Beads of sweat formed at the top of your forehead while you tapped your pen against the wooden desk of the auditorium. The sun burned hot outside, making the room a strange mix of moist and the kind of warm-dry that made you wanna bang your head against the wall. You glanced at your phone again— 5PM. Still an hour of class left. But how could you focus on fucking psychology and the stupid Oedipus complex when you knew that in less than an hour you’d be seeing your girlfriend.

Your relationship with Van was still relatively new. You managed to strike up conversation with her after renting the same copy of “But I’m a Cheerleader” over and over again. Were there other ways to get her attention? Probably. But she was yours now and that’s what mattered.

You let your mind wander for the rest of the class— you stopped listening twenty minutes ago anyway. Wander to how her skin feels on yours, the first time she kissed you outside your local gay bar. How she, despite your various protests, always managed to pay the tab when the two of you went out for drinks— going as far as bribing the waiter.

You missed her, you wondered what she was doing right now. Had she left the shop yet to come pick you up? Or, was she using those same fingers of hers you loved so much to organise the various VHS tapes she owned.

The sun burned hot on your skin while you waited for Van’s Jeep to pull up to the side of the building. You glanced sideways and saw one of the girls in your class side eyeing you— but it wasn’t just any girl, it wasn’t just any ordinary classmate taking Psych I, it was the same insufferable blonde that always went to Van’s video store to make eyes at her. It made you sick.

A loud honk snaps you out of your tamper tantrum and you’re met with a Jeep Grand Wagoneer right in front of you, with one smiley redhead inside. Your eyes meet the blonde girls’ ones before you open the door and— without so much as a hello— place a hard kiss on Van’s mouth before shutting the door behind you. A deep, hot pit of jealousy and something akin to pride settling deep inside your gut.

Van chuckled at the unexpectancy of the kiss— but she didn’t pull you away, didn’t even say anything before she started driving away. She only spoke once you were settled on the passenger's seat. Eyes trained on the road ahead.

“So, wanna tell me what that was about?” She teased, a shy smile making its way onto her pale lips.

“What was what?” You ask innocently, you realise that you’ve been caught, embarrassingly so. But you weren’t about to let her win this so damn easily. You still had your pride and some of your dignity.

“The whole kissin’ me like that thing? Hey I’m not complainin’ just curious is all” Van offers. Waving a white flag in all directions, a peace offering, for those with eyes to see.

You bite your lower lip and ponder telling her the truth, telling her that you were jealous— probably irrationally so. But you didn’t want her to be mad at you. Didn’t want her to think you were some possessive freak. But, you also knew a relationship couldn’t be built on lies. So, against your better judgement, you told her about the blonde girl on the steps of your college, the same one that was on Van’s shop the other day, making eyes at her.

Van looked at you for two solid seconds before bursting out laughing, her head hit the head rest behind her while her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, you could tell she was trying her damned hardest to calm down and not crash the car.

But you weren’t laughing, you didn’t think it was funny and she stopped laughing once she realised you were serious about this— or, well, tried to, at least. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry it’s not funny. It’s not! Ok, it is… a little bit. I mean— I couldn’t even tell you what her name is and here you are imagining epic Oscar winning romances.” She lets out another dry chuckle. Like it had been stuck in her throat “I’m sorry, I really am.” Van confessed between broken fits of laughter.

“You’re always all smiley at her!” You protest further, losing your credibility in the process.

“Baby, I’m ‘smiley’ as you put it with everyone, that's how business works can’t be all stone faced at the counter otherwise folks won’t come in. Doesn’t mean I’m interested in… whoever that was…”

You don’t respond. And sulk further down the leather seat.

Van sighs, loudly. One of her hands leaves the soft material of the steering wheel and finds its place in the middle of your thigh. “C’mon baby will you lighten up?” Van begged, a hint of exasperation coating her otherwise melodic voice.

Your eyes find hers and your lips curl into a shy smile. You feel a wave of heat coating your face— having a delayed reaction to your own stupidity. Van would never do that. She couldn’t. She’s too soft. Too trusting. Too loving. Like a golden retriever— almost.

You interlock your fingers with hers and rest your hand there, in the middle of your own leg. One. Two. Three seconds before you start guiding her hand over the expanse of your jean covered thigh, until her fingers are grazing the zipper of your trousers.

Van’s eyes leave the road for a second too long in order to look over the expanse of your body. Her face went from concentration to hot, all consuming lust. “You’re gonna make me stop the car aren’t you?” She asks, more to herself than to you.

You don’t respond. And she doesn’t speak further before parking the jeep by the side of the road. Van unlocks your seatbelt in a fast, trained, fluid motion before your legs are placed on each side of her open legs.

The head rest makes a thump noise when your lips collide with hers, a kiss so fervent it could match the millions you’ve seen on screen with her sitting beside you on the couch. Your tongue finds her bottom lip, running over it and poking at her mouth for entrance. Once given, your tongues interlock in a familiar dance of heat, the same dance you’ve been at for months, the one you’d gladly be in for the rest of your life.

“See.” Van starts, her nose running over the skin of your neck, like a sharpie drawing over a rough piece of paper. “Nothing to be jealous of, gorgeous.” She finishes, her lips closing over your pulse point.

You feel your eyes close while she works her magic on your neck. Your hips press further into hers, drawing out whatever friction you can get from the rough material of your trousers hitting your center when the angle is just right.

Van chuckles at your struggle, darkly. More sardonic than usual. “Let me help you out sweetheart.” She whispers close to your ear, before removing both your jeans and your panties in one swift motion.

Your underwear ends up tangled in your trousers somewhere in the back seat while you’re left half straddling Van wearing nothing but your bra and a white tank top. Van hums, a mix of certainty and delight before she palms your sides and makes you sit in one of her thighs and… Wait. When did her jeans come off?

Your wet cunt makes contact with the taught skin of her pale thigh before you’re moving up and down the smooth expand of her skin. Your pussy grows wetter by the minute while your juices spread over her skin. Marking her. Making her yours for all to see— or at least the cars that are on that same road.

“Still jealous, gorgeous?” Van asks, more mocking than pure unbridled curiosity.

You don’t respond, you can’t, too focused on grinding up and down her leg. The sensation is good. Really good and some sick possessive part of you likes marking her with your slick. But it’s not enough and you’re growing frustrated— stuck in a weird place where the stimulation you’re receiving is simply not enough.

Van notices this, she always notices everything. Perfect, attentive, lovable idiot she truly is. Her hands go from your ass to the middle of your waist holding you up so her hand could slip inside you. You go slack on the spot, the tension on your shoulders dissipate while your head tilts back and your lips part in an “O” shape.

Van pumps her fingers inside you, all practiced strokes and smooth movements while she explores your insides with such tender care that it would bring the you from a couple months ago to tears.

Her palm finds your clit, applying pressure to the little bundle of nerves while her middle and index finger pump inside your body.

The dual stimulation makes your orgasm over her fingers in record time, covering another part of her body with your juices. Leaving them sticky and iridescent to the sun that pokes from the glass windows of her car. She removes her fingers from inside of you carefully, before presenting them to you. Waiting for you to clean up your mess.

Your lips find her digits almost immediately. Wrapping around her fingers and sucking off your own arousal like you were born and raised to do it. You swipe your tongue over each crevice of her fingers, not leaving one drop behind. The erotic scene makes your hips start up their grinding motion against her thigh again. Moving on their own accord on top of Van’s naked skin while cars passed by the two of you.

Van looked down at the spot where your cunt met her bare skin, her lips curled into a half smile. “Never satisfied are you?” She asked, with no malice in her voice.

“Shut up.”

Was all you said before resuming your movements atop Van’s naked thigh.

🏷️ @glassypze @wond3rland13 @mchailover @marieeme @fragileweirdooo @conamoney-11 @vanpalmersnumberonefan @watersapple @alyversev @sillyemanusz @ludoesartandstuff @mangoslayy9 @stupidcupid28 @ilovelightningmcqueen @lovekenney

You were already lying on her bed when Van walked back into her room, tank top off, sports bra discarded somewhere on the floor. Her mouth had that crooked grin, the one she used when she was being smug, or when she was about to do something she knew you’d never forget.

Your stomach fluttered. Not from nerves, not really, more like anticipation wrapped tight with want. Firsts weren’t something you rushed with someone like Van. She took her time, even when she teased like she wouldn’t.

“You look nervous,” she said, standing at the edge of the bed, arms crossed under her bare chest. “You should be.”

You gave her a look. “Real comforting, Van. Thanks.”

She laughed, but it was low and quiet, and she leaned down, climbing onto the bed to straddle your hips. “I’m kidding. Kind of.” Her fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face, then curled under your jaw. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “You’re the one who begged me to sleep over.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, voice dropping as her eyes scanned your face. “Because I love sleeping.”

She kissed you before you could say anything else, slow at first, a test, her hand on your cheek and her body settling against yours like she was already memorizing how you fit together. Then deeper, her mouth moving with more heat, tongue brushing yours, her other hand slipping down between your bodies.

“You ready?” she asked, whispering the words against your jaw. “We don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you said, breath catching. “I do.”

She pulled back enough to see your face, eyes serious now beneath all that nonchalance. “You tell me if anything hurts, okay?”

You nodded.

“And you tell me if you want to stop.”

You nodded again, softer this time. “Okay.”

Van kissed you again, then got up, crawling off the bed and walking to her drawer like she’d done this before, like she was cool and calm, but her hands weren’t as steady as usual when she buckled the harness, and her ears were pink.

She caught your gaze in the mirror and smirked. “What? Don’t act like you’re not into this.”

You snorted. “You’re not subtle, Palmer.”

“Never said I was.”

She climbed back onto the bed, her hands warm on your thighs as she settled between them. The toy stood proud against her stomach, black and thick and intimidating, but her voice was soft again when she looked down at you. “Breathe. I’ll go slow.”

The first touch was careful, fingers first, her mouth still on yours as she coaxed your body open, whispering quiet praise in between the teasing.

“Already soaked for me?” she murmured, mouth at your ear. “Fuck, you are easy.”

You let out a breathy sound, part embarrassed, part turned on, your hips twitching under her. “Van—”

“I like it,” she said, grinning now. “You think I don’t get off on knowing I make you feel like this?”

She pushed in slow, the toy thick and filling, her hand gripping your hip to steady you. You gasped, legs tensing, but her other hand came up to cradle your face.

“You’re okay,” she said, her voice dipping into something lower, sweeter. “You’re doing so good.”

Your fingers gripped her forearm, grounding yourself as she rocked her hips once, gently, experimentally, and the stretch made you whimper.

“There she is,” Van breathed. “Taking me so well.”

She moved a little more now, each thrust careful but more certain. Her eyes never left your face, watching every expression like she was studying you, like nothing else mattered but how you felt.

“You want it faster?” she asked, breath catching a little. “Want me to fuck you like I’ve been dreaming about all week?”

You moaned, nails digging into her skin. “Yes.”

She grinned. “I knew you were filthy.”

And she gave it to you— slow at first, then faster, deeper, fucking you into her sheets while her hand slid under your shirt to cup your breast, thumb brushing your nipple until you arched under her.

Eventually you cry out, unraveling under her touch, your body clenching around the strap as Van rocks you through it. Her movements slow, deliberate again, like she wants to drag it out. Like she wants to make sure you remember exactly who made you feel like this.

She kissed you through it, through the breathy sounds you made, through the way your body shook around her. She didn’t stop until your legs trembled and your hands clutched at her shoulders.

When she finally pulled out and collapsed beside you, sweaty and breathless, her arm came around your waist, tugging you close.

You curled into her, heart still pounding.

Van pressed a kiss to your temple. “Told you you’d survive.”

You laughed into her neck. “Barely.”

“Worth it though?”

You tilted your head up to meet her smug grin. “Yeah. Worth it.”

Van brushed your hair back, fingers soft now. “Good. ‘Cause next time, I’m not going so easy on you.”

You flushed, but you didn’t look away. “Promise?”

Her eyes darkened a little, a grin on her lips. “You really are filthy.”

“Yes Van!” Your breath was visible as you cheered at a great save by the keeper, sitting on the bleachers in the cold morning air. It started off simple, going to watch your friend’s games as an excuse to get out of the house, something you didn’t do often enough. She liked having a ride there, and admittedly it was nice knowing someone was at the game for her.

So, you found yourself there week in and week out, sitting amongst the crowd watching her, cheering when her team had won, and smiling when she found you after the game. Though it became a little more difficult when you started smiling wider each time.

You made your way to the sideline, Van meeting you halfway, still in her gear.

“Good game, Palmer.” She punched your arm in response - softly, but it might as well have been with full force, feeling your skin burn at the contact.

“Thanks, give me a minute, then we’ll get out of here?” You nodded, watching her flash a toothy grin and turn away to head to the locker room. It had become tradition to get food afterwards, initially another reason to avoid your home lives, but it quickly turned into something you were excited for.

You couldn’t help but find her endearing, the way she talked about her favourite movies and laughed at the jokes that no one else seemed to get. You had begun to think about her more often than not.

“Hey, wake up! Someone’s gotta drive me around and it’s not going to be me.” You snapped out of your thoughts, finding Van standing in front of you, dressed in fresh clothes and staring at you expectantly. She could drive herself, she just didn’t have the car, aside from some junk of a truck she claimed to be working on.

You rolled your eyes, struggling to ignore the familiar flutter in your chest as you walked side by side through the carpark.

You tried not to laugh too hard as she pondered, in all seriousness, about where to get food, listing all the places she could “force” you to take her. You reached your car, putting her debate to an end with a sigh.

“Are you done? I’ve got a leftover pizza and an empty house, just come to mine.” She shrugged in approval, that option good as any - cheaper too.

You drove back to yours, focusing on the road in an attempt to ignore her gaze while she recounted the match, as if you hadn’t been there watching.

The reason your dynamic worked so well was partially due to how much she talked and how little you did. You could happily sit and listen to her speak all day, admiring the way she passionately lit up. That’s just the way you liked it.

“Then their winger, pretty girl with the ribbons, took a shot but obviously I saved it, and-“ your chest tightened at the word. Pretty. She was pretty, but hearing Van say it still made your grip on the steering wheel double. The worst part about crushing on your closest friend was when you were reminded of how that’s all you were.

She must have noticed a change in your demeanour, mumbling off until you were driving in silence.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

“Cold? What am I, an animal?” Van feigned disapproval as you dropped the pizza box in between you two on your bed.

“Please, I’ve seen you eat worse.” She scoffed in agreement, a slice already half-eaten in her hand. You could still feel the tension lingering, somehow unable to let the jealousy go like you normally could.

God, all she did was call a girl pretty… and she was pretty! Your jaw clenched between bites, zoned out and staring at your crossed legs.

“Dude… are you good?”

Shit.

You flicked your eyes up at hers, a teasing yet concerned look on her face, snapping you out of it real quick.

You should just be grateful she’s your friend.

“Uh… yep all good, just remembered I have some English homework to finish.” It’s not a complete lie, you really did, but it was only an excuse to hide the fact you were feeling unreasonably jealous over the tiniest thing.

“Who cares about that?” She shrugged, her smirk increasing as she looked at you, “we have bigger problems, like who’s gonna eat the last slice.”

You rolled your eyes, relieved she dropped the topic - whether she believed you or not.

Smiling, you grabbed the pizza, “me, duh.”

Van gasped in offence, quickly leaning to grab it out of your hand, falling and pushing both of you backwards onto your mattress. She was practically on top of you, one hand on your wrist, the other next to your head as she stared down at you. You felt goosebumps travel up your sides, her legs on either side of your hips, trapping you.

She was too close, surely able to notice the redness growing on your cheeks, the way you instinctively licked your lips.

“Fine, just take it. I really should do that homework…” your words came out panicked, eyes wide before she rolled onto her back next to you.

“Geez, it’s not like I was going to kiss you.” She was trying to joke, you knew that, but her horrible misinterpretation of your panic only made you feel worse.

“Right.”

You settled at your desk, barely focusing on your homework as Van flipped through your collection of cds to fill the silence. You felt her staring at your back, fighting every urge to turn and look at her.

She finally settled on your bed again, remaining mostly quiet other than a couple murmured song lyrics.

By the time you were done, you found her asleep. Your cat - God knows when he got there, purring next to her.

Oh?

She’d only been at your house a handful of times, never long enough to take a nap. Sure, you two were close, but this was new.

You couldn’t wake her, not when she looked so peaceful. Instead, you put on a softer cd, grabbed a book, and sat carefully on your bed next to her. Deciding to distract yourself by reading instead of watching her like some creep.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

You noticed her finally starting to stir from the corner of your eye, closing your book as she sat up. You couldn’t help the faint blush on your face as you watched her wake up, her eyes readjusting to the afternoon sun, brushing her hair out of her face.

She was pretty. The kind of boyish pretty that maybe made the feelings you had for her ok. But you knew that’s not how it worked; she was still your best friend.

“I completely passed out, huh? I’m sorry, you should’ve woken me.”

You shook your head dismissively, you really didn’t mind, plus, it was better than the awkward tension from before.

Checking the time, her eyebrows furrowed as she cursed under her breath.

“I’ll drive you,” you offered like she had other options, and she thanked you as if she wasn’t going to force you anyway.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

To your relief, the tension was forgotten as you drove, listening to her talk, this time about a party one of her teammates was hosting.

“You should come, it’ll be fun!”

Van was about ten times more extroverted than you, and you knew she had good intentions, but you weren’t sure you’d be up for it.

Parties were fine until Van was busy socialising with everyone she could, leaving you to awkwardly stand around and hope to run into another friend.

She could see your hesitation, pushing your arm gently as her voice turned more teasing, “come onnnnn, maybe you’ll meet someone.”

Your face flushed, that’s the opposite of what you wanted. You wouldn’t meet anyone you were interested in, instead, you were afraid she would.

She was often sought out by girls at parties, either as some demeaning experiment or just a good time. Meanwhile you were shrugging off anyone who tried to come near you, waiting for Van to reappear, pretending you didn’t know what she was doing for your own sake.

“No thanks.” You shook your head, dismissing the idea, the whole thing making you feel ill with jealousy again.

She sighed, unsure why you were acting so closed off.

And just like that, the tension had returned, creating a thick, uncomfortable silence until you pulled up to her house. You refused to look at her, sitting facing ahead, half expecting her to just get out and leave without a word.

“Ok seriously. What’s up with you? You’ve been acting weird all day, did I do something?”

No, she hadn’t done anything wrong, it was all you and your dumb brain. You had no right to be jealous, no excuse for the possessiveness you felt.

“I-“ you didn’t know what to say, turning your body to face hers but still avoiding her gaze.

“Did I make you uncomfortable before? I’m sorry if-“

“No. No, Van, not at all,” you didn’t want her to think that about herself, blushing at the memory, “it’s just… I hate the way you talk about pretty girls and how you run away at parties doing God knows what with God knows who. It shouldn’t, but it makes me feel like shit.”

You finally looked up at her, wishing your seat would swallow you whole after your nervous word vomit.

“What, you’re jealous?” She asked like it was unfathomable, still not quite getting the point. “You’ll meet someone, I’m telling you. You just have to go out and actually talk to people.”

Were you jealous of her? No. Were you jealous of the girls she got with? Yes… very much so.

“No, Van.”

There was no going back, feeling your heart pound as you spoke, watching her every expression.

“I don’t want to meet someone. I’m not jealous that you find pretty girls at parties and kiss them. I wish… just... I like you... why can't it be me with you?"

You’d done it now. Spilt your guts and probably lost the best friendship you’d ever had. You would’ve run if you weren’t in your own car, internally cringing as you watched the way Van seemed to process your words.

“Oh.”

“Never mind… I’m sorry,” you apologised before she could say anything else, offering to drive her home again. But she grabbed your wrist before you could turn back in your seat.

She leant over to reach you, her face close to yours. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite decode.

“You want me to kiss you? That’s why you’ve been in a shitty mood?” Her voice was soft, inching closer to you without breaking eye contact.

Your eyes fluttered closed as her hand moved to hold your chin. “It’s stupid…” looking back up at her, hoping that if you dismissed it, it would all go away.

“Doesn’t sound stupid to me.” She was smiling again, that familiar smirk on her lips. “Now do you want me to or not?”

You paused, eyes wide with shock before softly nodding against her hand, of course you did. Your eyes flicked down to her mouth as you met her halfway, feeling her lips graze yours tentatively.

It was soft - better than you’d imagined, and you couldn’t stop a muffled sigh from escaping against her lips. Her hand moved up your face, settling on your cheek while the other rested gently on your knee.

Grabbing a fistful of her t-shirt, you readjusted yourself to move closer to her, overwhelmed by the way her tongue brushed against your lower lip.

She pulled back just enough to look at you, your heart nearly exploding in your chest as she tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“Happy now?”

You laughed but the blush on your face gave yourself away.

She could tell it was more than just simply wanting her to kiss you, the feelings going deeper than that.

Your skin felt a little colder as you lost her touch, the redhead dropping back into her seat.

“You could’ve just asked, you know?”

Still a flustered mess, you watched her sit back, that dumb smirk of hers returning.

You noticed her fiddling with her hands the way she did when she was nervous. “I didn’t think you liked girls like that… I didn’t think you liked me like that.” Her voice was quiet as she confessed, “I would’ve jumped at the chance earlier if I did.”

You blushed an even deeper red at her words.

“Well, I do like you like that.” It was her turn to blush and your heart ached at the way she looked at you.

“I think I’d like to kiss you again.”

“Really?” You barely believed her words, even as she leant over to your seat again.

She laughed at your disbelief, “yes, idiot.”

Her hand snaked around to rest at the back of your neck, pulling you closer, still searching for any sign of hesitation.

When she found none, her eyes dropped down to your lips, licking her own before she closed the distance between the two of you.

It was a little rougher the second time around, less uncertain as her other hand found your own, holding it tightly. You gasped into her mouth at the way she gripped your hair, allowing her to deepen the kiss.

You were a little dizzy when you pulled away, resting against her forehead, still processing how any of it was real.

“Let me take you out. I’m tired of dragging you to my games just as an excuse to see you.”

You nodded in agreement, and by that point, the blush on your face might as well have been permanent.

She let out a breath of relief, glad you were on the same page. You watched her as she shut her eyes, pressing against you before pulling away, squeezing your hand only to let go.

She hopped out of your car with a promise to call you.

You watched her walk off, lips burning and craving her. You didn’t miss the way she subtly turned to smile at you, she could clearly tell how insane she was driving you, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

taglist 💌: @callsignwidow

We stood in a circle, but it didn’t feel like one. Circles are supposed to be safe. Closed. Equal. This wasn’t that. It was uneven, jagged—like the shape had been broken and hammered back into place. Cold seeped through the animal skin and unusual outfits that everyone wore during their hunts.

My fingers itched against the hilt of the dull knife at my side. Not to use it. Just to feel it. To have a sense of safety I shift my left foot to my right fidgeting with my fingers on my left hand

Mari was across from me. Her hair was pulled back, jaw locked, eyes half-lidded in that way that looked bored but meant the opposite. She always looked like she was about to say something sharp. I meet her eyes.

We weren’t touching. But she kept glancing at me, and I kept looking back.Everyone knew about us. We weren’t secret. But I don’t need to be with her all the time I can feel her presence from a mile away like she’s a part of me, a part of my soul.

A wind moved through the trees—long, low, curling—and the sound of it stirred something deep in the group. The way dogs start whining before a storm.

misty took a step forward. The deck was in it. Worn playing cards, stained in places I didn’t want to think too hard about.Everyone quieted. You could feel the silence pressing down on our skin.

One by one, the cards started to pass.

I watched each girl as she drew—quiet, cautious, fingers twitching as they turned the cards over looking at it then turning it to the group. each time i see their face relax, like a weight has been lifted off they’re shoulders. i could just feel a bigger weight on mine. my chances to get the card are higher.

van first, then natalie, lottie. who almost looked disappointed, taissa.

And then it came to Mari’s turn. but Shauna steps beside her and Taissa.

“Shauna you don’t have to take any extra risk. you can go back to you’re spot. ”taissa spoke

shauna smirks, tilting her head slightly. “how’d you get into AP stats? it doesn’t change the odds. besides. i trust whatever it wills. Misty, keep going.” she looks back to the group. Mari spoke up. “No, go back to your spot. That’s not how this works, you get what you get.” Shauna grins at her, and looks eyes with you. she knows something. her shit eating grin doesn’t flatten. “Misty, the cards.”

Her hand didn’t hesitate.

she took the card holding it up to the group, a smug look on her face. she’s safe. Mari gives her a nasty look.

Mari looked at me.

Just for a second.

Then, without a word, she reached her hand forward. grabbing the card, her breath stuck in her chest. But, Her expression didn’t change. She turned it over with two fingers. The motion was almost lazy.

The Queen of Hearts stared up at us.

And nobody breathed. van gave her a sorrowful look. Mari almost wanted to put the card back and refuse to play. like a little kid you say’s they’re not playing anymore after they get tagged.

“Oh…tough break. Mar. take off your cape.” the steps in-front of her. a nasty look on her face. Mari bite her lip, looking at me. Almost like she needs reassurance, but I can’t help. she begins to untie her cape. refusing eye contact as Shauna put’s what once was the lucky necklace that jackie gave her, now is just full of bloodshed. she start’s to count, Smiling.

“one…Two.” Mari lounges at her with a knife she swiped from Shauna’s side, as van and some others hold Shauna back. while gen, Akilah and me help Mari up from the ground she was just thrown on. my hand goes right to her’s. she returns the gesture with a squeeze. “you’re going to be fine, okay. every thing will be fine.” i say breathing heavily. I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince me or her that it’s going to be okay. “Better Me then you, right?” she pulls me into a short hug the side of my cheek resting on her shoulder.

Lottie speaks up. “Three, Four, Five, Six….” She look’s towards Shauna who lets out a small laugh.

Mari cuts Lottie and Shauna off. “You deserve everything that’s coming to you!” she let’s go of my hand, running towards the wood’s. Mari didn’t look back as she began her sprint, weaving through the trees with that eerie, calculated grace. Her figure was a blur of movement.

Lottie Keeps counting as everyone sits there and watches.

everyone gets there weapons. i don’t move to grab any, i don’t need any.

Mari is far ahead of me.

She always is, in some way or another—quicker with comebacks, faster on her feet, somehow always a step ahead even when she’s pretending not to care. I lose sight of her somewhere after the second ridge. Just flashes of movement now, the white of her dress darting between trees like a flicker of lightning in a dark sky.

It feels like it’s been hours. Or maybe minutes. The woods stretch and bend time around you until nothing makes sense except the pounding in your chest and the cold gnawing your fingers.

There are others behind me—I can hear them. The loud breathing, the slap of feet against frozen earth, rustling fabric and muffled voices. But they all feel distant now.

I don’t know what I’ll do when I reach her. I don’t know if I’m supposed to stop her or hide her or just… see her. Make sure she’s okay. the second Shauna forced that switch with Mari, She didn’t even react. No wide eyes, no trembling hands. Just that dead expression. Blank, almost bored. Like she was already somewhere else.

And then she ran.

in the same direction of the pit me and Travis set up, The pit she once fell into, but has no memory or where it is. and the pit that’s completely covered, filled with wooden spikes.

i skid across a patch of ice under the snow and nearly fall. I don’t stop. I’ve already lost too much time. My lungs burn. My hands are numb. My thighs ache with every sprint uphill, and my throat feels like I swallowed glass—but I keep going.

Somewhere ahead, a branch cracks.

I spin toward the sound. There—movement, sudden and sharp. I catch the shape of her, just her back, the white dress bright against the dark trees. She’s stripped everything else off—her jacket, her pants, her boots. Left a trail like breadcrumbs.

I push harder.

“Mari!” I shout.

She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t turn.

Of course not. She probably thinks I’m someone else. One of the others. Another girl high on frenzy and frostbite, chasing down blood in the name of ritual. Maybe part of her still doesn’t believe I’m not one of them too. Maybe part of me doesn’t know.

She slips between two evergreens. I veer right to intercept her, trying to circle around. My boots sink deeper into the snow, and I stumble but recover. I hear her breathing now, quick and sharp. She’s close, too close.

i can see her running from the side, i just need to speed up. I come up beside her, angling from the left—not directly behind, not where she’ll expect. She’s not even looking in my direction. She’s focused on moving forward, on outpacing whatever madness is nipping at her heels.

It’s just snow. A patch of it, like all the others. Soft and untouched. Quiet. There’s no warning. No edge. No dark hole in the ground. “Mari!” I yell.

She doesn’t hear me. Or maybe she ignores me. She’s too focused. Too fast. Her foot lifts—she’s about to step into it.

I throw myself sideways and Time slows.

My shoulder slams into her ribs. Her breath leaves her in a grunt. I watch her stumble, caught off balance, arms flailing. Her bare feet scrape across the snow. She falls sideways, not forward. into the whiteness.

I hit the ground hard beside her. Hard enough to make my vision rattle.

But I keep moving.

I’m rolling. Something shifts beneath me—like a breath held too long suddenly letting go. The snow caves. The earth disappears.

I slide.

No, I drop, i swear i could have felt Mari try to grab my hand. but It’s to cold to tell.

I open my eyes and try to move, but everything feels distant. My leg pulses with heat and pressure. Something’s crusted to the side of my head. My mouth tastes like copper and dirt. I blink again—slow. The light above has changed. Dimmer now. Or maybe my eyes are just fading on me.

I don’t know how long it’s been.

Minutes?

Long enough for the adrenaline to drain out of my veins and leave only the ache behind.

I hear footsteps.

Not imagined ones—real. Crunching snow, breathless voices, shapes moving at the edge of the pit. Someone swears. A sharp intake of breath.

She’s in there,” someone mutters.

“Is she moving?”

Another voice. Closer. Familiar.

Mari?

No. It’s not her. Not yet.

i hear Lottie’s voice cut through the air, and i could almost see her head looking down at me.

“i don’t think she’s going to survive, if she does then the wilderness rejected her, rejected them. the hunts called off.”

I try to say something, but it catches in my throat. My tongue is heavy. My body is heavier.

More noise now. Ropes. A branch cracking. Someone’s lowering something—maybe a jacket, maybe a rope tied together with scraps of fabric. I can’t tell.

“She’s bleeding—don’t yank her.”

“Careful—watch her leg.”

Mari’s voice cuts through it all, clear and too close.

“Move. You’re not touching her.”

It’s not a request.

And just like that, they do.

I feel her more than I see her. The shift of shadow. The snap of her breath in the cold air. from above the pit. Then her hands. Rough, shaking slightly. Warm. and then my eyes close.

When I wake up, I don’t know where I am.

There’s something heavy pressed to my leg. A weight. A dull pressure.

The ceiling is wooden. Slanted slightly. The air smells of blood, pine, and smoke. I’m in the hut, Mari’s hut. where is Mari?

I don’t remember how I got here. Only pieces. The cold. Mari’s voice. The feeling of being lifted, swaying. Maybe someone carried me. Maybe they used a sled or a tarp or their bare fucking arms. I don’t know.

My leg’s wrapped, tight. My hip aches like it’s been stabbed and sewn shut. I don’t look yet. I don’t want to see.

Mari’s sitting on the floor beside me, leaning against the wall. One knee up, one arm draped across it, her head tilted back—exhausted, but alert. Her eyes are half-closed. She hasn’t left.

Her jacket’s still off. Her hair’s a mess. There’s blood on her hands—not hers.

Mine.

She moves instantly, leaning forward, expression hard.

“You’re awake.”

It sounds like an accusation. But her voice is quieter than usual. Rough with something unspoken. “Hi,” I manage. It comes out hoarse.

“You fucking idiot,” she mutters, and looks away. And stands up. Staying in the same spot.

I try to push myself up a little, but the pain flares and Mari shoves me back with a hand against my shoulder—not gentle, not rough, just firm.

“You have a hole in your leg the size of a fist and you’re saying ‘hi’ like you tripped on a goddamn tree root? you could’ve died.”

“I saved you.”

“No, you almost died for me!”

That silences me. Not because I disagree, but because of the way she says it. Her voice breaks hard on the last word, and she turns away from me like she can’t stand to look at me right now.

“I saw you fall in. I thought you were dead. I thought—” She cuts off, swallowing something jagged. “There was blood everywhere. You weren’t moving. And I thought… That’s it. That’s the last time I’ll ever see you move.”

“Mari—”

“No. Shut up.” She turns back toward me, and this time her expression is all fire. “You don’t get to talk right now. You don’t get to make this okay. Because it’s not okay. You scared the shit out of me, and I hate you for it.”

I breathe in, trying to find the words. “i rather it be me the you. i helped you.”

Her hands ball into fists at her sides. “are you stupid? You think I want to feel like this? You think I like trying to get you out of a death trap. everyone else tried to help you get out. what if you did die? were you just gonna leave me alone with some kind of fucking survivors guilt?” There’s something wet in her voice now. Not tears yet, but close.

“They helped me out?” I ask gently.

“Yeah. Eventually. After I fucking snapped at them. Lottie kept saying you weren’t meant to survive.

“and you didn’t listen?” She scoffs. “I don’t listen when it comes to you.”

That shuts me up again.

We sit in silence for a long minute. Her hand drifts closer, fingers brushing mine. Not taking it—just near enough that I could if I wanted.

I do. She doesn’t pull away.

“what happened with the hunt?”

She snorts once—bitter. “they ended it. You crashing into a pit sort of ruined the mood.” I almost laugh, but my ribs hurt.

I squeeze her hand.

“I knew the pit was there, me and Travis came up with it. He was gonna come up with a plan to make Lottie walk on it. That’s how I knew it was close.”

“That’s pretty Dark, didn’t take you as somebody to do something like that.” she say’s Half joking.

She hasn’t let go of my hand.

Not really. Not fully.

Even when I shift a little, the pressure changes—less grip, more presence—but it’s still there. The way she anchors me. My whole body hurts, but it’s the kind of pain that tells you you’re not dead. The burn of healing starting too soon. My leg throbs, wrapped in something rough, and the bandages are already soaked through with the edge of blood. My side feels swollen and heavy, like the skin there isn’t mine.

But it’s Mari’s hand that keeps me grounded.

I try to adjust my breathing, but it stutters. She notices instantly. Her gaze flicks over me—sharp, assessing, worried in that way she pretends isn’t worry. “How bad is it?” I ask.

She doesn’t lie.

“You missed most of the spikes. But one caught the side of your thigh and it… it opened up deep. You lost a lot of blood. Honestly you’re lucky, there’s almost 0 Chance of you landing like you did.”

“And my waist?”

She hesitates. Her jaw tightens.

“You were lucky,” she mutters. “It tore through the side, but it didn’t hit anything vital. Or… at least I think it didn’t.”

“You think?”

“I’m not a doctor, genius.”

I try to smile. It doesn’t quite land.

“Still,” I say. “You got me out of there.”

She looks away, jaw working like she’s chewing through guilt.

“you didn’t hesitate. You didn’t think.” Her voice sharpens. “You just threw yourself in after me like some kind of—”

She cuts herself off, breath ragged. Her eyes go glossy again, but she blinks it back fast.

I want to say something. I want to tell her I’d do it again. That it wasn’t a decision, it was instinct. That there’s never been a single second since we crashed here where I wouldn’t risk everything for her. But the words get stuck. Not because they aren’t true—because they’re too true.

Mari isn’t the type to let her guard down without a fight. So instead I say, “You were about to fall in. You didn’t see it. i got lucky.”

“No,” she says, low and certain. “You got hurt. That’s not being ‘lucky”

She finally meets my eyes again. And there’s something in hers I’ve only seen a few times before—back when she thought I was sleeping, or when she thought no one was watching. It’s not softness exactly. It’s more like fury at the idea of losing me. “I didn’t know if you were going to wake up.”

“I didn’t know either,” I whisper. When she finally speaks, it’s lower. Rougher. “You keep doing this. Putting yourself in the fire like it’s your job to make sure the rest of us come out okay. And I love you for it and I fucking hate you for it.”

The words land like a punch. I can barely hold them.

“You love me?” I whisper.

Mari finally meets my eyes again—and there’s no escape in her gaze now. Just rage, exhaustion, and something too bright to name.

“You already knew that,” she says. “Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

I try to reach for her, but my fingers shake. She sees it, and without another word, she takes my hand and presses it flat against her chest. Her heartbeat thuds against my palm. Unsteady. Real.

“You’re not allowed to die before me,” she says. “Got it?”

“I’ll try,”

she brushes her hand on the top of my head.

It’s not affection, not exactly. It’s something rawer than that. Like she’s holding me down so I don’t slip away again.

“Does it hurt?” she asks after a long pause.

“Yes.”

She nods, and I swear she looks almost relieved to hear it.

“Good,” she mutters. “Means you’re still alive, and you deserve it for being careless.”

“stop with the angry act. You stayed,” I say.

“Of course I did idiot.” she crosses her arm

I close my eyes.

It’s not peace. It’s not safety. Not here. But it’s something.

Mari, alive. Me, alive. Barely. Together.