual, milady?” 

You slap his arm, eyes rolling. “Gross, no one says ‘milady’, Tae.” 

He giggles, filling it halfway with the liquor before topping it off with some seltzer - just the way you like it. You were only two drinks in, but the honeyed sound of his laugh always flustered you, a light burn flushing your cheeks. His long, dark hair was wavy and messy in that perfect way that made you want to sink your fingers into it, and between that and the peek of golden chest through the undone buttons of his dark dress shirt, you found yourself feeling thirsty. Well, thirstier than you normally were for Kim Taehyung.

It had become a running gag with the other guys - your little school girl crush on Taehyung, something that they used to tease you at any given opportunity. It seemed to personally offend them that you wouldn’t say anything to the brunette, and no matter how many times you explained you didn’t want to fuck with the group dynamics, they couldn’t seem to stop sticking their noses directly into your business. You’d be annoyed by their immature comments if it wasn’t for the fact that the handsome man seemed completely oblivious to them - and your feelings. 

Thank fuck for that. 

Handing you the freshened beverage, Taehyung moves to pour more into his glass before settling, large thigh pressing into your own. He has always been an affectionate guy, so when he threw an arm over your shoulder just as Seokjin hit the last notes of the song, you didn’t blink an eye. 

However, Jimin did.

He had been watching all night, seeing the way his best friend was buttering you up, going out of his way to try and make you laugh, to make you smile. The way you would scoff and roll your eyes to hide your heated cheeks or the way your thighs were pressing together any time he touched you. Taehyung’s feelings for you were practically neon red signs to Jimin, and yet you seemed obnoxiously unaware - something that was starting to make Jimin crazy. 

Getting involved probably wasn’t wise - neither party had asked for his help. But since when did he ever claim to be wise? Jimin prided himself on being a meddler - he couldn’t just not meddle. Especially when such an opportunity presents itself.

Bowing to the loud cheers, Seokjin moves to sit back down on another sofa, chugging the remnants of his glass. “Alright Joon, it’s your turn - Truth or Dare? And try not to be lame this time, please.”

Namjoon scoffs, faux offense on his face as he glares at his elder. “Hey! Picking truth isn’t lame! I’m telling you my deepest darkest secrets here!” 

“Pretty sure admitting that you want to touch Nari’s tits isn’t a secret, but nice try,” Yoongi deadpans, causing the room to break out in laughter.  You tried to focus on the game, on what ridiculous question Seokjin had prepared for Namjoon, but instead all you could feel was the warmth of Tae’s arm draped around you, all you could think about was how he smelled like a mixture teakwood and lavender, and how much you wanted him to ruin you.

“Y/n!”

Snapping your eyes towards the shout, you come face to face with a deviously smirking Jimin, leaning forward on his knees. He was twirling the straw in his glass like a super villain, and everything about the look he was giving you had your nerves on edge.

“Yes, Jimin? Is there something you need?”

“It’s your turn - truth or dare,” he coos, eyes dancing with mischief. God, he’s such a fucking Slytherin. You were in for it now - you could feel it in your bones.

“Last time I picked ‘dare’ you made me sing half of Evanescence’s discography-”

“Hey, to be fair, you knew it all  by heart and fucking nailed it,” Jungkook interjected, giving you a proud grin.

“Well - yeah, okay I did, thank you very much - but as I was saying, I’ve learned my lesson. I pick truth,” you reply smugly, glaring at the dark haired man. Jimin may look sweet, but luckily you know better than to ignore his cunning.

Which is why you shouldn’t have been surprised when he started cackling.

Eyes creasing into half moons, he threw his head back, running a hand through his hair as he faces you once more, eyebrows waggling. “What’s one thing about Taehyung that you find attractive?”

You choke, grappling for your drink to soothe the burning in your throat, though you were sure it was only making it worse. Face on fire, you looked at him with wide eyes as you cough in a feeble attempt to remember how to speak. 

A warm palm starts patting your back, the man in question leaning down to look into your eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, Tae, I’m fine,” you glare at Jimin, his victorious smirk enraging you further. The last thing you want to do is answer this truthfully; anything obvious is going to weird Taehyung out, but you know if you try and give a lame answer, Jimin will have no issues calling your ass out for it.

“Well, I like his singing voice…” you murmur, eyes focused on the ice melting in your glass, which you immediately bring to your lips once more.

Jimin rolls his eyes, scoffing. “His singing voice? What does that even mean?” he kicks at your leg, pushing you further. “Like… the tone? Or just how it sounds?” he sputters incredulously, choking back a laugh.

“Fuck you! Yes, how it sounds. And also when he does that deep growling thing?” you shiver, shaking your head. “I don’t know, it just gets me. It’s really hot.” 

Whoops, seems the vodka had done some of the talking for you, but it was too late to take it back. You feel your skin heat, but you hold your head high, raising a brow at Jimin in defiance.

The room falls silent for a beat, all eyes on you until Jungkook wolf whistles, everyone breaking out in hoots and yells. You turn to the man next to you, expecting him to blush coyly or even brush you off with a gentle smile - he was nothing if not kind - but instead you find a shit eating grin peering down at you. Cocking your head, you look at him questioningly, but he just winks before slugging back the rest of his drink, his gaze drifting to Jimin’s over your head.

It was all he needed to hear.

Your words were the perfect fuel to the fire of alcohol in his veins to make Taehyung feel bold, yet he was still sober enough to know that this could finally be his chance to show you how he feels.

“Jimin, ask me a question.” Taehyung declares, leaning back into the sofa, dark eyes dancing with mischief. 

“Technically, it’s Y/N’s turn to ask-” Namjoon mumbles, but is quickly shut down by the shouts of displeasure from the group, Hoseok and Jungkook both nudging him while the latter murmurs something about being a ‘cock block’. 

Clearing his throat, he tries again, gaze intense. His eyes are about to fall out of his skull with the power of his attempt at a telepathic message to his friend. “Come on, Jimin. Ask me. You know what? I’ll help you. I pick dare.”

A sly glint of amusement pulls at the edge of Jimin’s mouth, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. You look back and forth between the two of them, not sure what was happening but sure as hell knowing it was going to be nothing be trouble. 

“I dare you to sing a song that shows off your best growling for our girl here,” 

The room erupts in cheers and howls once more, your eyes widening as you reach for your glass. Shit, you’re going to need more vodka to survive this, and you know it. 

Taehyung moves languidly to the front of the room, the side of your body he had been pressed to all evening now left cold. He scrolls through the screen with a sharp focus, honeyed gaze looking over at you every once in awhile to make sure you were still paying attention. And the smile he would give when you were- it practically had your heart in your throat. You looked over at Nari, trying to get her to join you on your couch of pain, but she just blew you a kiss before settling back into her spot next to Yoongi, throwing you a shrug.

That bitch.

All too soon he gives a cheer of victory, looking out over the group as he selects the song, moving to the microphone stand. He poses in front of the room, everyone in attendance on the edges of their seats with anticipation for the music to start.

And then the first notes ring out, and a switch flips.

Gone was the sweet and goofy man you’ve all come to know, and in his place is a demon in black, looking like pure sin. His eyes darken as they land on you,  his lips curving in a confident smirk as he grabs the mic to pull closer to his mouth. Sensual plucks of guitar fills the room in a familiar tune, though a version you hadn’t heard before - the upbeat pop turned into a song of seduction.

“Baby can’t you see, I’m calling. A girl like you should wear a warning. It’s dangerous, I’m fallin’...”

Taehyung is all lust powered flirtation, hips seductively sliding back and forth as he continues to croon the lyrics, casting his molten chocolate eyes to your own. He was dancing closer, his steps slow and purposeful, and you felt the rest of the room fade away as you focused on him - and only him.

The chorus hits, and he smoothly switches from his velvet baritone to growling along with the lyrics, body rolling before sliding on his knees directly in front of you, so close you could see the sweat trail down his neck to bury into the open V of his shirt.

“Taste of your lips I’m on a ride. You’re toxic, I’m slipping under. With a taste of a poison paradise I’m addicted to you - don’t you know that you’re toxic?” he purrs, leaning into you,  a singular finger coming to trace up the exposed skin of your calf.

Everything was suddenly too hot, the room too stifled - you couldn’t get any air to cooperate and flow into your lungs, all your blood pooling in your cheeks. Your heart is racing, sweat dotting your hairline as you stare at the dark haired male in front of you, unable to pull away.

“I think Y/N is about to orgasm in the middle of this bar.”

“Min Yoongi, I swear to FUCK, I will murder you,” you force between clenched teeth, turning to glare at the blonde in question. You can see the retort build on his lips before a palm cups your cheek, pulling your attention back forward.

Taehyung was a breath away from you now, pupils blown wide and voice dangerously low as he continued singing, each word dripping with desire. His hand curves around your jaw, a finger slipping down the long column of your neck until it graced the thin skin of your collarbone.

“Too high, can't come down. It's in the air, it's all around...Can you feel me now?”

Fuck, he was going to ruin you.

Mouth falling open, you squeeze your thighs together uncontrollably, your hands death gripping at the sofa beside you in an effort to keep yourself from moaning. It was embarrassing; how easily his performance was turning you on, how a few throaty murmurs of a song from this man had you falling apart. 

Taehyung was nothing but sinful temptation, and he knew it. 

A small part of you heard the cat calls and lewd shouts from your friends, but you couldn’t concentrate on them. Not when the tall sex god was leaning nearer, using your knees as leverage to pull himself up so he could push your thighs completely together, walking himself forward until he could perch into your lap. Oh my fucking God, he’s sitting in your lap.

The music swells into the ending crescendo, and he continues to rasp the lyrics in low, dulcet tones, eyes never leaving your own. “Intoxicate me now, with your lovin' now. I think I'm ready now, I think I'm ready now,”

You gasped, the intention of the words and the vehement look in his eyes making it seem like it was more than just a song - it was a statement, a confession. Breath seized in your rib cage, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth to stop you from asking more.

Shit, you were ready to risk it all for Kim Taehyung.

Before you could say anything further, he growls out the final lines of the song, the sultriness of his voice causing electricity to race down your spine as he holds out the final note. The music finishes, and his chest is heaving with the effort of his seduction, eyes sparkling with pride.

The entire booth erupts into boisterous claps and cheers, several of the guys standing in ovation causing Taehyung to chuckle nervously, the switch seemingly flipped once more.

He slides off your lap, panting as he moves to pour himself some water, leaving you to gape at him fully. His dark curled locks are dampened with sweat, and despite the easy grin on his face you could clearly still see the fire burning deep in his gaze.

“What the hell, Tae! Where did that come from?” you shout, though a smile was already on your face. “You gotta warn a bitch first, damn. I think I’m sweating,” 

Hoseok moves to stand beside him, slapping a hand onto the younger’s shoulder. “Yeah man, I mean she’s probably dripping everywhere by now.” 

You shriek in indignation, punctuating the sentiment with a lime wedge beamed directly at Hoseok’s over-sized skull.

“Hey, don’t attack me! What, do you need us to get you a pad?”

“Sincerely fuck you, Hobi.”

While the others continue to congratulate Taehyung for his one man show, you suck down the rest of your drink, moving to stand. Your knees wobble, and you’re unsure what affected you more - all the booze you drank, or him. Damn, you need a moment.  Slinking toward the exit, you search for the bathroom,  relief washing over you as you spot it down the hallway. 

You’re about to grab for the handle when lithe fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you to turn around before your back is pressed to the cool wall of the club. You hiss at the contact, eyes blazing as they take in the culprit - Taehyung. 

“Tae?”

He smooths his hands up your arms until each palm is flat against the wall on either side of your head, effectively trapping you in place. His pupils are brimming with depth-less lust though the smile on his face is sweet, the clash making your head swim. 

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you back there,” he murmurs, eyes searching your own. “But it was the perfect chance, and I had to act on it. I couldn’t just sit back and wait any longer, Y/N.” 

“Wait any longer for what? I’m not sure if I’m following-”

“Wait any longer to tell you how I feel about you. Wait any longer to do this.”

You weren’t expecting for his mouth to press against yours, but your lips moved automatically, parting and sighing to accommodate him. His body soon followed, relaxing against your form as his hands moved to cup your jaw. You groaned at the feeling of him, your fingers wrapping around the base of his neck to tangle into his hair. 

Feeling him like this only makes you want more, tongue moving to lick at the seams of his pout before he was sliding his own in kind. He groaned when they met in the middle, the sound causing arousal to pool rapidly low in your gut. Dragging his teeth against your lower lip, he gave you a nibble before pulling away, forehead pressed to yours.

“Does this mean you like me too?” he questions breathlessly, small smile on his face. 

“I’ve always liked you, Tae,” you whisper, turning his head so you could suck at the tender spot under his jaw, his answering whine encouraging your ministrations. “I liked you when we were friends, and I think I like you a bit more after that display.” 

He chuckles lowly, digits sinking into your hair only to pull you back to meet his gaze. “When we were friends? What, are we not friends anymore?”

“Well, not just friends, I hope….” you purr, leaning forward to press your mouth against his swollen bottom lip. “Friends don’t know the way you taste, do they?” 

A groan of your name is his only response before he’s back on you, licking into your mouth with such fervor your knees start to shake. His tongue is relentless, seeking to savor you fully before moving to taste the skin of your neck, your collarbone, the top of your breast. Falling into the lure of Taehyung was all too easy - almost enough to have you forgetting that you were in some stale bar’s dim hallway. 

Grabbing his shoulders, you spin until you have effectively switched places, Taehyung’s tall form now pressed against the wall as you nibble at the exposed skin of his chest. “I think you deserve a performance of your own, don’t you think?” you sigh, eyes inspecting his own, awaiting his approval. 

“I think I’m one lucky bastard who would be a fool to say no to someone as amazing as you,”

The blatant affection in his voice makes you freeze, your throat tightening with every hopeful squeeze of your heart. You were trying to convince him to let you suck him off in the karaoke bar bathroom, and he had to go and say sweet shit like that? 

Shaking your head, you giggle at the sentiment. “You’re too good to me, Tae,” you hum, hands gripping his biceps to drag him towards you, legs propelling you back until you feel the door give way, the light to the restroom automatically clicking on. 

A victorious grin quirks at your lips when you see the private bathroom empty, and a quick flick of your wrist has the door locked just as Taehyung envelopes you into his chest. 

His kisses only intensify, lips undressing you until you were soft and wet and pliant, grasping for anything you could to ground you to him. You make quick work of several more of his buttons until you could nip and bite at his chest unrestricted, your hand fumbling with his belt. 

A low, throaty moan echoed as you grasp his length, freeing him from his trousers enough that you were able to feel him completely in your palm. His cock was just as beautiful as he was, long and thick and dripping with precum, and the thought of having it in your mouth had a rush of arousal flood between your thighs. 

You wince when your knees hit the cool tile, though the promise of tasting him numbed any senses but the ones attuned to him. You thumb at his leaking head softly, his groans edging you near until you could smell his excitement, breath ghosting hot on his cock. Mouth falling open, you slide forward until his hardness was resting on the bed of your tongue, your lips closing to give the tip gentle sucks.

“Fuck, love.  You don’t have to do this, you know, we can-”

Swirling your tongue, you push further, hollowing your cheeks to take him deep into your mouth until he was kissing the back of your throat, your nose nestled into the coarse hairs against his pelvis. His size already had your jaw aching, but the way he groaned your name made it worth the discomfort, and you glide back until only the head remained.

Letting him fall out with a lewd pop, you lick a wide strip up the side of his cock, peering up at him through your lashes. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

“God, please don’t.” 

The words were barely out of his mouth before you moved yours back over his length, taking him as deep as you can each time, relishing the way he stretched your throat. You couldn’t stop imagining how he’d feel inside you, how intense and satisfying the initial burn would be when he was fully sheathed in your aching cunt - how much sweeter your orgasm would feel because it was caused by his cock, caused by him.

His dulcet whines and soft moans were the only sounds besides the wet slide of your mouth, and hearing him sound so desperate for you had you mewling against him, your fingers itching to press against your throbbing clit. 

“You’re taking me so good, love. Feel so fucking amazing  wrapped around my cock,” he hissed, a hand lowering to tangle into the tresses at your crown, guiding you gently. “Such a good girl for me. I’m going to make you come so fucking hard when we get home,”  

His hips started thrusting to meet your movements, the slides becoming sloppy as he got close to his peak. “With my fingers, my  mouth, my cock. I’m going to have you coming so much you’re going to have to beg me to stop.” 

The naughtiness of his words had you moaning around him, the vibrations causing him to let out a cry of your name. You’re sure your panties are ruined at this point, the tops of your thighs sticky with arousal, and as much as you want to touch yourself, you wanted to fall apart under Taehyung even more. 

Pulling off to let air return to your lungs, you glide over him with your fist, urging him to let go. “Come for me, Tae. Let me taste you,” you rasp, before sinking your mouth down him once more. 

“God, you’re so fucking perfect. You gonna swallow me, love?” he breathes, both hands coming to wrap deep in your hair as he continues his pumping, lust filled gaze boring into your own. You nod as you blink up at him, your lips swollen with abuse.

“Fuck, that’s it.. So good, love, I-I’m coming-” 

You still as he tugs at your locks, holding you in place as he thrusts his length deep in your mouth, the warmth of his release coating your raw throat. Swallowing, you allow him several stutters of his hips before he pulls away, hands smoothing to cup your face. 

“Holy hell, Y/N, that was…. Are you okay?” Worry etches his brow as he reaches out for you, taking in your messy appearance - saliva mixed with come dripping from the corners of your lips, black mascara trails smudging the edges of your cheeks. You’re gasping for air, but you couldn’t help the satisfied smile as you took his hands, allowing him to raise you to your feet. 

“Seeing you fall apart was one of the hottest things I’ve ever witnessed, Tae. I’m more than okay, trust me.” 

He blushes at your words, and the irony that the complement made him more shy than when he was ramming his dick down your throat not lost on you.  

He tucks himself back into his pants before adjusting your clothes as well,  delicate thumbs rising to wipe away the remnants of your shared tryst off your face before giving you a chaste kiss. 

“So, does that mean… you’ll go out with me?” he questions hopefully, giddy anticipation in his eyes. You weren’t sure if you would ever get used to the rapid switch of power Taehyung wields between sweet and sin, not that you were complaining. 

“Yes, Tae. I’ll go out with you,” you grin, the brightness of his smile infectious. “Plus, I seem to recall someone promising to make me come so much that I’ll be begging them to stop…” you trail off, mischief evident in your teasing glance.

Throwing back his head with a honeyed laugh, he pushes open the door, arm gesturing out to the empty hall before him. “Ah, yes - I believe you are correct. After you, milady,”

Groaning, you slap his chest as you walk past. “Say that again and I’ll go home with Seokjin.”

[thiscastielhasflown]

🌼💕 get to know your mutuals!! when you get this, it means someone wants to know more about you, so list 5 things about yourself you want your followers to know. they can be as simple as your age or as complex as your deepest fear, as long as it’s something you’re comfortable with sharing. when you’re done, send this to 10 people you want to get to know better!! 💕🌼 (ps i love u)

thank you so much for thinking of me (i love you too)!!! i also wanna tag @eshaninjer for sending me this as well! ✨

1. i’ll give a quick run-down of who/what i am just as an ice breaker because i’m embarrassed and nervous about myself: my name is jace and i am bland, i’m 22, super january aquarius (sun and moon), i do identify as genderfluid and my pronouns are she/they either work just fine truthfully whatever you feel comfortable with. i’m extremely single, but is anyone surprised by that? nope. anddddd that’s about it? right? who knows. 

2. i hate the dark, still have a severe fear of it. i always feel like someone is watching me while i sleep and at this point i don’t know if it’s psychosomatic or i’ve got ghosty/alien friends (which i do believe in--this is a completely other topic that i will go into more depth with only if people are interested in hearing about it). 

3. i really love horoscopes/astrology/tarot, some of my favorite things to learn about and talk with people about, just the face of digging in deep to figure out the reasons behind the way that you are makes me so excited. 

4. i’m still going to college, double majoring in english/creative writing (focus on fiction) and cinema (focus on screenwriting)-- shout out to all of my midwest supernatural fans out there. even though it sounds like i write a lot i will most likely never post any fanfic/drabbles on here because there are plenty of other people you should much rather read than anything i could ever do. but what i will be doing is editing my shitty deancas profound edits (every thursday) for about 10 people to enjoy. 

5. i love cooking/talking about food, one of my passions in life and something that alleviates my SEVERE anxiety and depression without making it worse. i feel like there are so many aspects in life where you cannot control many parts of what’s happening, but with cooking you can put in so much effort and love and most of the times you get a delicious result. 

if anyone else has any questions they want me to answer--i’m totally up for them and my inbox is always open!! love you all so much 

[boymeetsweevil]

(Welcome to) Camp Lonely Heart

Grouping: Camp Counselor!Reader x Camp Counselor!Taehyung

Word Count: ~15.6k lmao 

Warnings/Themes: walkie talkie sex + masturbation, graphic public sex in a field, descriptions throughout of breast play, 69ing, riding, fingering, creampie sorta, some bullying, some angst, concerned older brother Minho, OC is kinda flaky

Summary: It’s possible to find love in all sorts of places: In bars, in school, on apps. But what about through a walkie talkie?

Part of the Masterlist for Group 2 of the @btssmutclub Summer Project

A/N: sorry its late! tagging @classickei and @chimchurro

A noogie from his older brother is the first thing to welcome Taehyung when he arrives at the admin building for the first weekly counselor meeting. He sits through it patiently because he knows Minho means well and it’s better than those times where he just cups Taehyung’s face tenderly and says absolutely nothing. But this is why he insisted they arrive separately.

With Minho’s arm tossed over his shoulder, Taehyung makes his way into the familiar conference room. Despite the fact that this is his 3rd year as a junior counselor, the fact that the conference hasn’t changed since it was built in the 80’s still surprises him every time. The people inside it change fairly frequently, though. There’s always a steady rotation of counselors for both the boys’ and the girls’ camps on their respective sides of Lake Lonely Heart.

A smattering of people are already seated and chatting amongst themselves before the introductory meeting starts. As more people trickle in, Taehyung acknowledges them from his corner seat. Some veteran staff from the boys’ camp naturally come to his and Minho’s side of the table, greeting Minho mostly.

“How was your trip up, son,” asks one of the senior staff, Cref.

“It was good,” Minho gives a genuine smile up at Cref before giving a pointed look in Taehyung’s direction.

“Oh,” Cref’s eyes dim noticeably, “And how was your trip, Tae?”

“It was fine,” Taehyung’s answer matches Cref’s in its lack of warmth.

“I see you kept that little ponytail thing you had last summer.”

“Yeah.”

“Shame,” Cref huffs before turning to some of the other boys’ staff that arrived while he was talking and gesturing to Taehyung.

“Cref can you really talk when you’ve still got that comb-over?” The comment sends the other boys’ staff who’d been listening into a tizzy and Cref scoffs before turning on them to compensate. Meanwhile, Minho gives Taehyung a covert pat on the back.

None of the girls’ staff seemed to be watching the exchange with the exception of one girl who must be a new hire. Taehyung doesn’t recognize her face from last summer and though she’d been snoring softly when Taehyung first arrived, she looks at some of the jeering boys’ staff with a bit of muted disapproval. The look is brief because almost instantly another one of the counselors near her pulls her into another conversation. The sour tinge her features had disappears and leaves a gentle and open expression on her face as she listens to someone tell her about what to expect with her sleeper cabin.

There’s something nice about her face even though nothing specific jumps out at him as super beautiful or sexy. The soft way she smiles is subtle, almost like the turn of lips could have been a trick of the light. He wants to know what a full-blown smile would look like. Taehyung likes to think that he would have gotten up to talk to her. Eventually. If it weren’t for the camp leader entering the room with the dreaded Talking Stick.

“Alright everyone,” the camp leader shouts energetically, halting all conversations. “Veterans don’t spoil anything. Newbies, one of you raise your hand and tell me what you think this is,” she grins and wiggles the bedazzled stick in a wide circle.

Taehyung sighs and settles back further into his chair, ready to endure yet another round of icebreakers and name learning games.

“Here’s your humble abode for the next few months,” Moe grunts as she pushes the door of the cabin in. She smiles shakily before mumbling something about the paint job being so new that the door wouldn’t budge. A few hits to the door with her shoulder help it swing open.

The cabin looks nearly identical to that of Moe and Moe’s roommates. A pair of bunkbeds sit across the main room from one another. There’s some simple wooden furniture and a nice view of forest on the girls’ side of the lake in the front window by the door. The bathroom has two shower stalls and two sinks. The cabin is clearly made to hold four occupants.

“Are my roommates on their way?”

You walk in and admire the posters on the wall. They must have been left by some other counselor some number of summers ago.

“So, uh, you actually get this whole cabin to yourself.”

“Huh? Like I’ll be sleeping here by myself?”

“Yeah. I know its weird, but it’s not on purpose. The rooming system isn’t the most efficient. People fill the first cabin and then we fill the second one and on and on. When we got your answer, it was late and we’d perfectly filled 3 other cabins before this one. And since your position was the last one we filled before closing the apps, there weren’t any other people after you who could have been placed here.”

You try your hardest not to look too dismayed at your lonesome living situation. But, truthfully, one of the things that made you consider taking the position was the friends you were hoping to make on he job. The job testimonies on the Camp Lonely Hearts website mentioned that some of the best times of being a counselor were the times had in the cabin with coworkers after dark. With you being new to the city and this being the first summer in a long while where you weren’t forcing yourself into a boring 9-to-5, you wanted to take a chance on something inspiring instead. And you really wanted to make friends because city life alone was taking a toll on you. The chance to be a ‘youth leader for the young women and men of Camp Lonely Heart’ seemed like just the right thing.

Now, though, it looked like you would have to work a little harder to make the lasting connections you were expecting to fall into your lap the first night on the grounds.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” Moe says when some of the bouncy pluck in your shoulders seems to leave you with the sigh you let out. “You’re welcome to bring a sleeping bag and sleepover in cabin 3 any time.”

“Thanks, Moe.” She leaves you to unpack with the slow setting sun.

Everything seems clean enough under your quick inspection. You take over the bathroom with your toiletries and towels. The bunk bed is less uncomfortable than you thought it would be, and there’s an outlet near your little writing desk, so you’re able to plug in and set up your boombox. There’s no wifi at the camp, and while it’s an experience you’re looking forward to, you can’t live in total silence. You did, however, bid all your friends a temporary goodbye on Facebook after explaining where you’d be for the summer.

You switch the boombox onto radio mode and extend the boosted antennae. It picks up a classics station that you unpack to. The job is over quickly given that you only had to pack a few undergarments and pairs of shorts to rotate with the t-shirts that they give to counselors so people don’t confuse some of you with campers.

When boredom starts clawing at the edges of your brain, you snoop through all the little corners and crannies you ignored when you first arrived and were busy with settling in. You don’t find much. You find a shoebox with a bunch of office supplies under the other bunk bed, a supremely large beetle carcass on your window sill, and a solar powered walkie talkie in the bottom drawer of the writing desk.

The walkie talkie obviously is the most intriguing find out of all of your finds, but you don’t see its mate in the cabin. Surprisingly enough, it powers up, but it has a low battery. You fiddle with the channels and mumble a wimpy little ‘anyone there’ into the first one. Figuring that no one is there, you lower it from your ear and move to go make your bed when the device sounds.

“Hello?”

The voice is deep and smooth. You’re so spooked by the response that the walkie talkie slips from your hand and clatters to the floor with a loud clunk. You let out a curse and bend down to pick it up only to find that the transmission was cut off from the impact. With the hopes that you can revive the device, you stick it in the bathroom window where you know it will get the most sun during the day and pray it's not broken.

Before you head to bed early, you go over your schedule and how you’re going to present yourself to the kids the next morning. It takes a while for you to memorize your schedule because your mind is slightly preoccupied,  wondering what the person on the other end must be thinking of your sudden departure.

You were worried that it would take a while to adjust to your position and that the kids would be intimidating, but quickly you realize there was nothing to worry about.

You love your girls more than you could have predicted. They took to you instantly since you were the youngest among the counselors. Even the 17-year-olds, who are the oldest campers there, flocked to you too during parts of the daily schedule that you weren’t leading. Many of the girls in high school would drag you to their table in the mess hall during dinner or the free period before lights out to ask you for school advice and questions about the more mysterious parts of life. It instills in you a strong sense of responsibility that you didn’t think was possible. You didn’t think you’d ever find teenagers endearing.

The camp itself is kind of like a hazy afternoon dream. The nature around you is beautiful and the air is crisp. If you take a 20 minute trek away from the main grounds, you stumble into the camp’s medium sized lavender field. It’s your favorite place to be at any time of the day because the air is thick with the scent of the purple flower. The first time you see it, you’re joining one of the other junior counselors, Jade, to grab some plants for craft time.

“You’re gonna trap flies like that,” Jade gestures to your slack mouth.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just that we barely even get grass on the sidewalks at my new apartment. And this is...so beautiful.”

You can’t help it really. The sweet scent that had been coating your nose and throat since you were halfway up the trail just increased ten-fold and has stolen the place of your breath.

“Yeah, it has that effect on people. But you get used to it after working here long enough and the smell starts to fade. You might even get a little sick of it.”

You shake your head to clear it and try to fathom the idea of being sick of lavender. The rows of plants are lush, huge, and neat. You walk through the small plowed paths between each bush looking for the most fragrant patch you can find. There’s what looks like a few other counselors from the other side of the lake wandering through some nearby rows, looking for the same thing you are. You tap Jade’s shoulder when their backs are turned to you and whisper.

“They’re from the boys’ camp, right? Do you know those guys? ” Jade turns and squints into the distance before straightening up immediately.

“Oh my god, yeah, that’s Minho. He’s the yoga instructor for the boys.” Her tone takes on a wispy, dreamy quality. “He’s so nice and so cool. And, like, really funny.”

The man in question has on a shockingly bright Tiffany blue t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to beat the heat. And perhaps showcase his sculpted arms. He looks tall and broad from your vantage point, but he doesn’t seem extraordinary at first glance. Maybe he’s really great once you get to know him.

“What about the other one?” The slightly shorter man with the tiny ponytail and coke-bottle glasses catches your attention more. Even though he’s fairly far away, you can tell he has a nice profile. Jade squints again and hums in thought.

“Mm, I don’t know. I think he’s one of the newer guys. I don’t really remember his spiel from the intro meeting. Do you know him?”

“No,” you give him one last look before squatting down and getting to work. “Just curious.”

***

“—and then move this finger here,” Taehyung nudges one of the camper’s fingers until it’s sure to make the guitar in his hands sing that way he wants. “That’s the last part of the chord. So from there you can play that song we went over in musical hour. Did you take notes?”

“Yeah.” The kid in front of him is probably no more than 16, maybe a baby-faced 17. He looks too nervous for an impromptu guitar review during free time.

“Kook, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Jungkook hangs his head a little in embarrassment. “Just...what if I suck at guitar?”

“Then you suck at guitar,” Taehyung shrugs. “It’s okay to not be good at things. Especially if you’re just learning them for the first time.”

“I know, but I really need to be good at this. I have to be able to learn a song in less than a week by the time camp ends.”

“That can be kind of fast depending on the song. Why do you need to learn songs so quick?”

Jungkook’s round cheeks heat up and he eyes his peers who are playing jacks at one of the dinner tables. “There’s this girl...”

Taehyung hums knowingly and smiles down at the kid. “I see. Did you tell her you could play guitar?”

“How did you know?” Jungkook’s are wide as he eyes Taehyung like he read his mind.

“Just a guess.”

The camper nods. “I told her I’d learn her favorite song and play it for her when she gets back from vacationing with her parents. But I obviously don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Well, I can’t promise you that you’ll become a prodigy before the end of camp, but I’ll let you borrow my guitar every day as long as you promise to practice like you mean it every time.”

“If I do that, do you think I’ll at least be able to learn her song?”

“I’ll personally help you learn the song.” Jungkook’s shoulder relax instantly once he realizes he’s in good hands.

***

“Star, it’ll be fine. Really,” you try your hardest to get the tiny middle schooler to stop shaking without drawing attention to her as you bring her into the admin building. “Once your mom picks up, I’m sure she’ll understand and she’ll bring your hormones over.”

“I know,” Star’s frame shivers with the force of her hiccups, her eyes pink and watery. “But I can’t believe I forgot them at all. She didn’t even wanna let me go because she was worried I’d lose them.”

“But you didn’t lose them, sweetpea. You forgot them. Kinda different.” The little sobs, now intermittent at best, halt as she processes your logic.

You show Star to the telephone used for emergency contact or extreme cases of homesickness before stepping away to let her have some privacy with her mother. In the meantime, you let the borrowed keys of Moe’s truck swing from your fingers while you explore the halls of the admin building.

It feels odd roaming the various wings of the building when you’re not there for your Wednesday morning staff check-ins. The layout isn’t any different from those days, but you rarely get to see the other parts since you usually just make a beeline for the conference room.

The white painted cinder block walls and the linoleum tiles give you flashbacks to your own adolescent days in school. As does the un-ironic use of retro inspirational posters—though you suppose they weren’t retro when they were first put up. A few doors leading to utility closets or other, smaller conference rooms. While hunting for the staff lounge, you find a counselor you recognize from your side of the lake talking covertly with a counselor presumably from the boys’ side. Your roll your eyes when they give a disdainful stare for breaking their private moment and keep snooping.

At the end of the hall is the communal laundry room. The lines for it are usually awful on Wednesdays. You peer in just to see what it is you don’t have to deal with since you have your own unit in your little cabin. In that moment, you catch someone holding up boxers. You recognize them as that Minho guy that all the counselors seemed to have fallen for.

“Did you find any extra detergent, Tae?” He turns to you then and realizes you’re not who he thinks you are and you’re out of there as quickly as possible.

When you get back to the phone, Star is waiting patiently with no more tears and news that her mom will be dropping off her hormones and some homemade fudge.

***

Breakfast is served to the counselors at asscrack od dawn so that they can get the mess hall ready for the campers and complete the first things on the schedule for the day. Usually it's not so bad, but today’s early rise is hard for Taehyung because Minho brought some of the other counselors into their cabin the night before and they didn’t leave until late.

So when Taehyung stumbles into the mess hall looking for pancakes, he hasn’t given any thought to his morning appearance. He fixes his plate and sits across from his brother since the spot next to him is taken by Cref.

Taehyung’s wearing an old t-shirt that’s gone through many of his more experimental phases with clothes. The previously white t-shirt is now a soft apricot color after a night he was practicing with dyes a few years ago and the sleeves are thin in the places he took scissors to the shirt.

“Nice lingerie,” Cref sneers down his nose at Taehyung while he picks at his breakfast meat sleepily. “You know, I think I saw something at the mall a few weeks ago.”

A few of the guys sitting on the side laugh, some even dumbly repeat the joke under their breath as they chuckle into their breakfast.

“Fuck off, Cref.” Taehyung’s sigh comes out deeply tired. More tired than one could be from one night up too late from a noisy roommate’s friends. “It’s too early for this.”

“Yeah, Cref,” Minho pipes up, eyes locked on Taehyung’s sleep-puffy face and messy long hair. “We all know you don’t personally have the ass to pull off anything in a lingerie shop. And you definitely don’t have anyone’s ass to pull them off of either. You just sound sad, man.”

Cref stammers at Minho’s comment, not missing the subtle way the jab went a little deeper than it normally does when the two are just ripping on one another for fun. He admits defeat and sends a little nod in Taehyun’s direction. The same guys who were giggling earlier look on at Minho with some awe and are quick to jump on Cref for his non-existent ass as well.

When Minho kicks him under the table, Taehyung gives him a small thumbs up before taking his now half-eaten plate away to dump.

***

Dinners are normally spent at a table off to the side with the campers because they want to be able to treat you less like an authority figure and more like a wise older sister. But tonight you’re eating with the other counselors because you’re missing adult company. It’s been hard to have any of the bonding moments you were hoping for and there’s not much time during the day to have them when you’re trying to patch up skinned knees and guide macaroni projects.

Even though everyone is friendly enough and does try to make sure you feel included, you can’t help but notice how peripheral you are. After a few weeks, everyone has their designated dinner seat, so you were forced to pull up a chair to eat. Once the plates were cleared, you still felt a little left out. Apparently everyone makes a habit of staying up a little later than you so they can have time to unwind and talk about the day together in the other cabins. Apparently, people even share bunks occasionally so that they can visit non-roommate staff for the night.

You know you’re really not part of the group when the conversation becomes 80% inside jokes and you can’t recognize or understand a single one. The girl next to you attempts to explain the first few, but it slows the conversation down and you can tell that people are losing their patience when a story has to halt for you to catch up on nicknames or events. She stops explaining after the 4th one and you don’t really blame her. Maybe you should have spent dinners with them more. Or maybe you shouldn’t have gone to bed so early; even on the nights where you felt the exhaustion in your bones.

While everyone laughs about something someone said one night earlier in the summer, you construct a mental pros and cons list in your head. You could stick around and try to scrape through every single thing everyone says until you get all the jokes and can understand why random things like the brisket you’re eating is so funny. Or you can accept that you’ll probably have to forge these connections individually and not feel bad about getting well-deserved rest when you need it.

You opt for the latter and genuinely explain to everyone that while you had a nice time, you’re feeling a little fatigued. No one looks like they’ve caught on, but no one looks too upset to see you go either. The conversation continues to flow as you leave the dining hall, no need to fill the space you left because you didn’t really leave one. The walk from the mess hall to your cabin is short and brisk and you feel as though you’re not sure you made the right choice. You hope sleep will clear your head.

But before you get to the little fork in the foot trail that separates the other cabins from yours, you get struck with a current of rebellion. If you’re going to be lonely, you might as well make the solo time as fun as possible. So you sneak behind one of the cabins, searching for the cooler you know is wedged under the raised foundation. The first night there, someone showed you the booze that they brought in behind the camp leader’s back during the strict luggage inspection. If you recall correctly, you remember this girl saying that her boyfriend drives up during the weekly meetings and drops off new cases of beers for her to scoop up under the guise of a “bathroom break”.

When you open the cooler, there’s several 40s sitting in a bath of ice. It’s not your drink of choice, but beggars can’t be choosers. You take two for good measure and skip off to go drink on your porch with the radio blaring from inside the cabin.

***

“Tae, come on. You haven’t pulled your trunks out once since we got here.”

Minho whines fairly well for someone of his stature and it’s convincing enough with the pouty lips and the puppy eyes that Taehyung really does consider it. ‘It’ being swapping his pajamas for some board shorts and heading out to the lake for a night swim. Apparently the water will be refreshing in the thick and heavy heat in the night air. One of the other counselors had promised a smuggled beer, but Taehyung isn’t really interested in tempting fate.

“I don’t think I’m up for it,” Taehyung says while pushing Minho out the front door of their cabin. His biggest fans Jay and Dan are waiting outside and groan when Minho turns back again.

“You sure you don’t want to come? Maybe you’ll end up having fun. You never know.”

Jay whispers to Dan then. “I don’t know why he’s always so obsessed with bringing him around to stuff. It’s not like he adds anything to the mood, you know?”

It’s loud enough for Taehyung to hear, though he doesn’t think it was supposed to be heard. Minho instantly shoves Jay into Dan, who both go stumbling off the steps of the cabin porch. A moment later his eyes admit defeat and he pats Taehyung’s shoulder.

“Do you want company? I can stay in and you can, like, teach me the color wheel again.”

“Really, it’s fine. I’m gonna do some reading. I brought a few books that I’ve been wanting to crack open. And I’m kinda tired. Don’t worry about me.”

***

By the time you’ve finished half of your second bottle, you’ve migrated back into your cabin. Drunk-you is a little paranoid and worried that the camp leader will show up out of nowhere and see you intoxicated. Although, as you flop onto your bed, you’re not sure that’s such a bad thing. At least then you’d have company, you muse.

The bottle hangs from your lax fingers and you take a look at your surroundings. The screen door is facing out towards the lake and the view shows that the boys’ side of the camp is still awake with the lights from their own cabins shining like small beacons back at you. Then you look back and there’s the four walls of wood. You wonder briefly if its pine or oak before realizing you’re a little too drunk if you’re trying to distinguish between types of lumber. You do appreciate the wood’s warm tone and the natural striations that add some intrigue to the otherwise bland walls. If it weren’t for the abandoned Kiki’s Delivery Service poster on one wall facing your bed, you might think you were in a wooden version of solitary confinement.

Your head turns to rest more comfortably on your pillow and you gaze up at the little writing desk below the window that faces the woods behind the cabin. A little blurry shadow obscures some of the view of the forest and you sit up to see it better. It’s the little walkie talkie you discovered on the first day.

Drunkenness and boredom compel you to leave the softness of your mattress and stumble over to the window. The walkie talkie spent several weeks in the sun, so you figure it can’t be out of battery. You also figure it can’t have actually been destroyed from the meter it fell from your hand to the floor that one day. So you flip the power switch with blind hope and squeal excitedly when it turns on. Pressing the ‘talk’ button, you hop around the main room of the cabin and hum into the first channel. The song you’re singing is a broken version of a tune your grandfather used to always have floating in the air of his house from his record player. The melody sloshes together at certain points like the contents of the bottle you continue to take generous swigs from.

***

Taehyung’s reading in his bed, trying to tune out the sounds of distant splashing and shouting coming from his co-counselors by the lakeside. When he picks up the sound of sloppy singing, he wonders if Minho has come back to the cabin for a towel or to try to convince him to come back out again. But the door of the cabin doesn’t swing open. Taehyung is confused for about 5 more seconds before he’s eyeing the dark space under his bed suspiciously. There, underneath a sheet that fell down the crack between the mattress and the bed, is the walkie talkie that’s been collecting dust since the night before the camp session started.

He shifts an arm down behind the bed and disentangles the device from the sheets and dust bunnies. Sure enough, the broken lilting of the soft tune is coming from the walkie talkie. To say he’s surprised is an understatement. A few weeks prior, he’d turned on the walkie talkie by accident and a moment later someone’s voice sparked from the speaker. He was intrigued enough by the voice to leave the device on during the day, charging it often in case whoever was on the other side would want to tune in again.

Now, the fog of sleep rises to make room for this little mystery. He doesn’t try to speak just yet. Instead, he lets your voice continue your rendition of a few songs mashed into one from a famous jazz album. When your voice putters out because you forget where the rest of the tune’s trail leads, Taehyung smiles to himself.

“I really—hic—wish someone was there,” your whisper crackles through the speaker.

He worries a bit about scaring you off again, but the urge to speak outweighs the worry. He holds the device up to his mouth hesitantly. “Someone is.”

“Oh.” You don’t seem nearly as startled as you were last time he spoke up. “The void speaks.”

“Believe it or not, I’m not the void.”

“Well,” you hiccup more into the walkie talkie and the sound is funny and tiny. “I suppose you’re not if you say you’re not. But who’s to say the void isn’t just a consciousness trapped in a reality that won’t answer back.”

“Wow. Do you normally philosophize in the midnight hour while drinking?”

The sound of you taking a large swig from your 40 washes into his side. “How did you know I’ve been drinking?”

“Call it a hunch,” he grins up at the slats of the mattress above his own.

“Well, what are—what are you doing?”

“Me?” For some reason the question takes him by surprise. “I’m just reading.”

“Reading what?”

“N-nothing.” He stares down at the book he was reading. “It’s just an art book.”

“What kind of art?”

“Uh, Van Gogh,” he trails off, waiting for your reaction.”Van Gogh’s art.”

“Oh, that kid. Nice one.” You let out a burp, but otherwise sound completely serious.

Taehyung can’t help the laughter that takes over him. It’s not that your reaction was stupid, but it was so unexpected and nonchalantly ridiculous that his brain can only react with laughter. You grumble at him through the speaker, but don’t actually take offense. He laughs for so long that you’re silent on the other line when he finally calms down.

“Sorry,” he wipes at his eyes, “I didn’t mean to laugh at you like that. I just...I’ve never heard anyone do something like that.”

“‘s okay,” your shrug is practically audible.

“Hey, you’re not a camper from the girls’ side, are you?”

“Are you asking if I’m one of Camp Lonely Hearts’ young women?” Your voice takes on a strange lisp in attempt to sound hauty.

“Yes?”

“Well, sadly I’m not. I’m a counselor over there, though.”

“I think this is the first time I’ve talked with one of you guys this whole summer.”

Back in your cabin, you have the walkie talkie resting against your ear after having fallen back into bed. Your feet are at the wrong end of the mattress, but you don’t care because the sound of the deep voice on your little radio is soothing and pairs well with your beer exhaustion.

“Mmm, me too.”

Your breathing slows and evens out, lengthening in Taehyung’s ear. He lays the walkie talkie down then, realizing that you’re probably on the verge of falling asleep. From the sound of it, you probably fell asleep with the ‘talk’ button still activated. He switches his walkie talkie off after mumbling an awkward ‘goodnight’ and lays the device down on the ground near his bed. He falls asleep quickly that night.

*** After waking up slightly hungover but not hungover enough to be without memory of the night before, you panicked.

Whoever this mystery person was on the other end of the walkie talkie, you had babbled dark philosophical nonsense at them for a good five minutes before doing who knows what else. You were so embarrassed you could hardly swallow down the overlooked eggs they served you for breakfast that morning. Being on kitchen duty didn’t help the upset stomach. You felt nauseated by your dopey antics and the smells of the meat and eggs you were frying for the campers’ breakfast.

The only thing that settled your stomach was the resolute plan you made to apologize to the mystery person over your lunch break. You hoped to all that was good in the world that the other person wasn’t a camper that was so scarred by your actions that they already reported you to the camp leader. Although, something about their tone when they asked you if you were a camper the night before made you think they were a counselor like you. It was the nerves and the hint of disappointment that even drunk-you picked up on. Nerves and disappointment about what, though?

With all your musing, you’re spaced out during physical education period and get brained by a volleyball. It’s actually a blessing in disguise because it means you get sent home and don’t have to work the dinner shift. The walk back to your cabin is full of you patting the tender skin of the back of your head while you practice your explanation for why your dignity is still actually intact and why you’re not as weird as you may have seemed last night.

But when you get back to your cabin, you find that you’re more nervous of the idea that no one picks up than the idea that they do pick up to give you a piece of their mind. Still, you switch the device on because you want to explain yourself. The first channel crackles to life again and you press the ‘talk’ button.

***

“I’m telling you, if these kids would just put their phones down, their spinal alignment would be so much better. You ever looked at their little shoulders? They looks like fucking mole hills. Makes me wanna cry.”

Minho is trying as best he can to remain still despite how much the topic of young people’s posture riles him up. Taehyung appreciates the effort, though, as it makes Minho’s silhouette much easier to capture on his canvas. On nights when there isn’t much to do, Taehyung takes out his paints and sometimes gets his older brother to be his model. In exchange, Minho gets to rant to a whole person about the dangers of office chairs on the coccyx or whatever the sexy new topics are in his chiropractors' digest.

Tonight is one of those nights and Taehyung’s managed to fill the canvas with three different poses and has also learned why he shouldn’t ever cross his legs for extended periods of time or diss nursing shoes until he’s tried them. But before he can ask Minho to find another position to hold, the walkie talkie by the foot of his bed fires up; on from when he turned it on as soon as he got back into his cabin for the day.

“Hello? It’s me,” your voice calls tentatively out into the air.

“Ooooh, who’s that?” Minho’s eyes turn into little semi circles as he grins at Taehyung. The mocking coos are inaudible to you because Taehyung hasn’t pressed the ‘talk’ button and he’s glad for that too. He quickly flips Minho the bird before scooping up the little device and leaving to sit on the porch.

Time stretches thin as you wait for an answer. The seconds are long. Long enough that your face is hot with unnamed shame and you’re reaching to switch the device off when—

��Hey. Sorry about the delay.”

“Hey!” You pull back automatically before remembering you’re the one who initiated the call. No backing down now. “So, I’m—I’m sure you remember the other night.”

“I do,” he snickers and recalls the way you’d bumbled around verbally. “Are you back for a repeat performance?”

“Uh, no. I actually wanted to apologize for being so weird yesterday. I was kinda drunk and I didn’t think about the fact that I might be bothering someone by turning this thing on and talking into it.”

“You didn’t bother me.”

“I didn’t?” You were just about to venture into the next part of your prepared speech, but now that you don’t need to, you’re at a loss for words. “That’s...good to hear. Are you sure? I can be kind of a lot when I’m drunk.”

“I really didn’t mind. It was a nice change from—I mean, it was funny. And nice.”

“Nice? I can’t remember the last time someone said I was nice.” The laugh behind your voice is subtle, but it sweetens the tone of your already pleasant words until Taehyung is smiling again.

“Glad to be of service, then,” he shoves a hand in his pocket.

“You sound nice too,” you blurt out. The sound of your feet hitting the floor in a little dance of embarrassment are thankfully too soft to reach Taehyung’s ears. “I mean—”

“Thanks. So,” he clears his throat softly, “do you like jazz?”

From that night on, you and Taehyung begin talking with one another via walkie talkie. Every night, a few hours before sunset, one of you will send out a little message to the other. Nearly like clockwork. Nearly because there are some nights where the conversation gets put on the back burner. Those were unusual nights, though. On one of those nights, the older counselors wanted to host an ABBA karaoke night with some of the older campers in the dining commons and you couldn’t miss it because 1) the 17-year-olds really like you, and 2) you can completely body an ABBA song despite the fact that you were never an avid fan growing up. Another one of those nights Taehyung couldn’t make it because Minho dragged him out of the room to play flashlight tag in the woods. He didn’t even have time to change out of his paint-stained shirt, much less shoot you a quick warning about not being able to talk. Although you didn’t like being left hanging, when he explained why he was busy the following night, you completely understood. Because, really, how often does an adult flashlight tag opportunity come up?

Even still—on nights like those you both miss each other’s voices.

99% of the time, though, you both make time for talking with one another. When you both are in, you talk about anything and everything. From family and life outside the camp to joke competitions that have Minho snorting to himself from under the covers even though he’s supposed to be asleep. The number of movie and book recommendations you’ve swapped only to find out that the other person was a fan is almost too high to not make you wonder if you’re actually stuck in some cliché young adult summer novel.

These days Taehyung’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Usually he doodles what he thinks you could look like in his Moleskin while ignoring Minho’s weird soft looks or wiggly eyebrows. Sometimes he’s not up for sharing his cool new digital pal with his brother and he’ll migrate outside, to the back of the cabin, and endure the bugs so he can enjoy your voice in peace. The only downside is that Minho won’t let him live it down. The countless jokes about his new lady friend only get worse when Minho slips up one breakfast and lets all the other counselors know that Taehyung’s been avoiding the group to talk to you. The raucous applause was one thing, but Cref’s fake pride that Taehyung managed to capture female attention was enough to have him kicking Minho under the table for his indiscretion. But it wasn’t all that bad.

You’re fairly content with the way things are as well. You’ve managed to get your boombox radio to play a local ‘best of’ jazz station and it reminds you of your myste when you’re not talking with him. It's only until you catch yourself trying to recall Taehyung’s appearance that you realize what you’re missing. That is, you don’t know what he looks like and that makes you feel odd. In theory, people don’t need to know what their friends look like. Pen pals and mutuals on social media sites don’t always know what their internet friends look like and still manage to talk for years and feel a real sense of closeness. But you keep wondering. Is he tall, is he brunet, is he pretty?

The thought keeps plaguing you until one day the question just tumbles out of your mouth. It’s a Tuesday, and you’re getting ready for bed because you have to be up earlier on Wednesdays for the weekly meetings. Taehyung had just been telling you about a flip that the arts director did that morning off the pier. It was a grisly story of broken legs and nose bleeds and how Taehyung  became both the arts and music counselor until further notice. You’d been trying to listen diligently but you couldn’t help drifting off. You’re trying to picture Taehyung’s face solely off the timber of his voice when that same voice blares a little louder than normal in your ear.

“Yo, did you fall asleep on something?”

“How tall are you?”

“Uh,” is all you get back from him. And it’s honestly an appropriate response to such a blunt change of subject.

“Sorry, that was kinda rude of me. It’s just that I realized that you’re probably the closest person to me in this whole camp and we’re not even on the same side of the lake...I just realized I don’t even know your name. And I definitely wouldn’t be able to pick you out in a crowd.”

“That’s—that’s true,” he gnaws thoughtfully on his lip and Minho raises his surprised and bespectacled gaze from a physical rehabilitation manual. “I’m Taehyung.”

He’s not sure how he managed to spend weeks talking with you nearly every night only to never ask for your name. When he was alert and talking with you, he felt no gaps, he didn’t even think to ask. But, Taehyung thinks, maybe the thought came to him when he was on the fuzzy border of sleep and wakefulness. When he was most open and sometimes the yearning slipped out. He doesn’t say any of that to you, of course. He just listens to you reply with your own name and repeats it to you until you’re praising him for the way it sounds on his tongue. Minho makes fun of him and whispers your name in a squeaky voice that’s supposed to be Taehyung’s.

“I like your name,” you chirp. You’re so happy to have one more piece to the puzzle that is Taehyung that you almost forget your original question. “So, Taehyung, what do you look like.”

“I’m 5’10.5,” he starts. “And I have...blond hair. All my friends tell me I have a perfect face–”

“Is that so?”

“–and a great chest-to-waist ratio. I don’t wear makeup, b-but if I did my MAC shade would be NW30.” Minho narrows his eyes at Taehyung, but the younger man simply turns away.

“That’s nice?” You sound a bit baffled by the description as well, but you try to take it in stride and picture it.

The resulting image in your mind isn’t exactly what you expected, but you guess you can’t be surprised that he looked different from how you imagined when you didn’t even know his name. You rattle off your own appearance, though not quite so awkwardly. When you’re finished, you wonder what he imagines with the description you gave. What does he think, you wonder. Do I sound nice?

Taehyung, on the other hand, realizes instantly who you are. You’re the girl that was falling asleep during the first meeting. He remembers watching your head lolling back and forth during the icebreaker and trying to contain his laughter when the camp leader shouted loud enough to wake you. He remembers your boisterous laughter at the third weekly meeting when someone thought it would be funny to round up 5 squirrels and release them into the conference room to watch the mayhem unfold. If he’s being honest, he’s actually more excited with the connection he’s made now. He’s glad it’s you. It makes sense.

“Well, I guess this will make tomorrow’s meeting a little more fun, right?”

“Huh,” he snaps out of deep thought. “Why?”

“Because now we can talk to each other in person.” Your voice is brimming with excitement and it’s easy to hear even through the half mile of distance and the static-y connection. “I’ll be able to find you now.”

“Yeah,” his voice trails off guiltily but you don’t catch onto it because you’re busy smoothing out your sheets.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Taehyung,” you bid him goodnight with extra giddy emphasis on his name now that you can actually use it. It’s cute and should probably bring a smile to his face, but as he turns off the device, he can only purse his lips in frustration.

The sounds of sheets rustling remind him of his brother’s presence and he lets out a sigh, waiting for the lecture that’s about to come.

“So,” Minho begins slowly, “How come the person you described was cousin Jin when she asked you what you looked like?”

“In my defense, I...”

“In your defense, what? I’m really curious about what your explanation is.”

“I didn’t want her to be disappointed. And no one’s ever been disappointed by Jin’s looks, so when I got nervous I just gave her his greatest hits.”

“I heard. The foundation thing was a little much.”

“Yeah,” he sighs.

“Why do you think she would be disappointed?”

“I don’t know. I guess if for some reason the appearance stuff was important to her, I thought it made sense not to leave things to chance. In case that would mess things up.”

“But what if, to her, lying is even worse than having an ‘ugly’ friend,” Minho asks with air quotes included.

“Then...I fucked up big time.” Taehyung holds his head in his hands for a few minutes before eventually looking up helplessly. “But I didn’t do it to spite her or anything.”

“Did you really just do it because you thought she would be disappointed? She doesn’t sound that shallow to me, and I don’t know her like you do.”

“Yes and no,” he groans and tosses himself onto the mattress. “I mean, I wanted to seem good in her eyes. Someone she might...like?”

“Someone she might like? She does like you.”

“Someone she might,” Taehyung eyes Minho softly, “want to be with.”

“Ah,” he nods sagely. “So it’s like that.”

“It’s like that.”

“Then you know what you need to do.”

“Yeah. I’ll tell her tomorrow. During the meeting.”

***

Taehyung figures that the idea of preserving his friendship with you being so important will make confessing his lie to you super easy. But when he lumbers into the meeting room the following morning at 6:30, the nerves take over. He grows silent. He stays silent when you come in looking too chipper for a normal morning meeting. And when you spend the majority of the meeting studying the face of every counselor from the boys’ side of the camp, looking for the man described to you on the phone yesterday and not finding him. And when the meeting officially adjourned and you’re standing around hoping for some sort of explanation. Silent when he eventually slips out while Minho is in the bathroom and someone has started chatting you up.

He knows that eventually he’ll have to face you—figuratively speaking. The floor will probably have a trench plowed into it from where he paces the area in front of his bunk anxiously. Sundown is soon and normally you’d be tuning in at this time to see what his plans are for the night and talk about each other’s days. But as the minutes tick by, his walkie talkie stays quiet. Minho pins him with an expectant look before mumbling something about going to go hang out in someone else’s cabin. Maybe he thought Taehyung would benefit from the privacy, but the empty space on the other side of the room just makes him more aware of how the ball is in his—and only his—court. He picks up the walkie talkie and presses the ‘talk’ button.

“You there?” When he gets no response at first, he presses again. This time, he just calls your name pleadingly. Surprisingly, you pick up.

“Is this Taehyung?”

“What? Yes, who else—”

“Or maybe this is Mr. tiny waist dorito face SPF 30. Can’t tell who’s who these days.”

He ducks his head. The smile in his voice is self-deprecating. “It’s me. Taehyung.”

“What can I help you with this evening?” Your voice is sharper than it normally is, but subtly so. He almost wants you to just yell at him instead.

“I just wanted to say sorry.”

“For friend-catfishing me?”

“Yes. For lying and for not coming clean at the meeting when I first saw you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything at the meeting,” your voice wavers a bit, traitorous in the way it shakes. “I was looking for you.”

“I know. I really was gonna tell you. You can ask Minho. But I just got scared all of the sudden. Like as soon as you saw me, you’d regret the decision to ever talk with me.”

“Tae, I wouldn’t do that. I really...I care for you. Something like that doesn’t just go away because what you pictured in your head isn’t 100% reality.”

Your words are simple, but he feels comfort from them. The grip he had on the plastic of the walkie talkie loosens significantly and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“I still haven’t been completely honest with you, yet.”

“What is it now. Do you even work here?”

“No, no,” he chuckles and the sound drives you to chew on your thumb. “When you asked me what I looked like that night, I described my cousin to you.”

“Yes, ok, we’ve established that you’re not really Mr. Dorito head. What else is there,Taehyung, you’re making me nervous.”

“Hear me out.” You huff but otherwise settle for tapping your foot rapidly to channel the nerves productively. “I told you that I did that because I thought you wouldn’t want to be friends with me. But that’s not the only reason.”

“Okay,” you trail off.

“I did it because I thought maybe if you thought I was handsome, it would make it easier for you to, uh, return the feelings I have for you. I...like you. In a like-like way.”

“I see.”

Now it’s your turn to stretch the pause out until Taehyung’s fisting tufts of his hair in his free hand. The walkie talkie is probably going to leave a red imprint on his face from how hard he’s pressing it to his cheek, but he doesn’t even register the discomfort.

“I really don’t like that you lied to me,” you begin. “But, since I really like-like you, you can be on probation.”

The sound of exaggerated gagging sounds from the entryway of the cabin where Minho has been eavesdropping for the last five minutes. Taehyung doesn’t even bother to chastise his older brother for getting into his business and instead lets laughter bubble passed his lips.

Not too much changed after the night you both confessed to one another. Supposedly that’s a sign that you had a good foundation for your romantic relationship. But there are little changes and they’re noticeable. Much to Minho’s chagrin.

Most notably to everyone involved, since that night, the tone of the walkie talkie conversations shifted. Now your voices have become a little more hushed and Taehyung absolutely refuses to pick up the device unless he’s alone, whining until Minho leaves the cabin or is truly asleep. If the talks go on late enough, midnight moonlight lays a forlorn, whispered feel over you both and things become a competition for who can be the mushiest. The air is made of breathy laughs that bleed into sighs and unironic use of ‘No, you hang up first’. It’s all so rosy and the happiness you feel starts to stain your cheeks and smile. The other counselors notice too. A few give you meaningful looks like they’ve caught on. Moe, especially, looks proud to see that the dour cloud that was hovering over you has dissipated some. Others don’t quite have it right. They ask you if you’ve been sneaking weed into the camp. You don’t give up your secret for either of them. Mainly because you could face disciplinary action, but also because you don’t want the next time there’s a meeting to be turned into a spectacle. It’s not lost on you that you still don’t know what Taehyung looks like. But you were being sincere when you said that you didn’t need that to care for him.

Still, the curiosity wears on the edges of your consciousness every now and then. You can’t quite ignore the idea that you guys are sort of dating—that you may have a boyfriend at the end of this summer—and you still can’t tell when you’re in a room with him. Despite this, you feel a visceral attraction to him growing from what was a gentle simmer to a boil the longer you exchange pillow talk with him. At the right moments of the night, your hands itch to feel the solid weight of him, of any part of him. To have something other than the intangible rasp of his voice when he spills his feelings to you over the walkie talkie.

***

The Sunday night before the last week of camp finds you, of course, on the walkie talkie. Unlike all the previous conversations, there’s a bittersweetness that you’re trying to swallow down. You’ll both be busy with preparations for the end of the summer festival where both sides of the camp meet—this year on the girls’ side of the lake—to celebrate a summer well spent. This means you won’t have the time or the energy to talk to one another before the big day. If it wasn’t for the fact that you still hadn’t met up properly, you wouldn’t be bemoaning the brief absence so much. But with the end of the camp session rapidly approaching, questions linger in the air. It’s not clear what happens to what you have with Taehyung once you’re not close enough to use walkie talkies to talk with one another every night. So you cherish every minute you get with the man, even if its just his voice.

“I wish we could just keep talking forever,” you whine half into your pillow, half into the balmy night air. You’re trying your best to combat the heat with your sheets kicked down to your ankles and your lightest sleep clothes on. The tone you use is one you might normally be a little ashamed of, but you’re feeling extra needy.

“I wish we could have worked on the same side of the lake,” Taehyung counters after a quick glance toward Minho’s bed. Still unmade and empty because the man in question went to go smoke on the dock. “This whole separating the camp for the kids’ sake is dumb sometimes.”

“Yeah. I wish I could’ve seen you teaching songs to the kids on the guitar.”

“I wish I could see your face while you listen to the songs I rec’d you.”

“And I wish I could see your paintings.” Taehyung turns back to see the canvas he’d filled yesterday with paint swatches, trying to remember the exact hue of your skin from the first meeting in which he knew you were you.

“I wish we could just see each other.”

“Me too.”

“And touch each other.”

Your mouth drops open wide. He’s been flirty in his own way, but never so outright.

“Oh my god, Taehyung, are you drunk?”

“I don’t drink,” he replies simply. Your cheeks feel too warm and you have to pat you face to give yourself a semblance of control.

It’s not that you haven’t entertained the idea of being intimate with Taehyung, but it was a bit difficult when you still couldn’t match a face to his name. Perhaps that was just a ‘you’-issue, but it frustrates you and, until now, kept you from getting very far with your fantasies. But with his voice in your ear that night, you think maybe you could get there. Already your skin is taking on a feverish heat, sweat starting to prick certain areas.

“What would you do if we could. H-how would you start?”

He palms himself deftly over his shorts and lets his eyes fall shut in indulgence. “Are you in bed?”

“Yes.” Your breath is bated. A hand trails down the top you’re wearing to lift the hem up, exposing the dewy skin of your torso. You pick at the elastic waistband playfully, eager to hear what Taehyung’s plans are for you.

“What are you wearing?”

It’s a benign question, but it still speeds up your heartbeat. His voice is somehow silken in its depth while tugging raggedly at something inside you.

“Um. I’m wearing a camisole and some shorts.”

He hums appreciatively. “Well, first, I’d take off your top. I’d pull the straps off and push the rest down slowly. I’d kiss your neck and your skin all over. Until I get to your breasts.”

Your fingers slide under your shorts to find the crotch of your panties. A growing wet spot greets the searching pads of your fingers. “And then what?”

“Easy, easy.” He smirks. “I’d take my time on you. I bet they’d feel so nice in my hands. Probably soft and warm. I’d put my mouth on them, lick them, suck on them. I’d pinch your nipples until they’re hard and you’re moaning.” Sure enough, a moan floats up through the speaker on Taehyung’s end. “Then I’d kiss your stomach and your hips and then I’d get your shorts off. Are you wearing panties?”

“I am, yeah.”

“Shame,” he pouts. “I’d take those off too. I’d kiss your thighs and then I’d kneel between your legs and I’d taste you. Get you all over my tongue.” His erection throbs with the image and he has to squeeze himself at the base to keep his cool. With his words momentarily halted, you jump in.

“All that sounds nice, but I think I’d like you under me more.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I want you on your back on the bed and I want you naked. And then I want to sit on your face. I wanna grind on your mouth for a bit and then I want to get you in my mouth too.” His breath hitches sharply in your ear. From the sound of it, he’s stroking himself slowly and leaning on and off the ‘talk’ button. “I want to feel you in my throat. I want to gag around you while I stroke you.”

Taehyung’s whines are high as he fights the urge to fuck into his hand quickly and chase the high he feels pulsing under his skin. “Are you—ngh—are you touching yourself?”

“Yes, but I wish it was you. I’ve got my fingers inside, but it’s not enough when I could have you do it. I want you to stretch me out. I wanna ride you after. I’m gonna ride you one day for real.”

“Can’t wait for that day,” he sighs, tossing his head back.

Taehyung spits into his hand to aid the glide. His hand moves quickly over his length, under the fabric of his bottoms. The slick sounds show up in the background noise of your cabin, egging you on. You bring your fingers to the apex of your lips and ghost them over your swollen clit. The first touch has so much anticipation behind it and has your back bowing off the mattress. Like a feedback loop, your moans set Taehyung’s hand in action and trigger his groans, which bring trickle after trickle of arousal down to wet your hand.

“I bet you’d feel so good. You sound so wet, god. You’d probably squeeze my dick so tight and good.”

“What would you do,” you gasp into the little radio, rolling a nipple under your satiny top. “Tell me what you’d do while I sit on your face.”

“I’d fuck you with my t-tongue. And I’d give some attention to your ass. It would probably look so good from where you’d be sitting. Bouncing on me while I fuck your mouth.”

“Fuck, Tae. I want you so bad.”

“I know,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Add another finger for me and play with your clit with your other hand. I want to hear you come. Be loud for me.”

“I’m so close. I’m—”

As soon as you heed his instructions and add another finger, you’re able to re-angle your hand and hit a sensitive spot along your walls. The sudden onslaught of pleasure makes your volume increase by double. Taehyung’s erection jumps at the sound of your orgasm.

“Did you come?”

Your heaving breaths through the speaker are answer enough. He soldiers through, trying to catch up to you. So you help him along.

“If I were with you, I’d hold your dick right on my tongue so I can taste all of it when you come. Or maybe you want to come inside me. To fill me up and get me all sticky?”

“Fuck,” he grunts one, twice and then his mouth drops open as he spurts over his hand. The thick white of his orgasm leaks through the gaps of his fingers to make a mess. His body tenses with a few of the aftershocks before he flops bonelessly into his pillow. “I can’t feel my toes.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for a while either.”

Taehyung pouts up at the top bunk. “If we were on the same side of the lake, we could have just done this in the same bed. Then at least we’d be immobile together.”

“How romantic.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with taking a lazy day off.”

“Maybe not normally. But with the festival coming up, I don’t think we really have that choice.”

“That’s true.”

“But,” the smile is audible in your voice, coy in its sing-song tone. “The next meeting is coming up soon. And we can maybe see each other there.”

“Yeah, we can.” Sleepiness makes his eyelids heavy, but he fights it as best we can. “I wanna see you so bad. Wanna hold you.”

“We can be really brave and hug in the parking lot outside the admin building.”

“I’d swim across the lake if it meant that was the fastest way to see you.”

“Aww. You’re such a sap when you come.”

“Only for you,” he mumbles. His cheek presses into his pillow as he loses his battle against sleep.

By the time Wednesday rolls around, you’ve been swamped with preparations for the festival. When you’re not busy avoiding paper cuts while designing decorations for the mess hall, you’re fighting off campers who want you to spoil the movie that the boys have chosen for the group as a whole to watch together. You go to bed at night without word from Taehyung, but you’re too tired and too familiar with the work he’s most likely doing to feel upset about it.

You’re so busy and your mind is so full that you don’t even realize that you should be looking for Taehyung when you go to sit down in the conference room. It’s only when you’re zoning out while the camp leader gets progress reports from the boys’ side that you realize you haven’t heard his voice in several days and you’re still not hearing it during the meeting. So you tap your fingers and wait for the meeting to adjourn. And as soon as it does, you make a beeline for Minho. Despite never having spoken with him directly, you’ve heard enough about him in and out of meetings to know what he looks like. Though, even if you hadn’t heard anything from your fellow counselors, you’d heard enough about him from Taehyung. If you listen carefully, you can almost hear similarities in the way that he and Taehyung talk. You suppose that’s what happens with siblings.

“Hi,” you greet him when there’s a lull in the conversation between him and some older counselor from the boys’ side.

“Hi, yourself.” Minho’s eyes widen as he registers your voice. It’s the only part of you he has direct experience with, but he has quite a lot of experience with it. He takes in your appearance with a grin, happy to finally meet the person who’s ensnared his baby brother’s affections.

“We’ve never met before, but my name is—”

“I know who you are. I hear Taehyung talk on the phone with you every night.”

“E-every night? Like even Sunday night?”

“Uhh,” his eyebrows raise at the sudden question. “No, actually. Not Sunday night. I was staying at someone else’s cabin. Why?”

“No reason. Listen, I just wanted to ask you if you knew where Tae was. I was planning on finally meeting with him face to face, but that...didn’t happen. And there’s not much time left.”

“I mean, there’s always after the summer. You both live in the city.”

You give him a non-committal noise that he doesn’t really like the sound of, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s not about to butt into his brother’s relationship just because he’s older. Even if it seems like you’re maybe not on the same page about what happens after camp ends.

“Well, he’s not pulling another fast one on you if that’s what you’re worried about. He told me not to tell you, but he got sick off bonfire weenies last night. So he’s probably still at home shitting his pants while he makes banners for the festival.”

“Thanks for that.” You blink away the image Minho’s words bring up and focus on the task at hand. “So I guess I probably won’t see him until the actual day of, then.”

“Probably. Since he’s covering the old art director’s tasks in addition to the musical stuff, he’s pretty swamped and this hot dog thing might set him back a bit. He definitely wants to see you, though.”

Minho tries his best again not to overstep and reveal too much. Not about the rampant diarrhea, but about the way Taehyung’s been scribbling frantically in notebooks for tasks that weren’t assigned to him for the fest. Nor does he tell you about the 3 a.m. guitar sessions. Or the tender way he sees Taehyung pick up the walkie talkie sometimes, holding it in his hand as thoughtfully as someone can when running on 5 hours of sleep.

                                                    (Festival Day)

“Come on, we’re gonna miss the concert!”

A camper pulls you by the wrist from the small station where face painting was being held to the center of the makeshift festival grounds where a stage has been set up.

People have been pulling you around since the wee hours of the morning. By now you’re used to just letting your body follow the person pulling you, but the slight twinge in your wrist is starting to worry you. You replace your wrist with your hand and the camper merely pulls you along harder. There’s already a large amount of campers and counselors from both sides of the lake surrounding the stage where some performances are about to take place. Somehow the 11-year-old holding your hand manages to weave you both through the bodies until you’re only a few feet from the platform.

After a juggling act done by two of your favorite campers, a lovely comedy routine where Moe roasted her ex-husband Cref, and a trio of high school yo-yo experts, the prep for the final performance begins. Apparently, Camp Lonely Heart had an anthem that all the campers learned in their music periods so they could all sing together during the final days of the summer. Since you were never present for the music sessions, you didn’t really know there was a song. Luckily for you, Jade gave you a sheet with the lyrics printed on them earlier that morning. You didn’t have any time to memorize them, but you got a good look and they seemed like pretty typical camp lyrics.

You spot Minho making his way to the front of the stage easily. He’s got a small glittery sign that says “That’s my little brother” and a few of the guys around him snicker when he waves it at the counselor and camper on stage. The words on the sign are slow to register with you, so it takes a moment for you to put two and two together to get Taehyung. But you do. And when you do, all you can hear is your own blood rushing in your ears and all you can see is him.

He’s seated with a guitar resting casually in his lap. His hair is long. Longer than you imagined it would be. It’s also lighter than you thought it would be based solely off Minho’s own dark chestnut locks. He’s handsome, though. With the honeyed skin and the large, expressive eyes behind vintage frames to offset the manly geometry of his other features. The young boy next to him on stage must say something nice or cute, because his whole face lights up. You marvel at the boxy shape of his mouth while he laughs.

In the background noise, you hear the camper, Jungkook, make a little speech about this summer and camaraderie and how long it took for him and Taehyung to prepare this original arrangement of the Camp Lonely Heart anthem you’re about to hear. But it all sort of washes in one ear and out the other. Instead you’re watching Taehyung bounce his foot with pre-show nerves and smile occasionally at what the other counselor says. Then he’s being handed the mic and he’s looking out into the audience. You lock eyes after a few beats, and he holds your gaze like he’s trying to see if you know who you’re looking at. Maybe it’s your awestruck expression. Or maybe it’s the stupid smile on your face when his voice comes through the mic and you’re hearing the voice you’ve grown to love pour through something other than shitty walkie talkie speakers. But either way, his back becomes a little straighter while he greets the crowd and tells them he hopes they like the song.

Everything after that is kind of a blur. You don’t sing along and instead watch Taehyung sing back up to Jungkook’s pretty tenor stylings. Minho was screaming when the song ended and threw some snipped sunflowers wrapped in cellophane onto the stage at Taehyung and Jungkook’s feet. In that chaotic moment of applause, you slip out the crowd after making sure Taehyung’s eyes are on you. The path you make is clear: a beeline straight behind the cabins on the trail that leads through the small foothills. With the festival going on and all the campers in one place, counselor supervision has to be tight. No campers allowed past these parts.

After giving him a few minutes to catch up, you can hear his footsteps are close behind you. The trek is short and you come up to step past the gates that open into the camp’s lavender field. It’s been a while since you last visited it, but the smell is just as fragrant and lovely as it was the first time. Your heart rate slows down slightly. Anticipation makes everything in you coil taut, full of sharp and tiny vibrations. You feel giddy. When his footsteps thud softly and finally behind you, you release your breath and turn around.

“It’s you.”

“Me,” he confirms with his palms open like an offering. An offering that you take immediately.

Your launch yourself into his open arms and he huffs as he takes the impact. The hug is tight like you’re worried he’ll turn into mist if you’re not careful. His arms are sturdy around you and he pulls you in even tighter so he can get closer. He runs the tip of his nose along your temple, revelling in the way the summer sun mingles with the scent of your soap and you. It’s a small detail but it’s exciting. Here you are, in the flesh, in all your glory. Your arms and bare legs are covered in small splatters of dried paint from the last minute changes you had to make to some of the decorations this morning. And your counselor’s t-shirt has a few rips and frays in the seams from all the wear and tear it got over the summer. The flyaways in your hair and the way you sway as you hold him are all catalogued. Even in this more life-worn state, he can’t stop looking at you.

You pull back after a long while with your heart still beating in your throat. There were so many things you planned on doing when you first met Taehyung for the first time, but now you’re overwhelmed. Perhaps it’s because, in the back of your mind, you’re worried about time. It feels very fairytale-like, the way you only managed to come face to face on a special occasion. Like a good dream that will come to an end at the beep of an alarm or a fantasy that collapses into tatters at the stroke of midnight. You try to remind yourself that you’re not in a fairytale. This is real life and you have more than midnight because you have the internet and public transportation. But is that enough? You shake the thoughts out of your head, trying to focus on the here and now because it may be all you have.

“I liked your song,” you finally say. Both his hands come up to cup your face.

“Thanks. I practiced a lot for you.”

“It paid off.”

He takes a deep breath and accepts your compliment robotically before letting his eyes flit back down to your upturned mouth. “Can I kiss you,” he sighs.

“Please.”

The kiss doesn’t actually start for quite a few moments. As soon as he has your permission, then he decides to take his time. Your eyes are nearly closed and he admires the pretty shadow your eyelashes cast on your cheeks. Impatience scratches at your nerves, but you try to go with the flow. He tilts your head in his hands like he’s calculating the best angle to kiss you from, knowing he’s driving you crazy from the little frustrated huffs you let out. Chuckling, he ghosts his lips over yours once before fully pressing forward.

As soon as your lips move together for the first time, you both let out twin sighs. Instantly, like a choreographed dance, arms and hands move in tandem to bring each other closer. You experiment with the long hair that flirts with the back of his neck before following its path and dipping your fingers beneath the collar of his shirt. He responds with large hands spreading over the small of your back, fingertips digging in before lifting and then digging in again like a game of  practicing restraint.

You press your chest to his in an effort to get closer to him and unwittingly tease him with the promise of more unexplored softness under your clothes. He opens your mouth up with his own and nudges a subtle rhythm against your tongue. You moan and he mirrors the sound earnestly.

“I don’t think we can make it to the cabins,” he mumbles against your mouth.

“That’s fine,” you lay both hands on his chest and enjoy the firmness you find before pushing him back towards the tall rows of lavender. “I don’t need a bed if you don’t.”

“You’re something else.” He pulls back then with a wet sound. His lips are slightly puffy and shiny from kissing you and you grapple with the urge to bite them. You lose the battle and he shivers at the feel of you nipping at him. “Fuck.”

Once he and you have stumbled far enough back amongst the fragrant bushes and you find a soft enough patch of flattened lavender, you lower yourself to your hands and knees. He scrambles to sit beside you before immediately pulling you back in. You straddle his waist and rest some of your weight on his thighs while you peel off your shirt and bra. His hands smooth over the curve of your side once the skin is exposed, noting the way you arch into his touch. With an inquiring look, your hands move to the fly of his cutoffs. He lays back and then lifts his hips, impressively with you still seated on his lap, to pull his bottoms down and off. You do the same with yours and return to your perch as fast as possible.

Taehyung’s fingers find the soaked center of your panties and you rock your hips against the heel of his palm when he wriggles a finger in experimentally. He lets out a low appreciative whistle at how wet you are. You get wetter still when he grinds up into your clit to get you to lose some of the control you’ve garnered since leading him to the field. The feeling forces you to lean your hands on his abdomen, fingers fisting in his shirt.

“I want you inside me,” your moan shudders with the rhythm of the little circles you gyrate onto his long fingers. “I wanna ride you like I promised.”

“Are you sure you’re ready? We have time until we need to go back for clean up.”

“I know, but I want you to fuck me a couple of times before that happens.”

“I don’t have a condom, though.”

“Are you clean?”

“Yeah...You?”

“Yes,” your mouth drops open when he scrubs at a particularly sensitive spot on your slick walls. “And I’m on the pill. If you want, we could...”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I want it,” you assure him.

He takes off his shirt while you massage your breasts and take in more of his body now that it’s on display. The long hair framing his face falls prettily in his eyes after the shirt displaced it. Once it’s off, he pulls your panties to the side to admire the crystalline sheen that coats your lower lips. You shoo his fingers out of the way and pull the fabric to a more ideal angle before lowering yourself onto his length. The skin of his erection is hot to the touch and parts your lips easily. Your hips move in stuttering pushes forward to bump your clit against the swollen head.

“Oh, fuck,” his hands fly up to comb through his bangs. “God, this—you’re so sexy.”

“You are too. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

With that, you raise up just enough to grip his length and line him up with your entrance. Instantly you realize his girth is a bit of a challenge, so you’re not as quick as you’d like when you take him in. But the slick aids things and your pelvises are snuggly slotted together after a few moments and some deep breaths. Taehyung’s hand flies to the slight bulge in your lower belly, enjoying the way he seems to fill you already.

You rest your hands on his ribcage again and get your bearings. With an efficient readjustment of your weight so you can freely work your thighs, you begin bouncing on him with no pretenses. His answering moan is louder than he clearly intended because as soon as it’s out, he bites down on his tongue. It’s clear he doesn’t want to make it obvious where you are and what you’re doing, but he’s having trouble containing himself. There’s sweat already starting to prickle under the surface of his skin and his hands feel restless just minutes into your ministrations.

Taehyung settles for muttering quiet curses and gripping your rapidly circling hips with bruising force. He can barely keep up with the pace you’ve set, but he does manage. He thrusts up to meet your every downstroke, though it’s not without an obscene slapping sound. The fact that he’s so visibly affected by your movements gets you wetter every second until he almost slips out a few times. You adjust your rhythm so that’s not a problem, but your thighs are burning with the effort. Taehyung sees through hooded eyes that you’re losing steam and seizes his chance.

You’ve opted for sitting and grinding with him inside you when he starts to shift. His arms come to envelope you and keep you steady as he sits up. Then you’re suddenly on your back. You want to protest about the dirt, but the ground looked clean and dry and doesn’t make your back itch, so you let it happen. Taehyung repositions himself among your splayed legs, hitching one up to wrap around his hip. He grabs the ankle of your other leg and lifts it slowly, testing your flexibility and giving you time to tell him where your limit is. When your ankle is hovering level with his shoulder, you give him a cheeky smirk at his wide eyed expression. He punishes your silent brag by sucking a rough hickey into the skin just above your ankle before resting it on his shoulder. The very fact that he’s pretzled you like this turns him on and gives him a slight energy boost. He figures you must have stolen some of his life force with the way you rode him earlier.

“Little succubus,” he spits through gritted teeth as he begins pistoning his hips against yours.

You let out a shameless laugh that quickly devolves into a low moan with the way the new angle feels. He’s not going to last much longer if you continue to squeeze around him like you’re doing, but he’s fairly certain you’ll finish first. Certain because his hand moves down between your bodies to tweak at one of your nipples. He noticed earlier how your eyes fogged over while you played with yourself in the same way. Leaning over, he continues to thrust into you while pulling the nipple between his teeth. He rakes over it lightly and your leg tenses before falling back down with a thud. You don’t seem to notice and instead your abdomen spasms with the waves of pleasure that begin lapping at you without ebbing back. The feeling merely builds until it explodes the moment he minutely clenches his jaw and bites. It’s a small amount of pain, but it takes you by surprise and pushes you over the edge.

With your walls milking him, he follows your high soon with his own. His breaths come out in deep huffs in your ear, heavy with bass. You test your limbs and the shifting makes you aware of the come he filled you with. When he pulls out, the sensation grows and you’re moaning weakly as it leaks out. He takes his lower lip in between his teeth as he watches the evidence his orgasm drip from your puffy center. He kind of wants to push it back in with his tongue or his fingers just to watch it drip out again, but he knows you might still be sensitive. So he settles for stroking your hip bone lovingly.

Grabby hands creep into his peripheral vision. It’s you silently asking for him to come lie with you, and he does. He presses sweet kisses against your lips until you sling a leg over his hip and add tongue. His dick twitches with the promise of second round, rubbing against the soft skin of your inner thigh. Normally, he’d need more time between orgasms. But you’re kissing his neck and for some reason the smell of your sweat combined with lavender is a miraculous pairing and has the blood flowing back south. A quick glance at his wrist watch tells him that there’s still a good 45 minutes and he flashes the little screen to you. Your answering grin is the rest of the motivation he needs.

The festival day ended two days ago. Following your rendezvous, you both smoothed out your clothes and shook the grass out of them before sneaking back into the campgrounds smelling suspiciously of lavender and ‘something else’ according to Moe. You managed to somehow avoid her keen nose just like Taehyung avoided his older brother’s wiggly eyebrows.

Clean up was an absolute bitch that night, so you both went to bed without hitting each other up. And the following day was for making sure all the campers were packed up and shipped off to town or picked up by their guardians. That was somehow more exhausting even though there wasn’t any cleaning or sweaty sex involved. It was probably the giant bonfire you had and the 40s you threw back that night with your co-counselors. It was probably the most fun you had with them in a while. You were up into the wee hours recounting all the chaos from the last week and the shenanigans that resulted from having the counselors from the other side of the lake involved. No one mentions you slipping away for over an hour, and for that you’re thankful.

But the headache you wake up with the next day has you silently cursing the whole camp. You don’t need to spend a long time packing, and you’re out of your cabin in record time. Hitching a ride with one of the other early risers, you find yourself at the admin building with plenty of time to kill until you have to walk to the nearest bus stop. There’s donuts and bagels and a basic fruit plate in the conference room and you stealthily sneak some food out while the camp leader interrogates other counselors about how they felt the summer went. You even resort to filling out your evaluation form in the hallway to avoid the camp leader’s hawk-like gaze. You’re still seated on the floor, counting the dots in the pattern on the linoleum tiles, when Taehyung’s characteristic sneakers appear in front of you.

“You going home?”

It’s an awkward question, but it technically shouldn’t be. The last moments in the lavender field were spent with you skirting around his questions about where in the city you lived and what your plans for the fall were. It seemed pointless to tell him all that and act as if you were guaranteed to be able to pick things up where they left off once camp closed for the summer. With your back turned that day, you missed the way Taehyung looked at you after struggling with the feeling of not knowing you. Despite the fact that he felt deep in his soul not more than 3 hours ago that he knew you.

Couple this with the fact that you did have down time after the festival ended, but you said you were busy when you weren’t and you end up where you are now. Suddenly uncomfortable in front of the guy you’d been opening yourself up to for months because you never really got to breach the subject of what would happen when the summer ended. Now you’re realizing these are probably your last moments with what you had with him at Camp Lonely Heart.

“My bus is coming at 2,” you say eventually. He tries one last time.

“That’s hours from now. I can...I could drive you instead. I’m going into the city anyway.”

Yes, your brain wants you to say. Take me home, and then come in and stay with me. You want to utter the words, but your tongue grows heavy and clumsy. So instead you say something stupid.

“The ticket’s non-refundable.”

“Oh.” His head lowers to stare at his own shoes. “Yeah, that’s...I get that. Money, right?”

“Yeah.” You stare down at your shoes. You fight to find a redeemable moment, something lighter to end the summer on. “Hey, uh, look what I brought when I cleaned out my cabin.”

Taehyung stares down at your seated form while you fish through your little backpack for something. He’s not sure why the moment he was dreading before officially meeting you is happening now. The rejection he was hoping to avoid by remaining a nameless, faceless voice is now slowly rearing its ugly head.

“Look!” Your voice is a bit too enthusiastic to come off as 100% genuine, but the sight of the walkie talkie that started it all does make Taehyung smile despite himself.

When he pulls out a matching device from the side pocket of his messenger bag, the uncomfortable atmosphere lifts a little. Minho shows up then, keys jingling in his pocket. He calls for Taehyung and looks at you curiously.

“Are you coming with?” Before you can explain, Taehyung answers for you.

“She can’t. She’s gotta catch the bus.”

“The bus that’s going into the city? Where we’re also headed,” Minho asks with an incredulous smile that’s got none of the usual sweetness in it.

He looks at you for a better answer, one that makes more sense, but you don’t volunteer one when suddenly put on the spot. The slump in Taehyung’s shoulders betray the weak smile on his face. To Minho, the whole situation positively reeks of a similar situation his baby brother got into when he was younger and much less careful with his heart. He’s not 100% surprised at you, though. He saw this coming in the last few days when there were no calls from you and Taehyung’s eyes lost their summer shine. Minho pins you with a look of disappointment that you feel deep in your bones before he gives you a second chance.

“Tae, can you go start up the car?”

There must be something in Minho’s voice that you miss because Taehyung surprises you by only hesitating for a second before taking the keys and turning on his heel. You can feel Minho’s eyes on your face the entire time you watch Taehyung leave, but you can’t bear to face him until he’s gone.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I just panicked when he asked if I was coming, so I said no.” He sighs in what you think is understanding, eyes closing momentarily before opening again. This time, his face is slightly more patient. He thinks he knows what’s going on.

“Do you want to ride home with us? With him?” There’s something else in the question, and you see it and grab at it, even though the implications scare you.

“I think so. I want to spend more time with him before I have to go for good. We didn’t really...talk about how this would end.”

“Does it have to end?”

“I mean, you know what they say about summer flings. Plus, this all happened in a really weird environment. Who knows if all of this was only possible because we just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“Mm, yeah. It sounds like you guys were lucky in that regard,” he crosses his arms. “But you can take luck and build on it with actual effort and make something solid.”

You open your mouth to protest, but you can’t think of anything to actually say because he’s right. So you pick up your backpack and zip it up and gesture for him to lead the way to the car. A tiny bit of prideful approval bleeds onto his otherwise grave expression. On the way to the parking lot, your mind swirls with thoughts about the ways that this thing could fall apart. About how a summer haze made everything possible or how the distance that can’t be covered by walkie talkies will be the end of you and Taehyung. You look up to catch Taehyung’s profile as he waits for Minho in the driver’s seat. You also catch the way his face goes from a flat mask of indifference to surprise to badly concealed joy at the sight of you trudging behind his older brother. He rolls down the window while Minho makes a beeline for the back seat.

“You’re coming?”

“If that’s okay.” And you do wonder. Is this okay? Can we really do this? Can we make it?

“Y-yeah, of course,” seems to be Taehyung’s answer to all your questions, even the ones unspoken.

While you make your way to the passenger’s side, Taehyung whips his head around to stare at his brother.

“What did you say to her?”

“I’m not telling you, but just know that you may owe me for life after this.”

“Alright,” Taehyung concedes as you get in and strap in for the ride.

Thanks for reading through these collab pieces with me. Plz also go check out the pieces @polaritae wrote on the masterlist link above!!

[baldwin-montclair]

@ateliefloresdaprimavera The reader is a good friend of Diana, and a powerful witch on her own. She lived with her aunt and cousins since she was little, due to having lost her parents very young They belittled her apperance and abilities since that day. When she grows up and goes to live on her own, she flourishs and becomes a very powerful witch, starts to gain fame (she takes her powers from nature and basically lives an isolated life in the woods). Even then, she always thought she wasn’t good enough. But, she always helps, regardless the species (that's how she knows Sophie and Nate). One day, Diana and Matthew ask for her help and she goes with them to France, and then she meets...SUPER RICH BROODY PRINCE! She stand mostly in her corner, doing her job in the shadows (Marthe likes her very much), and Baldwin comes along with ‘Who's that gorgeous creature?’

———

Daniela looked between her friends, one witch, one vampire, as they sat across from her in the small living room of her forest cabin.

A toddler was fast asleep in his father’s arms.

“France?” She asked them both with unease.

She had rarely left the small Madison town where she escaped from the cruelty of her aunt and cousins.

“We need your help.” Diana blurted out.

“With what?” She shook her head in confusion, genuinely confused as to what a weaver might need from her, given her meagre ability to draw energy from, and give energy to, trees and plants.

“Stevie’s sprouting little trees all over Les Revenants, this never happened with the twins and we’re worr-“ Matthew stopped, shaking his head, “we’re concerned it’s going to bring the house down around us. It might have been my human trade but even I couldn’t salvage that much damage.”

“You’re the only witch I know with this power Dani, will you come?” Diana asked.

Almost on cue, Stephen awoke, fussy and still tired.

“Hi there little guy!” Daniela smiled at him.

“Apple.” He demanded

“I don’t have any but I do have some very nice oranges?” She offered the child instead.

“No, apple, me do it!” He answered and lifted a chubby little hand, causing the entire house to shake.

“Merde!” Matthew exclaimed.

Daniela noticed small tendrils of leaf stems start to poke through her floorboards.

“Is he making an apple tree?”

“I think so,” Diana looked at the child, “stop it Stevie.”

“No, it’s fine, there’s a protection spell on the house and I can put the tree back when he’s done, let me see what he does.” Daniela assured her.

“Christ!” Matthew muttered to himself as a tree the size of his young son stopped growing as it produced just one large, juicy apple.

“Okay, you definitely need my help!” Daniela stated as she plucked the apple from the tree and handed it to Diana before commanding the tree back to the earth with a swish of her hand.

Stephen clapped his little hands, even at that young age, he recognised the importance of not being the odd one out, someone could do what he could.

“We have a room all made up for you.” Matthew promised, clear relief on his face.

“Yes,” Diana agreed, “the kids will be so excited to see you, and, you’ll be there for the party.”

“Party?”

“Two weeks time, Phoebe’s 5th year as a vampire and her and Marcus’ anniversary.” Diana reminded.

“I remember, you told me there was going to be a party but you were not going to put me on the spot by asking me to come but if I showed up then great.” Daniela smiled.

“We really appreciate your overcoming discomfort to help us.” Matthew placed a friendly hand on her arm.

“I’d do anything for you both, you know that. When do you need me there?”

“You’re coming back with us.”

“I need to book a flight Diana.”

“You don’t,” Matthew answered, suddenly coy, “we came here on my private plane, we have a take off time in a few hours.”

“I should go pack!”

“By the gods Diana,” Baldwin called out as he found her in the reception room at Les Revenants, “are there any other possible abilities your children are likely to aquire?”

“Baldwin, always a pleasure!” She answered with good-natured sarcasm.

His eyes narrowed at her statement, he never did have an ear for sarcasm yet he knew her statement to be patently untrue.

Any visit of his that did not result in a brawl with Matthew could be considered downright congenial.

“Where’s my botanist nephew?”

“Outside, where he can make as many little trees as he likes.”

“With Matthew?”

“No, he’s doing repairs whilst he can, my friend Daniela is with him.”

“I don’t know that name,” he answered with suspicion, “is she a witch?”

“She is and why would you know her?”

“I like to know who’s around my niece and nephews. I have no way of telling that she’s suitable.”

“I do! She’s my friend and they are my children! So, if you’ve come to give orders you can go f-“

He held his hands up in a gesture of truce.

“I came to help, if not with Stephen then with the party arrangements.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.” Matthew stated as he breezed past his step-brother.

“Five years as a vampire is nothing,” he rolled his eyes in derision, “but it would be unseemly to decline an invite to a family gathering.”

“I’m sure Phoebe and Marcus will be thrilled.” Diana smiled.

“I trust,” Baldwin gave Diana a pointed stare at her dig, “that we will not be conducting this gathering in the midst of a rainforest?”

“Daniela has it under control.” Diana assured as she looked out the window to see a large tree appear and disappear.

The entire De Clermont family had descended on the home, as well as several friends and Knights of Lazarus members.

Diana approached her friend, with little Stephen attached to his beloved mentor by his hand in hers.

“Serious Daniela, take the night off, enjoy yourself.”

“I am enjoying myself,” she answered, slightly offended, “we’re having a great time, right Stevie?”

“Look Mama!” He pointed to a group of potted plants on a table.

“Very well done baby!” Diana kissed his cheek.

“He’s learning where plants go. Where do trees go?”

The child thought for a moment before breaking into a smile and throwing his hands in the air.

“Outside!”

“That’s right, high five!” Daniela grinned widely as the child slapped his small hand against hers.

Their double act was doomed to come to a close when the child yawned.

“He needs a nap,” Daniela gave him a kiss on the forehead.

“No, stay Dani!” Stephen demanded.

“I’ll still be here when you wake up, and when you do I have more to teach you.”

“Promise?” He pouted.

“I promise!” She hugged him before Diana took him away.

Turning, she noticed the wilted flowers, damaged by Stephen’s temporary bad mood.

Taking a deep breath, she lightly blew on the plants as they started to repair.

Matthew noted his brother staring at something on the opposite side of the room as everyone was chatting and mingling.

“What are you looking a-“ Matthew followed Baldwin’s line of sight at his son’s mentor, chatting with an animated and excited Marthe.

“Not happening!” Matthew hissed.

“That’s the witch who’s teaching Stephen?” Baldwin asked, oblivious to Matthew’s threat.

“Her name is Daniela. Not only is she a very good friend, she has been instrumental in stopping this building from becoming a treehouse, we need her. Find your sport elsewhere Baldwin, I mean it!”

“She’s captivating.”

Baldwin had not taken his eyes off her during the entire conversation.

“Are you listening to me?” Matthew challenged.

“I do try my best not to Matthew, but am not always successful.”

“She’s been through enough and if you become something else she needs to get over, Diana might actually kill you!”

“What could I possibly do to warrant such violence?”
Marthe caught Baldwin staring and only then did he look away, like a child caught about to steal a cookie.

“When it comes to women, you have a short attention span.” Matthew jibbed.

“As did you, once. People change.”

“I’m disinclined to believe she would be able to prevent you seeking conquest elsewhere.”

Baldwin didn’t respond, surprising Matthew that he would let such a barb go unquestioned.

“What did you mean, when you said she’s been through enough?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Humour me, Matthew.”

Matthew could be confident that Baldwin was getting nowhere near the witch now that she was being guarded by such a formidable vampire as Marthe. Even Baldwin would never challenge her.

But, even Marthe couldn’t be everywhere.

“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise to stay away from her.”

Baldwin considered for a moment, his curiosity piqued.

“As you wish, I will not approach her.”

Matthew glanced up at his friend, laughing with Marthe and Francoise.

“Her aunt and cousins tried to spellbind her.”

“Why?”

“Jealousy, they didn’t have her particular ability. Luckily they were not very powerful witches and Diana was able to lift the spell but Daniela was powerless, and frightened and alone until that happened. She does not need another reason not to trust people.”

“Understood.” Baldwin agreed to his part of the terms.

“I don’t care how how much it will cost to buy over the debt, if the bank will not foreclose on that farm then buy the fucking bank!” Baldwin ordered over the phone before receiving the confirmation and hanging up the phone.

After Baldwin left the party to stand outside, it didn’t take much research to track down the property of the witches Matthew had spoken about, even less time to find out about their crippling debt.

Still, he didn’t know why Matthew’s story made him so angry, he didn’t know the witch and hadn’t spoken to her.

“Hi,” a sweet lilting voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned to see the witch in question, “you are Uncle Baldwin, I’m guessing?”

“I am,” he answered, technically not breaking his promise as she had approached him, “and you must be Daniela, Stephen’s teacher.”

“That’s me.” She smiled.

“You do not enjoy parties?”

“No, yes, I mean,” she stops, laughing to herself, “everyone is lovely I just, it’s very crowded, it makes me uncomfortable.”

Baldwin nodded in understanding.

“And you,” she asked, “why are you not inside?”

“Important business,” he answered truthfully, “something I had to deal with.”

“No offence but, why would buying a farm be an urgent thing to do at this time of night?”

“You were listening?” He challenged.

“I was walking and overheard, you don’t threaten quietly.” She answered, unfazed by his direct stare.

“I apologise if my tone frightened you.”

“Thanks for your concern,” she stepped forward, “but you don’t scare me.”

Matthew may have overstated her timid nature.

“I should, according to the opinion of some.”

“Ah,” she smiled, “Matthew was telling you to stay away, when I was talking to Marthe. She told me to stay away from you, for my own good.”

“Perhaps you should heed their advice,” he sighed in annoyance at their sinister opinion of his motives, “I won’t keep you from safety any longer.”

He stepped aside to allow her to pass and rejoin the party.

“I don’t want to go back inside.” She shook her head.

“Would you,” he stopped for a moment, considering the degree of vulnerability he may be showing with his request, “would you mind showing me how you create living things as you do.”

“I don’t create life,” she corrected, studying the vampire and his honest curiosity, “but I can show you how I shape it, if you like?”

“I would like that.”

[sick-raven]

Ghosts of the past - Chapter 1

Batman fanfiction

Characters: Jonathan Crane, OC - Miranda Bradbury, Bruce Wayne, John Constantine

About: Miranda Bradbury moved to Gotham for a few reasons - to enjoy her career as an assassin, and to face her fears. Who else should help her with hallucinations that follow her than the fear expert Jonathan Crane? However, the doctor-patient relationship is very unstable one as both of them have to fight with their past, their present, and Batman.

Author note: I was trying to figure out some fancy way to describe the story. It's just a porn with a plot about two sick freaks. Enjoy.

Fair warnings: Suicide attempt, rape mentions, nsfw, violence, light bdsm

Status: Finished, will post next chapters when in mood.

Can also read at AO3.

Chapter 1

It was a dark evening in Gotham. Now, every evening was dark, but in Gotham with its never-ending mist of smog, it was especially dull and uncomfortable. Street lights wouldn’t break the darkness, windows only shined TV light out and painted pictures of entertained families, or dining families, or, as most common in Gotham, arguing families.

Gotham was also loud and Terry Borrows hated that fact. They’ve never got used to constant car noises – revving of engines and horn honking that all coming back twofold in echoes bouncing from walls of thin streets. Annoying, headache causing. Terry would rather listen to their boss shouting all day.

They were hyper focused on the noise. On their check-up doctor said it’s nothing weird and then asked for payment in amount of Terry’s two-month salaries. Thief.

That’s when they heard it. Soft, almost silent ding. As if you try to get attention at the wedding table and you hit the crystal glass with a spoon. Once. Carefully. It sounded almost magical in this grey place.

Ding.

Terry stopped. At the end of the narrow street they saw a shadow. It was a person kneeling next to something on the ground. Terry didn’t see any details, but dread climbed on their back. This is Gotham. Terry should run. It doesn’t matter what were they witnessing, the logical thing is to…

Ding.

The person looked his way. Every little move was followed by that soft jingle.

And then Terry realized they can’t move anymore. The jingle dinged louder. And louder. The sound vibrated through the streets catching them right by the soul. Terry realized they can’t breathe. Their heart was racing like crazy and their head hurt from wave of sound around them.

The person… a woman… walked straight to Terry, bringing the sound with her. In the dark Terry recognized a scarf on her face and… oh god… bloody knife in her hand.

Run! They tried to move their legs. Nothing.

The sound. The fear. The knife.

Finally, Terry’s body gave in and they fainted. They didn’t see the woman touching their neck for pulse. Nor did they hear the sound stop as the woman left without hurting them.

In the street, there lay another body.

***

Miranda Bradbury really liked Gotham. She felt like a character in gothic romance. Darkness, never-ending mist and bad weather, creepy architecture and constant danger. She enjoyed Gotham since she’s moved here two weeks prior. This city was crazy. Mental even! During the time period she tried to adapt to her new environment, she’s already seen the clown terrorizing city, the Riddler enslaving a whole block and some maniac with knives kidnapping people trying to lure in the Bat.

Oh, yeah. Batman. Before she didn’t understand. How can the police just let mask vigilante on loose? She understood after two days. This city…

This city also ruined her business right away. She moved here, opened a toyshop and that was it. The empty place flourished under her care, filled with toys, decorations and joy. The shop was in pretty good part of town, and yet – no customers. Too late she found out this used to be a toyshop of some crazy guy – calling himself the Toymaker – who tried to kill the city with explosive teddy-bears and sentient Barbie dolls.

Yes. This city was mental.

And she loved it. She always tried to blend in, be the grey mouse in her warm turtleneck and messy brown hair. After witnessing crazy punk-rock fashion of this city she realized she stood up more like this. At least she can pass for naïve outsider. That’s always a plus in her line of work.

The fourth day and finally two guys entered her shop. They looked around with deep uninterest in their eyes. Walked through isles touching stuffed toy here and there or picking up a toy car and putting it back two seconds later. Miranda waited patiently at the counter, small smile on her lips.

They finally stopped in front of her. She suspected they are twins as their expression were the same – dull and bored. They were dressed like gangsters from twenties. Gotham was weirdly stuck in time.

“G’morning, lady,” said one of them despite it being deep afternoon. “We’ve come to talk.”

“How much?” Miranda asked.

“Excuse me?”

“How much?” she repeated not losing her patience. She adored the confused looks. “This isn’t my first rodeo, gentlemen. How much is the protection fee?”

“Straight lass, huh?”

“Partially,” Miranda joked. “I hate beating around the bush.”

“Don loves people like you. Right to bus’ ya know? It’s ten percent if you don’t want’cha place to burn.”

Miranda overlooked the empty store. Ten percent of nothing is… probably not suitable for Don Falcone, one of the mafia leaders of the city. Before setting the shop, Miranda made her research on the city’s bad guys. Always ready. Don Falcone won’t care, he will just want his cash. She started to think she underestimated the marketing. Be better PR, Miranda, it’s not that hard.

“Tell me, friends,” she started with a nice voice, “how does Don Falcone feel about illegal businesses?”

***

Miranda moved to Gotham for various reasons. One of them was the fact she was constantly on the move. She’s never spent anywhere more than two years. The last city she was in was Star City and that didn’t go well for her with all the supers around.

The second reason was that she’s always heard about Gotham as this sick place. The city corrupted by illness eating itself out like a wounded animal. That intrigued her and she felt as if this is the proper place to hide and never be found. And if she is, it will be probably in the dumpster behind some chemical plant. She could live with that future in mind.

The third reason… the main reason she wasn’t afraid to admit, she just didn’t want to deal with it… was him.  Professor Jonathan Crane. Miranda took years of stupid, non-working, useless therapy to end up here. Her… could she even call them fears?... were crippling. And she needed the best. Jonathan Crane was the best. The fear specialist with shady background. But that’s Gotham for you. You might do inhumane experiments on your students and don’t get your licence revoked.

Miranda should probably be afraid of someone like that. Ridiculous idea. He was still running decent psychiatric office and all reviews threw him five stars. She will be careful. She just really needed help.

This was the part she hated. Explaining. She sat in front of the professor. He was fairly young for the title. Miranda’s looked through his files too, though he has been careful keeping most of the information hidden. Star student, at least he used to be. Those climb the leader fast. He wasn’t even forty yet, his ginger hair hid possible grey hair very well. He was watching her with his intense blue eyes and almost never blinked. He waited for her to get everything out. Miranda hated those stories. Repeating them again always made her feel crazy. She probably was.

“It’s complicated. I will try to make it short.” Now, Miranda, where is your hate for beating around the bush, huh? Just tell the nice doctor you are a fucking madwoman.

The professor was silent. Waiting. Even sitting he was very tall, and she noticed his fingers being thin and bony, just like his whole appearance.

“I have a problem. I’ve seen tons of shrinks about it already. Most of them gave up on me or drugged me to no avail. The thing is I have this weird… I don’t know… Phobia. Causing me panic attacks, crippling me.”

“That is not uncommon for deep fears,” said the professor. Miranda wondered how can shrinks be so calm. If someone told her they are crazy, she would probably joke about it right away.

“Yes, I know. I was told that hundred times already. There’s a catch.”

“Do tell.”

Miranda shuffled in her chair. No matter how many times she has talked about this it still made her uncomfortable and she felt like an idiot. But she had to fight this. Or she might…

“It’s ghosts. I panic around ghosts.”

The professor opened his mouth to say something, but Miranda quickly stopped him.

“No, I don’t believe in ghosts. That’s nonsense. I just call these things ghosts. It’s like… hallucination I keep having. They appear and it’s like someone caught my heart and pulled it out of my chest. I feel dead. I cannot move, I cannot act, think, anything. But according to all the doctors, I am sane.”

“When do these ghosts appear?” Professor didn’t even flinch. Nor blinked. He heard crazy talk daily why should she be any more interesting?

“They first appeared a little over a decade back. This is when the first attack happened. Then I got a charm, see?” She touched her necklace. Simple round silver ball that jingled softly when moved. “It keeps them away. When I take this off, I see them. I get attacked right away.”

“May I see?”

She held the pendant firmly. “Sorry, I don’t take it off on the first date.”

Her joke created tiny smile on his face. “Understandable.”

He asked more questions and she tried to answer as truthfully as her crime record allowed. By the end of the session she felt like dried out sponge.

“Don’t be afraid, miss Bradbury. We will figure this out,” professor said when she was leaving.

“Funny you say that. I can’t really feel the fear,” she smiled and that ended their first meeting.

***

Terry Borrows way lying in the hospital bed. They hit their head during the horrid night which caused a mild concussion. The doctors were also worried about their heart because it showed signs of arrythmia.  It disappeared a day after the incident, but everyone was head over heels with this situation.

“They keep me here because they want to blame it on me,” wrote Terry to their friend. “Because they have nobody else for the murder.” Terry believed that. This wouldn’t be the first time Gotham has fucked them over. At least they survived. Witnessing murder first hand was like being sentenced to death.

So, they were bored on the hospital bed, half asleep, half awake, back hurting from cheap bedding. Eyes closing and opening again just to see how far the sun has moved or whether the food was ready.

Closing. Opening. The sun was setting.

Closing. Opening. Darkness.

Closing. Opening. Shadow.

Terry’s heart nearly stopped. They shouted by surprise. They are definitely going to die now!

“Terry Borrows,” said the shadow with a deep voice. “I have few questions for you.”

Terry was struck by fear. The rational part of their brain wanted to scream. They didn’t. They watched a man dressed as giant bat and their voice trembled.

“Y-yes?”

“What did you see at the crime scene?”

“I already told the police everything.” There was panic in their voice.

“Tell me.”

“There was a woman, she killed someone. She had some sort of mask. She… ah!”

The door opened. The nurse stepped between the doorframe, looked at Batman and then strategically left closing the door behind her. Terry swallowed a curse.

“Continue,” demanded Batman.

“The sound. It was the sound that made me faint.”

“What else can you remember?”

“The jingle. She was jingling like some fucking Christmas tree.”

“What about her movement?”

“What about it?” asked Terry. Batman just waited to let them figure out what he means. “I don’t know. I saw her just for a few seconds. She was hidden in the shadows.”

“Thank you, Terry.”

“You are welcome?” answered Terry unsurely. Then the door opened again, and doctor stormed in ready to shun the uninvited guest.

But he was already gone.

Chapter 2