#and last week i thought i might potentially have an out but it went NOWHERE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

Text

Twisted 27 - When The War Comes [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, guns, knives, sharp objects, stabbing, hallucinations.

Word Count: 7500

Summary: Who will you become?

You had to control your anger. You had to control the fire in your veins until you were sure that your niece was safe, that your family was safe, then—

Then you would handle this situation. Until then, it had to wait.

All the training your father had given you was basically screaming at you to attack the threat, but you managed to keep yourself from doing so while you followed him through the woods, paying close attention to your surroundings.

The cabin. This was the way to your father’s cabin in the woods.

You had counted ten armed men on the way here but you had to assume there were more scattered along the woods. You stepped over a tree root before you looked up at the night sky and quickly found the stars that would help you. Thankfully it was a clear night, and your father had taught you long before how to read the sky for direction, in case you needed to-

Hunt.

A shudder went down your spine but you quickly shook your head, you had no time for that fear lurking in your head.

Fear could wait until you made sure you and everyone back home survived.

Considering how your family had no boundaries when it came to you, you were one hundred percent sure that by the time tonight was over, they would arrive at your apartment to see where you were.

“So what is your game here?” you moved your wrists that he had bound the moment you two had reached the end of the road and got off the car to walk into the woods, “You take me there and what? You’ll kill me?”

He looked over his shoulder, “How can you ask me that?” he said and you raised your brows.

“How can I not ask you that?”

At least you could leave a note. Lincoln was just that stupid.

“They’ll come looking for me,” you told him as he rolled his eyes, still pointing the gun at you.

“Who, your boyfriend?”

“He works in the FBI, you fu—“ you had to remember to stop yourself. He had access to Lily, so you knew you had to play it along, even if you barely felt anything other than anger. “Yeah. My boyfriend.”

“You broke up with him once, you can do it again,” he said and pointed at the pen and paper on the kitchen island, “Just write you need some time or whatever, he can see it when he gets here. Less suspicions.”

You grabbed the pen and paper, then clenched your teeth, your mind working nonstop.

“I’m waiting, Y/N.”

You stole a look at him, then leaned in to write on the paper;

Hamlet,

I need some time alone.

Ophelia.

Ophelia died in a lake, and you hoped that Spencer could make the connection between that and the time you had told him about Lincoln pushing you into the lake by the cabin.

He took a look at the note, then made a face.

“You call him Hamlet?” he said, shaking his head, “I never really liked that play. Let’s go.”

“Do you seriously think I would harm you, in any way?” he asked when you got to the stone stairs leading to the cabin, “I will explain everything once we sit down.”

“Will you untie me?”

“I’m not an idiot,” he answered as you climbed the stairs after him, his grip on your arm almost too tight and you gritted your teeth to stop yourself from coming up with a comeback. You looked up at the cabin, the memory of the last time you were there hitting you out of nowhere and churning your stomach, but you managed not to throw up as he slightly pushed you through the open door.

Don’t be scared, you commanded yourself in your head Fear is useless.

That was one of the things your father had taught you during those predator and prey games. Prey always got scared, which led them to panic, which led them to making mistakes that would cost them their lives.

You were a predator. You had always been a predator, since you were a child, and there was no fucking way Lincoln of all people could turn you into a prey.

He pulled a chair, then motioned at you to sit down.

“Remember, if you try anything…” he said, “If I don’t send the code to my friend—“

“Yeah, you’ll hurt my niece,” you spat, “Some man, aren’t you? Threatening a kid.”

He untied your hands, then pulled them behind the chair and started tying them again, and you raised your brows slightly.

Rather than wrapping the rope around your wrists separately then pulling them together, he was just tying them together, which was a terrible rookie mistake your father would never have done. Escaping from those, especially with a rope was almost easy with enough knowledge, and you slightly widened the gap between your wrists by pressing your thumbs together, not wide enough to make him suspicious but wide enough to give you enough space to move your wrists when you wanted to get rid of the ropes.

Almost everything was automatic at this point, you were following everything your father had made sure to engrave into your mind.

“There, that’s better,” he said and let out a breath, a small smile pulling at his lips, “Hi.”

You tilted your head, looking at him silently.

“That was a bluff by the way. I would never hurt anyone you love, I thought you knew that by now.”

That seemed to distract you from the fury, “What?”

“Everyone that I killed,” he pulled a seat for himself so that he could sit across from you and leaned in slightly, elbows on his knees, “Everyone, that was for you. I did it for you. Don’t you see that? From that childhood friend to your douchebag ex?”

Oh God you were going to be sick.

Spencer was right. You were sitting with the copycat killer back there, at the charity auction.

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” he ran a hand through his hair, “You told me what was happening, when we were kids. You told me a week before that night in the graveyard, that’s how your father let me come with you both. My parents had drunk too much at your parents’ party— you don’t remember any of that? I was the one who you shared that sacred secret with, no one else, not even your family. It was me.”

“Sacred?” you repeated, “My father was a monster, Lincoln.”

“Don’t say that,” he shook his head, the glare in his eyes sharpening, “Never say that. He…he is way ahead of all of us, if he didn’t get caught he’d be an even bigger legend than he already is. He brought us together.”

“You brought me here by threatening me and you tied me to a chair. My father is a terrible person, but this right here is your choice you fucking asshole.”

“Because I need you to understand,” he nodded to himself, “You will understand.”

“I will understand what?”

“That I did this for us!” he snapped and he swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath, “That I love you.”

A hysterical laugh escaped from your lips and you gawked at him.

“You love me,” you repeated, “You— you have been terrorizing me for months, you killed people, you fucking destroyed my life because you love me?”

“I’ll set you free,” he said, “Free of all these bounds everyone else put you into. I’ve seen your potential back when we were still kids, then after your father was arrested they turned you into something else, some shadow of what you’re capable of. Then I came back and you…” he ran a hand over his face, “You decided to get into an agent’s bed.”

“Don’t even—“

“He would try to change you,” he cut you off, sniffling, “He would, Petal. He would smother you with these stupid ethical rules and all that bullshit, but I’ll— we’ll be free together.”

If your last encounter with your father had taught you anything, it was that delusional killers didn’t exactly react well to a reality check. You moved your hands under the ropes, pulling at them just a little.

You would just have to play along until you were free, then you could be out of there.

The more you know about your prey, your father’s voice echoed in your ears, The easier it will be to take them down.

“How about your girlfriend?”

His head shot up and he shrugged,

“I mean,” he trailed off, “She thinks she’s my girlfriend.”

You gritted your teeth. “Erica,” you said, “Right. My girlfriend doesn’t have the same financial status as we do, huh? My fucking assistant, Lincoln? What did you offer her?”

“Offer her?” he asked, “I didn’t have to offer her anything. Who did you think your father’s outside source was?”

You pulled back slightly and he scoffed a laugh.

“I know,” he said, “She wants to kill you, not that I would ever let her, but she can believe that for the time being. I know you feel betrayed honey—“

“Don’t call me that.”

“But we only need her until a point, after she makes a phone call to get your family off our backs, she will be my gift to you.”

You dug your fingernails into your palms to remind yourself to focus, “Your gift?”

“There’s nothing like killing someone you know,” he dragged the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, “It’s not like strangers, not at all. That shit’s special, Petal. You’ll see when the time comes.”

Before you could even think of an answer, you heard the footsteps coming closer and the door opened, making you turn your head to see Erica who almost looked intimidated for a moment upon seeing you, but she managed to pull herself together.

“You might want to check out the west team,” she told Lincoln and he paused.

“Can I trust you with this?”

Erica frowned, “You can trust me with anything, you know that,” she said softly and you closed your eyes for a moment, pulling at the ropes tight enough to hurt before you felt it get loose just a little. The rough material of the ropes almost burnt your skin the more you kept moving your hands, but you gritted your teeth, trying to ignore it.

You heard the door close and the lock sliding into its place as you opened your eyes, and saw Erica putting the key into her pocket.

“I like your dress,” she said as she sat down, “Too bad it’ll get bloody.”

“You were my father’s outside source?” you asked, trying to ignore her comment, “You?”

She gave you a bright smile, and rested her arm on the back of the chair, making herself comfortable.

“That’s right.”

“Whatever he’s paying you—“

“He’s not paying me,” she spat as if she was insulted at the implication, “You ungrateful little bitch. I’m doing this because I want to, because I respect him. I believe in what he stands for, not like you would understand.”

“Jesus, you’re one of those freaks,” you muttered to yourself, tugging at the ropes around your wrists, “Serial killer groupie huh?”

“I’m not a groupie,” she spat, “I respect your father, not just any serial killer. It’s him. No one in your family deserves him, much less you, and—“ she shook her head, “The way you disrespect him and his name…”

“Disrespect him?” you let out a laugh, “Oh that’s rich.”

“He was right, you know?” she said, “Only the smart and strong is supposed to survive in this world, not weak. And he tried to raise you to follow in his footsteps, but you were too weak to do so. He just doesn’t see that.”

You clicked your tongue, “But you see that?”

“If he were my father,” she leaned in, gritting her teeth, “It doesn’t matter. By the time this is over, after I get rid of you and prove myself, he will see me as a daughter. Not you. You’re not strong enough to survive in our world. Lincoln agrees—“

“Lincoln is using you,” you cut her off, “He’s going to get rid of you as soon as he’s done. Let me guess, he told you you could kill me?”

“We’ll make you regret disrespecting father’s name first, then I will kill you, yes.”

“Yeah that’s not gonna happen,” you said, “Face it, you fucking idiot. He’s using you, just like my father is using—“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence when she lunged from her seat and slapped you across the face, her ring splitting your lip. You made a face, and spat out the blood filling your mouth, trying to ignore the sting on your tongue upon biting it.

“You know what?” she asked, “Lincoln always said no for some reason, but if you keep going like that, I can make you hurt really bad.”

“Aw sweetheart, you don’t have enough training for that,” you cooed, “What, you did some google search, looked up my father’s methods and now you think you can torture people? You think that’s how it goes?”

“I didn’t say it’d be physical,” she curled her lips, “You wouldn’t want your family to get hurt, do you?”

Your eyes snapped up to hers, that fire awakening at the pit of your stomach. She tilted her head, obviously pleased with your reaction.

“I suggested Lily instead of your ex….Anthony, was it? I said we should kill her and put her in the middle of your living room back then, but Linc said no. He said it’d hurt your father too.”

A numbness spread over your forehead, then went to the back of your head, reaching your spine as you blinked a couple of times.

“You were going to kill my niece?” you heard yourself ask and Erica crossed her legs.

“I bet that would’ve made you think twice before you disrespected John.”

You could almost feel it. Feel the fury taking over, that anger your father had always insisted you possessed roaring through you until it reached your heart, wrapping itself around it tighter and tighter.

Let the predator come out Petal, your father used to say Let it come out.

You rolled your shoulder back and cracked your neck with your eyes closed, an exact copy of your father as you twisted your hands under the ropes before you opened your eyes again to look at Erica.

“You don’t deserve him,” she insisted, “You all—you all just locked him away and forgot about him until Linc came back, until we started this. He will see soon that blood means nothing, me and Linc are going to be his legacy, not you.”

You tugged a little harder around the knot, then turned your wrist and managed to pull it out of the tight rope even if it scratched the skin over your wrists, making the burn spread over your arm.

“He taught you some stuff, big fucking deal,” she said, “I learned by myself. Without anyone to help me. Without someone else holding my hand.”

You clenched your fists, trying to ignore the throbbing as you slowly pulled your other hand out of the knotted rope.

“Yeah you missed a rule though,” you asked, dragging the tip of your tongue over the dried blood on your lip, “You’re not supposed to make them bleed unless you can kill them.”

Erica pulled her brows together, then a shriek escaped from her lips as soon as you let the rope fall, raising your hands in a mocking manner so that she could see.

“You chose the wrong victim, baby,” you said and she kicked the chair at you, then darted for upstairs, screaming while you just raised your brows, rolling your eyes.

Panic always led to mistakes like these, like rushing to somewhere one couldn’t escape from.

Upstairs was always a bad idea.

You made your way to the kitchen and pulled open the second drawer where your mother used to keep the knives, then grabbed a huge knife before you flipped it in your hand.

“Erica,” you called out, “Get back here, you’re fucking fired!”

She slammed a door upstairs and you scoffed a laugh, adrenaline pulsing through you as you dragged the tip of the knife over the walls, climbing the stairs.

“You know, if you give me the key I might make it quick,” you flipped the knife again, playing with it before you ran it over the steel staircase finial, letting her hear the sharp noise, “No promises though.”

Silence.

“I know you’re in here,” you sang, looking into the dark. Your father had taught you this long ago, if you couldn’t see, you had to make sure how to listen in the dark to find the location of whoever you wanted to hunt.

You took a deep breath and held it, not even moving a muscle and sure enough, a very faint creak reached your ears and you turned your head.

Second door to the left.

It used to be Mina’s room.

You let out a whistle echoing in the otherwise silent hall, disappearing into the dark before you stood in front of the door and ran the tip of the knife over the wood, almost relishing the slight whimper coming from the other side of the room.

“You were going to go after my family?” your voice rose as you kicked at the door, and Erica let out another scream.

“Lincoln!”

“Oh come on, where’s that strong survivor you’ve been telling me so much about?” you taunted, kicking at the door again but it didn’t open. “Hm? I thought you were going to prove yourself?”

“I-I swallowed the key, I can’t give it to you!”

“Ah well, I guess I’ll have to cut you open!” you shouted and kicked at the door once again and at last, the lock broke with a click and the door swung open, hitting the wall. Erica grabbed the chair closest to her, holding it up.

“Don’t!”

You flipped the knife in your hand, the grinned and took a step to her, so focused on adrenaline pulsing through your system that you didn’t even notice her eyes focusing on something over your shoulder until it was too late. Before you could even turn around, someone pulled you back, expertly avoiding the knife by bending your arm back and pressed a cloth over your mouth and nose, that sharp scent making you gag.

Chloroform.

Lincoln.

A tingling reached your head and that fuzzy warmth reached the back of your head, then closed your eyes shut.

***

You had no idea how long it took you out, but when you opened your eyes, it was still night. You grabbed at the side of your head and sat up in the bed, the whole room spinning around you.

Your childhood bedroom. You were in your childhood bedroom in the cabin.

“Hey,” Lincoln’s voice reached you and you turned your head to see him leaning on the doorframe.

Shit.

That was a mistake. Of course that was a mistake, and you couldn’t even believe yourself just how stupid you had been to act so careless.

“Easy, chloroform messes you up,” Lincoln said, “I’d stay in the bed for a while if I were you. You can’t attack anyone like this, you know?”

You weren’t supposed to follow your dad’s example in a situation like this. There was a reason why he was locked away, a reason why people had caught up with what he was doing, he was way too impulsive, way too destructive in terms of physical means. You had been so focused on protecting your family and going after the nearest threat that you had forgotten who you were.

You weren’t just your father’s daughter, you were also your mother’s.

And this right here? It wasn’t your father’s expertise yet, his time would come when you would have to fight your way out.

It was your mother’s.

Manipulation.

It was time to channel her, not your father.

“What happened?” you asked and Lincoln heaved a sigh, then pushed himself off the doorframe.

“You went after Erica,” he said, “She’s pretty shaken, but I told you Petal. You need to be patient, we just need her up to a point. After that, she’s all yours.”

You narrowed your eyes and slowly swung your legs over the edge of the bed, running a hand through your hair.

“And how much longer will I be subjected to this humiliation of yours? Can you give me an exact time or should I just wait here?”

He stared at you for a moment, trying to understand what you meant and you just arched a brow, a look of completely nonchalant sneer flashing over your face, the exact same expression you had seen on your mother countless times.

“I’ll take this silence as a no.”

“Humiliation?” he repeated, “When- how did I humiliate you?”

“How did you humiliate me?” you scoffed a laugh, “Are you serious right now?”

Jesus, your head was absolutely killing you but you had to focus.

“I’d never humiliate you, I love you.”

“Yeah yeah,” you waved a dismissive hand in the air, “You love me, we’re supposed to be together. I guess I’ll have to take your word for it while ignoring your actions, is that it?”

“My actions? Y/N—“

“So you bring me in here,” you cut him off, glaring at him, “You give me this whole speech about how you’d do anything for me, how we’re—we’re meant to be, and then you leave me in the same room with your ex so that she can boast about you? How you two are in love, how you two are together?”

“I told you, we just need her until—“

“That’s your love?” you interrupted him again and pushed yourself to stand up, crossing your arms while looking him dead in the eye, “Is that the proof of your love? Rubbing your girlfriend on my face? All the while she talks about how you two are going to be my father’s legacy together, like I don’t exist?”

“She just thinks that, I made her think that so that we can use her—“

“And then,” you said through your teeth, “You stop me and knock me out while I’m going after her to get rid of her?” you clapped your hands slowly, “Yeah. Proclamation of love right there Linc, congratulations.”

He licked his lips, obviously taking aback. “Y/N, we need her for now.”

“Mm hm, exactly,” you shot him a sweet smile “Looks like you need her a lot.”

“Not like that,” he shook his head, “Not what you think, I swear. She’s nothing.”

“No, I think she’s not nothing,” you clicked your tongue, “I think you formed some sort of attachment to your prey—“

“I didn’t!”

“Because you grew soft for her, and now you’re confused whether you want me more or her.”

He strode to you in three steps and pulled you closer, tilting your head up, and you had to command yourself not to make a face.

“I want you,” he said, “I always have, you know that.”

“Bullshit.”

He groaned, “Y/N-“

“No, it’s fucking bullshit.” You pushed his hands away, and searched your mind for the final nail on the coffin.

“Did you sleep with her?”

The expression on Lincoln’s face shifted and he averted his eyes.

Bingo.

“Did you? While you were in love with me, while you knew that we were meant to be, did you or did you not sleep with her?”

“You slept with that agent,” he shot back and you shook your head.

“I didn’t know you would do anything for me,” you insisted, “I had no idea—you said you had a girlfriend, I barely remember anything from my childhood let alone sharing so much with you and you didn’t tell me. But you knew,” you dug your finger into his chest, “You knew everything and you kept it hidden from me, so answer me this, did you sleep with her? While you knew you were in love with me?”

He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth, then closed it again, and you took a step back, trying to look heartbroken.

“Wow.”

“Y/N.”

“Wow. You actually did.”

“Listen to me, she doesn’t mean anything, I swear to you. It was just to manipulate—“

“Get out of my room.”

He frowned, “What?”

“Get the fuck out of my room and leave me alone until you’re ready to show me you actually love me.”

“You don’t mean that,” he started and took a step towards you, but you grabbed the nearest object which turned out to be one of your old dusty plushies and threw it to him.

“Get out!” you yelled and he took a step back, raising his hands.

“I’ll… I’ll come back when you’re calmer,” he said and closed the door behind him, and you lost your balance, falling on your knees.

People were just so easy to manipulate, thanks to your mother.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “Thanks mom, time for dad’s turn.”

Weapons.

You reached under your bed to take a look at the secret compartment that your dad used to make you put your knives, but it was of course empty. Lincoln was stupid when it came to you, but he wasn’t a complete idiot, apparently. You pushed yourself off your knees and stood up, then closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, trying to clear your mind.

Your father had taught you this long before, in every room, there was something you could use as a weapon or turn into one.

You took a deep breath, exhaled it and opened your eyes.

It would have to be something precise, Lincoln had a point, you were in no shape to get into an actual fight with him. So you would need something sharp, and something that you could hide in either your sleeve or somewhere easily reachable. Something that Lincoln wouldn’t see until the next time.

You could tear down the bed to get to the bed springs, but it would take a long time and there was the danger of him walking in on you.

There was a chair and your post-its, some tape, small notebooks by the corner, hair ties and a music box on the desk in front of the window—

The music box.

The music box had a mirror.

“There you are,” you muttered to yourself as you took the music box, then grabbed the tape and your hair ties. You checked the door, then sat down, covered the mirror with the long skirt of your dress, then pushed on it with your elbow until you heard the small noise of the mirror breaking. You pulled back and uncovered it, then grabbed the longest shard, ripped out a couple of pages from your notebook and started taping it around the shard before you wrapped your hair ties around it so as not to let it slip or hurt your hand.

By the time you heard Lincoln’s footsteps coming upstairs, you had spent almost an hour preparing your weapon. You looked up, then closed the music box and put it back before tucking your newly made weapon under the lacy sleeve of your dress, and got on the bed, leaned your back to the bedframe and crossed your arms.

“Petal?” Lincoln called out and you gritted your teeth and turned your head when he peeked his head in.

“Hey, do you want to join me for some food downstairs?”

You narrowed your eyes, “Depends. Will your girlfriend be joining us?”

“I knocked her out and put her in your dad’s basement,” Lincoln said, “She will stay there until you feel like getting rid of her, and I won’t stand in your way this time. Okay?”

He offered you his hand and you eyed it, then pushed it away and managed to stand up on your own.

“Still dizzy?”

“A little,” you confessed, “Still angry too.”

Lincoln chuckled and heaved a sigh, “We need to talk about this jealousy of yours babe.”

You managed to control your expression and ignored him as you went downstairs. The rug was pulled to the side so that you could see the hidden door to the basement, but it was closed. You looked at the table in the middle of the living room that was covered in food, and there was a vase of jasmine flowers between the lit candles. You were still sure that you couldn’t engage in an actual fight until the chloroform was completely out of your system, but you didn’t have to worry about it since Lincoln seemed not to put any knives on the table. Your dad’s old vinyl was playing by the corner, the soothing melody creating a complete contrast with what was happening.

“A dance before dinner?” he asked you, “Come on. That dress needs to be used in a dance, don’t you think?”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders and took his hand, then wrapped your arms around his neck as he pressed his hands to the small of your back, pulling you closer before you started swaying with the melody.

You just needed an exact time for him to lower his defenses completely, because you only had one shot at this.

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

“You have no idea how much I waited for this,” he said, “When I was in Italy, I would….dream of this at night.”

You didn’t answer, you just made sure to keep your wrist at an angle so that the mirror shard wouldn’t slip.

“And when I came back and saw you for the first time in that red gown…” he murmured, “I thought I would drop dead. You were even more beautiful than I pictured.”

“Why didn’t you tell me back then?” you asked absentmindedly and he shrugged.

“I didn’t know how you would react.”

“And all those people who died?”

“Some of them were diversion,” he said, “Some of them were chosen. I promised myself no one could make you sad, ever. I would’ve killed that agent too if he was the one to break up with you, but then you said it was your choice, and… I don’t know. I thought it’d raise suspicions.”

Spencer.

He had considered killing Spencer.

Goosebumps rose on your skin but you reminded yourself to stay calm and focus, you had already slipped once because of your anger, you wouldn’t get a second chance.

“What about Anthony?” you asked, “You killed him… was it to frame me?”

“God no,” he said, shaking his head, “Of course not. Erica thought it was revenge for how you were treating John, but I wanted to make you remember how it felt to be in the scene of your father’s doing, how….how powerful it made you feel. I thought that would make you see how everyone around you was trying to make you into something you’re not. Deep down, Y/N, you’re just like me. That’s why we will be legends.”

A bitter taste appeared at the back of your throat and you swallowed thickly.

“And my father?”

“He knew we were supposed to be together,” he said, “He knew you would need a…companion in this. Us, free together. That’s why your father failed, because he couldn’t share who he was with your mother. It won’t happen with us, ever.”

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

You moved your wrist so that the shard could slip low enough for you to hold it and Lincoln leaned in slightly, his eyes closing.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips and you smiled.

“Oh Lincoln,” you murmured, your heart beating in your ears, “You should’ve known better.”

With that, you drove the shard right into his stomach, making him gasp and open his eyes. Betrayal was written all over his face, it was very clear he hadn’t expected it as you twisted the shard, making him lose his breath before you pulled it back, blood splashing over your face and your dress. You shoved him, making him lose his balance and fall down, taking the coffee table with him, causing some noise and as if on cue, Erica started screaming his name from the basement.

“Erica, shut up before I come down there and break your fucking neck!” you called out and the screaming stopped.

“Thank you,” you said and turned to grin at Lincoln who was breathing hard, his face pale.

“Y/N—“

“Oh don’t worry, you won’t die right away,” you said, “Dad taught me that one, ages ago. I stabbed you in the stomach, and it’s a pretty thin shard, so it’s not the blood loss that will kill you. It’ll be the toxic shock, because right now everything in your stomach including acid is contaminating your system. Should be fun, huh?”

“Why did you—“ he coughed, and you snapped your fingers.

“Hold that thought, I gotta get something from the kitchen,” you said and walked to the kitchen to open the drawers, then grabbed some knives and scissors before you want back to the living room, “Yeah, you were saying?”

“We’re meant to be,” he managed to say, trying to breathe and you hopped on the table before you cut the floor length skirt, ripping it out.

If you were going to run through the woods, you needed to be in something you could easily move and fight in.

“Nah we’re not,” you said, “You’re delusional, that’s it.”

“Petal—“

“See, I could’ve gone easy on you,” you said, wrapping the cloth around your injured wrist, “Really. I could’ve just escaped and handed you to the FBI and be done with it, but no. You two had to bring my family and Spencer into this so now,” you tut-tutted, “Now you get to suffer.”

“He doesn’t understand you,” he said, pressing on the wound and leaning his head back to the wall, “He never will, not like I do. We’re meant to get rid of every weak person in the world, everyone who deserves to die.”

You let out a laugh, now wrapping the cloth around your knuckles, “Uh huh.”

“You’re meant to be the legacy.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just meant to be a wedding planner,” you pointed at him with the knife and walked to him to grab the key from his pocket, then you pulled his boots off his feet, took off your heels and started getting into his boots.

“Petal, we’re supposed to be together.”

“Because my insane sadistic father said so?”

“Because I know you.”

You looked up from the boots you were tying as tight as possible, “Hm? You know me?”

“I do.”

You put two of the knives in each boot and jumped down to rock on the balls of your feet, trying to see if you could move well.

“That’s your first mistake buddy,” you said, now wrapping the rope over your boots, “See if you knew me, you wouldn’t be so careless, would you? You took me here and what? You didn’t think I’d kill my way out? You didn’t think I’d turn you and your serial killer groupie partner into my prey?” You pulled at the rope, “Honestly, you two fucked with the wrong legacy.”

“I don’t—“

“My father raised me to be unstoppable,” you said, “And apparently you know that. So you should’ve considered that it’d take more than two copycats to take me down, and—“ a manic laughter escaped from your lips, “Did you seriously think you could beat me at my own fucking game?”

He coughed, making a face and closed his eyes.

“You have hours until you die, but if I make it out on time, maybe I’ll send some medics here. Maybe. Depends on if I feel merciful, who knows?” you grinned, “Your survival depends on my mood, isn’t that ironic?”

“There are ten men between here and your weekend house, you’d never make it out.”

“I’m not going north,” you said and Lincoln frowned.

“South? That’s just woods.”

“No, it’s a longer way than north, but there’s a road at the end. Dad once made me find my way through the woods.”

“You can’t leave me behind,” he coughed again, “We’re meant to be together. We’re meant to work together and kill together, that’s our love story.”

You pursed your lips, then grabbed a jasmine from the vase and walked towards him.

“Even if I wanted to follow in that monster’s footsteps,” you said, looking down at him, “Even if I wanted a companion, it wouldn’t be you. You’re fucking dead weight, Linc. You don’t have what it takes.”

With that, you let the flower drop on him, unlocked the door and stepped outside, the chill air filling your lungs. After looking around to see whether it was safe, you went to the back of the house, and looked up at the stars, calculating which way to go.

Then, you tied your hair up and started running.

***

As it turned out, Lincoln had fewer men on the south of the woods, but there were still people. You had gotten rid of two of them and tied them up with the rope you had taken with you, but it would take one mistake for them to drag you back to the cabin, so you couldn’t take any risks.

You heard the faint noise of a radio and looked over your shoulder, then climbed up to the nearest tree, keeping as silent as possible. The light of a flashlight soon lit up under you and a man came into your view.

“South number five is clear,” he said into the radio and as soon as he put it into his pocket, you jumped down silently, standing behind him for a moment before you smacked his head into the tree, making him pass out. You unwrapped a part of the rope and tied his hands and feet before you stuck the cloth around your arm into his mouth so that when he woke up he wouldn’t be able to ask for help. You let out a breath and walked deeper into the woods, but as soon as you jumped over a tree root, someone grabbed you by the hair and slammed you head first into the tree. A ringing echoed in your ears, getting louder and louder but you managed to pull the knife from your boot and drive it into his leg, making him grunt and you used your whole body weight to turn around with his arm around you, popping it out of its socket and he dropped you with a yelp, kicking you in the ribs and a fire spread from your ribs into your whole body, making you stop the scream at the last minute.

“You fucking bitch-“ he said but as soon as he grabbed you again, you managed to push yourself up and grab the rest of the rope you had left. You kicked him back and jumped on his back, wrapping the rope around his neck as he tried to get you off.

“I’m not killing you you fucking idiot!” you grit out as he slammed back into the tree to get you off, “I’m making you pass out, that’s all!”

Soon enough, he dropped to his knees and fell to the ground while you tried to catch your breath, but everything hurt. You wiped at the blood that was seeping from the cut on your forehead, drenching your face and your dress but managed to tie him up and get away from him.

It didn’t take you long though. It felt like the whole forest was spinning around you and you felt someone pulling the ground from under your feet before you fell back, your eyes closing.

You had no idea how long you stayed there unconscious but the unmistakable sound of a shot being fired made you open your eyes with a gasp as you winced at the pain pulsing through your whole body.

“It doesn’t sound so good.”

You slowly turned your head to see your father sitting by the tree, his arms crossed and you let out a groan.

“Is this hell?” you asked, “I just died and it’s hell, right? There’s no way I’m hallucinating about you.”

“You didn’t die yet,” your father said as he looked at the way the shot was fired. “I assume you didn’t search for Lincoln’s gun before you walked out of the cabin?”

“Lincoln can’t move,” you said and your father tut-tutted.

“Erica could move just fine the last you saw her though.”

“Shit.” You closed your eyes for a moment and your father heaved a sigh.

“So what do we have here?” he said, “Head injury, concussion, loss of blood, and that guy over there just broke a rib or two, right?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, you wouldn’t stand a chance against someone coming at you with a gun when you’re like this.”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes burning.

“I can’t move,” you managed to say through your teeth, “It hurts.”

“Does it hurt enough to kill you? Because that’s what will happen if she and her men find you here.”

You tried to blink back the tears, “What if it’s supposed to end this way?”

“Supposed to end this way?” your father stood up and glared down at you, “Petal, I didn’t spend years to train you just so that you could die in a forest in the middle of nowhere. Get up.”

“Dad, I tried to survive, okay?” you said, “I tried—”

“Well, that’s not enough right now, is it though?” he asked and snapped his fingers, “You’re a survivor, your mother and I made sure of that. Stop acting like a prey, get up.”

“Dad-“

“Get up!” his voice shot through your head and you opened your eyes again, coughing, that ringing in your ears due to the pain blocking out everything but the gunshot that sounded much closer than before. You dug your fingernails into your palms and pulled yourself up by grabbing at the nearest tree, then wiped the blood off your face again.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, “Okay, Stop acting like a prey. Which way to go?”

You looked up at the night sky and found the star you were looking for before you started making your way through the forest, even if it felt like you could pass out any second. You had no idea how long you had been walking when all of a sudden the brightness of flashlight entered your vision, making you hold your breath and grab the handle of your knife tighter, thinking that it was Lincoln and Erica’s men.

It was only when you saw a very familiar face wearing an FBI vest that you let out the breath you were holding, the knife slipping from your grip.

“Spencer?” you rasped out and he just stared at you before he started running to you.

“You’re alive,” he managed to say before he pulled you into a tight hug, making you wince in pain. He pulled back immediately, his hands cradling your head.

“Are you—“

He didn’t get to finish that sentence. It happened in less than a second, but the sound of a gunshot that rang through the forest echoed in your ears before blood splattered over his face, making you stumble as if someone pushed you from behind.

“Why is there blood?” you managed to ask before a fire spread through your chest, taking your breath away and Spencer’s eyes widened as he lowered them to the gunshot wound bleeding on your chest. Everyone ran past you, yelling something into the radio and shooting their guns at someone behind you while the fire made its way through your whole system, the ringing in your ears getting worse.

The last thing you remembered was Spencer catching you before you hit the ground but whatever he was saying to you got drowned out in the loud noise of the helicopter flying above you. The lights of it got brighter and brighter before a warmth pulled you out of the pain and surrounded you.

Then everything went black.

Chapter 28

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer #reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #twisted

1K notes · View notes

free-pool-trash · 3 years

Text

happiness - peter maximoff

yay a new peter fic <3 i was feeling a little unmotivated for a few days (since our boy wasn’t in episode 8 at all :/) but im back 😎 although im back in school so i might be on and off for a while 😩✋🏻

!!!it’s not a songfic those lyrics at the start are just my inspo!!!

word count: 5k <3 😳

warnings: maybe swearing but i dont think so i cant remember, peter being sad, angst, but mostly fluff, WandaVision spoilers maybe??? I pretty much made up this plot so idk, endgame spoilers, reader was an avenger, kissing but it’s not graphic😽 probably some mistakes yk how it is

feedback is appreciated <3

tagging: @enchantedcruelsummer (should i make a peter maximoff taglist? let me know and I’ll do it)

masterlist

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

& there is happiness

Loneliness had always been something that plagued him. That and a plethora of other negative emotions.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Peter Maximoff wasn’t made to feel like a loser. Admittedly, he’d never held himself to a high standard, he grew up thinking that he’d never fit in anywhere and eventually that thought mutated into a lifestyle as he began isolating himself from the world around him, either far too good or heartbreakingly not enough to be a part of that crowd.

He liked spending time with himself. Nobody else knew him the way he knew him, and still, he found nothing but an overwhelming hollow space where his deepest most important hopes, aspirations, dreams and self discoveries should have resided.

Peter had always put this feeling of exile down to the fact that he was a mutant, it was the most likely explanation, right?

It was only when he’d decided to join the X-Men that he finally came to the conclusion that maybe the rest of the world wasn’t the problem, nor was his mutation the problem, but that he himself was the problem. For even in a school full of people exactly like him he was still the same loser that he was in his mother’s basement.

And he was under no illusions that that was exactly what his teammates saw in him; nothing. No potential. Just a space holder to bring the numbers up.

Super speed was incredible. That’s how Peter acknowledged jobs well done, he praised his speed but never himself. He just saved Charles and Erik from a room full of armed guards? No that wasn’t him, that was simply his speed. He saved an entire mansion full of people from a potentially fatal explosion? Nothing special, Kurt probably could’ve done the same.

Forget all of the good deeds and saved lives because the bottom line of it all, to him at least, was that all he was good for was cheeky one liners and hopeless kleptomania.

His life took a turn for the worse when he found himself being mind controlled in an alternate universe. And even then, he was playing the part of someone that wasn’t him, the thought humbled him, reconnected him to his roots and reintroduced him to his life long philosophy that he’d never be anything more than a social pariah. Not even an alternate reality could accept him for who he was. There wasn’t a warm welcome and despite not knowing what was going on, the definition of “imposter” or the weirder, “recast”, still shot to kill.

He settled on the notion that he was an inter dimensional waste of space. At least in WestView he could be blissfully ignorant, let the real him be drowned mercilessly in favour of being an integral part of someone’s life- to feel important, even if it wasn’t real.

When WestView fell apart he was completely lost. In every sense of the word. In a new world with no way home and as it turned out, nobody was looking for him. Although he didn’t expect anyone to care, it still stung that nobody did. He always hoped that one day Erik would step up as a father figure for him, this; getting kidnapped and smuggled into a different dimension, seemed like the perfect moment for that epic father son moment, but it wouldn’t surprise Peter if his father has yet to notice his disappearance.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he came into contact with a beacon of hope. A guiding star that might possibly lead him to an existence consisting of something other than misery and self loathing.

It offered him a choice; return to being the self proclaimed loser he was known as or start fresh as someone new and mysterious, with first impressions yet to be made and conclusions about him yet to be drawn. Peter had known himself to be rash in the past, when it came to making decisions he had the tendency to act impulsively, never putting too much thought into how his decisions would affect his life in the long term. The choice before him now is no different, he knew exactly what he wanted going forward, however selfish the choice may have been, the second he realised it was an option his heart was set on it.

That previously mentioned beacon of hope arrived to him in the form of a girl, in the form of you. An ex-avenger and close friend of Wanda’s, you were hired by S.W.O.R.D to help them clean up the more ‘sensitive’ fallout that the fall of WestView brought about. Obviously, they were sticking you- the only other avenger with magik- on babysitting and rehabilitation rather than letting you go after your best friend who had gone completely off the rails. Having said that though, you didn’t want anyone else handling him.

You hadn’t watched WandaVision, nor were you even aware that any of it was going on until it had reached a boiling point and you got a call from Monica Rambeau, she’d begged you to come and wait on the edge of town while she went in and act as her eyes on the outside along with Jimmy Woo.

That’s where you stayed until the hex broke down.

As soon as the barrier came down the base you manned was overrun by an armada of terribly confused and distressed citizens, Monica and Wanda were not among them but in their places stumbled in Darcy and the man playing the role of Pietro.

Jimmy appointed himself to Darcy, who in all honesty seemed relatively unscathed by the situation while you made a beeline for the dirty blonde charading as your former, dead teammate.

Peter was, to put it simply, completely enthralled by you as soon as you’d strolled over to him and in the moment he’d put his almost magnetic attraction to you down to the fact that you were the first friendly face he’d seen upon breaking free of Agatha’s possession.

But one thing in particular struck him; you’d asked him his name. You hadn’t immediately assumed him to be some knock off Pietro, as everyone else had. You acknowledged that he had his own personal identity and despite how often he caught himself hating the person he was, he found that when it was torn away from him that he wanted it back. The simple question you posed gave him the opportunity to regain his identity.

“Peter. My name is Peter.” He answered you, almost unsure of himself and you found your interest in the man piqued even further.

He remembered with perfect clarity the way you’d offered him a grin, tilted your hand, extended your hand and said, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Peter. Come on, I’ll be your babysitter for the next while.” There was something about the way you’d laughed after saying the words and the slight, yet unmistakable, glint of mischief in your eyes that had him captivated from the get go.

With you came a whirlwind of new emotions. After only a few weeks of knowing you, Peter noticed he wasn’t as lonely as he had been back home. He didn’t hate himself half as much either, he wasn’t entirely free of self deprovative tendencies and maybe he never would be, but undoubtedly, he likes himself more in this world than he ever had in his last. He thanked you and your determination to make him “a functioning member of society” for that.

It didn’t feel belittling, the way you helped him. You hadn’t dragged him to your favourite mall every weekend just to taunt him about how he couldn’t stop himself from stealing something. Even the very first time, when he’d sped away from you and returned within a second adoring a pair of freshly stolen sunglasses. Your only reaction had been to laugh and casually place your hands on both sides of his face.

“At least remember to take the tag off next time, speedy.” You’d muttered, subtly pulling the tacky stickers off the arms of his shades. No, you weren’t dragging him sight seeing or forcing him to help you go clothes shopping because you thought he was a loser who needed reforming you were doing it because you were a true friend who wanted him to succeed.

The pair of you seemed like two peas in a pod. Which to be fair, you were. Peter Maximoff intrigued you in every sense of the word. He was new, quite literally other worldly, he was kind, he was funny, he was perfectly mischievous and completely wonderful.

What caught your eye the most was the way he held himself, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. It became apparent to you that he lacked confidence with the phrases he usually tacked onto the ends of his sentences. When you’d invite him to hang out in the beginning his response would always be something along the lines of, “Sure. If you want me to.” But the excitable puppy dog eyes told you that he was dying for someone to want him to tag along some place.

There was a certain understanding between you. You were both more than accustomed with the harrowing feeling of being alone and even though you’d never exactly voiced those thoughts with each other, you couldn’t deny that his was a spirit kindred to your own and he felt it too.

Since the Avengers has disbanded, one of your best friends, Natasha, was dead and your other best friend, Wanda, was gone completely off the rails and the people chasing her wouldn’t let you anywhere near her or even attempt to help pull her out of her darkness. You were being kept as a wildcard in case they needed her taken down. Peter was no stranger to the feeling of being cast aside and so he quickly responded to your frustrations, and in doing so, forced himself out of his comfort zone to be there for you. To his complete shock though, you’d been so appreciative of his efforts.

You never failed to thank him for the little things he did for you, always complimenting his mutation when he’d use it and giving him the recognition he never received at home. The friendship he formed with you was so… two sided, again, something he wasn’t accustomed to before. It didn’t involve him giving everything he had to offer and receiving nothing in return, you matched his energy meticulously and never left him hanging.

In a series of firsts, he didn’t wonder whether or not you genuinely liked him, never feeling the need or want to question it as you’d left him with no reason to doubt.

As he walked around the mall with you now, his mind brought his attention back to the question you’d asked him rather casually a few nights ago. You were both lounging on your couch, watching some ridiculous reality show (a favourite of yours and Peter’s) when you’d turned your head to look at him, a thoughtful look on your face. “Do you think when S.W.O.R.D figures the technology out to crack into other realities, you’ll go back to yours?”

The question had taken him aback for a second, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about going home, not when he was with you at least and considering he’d become your roommate about three weeks after he got out of WestView, the thought of returning to his old life had barely crossed his mind.

Being an ex-Avenger you were fairly well off, you lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in New York that you’d bought to be closer to Stark tower. Peter had nowhere to go and aside from having a spare room to offer you’d also been sort of lost in the current of the busy city with everyone you once loved in the area either dead, on the run or busy elsewhere.

While the question hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind, it had crossed yours on several occasions. He’d been staying with you for six months and the moment you realised that he was becoming one of the most important people in your life, the thought of him leaving you too weighed on your mind but at the end of the day you wanted him to feel happy. He deserved to feel happy and if going back to his reality brought him that happiness then you’d support him.

“Dunno,” he’d replied, turning to face you, chucking a handful of popcorn at you when you looked incredulous at his response, “To be honest I haven’t really thought about it, m’way too busy babysitting you anyway.” He joked, effortlessly dodging the few pieces of popcorn you attempted to throw at him.

For the last few nights, the question haunted him, but it wasn’t just the question that was bothering him. You were at the forefront of his mind as he replayed the past six months of his life which also happened to be the best six months of his life. WestView put him through hell but coming out the other side of it and meeting you felt like heaven.

He weighed up the pros and cons of returning to his native timeline. The cons: he’d have to leave you behind, he’d go back to being the loser who nobody took seriously, his talents would be downplayed and disregarded and he’d inevitably end up revisiting his lifestyle of solitude. Then there was the pros: he’d get to reunite with his pac man machine. He couldn’t manage to think up anything else.

If he stayed he’d have everything he ever wanted and needed. You’d be there and he knew you always would be, besides he couldn’t leave you knowing that you needed him. If he left who would wake you up when you had night terrors about the catastrophe that your reality was still recovering from? There would be nobody there to comfort you when you woke up from the nightmares, reliving the deaths of Natasha, Tony or Vision and the experience of being snapped out of existence? If he wasn’t there to make you laugh when you were about to cry then who would be? In his heart of hearts he knew you had a huge support system at your disposal, he’d met most of them. Even though he was well aware that Sam visited you as often as he could, that Bucky wrote you letters on a monthly basis and sometimes tagged along with Sam on his visits, that Stephen Strange appeared in your apartment whenever the urge struck him, that the literal god of thunder invited you out for beer whenever he was visiting Earth, that the little spider-kid, also named Peter, swung by your apartment at least once a week to tell you all about school and his good deeds. Despite knowing all of this and knowing all of these people loved you dearly, Peter wanted to be your main source of support, he didn’t want to be someone who came and went, who’d love you then leave you. He wanted to be with you through anything and everything and the feeling that you’d love him for a lifetime had him satisfied with the decision he was about to make.

If leaving his old life meant he could stay here, with you, and experience happiness for more than a fleeting moment then he’d simply; leave it all behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other night.” He spoke through a mouthful of curly fries. You were sitting in the food court of the mall when he decided to let you in on his desire to stay with you indefinitely.

You raised your eyebrow, “You? Putting thought into an answer? Peter, I think I’m starting to become a bad influence on you.” You told him teasingly, taking a long sip of your drink as he rolled his eyes humorously.

“You’re a terrible influence which is exactly why I’ve decided to stay here and put you on the straight and narrow.” The glee you felt at his statement was undeniable, your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards.

“You’re staying? Really staying?” Your smile was contagious, Peter’s face now painted with a wide grin as he nodded his head.

In a moment of weakness he frantically added, “Y’know only if you want me to though. If you don’t that’s completely cool.” He rushed through the words, feeling more embarrassed when the fond look on your face never faded.

“Of course I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me.” You reassured him, a gentle smile on your lips as you reached across the metal table, intertwining your fingers with his.

Peter squeezed your hand gratefully, holding it in his grasp securely and allowing his smile to return to his face, “I know. You mean a lot to me too.” It was somewhat of an understatement, he was starting to understand that you didn’t just mean a lot, but that you meant everything.

His resolution lifted a huge weight off your shoulders that you wouldn’t be losing yet another best friend. You were glad he’d be with you when everything blew over with Wanda, the two of them definitely had the potential to develop a beautiful sibling relationship and they both deserved that. Of course, Peter would never replace Pietro and having known them both it was obvious just how different the two men were, the only thing they had in common being their powers and last name. Still, he and Wanda would still be able to work on it. He didn’t hate her after WestView and you knew Wanda well enough to know that she was kind hearted and she’d be more than willing to give him a chance. When she eventually comes back to her senses, that it.

As the months went on, life with you and Peter seemed to only get better. You never stopped laughing, your nightmares died down and Peter had taken on a whole new lease of life. Yourself and Peter were the perfect example of meeting the right person at the right time, you balanced each other out and accentuated the other’s good qualities.

Peter could now say with complete confidence that he was happy and what’s more is that he was finally sure that he was making someone happy.

Up until nearly eleven months of living together your relationship had been purely platonic, save for the constant flirting but flirtation pretty much ran in yours and Peter’s blood. Peter wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’d fallen for you the second you’d peeled the security tags off his stolen sunglasses.

You, on the other hand, had been fighting with yourself because yes, you love Peter but you couldn’t have told him when there was the possibility he’d eventually leave and now so much time has passed and you’ve got such a good thing going you didn’t have it in you to ruin it.

However, all of that changed when your original Maximoff best friend came knocking on your door.

Wanda was on the run. She’d caused an amazing amount of chaos but Stephen Strange and S.W.O.R.D were hot on her trail and now she needed a place to lay low with the twins. She figured there was no place more reliable to go than to the always open arms of her best friend, who conveniently had a divinity for earth magik and could muster up a protective barrier without raising suspicions. And that’s exactly where she found herself; outside your door.

You’d been chasing Peter around the apartment when you heard the knock on the door. Peter was on the opposite end of the kitchen to you, using the bar as a shield from you. “You better get that.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You glared as you spoke, it was his own fault really. What sort of idiot jumpscares a witch while she’s mid-meditation? He’d frightened you so badly you accidentally blasted a ball of your signature green energy and ruined your favourite couch throw pillow. When you were ready to pounce on the scared speedster the knocks sounded again, more frantic this time.

With one last glare towards Peter you stomped towards the door. Your anger melted away completely when you saw her. Her hood was up and she looked completely exhausted, two small hooded little boys by her side.

“Wanda…” You breathed out, relief flooding your system at the sight of her alive. She didn’t get a chance to speak before your arms were pulling her against you tightly, hugging her as if your life depended on it. Wanda returned in your embrace, allowing herself to relax for the first time in nearly a year, she sniffled against your shoulder, holding back tears as she realised how much she’d truly missed you.

Billy and Tommy watched in confusion as their mother cried into your shoulder. They didn’t know who you were, all their mother had told them was that they were going somewhere safe.

It was the yell of one of the boys that caused you and Wanda to separate, “Uncle P!” With that you felt a familiar rush of air across your leg but instead of Peter appearing one of the kids was gone.

You shared a perplexed look with Wanda, although your confusion was for different reasons.

“Hey hell raisers!” Peter responded, catching the mini speedster who all but threw himself at him barely regaining his balance before the other child had flung himself into the hug.

“Wanda? Those two… are they...?” You started, at a loss for words Wanda cut you off quietly, her tone as disbelieving as yours.

“My children? Yes. Is that…?” You nodded your head numbly, anticipating the end of her question.

“Your fake brother? Yeah.” Quickly, you realised you and a wanted woman catching up with the door wide open wasn’t ideal and you ushered Wanda inside, shutting the door when she walked in.

“Hey.” Peter greeted her simply, as if he hadn’t been used as a meat puppet in her altered reality. It wasn’t in his nature to hold any grudges.

“Hi?” Wanda replied, her voice still twinged with confusion.

“Peter, will you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? Wanda and I have some catching up to do.” You asked him with a nervous laugh, just thankful that Wanda was too tired to argue with your suggestion.

Peter ruffled the boys’ hair and gave you a grin, “Only if you stop trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to lead Wanda into your bedroom, “You’re on probation, jerk.” You called over your shoulder.

Once you were securely in your bedroom, the door locked and sitting comfortably you fixed Wanda with an amused look, “I’d ask you what’s new but I’m not sure I even wanna know.”

Wanda gave you a sad smile while she shook her head, “No, you probably don’t. I will tell you tomorrow, I don’t want to get into it tonight. I’m so tired.” She admitted, her voice overcome with sadness.

“I’ll pump up the air mattress and you and the boys can sleep in here for however long you need. I’d offer you the spare room but that’s where Peter’s been staying and I don’t think empty food containers are the kind of decor you’d be into.” Wanda nodded, squeezing your hand gratefully.

“So his name is Peter?” She asked, curious about the man Agatha had used to trick her in WestView.

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Peter Maximoff, actually.”

Wanda’s brows came to a furrow at that, “Maximoff? So he’s a relation?”

“Yes and no. Peter is from a different reality but he’s still a Maximoff and he’s got super speed. So, and this is just my theory, while you’re not directly related he could still be your brother- if you wanted him to.” You explained, as gently as you could, not trying to push her too far but to nudge the idea in her direction.

Wanda, to your surprise, didn't seem to hate the suggestion, “What is he like?”

A genuine smile made it onto your face then, as you shot into your description of your roommate, “He’s caring, funny, a little bit of a kleptomaniac but he’s working on it. He’s understanding and moronically selfless, moronic in the sense that he doesn’t even realise he’s being selfless. Huge pain in the ass too.” Wanda had a soft smile on her face by the time you’d finished.

“You like him.” Was all she said and you let out a laugh in disbelief, standing up and opening the door.

“Go grab a shower. I’ll have Peter blow up the air mattress while I go introduce myself to my god sons.”

“I thought you’d at least wait until I actually asked you.” Wanda laughed as you walked out of the room.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. As promised you introduced yourself to Billy and Tommy as their god mother, which they seemed more than thrilled about and you assumed that excitement had to do with whatever description of you Peter had given them. Wanda and the twins were all cleaned and fed and had all but collapsed into bed, foregoing the air mattress and huddling together in your double bed instead.

“Where are you sleeping, mother Teresa?” Peter teased as he noticed your eyes drooping where you stood.

“On the couch probably. Or the air mattress.” You mumbled, cutting yourself off with a yawn.

Peter, unimpressed with your options, scoffed, “No way. Come on, you can bunk with me.”

Much like Wanda, you were too tired to argue and you let Peter pull you to his, surprisingly clean, room by the hand.

You both crawled into the bed, lying close together despite the amount of empty space on the mattress.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Your soft voice broke through the silence and Peter turned his head to look at you.

“About Wanda?” You nodded your head, watching him intently as he rolled onto his side, facing you more comfortably.

Peter shrugged lightly, “I’m feeling ok. Just glad the twins still see me as their cool uncle.” You let out a small laugh at his response.

“Wanda was asking about you. Seemed interested in getting to know the real you.” You informed him, your heartwarming as you watched a hopeful look fall across his face.

A lull settled over the room once again and Peter caught himself staring at you. His eyes drifted over every visible part of you, reminding him of most of the points on his pros list for staying in your universe; your eyes, your lashes, your nose, your lips, you.

“What’re you thinking about?” The sound of your tired voice pulled him out of his thoughts and ultimately pushed him to bite the bullet and tell you how he’s feeling. With you curled up beside him, in his bed, fighting sleep just to stay in his company for as long as you could; he knew there would be no better time.

“Just about how happy I am to be here with you.” He answered you honestly, the butterflies in both of your stomachs fluttering in sync at his words.

You trailed a hand under the duvet and onto the bedsheets between your bodies, feeling around until you found his hand and gently intertwined your fingers. “I’m happy you decided to stay.”

“What you’ve all gone through in this timeline sucks- don’t get me wrong-“ Peter started sincerely, scooting closer to you and dropping his head back down on the edge of your pillow, leaving the pair of you practically nose to nose as he went on.

“And I hate that Wanda had to go through so much… but I’m really glad that it led me to you.” Peter swore in that moment, right after the confession left his mouth, that he could die right now and be completely content knowing that you now knew how he felt.

His heart stopped, and he thought that maybe he was about to die, when you gave him the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of and whispered, “I feel the same.”

Time moved in slow motion as he felt you moving your intertwined hands towards your lips, your lips pressed gently against the back of Peter’s hand before you brought them to rest against your chest.

It was a fact to say that Peter Maximoff had never felt intimacy quite like this before. But, experiencing it now, with you, led him to wonder how he’d ever survived without it. He wasn’t sure whether it was natural to crave more, especially when the affection you were showing him was so gentle, but he didn’t care as he let the impulsive side of him take over.

Not sparing another word, Peter closed the small distance between your lips and his. His free hand cupped your jaw while yours wasted no time in getting tangled in his silver hair.

His lips moved softly and surprisingly slowly over yours and he savoured the feeling of your hand holding his while your other got lost in his hair, your body pressed up against him, the way your jaw moved against his palm as you reciprocated the movement of his lips and the taste of your lips, promising himself he’d never let the memory slip from his mind for as long as he lived.

With complete clarity, Peter could say he had felt true, genuine happiness and he had no doubt in his mind that there was absolutely nothing Charles, Hank, Scott or anyone else from his original timeline could say to make him leave this happiness behind. Because in the process of forgetting his old life, he couldn’t deny that he has undoubtedly found himself in the position of a man who had so much more to live for.

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wandavision x reader #wandavision spoilers #x men x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #mcu #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader

626 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Time After Time | dark!Neil (Tenet) x reader

summary: it’s tricky when feelings get involved in an organization like tenet. still, you’ve never been happier than you are with your boyfriend Neil, even if he’s a bit elusive and a very erratic coworker. for all his secrets, you never expected what he would tell you the day he finally proposed.

word count: 5.5k

warnings: smut!! (dub con, for extremely complex reasons), almost kinda stockholm syndrome?, yandere/soft!dark neil, breeding kink, confusing time travel stuff

"What are we doing here?” you asked as you looked around the safehouse— like any secret Tenet hideaway, it was sleek but sterile, nestled in a historic neighborhood in southeastern Moscow. It was sort of how you remembered from the last time you’d been here for work, but somebody had rearranged the living room and changed out the rug. (Knowing the nature of your business, you were pretty confident you knew why the rug was replaced.)

Neil had made it clear that you weren’t coming here for a mission, but never said what you were here for, and had kept up the veil of secrecy all week long. At first, you had assumed that since tomorrow was your four-year dating anniversary, it must have something to do with that, but the more you pondered the potential options, the more you were unsure.

You turned to look at him and found him wearing his signature smirk, the one that made you sure he was up to something— but you still didn’t know what.

“Seriously, Neil, just tell me!” you pleaded with a laugh, shoving him playfully.

“We’re here,” he explained slowly, “because I need to ask you something.”

He sank down onto one knee, clutching your hand in his, as you looked down at him with wide eyes. "Oh— oh my god,” you barely managed to stammer, entirely breathless.

“As soon as I met you, I knew you were the love of my life,” Neil began with that smile of his that always melted your heart. “I knew that I had to do everything in my power to make you as happy as you make me, to have you with me until the end of time— whenever that actually comes.”

You laughed a little, but it fell into a sob of joy as he reached into his jacket and pulled a ring out of his pocket, brandishing it to you.

“Darling, will you be my wife?” he asked, almost sounding like he was a little nervous that you’d say ‘no’, for some reason.

“Neil,” you whispered, “of course— yes, yes!”

He popped up and kissed you, smiling too hard for it to be a very effective kiss, though it was a perfect one nonetheless. You felt him slip the ring on your finger and you felt like you were floating on air. It was even more surreal than the first time you were inverted.

“I’m so glad you said yes,” he admitted with a sigh of relief against your lips. You pulled back from the kiss and looked up at him, bewildered but overjoyed.

“Were you really worried I’d say no?” you scoffed incredulously.

“Terrified,” he laughed, and you laughed too, kissing him again quickly before launching into the first of so many questions you wanted to ask.

“When did you— how did you—?”

“I got the ring last month,” he explained. “I thought about waiting longer but I was so tired of hiding it from you. Then it was just a matter of getting you here.”

“Don’t take this as me criticizing your proposal,” you giggled, “but I have to ask: why here?”

He sighed a little, smirking slightly, and looked away before catching your gaze again. “You’re gonna think I’m a bit crazy—”

“Already do, continue,” you winked.

“But this is where we first met.”

He was right; you did think he was crazy. You furrowed your brow and laughed nervously. “Neil, we met at a coffee shop, the one by my old apartment. I didn’t work here then, you recruited me yourself.”

He chuckled slightly, turning your confusion into an eerie sense of nervousness. “Sometimes you amaze me with your naivete, darling. This is where we first met, the first time.”

Gingerly, you pulled your hands away from his.

“I didn’t recruit you, originally. I was here, working, when a close friend of mine came in and introduced me to the newest member of the team. It was you… and you captured my heart, instantly. Only problem was…" he trailed off, chewing his lip as he glanced away.

“Tell me, Neil,” you demanded quietly.

“You’d captured someone else’s heart, too. And he had already married you.”

You stood up instantly, walking away a little before turning back to stare at him in bewilderment. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing; you could hardly stand on your wobbly legs anymore. “I… I had a husband?”

“Yeah, met him once; seemed like a nice guy,” he shrugged. “But he wasn’t right for you.”

“And how’s that?”

“Because he wasn’t me.”

You shook your head, terrified to imagine the ways Neil had tampered with the flow of time for something as trivial as an infatuation with you.

“I tried to hide my feelings for you, darling, really; we were just coworkers for a long time, I kept it strictly professional. But the more I got to know you, the more I grew to love you. I knew I couldn’t be happy just being your friend— you’re my everything. I tried to tell you— but you wouldn’t listen,” he shook his head. “You told me you loved your husband. You told me you had just found out you were pregnant.”

His words hit you like a train and you stumbled back slightly, bracing yourself against a credenza to try to keep from falling to the floor.

“I realized I had to go back,” he continued, becoming a bit more passionate as he explained his plan. “You couldn’t be convinced if you were pregnant with his child. But if I was going to invert myself to try to confess my love for you sooner, I figured it would be easiest if I took it a step further and avoided the whole marriage itself. You had told me once about the day you met him. So, I went and found you in that coffeeshop, the day before. And I recruited you to Tenet. Truth was, we could’ve used you a lot sooner, so it was advantageous to the organization as well— which is why I got approved to be inverted by the boss himself.”

That hurt. He was Neil’s friend, but he was your friend, too. Had he known that when Neil went back to recruit you, he would irreparably alter the course of your life? Or had he only realized later and decided not to try to correct it?

“Don’t look so heartbroken, darling,” he pouted, stepping forward and reaching out to gently rub your shoulder. “We’re finally together. Things are finally the way they should’ve been from the very beginning.”

You pushed his hand away and averted your gaze, unable to look at him anymore. "I'm sorry, Neil, I can't do this— I can't live a lie," you shook your head, beginning to step away.

“No, you can’t go,” he breathed, desperation apparent in his tone along with his expression. “You can’t go! I finally got it right this time!”

“Is that why you were afraid I’d say no?” you realized with wide, watery eyes. “Because I said it before?”

“Yes,” he admitted, faster than you expected. “But—”

“How many times?”

There came the silence, his nostrils flaring as he crossed his arms and looked away.

“How many times did I reject your proposal, Neil?”

“...Fourteen.”

“Oh my god,” you sobbed, “Neil, you— you never gave me a choice, did you? From the beginning? Every time I tried to get away from you—”

“You always knew you belonged with me,” he posited fiercely. “You always knew, it was why you kissed me that night, a year from now, on the bridge in Oslo.”

“That wasn’t me!” you cried. “I was never married, Neil, I was never pregnant, I never kissed you on any godforsaken bridge! You undid it all, and now you’re holding what I never did against me?”

“Even then you knew we were meant to be together,” he explained, stepping a little closer; out of love for the man you thought he was, you had a moment of sympathy for the man he had become, and let him pull you closer and cradle your face in his hands. He wiped a stray tear from your cheek as he smiled down at you.

It almost felt right for a moment, but you couldn’t trick yourself into believing this was anything but wrong. "I'm sorry, god, I'm so sorry," you whispered hoarsely as you turned to walk away— but he chased you and spun you back around, overpowering you as you tried to wriggle from his grasp.

“After everything I did for you,” he growled, grabbing your wrists tightly when you tried to get away, “you can’t just walk away from me.”

“You didn’t do any of this for me, Neil,” you spat as you struggled, “you did this for yourself. You stole my life!”

“I saw your life, it was shit without me, okay?”

"But at least it was mine!"

He grabbed you by the shoulders and pinned you to the wall, making you yelp as he glared at you, eyes wild and teeth bared. “I’ll just go back and do it again. I’ll do it a million times until you stay with me forever, I swear. So what’s the use in fighting me? You’ll say yes, eventually. Why don’t you save us both some time— in a sense— and just accept it now?”

This was a side of Neil you hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t livid, he wasn’t violent (at least, not to the level you knew he could be), but he was undoubtedly threatening you… and you knew that he was right. More than ever you were sure that he was going to keep doing this, keep taking you through the same loop until he got the outcome he wanted. It was horrifying to imagine, but at least this way you could know the truth. Maybe you could even find a way to escape him someday— you couldn’t even imagine how, but you might come up with something later. You had all the time in the world, after all.

He softened slightly as he must have realized you were considering it, reaching down to pull your hands into his. You glanced over at the sparkling diamond on your ring finger, remembering how ecstatic you had been to wear it just a few minutes ago. Now it was a tiny gold shackle, each glimmer of the stone like a silent taunt.

Devastated, but with nowhere else to turn, you began to sob and allowed him to embrace you and pull you into him. He held you close as you cried into his shoulder, terrified and confused and seeking comfort even if it was from the man who had imprisoned you in time.

“Shh,” he soothed gently, “it’s going to be alright, darling, take some deep breaths for me. Can you do that? In—” he inflated his chest, guiding you to breathe with him, which you did to the best of your ability—” and out…”

Smooth breaths were difficult with sobs vibrating your lungs, but you eventually managed to stabilize yourself as he guided you through a few more. You resented that he knew you so well to be able to calm you down; you resented that your body trusted him enough for it to actually work.

“That’s it,” he praised softly, “you’re okay, it’s okay…”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, contemplating the way your face looked through the lacy white veil. Silently, you wondered if this was how you looked at your first wedding; the one that never really happened, to the man you never got the chance to meet. You liked to imagine that you looked happier than this, that your eyes were filled with excitement rather than resignation.

A knock at the door didn’t even tear you from your trance, nor did the sound of it opening; only Neil’s reflection appearing beside yours in the mirror made you snap back into reality, if only slightly.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your ear.

“Bad luck…” you mumbled. “It’s bad luck,” you began again, “for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

“I think we’ve had enough bad luck for a lifetime already,” he joked, making you furrow your brow and turn around, looking up at him.

He bore a startling resemblance to the man you’d fallen in love with, to the man you’d been ecstatic to marry when he got down on one knee for you in a nearly-abandoned safehouse in Moscow. Even the way he smiled at you, his gaze so gentle as it scanned your face, was exactly the way he’d looked at you a thousand times— when you first met, as well. The first time for you, at least. He’d known you for years then; it was no wonder that he looked at you with such love, struck up a conversation that perfectly targeted your interests. He must’ve spent years practicing to be your perfect man, until he finally got tired of the lie and trapped you in his twisted idea of the truth.

It made you question his motives for appearing suddenly and spoiling the surprise of you in your wedding gown— a sight he must have been dreaming of for years.

“Did I leave you at the altar?” you asked, below your breath. “Is that why you’re here? You came back to stop me?”

He chuckled lightly and brushed his fingers over your face. “I don’t know yet. This is the first time.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “How can I trust you? How can I know you haven’t said that every time?”

He didn’t answer, instead leaning in to kiss you gently. You closed your eyes, accepting that you could never really know the truth anymore. Maybe someday you would become comfortable with unknowing, or at least complacent enough to tolerate it.

Walking down the aisle felt sort of like walking toward the gallows, but instead of death waiting for you at the end, there was a life of futility, an existence guided not by destiny or decision but by derangement: one man’s fight, against God and nature, to keep you to himself and steal you from the life you were once meant for.

You managed to keep your footsteps steady, glancing briefly to the pews scattered with parse friends and family— wasn’t much time for either of those with the kind of work you did. All the time in the world, but not enough time for a real life. That was why it had been so easy to fall for Neil, since he was one of a few people you spent significant time with. Had that always been the nature of the job? Or an orchestration by Neil himself, separating you from others until you couldn’t choose anyone but him?

Thankfully, you managed to get through the wedding without crying more than was appropriate or screaming at him or trying to run away. You exchanged the vows and the rings, you kissed each other, the whole shebang. Occasionally you actually managed to enjoy yourself, in those moments that you forgot this was all a hollow facade, greeting guests and listening to toasts and dancing with Neil— your new husband.

You forced yourself to keep up the image of a happy bride for the sake of your friends, and everyone who came here in expectation of a fun wedding. It was what they deserved, even if it was costing you everything.

But once they were gone, you didn’t know how to play the part anymore. You didn’t know how to swallow down the sick rising in your throat as Neil led you to the honeymoon suite, how to smile back at him when he looked at you with so much joy.

You didn’t know how to prepare yourself for what you knew he expected.

“I… should change out of this dress,” you realized once you were alone in the hotel room together, and he nodded his approval. You knew if you looked at yourself in the mirror, you would cry, so instead you focused on getting out of your uncomfortable gown. The lacy white lingerie underneath was intimidating, not for what it was but for what it symbolized. You couldn’t go back out there like this, obviously— so you grabbed one of the puffy white robes, the hotel’s logo stitched onto the breast pocket, and you threw it on as you stormed out of the bathroom and directly to the balcony.

Tears threatened to burn your eyes as you looked out over the London skyline. It was stunning, and it made you appreciate that you should be thankful for the freedoms you did have. There was a big, beautiful world out there and you had the means and the motive to explore it all, if you wanted— you’d already seen more than most.

But you still mourned for the life you never lived. Some would argue that in an infinite number of alternate universes, you had the choice to leave him if you wanted to; and apparently, from what Neil had implied, you usually took it. Yet, that was useless to you now. The irony was not lost on you that you would be so spoiled as to hate your life when you were standing on the balcony of a luxurious hotel, in a gown that cost more than your first degree, with a gorgeous new husband and more money than either of you would ever have any use for. You knew you were being petulant. But something deeper longed for freedom, with everything it cost. Does it matter how decadent a cage is, if you are still trapped in it?

The balcony door opened behind you, and you defiantly sniffled, quickly wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

“Darling?” Neil gently called to you. “Is everything alright?”

You didn’t answer, fearing the waver in your voice would give you away.

“I know it’s all a little… overwhelming,” he relented, his voice coming closer along with his footsteps. “But you really have nothing to worry about. I think you’ll rather like it.”

“Like what?”

He paused for a bit before he replied. And when he did, he said it like it was obvious: “Being my wife.”

You turned to face him, expecting rage in your voice but hearing only sadness. “And if I don’t? You’ll just… go back, and do it again until I do?”

He sighed a little, seeming hurt by the question. “Please, darling, it’s our wedding night,” he cooed, “you can’t hate me. Let me remind you how good we are together…”

His touch was distantly familiar, and against your better judgement you relaxed a bit and let him pull you closer, his cheek brushing against yours as he spoke beside your ear.

“I never inverted for this,” he explained with a whisper, fingertips grazing over your arm. “I didn’t learn your kinks, memorize your body and then go back to impress you from the beginning. The first time we were together… it was the first time for both of us. And it was perfect. Do you remember?”

You nodded.

“Tell me,” he instructed, lifting your chin to tenderly kiss your neck.

“Paris,” you sighed. “We were posing as lovers to check in to a hotel without arousing suspicion. I’d been enamored with you since I first met you and I thought maybe you felt the same way, but I told you we couldn’t be together because of Tenet…”

“But I kissed you anyway,” he reminded you.

“And I didn’t care about Tenet anymore,” you remembered. “I just needed to feel you. And we made love for hours— nearly missed our signal to get out of the building.”

He chuckled lightly against your skin, his fingers leaving goosebumps where they travelled across your back. “It was worth it,” he decided. “It was beautiful.”

You pulled back and looked up at him, finding so much love in his eyes, and you searched desperately within yourself for a way to love him in return again after what he’d done.

Swallowing, you slid your fingers into his hair and examined his face one more time, illuminated in the faintly bluish glow of the city lights.

“Go back,” you whispered.

“What?”

“I need you to go back,” you repeated. “To the day you proposed. Don’t tell me the truth this time.”

Realization dawned on his face, somber but calm.

“I’ll be yours, Neil,” you promised, “forever, like you wanted. But I can’t live like this. I can’t live knowing what you’ve done. And I can’t live with myself if I know that I gave in to you.”

“I hate to leave you on our wedding night,” he argued, turning away slightly— but you held his face and pulled him back to look at you.

“Do this for me,” you pleaded. “Consider it a wedding present.”

He gave you a small, sad smile before he embraced you again. "Anything for you," he whispered as he kissed you on the top of your head.

Neil all but kicked the door down as he carried you in his arms, unable to break the kiss even for a moment to open the door properly.

He stumbled around the room a bit before he finally tossed you onto the bed, eliciting a girlish squeal as the puffy layers of your wedding gown's elaborate skirt flipped up over your head. Growling playfully as he climbed atop you and slotted himself between your legs, you pushed your dress out of the way to look up at him.

As your laughter died down and you examined his face, you were compelled to reach up and hold his jaw in your hand; he turned his face slightly to kiss your palm as you caressed his cheek.

"I love you," you sighed as you brushed a stray strand of hair back out of his face.

"I love you too," he smiled, "more than you could ever know."

You rolled your eyes. "There goes my husband with his crypticness again."

He hummed at the title, kissing you again. You figured you were lucky he didn’t rip the dress as he got you out of it, growling when he saw your lacy white lingerie underneath. “You really are too good to me, darling,” he purred, leaning down to capture a nipple between his teeth through the fabric until your back arched. “All wrapped up for me like a pretty little present…”

You whined when he slipped his fingers down between your legs, toying with you and refusing to just pull the panties aside and get on with it. Of course he had to draw it out, savor every inch of you, but did he have to drive you so crazy along the way?

"Neil, please," you whimpered, "need you…"

"I know," he soothed between heavy breaths, kissing down your chest and stomach until he reached where you'd nearly soaked through your flimsy lace. He kissed your swollen clit right through the fabric— damn him that just that little touch made you moan and grab his hair. He loved seeing the effect he had on you, it was clear by the way he grinned and did it again, a little firmer, relishing in the way you squirmed.

Finally, he pulled your panties aside; although of course he did it tantalizingly slow before sliding his tongue through your folds, moaning lowly when you accidentally pulled his hair a bit.

He looked so damn good with his face between your thighs, staring up at you and holding you in place with his petrifying gaze. His eyes were always uncharacteristically dark when he did this to you, like he'd been waiting all his life for this moment. Like the taste of you drove him wild.

You shuddered when he pushed his tongue inside you, instantly putting pressure against the most delicate places inside you. When the pleasure threatened to become too intense and you instinctively tried to squirm away, his strong hands gripped your thighs and held you down nearly effortlessly, likely leaving marks on your skin for you to notice tomorrow, to remind you that you were his. As if the ring wasn’t enough.

“Fuck,” you groaned, “please— please let me come.”

You didn’t always ask him for permission, but he always gave it when you did. So you weren’t expecting him to grin and stop his task to suck a hickey onto your thigh. “Not quite yet,” he purred. “I need you to ask really, really nicely…”

“Um,” you stalled, distracted by watching him leave a trail of marks along your skin with his teeth, “please… don’t stop, Neil, please let me come… I’ll do anything, you know I will.”

“That’s already true,” he reminded you, snarling as he gave your pussy a sudden spank; you yelped and jolted from the impact, but it ended with a moan and more wetness gathering at your hole. “You can’t be so obedient all the time and try to use it as a bargaining tool, darling. You know better than that. Offer me something I don’t have.”

“If you let me come,” you pondered your potential options as you bit your lip and rocked your hips up in hopes of friction, “I’ll… make dinner, every night, for a week—”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“A month!” you blurted out instead.

“You’re negotiating against yourself,” he chuckled, slapping you right on your clit and making you cry out. “And you’re not much of a cook.”

You were teetering on the edge, desperate for any leverage you could grapple onto, keening for just a touch more stimulation to bring you the rest of the way— and you were so fucking close. You could only think of one thing Neil wanted, that he didn’t have, that you could give. And it was a stupid idea, but you needed to offer him something fast before those dreaded spanks between your thighs made you come before he’d given permission.

“We can fuck on a mission,” you announced through your teeth. Finally, you felt like you had his attention. The only time that had ever happened was the one time you let it happen— the first time. The next day you’d had a long conversation about how you weren’t going to let feelings interfere with the job; he agreed, and since then the two of you had done a pretty good job of separating business and pleasure. Although he did occasionally get irritated with your work in the field and take it out on you that night in bed, but that doesn’t count, right?

“Really?” he mused. “Whatever happened to boundaries? What happened to ‘respecting the other team members’?”

“They don’t need to know,” you explained. “Please, Neil, I really really need to cum.”

He pressed a thumb to your clit and drew slow, relaxed circles— just slow and relaxed enough to make sure you couldn’t come from it. You sobbed and let your head fall back, exhausted of his teasing. “How can you be sure you’ll be discreet enough? You’re not exactly… subtle,” he smirked, your moans now exactly proving his point.

“Can’t be loud with my mouth full,” you countered, and his smile finally fell. You finally had a bit of power back.

“You’d really suck me off on a mission?”

“If you can promise to keep quiet,” you chuckled.

He growled a bit as he dove back in, the sudden pleasure forcing a deep moan from your lips. “Fuck,” he mumbled against you, “so dirty for me, huh?”

“Yeah,” you agreed as you bit down on your lip. “God, I’m close, just don’t stop…”

“As long as you keep up your end of the deal,” he smirked, and you nearly forced his head back down between your legs but thankfully, he kept his mouth shut after that— well not quite shut, just busy, and before you knew it the pressure that built in your gut finally flowed over and you sobbed his name at the peak of your orgasm.

He kept going for just a moment too long, sending white hot shocks up your spine from the overstimulation, but thankfully he slowed down and pulled back, licking his lips and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

With that out of the way, and you nearly melted into the bed at this point, he sat up and hastily opened his belt and fly while he gazed down upon you with a burning hot stare.

"I should return the favor," you offered, sitting up slightly and reaching to wrap your hand around his length, but he shook his head.

"I’ll get my chance, but right now I just need to be inside you,” he explained gruffly. “Can’t spend another moment without being buried in this gorgeous cunt of yours; I might die if I can’t have you now.”

"Well, if it's a matter of life and death," you grinned, poorly faking indifference as he shoved you back and caged you in, guiding his cock to your dripping wet entrance.

“Ready, darling?” he prompted quietly as you felt the head of him prodding at you. You nodded, and yet you still gasped and clutched his forearms when he pushed into you. It was like the first time every time, with the way his thick length speared into you and stretched you open, but you craved it regardless; by now it wasn’t even pain, just raw sensation that pushed your limits in all the right ways. He sighed a bit when his hips met yours, already pulling back and setting the pace of his thrusts.

Even with how wet you were, there was friction just from the size of him, but it was the right kind of friction— a smooth, slow drag against your walls that compelled you to wrap your legs around his hips and hold him deep inside you.

“Is that how you want it?” he interrogated. “Deep?” You nodded and he chuckled a little. “I can do that.”

He stopped moving only for a moment to grab your legs and push them up, such that when he thrusted again, the tip of his cock hit the furthest places inside you and you choked on your own moan. "Fuck!" you croaked, eyes shooting open and hands reaching out to clutch his shoulders.

"How deep am I inside you?" he asked coyly, well aware of the answer already.

"So deep,” you slurred, barely able to form words with a heavy tongue and empty lungs, “all the way…"

"Good." He leaned down and growled against your ear. "I hope I knock you up tonight."

His words shocked you, in the best possible way. You surprised even yourself with the way your body reacted, and your hands were almost moving of their own accord as they grabbed his face and pulled him into a deep, needy kiss.

“Neil,” you mumbled as you broke it just enough to look up at him, “put a baby in me.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, thrusting into you faster than ever, “I will, darling…”

He was unstoppably filthy after that, relentlessly pounding into you, claiming your entire body as he whispered unimaginably dirty things in your ear.

"I know you want it so badly, darling, I know you need to be filled with my seed… can't wait to see you all round and glowing with my baby in you."

You didn't understand his emphasis on the word "my,” as if it could ever be anyone else's! But you didn't really notice that very much, too busy crying out at the feeling of him stretching you out and reaching the deepest places inside of you. “Neil, please— I’m so close, want you to come with me,” you whimpered.

“Yeah? Wanna squeeze my cock with this pretty little cunt while I fill you up, darling?”

“Please,” you sobbed, and you were sure you’d never needed him this bad; never needed anything this bad.

Deep little growls coming from between his teeth signified that he was close, and you felt your body tightening around him as you reached your peak one more time, much more intense than before and so much louder than you meant for it to be. He finally spilled inside of you, painting your walls with his spend as you whimpered and began to descend from your high. His body relaxed atop yours, though his arms wrapped around you to hold you close. After a few moments of that, he fell onto his back and you laid your head on his chest, humming happily at the feeling of his warmth seeping out of you. You were confident you’d be sore all over tomorrow, but you couldn’t feel it now as the afterglow served as a painkiller, keeping you numb and happy while you cuddled into him.

His arm around your shoulders pulled you closer so he could kiss your forehead. You looked up at him, admiring the way he looked horribly disheveled and yet entirely perfect; he looked back at you, smiling softly.

"Can't believe you're finally mine," he sighed wistfully, "forever."

#tenet fanfic #neil tenet x reader #dark!neil tenet x reader #neil tenet dark fic #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson dark fic

457 notes · View notes

embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L Content: swearing, angst, no proofreading, filler? A/N: i hope your week has been great so far xx

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | ao3 】

Chapter 35 ✷ Picture’s Up

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

James couldn't recall a time where he felt so drained.

He didn’t even think there was a word to encapsulate just how drained he really felt. Every day, there was a wariness that sunk and immersed itself so deeply within his bones that made it feel like he could hardly breathe.

Day by day, it felt like a part of his sanity was cracking.

Enervated, drowsy, exhausted, knackered, dead on his own two feet… he could go on.

Prefect duties were as dreadful as Remus had said they were and James regretted every time he ever made fun of him for it. It was miserable and karma never hit him harder. Monitoring detentions and rounds were tedious, the tests he had to grade were mind-numbingly boring; all forcing him to lose the little sleep he had.

And then there were the loads of Quidditch practices that once were fun, a way for him to exert his remarkable supply of energy, only became a bit of a nuisance with the overwhelming activities he was forced to juggle.

Working around Moony’s moon cycle...

And then there was the fucking Black family.

The mere mention of their names sent James into a spiral. He’d rather submerge himself into the Black lake and let the giant squid ink all over him than deal with them. But there he was.

He debated for a while, whether or not to tell Black about Regulus but refrained. He was far too stubborn to listen and could make matters worse.

James sighed, leaning into the couch in the common room, running his fingers through his hair.

“Potter.” The ring of Lily’s voice sounded through his ears. James turned around to look at her, feeling his heart accelerate.

“Evans,” he greeted.

“We have rounds in a bit. Don’t be late.”

James simply nodded, not having enough energy to put on a front.

And of course Lily noticed. She noticed his frazzled appearance and lack of energy. There was hardly any banter between them and Lily would’ve thought it was a miracle that his annoying self had vanished, replaced with timorous energy. But if anything, it was disquieting.

She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing out, “Hey, you alright?”

He gave a little audible sound in response. “Yeah. I’ll be there. I just need to make a few arrangements quickly. Meet you by the... Prefects’ bathroom?”

Lily considered him.

“... See you.”

James made his way out of the common room, slipping out the Marauder’s Map. He’d been tracking Regulus’ movements for the past few days now and the only person he went to was Y/N for any substantial amount of time.

He truly had no one else and it ruled out any potential bullying.

Walburga and Orion… Their treatment towards him shocked James. Golden boy Regulus, who would’ve thought?

But even with the Marauder’s Map, it was impossible to keep track of him. He never stayed in one spot long enough to catch, aside from the dungeons and Slytherin common room.

Everything regarding Regulus’ situation forced James to think strenuously. If he were to accidentally say too much of what Whiskers had told him, not only would Regulus close himself off to him, but to her too, leaving them with no clue of his well-being.

And it forced him to worry about Whiskers. She didn’t know what she's getting herself into… What if Walburga and Orion caught word of their friendship?

James shuddered, pushing away the thought. He didn’t want to think about what would happen to either of them.

He continued to watch Regulus’ name travel across the map before ascertaining he was close. He tapped on the map, muttering out ‘Mischief managed’ whilst bolting down the hallways. Each twist and turn exhilarated a nervous adrenaline thumping through his veins as he rehearsed a little speech inside his head.

Before Regulus had time to process what was happening, James had already yanked him back, disappearing into one of the secret passageways.

“What the — Potter?!” He squawked. Pushing him away, James saw the pure panic washed over his features through the shadows.

“I know we don’t have much time,” James rushed, “But hear me out.”

He made no attempt to move but looked around for other students.

“You’ll always have a home with me,” James said easily as if it was the most obvious answer. “With Bla — Sirius — living with me, you’re more than welcome to as well. I understand your situation and —”

“No,” Regulus leered, “I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” James challenged before easing up. “My family and I are more than willing to protect you, like how we’ve been doing for Sirius.”

And then it stayed silent for a while and he finally let himself take in his appearance.

“Regulus, what happened to you?”

Regulus’ head hung. “All I wanted was to have long hair.”

And then it clicked for James, but he was running out of things to say that were convincing and felt a familiar panic return.

“You miss him, right?” He tried. “I know he misses you. If maybe —”

But when Regulus’ mood suddenly changed, James knew instantly that he had miscalculated.

“Miss me?” Regulus laughed bitterly. “He doesn’t miss me and he has never considered me his brother. You, Lupin, Pettigrew — you’re his brothers.”

He could see the misty tears welding up in Regulus’ eyes and didn’t make a move to stop him when he stormed out from the passageway.

Once Regulus was free from James, he sprinted, blinking multiple times to prevent tears from seeping out. An ache burned inside his chest as he found himself diving into his bed, pulling the curtains shut.

Those unforgettable questions that plagued his mind for a year now played heavily in his mind, like his own personal film.

What made someone good or bad? What did he believe in? Was he strong enough to break from his mould or did he want to? And most importantly, what was he willing to do?

Blood purity…

Regulus closed his eyes. He wished life was a dress rehearsal and there were times to make mistakes and have do-overs without permanent repercussions. To get time to practice and refine life until he explored every avenue. Unfortunately, life had no room for anything but the final performance. Every stumble, every mishap or memory slip was presented to a live audience day by day.

Reopening his eyes, he had his answer.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

A few weeks went by and September was coming to a close. October came with beautiful colours and a chilly breeze.

It felt like every day, Y/N added another reason to be disgruntled and hateful onto her list. It had been a month since she’d last seen her mother and she refrained from sending any letters; waiting patiently to see if she would make the first move.

Nothing.

It was safe to say that it put her into a bad mood that morning.

The walk to Defence Against the Dark Arts with Lily was a quiet one and slightly uncomfortable. However, the uncomfortable bit was more on Lily’s end rather than Y/N who was too wrapped in her anger-induced thoughts.

These days, their lessons were almost exclusively in the Duelling room, filled with practical lessons. Especially today, she was beyond thankful for; eager to have an outlet.

But Professor Elway was unusually keen on inviting her to the Duelling sessions. She was almost as difficult as dodging Slughorn’s Slugclub invites. Luckily, Y/N liked Elway and duelling was electrifying. Even potion making, no matter how much she enjoyed it, was lengthy and mundane.

Mentioning their professor, she wasn’t there that morning when they arrived outside the Duelling room. The students lounged outside the door, taking out their books and wand while they waited.

Remus found himself drifting to her as they quietly chatted away.

“Like your sweater,” she said. In the background, she could hear Marlene and James yelling, “It’s a jumper!”

Remus smiled. “This old thing?” Pointing to the sweater that she knitted. They both giggled a bit; Remus leaned slightly against her, eyes lingering a beat.

“Sorry, I’m late!” Elway called out to them in a dreamy voice. “Everyone, follow me!”

Puzzled, the class looked at each other as they followed their professor away from the dungeons. While they walked, rude and unbearable, Peeves the Poltergeist floated upside down. Once he spotted Remus, he immediately drifted up to him, opening his mouth, no doubt about to hurl all sorts of names or songs at him.

Remus hardly looked at him, already taking out his wand and said lazily, “Waddiwasi!” at Peeves.

A wad of gum shot out from nowhere and landed directly on Peeves before he whirled back from Remus, spewing curses at him.

“Nice one! Ought to teach me that later!” “Almost feel bad for the bloke!” Both James and Peter said at the same time.

Elway had led them outside to a desolate area, free from a canopy of branches and leaves.

“Now, my pupils!” She sang. “You might be wondering, ‘what are we doing out here?’ Lucky for you, we’re going to be practicing a few spells and learning how to fight using other means during duels.”

Like most of the class, Emmeline was skeptical as she raised her hand. “I thought we weren’t supposed to use physical means during duels?”

“Precisely,” said Elway, walking back and forth in front of the class. “Couldn't have said it better myself. But you know who won’t give a damn?”

There was a long pause for effect.

“Your enemies.” She clapped her hands together. “Now, can anyone give us some ideas? How about… Miss L/N?”

Blinking a few times, she hesitated, not expecting to be called on. “Er — you can… take them from the legs?”

“Wonderful idea! I’m thrilled you said that! Does anyone else want to add on?”

Remus raised his hand, answering politely. “Using your arms — stretching them.”

Professor Elway nodded away happily. “Wonderful answer! Take five points! Like Remus said, stretching your arms out or boarding your shoulders, spacing out your legs can widen your defence range! Why don’t we try?”

She called Remus up first and Y/N could tell he was slightly nervous. He doubled down, making himself seem smaller by hunching over and made sure not to accidentally hurt their professor.

A couple of Hufflepuffs, Slytherins and then James, Marlene and Lily all tried; mimicking Elway as she let them knock her over.

“Most importantly,” Elway said, dusting off her robes free from leaves and dirt. She panted a bit, tired from being knocked down multiple times. “Never let the enemy strike first. You all did fantastically!

“Obviously, in any professional setting, you’ll be disqualified if you ever tried to physically attack your opponent. But you can still play dirty in a duel!

“The charm Obscuro has been helpful on several occasions. It blindfolds your opponent. Please repeat after me: Ob-SKOO-roh!”

“Obscuro!”

“Excellent!” Elway gave a little applause, filled with glee. “Another spell that I love is the Confundus charm. Y/N! May you please explain to us the purpose of the Confundus charm?”

“She’s calling on you an awful lot,” Lily muttered.

She nodded a bit. “It confuses your oppent. The varying degree depends on how much magic is put into the initial casting.”

“Perfect! Five points to Gryffindor. If you will tell me about Incendio.”

As she spoke, there was almost a switch that went off in Elway that made her incessantly happy that almost unnerved her.

“Beautiful! Now if you may, help demonstrate the spell?”

“I don’t want to hurt —”

“Trust me, you won’t.”

Then, Y/N felt a deep lurch of fear as everyone retreated against the trees, giving her a clear view of Professor Elway opposed to her, waiting to block her spell.

She took a deep breath in, pushing up the sleeves of her robes, she held her wand.

Professor Elway had a protective spell around her. “One, two, three — now!”

“Incendio!” Only meek sparks shot out of her wand. A few students snickered while her friends were seen trying to drown them out by clapping.

“That was amazing!” Peter called out.

“I wouldn’t be able to do that on the first go!” Marlene shouted.

“That was good! Try again! One, two, three — go!”

“Incendio!” Nothing noteworthy happened. It was embarrassing.

“It’s alright, try again!” Elway said, not letting her go yet. “Think about something that’s motivating!”

Y/N closed her eyes, inhaling deeply and pondered. What was motivating to her? Surely, the want to continue with magic after school was motivating. Or perhaps proving someone wrong?

Proving someone wrong…

She had a lot to prove to her mother.

Instead of her being motivated, a flicker of annoyance and anger flooded her instead. Sensing the change, Elway beamed, her wand held high.

“One —”

Her mother always prioritized everyone and everything above her —

“Two —”

Was never there when it mattered —

“Three —”

There was never much affection. The constant want to please, the low self-esteem made her feel worthless, unloveable, always wanting to run when she got too close — she caused it —

“Now!”

“Incendio!” She bellowed.

A loud crack rippled through the air and caused her to stumble back. A large blast of orange and red flames shot out from her wand. Scorching heat flooded out, causing all the students to jump back as Elway shot waves of water, extinguishing the flames at once. As angry as she had been, glee and pure enjoyment replaced that quickly.

Once the bell rang, the students gathered up their belongings, leaving for their next class. But Elway took a moment, calling out her name, asking that she stay back for a few moments.

James and Lily staggered behind, offering to wait as they talked quietly under one of the willow trees.

They were so civil these days…

“I would’ve offered you a cup of tea,” Elway spoke as she approached her. Her foot tapped against the ground, her eyes far-away, thinking thoughtfully with a sly smirk. “Has anyone told you that you would make for an excellent, excellent duellist?”

Her eyebrows raised and shook her head.

That only prompted her teacher to smirk, in a satisfied sort of way. “You’re exceptionally strong for someone with no experience.”

There was a smug tone to Elway’s voice and she couldn’t quite place what she was getting at.

“Did you know that any professional duellist would kill for your wand? Or even the slight edge you have against them with your talent?”

“Erm… no?” Y/N said. She wondered if Elway needed glasses because surely, she wasn’t referring to herself. “Professor… are you sure you’re talking to the right student?”

She laughed so hard that she had to clutch her stomach tightly. She ignored her question. “My dear, do you have any ideas of what you want to be when you’re older?”

“Not really.”

“I have a proposition for you,” she beamed, flicking her long blonde, almost silver hair out of the way. “Let me take you under my wing, make you into a proper duellist.”

Y/N blinked. She didn’t know what to say and stood there with her mouth gaped.

“Yes, you heard that correctly.” Professor Elway teased. “I’d love to mentor you.”

She sputtered, positively confused and flustered. “I’m not at the top of the class, I struggle with Charms, I’ve never had a huge interest in it — I don’t know the first thing about duelling!”

“That’s what I’m here for, no? And your skill is exceptional and I know a duellist when I see one. You’ve shown the last few lessons that you’re capable of casting very strong spells.

“And do you know what separates a duellist from the masses? Energy, emotions and power. What changed when I told you to think about something motivating? A powerful Duellist may only be out of sheer power and brunt force, but a well-rounded Duellist listens to every part of their body. Their wand, their heart, the emotions that cause them to fight.”

“But —”

Elway flicked her wrist, mildly interested in her excuses. “Anyway, off to your next lesson. Take some time to think about it,” she smiled, clearly not going to take no for an answer. “I’ll be waiting for when you finally agree.”

Both Lily and James took her arms, hooking it with theirs and walked to Potions. They were staring at her, lost for words at Professor Elway’s proposition.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

“Yes, Pettigrew.” McGonagall scolded rather harshly. “The essay is due on Monday.”

Peter averted his gaze, grumbling out a thank you before exiting her office. “Dunno why she’s so strict with me.”

“She wants the best for you,” James tried to encourage as they all headed back to their common room.

Y/N couldn’t care less as she thought about later that night. No matter how hard she tried, Slughorn wouldn’t take no for an answer and she was almost forced to make an appearance at the Slugclub.

Lily was so excited, running through their dorm as she got ready.

Marlene sulked a bit, folding her arms across her chest. She was quiet enough for Lily not to hear, but Y/N heard her clear as day. “That’s not fair. I want to be invited. I want to feel special too.”

“You’re more than special,” Dorcas cut in, rubbing a hand up and down her shoulder. “You’re a star, baby.”

Y/N ignored them, fiddling with a small tube of eyeliner, watching Lily excitedly going through her closest.

Luckily, not only would Lily be there, but Remus, most likely Regulus — however, she doubted they would be able to interact — and funnily enough, James was invited too.

Inside the actual party was decent, a lot better than she expected. There were still the uptight students who thought they were above others, or the Purebloods that judged her when she walked into the room, but it was bearable.

Y/N chuckled as she watched Remus throwback drink after drink, sneakily stealing a few alcoholic beverages meant for the adults. His movements were so discreet that nobody ever suspected him.

She covered her smile behind her glass.

“Hi. It’s been awhile.”

Y/N turned around, and there, Aldrich McLaggen stood wearing a little smile. He trimmed his blond hair to sweep nicely and his cheekbones hallowed out.

“It has. And congratulations, I heard you’re on the Quidditch team.”

“Yes! Chaser - taking over Bell’s position.”

“So… How are you?”

If it was even possible, Aldrich’s smile grew wide. “I’ll be a lot better if I saw your smile tonight?”

She didn’t smile; unimpressed and decided to sip on her drink.

“Yeah,” Aldrich began again, “Didn’t think that would work.”

“A pretty big miss.” She grumbled.

“But I’m getting to know how to impress you in the future.”

Y/N turned to side-eye him. “Hmm? How?”

“How about -” And out of nowhere, he reached behind her ear and pulled out a red rose, handing it to her. Much like a Muggle magician.

She felt a coy smile tug at her lips and forced it down, but failed. “Nice one.”

“Everyone! Please come down and sit!” Slughorn announced, calling to all the students.

He beamed, flashing his teeth. “Don’t hide away again. I’d love to see you again.”

She tilted her head at him, tilting her glass before making her way to find her spot at the table.

The girl beside her had frizzy light brown hair and large glasses that looked like they were from an animated children’s television program. She was draped in a colourful shawl.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.”

But the other young witch smiled brightly, although never quite meeting her eyes as she outstretched her hand. “Sybill Trelawney.”

She shook Sybill’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

But then Y/N took a good look at her and realized, “We’re in the same charms class, right?”

Sybill nodded her head, fingers tapping rapidly on the table. “For two years now. I sit a row behind you. And by the way, you're very pretty.”

She was taken back, a genuine smile spreading over her lips. “Thank you, you look lovely too! I adore your glasses.”

A light blush spread across Sybill’s face, her hand brushing against her glasses. Her eyes peered up for a second before averting her gaze. Y/N couldn’t help but smile, already enjoying Sybill’s presence.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

【 Next Chapter 】

91 notes · View notes

blueskrugs · 3 years

Text

Fallin' in Love (in the Middle of the Night) | Joel Farabee

or, as I said in a text to @nazdaddy a couple weeks ago: "hear me out. summer camp AU with beezer." I really miss summer camp and I feel like bee fits the vibes. I've been going to camp since I was 12 and a lot of this is based on that camp and the experiences I've had there. have fun reading!

tagging: @marcoscandellas @stlbluesbrat21 @dembenchboys @poltoncarayko @robthomissed @letmeplaytheblues @troubatrain @ayohockeycheck @blackwidowrising @aria253264 @antoineroussel @starswin @glassdanse @ch-ristiane @majdoline

length: 11k words

There was a new counselor at camp this year. His name was Joel, and no one knew much of anything about him. Most new counselors were freshly aged-out campers, or were dating a current counselor and got dragged along for the week. Joel was neither, and he’d been quiet and keeping to himself since he climbed out of his car and dumped his bags in Cabin 24 earlier that afternoon.

Avery found herself glancing over at Joel more than once while she caught up with some of her friends. He was hanging back from the clusters of other counselors, leaning against a tree and fucking around on his phone, though there was no way he was getting any reception all the way out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees. His baseball hat was on backwards, and his hair was sticking out in tufts from underneath it.

Avery’s co-counselor, Caroline, nudged her in the ribs and followed her gaze. “Think he’s cute?” she teased.

Avery scoffed, but she didn’t look away as some of the guy counselors pulled Joel into whatever dumb argument they were already having. “I’m not dealing with that shit this year,” she said. Every year without fail, there were camp crushes, and they never ended well.

“He’s in our age group,” Caroline told her, which Avery knew already. They’d all gotten the cabin assignments last week, and Avery had been wondering about the new guy since then. “You’ll get to know him, maybe change your mind,” Caroline said with a grin.

Avery rolled her eyes but didn’t get a chance to respond because the camp director was trying to get everyone’s attention so they could head up to the chapel for orientation. They went slowly, still chatting in groups and clusters, yelling out to each other as they made their way up the hill, past the dining hall and towards the chapel. Avery still found herself looking over at Joel as he ambled alongside the groups of counselors. He’s still quiet, though he’s obviously listening to the conversations around him, trying to catch up on years of history and inside jokes. He caught her eye as they duck through the double doors into the AC and sent her a grin.

Caroline might’ve been right about the cute thing.

The chapel on the campgrounds isn’t much of a chapel, and is more a big open room with some of the best wifi anywhere on the property. Somehow, Joel ended up sitting next to Avery in the circle of chairs set up in the middle of the room. He’d grabbed the orientation packet every counselor got and was flipping through it eagerly. Avery snorted softly, and she reached out with her foot to nudge Joel in the shin.

“Don’t worry, dude, it’s all common sense stuff,” she told him. Even the other new counselors, the ones who had just aged out of being campers, didn’t look concerned, though being at camp for a few years was definitely more than enough to know how to basically run the camp.

Joel looked up at her and grinned again. “Yeah, I’m getting that,” he said. “I don’t think I got your name earlier,” he added.

Avery was wearing a sticker with her name scrawled on it like everyone else, but she refrained from rolling her eyes. Barely. “It’s Avery,” she whispered as Austin, the camp director, stood in the middle of the circle.

“Who’s ready for some icebreakers?” he said, way too loud for the small space. Everyone groaned, and Caroline and Avery shared a look from across the circle. “Don’t be like that, we have some new faces, and it’s been a while since everyone’s seen each other,” Austin said.

By Avery’s count, Joel was the only counselor who was truly new, but there was no stopping Austin once he was in Camp Mode.

Two and a half hours later, after they’d painstakingly gone through every page of the counselor’s manual, they finally broke for dinner.

“Is it always like that?” Joel asked as they trooped back down the hill to the dining hall.

Caroline and Avery groaned again. Joel sent them an amused look.

“Every fucking year,” Avery told him.

“I think I have the manual memorized,” Caroline added.

Joel laughed. “Something to look forward to next year then,” he said.

Avery raised her eyebrows. “The kids haven’t even shown up yet. Don’t get ahead of yourself, you might change your mind before the week is over.”

He wouldn’t really, probably, but a week of yelling kids, walking several miles in the August heat, and shitty food definitely had the potential to drive the weak of heart away. It wouldn’t be the first time, and if they did scare Joel off, it wouldn’t be the last. Joel sat across from Caroline and Avery for dinner.

“Eat up, bud,” Avery told him, watching as Joel pushed food around on his plate. “This is the best food you’ll get all week.”

Camp food was notorious for being barely edible on a good day, but because the counselors got in for orientation on a day in-between camp sessions, the kitchen staff was able to make them an actual meal. It still wasn’t the greatest food, but at least it hadn’t been made in bulk and left to sit under heat lamps.

Joel sighed, but reached for the serving bowl next to him for seconds.

Campers arrived in two buses on Sunday afternoon, but first came breakfast and way too much downtime for the counselors. Austin always said it was good for “bonding,” even though most of the counselors had known each other since they were kids.

“How did you end up here anyway?” Avery asked Joel, who was sitting across the table from her again. He’d told her and Caroline at dinner the night before that he was from upstate New York, which was decidedly not anywhere near their little campground in the Midwest wilderness.

“Thought it would be fun,” Joel said around a mouthful of eggs.

Avery never did eat those powdered eggs they served that were a sorry excuse for fresh scrambled eggs. “Please don’t talk with your mouth full, gross,” she told him.

Joel just winked at her.

The counselors lounged around at the lakefront until it was time for the buses to start showing up. Avery caught Joel’s eye at one point in the chaos of unloading kids and their bags and directing them to the right cabins, and she laughed at the look of overwhelmed terror on his face.

The madness of the first day always made it pass quickly. Before Avery knew it, it was after dinner and everyone was trooping down to the fire ring for the opening night campfire. Avery watched as Joel’s campers clustered around him as they walked.

“Who is that?” one of her girls asked. Avery tore her eyes away.

“New counselor, Joel. He’s got our age group, I’m sure you’ll get to know him,” Avery told her. She just hoped they liked him once they got to know him.

Avery ended up sitting on a log with her campers, right behind Joel and the boys. She stared at the back of his hat while she zoned out, half-listening to the same welcome speech Austin gave every year. His backpack was unzipped.

Avery reached down and absently picked up one of the wood chips by her feet. She ran her thumb over it, still pretending to pay attention to whatever Austin was saying. One of her campers next to her caught on to her idea and snickered.

Avery tossed the wood chip in her hand into Joel’s backpack. It landed with a quiet clang as it hit a can of sunscreen, but Joel paid it no mind.

“How many before he notices, do you think?” she whispered.

“Only one way to find out,” Kate whispered back.

Avery picked up another wood chip. In the next five minutes before Austin called all the counselors down for introductions, she landed a little over a dozen more wood chips in his backpack, including one that bounced off of his back and in.

“Backpack’s unzipped,” she told him as she carefully stepped passed him, hitting the bottom of the backpack.

“Thanks, hey, what the f-“ Joel caught himself. He glared at Avery as he zipped up his backpack.

Avery laughed and went next to Caroline in the line of counselors.

It wasn’t a campfire without s’mores, and they broke out the marshmallows as the sun went down. The oldest campers were always in charge of the campfires and s’more assembly, so Avery was catching up with some of her former campers on the logs near the fire. Joel plopped down on the log next to her, one leg stretched out on either side, s’more in hand.

“Want one?” he asked, holding it in Avery’s face. His fingers were sticky with melted marshmallow.

Avery pushed his hand away. “Pass.”

Joel looked personally offended. “What kind of person doesn’t like s’mores?” he asked. Now he had melted chocolate on his upper lip. Avery was carefully not looking.

“This one,” she said. Joel reached out and tugged on her braid. “Ow, what the hell?”

“Just making sure you’re a person and not, like, a robot or something,” he said. Avery just rolled her eyes.

They found out the next morning that they were letting the boy cabins and girl cabins of the same age group sit together this year for meals. Somehow, it was actually less chaotic than if they were separated. Which is how, once again, Joel ended up across the table from Avery at breakfast. She had accepted her fate. He smiled at her, looking far too awake for so early in the morning.

“Hey! Beezer!” one of the boys yelled from the other end of the table. It sounded like Cameron, Avery thought.

“What?” Joel yelled back.

“Beezer?” Avery asked, because what the hell.

“Hang on.” Joel banged his knee on the table as he went to go talk to his boys.

“Beezer?” Avery repeated when he came back, still rubbing his knee.

“From my last name, Farabee,” he explained. “They said Joel is a weird name, so I said they could call me Bee or Beezer.”

“Yeah, because Beezer is so normal,” Avery muttered. Joel kicked her under the table.

It rained Monday afternoon. It was one of those late summer thunderstorms that blew up fast and didn’t really last very long, but it rained hard enough and long enough that all activities after lunch were cancelled. Which meant they were all trapped in their cabins with their campers.

Some of the girls were doing who-knows-what in their bunks, while most of the boys had elected to stay in their cabin with Sam. Joel had followed Avery and Caroline, though, and was now lounging in the common area with them and a handful of their campers.

“I’m bored,” Joel said. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Caroline threw a Goldfish at his head. “Ow,” he said, watching as it bounced to the floor. “Hey, I could’ve eaten that,” he whined. Caroline threw another Goldfish at him, but this time he caught it and popped it in his mouth triumphantly.

“Does anyone have a deck of cards?” Caroline asked.

“Spoons?” Avery asked, getting up to dig her cards out of her bag.

“I have markers!” one of their girls yelled, dashing off to her bunk.

Joel was sitting up again and looking more interested when Avery came back and sat back next to him. She tossed the deck to Caroline to shuffle.

His hat was crooked, and Avery absently straightened it as Joel asked, “How do you play spoons?"

Caroline gasped. “How have you never played spoons before?”

Joel shrugged as he watched the bag of markers get dumped over the table in front of him.

“It’s like musical chairs, but with cards and spoons,” Avery explained. “Alright, how many are playing?”

“That explains literally nothing,” Joel said. “I’m in.”

Avery carefully counted out six markers and laid them out on the table. Caroline started dealing cards to everyone. Joel poked Avery in the arm; she ignored him.

“You’re gonna get four cards,” Avery started explaining. “The goal is to get four of the same number, four queens, four sixes, whatever. Carol is dealer, she’ll keep sending cards around one at a time. If you see a card you want, keep it, and pick a different card from your hand and pass it on instead. First person to four of a kind grabs a marker, the person who can’t get a marker is out, and then there’s one less marker in the next round.”

Joel blinked at her a couple times. “I think I’m still confused.”

Avery laughed and patted him on the leg. “You’ll figure it out,” she told him, picking up her cards.

Joel did figure it out, but only after he was too slow in the scramble for a marker in the first round and got stuck watching for a while.

“I want back in,” he complained. He poked Avery in the back with his foot where she had moved to the floor in front of him. “You’re too fast.”

Avery reached behind her to smack his hand away. “Years of practice, bud. And you’ll get back in when this game’s over.”

Joel stuck his tongue out at Avery, but only Caroline saw it.

By the time the rain let up a little over an hour later, Avery had nearly elbowed a camper in the face fighting Joel for a marker (which she won), Joel threw a marker across the room so Caroline couldn’t get it (and was automatically disqualified), and no less than three fights had broken out.

Basically, they’d had a great time. They still kicked Joel out to go back and deal with his own campers for a while, though, on the grounds of infringing on their territory.

On Monday night, Avery was standing outside her cabin, trying to make sure her flashlight actually worked when Joel came over to her.

“What’re you up to?” he asked.

Avery clicked her flashlight off. “What’re you up to?” she countered.

“Stealing extra snacks from the staff cabin,” he said easily. “You didn’t answer me.”

Avery smiled at him. He was still wearing his baseball hat, turned around the right way now, even though it was well past dark. “I was gonna go for a walk around the campgrounds,” she told him. “Carol’s in with our kids, and I usually go out for a while before bed.”

“By yourself?”

Avery almost laughed at how worried Joel looked. “Bee, I know every inch of this campground, I’ve been coming here since I was a kid.” And then before she could think better of it: “You could come with me if you want.”

Joel’s face lit up. “For real?” Avery did laugh at his face this time.

“Yes, for real. Just let me get a hoodie.” It was still summer, but nights on the lake got chilly.

“Here, just take mine, I won’t need it,” Joel said quickly. He tossed her the hoodie he’d been wearing at dinner.

It was big on her, and warm, though it no longer carried any of his body heat. It smelled like bonfire smoke and whatever deodorant Joel wore. When he turned to head back to the main path, Avery tucked her nose into the collar and took a deep breath.

“Alright, where the fuck are we going,” Joel asked when Avery caught up to him.

Avery shrugged, though she wasn’t sure how well Joel could see it in the dark. She said, “I don’t know, we usually just wander around for a while.

“We?”

Avery usually went on night walks with one of the guy counselors she was friends with, Alex, but he wasn’t there this summer. “You don’t know him,” Avery said.

Joel huffed. “So what, am I just the other guy?” he asked.

Avery laughed. “Something like that. Ooh, there’s a paintball course on the back corner of the grounds, if I can remember how to get there,” she said, already turning so she could head in the right direction. Maybe.

“Oh, lit!”

Avery could not, in fact, remember how to get to the paintball course. They’d made it partially there before Joel got freaked out because he was convinced he’d heard something in the woods behind them. Avery telling him it was probably just a raccoon did not help.

So, they ended up turning around and heading towards the front end of the campgrounds. There was a vacation lodge on that side of the lake, which had never quite made sense to Avery. She could see some of their lights glistening on the black lake. It was a clear night, and there was no one else around, which meant stargazing. Well, after Avery convinced Joel they weren’t trespassing by laying on the tennis courts.

“Do you know anything about stars?” Joel asked. He didn’t look over at Avery, still gazing up at the sky.

Avery snorted softly. “Nah, I just think they’re pretty. You can’t see stars like this in the city.” There were still some lights scattered around the campgrounds, but it was nothing compared to the light pollution of a city. “Our old camp director used to tell us one of those myths about how the stars were created, but I don’t think I remember enough of it to repeat it.” He also used to scare the kids with ghost stories, but Joel didn’t really need to hear about how the campgrounds were haunted just yet.

“Great story,” he said. Avery smacked him on the stomach. “Ow! Hey, be nice to me, or I’ll leave you out here.”

He wouldn’t, and they both knew that.

“Hey,” Joel said suddenly, pointing straight upward. “Is that Orion?”

“Isn’t Orion a winter constellation?” Avery asked. She had no idea where Joel was pointing.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

They mostly laid in silence, just watching the stars and enjoying the closeness and the quiet. Avery always missed hearing the frogs at night when she wasn’t at camp. The black night sky stretched endlessly above them, dotted with stars. Avery would live under these stars if she could. It was getting late, though, and they still had to be up bright and early the next day, so when Avery caught Joel yawning for the third time in as many minutes, she sat up.

“Time for bed?” Joel pouted up at her. “I know the mattresses here aren’t comfortable, but I promise it’ll be better than sleeping on a tennis court,” she told him. It had only been one day of actual camp, and she could already feel some aches settling in. “C’mon, Beezer.”

Avery stood up and stretched before offering Joel a hand up. He groaned as she pulled him to his feet. They made their way back to the cabins together, still in comfortable silence, Avery still wearing Joel’s hoodie.

Joel was carefully peeling a banana when Avery and her campers made it into breakfast Tuesday morning. His hat was facing the right way for once. She dropped her backpack on the bench and groaned.

“What took you guys so long?” he asked. Almost all of the other cabins had made it to the dining hall already. He moved Avery’s bag onto the ground at his feet. “C’mon, sit, food’s coming out soon.”

“Ava lost one of her shoes, and we all had to look for it,” she told him. Joel snorted. Avery tapped the bill of his cap, shoved it down lower over his eyes. “No hats at meals,” she told him.

Joel rolled his eyes, but he took the hat off and ran his fingers through his hair. “Or what?”

“Or it goes on the moose,” Avery said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the taxidermied moose head that hung over the door.

Joel gave her a look, like he definitely didn’t believe her. He’d learn.

When Avery got back to the table from the bathroom before lunch later that day, there was a baseball hat hanging from the moose’s antlers. Joel was hatless and disgruntled-looking.

“Told you,” Avery said, swiping a potato chip from his plate.

She took pity on him later and fished his hat down with the broom handle.

Swim time down at the lakefront had always been Avery’s favorite parts of summer camp. In the middle of all of the craziness of the week, the lake was always peaceful and calm. Avery could take out a paddleboard or a kayak and just float, away from yelling kids, losing track of time in the glassy blue surface of the lake. She’d spend a whole day out there if they would let her.

She had snagged a paddleboard and had made it out to the middle of the lake. She was chatting with a couple of her campers when Joel approached on a kayak. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Hi, Beezer!” the girls in the canoe chorused. Avery grinned at him.

Sam came up on Avery’s other side on another paddleboard. He floated up until he bumped into Avery’s board. She wobbled, but didn’t fall over. “Oops,” Sam said.

Avery pushed Sam’s board away with her paddle. His balance wasn’t as good, and he toppled over. “Oops,” Avery echoed. Sam flipped her off where he thought the girls couldn’t see.

It was warm in the sun, and Avery leaned on her paddle, tilting her face up to the sun. Joel poked her leg with his kayak paddle. When Avery glanced back at him, his cheeks and nose were red from the sun.

“Are you wearing any sunscreen?” Avery asked him.

Joel shrugged. “Nah.”

Avery tsked at him. Sam had made it back up onto his paddleboard.

“Hey, Aves,” he said. “Water feels nice, you should try it.” He was holding his paddle a little like a spear.

They weren’t allowed to swim out in the open water of the lake where all the kayaks were, but they could get away with it if they “fell” in, which is how the counselors usually ended up spending most of their time on the lake trying to knock each other into the water. Avery knew where this was going.

Avery paddled backwards once, trying to get out of Sam’s reach, but she bumped into Joel’s kayak instead.

“Oh, no.”

Joel’s grin turned a little wicked. Avery didn’t have time to brace herself before Joel was shoving her paddleboard, and it went out from under her. She heard everyone laughing as she hit the water with a splash. She came back up, pushing her wet hair out of her face, and hooked her arms over her board. She glared at Joel.

“Rude,” she told him.

Joel shrugged. “Thought you looked hot,” he said.

The water did feel great, actually, though Avery was loath to admit it to either of the boys. Avery sighed and heaved herself back into her board, but she didn’t stand back up, instead sitting with her legs hanging in the water on either side. The girls in the canoe were still giggling, so Avery used her paddle to splash them.

“Hey, come on, they’re innocent!” Joel protested. Avery splashed him next.

Tuesday night meant all-camp kickball on the lower fields.

Avery had never been one for making a fool of herself in team sports, so she was lounging on a blanket in the grass with Caroline and a couple of the counselors for the older girls, safe from any stray flying kickballs. Avery was just debating digging through her backpack to reapply bug spray when Joel made his way over to them.

His hat was perched backwards on his head like always, and he was squinting into the setting sun as it dipped below the treeline. His forehead had gotten sunburnt from being out on the lake earlier. “We’re getting a counselors game goin’. You girls in?” he asked, but Avery had a feeling it was directed more at her than the other three.

She raised an eyebrow up at him and absently swatted at a mosquito on Caroline’s leg. “I don’t do sports,” she told him.

Joel’s face fell. Avery hadn’t even realized how earnest he’d looked. Someone on the other end of the field called his name, and he glanced over his shoulder. “You sure? It’ll be fun,” he tried.

Avery had grown up with most of the other counselors, knew firsthand just how competitive they all were. Fun, maybe, but also intense and way too serious for summer camp kickball.

“I’ll pass,” Avery said.

“Your loss,” Joel tossed back over his shoulder as he jogged away again.

Caroline was smirking. Avery half-heartedly smacked her on the arm. “He definitely has a crush on you,” she said.

“Does he think he’s being subtle?” Meg chimed in from the other side of the blanket, not looking up from the friendship bracelet she was making.

Avery flopped backwards onto the blanket with a groan.

Avery was still on her back, dozing off while listening to the sounds of yelling kids filling the humid air, when Caroline reached over and poked her in the ribs.

“Your boy is up to bat,” she said.

Meg snorted as Avery sat up and leaned back on her elbows to watch. “He’s not ‘my boy,’” Avery grumbled. Then, “Is it still called an at-bat in kickball?” She burst out laughing as Caroline rolled her eyes.

Joel was indeed up next, and Avery watched as Joel kicked the ball and sent it sailing over Drew and Sam’s heads. He easily headed to second base, but the grass was still wet from the rain on Monday, and he wiped out as he stepped on the rubber base. All four girls on the blanket burst out laughing. Joel was still sitting in the grass, looking somewhat disinclined to move.

“You really looked like you were having fun out there,” Avery said to him later, as they all walked back up to the cabins in the dark. “That wipeout was great entertainment for us, too.”

Joel took a step to the side so he could bump into Avery, but reached out to steady her when she lost her balance. “Whatever,” he said. “That really hurt, actually.”

Avery just laughed.

Joel showed up late to lunch on Wednesday with a giant bandage covering his knee and dried blood down his leg.

“What did you do to yourself?” Avery asked as he dropped into the empty spot next to her and reached for the nearest plate of food.

He still had ash streaked across his cheek from firebuilding that morning, when he’d bet Avery that he could build a fire faster than her. (He’d won, but only barely, and because he’d used a battery instead of flint, like they were supposed to.)

Joel didn’t pause in piling food on his plate. “Jackson left his water bottle down at archery, so I went back down to get it for him, and when I was running back up the hill, I slipped on some loose gravel and fell. I think there might be some gravel in my knee now,” he said. Some of the kids at the table laughed.

“You’re a mess,” Avery told him with a sigh.

They were back down the hill towards archery after lunch on Wednesday to hang out in the Nature Center for the afternoon.

“Alright, please fill me in on what we’re doing today,” Joel asked, falling into step next to Avery.

One of Joel’s campers turned around to walk backwards in front of them. “We get to play with snakes!” he said. His name was Jack, Avery was pretty sure, who was very different from Jackson. It all got a little confusing after a while.

“Cool!” Joel said.

Avery rolled her eyes. She poked Joel in the ribs. “You would get excited about that.” He flinched away and pouted at her. It wasn’t that Avery hated the Nature Center, but the animals were the same every year, and you can only get excited about them so many times.

“What? Snakes are cool,” Joel defended.

“Boys,” Avery sighed, walking faster so she could be next to Caroline instead.

Disdain in front of Joel aside, it was fun to get to chill in the AC and hang out with the animals for a while. There was a little milk snake that loved to chill out in people’s hands named Dudley that all the counselors were weirdly fond of. Plus, they got to play around with the ferret they had, which was always highly entertaining.

Joel was just as excited as the kids, which Avery had to admit was kind of cute. He bounced around and looked eagerly into various cages with the kids. Avery and Caroline watched from a couple of the chairs in the corner, content to just hang out until the snakes came out.

“D’you think I’d get in trouble if I put him in Joel’s hood?” Avery mused, idly watching Dudley calmly wind his way around her wrist. Joel’s back was to her, and he was wearing a hoodie despite it being nearly 100 degrees outside.

Caroline giggled. “That’s mean.”

Dudley was making his way back towards Avery’s hand now. “He did say he wanted to hold him,” she said. And with that, Avery took a step forward and carefully deposited Dudley in Joel’s hood, where he promptly curled back up to sleep.

“What are you doing?” Joel asked.

“Just fixing your hood,” Avery said innocently, patting him on the shoulder and taking another step forward and pretending to read the info card of the cage they were standing in front of.

“Avery.” Avery glanced over at Joel. His arms were crossed, but he looked like he was fighting back a smile. “Why is my hood moving.” It wasn’t phrased much like a question.

Avery bit back a smile of her own. “Is it?” Dudley’s head popped out of the hood just then, slithering up onto Joel’s shoulder a little bit. He startled, then shot Avery a dirty look. Avery couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re actually the worst, why.” Dudley continued to make his way across Joel’s shoulder, happy to explore. “Help,” Joel whined, “I don’t think I can reach him, and I don’t wanna drop him.”

“Hold still,” she said, carefully reaching to grab Dudley back out. “Here, he likes to be held.”

Joel obediently held his hands out to take Dudley from Avery. “Hey, take my picture will you?”

Even if Avery never spoke to Joel again after this summer, she was definitely going to keep the picture she took of Joel grinning at the camera with a snake in his hands.

They were walking past the dam later when one of the boys stopped short. Joel, not paying any attention, bumped into him.

“Hey, Avery,” Jack said.

“Hey, Jack,” Avery said back.

“Can we go check out the cemetery?”

Avery shuddered. “Absolutely not.” She wondered who had told the boys about it.

Joel looked at Avery, wide-eyed. “There’s a cemetery here?”

“Yes, and we’re not going back there,” she told him. Several of the boys groaned, put-out. Joel still looked a little nervous, so Avery added, “These grounds used to be privately owned. The cemetery is hidden behind the dam, most people don’t even know about it.” That last part was directed more at their nosy campers.

They had started walking again. Up ahead, one of the campers yelled, “Wait, does that mean no one’s told Beezer that the campgrounds are haunted?”

“They’re what?”

Avery was not too proud to admit that she hated the barn dance a little bit. It was fun for a little while, but after about twenty minutes, it just became hot and dusty. Avery had never been good at following along with the steps they tried to teach, and it was a lot more fumbling and embarrassment than it was worth.

This year she made it through the Cha Cha Slide– which they normally didn’t play until the very end– before she dipped and left the barn to go sit back on the blanket with Meg and Caroline. They spent most of their time just laughing at their friends as they struggled to keep up with music. Avery had only been sitting out for ten minutes when Joel emerged from the crowd and made his way towards them.

“Scoot,” he said, carefully sitting next to Avery. Meg raised her eyebrows at Avery behind Joel’s back.

“Not one for dancing?” Avery asked him.

Joel stuck his tongue out at her. “You’re one to talk, you’ve been sitting over here forever.” Avery stuck her tongue out back.

“Real mature, you two,” Caroline muttered from next to them.

“Hey, wait, actually,” Joel said, reaching out to tug on Avery’s arm. He pulled her closer to him, until she was situated between his legs, leaning back against his chest. He draped his arms across her shoulders and rested his chin on the top of Avery’s head. “That’s better.”

“You’re so weird,” Avery said, but she relaxed into his hold. She rested her hands on his and settled back in to watch the semi-organized chaos of the barn dance going on in front of them.

Thursday morning found Joel hunched over a Styrofoam cup of coffee with his glasses on and hoodie pulled up over his head.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” Avery said, sitting across from him and swiping his coffee for a sip.

“Hey,” Joel whined, “I need that.”

Avery snorted and handed him his coffee back. “Why are you so tired, anyway?” Avery had gone back to the cabin after barn dance and passed out herself.

Joel made a noise in the back of his throat. “We couldn’t get the boys to shut up and settle down last night.” Said boys were at the other end of the table, looking about as tired as Joel, actually.

“Y’all better wake up down there,” Avery called. “We’ve got Alpine today.” “What the hell is the Alpine Tower, anyway?” Joel asked. “No one will tell me.”

The Alpine Tower was hard to describe, and it was better to experience for the first time if you didn’t know what you were getting into, so Avery just said, “You’ll see.”

Joel groaned and put his head down on the table.

After breakfast, Joel was by Avery’s side, as was becoming typical, as they started the trek towards Alpine Tower. He’d woken up considerably as his coffee hit. “How far is it anyway?” he asked.

“Far,” everyone else chorused. Joel looked taken aback.

“You should know by now that nothing here is ever a short walk,” Avery told him. The shortest walk on the grounds was probably from the cabins to the dining hall, and that was still almost half a mile. Ahead of them, a group of their campers were chattering excitedly about their climbs later.

Joel reached out and tugged on Avery’s braid where it was pulled over her shoulder. “You should give me a piggyback ride.” Avery raised an eyebrow at him. Joel easily had a head on her. “Or you could give me one,” she countered, not really expecting Joel to take her up on it.

Except. “Only if you carry my backpack,” Joel said, already shrugging off his backpack and handing it to Avery.

She laughed. “Bud, I was joking.”

Joel adjusted his hat and came to a stop next to Avery. He was eyeing her expectantly. “Last chance.”

Avery sighed and put Joel’s backpack on over hers. “Jesus Christ, what do you have in this thing?” she asked. It was heavier than hers by a lot. Joel crouched down so Avery could climb onto his back.

“Wood chips,” Joel deadpanned as he adjusted Avery on his back, hiking her up a little higher. Avery tightened her arms around Joel’s neck.

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, but Joel didn’t respond as he started walking again, jogging a little to catch up with Caroline and the kids.

Caroline gave them both a look as they reached the rest of their group, but didn’t comment. Joel carried Avery for most of the long walk towards Alpine, and it was mostly fine, except for the moment he stopped to hike her legs up higher around his waist again and nearly accidentally flipped Avery over his head.

He came to a stop as they reached the first big hill. “Nope, ride’s over. Sorry, sweetheart, I don’t do hills.” He let Avery slide off his back and back onto the ground.

“Sweetheart?”

Joel blushed a little and wouldn’t meet Avery’s eyes. Avery purposely bumped into him as they both started walking again. Joel was panting by the time they made it to the top of the second steep hill, but he stopped short once he saw the Alpine Tower for the first time.

“Oh, hell no,” he said.

Avery laughed and went to drop down in the wood chips on the ground next to Caroline.

“What took you two so long?” she asked.

“Joel’s slow,” Avery told her.

“I heard that!” Joel called. He was only a few feet away, sitting on the low bench next to one of his campers.

“You were meant to!” Avery called back.

The Alpine Tower had once been described to Avery as “a rock wall on steroids.” What it really was was a triangular platform fifty feet in the air, and it was up to the climber to figure out how to get to the top. Each of the three sides were varying degrees of difficulty, and it was always one of Avery’s favorite camp activities. When she glanced over her shoulder, Joel was still staring up at it.

“Scared, Beezer?” she asked.

Joel scoffed, but he didn’t quite look like he meant it.

They made it through the safety demonstration and got a couple kids going up the Tower, and Avery settled in to watch, cheer her kids on, and wait for her turn. Until someone started pelting her with wood chips from behind.

“Can I help you?” she asked, turning around to glare at Joel.

He was already in the middle of throwing another wood chip at her, and it hit her in the forehead this time. “Oops.” He didn’t look particularly sorry, actually. “You gonna climb?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course,” she said. “Are you?” Joel just shrugged. “Wouldn’t have pegged you to be scared of heights,” she added.

Joel stuck his tongue out at her. “I’m not. Just-” he trailed off.

“How ‘bout this,” Avery said, turning fully to face Joel. “I’ll race you to the top. I’ll even let you take the easy side,” she told him. She’d been planning on taking one of the harder sides, anyway, but Joel didn’t need to know that. Joel rolled his eyes, but Avery saw a familiar glint at the prospect of a competition. “Unless you’re too scared, Bee,” she added, just a taunt, really.

“Whatever, you’re on,” he said, half-heartedly throwing another wood chip at Avery’s leg. Avery grinned at him, and Joel grinned back. Caroline shook her head at both of them.

After all the kids had taken their turn at climbing, the counselors were allowed to strap themselves into harnesses and helmets. Avery and Joel stood next to each other in the shadow of the Tower, listening as they were attached to ropes and given final instructions by the climbing staff.

“Fuck, this thing is tight,” Joel muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

“Shh, language,” Avery scolded. Their campers were all in high school, and they’d probably all heard or said “fuck” themselves by now, but still. Joel flicked her in the helmet. “Hey, be nice to me, and I might let you win.”

Joel huffed. “Let me win, sure, alright.”

“Good luck, Bee,” Avery yelled to him, already heading over to start her climb.

She was on the “middle” side, which was harder than the side Joel was starting on, but Avery had the advantage of having climbed that side more than once before. It didn’t take long before she had caught back up to Joel, who had sort of gotten himself stuck.

“Help?” he called, trying to look for a way to keep moving forward.

“Sucks to suck, Beezer,” Avery called back, reaching up to pull the cargo net she was about to climb towards her. This is where it got harder, requiring more upper body strength than Avery actually had, but when she glanced back over her shoulder, Joel had gotten himself unstuck and was moving again.

She stopped paying attention to Joel mostly after that, though she did hear a thump and then an “Ow,” that she was assuming was Joel hitting his head on something, which would definitely not have been the first time someone had done it.

She was about to climb her last stretch of cargo net when she heard, “Shit, why are you so good at this?” from below her. “Quit checking out my ass, Joel,” she yelled without turning around. She cackled when she heard Joel make loud noises of protest. It didn’t really matter; she had a race to win.

In the end, Avery barely made it to the top of the Tower before Joel. She had just stood up on the platform when one of Joel’s hands appeared, grappling for the little rock climbing rocks they had for grip on the top of the platform.

“A little help?” he asked. She could just barely see his head.

“You made it this far, you can do it,” she told him, but she took a couple steps closer to him. It was entirely ungraceful, but Joel eventually scrambled onto the platform and then to his feet.

Avery took a moment to appreciate the view. They were high, above the treeline, and trees stretched out in all directions for as far as Avery could see.

“Fuck, we’re high up,” he said.

“Stop saying fuck,” Avery chided, but she offered him a high five. “Told ya you could do it.”

“Have I told you that I hate you?” Joel asked, shaking his head. He took the high five, though. “Wait, how do we get down again?”

Alpine Tower took up most of the morning, and by the time they all made it back to the dining hall, lunch was already in full swing. Joel stretched out on the bench with a sigh.

“How am I already sore?” he asked, to no one in particular.

Avery nudged his leg. “Move over, dude, the rest of us have to sit, too.”

Joel groaned, but sat up, though he was still sitting sideways on the bench. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on Avery’s shoulder. She patted him absently on the thigh. One of the campers was setting out lunch on their table, and she was trying to see what it was.

“I’m tired,” Joel said. He was quiet for once, and Avery barely heard him over the general din of lunch.

“You can take a nap instead of coming out to the mud cave, meet up with us again for swim time,” she said, knowing full well he wouldn’t do that. He’d been talking about the mud cave ever since Avery had told him about it on Sunday night.

Joel sat upright again. “No way, I wanna get dirty.”

Avery groaned. “Please never say that again.” Joel wiggled his eyebrows at her. She knocked his baseball hat off his head.

The two cabins met back in the circle drive outside the dining hall after lunch, dressed in their dingiest clothes and oldest shoes, ready to pile into the old van that took them out to the edge of the campgrounds. For once, Joel wasn’t wearing a baseball hat. He couldn’t stand still, bouncing around while he chattered with his boys while they waited.

The van pulled up, as rickety and rusty as ever, helmets were handed out, and everyone clambered into the van. There wasn’t a lot of space, and it was hot as the van made its slow way across camp.

“Why is everyone wearing their helmets already?” Joel asked, as the van hit a bump in the road and Joel bounced high enough in his seat to hit his head on the roof. “Ow, okay.”

Eventually the van came to a stop at the creek that cut across the overgrown field they were in. Everyone piled out of the van, blinking in the sunlight.

“So, where’s the cave?” Joel asked. A couple people laughed.

“Across the creek, through the field, and then about another mile into the woods,” Avery told him, patting him on the shoulder as she went past him towards the creek. The campers had already started wading across. When she glanced back over her shoulder at him, he looked a little dismayed.

The creek was clear and cold despite the late summer heat. It came up just past Avery’s waist as she splashed across. The field on the other side was just as overgrown as the one they started in, if not more, and everyone tried to get through it and away from all the bees as fast as possible.

“Is it really that far of a walk?” Joel asked as he caught back up to Avery. His nose had gotten sunburnt at some point, was peeling a little.

“Unfortunately,” Avery said. They were walking back into the shade of the woods now. Avery’s shoes were still squishing a little from the creek, and she could already feel a blister forming on her heel.

Joel groaned, but he was otherwise quiet as they kept walking. They walked in silence for a while, and Avery basked in the sunlight filtering through the trees and the sounds of the birds and cicadas.

“How much farther?” Joel whined after a while. Avery bumped sideways into him.

“We’re almost through the week, don’t tell me you can’t handle a little walking now,” she teased.

Joel bumped into Avery back. “Sorry, one of us walked all the way up to Alpine Tower today,” he said.

“Hey, I walked up the hills at the end!” Avery protested. It wasn’t like she had begged Joel for a piggyback ride, either. Joel rolled his eyes at her.

They had finally reached the cave, and everyone was clustered around the permanent member of the camp staff who would lead their group. The kids were listening eagerly, but Joel was paying attention to literally anything else.

Avery nudged him with her elbow. “Focus, Beezer,” she whispered.

Joel stuck his tongue out at Avery, but started paying attention to where their leader was warning them about bats. “Hang on, you never said anything about bats,” Joel hissed. In front of them, the kids were lining up to head into the cave. Avery just grinned at him and shoved him forward to walk in front of her.

It was immediately cooler when they stepped into the cave. With all the rain on Monday, the water was higher than some years, and it was quickly up over Avery’s shins. In front of her, Joel clicked his flashlight on, but it did little as they made their way deeper into the blackness of the cave.

“Shit, this water’s freezing,” Joel said, way too loudly.

Avery laughed quietly. She felt her shoe unstick from the mud as she took another step. “I don’t know what you expected,” she whispered. It was hard to navigate the uneven footing in the dark and the water, and she tripped a little bit as the ground sloped suddenly beneath her. She caught herself with a hand on Joel’s back. “Shit, sorry,” she said.

Joel didn’t say anything, but he slowed down a bit so Avery could stay closer to him and his little circle of light. He kept a hand outstretched behind him in case Avery tripped again. It was quiet in the cave, just the sounds of everyone making their way through the muddy water and the occasional quiet giggle or curse from the campers. Avery lost track of time a bit, and before she knew it they had reached the back of the cave. All flashlights were turned off, and they stood quietly in the pitch black for a few long moments. Joel was standing close enough to Avery that she could feel his body heat, chasing away some of the chill of the cave. When they finally turned to leave and headed back out of the cave, Joel’s hand found the small of her back, steadying her, just for a second.

At the mouth of the cave, their leader insisted on streaking mud across everyone’s face before they could leave. Joel wrinkled his nose and poked at his cheek as they stepped back out into the sunlight. “Feels weird,” he complained.

“The mud is what you have a problem with?” Avery asked. Yeah, it itched a little as it was drying, but they were also covered in muddy water, well past both of their knees.

Joel just shrugged.

The walk back to the creek always seemed longer. It was still hot and humid, even in the shade of the woods, but it felt worse after spending almost an hour in freezing water and the damp dark of the cave. Everyone walked slower, dragging their soggy feet.

Joel ended up in the creek ahead of Avery. The kids were splashing around, relishing in the clean water.

“Hey, Bee,” Avery called.

Joel turned towards her, but Avery missed a drop-off of the rocks that made up the creek bed, and stumbled. Joel caught her quickly before she face-planted into the water.

“Careful,” he said, grinning down at her. “No need to throw yourself at me,” he added.

Avery rolled her eyes. She had found her footing, but Joel was still clutching her arms. She pushed at his chest and laughed as his heel slipped and he fell backwards. He disappeared under the water for a moment.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” he said when he reappeared.

Avery tried to dash away, but the water came up over her waist, which made it hard to move quickly. She splashed as much as she could, but she felt Joel grab her around the waist and haul her backwards until they were both falling back underwater. Avery shrieked. Joel let go of her after they both went under, and Avery pushed herself away and stood back up. They were both soaked now. Joel was laughing, and Avery couldn’t help but to laugh, too.

“Alright, you two,” Caroline yelled from the shore. “Quit flirting and get out of the creek.”

They both grumbled about it, but they made it to the other side of the creek without further incident.

Back into the van everyone went. It felt less hot with everyone still chilled from the cave and playing in the creek. Joel slid in next to Avery, pressed up against her side. They were stopping off at the lakefront swim next instead of going back to their cabins, and Avery was looking forward to spending more time out in the sun on the lake. Joel nudged her in the ribs with his elbow, drawing her attention away from where she was staring out the window.

“You goin’ out on the lake?” he asked quietly. The van jolted, and he ended up nearly in Avery’s lap for a moment.

“Of course,” Avery said back.

“Wanna grab a canoe together and chill?”

Avery thought for a moment. “Not interested in trying to knock me off a paddle board some more?” she teased.

Joel shook his head, grinning at Avery. His helmet was off, and his hair was a mess from being underneath it. “Too tired,” he said.

“Lame,” Avery said. Then, “Dibs on the front of the canoe.”

It didn’t take long to change out of their drenched and muddy clothes into swimsuits and commandeer a canoe. Joel got stuck doing most of the steering, with Avery only paddling when necessary. They mostly just drifted, letting the breeze push them along the open water. The lake was steel grey, the sky above them dark with clouds that had rolled in while they were in the cave, threatening more rain. Avery sat back and let her fingers brush across the water.

“Hey,” Joel said. His voice echoed a little, carrying across the lake. “Look at me for a sec.”

Avery turned as much as she could without jostling the canoe. Joel had his phone out, and when she turned, Avery heard the artificial shutter sound as Joel snapped a picture of her. She flipped him off with a grin; he took a picture of that, too.

The dining hall seemed extra loud that night, campers running back and forth between tables, everyone desperate for a few extra minutes with their friends before everyone went their separate ways the next day.

“You’ve got a little-” Joel poked the dried mud Avery still had across her cheekbones, sitting next to her at their table.

She swatted his hand away. “Shut up, I didn’t have time to shower after swim.” Joel slid down the bench, away from Avery. “Okay, rude,” she said. Joel grinned at her. He didn’t move any closer.

After dinner was the closing campfire. They were at the big fire ring this time, down near the lakefront as the sun set. Joel found Avery sitting on one of the benches off to the side of the fire by herself and plopped down on the bench next to her. His backpack made a muffled thump when he dropped it in the wood chips at their feet.

Avery dropped her head to rest on Joel’s shoulder. “I’m tired, Bee,” she whined. As much as she loved camp, it usually kicked her ass by the end of the week.

Joel laughed softly and patted Avery on the thigh. “Last day tomorrow,” he reminded her.

Avery stared into the flickering flames until her eyes went unfocused. “But I don’t wanna go home.”

She didn’t want to leave camp, her happy place, didn’t want to leave Joel, who she was maybe falling in love with, didn’t want to leave her friends and the endless days of summer behind.

Joel laughed again, but it wasn’t mean. “I get that.” The kids were starting in on their s’mores. “I wasn’t sure how much I was gonna like it here, honestly. Especially when I got here and everyone else already knew each other, and I was just the new guy.”

Avery lifted her head and looked at Joel. The firelight was casting shadows across his face, but he was gazing out over the lake. His hand was still on Avery’s leg, just above her knee.

“Did you like it after all?” Avery asked. She thought about him talking about next year on the very first day, saying he thought camp would be fun.

Joel grinned then, and it was familiar and comforting. Avery hadn’t expected that to happen at the beginning of the week.

She found herself wanting to see Joel’s smile forever.

“Yeah, I did,” was all Joel said. Avery put her head back on his shoulder.

They were quiet for a few minutes as the sun sank fully below the treeline and the lake glowed red next to them. Avery shivered in spite of the warm air as a wind blew. Joel bumped her head with his shoulder so Avery sat back up, and then he was bending over to dig something out of his backpack. He dropped a hoodie in Avery’s lap. She hadn’t seen him wearing it ever during the evening, which meant he’d thrown it in his bag just for her. She pulled it on with a small smile.

“You might not get this back, bud,” she told him, tugging the sleeves over her hands. Guys’ hoodies always seemed more comfortable than any sweatshirt Avery had ever owned herself.

Joel just shook his head at her and tugged on her braid, but it was gentle, half-hearted.

“Oh, wait, I’ll be right back,” Joel said, jumping back up and disappearing towards the s’mores table. When he came back a few minutes later, he had a s’more in one hand.

“What, nothing for me?” Avery teased.

“No, because you don’t like chocolate, you freak,” Joel said, but he reached into his shorts pocket and triumphantly produced an unopened sleeve of graham crackers, tossing them to Avery. She squinted suspiciously at him as he sat back down. “Carol told me you’ll eat the graham crackers,” he said casually.

Avery opened the crackers carefully and stuck one in her mouth. “Thanks, Bee,” she said around it. It came out softer than she meant for it to.

Joel winked at her and stole a graham cracker.

Every year, there were rumours of campers planning to sneak out of their cabins on the last night of camp. Really, they were terrible at being discreet about it, but they thought they were being subtle. Regardless, the counselors still had to be careful and watch to make sure no one actually did manage to sneak out.

Which is how Avery and Joel ended up sitting out in front of the stars at the small fire ring in front of their cabins, perched on the cold stone wall with both of their cabins in view. Avery was still wearing Joel’s hoodie.

“Do you think they’ll actually do it?” Joel asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Avery shook her head and tilted her chin to look up at the stars. “Probably not, but I’m not about to get in trouble with Austin if they do.” It had happened once while she was still a camper, and it hadn’t exactly been pretty the next day with an entire cabin in trouble.

It had been cloudy earlier in the day, but it had cleared up, and the stars were as bright as ever above them. The moon was low and yellow in the humid air. Avery wished for a second that she had a camera to capture this moment, a memory to last forever.

Joel mimicked Avery, looking up at the stars. “Bright tonight,” he said. Avery hummed in agreement. “Hey, you know what we should do after the kids fall asleep?” he asked suddenly.

Avery raised an eyebrow at him. “Sleep?”

Joel huffed out a quiet laugh. “I wanna check out that cemetery you guys were talking about,” Joel said.

“At night?” Avery said. “Hell no, it’s creepy enough during the daytime,” she told him.

She’d been back there once before, years ago. There were broken headstones scattered throughout the overgrown grass, and it was shaded by the dam and a dozen trees, making it cooler, even in the heat of summer. It felt like it was a world away from the rest of the camp, quiet and eerie, and Avery had zero plans of ever going back there.

Joel rolled his eyes. “You know what else we could do?” He turned so he was facing Avery.

She tilted her head to look at him. He was smiling softly at her. It was a little scary how quickly he’d become a part of Avery’s life, how she went from knowing nothing about him to trusting that he’d always be by her side.

“I don’t know, Joel, what could we do?” Avery whispered.

Joel’s smile grew, and then he was leaning in. Avery’s eyes closed as their lips met. Joel’s hand was wrapped around one of Avery’s wrists, thumb rubbing absently over the skin there. When he pulled away, he was still smiling. They were sitting closer together than they had been, though Avery wasn’t sure which one of them had moved.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all week,” Joel admitted.

“Well, why didn’t you?” Avery asked, and then she was wrapping a hand around the back of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. She could feel Joel smiling into the kiss, even as he tugged her closer.

Distantly, Avery heard a cabin door open. She pulled away to turn and look, and Joel dropped his head to her shoulder. Avery ran her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. Caroline was walking towards them.

“I was going to tell you that the kids are asleep and you two can come back inside, but you seem pretty busy,” she said once she got closer.

They both flipped her off, and she laughed at them as she turned and headed back into the girls’ cabin. Avery shivered in spite of herself then. Joel rubbed his free hand over Avery’s thigh, a little bit for warmth, and a little bit just to touch her, because he could do that now.

“Last day tomorrow,” Joel murmured. Avery leaned closer.

“Don’t wanna talk about that,” she said. She looked back up at the stars, hoping that they would have some answers, for how she was feeling, for how she was going to go back to a normal life after this.

Joel used a finger to pull Avery’s chin towards him again, to press one last kiss to her lips. He used the hand on her wrist to pull her to her feet.

“Better get to bed,” he said, and it sounded a little wistful.

As much as she didn’t want to leave Joel, Avery was cold, and her ass hurt from sitting on the concrete wall for so long. “Walk me to my door?” she asked. The cabin was only a couple hundred feet away, but she was going to hold onto every last moment. Joel held his arm out for her to loop hers through. “Don’t want to get attacked by a raccoon or something,” she added.

Joel ducked his head and stole one last kiss when he dropped her off, Avery’s hand already on the doorknob.

“See you tomorrow,” she whispered to his retreating back.

The last day of camp was always weird. The buses didn’t come to pick up the campers until after lunch, which left several weird hours of downtime to kill in between cabin cleanout and the time everyone actually left camp. Even with everyone still lingering and saying their goodbyes, with the cabins standing empty, camp had an eerie and melancholy feel.

Cleaning out the cabins was always a mad scramble of kids hunting down their belongings and cleaning up week-old messes. They only had half an hour after breakfast before they had to be out of the cabins, and there was never enough time.

“How does someone always lose a towel?” Avery asked Caroline. “How do you not realize you don’t have your swim towel?”

Joel had sat next to Avery at breakfast, like usual, but they hadn’t talked about the night before, or what was going to happen in the future. Avery was trying her best not to think about it. Which is to say, it was all she could think about.

Caroline waved her hand in front of Avery’s face, jarring her back to the present. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” she asked.

“Joel,” Avery admitted.

Caroline smirked. “I can’t believe it took you two that long to get your shit together. Thought for sure you’d be hooking up after the first night.”

Avery shoved at Caroline’s arm until she fell off the path and stepped into the grass, cackling. “Why am I friends with you.” Caroline stepped back on the sidewalk. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do. Summer camp is a whole different world from everything else.”

“I think you’re overthinking this,” Caroline told her. Ahead of them, Joel was helping one of the younger boys carry his heavy bag. Avery sighed.

“I don’t even think he lives around here,” Avery said, remembering when Joel had told them he was from New York. She had never thought to ask how exactly he’d come across their little camp, how he’d ended up in the Midwest.

Caroline shoved her back. “You know how you could find all that out?” she asked. “Talk to him.”

They had caught up to Joel. “Who are we talking to?” he asked, shooting Avery a knowing look.

They lost him in the chaos of trying to organize all the kids’ luggage into the proper bus piles, but he cornered Avery in the basement of the dining hall as she was about the head back upstairs.

“Hi,” she said. He was wearing his hat the right way around for once. Avery reached up and flipped it backwards, so she could pull him down for a quick kiss. Joel’s hand was warm on her waist.

“What was that for?” Joel asked, but he ducked down to steal another kiss. “Heard we needed to talk about something,” he went on, without waiting for Avery to respond. She poked him in the stomach, got him to back off from where he was caging her in against a wall.

“How does this work?” Avery asked. Joel had taken a step back, but he stayed close, close enough that Avery could see the way his eyebrows furrowed when she spoke.

“What do you mean?”

“Camp doesn’t last forever, Joel,” Avery said.

“So what, this has to end?” Joel asked.

Avery took another step away from Joel. “I don’t know, does it?” she snapped. “What even is ‘this,’ anyway?”

Joel stepped closer and took Avery’s hand. “I don’t know, but I know that I like you, and that I want to find out,” he said.

Avery looked up at Joel. The look in his eyes was earnest, genuine. She felt the fight drain out of her. “How do we do that?” she murmured.

“We’ll figure it out as we go, yeah?”

Avery smiled. “Yeah.”

When they made it back upstairs, Caroline was shuffling a deck of cards, and there was a pile of spoons stolen from the kitchen in the middle of the table. Joel was still holding tightly to Avery’s hand as they walked. A couple campers made room for them at the table, and his hand rested on her thigh instead. Avery leaned into his side.

“Deal us in,” she said.

#cait writes things #joel farabee #joel farabee fic #joel farabee imagine #joel farabee fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey imagine

201 notes · View notes

mrpenguinpants · 4 years

Text

Zhongli: Dating HCs

Aww, I’m glad you like it. Honestly, it was probably one of my favourite hcs to write aha. Ah yes Zhongli, the man who I refuse to believe has money and is constantly broke 24/7. An accurate reflection of me when I spend all my primogems on Childe and have nothing for Zhongli.

This is my first time writing for Zhongli so I might have went a bit overboard? When you were gonna write a couple HCs and ended up writing 1k+ words. Whoops? Maybe I should put a read more on this.

[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic

Zhongli: Dating HCs

When you first met Zhongli, your first impressions on him was that he was a very intelligent and well-culture man on Liyue’s traditions and history. That was until you got acquainted with his money and negotiation habits. It gave you a bit of whiplash at how, almost naïve, Zhongli was but it was also endearing? It made him feel a lot more approachable and make you feel like less of an idiot when he started spouting off about things that most Liyue citizen’s wouldn’t know.

Your inner consciousness was screaming at you to help him out. You didn’t want to see him get his entire wallet scammed because he didn’t know how to handle mora. That’s how you basically became his accountant. You didn’t know where he was getting his money but if he was throwing it away so easily, it wouldn’t last long.

After a while, you developed a business-friend type relationship with the man. You would attempt to handle his negotiations and try and fix his bad habit of forgetting his wallet and in return, he’d tell you stories and odd bits of trivia that only someone like him would know. It was kind of interesting hearing him ramble on about different plants and machines. Though he did have a really nice voice too which probably added to the appeal. He mentioned once that if you were to ever pass away, he would see to it personally that your send off would be perfect. You told him he really did not need to worry about that.

Overtime, you found yourself beside Zhongli on simple outings. No need to worry about work or wondering where the actual hell Zhongli got his funds from, just friendly chatter. If you both happened to meet on the Liyue street with no work to complete, he’d ask for your company. Through one of your conversation you told him you were originally from Sumeru so he’d take you to special spots in Liyue, offering small bits of history.

One day, Zhongli had invited you out to dinner saying it was his treat for helping him out so much. You weren’t going to say no to his company and a potential free meal so you agreed. It was an overall good time until Zhongli reached into his pocket to hand you a gift, a case to carry your vision. You had mentioned once when you first met that your vision had been accidently eaten by a pyro slime when you were traveling from Sumeru to Liyue, so the casing was burnt around the edges. It was a shock to you that not only did he remember, since you only said it once in a brief comment, but the casing was actually really beautiful. Zhongli gently reached over to take your hands to put your vision into the new case, his fingertips slowly lingering. Then the gears in your head slowly began turning as the evening lamps reflected on the vision case.

“Wait, have you’ve been...asking me out on dates?” you asked, eyes blinking wide at him as he tilted his head to the side. He didn’t appear mad or annoyed, just genuinely confused by your question.

“Yes? I was under the impression you were aware I was courting you.”

You quickly run through the last couple of weeks with Zhongli trying to see if there was anything that stood out. You suppose he was smiling a bit more, going to more romantic areas in Liyue, and he did just give you a new case for your vision...

You wanted to die right there in your seat as your entire face flushed red. You didn’t even realize. So much for calling Zhongli the naïve one. Zhongli slightly frowned as he took your silence as a silent rejection and slowly slipped his hands out of yours before you quickly curled your fingers around his to keep them in place.

“Sorry, hang on. Please just -give me a second to collect my thoughts.” you quickly stutter out as you unconsciously squeezed his hand tighter as you bite your lip nervously.

“Okay, take as long as you need,” Zhongli nods. If you weren’t gripping his hand like a lifeline he’s tempted to ease the pressure on your lip so the skin wouldn’t break.

You did really like Zhongli, you wouldn’t have stopped him from pulling away if you didn’t. But going from your casual friendship to something more?

“Um...would it be alright if we could take it slow? I don’t mean anything bad by that nor am I rejecting you. We could see how things go? Whatever happens happens?” you began to ramble before Zhongli cut you off. He slowly loosens the vice like grip you had on him and moves his hand to gently cup your cheek, to trace along the indent you left on your lower lip.

“Yes, I would like that very much. Thank you,” he smiles softly at you as his amber eyes seemed to glow in the dark. On second thought, you might not be able to take it slow, this one look is enough to kill you.

At first, Zhongli would give you material possessions and while it was very nice and his sense of style wasn’t that bad, you couldn’t help but worry that he might have spent his entire life savings. You have to gently remind him that you don’t need these things to win you over. Just to be himself and let things happen naturally. He nods along and actually begins taking notes, as if you’ve told him the meaning of life. It’s a bit embarrassing but at least it show’s that he’s serious.

Zhongli is earnest in everything he does and sometimes a bit too blunt. He’s still incredibly respectful of your personal boundaries and space but if you catch him staring at you he’ll be honest in his reasons why. Sometimes he’ll keep going and that embarrasses you too much to the point you have to reach over and stop him before your face overheats.

Likewise, his affection is similar. He isn’t incredibly affectionate but sometimes he seems to pop out of nowhere or you’ll be mid-sentence and he’ll sneak a small kiss. He isn’t trying to fluster you on purpose which makes you a bit more shy that he can do these acts with such ease.

Whenever he mentions that he may bore you with his information on odd historical and cultural aspect of Liyue, even calling it a "bourgeois parasite" you quickly shut it down. He should have more confidence, not everyone in Liyue knows what he knows and he should be proud. It’s because of him that traditions are alive, even if it’s just him that remembers them. He wraps his arms around you and embraces you tightly as he thanks you so sincerely, it almost stuns you in place.

If you do happen to fall asleep he doesn’t take it personally. He enjoys the fact that you feel so comfortable in his presence to rest. But he does end up sitting the the same position until you wake up even though you tell him that sitting in the same position, at night, in the cold, for 6 hours straight is not something he needs to do.

You absolutely do not trust Childe anywhere near Zhongli but you’re weak whenever he gives you that small smile. He thinks of Childe as...a friend? Companion? A walking talking bank account? You doubt it’s the last one considering how respectful Zhongli is but you can’t help but worry. But if Zhongli considers Childe a friend then you’ll silently accept him. It slightly helps you get through the day, until you see Childe already sitting at a table waving to you both innocently. I hope you don’t mind that I invited Childe, he says. A part of you wonders if he actually knows what a date is or if the first times were flukes.

When Zhongli is there you’re both respectful with each other, slipping underhanded comments disguised as friendly jest’s. But as soon as he leaves, you’re ripping into Childe. Zhongli comments that he’s glad you and Childe get along so well as you both stare at him as if he’s grown two heads.

Sometime you get so frustrated that you have to sit him down and just clasp your palms on his cheeks as he stares up at you confused. You want to knock some sense into him that while Childe may own a bank, he in fact does not, and he should really stop digging himself into deeper debt with that Fatui. But he gives you that same tilt of the head, a small smile stretching over his mouth, and his amber eyes soften just a tad that it knocks the wind out of you on just how cute Zhongli can be sometimes.

You both never end up formally putting a label on what you both are, which felt a bit unusually to Zhongli who is so rooted in tradition. But as he watches you pout at him that he isn’t filtering anything you’re saying as you pay the merchant, he can’t help but wonder what the customs of Sumeru are in terms of marriage.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin impact zhongli #genshin zhongli #zhongli #genshin impact zhongli x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli imagines #zhongli headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact childe #childe #genshin childe

600 notes · View notes

asweetprologue · 3 years

Text

me lámh le do lámh - Part IV

First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

They spent a few days in Oxenfurt, mostly for Jaskier’s benefit. The bard hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wasn’t prepared to head out. There was packing to be done, his rooms to see to, appointments to cancel with the university. Geralt was happy enough to wait. It wasn’t strictly a hardship to spend some time lounging in Jaskier’s rooms and wandering the university gardens during the day before following Jaskier to whatever tavern or hall he was to play at for the evening. Jaskier was away for the better part of most days, but Geralt moved his things to Jaskier’s rooms after the first night at the inn. Waking well before Jaskier in the same bed, he was greeted each morning to Jaskier’s arm slung across his chest, warm and comfortable in the predawn silence. His cheeks would be ruddy with sleep and their shared heat under the blankets, his hair flattened awkwardly to his skull where it had been pressed to the pillow.

He’d missed this. After months without Jaskier’s presence, it felt like he was drowning in it, shocked by the strength of his own reaction. With the golden light of the morning sun shining through Jaskier’s one window to fall softly across his brow and pick out the silver strands in his hair, Geralt wondered at how he could have ever misplaced this feeling in his chest. He loved him. He wanted to preserve each moment in fine amber, never to fade.

But finally Jaskier was finished making his arrangements, and they were able to set out from Oxenfurt towards their first destination. It would take them several weeks to collect the components that Ida had mentioned—weeks that Geralt would have to spend dancing around the subject of the ritual and its origins, as well as his traitorous heart. As he caught Jaskier’s bright smile from up ahead as they crossed the Oxenfurt bridge, he hoped that he wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

“So where, exactly, are these mysterious elven ruins?”

Geralt grunted, both in answer and in exertion as he swung his sword through another clump of heavy brush, clearing the path. Roach waited patiently behind him, and Jaskier less so. He turned to look back at them both, finding Jaskier giving him an unimpressed look. Geralt forced down the urge to grumble again. “They’re close,” he said, taking Roach’s reins to lead her through the cleared bushes. The path that they were following was barely a deer trail in places, clearly unused for decades. There had been no sign thus far that the area had once been populated aside from the occasional flash of white brickwork that told Geralt they were on the right track.

“Oh, really,” said Jaskier, who had likely not noticed the brickwork, based on Geralt’s past experience with his observation skills. “You know what I think, Geralt? I think we’re lost in the woods in the middle of nowhere, a day away from the nearest hamlet, and we’re just as likely to find a wyvern den as an elven temple out here.”

“Wyverns don’t populate the lowlands,” Geralt said automatically, kicking a large branch out of Roach’s path.

Jaskier made a strangled sound behind him that Geralt might call a growl if it had come from anyone else. “I know that, I was being hyperbolic, you ass. You’re avoiding the issue.”

“We’re on the right path.” Another glint of white stone caught his eye, this time the edge of an arch wrapped nearly over in vines and moss. Only fragments remained, large chunks blending in with the forest floor.

“As if you would admit it if you were lost,” Jaskier griped, shoving a branch out of his own way. “Remember that time near Spikeroog? We were lost in a boat for three days because you wouldn’t just admit that we went west for six hours—”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, and pushed aside the last of the foliage.

Jaskier fell silent, and they both looked beyond the treeline into the clearing Geralt had revealed. Before them rose a silent, crumbling stone structure, pale as a ghost against the dark lines of the trees in the afternoon light. Much of its surface had been reclaimed already by the forest, but enough of it poked through to give a general sense of scale. It towered at least two stories above them, though the edges were uneven in a way that suggested it once may have been higher. The front facade rose in a flat wall before them, pierced by a line of arches, their edges decorated in fading but intricate reliefs. Here and there along the line of what had once been the path leading to the central arch, the occasional protrusion of a column could be seen. The path beyond the central arch was shadowed, too dark for even Geralt to see past after so long in the daylight.

Jaskier stepped forward into the narrow clearing, and Geralt followed. Wordlessly, Jaskier raised a hand to trail along the remnants of a low, circular stone wall, perhaps the remnants of an ancient well. When he looked up at Geralt, his eyes shone, two pieces of midday sky in the murky shade of the forest. “I stand corrected,” he said, offering Geralt a giddy grin.

Geralt shook his head with a small smile, drawing Roach further into the clearing. “Let’s set up camp here. You can explore when we have someplace to sleep.”

Jaskier agreed eagerly and they both launched into the process of setting up camp. They fell easily back into old patterns, Jaskier slotting seamlessly into Geralt’s routine. It was always easier to set up and break down camp when the bard was around, though Geralt thought it had very little to do with splitting the work halfway.

Within half an hour they had created a comfortable camp in the clearing and Geralt had Roach tended to, and they both stood before the dark archway into the ruins.

Jaskier hesitated over the threshold, his excitement over the history of the place apparently conceding to nerves. “Well, ah. After you, witcher,” he said, holding out an arm as if holding an imaginary door for Geralt to walk through.

Geralt rolled his eyes and stepped into the small hall beyond the archway, blinking a few times to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. “Come on, bard,” he called over his shoulder, amusement and affection swelling in his chest as he heard Jaskier mutter and quick footsteps follow after him.

The hall ended in a flight of stairs leading down, and they had to pause to light a torch when Jaskier ran directly into Geralt’s back and nearly knocked them both down it. A quick burst of igni had firelight dancing across the smooth white stones as they descended into the ruins.

Elves, Geralt had found, rarely built up. Though their cities had towered in ages past, their true magnificence had always lain below ground. The complex that they made their way down into was labyrinthian, huge open hallways with dozens of rooms and offshoots, archways that looked in on underground courtyards with pierced ceilings that let in the daylight, huge caverns expertly carved into cathedrals. Jaskier quickly brought out a bit of charcoal he often used for taking notes or sketching and began to mark their way with arrows pointing back the way they’d come, so they might not be hopelessly lost in the ruins. Geralt led them mostly by smell, at first; Triss had mentioned that any ritual chambers would likely be on the lower levels, as they were considered private and upper floors were generally public. He followed the cool, chalky scent of wet stone deeper into the ruins, down ramps and stairways until they were all but buried in the earth.

“I never knew the true breadth of them,” Jaskier breathed at one point, as they made their way down a winding spiral staircase that curved along what seemed like a natural cave shaft. “I’ve read, of course, about the scale of the old elven kingdoms, but it’s different to see it all. We’ve been walking for hours already and I feel as if there’s still miles to be seen.”

“Maybe not miles,” Geralt said, keeping one ear out for potential movement and one on Jaskier’s footsteps on the slick stone steps. “One’s I’ve been to before are usually somewhere around five and fifteen levels. We’re getting close to the bottom.”

Jaskier hummed in acknowledgment. “You could take an entire lifetime to study this place. Why hasn’t anyone surveyed it? How do you know the thing you're after for this ritual hasn’t already been taken?”

At that moment Geralt heard a gentle click, and he reached up just in time to pluck the arrow from the air as it hissed past his ear and towards Jaskier’s head. Slowly, he turned to look over his shoulder, finding Jaskier wide eyed behind him. Looking meaningfully down at Jaskier’s foot, he jerked his chin up.

Jaskier lifted up his foot, and the click of a pressure plate resetting filled the narrow space.

“That’s how,” Geralt said, tossing the arrow to the side.

“Of course,” Jaskier said weakly. “Of course the place is booby trapped.”

“And haunted probably,” Geralt agreed, continuing down the stairs. “Stay close. Wouldn’t want you to die before I can make you immortal.” The words were said as much in jest as he could make them, but he felt a brief strum of anxiety all the same.

Jaskier huffed in annoyance, but Geralt could feel him press even closer. He ignored the way that the air between them seemed to heat, the soothing warmth of Jaskier’s presence pressing back the dark more efficiently than any torch.

“Look,” Jaskier’s voice came from behind him. Geralt turned around to see Jaskier rubbing at a patch of the wall in the hall they were currently trekking through, the ancient slabs of stone crumbling a bit at his touch. “There’s writing here.”

Geralt stepped up next to him, feeling Jaskier’s warmth radiating along his side. Forcing himself to ignore the proximity, he leaned in to peer at the wall. “Elder, looks like. Can’t make it out.”

“It looks like one of the early northern dialects, closer to Laith aen Undod.” Jaskier scrambled in his small pack and pulled out his bit of charcoal and his notebook, handing the torch off to Geralt. Accepting the light, Geralt frowned at Jaskier as he made a few quick lines on the paper, referring back to the wall a few times. His tongue poked just barely out between his lips, as it always did when he was concentrating. After a moment he stood up straight, leaning towards the light to examine his own markings.

“Can you read that?” Geralt asked, genuinely surprised. He was fairly well versed in Elder, but his knowledge was more practical, learned from his interactions with the Scoia’tael and learning the Signs. The One Speech was well beyond his understanding, not to mention the various ancient dialects of Elder.

“Mm, I’m better at reading Elder than I am at speaking it, I’m afraid. Academic knowledge. Have to be able to translate the old poems and stories, after all.” He flashed Geralt a grin, the laugh lines deepening around his eyes. They sparkled in the light of the torch, turning the blue silver-gold. Geralt’s breath caught in his throat.

When Geralt didn’t respond quickly enough, Jaskier turned back to the notes he’d made on the paper. He muttered a few things to himself in Elder, the words sounding oddly musical—as if he’d learned to pronounce the language through song, which he probably had. Finally he scribbled a few notes in Common. “I think it’s a road sign, of sorts,” Jaskier said slowly. His tone took on the particular quality that Geralt had come to recognize as his “professor voice” over the years. He’d always found it rather amusing. “This complex must have been big enough to necessitate passage markers. See the sideways arrowhead under the top line? It says—well, I’m not sure, but I know the root has to do with the evening meal, so I’d guess it’s pointing to some kind of tavern or dining hall. And this one just says ‘sanctuary,’ I think. That’s a weird one, that symbol in more modern Elder just means ‘place’ but there’s a prefix here that adds a sort of defensive quality to it. Maybe ‘protected place’?” Jaskier frowned down at his own work. Already he had somehow managed to smudge charcoal across his cheek.

“Might be right,” Geralt grunted, impressed. “Triss said it would be in a safe place. ‘Ionad chosanta.’”

Jaskier hummed thoughtfully. “Could be as good a translation as any.”

“Better than wandering around,” Geralt shrugged, and turned towards the hall the arrow pointed towards. Before stepping into the darkness, he paused, looking back at Jaskier. Without letting himself think too hard about it, he reached up and rubbed away the charcoal on Jaskier’s cheekbone. The sweep of his thumb pushed back the soot and revealed the pale skin underneath, still so soft even after so many years spent traveling out in the elements. That skin care regiment Jaskier was always going on about must be worth something, he thought faintly.

Jaskier was silent, staring at him with an expression that reminded Geralt of a hare staring down the point of an arrow. Clearing his throat briefly, Geralt let his hand fall and said, “Thanks. For the… You did good.”

Even in the dim light, Geralt could see the flush that lit up Jaskier’s face at that, spilling prettily over his cheekbones. He gaped at Geralt for a moment before his mouth snapped closed with a near audible clack. Geralt expected a witty rejoinder of some kind, perhaps a jab at his historical inability to offer praise. He knew he deserved it, even if Jaskier meant it in anger rather than jest. Raising Ciri had taught him the value of voicing his appreciation and affection for others, even if he still struggled for the right words to do so. Yennefer had painstakingly beat it into his head. Ciri hadn’t known that he cared unless he said so, and so he had no other alternatives. Looking at Jaskier gaping at him, he wondered how many times Jaskier had assumed that Geralt cared little for him for lack of a kind word. His chest hurt at the thought.

After long enough that the silence had grown heavy and awkward, Jaskier coughed lightly, ducking to hide his expression. The ribbing Geralt had prepared himself for did not come. “Not a problem,” was all Jaskier said, brushing past him. “Let’s get a move on, yes? Don’t want the torch to run low.”

Geralt stared after him for a moment before shaking his head and following.

The shrine, when they found it, was hidden behind a thick patch of rubble that Geralt had to blast out of the way with a few precise applications of aard. He slipped inside first, sliding through the small opening in the stone and landing lightly on the other side. His eyes adjusted quickly to the gloom, to his surprise, and he realized that there were several glowing crystals embedded in the walls around him at even intervals. There came the sound of cascading stones and a low curse from behind him, and he turned in time to catch Jaskier’s elbow before the bard fell flat on his face.

“Ah, thank you, dear witcher,” Jaskier huffed, reaching up to fruitlessly brush the dust from his jacket. Looking up, he halted in his motions, taking in the room around them in its soft, ethereal light. “Oh,” he breathed.

It was indeed beautiful, even in its decaying state. Like everything in the tunnels, the structures were unmistakably elven, but even so they appeared alien to Geralt’s eyes. The walls were covered in delicate mosaic work, in patterns that danced in the flickering light of their torch and that of the crystals. The center of the room was dominated by a blank circle of unmarked stone, with Elder runes engraved along the edge that Geralt could not even begin to decipher. The circle was framed by a delicate canopy of carved white stone, supported on four pillars of the same material. The carvings were so minute that for a moment Geralt thought the entire structure might be built not of stone, but of some sort of webbing or silk. It was delicate enough to be blown glass, but when he set his hand against one of the pillars it was as unforgiving as a mountainside.

Jaskier ran his fingers along one of the walls, tracing a twist in the tiny shards of colored glass. “It’s beautiful,” he said, voice pitched low.

“Triss said these places were sacred to the Aes Sidhe. They mark where the elves first arrived,” Geralt said. He found his own gaze drawn back to the center of the unmarked circle beneath the canopy. “Here.”

Set into the very center of the stone circle was a small depression, no larger than Geralt’s palm. He stepped into the circle and knelt down, peering at it. Within the shallow bowl formed by the carved out floor sat an oval stone, maybe three inches long at its widest point. Drawing out his trophy knife, Geralt set the edge of it against the lip of the facet and twisted it. It popped out surprisingly easily, as if it was meant to be removed by design.

Jaskier hovered behind him as Geralt picked up the gaes carraigh. It was cool against his fingers, made of a translucent white stone that became more opaque at the edges. The center was nearly see-through, and when Geralt held it up the light played oddly in its depths. His medallion hummed faintly against his chest, warning him of the presence of magic. “Is that it?” Jaskier asked, resting one of his hands on Geralt’s shoulder to lean in closer.

“Think so,” Geralt replied, trying to ignore the weight of Jaskier pressed against him.

“What exactly does it do?” Jaskier reached out his free hand to press a finger against the center of the stone, curious as always. Geralt allowed it, and forced himself not to flinch when their fingers brushed incidentally. He could feel his ears warm regardless.

“It… binds the words of the ritual, or something. I didn’t ask.”

“Gaes carraigh… promise rock?” Jaskier tried, dropping to lean his full elbow on Geralt’s shoulder, casually slotting their forms together. His fingers barely brushed against Geralt’s collarbone, and he took a slow breath to maintain control over his heartbeat. Suddenly the proximity was overwhelming. Here they were, in a sacred space where possibly dozens of couples had made their vows to each other, fingers both lingering over the stone that would bind their oaths. In another life, perhaps they could have had something like this—Jaskier resplendent in the light of the blue crystals, eyes shining, looking at Geralt with adoration as they made their promises to each other. He would want to dress up, like he always did for a big event, but this time it would be only for himself and Geralt. Would he dress in blue? Or perhaps black, a witcher’s color, his pale skin like moonlight against the night sky. Would he wear a crown of periwinkle and sage, as was the northern custom? He would lean in close, like he was now, and murmur his vows to Geralt in words that flowed as smooth as a song.

He hadn’t known it was possible to want something so badly it was like a physical ache. Geralt was a witcher; he did not allow himself to think on things he couldn’t have. But here in this place, with Jaskier so close and yet so far away, the force of his desire felt oppressive. Jaskier didn’t know what any of this meant, and Geralt had no right to it, no right to want it. It was just a ritual. The context didn’t mean anything, because Jaskier would never feel that way about him.

After all, Geralt thought, looking down at the oathstone in his palm, who would want to marry a witcher?

Jaskier was still talking, and Geralt wrenched himself out of his thoughts when the arm on his shoulder pulled back and Jaskier patted the empty space once, as if in parting. “—probably get going, don’t you think? I do not relish the idea of being stuck here overnight. Not that I am not entirely confident in your abilities, darling, but I feel it’s best not to tempt fate when it comes to ghosts of ancient elven sages. Do you think they would count this as stealing? Probably. Anyways, I don’t want to find out what angry centuries old spirits do to trespassers.”

Geralt grunted, still gathering himself. He felt sluggish under the weight of his own emotions, pushing himself to his feet laboriously. The oathstone was heavy in his hand, and he slipped it into his potions pouch in the hope that it would feel less burdensome there. Without a word, he stood and exited the chamber the way they’d come, Jaskier fumbling after him.

#geraskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #witcher #fic #fanfic #writing #my work #me lamh #multichapter #big bang #geraskierbigbang

85 notes · View notes

tteokggukk · 3 years

Text

fireworks → knj

⭒ pairing: namjoon x reader

⭒ genre: fluff, friends to lovers

⭒ words: 1.1k

⭒ warnings: none

⭒ summary: it’s new year’s eve and you decide to ditch finding someone for a new year’s kiss. instead, you spend your time waiting for the fireworks with your best friend, namjoon, stalling and talking about how fireworks worked.

⭒ a/n: just wanna say i’m not a physics major asDAJSLK so pls don’t come for me ✌

permanent taglist: @100percent-dum-dum @boraength @rageyoudamnednerd

You've never felt this comfortable in weeks.

The night breeze felt cool on your skin as you watched the people below enjoying the festivities tonight during new year's eve. From the top of this hill, everything felt calmer. It was quieter, and there was no need to interact with all your other friends and acquaintances. It was just you, the night sky, the stars, and Namjoon.

He was busier these days but always made sure to make time for you. You assured him that you didn't need him to constantly stay by your side, you respected how hard he worked and was just grateful that you could talk to him anytime. Namjoon never listened though. He'd always arrive at the smallest of issues, ready to make you feel better. He'd take you on spontaneous museum dates and walks on nature parks, and even on late night drives.

Namjoon was the perfect description of a best friend.

Was, because the more time you spent with him, the more you began to notice the dimples on his cheeks every time he smiled, the way he explains just about anything with eloquence, and how he's always attentive when it comes to your needs. It definitely bothered you, because even his clumsiness was beginning to be endearing when it was something you used to tease him about nonstop.

In your eyes, Namjoon was slowly becoming more than just a friend.

You feel the heat begin to pool on your face at the thought of what he was starting to mean to you.

"Here," Namjoon covers you with his thick jacket when he notices you touching your cheeks, mistakenly thinking you were cold when really, you were feeling flustered, "You should've worn something thicker."

"That's why I have you," you tease, flashing him one of your cheesy smiles. Namjoon smiled at your words before looking up at the sky.

"What time is it?" He asks, not quite meeting your gaze. You catch the way he's fidgeting with his fingers and how he was on his toes swaying back and forth— one of the tells that he was nervous.

Why was he?

Your brow raises at his behavior. Checking the time on your watch, you jokingly ask, "A few minutes left 'til midnight. Why? Do you wanna leave?"

He looks down and laughs, stuffing his hands in his pockets, "Of course not, I wanna watch with you."

"You sure?"

"Yes, ____, there's nowhere else I'd rather be," he sends you a reassuring smile that immediately fills your body with warmth. You had to look away before you broke into a crazy-looking grin in front of him.

"What about you? I might be keeping you from a potential new year's kiss partner," Namjoon says teasingly as he leans on the fence, trying to act as normal as possible.

"Psh, please. Even if I were down there no one would wanna touch these lips," you snorted, "Instead, I'll annoy you by talking about how fireworks work."

"You wouldn't be annoying me because I'm actually looking forward to it."

Those words were nowhere close to a confession, maybe not even close to what might be hinted as a confession, but your heart still did several backflips at what you heard. It's safe to say you were now struggling to keep your cool even in this cold weather. You cleared your throat.

Before you could think of saying something clever, the sound of people counting completely grabbed your attention.

50 seconds left ‘til midnight.

Namjoon was fidgeting even more now, but you didn’t notice because of how occupied you were with the thought of fireworks.

"People are counting," Namjoon says followed by a nervous laugh.

"I know," you gulped.

Should you tell him? Or should you just shrug it off and talk about fireworks?

"So the way fireworks work can be explained by the law of conservation of energy, one of the most basic laws of physics," You start. Namjoon's eyes turn wide at the way you started explaining at lightning speed.

Maybe it’s best to keep these feelings to yourself.

"Before it ignites, it's total chemical energy must remain the same after it explodes. The energy is then released as light, heat, sound, and movement," you continued.

40 seconds.

While you went on talking about chemical energy, you unknowingly washed away the nervousness Namjoon previously felt by the sound of your voice.

He's realized this before, but everything was much clearer tonight. Every little thing he's done for you these past couple of weeks was done out of something more than friendship— and he knew. As you continued talking about the physics involved in fireworks, Namjoon knew all he wanted was to get lost in your eyes and listen to the sound of your voice forever.

"There's also an action-reaction involved because it gives off hot exhaust gases that fire backwards, creating an opposite equal reaction."

30 seconds.

"So tell me if I've got this right," Namjoon places his hands on your shoulders, "Law of conservation of energy?"

"Right," You nodded.

"Law of action-reaction."

"Right."

"And ____, I'm in love with you."

"Right— wait, what?"

You could feel your heat leaping out of your chest while he stared deeply into your eyes. Are you sure you heard him right? Or were you hearing things? You wanted to ask him to say it one more time just to be sure, but at this point it was impossible to even choke out your words.

"I'm in love with you. I have been all this time," Namjoon continues, "You're the first person I want to see at the end of a busy day and you're the only one I want to be with whenever we go to certain places. I'd go on endless night drives with you while listening to you talk about the physics involved in fireworks and other things and I'm— I'm just deeply, wholeheartedly, in love with you.”

“Ten, nine, eight…” The crowd below continues counting down, even louder this time. Namjoon continues searching your eyes, feeling afraid that you wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings. His hands fall from your shoulders, but he doesn’t leave.

“Namjoon, I’m in l--“

Just as you were about to confess, the sound of the crowd drowns out your voice.

“What?” Namjoon squints and leans closer to you, but the crowd only gets louder.

There was no point in trying to shout it out. With one last sigh, you decide to muster up all your courage to gently grab the fabric of his shirt to pull him even closer.

Three, two, one.

As the fireworks lit up the sky, all you could hear was the sound of your heartbeat while Namjoon’s soft lips were pressed against yours. You could feel each other smiling through the kiss while his large hands cupped your face, making you feel even warmer. When you two finally pulled away, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the shy grin on Namjoon’s face. The sound of your laugh leaves him wanting more as he pulls you in for another.

Looks like you got your new year’s kiss after all.

223 notes · View notes

lyracasstuff · 3 years

Text

I am NOT prepared to make myself sad,, you FRENCHIE!! ಥ⌣ಥ

However,, I will accept because as much as it pains me to write angst,, I also have to in order to improve my writing skills..

I'll do this in one shot/fic form as I feel as though I can convey emotions there better. That and I've been doing headcannons as of late,, so let's switch it up a notch..

WARNINGS: DEATH, BLOOD, SPOILERS FOR JOSEPH'S BACKSTORY

Joseph x fem! S/o

To be Sick at Heart💔

"How did this all happen?" thought the Frenchman, although it was more retorical, as he already knew deep down the answer to that question... He just can't accept it..

You had been an acquaintance to Joseph before, seeing as how your family served him, and the both of you only grew closer once you got caught in the twisted "games" of the manor. Joseph asked as to what had tempted you to accept the invitation of the manor.

It turns out, you were looking to find people who you can treat as your own family. In all your life, you practically had been treated like dirt, especially the time when Joseph had gone missing. Your family had given you love and acceptance, but it was short-lived seeing as how their lives were slowly taken from them early on in your life by sickness, you had no one but the other servants to take care of you.

The other servants cared for you, but not to the same extent as your family... You were aware of that fact as did they. So, when the invitation arrived, you couldn't help but accept right away.

It promised that "they" could fulfill your desire of having the bonds and relationships that you never had growing up, why wouldn't you accept? You would be missing out on a golden oppurtunity.

And so, that was how you ended up in this morbid manor, tricked and forced to participate in these "games" that gets everyone hurt much like every other survivor who came here...

Days had gone by. Weeks. Months. Hell, even years, and you were all still being forced to play.

Thankfully, you had everyone to keep you company during these times.. Thanks to your loving nature, you were able to be close with everyone in the manor, even those who are notorious at being secretive like Norton. You even managed to befriend some of the hunters as well.

But most especially of all, you were thankful you had Joseph to be there with you.

You were quite shocked when you saw the silver-haired count, as he had seemingly disappeared out of nowhere the last time. So to see him here made you pleasantly surprised.

Joseph as well felt shocked when he saw you here, albeit he took some time to figure who exactly you were as you looked extremely familiar to him.

It didn't take long for the both of you to grow close to each other where outside of matches, you two were practically inseperable. The both of you would be spotted having afternoon tea together, walking around the manor together, sightseeing for new photoshoot locations together.

You always did things together...

Over time though, you would grow feelings for the count and the same can be said for Joseph as well. However, your fears of being rejected has delayed the both of you from ever confessing about your feelings toward each other. The others in the manor can most definitely see your connection as bright as day, but they really didn't know how to go about helping you about it. After all, all of them never really had great experiences in their lives, so they don't know what would normally be best in a situation like this..

Despite this, you can't help but feel content and happy that you have found people that you can treat as your family. Emily and Michiko were like motherly figures to you with their kind nature. Leo treated you like his own daughter, much like how he treats Emma. Wu Chang, Andrew, Norton, Naib, and Eli were like big brothers for you, always being protective of you to keep you safe.

You really felt at home with all of the inhabitants. It almost felt as if being stuck in a manor wasn't so bad after all...

Almost

There was still one more thing you wanted to do. You had discovered your family, but you wanted to expand on that desire..

You wanted to start your own family

And you would want to do so with someone you love... That someone would be the Frenchman with whom you have grown immense feelings for.. So you sent him an invitation to go to the balcony of the garden at night, where you won't be disturbed by the others...

Unbeknownst to you, the Frenchman had been thinking the same thing, especially after reading the invitation you sent him. Can you blame him though? Seeing you interacting with him, along with all of the others, made him feel butterflies in his stomach. How you unconditionally helped the other inhabitants through their issues and suffering, not because you needed something from them, but because you wanted to. You wanted to help them, you wanted to nurture them, you wanted to support them...

With that feeling alone, Joseph finds that he just couldn't take it anymore... He wants to confess to you..

He wants to be with you, to call you his love, to marry you and call you his wife, and to start a family as well..

With that thought, he made up his mind and decided to accept your invitation, and there, he will confess..

It was night time, you were already at the balcony waiting, knowing that Joseph values punctuality and doesn't like to be kept waiting. Soon after, Joseph shows up. It seems as though he had been brisk walking which is evident by the way he's catching his breath in the slightest.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly and calmly began to confess your feelings towards him and how you wanted to start building a future with him as the father of your children.

Joseph was in awe, for he had never could've guessed that you felt the same way. He accepted, saying how he had always thought about you the same way, and that he would be honored to be the father of your children. Joseph took a few steps towards you, with you unconsciously doing the same. Joseph wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer, while you wrapped yours around his neck.

He lifted his hand and tilted your chin upwards to stare at your features, admiring them. The way your skin glistened in the moonlight, how your eyes sparkled with life when he stared at them. How your cheeks were flushed with the slightest hint of color.

You looked angelic to him.

Brushing his thumb over your lower lip, he slowly closed his eyes as he allowed his lips to connect with yours.. You can't help but reciprocate immediately, you'd been waiting for this moment to come. You truly felt happy that you took the risk to confess to him, knowing that he may have rejected you instead.

And that was the start of your blossoming relationship...

For the next few years, the two of you became more and more in love with each other every single day. Countless affirmations of love, bouquets of your favorite flowers, numerous cuddling sessions, along with the discussion of having a domestic life together..

You two really had the potential to have a wonderful life together...

But, there are repercussions in growing fond of the potential...

One time at a match, you had been feeling dizzier and more nauseous by the second, so much so that it frequently disoriented you from kiting the hunter properly. At some point even, you threw up a bit. Your team still won the match since the hunter decided to go friendly in the end because of your condition, however they were still concerned for you so they sent you immediately to Emily.

You were diagnosed to be pregnant..

Your thoughts immediately went to Joseph. A mixture of joy and anxiousness washed over you. Can be a good mother for your child? Can you really do this? Can you really start a family like you had promised? What if you do something wrong? What if you're not cut out for this?

Just as your thoughts began to generate more questions, Joseph runs in and looks over to you with wide eyes. Emily must've told him that you were pregnant with his child. He immediately went towards your bed and hugged you as he sobbed his heart out.

He was so convinced that the bright future you two head towards is certain...

Oh, how a fool he was for believing so....

2 months in and your belly hasn't been growing rapidly.. Normally, you would've had a small baby bump forming on your belly... Joseph and Emily had been constantly reassuring you that you might need to readjust your diet more to fit your baby's needs....

But, that's not the only thing bothering you...

You see, just as you haven't "developed" your baby, your dizziness and nausea didn't go away. For quite sometime, you thought it was normal.....

Until you see tiny specks and droplets of blood on your hand...

That's when you realize....

You're not actually pregnant.. You're sick...

Having this sudden realization, you quickly washed your hand and looked at yourself in the mirror... Maybe this was some sort of mistake? Maybe you're actually pregnant and you just scratched the inside of your cheek?

You were hoping. Praying, that it was anything else other than a sickness... However, as time passed, you felt yourself growing weaker and weaker...

For months, you had kept this sickness of yours a secret. You didn't want to make anyone worry about you and you especially didn't want to disappoint Joseph with the fact that you're not actually carrying a baby or make him devastated with your death just as he became devastated with his twin brother's death...

However, try as you may, the longer you kept it a secret, the more the others noticed. How your skin was getting paler, how your cheeks had started to sink in, how you became alarmingly skinnier and bonier, how your eyes became more dull and lifeless...

Most importantly, at how you became increasingly more secretive and quiet about all this.

Joseph was by far being more and more anxious than before. He didn't know what was happening. He wasn't an expert in medicine, but even he could notice that this isn't normal for a pregnancy..

Quickly carrying you to Emily, he asked for a check-up to see what was happening. You would've stopped him if it weren't for the fact that you were so weak, you couldn't move a muscle without hurting it.. There, he was informed about the condition you're in. He was just as shocked as you are, but there's a mixture of fear and hopelessness bubbling inside him...

No. He couldn't let this happen. Not again...

His breathing starts going rapid, his hands start shaking, he hugs himself as he looks at you at your weakened state with tears threatening to spill from his eyes...

Just as he was about to confront you, Victor had entered and pointed towards the main hall, signaling Joseph and Emily to go there.

Apparently, there's a meeting that's going to be held.

Joseph and Emily looked at each other before turning to look at you. Then, they quickly left the room, with you all alone inside with nothing but your thoughts and the life within you.. Or, what's left of it...

The meeting started once Joseph and Emily arrived as they were the only ones left to attend. Emily had to quickly explain your condition when some of the others questioned your whereabouts.. All were quite shocked and concerned about your sickness, however the meeting was said to be an important one so they had to stay. They'll just have to relay the information given to you by the time it's done..

After the meeting, everyone was so shocked and confused that for several moments, no one said a word.. Who wouldn't though? Because after all this time...

They were all finally free

Free from the clutches of the manor, free from the twisted "games", free from the prison that presented itself as a grand oppurtunity for everyone to get what they want.

They were free at last... Now, they can all live their lives as they want it to be...

Suddenly realizing this, Joseph quickly made his way back to your room. There was still hope he thought, he had hoped for you to get better and finally leave this prison together, along with the others.

But what he saw when he opened the door made him feel like his heart had been crushed into a million pieces...

There in your room, was you lying in your bed, breath shallow and rapid, crimson blood dripping from the side of your mouth and staining the sheets, your eyes looking duller and duller as ever...

You were grasping..

Grasping for whatever life you had left within you, it made Joseph run to your side quickly as he cradled your head in his arms, proclaiming you'll be fine and that you're all free now and that you just need to hold on for a little while longer..

But you both know that you won't make it..

You both know that Joseph is more so convincing himself, than convincing you..

The others had rushed in to see you, and they too were crushed for they also wished for you to escape with all of them...

You held Joseph's hand, and told him not to worry anymore.. Looking towards the others, you proclaimed that you had finally found the people that you can call your family, and that even if Joseph can't see you, you'll always be there for him no matter what.. And that you wish for him to be happy and enjoy his newfound freedom, without the confinements of the manor...

Joseph begged you to stay, to hang on, to stay strong, all while sobbing uncontrollably but to no avail...

You withdrew your final breath as your hand became limp, your eyes closed, and your body going cold...

...

You had died

For the second time in his life, he once again witnessed the death of someone he deeply cared about..

First Claude......... And now, you....

Joseph lost it as he let all his tears and sadness out.. Everyone, soon followed suit. They can't help but be crushed at the thought of their friend never making it on time for the escape....

The now former inhabitants of the manor prepared one last funeral in honor of your death, with Aesop embalming you, Andrew preparing the hole from which will forever be your resting place, Emma preparing the funeral flowers, while the others prepared the venue... The Red Church.. Everyone gathered and mourned for your death. By the end of it all, everyone left the cemetery and the manor together, with Joseph gripping a bar of the gate, longing to see you again once more and hoping that you were still alive somehow...

Alas, it never came. And so, he reluctantly left the manor and had trenched forward to live his life "to the fullest"...

But how can he ever live his life as he pleases when you're not around? How can he simply enjoy the pleasures of life when you aren't there to accompany him? How can he move on when he doesn't want to forget you?

These thoughts plague him constantly, as he stirs his tea mindlessly, looking into the distance, as his new "family" were chatting happily, not knowing what goes on inside his head..

He has a family now alright, but it wasn't perfect.. It wasn't with you.

That thought is enough to make him sick at heart, for he will never experience the joy he had longed for when you were still around...

Sick at Heart : to experience deep unpleasant emotions such as grief or disappointment

💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞💔🎞

Author's Note: I hope you are all satisfied with this angst, Frenchie... Because you really made my day a bit sadder than usual..

Can someone pls request something fluffy the next time I open my requests?? I need some comforting chocolate cake after that bitter black coffee moment..(╥_╥)

Well,, until next time then! See you all in my next post!! (Ｔ▽Ｔ)💚

#identity v #identity v x reader #identity v oneshots #idv #identity v imagines #idv x reader #identity v photographer #identity v joseph #idv photographer #idv joseph #joseph desaulnier #joseph desaulnier x reader #joseph desaulniers x reader

133 notes · View notes