#She's being very vague for her typical Doveness...

[tkomptgoedluv]

icantbelieveiletyougetaway.

pt.1 | pt.2 here | pt.3 here

joost klein x f! reader

tags: dead dove do not eat, f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, they’re so in love with each other it hurts but can’t admit it, joost just wants to be her everything, angst, hurt, comfort, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 4,156.

warnings: very brief allusion to drugging, heavy and frequent references to SA, violence, vague mentions of non-specific mental illness, rpf.

notes: in my head this takes place in 2021-2022 when joost had that really short, almost buzzcut like hair? like the wachtmuziek era. also, very sorry this is late!! it’s still only been half-proofread and i’m not even sure i like how i wrote the ending but here she is anyway. i love her and i hope you do too 💋.

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

with shaking hands, you fumbled around the bathroom floor to find your phone. your chest was heaving, the cries that you struggled to keep quiet were getting all caught up in your throat as you fought meekly through the nausea. you wiped at your face again, desperate to clear your vision and leaving behind a mixture of tears, snot, and smeared mascara on the back of your hand.

the room itself was dark, barely lit up by a singular dim, yellow light, though despite the shadows you could still see how everything was spinning. you couldn’t remember how many drinks you’d had — it hadn’t felt like a lot, you weren’t a lightweight by any means but you didn’t know how else to explain the state you were in. you couldn’t stand up even if you wanted to, your legs strangely numb to the touch and the pounding in your head made staying on the floor all the more appealing anyway.

face down on the grimey, tiled floor you found your phone laying just underneath the sink. you ignored the low battery warning as you swiped through your contacts, squinting through your tears at the screen as if it would actually help you see any better. you were only looking out for one name; the third out of the four that were listed under the letter ‘J’, and the only name to have an emoji next to it.

over the sound of the heavy, techno bass that seemed to shake the walls and the buzz of a hundred different people all talking amongst each other, you heard the line start to dial. it didn’t make sense to call him out of everyone else that could possibly help you; he was infamously known for never picking up the phone. it was ironic for someone so notoriously attached to their screens, his face typically glued to either his phone or his ipad.

but still, you hadn’t so much as thought twice about it as you clicked on his contact and then the call button. With your head tilted back against the wall and your knees curled up tightly against your chest, you prayed to any god listening that by some miracle, he wouldn’t be busy.

“hallo?”

you let out a whimper at the mere sound of his voice, a small, pathetic noise that quickly turned into a cry that you didn’t bother to stifle. he called out your name for a second time, though now in a tone that was much softer than the one before it.

“i’m sorry, i know it’s late.” you paused to take a breath, your voice having cracked like glass as you spoke. “but i need your help. i don’t…joost, i don’t know what to do.”

“it’s okay, just take a big breath for me.” for just a moment you heard shuffling around on the other end of the line. with each of his footsteps the background noise grew quieter until it disappeared completely, following the sound of a door being shut. “where are you?”

“i’m at…i’m at this house but i uh, i really don’t wanna be here anymore. do you think you could…can you just come get me, please? i’m sorry.”

over the sound of a drum and bass beat that played so obnoxiously loud, you struggled to catch all the whispers from joost’s side of the phone call. there was another voice there, that much you could hear, and you struggled to place it despite how familiar it sounded. you tried to concentrate on the faint muttering, straining your ears to hear it over the song that blared just below you.

but then you jumped when the banging started. a sudden flurry of fists pounding against the wood and making the bathroom door rattle within its hinges. from the deep laughs that followed, chances were it was just a group of guys trying to be funny, probably thinking it was one of their friends getting lucky on the other side. and yet still, you found yourself gasping for breath as you choked back fresh tears, all the blood that ran through your veins turning cold.

“schatje? did you hear me?”

you could only hum back in response.

“i said i need you to send me your location, okay? and then i’ll come get you, i promise.”

it was the moment you figured out how to do so that your phone finally gave up on you. after hitting send, the little map displaying your whereabouts popping up in yours and joost’s text chain, your screen began to freeze. in a moment of panic you managed to choke out that you were locked away in a bathroom before it all went black, leaving you to stare at the taunting dead battery symbol.

you weren’t oblivious to the irony of it all. in a house crammed full of people, perhaps even a few too many than it was built to hold, you felt alone. just a few minutes ago that was all you wanted, to be by yourself, but now it left you with a ringing in your ears. the absence of joost’s voice was enough to throw you inside what felt like a black hole, where time seemed to slow the longer you waited for him.

you found a brief comfort in watching the time pass on the old, analog clock that hung high on the wall opposite you; you figured it was a better thing to focus on besides the sharp ache between your legs. it helped keep you distracted from the way everything just hurt now, whatever it was that was in your system already starting to wear off. without it numbing you to the pain of it all, you could feel the headache brewing behind your eyes and the sting of your split lip.

with each minute that dragged by, the slow, high-pitched tick of the clock echoing inside your ears, your mind began to slip further and further away. every time that you closed your eyes you could see it happening all over again; you could feel his hands back on you, ripping at your clothes and bruising your skin.

all the tears that you had only just managed to blink away came rushing back, continuing to decorate your face with more long, dark streaks of black. surely, this was going to be the thing to finally break you. there would never be any redemption or recovery for you — he’d get to live the rest of his life without burden whilst this was bound to be the death of you.

the more you unravelled, the more erratic your cries grew with hiccups racking your body and a deep burning in your eyes. for once you found yourself grateful for the music’s mind-numbing volume, though somehow it still wasn’t enough to mask the sound of a soft tapping against the bathroom door. like a coward you froze, failing to answer back before you heard your own name being yelled out to you, followed by a harsher knock.

“hey it’s me, it’s joost. can you open the door please?”

as you steadily climbed to your feet, using the edge of the sink to help push you up, your knees began to shake. they threatened to buckle out from under you with every step that you took, each limp towards the door sending a short stabbing pain up to your abdomen. the sensation made you wince, your jaw clenched and a grip on the door handle so strong that it turned your knuckles white.

it was almost sardonic how despite being in a house so loud, everything went quiet as soon as that door swung open. the music never stopped nor did anyone dare to change its volume, but all joost could hear was his own heartbeat thumping in his ears as his eyes met yours. all he could do was swallow, pushing down the bile that was quickly rising up his throat.

even in the low, warm light of the bathroom, he could see the streaked mascara that painted your face and the bloodied lip that was still trickling down your chin. your favourite shirt, the one that he himself had bought you, was torn and just about hanging off your shoulders. it exposed a trail of black and blue spots that started along your shoulder and went all the way down your arms, a couple even dotted down your legs.

joost uttered your name, his voice barely audible over the music downstairs. the corners of your frown twitched, your bottom lip quivering as you shook your head, already answering the question he hadn’t even asked yet. from where you stood he could see you shaking, your knees weak and barely holding you up right. he didn’t hesitate to pull you into him, an arm locking around your waist as his hand found the back of your head, keeping you hidden in his chest.

“jesus christ, what happened to you?”

you couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the right words to even try and explain what it was you had gone through. you could only weep into the fabric of joost’s jacket, so exhausted and overwhelmed that you didn’t have the strength to hold yourself together in front of him. but it was more than enough of an answer for joost who just held you tighter the harder you cried, fighting back tears of his own.

pulling away as gently as he could, joost still kept you in his grasp. his hands cupped either side of your jaw, calloused thumbs wiping away stray-fallen tears as his eyes danced over your face. with a gaze so intense, you could see his eyes growing sadder the longer he looked you over in the dull light of the bathroom.

“i left stunts outside — he’s still in the car. we could…we should go to the hospital.”

“no!” your own dramatic change in tone caught even you off guard. you couldn’t help it, you were panicking now, pulling joost back by his sleeve as he tried to guide you out of the bathroom. the action made you wobble and almost trip over your own feet, flinching at the sudden cramp you felt deep in your stomach. joost’s grip on you hardened, not nearly enough to hurt but enough to keep you from falling back and hitting your head on the sink. “not tonight. please, i just wanna go home. i’ll be fine.”

“you can barely fucking stand, schatje. you need help.”

“then i promise i’ll go in the morning! but right now i just really need you to take me home, okay? i’m begging you.”

perhaps if joost had a little bit more of a backbone and wasn’t so hopelessly head over fucking heels for you, he would’ve had the courage to say no. he would have been able to look you in the eye and still say that he was going to get you to a doctor, whether you wanted to go or not. but no matter how much he wanted to, how much he hated what you were asking of him, he couldn’t. feeling you trembling in his hands and hearing the fear that shook your voice meant there was longer a single thing that joost wouldn’t do for you.

you were his best friend just as much as he was yours, regardless of all the very non-platonic things the two of you had done together over the years. as far as you were concerned it was just something that you’d do sometimes, only ever as friends. there were never any conversations about it the next morning, never any acknowledgment for what it was you had done the night before; it was almost like it never happened until it would undoubtedly happen again. you always liked it like that though — as long as it meant that you never had to think about how you really felt.

joost, on the other hand, was painfully aware of what he felt about your situation, about you. it was never just sex for him, not even once, and he wanted to talk about it. and he tried to, a couple of times, spending the first few mornings after trying to coax you back into bed just so he could hold you skin-to-skin for a little while longer. but you never wanted to stay and you never wanted to talk about it, either, so joost stopped. he let it become another pain he had to live with and spent each day telling himself that he was okay with that.

it was with only a slight hesitation that he nodded before standing back up straight, slipping his big black jacket off his arms and draping the material gently over your shoulders.

you let joost take on most of your weight as you leaned into his side, letting him guide you back through the house as you focused on just trying to make it down the stairs without tripping. to say that the place was packed was an understatement. people were crammed into every room like sardines, dancing and grinding against each other with stiff, swinging jaws. you hadn’t even heard what it was that had been said over the music, its volume still just as loud and disorienting as it had been when you first arrived.

but joost had heard every word, somehow, despite the sound of his own song polluting the room. it made him freeze on the spot, pulling you to a stop right along with him as he slowly turned to face the group of guys that were standing just in front of the front door. you felt your throat start to close at the sight of him amongst them, standing front and centre with a sick grin plastered across his face, his eyes darting between you and joost.

“what did you just say?”

it might have been the gruff, nauseating voice that you recognised, or maybe it was those ring-heavy hands of his that you could still feel pressed into your skin. you didn’t know, and it didn’t matter, because you knew it was him.

“i said good luck with that one, dude. she doesn’t go down easy; kept trying to fight me the whole time.” his stare then fell from joost onto you, his tongue gliding over his bottom lip as he looked you up and down. “but we still had our fun though, didn’t we schat?”

the crack of joost’s knuckles colliding with his jaw was something you heard before you saw it; the thud of him hitting the ground following soon after. a chorus of screams and cheers rang painfully in your ears as you watched a small circle quickly form around you. anyone that could still see straight had either ran from the fight or pushed forward to get a better view of it, their phones held high and already recording.

“bet that made you feel like a man, huh? forcing yourself on a girl half your size. you piece of fucking shit, i should fucking kill you!”

in all the years you’d known him, you had never seen joost like that before; his voice low and angry as his shouts drowned out the music. he hadn’t waited for him to get back up before throwing another punch, the sharp crunch of his noise breaking making you wince and your eyes water.

you went to step forward, your hands already reaching out to grab joost’s arm when one of his friends pounced. a shriek was ripped out from you when a fist struck joost right across the cheek, knocking him into you hard enough to almost send you both tumbling to the floor. any chance for you to try and intervene again vanished when you were pushed back before you could get close enough, joost quickly shoving you behind him as he swung for the other guy.

a strong pair of arms wrapped your middle and pulled you further back as you cried for them all to stop, keeping you locked against their chest no matter how hard you thrashed. distance was put between you and the fight when you were picked up and half-dragged out the door, joost’s blond hair disappearing from sight amongst the growing crowd around him.

the bitter air of the early morning stole your breath, your chest tight and aching as the cold consumed you. small flakes of snow drifted down from the paleing sky, dusting each rooftop and the old, cracked pavements in a thin layer of white. still, there were a handful of people gathered on the house’s front stairs, clad in various leather and latex, that only stood and watched as you were hauled away from the party.

“get the fuck off me! we’ve gotta go back, we can’t just leave him! stuntje, please!”

your feet only met the floor again once you were next to stunt’s car, safely across the street. even from there, you could hear the childish chanting of ‘fight! fight! fight!’ and the occasional glass break from inside.

“martijn -”

“- stay here; i’m gonna go get him.”

you weren’t allowed to argue, so you just did what you were told. for four minutes you sat waiting in the back of the car with the heaters on full blast and still shivering as you nestled yourself deeper into joost’s jacket. after another minute you saw them heading back your way, their pace fast as they slipped past the last few people that loitered on the steps. in the glow of the streetlights you could just about make out the soft shade of purple that was joost’s eye, and the deep scowl that contorted stuntje’s face.

neither of them spoke as they joined you in the car but for joost, you never really gave him the chance to. his seatbelt hadn’t even clicked into place yet before you were turning away from him, desperate to pretend that he wasn’t there burning holes into the side of your head. if joost knew that you could see him staring from the corner of your eye, he didn’t care. if anything, he probably would’ve hoped that it might have made you look back at him, because then that at least would’ve been something.

but seeing joost storm out of that house with a violet eye and raw knuckles, having just risked everything for you without a second thought, it scared you more than you wanted to admit. he was only supposed to come find you, and bring you back home. you never wanted a fight, never wanted joost to wind up with a black eye over you. so no, you couldn’t look at him — couldn’t even talk to him, either.

except your silent treatment didn't last very long, did it? it couldn’t, because joost wasn’t going to let you get away with it this time. for as long as he had known you, you always had this habit of internalising what you felt and shutting down. it never mattered what it was you were going through, you just wouldn’t talk about it.

this time though, he wasn’t going to let you disappear in on yourself again, and he wasn’t going to let you shut him out, either.

as soon as the car came to a stop, joost was up and already outside your car door. with a sweet smile, gentle hands were pulling you up and slowly helping you onto your feet before you had the chance to protest. there was a part of you that wanted to, now too proud to admit that you still needed his help. already, he had done more than enough, even too much, for you.

still, you didn’t dare to fight it — or him, rather. besides a small goodbye to stuntje, no words were spoken as he slipped an arm under your knees and pulled you up to his chest. it was like that, that he carried you up the three flights of stairs of your building, glancing down at you every so often with soft, worried eyes. it was miraculous how he managed to open your front door with you still in his arms, his very own key to your home dangling from the clip on his jeans.

it wasn’t long before the soft leather of your sofa was dipping underneath your weight, its cushion beneath you feeling cold against the bruised flesh of your thigh. joost left you for only a second, just to switch on a couple of the lamps you had dotted around and to dig out your old first aid kit from the bathroom.

you still weren’t really looking at him, not even as he perched on the edge of your coffee table and carefully took your jaw in his hold. the brush of the alcohol wipes along the small cuts that marked your face stung and made you wince, your nose scrunching up at the pain. a string of quiet apologies followed as joost concentrated on cleaning you up, wiping away each and every smear of blood and smudged makeup.

the longer that you sat there whilst joost devoted all of his time and energy to you, the more teary-eyed you felt yourself becoming again. it felt almost…foreign to feel so loved after everything, like you were still somehow worth saving. there was no way that you could possibly deserve it — nothing you could’ve done to deserve having someone adore you so unconditionally without earning it.

and yet here he was, your joost, doing anything and everything to try and help, and you couldn’t even fucking look at him.

the only thing you could do was cry. the way you clutched your mouth did little to muffle the sounds of your distress and it drew back his attention after he turned away only to throw out all of the dirty, used wipes. it was the guilt that was doing this to you, the guilt of knowing that you were the reason why joost now had a black eye. that joost had risked his whole career by starting that fight, and you had been the one to punish him for it.

a warm hand squeezed your knee as another tucked fallen strands of hair behind your ear. it took a few tries of quietly calling out your name to finally get you to meet his eyes, but eventually you got there. nothing could have prepared you for just how sick he looked, the bags under his eyes seeming considerably darker than before and a deep frown tugging at the corners of his lips.

“i’m sorry i did this. i never should’ve gone with him, i know i shouldn’t have because i know that i know better but i still went and i should’ve done something more, i could’ve hit him harder or yelled, and i’m sorry i called you because your eye, that was me, that was my fault and i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i -”

with your face pressed flat against his chest, his sudden embrace almost swallowing you whole, you couldn’t find the rest of your slurred, blubbering words. somehow, at some point, joost manoeuvred you both onto the sofa and with his arms around you, kept you curled up against his side. a few fingers moved up the back of your neck to scratch your scalp as others held onto your hip.

it was the only thing he could think to do to shut you up, to calm you down enough to take big, slow breaths, in and out.

he didn’t have it in him to let you finish that sentence.

delicate reassurances were mumbled into your hair, quiet ‘you’re okay’’s and faint ‘it wasn’t your fault’’s becoming mantras that helped soothe the pain in your chest. you wanted to believe him and knew that you didn’t. you knew that as the deep baritone of his whispers slowly lulled you to sleep, you’d wake up with that pain still very much there.

but joost wasn’t going to stop trying anytime soon, noor was he going anywhere. it was one of the few things you’d actually let him do for you, making himself a home on your sofa whenever you would have one of your episodes. he’d sleep there, eat there, work there. sometimes joost would spend entire weeks of his life in your living room just so that he could know for sure you were still alive and breathing.

he was the only thing offering you the slightest bit of comfort. you could feel his fingers running through your hair as you curled up even further into his side, his voice still low in your ear. it was becoming to struggle just to keep your eyes open, but you knew that he wouldn’t mind.

you could fall asleep just to wake up with that same ache in your heart still there, but joost would still be there too. for now, that was all you needed.

[therealvinelle]

Can I hear your opinions on rita skeeter?

You know how some stories have that only sane man, the one person who isn't impressed by our dashing main characters or who's living in a different genre and rated story? The one, typically a fan favorite, character who has a fundamentally different perspective. They can also, shortly put, be the "this is stupid and you're stupid" character.

The NBC Hannibal show has Freddie Lounds ("I'm a bad, bad man", Will threatens her. He is then surprised when she runs a feature on the FBI hiring a creep to come to crime scenes and pretend he's a serial killer.) The Vampire Diaries had Elijah (he isn't a great example of this, but legacy fans will remember all the jokes about how the reason the writers never put him in episodes was because he'd have solved all the characters' stupid problems within twenty minutes and there would be no plot for the rest of the season. Elijah was perceived to be living in a different type of show than the rest of the teen drama cast), and there are some who think that this was Snape for Harry Potter.

They are wrong.

Rita, my dove

Let's take a look at a few things Rita prints over the course of canon, where we have an insight into what actually happened and know precidely what she printed. I have my copy of Goblet of Fire with me, it's in Norwegian so I'll be translating back to English but I trust that's alright.

The Quidditch world cup incident

What we know happened:

The British Ministry was responsible for the event. It was highly prestigious, with foreign leaders attending and people from all over the world camped out near the stadion. After the first match there's celebrations, which turns into a riot. Tents are set on fire, people are chased through the camp grounds, and there's total chaos where nobody knows where their loved ones are. The riot soon turns into a homage to Voldemort, with rioters in Death Eater uniforms tormenting the Muggles living nearby and someone putting up the Dark Mark.

Arthur Weasley, who works in the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts (which is admittedly part of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement), is sent to make a statement on the Ministry's behalf to the terrified witches and wizards hiding.

What Skeeter reports:

Headlining "TERROR AT THE WORLD CUP" (me translating), with an image of the Dark Mark, Rita Skeeter writes (this is Arthur skimming): "Ministry blunders... culprits not apprehended... lax security... Dark wizards running unchecked... national disgrace..." (original English from the wiki)

A full section (and this is me translating again): "If the terrified witches and wizards who waited for information while they hid in the woods had hoped for any sort of reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sorely disappointed. A department spokesman, who only showed up long after the Dark Mark had appeared, claimed no one had been injured but refused to give further information. It remains to be seen if this statement will quell the rumors that several bodies were seen being recovered from the woods an hour later."

Verdict

All of this is accurate, except the last sentence.

Nobody was killed in the incident. However, Skeeter was acting on the information available to her, and she makes it clear this last part is unconfirmed. Further, I'm going to come out in her defense and say that Skeeter, writing an article critical of the Ministry in a community with a very loose sense of free speech, can't take Arthur Weasley at his vague word and should refer to her own sense of judgement when deciding whether the rumors are credible enough to print or not.

As it is, a riot in a crowded area at night with people who dressed like Death Eaters, where the Dark Mark was fired into the sky, where mass panic erupted, in a world where children can produce deadly magic with their wands, could easily have led to casualties. I don't think it was a far leap for Skeeter that people might have died, and the Ministry didn't want to admit as much.

Notice her phrasing (and yes, I know you're reading my translation) when she talks about the Ministry: "It remains to be seen if this statement will quell the rumors that several bodies were seen being recovered from the woods an hour later." Not, "It remains to be seen whether the rumors that several bodies were seen being recovered from the woods an hour later were true.", or any type of phrasing indicating that the truth will out. Only rumors that may or may not be quelled.

Knowing that the Wizarding World doesn't appear to be a functional nor accountable democracy, that things like statistics likely don't exist (who will be your statistician if there is no basic math education? How will wizards interpret statistics if they don't understand basic maths, what use are error margins and percentages to them? This is important, because without statistics there is also no need to collect numbers - how many students take the core classes, how many are employed after X years, how many citizens die in a given year and of what causes... you see where I'm going with this), and that Arthur gets so defensive when reading legitimate criticism of his Ministry (not even his department or jurisdiction, mind, and Skeeter anonymized him), indicates a fraught understanding of governmental accountability and transparency.

In other words, who can say if anybody died that night. Arthur himself had gone to bed with his family as soon as the chaos was under control, and there was no tally after the riot, no controlled evacuation, nothing. Skeeter wasn't wrong for publishing what she herself clarified was speculation, either way I'm hard pressed to see her as a villain for putting the Ministry under pressure, in fact I have to wonder if this kind of pressure is necessary to get them to admit things they'd otherwise shove under the carpet.

Back to Arthur Weasley. In response to this article he says to his family (me translating again): "Molly, I must go to the office. Killing this is going to take some time."

Now, I know real governments have to cry over scandals that take time to move past as well: however, what are people upset over? What's the scandal?

Oh, yes, that the Ministry wasn't able to prevent a riot at a large sports event, flubbed completely once it had begun, and failed to give the people any kind of useful or timely information. All of that is true. The only part that isn't true, would be dispelled if they'd only put out a statement saying "no one was killed". The only reason why one such statement wouldn't work is if Ministry statements are not considered trustworthy - and this is where we return to the above.

So far, so good on Rita Skeeter, and so bad on Arthur who, going by this section, questions the Ministry less than Bellatrix Lestrange questions Voldemort.

Interlude: Percy and the vampires

While the article about the World Cup is read, Percy jumps in with an anecdote about Skeeter.

"That woman is always out to slander the Ministry," Percy said angrily. "Last week she claimed we waster our time fooling around with cauldron thickness when we should be extinguishing vampires! As though it is not expressedly stated in Guidelines for treatment of non-wizard halfhumans that-"

I'm not going to make any guesses as to what precisely Skeeter's criticism was, because Percy is angry and venting to his family, which doesn't make him likely to present her argument fairly. Who knows what, specifically, she criticized and why and what she asked for in her article. What we do know is that she questioned Ministry priorities and resource allotment, and Percy takes it personally, he gets angry about it. Hostility and defensiveness is the gut reaction.

More damningly, "that woman is always out to slander the Ministry" implies no one else is doing it.

Your star is rising, Rita.

Oh no, post got long

And this is the part where I'd go on to her interview with Harry and subsequent articles, and later on Dumbledore, but I'm realizing that would make this post a very long and decentralized mess.

Will cover it in follow up posts: today is for Rita vs. the Ministry and how the Weasleys think Muggles are so quaint with their democracricy and freedom of speech, teehee that's silly.

[flowwochair]

Doves and their Peculiar Taste (Aimevout) - Prologue

After much debate (and because apparently I have to wait to make an AO3 account????) I decided to post the prologue to the fic I have been working on here, depending on how long AO3 takes to release me from purgatory I might just go ahead and post the chapters I have so far on here too. NOTE: The fanfic starts with Aimée's engagement to Lannes and is meant to end with her wedding to Davout following her as she becomes disillusioned with Lannes and falls in love with Davout, who she meets by chance at an event hosted by her brother, the prologue is set before this. Although I tried to stick as much as possible to historical accuracy here there will most likely be bits that are not as accurate. I attempted to be as accurate as I could be to Aimée's initial engagement to Lannes and how things were going back then but I don't have a lot of specific info on that and the specific circumstances she was in and this fic is largely my own creative take on how the engagement was dissolved and how Davout and Aimée met. In reality, I don't even know if Davout and Aimée had met at all prior to their wedding, let alone have a soapy lovey dovey will they won't they slowburn romance develop between them. Likewise, I did my own take in characterization to some extent, I wrote the characters involved the way I see them/think of them, but some of them will change throughout the fic (notably Lannes, Davout, and Aimée). I apologize for any historical inaccuracies, like I said this is my own creative take about a very specific situation which I don't have a lot of insight on :((( . TLDR: there will probably be some historical inaccuracies here and there PLEASE dont be mean to me about it or I'm gonna cry and show up in your living room and throw up on your carpet, thank you. Anyways, enjoy.

Prologue – Scene 1

“An illegitimate child with another man?”

The words slapped Lannes back into consciousness as they left Bonaparte’s mouth.

“I find I should be concerned myself, my situation is not much better than yours, but, how do you feel?”

Lannes realized he had been venting to Napoleon without a second thought, and only then did the reality hit him. What now? Well, Napoleon was the best person to ask wasn’t he? “What now?” Lannes looked up at Bonaparte with a puzzled look, seeming almost as if half awake. “I guess I need a new wife”. Bonaparte could see his sorrow being converted into anger, typical for Lannes given his nature, “And have you thought of someone?” he asked, to which he earned  a quick reply from Lannes’s increasing frustration “Fuck no.”

Bonaparte reclined on his chair, staring down at Lannes who sat on a camp bed, his back hunched, his eyes on the floor. “Lannes,” as Bonaparte called, he looked up, eyebrows still furrowed, “You’ve become a close friend to me… and what do we want in life if not to see our friends cared for?”. Lannes’s expression changed to one of confusion, “What? Do you have someone in mind?”, he didn’t like it when Napoleon was vague with him. “I have already sought connections for my sisters, they are cared for, however, they themselves have connections which aren’t.”

“Well honestly I’m not sure if I wanna think about women at all right now.” Lannes hastily got up as he spoke, grabbing his hat in the process and turning towards the tent’s opening, until Napoleon stood up and grabbed him by the arm, “God, listen to me won’t you” with a movement of his chin he gestured towards he chair he previously occupied, “Sit.”

“Fine”, Lannes sat “Hurry up.” “My sister, Pauline, is married to Charles Leclerc, you know him do you not?” “Yeah whatever I think so”, Lannes gestured vaguely. “Leclerc has unmarried sisters, one in particular who is at proper age, Louise-Aimée-Julie Leclerc.” “I never met this girl.” “I have heard and read snippets of her character here and there, she seems like a docile girl, well behaved, just a bit shy but perfect for marriage, especially as a rebound after something like this. Not to mention, by marrying her, you would be brought into my family through her connection to my sister. You would be cared for in being provided with a good loving wife, a wealthy familial connection to the Leclercs, and a connection to me.” He spoke more as if he were pitching a business deal than as if he were pitching a marriage.

Lannes still looked at him, but this time with some interest. It would seem the ‘sales’ pitch may have been successful at hooking him in. Access to wealth… a connection to Napoleon… a docile wife who would not give him a bastard child. “Huh… What does she look like?”.

“Brunette, brown eyes, small stature, she is quite petite.” Bonaparte replied, still in the tone of someone selling furniture. “Well you know how I am-“ “I do and I am hoping you would not take such a style with her.” Bonaparte replied sternly, “Her brother is quite protective of her Lannes, you should treat her as a crystal if anything.” “Sure… well, fine, let’s give it a shot.” Lannes said, standing up once again, this time with a much more interested expression. “Great.” Napoleon stood up as well, extending his hand towards Lannes, “I will propose the idea to Leclerc tomorrow, he has been looking for a suitor to his sister, surely he will be pleased.” Lannes shook his hand “Surely”, he said with a smirk.

Lannes, having put his hat back on, then left Napoleon’s tent, as Napoleon sought an aide to write a letter to Leclerc on his behalf.

Prologue – Scene 2 Egypt had been hell for everyone involved, by then the campaign was falling apart and if anyone knew this for certain it was its leader, Napoleon Bonaparte, his return to France was already in plans. One of the many men condemned to stay in the hellish uncaring desert was one Louis Nicolas Davout. In a situation not too dissimilar from that of Lannes, having recently divorced his wife for an incident of a similar nature, he was down on his luck, one of the few things which at the very least kept him alive was his friendship to one Louis Desaix. “Davout?”, Desaix whispered, entering Davout’s messy tent, a stained jacket sat in rough shape on a chair near his bed, where Davout himself was sitting, staring at his glasses, the left lens badly shattered.

“Still awake hm?” Desaix sat on the chair facing him, his eyes attempting to meet Davout’s downward gaze. “Mhm.” He didn’t speak much, he never did, even to his closest friends, but still Desaix could read him so well, and he knew Davout was tired, he had been for a while. Desaix gently took the pair of glasses from Davout’s hands, which made Davout look up at him, “I’ll get take these with me, and send you a brand new pair from France! Whaddya think?” Desaix smiled at him. Although his expression did not change, Desaix could tell Davout’s mood had lightened slightly at the interaction. “Have you thought about what I said to you?”, Desaix kept his eyes fixed on Davout, concentrating in reading his expression. Davout looked down again, making Desaix concerned. “I don’t see the point. I tried once, it did not go well, why should I try again? I doubt it would result in success, besides I don’t have much to offer, it would simply be a pointless transaction on both ends.” Davout answered in a matter-of-fact manner, he looked up at Desaix once more with a straight expression. “You just haven’t met the right girl yet, you’ll see”, Desaix had been insisting a similar plea to Davout for long now, it wasn’t the first time Davout had heard him say this. “I am to return soon… I could… I could sneak you, yes, in the ship back to France, and-“ “General Bonaparte would never-“ “I don’t care what he has to say! I’ll sneak you in, I’ll take you to France, maybe you’ll meet someone there! Maybe at least you’ll change your mind, I could-“ “Desaix.” At this point, Davout was looking at him with concern. Desaix realized he was failing at hiding his distress. “I’m sorry.” He realized he had lifted off the chair towards Davout when he was speaking, he sat back down. “I worry about leaving you alone, I really do.” He placed his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his knuckles. There was silence between them for a little while.

“I’ll be fine,” Davout spoke, as he did Desaix looked up at him, his smile slowly reappearing. “I suppose as long as I am alive I am fine”, Davout shrugged. “Surely”, Desaix chuckled. Hesitantly, he stood up. “Keep me informed Davout, we should meet as soon as you yourself return to France, which I am hoping will be soon.” “I’ll try to remember to write to you, but you should write to me when you get there.” Davout responded, Desaix laughed at his response much to Davout’s confusion. “I will, have a good night Davout, I hope you’ll be at the port before I leave.” “I am hoping you do not intend to-“ “I won’t sneak you into the ship I swear! I just want to say my goodbyes that’s all” Desaix spoke honestly. “I’ll be there.” In a rare sight, Davout smiled at Desaix.  “See you.” Desaix gave Davout a pat on the shoulder before leaving his tent, still holding Davout’s glasses in his left hand. Not long after, Davout blew the only lit candle inside the tent, and tried his best to fall asleep.

Surely I’ll be fine.

[hell-heron]

This is a post or rather a list of disconnected thoughts about Sansa discourse. As such, it's probably unpleasant and annoying, dead dove not don't eat. As such it mentions a lot of people's opinions which I don't know when and who I heard from, it's meant to be about trend in the fandoms and not about vaguing anyone specific. It's really a vent and I'm open to discussion but please not to attacks, I'm also deliberately not tagging this and making this unrebloggable

It seems that a "discourse" that had a recent revival is whether Ned did anything amiss regarding Sansa in AGOT, whether that possibly has anything to do with her choice to go to Cersei with his plan, whether it's intellectually honest to make such a connection at all, or rather a reach for cheap justification of one's fave. It seems to pop up periodically, bring up more or less the same few talking points both in favor and against, and certainly it isn't the most offensive and virulent of discourses on either side, yet it makes me very sad.

I think it's because searching for more psychological nuance in character's motivation is such a joyous, common activity and arguably all that transformative fandom is really about, and would be so in any other fandom or even part of the fandom (to make an example, as a Theon fan I've never seen any backlash to the idea him kicking Gared's head is tied to his fear of having to witness executions as a possible future victim, even though that also can be construed as justification for a misdeed and woobification, and it could potentially be construed as criticism of Ned too, even though I've never meant it as one personally).

But it's not so here, not because the critics arbitrarily decided to be mean but because indeed everywhere in the subfandom such "theories" or "metas" are indeed used in this futile exercise of tallying up everything your fave did wrong with the wrong that was done against them and with what other characters they are pitted against did wrong and with what they did right. It's very much a process that its happening and it makes sense that people want to criticize the metas and theories to defend against it. I'm not under the delusion the Sansa fandom is practicing joyous analysis and speculation while the cruel outside world only thinking in terms of us against them and black and white morality criticizes them baselessly. But it's still very sad to me that there's no place for that speculation.

Part of what is causing the backlash is imho that people are making it about favoritism with Arya way, way more than it should be. I think maybe a smidge of jealousy might be present on Sansa's part, the very bratty and unjustified well why do I even behave if other kids don't and don't really get consequences :(( kind of jealousy, but I don't think it's even in the top 10 of Sansa's emotional issues in AGOT. Also Ned is not being a better father to Arya than to Sansa, that's very obvious to me even as someone who absolutely is not lovingly rereading in detail Arya's chapters. Their interactions are sooo frustrating, he so doesn't have any more time for her than for Sansa and doesn't take her more seriously than he does Sansa. It's all very deconstructive of typical child heroine narratives - we see the Adults Are Useless trope play in the story of the bratty teen daughter and the plucky kid daughter and at the same time we read the father's pov and we know and understand why he feels he has to keep them at a distance, to impose certain arbitrary rules on them, to keep them from the amount of involvement they desire, but it doesn't make it less infuriating. Or at least that's how I think people would perceive it.

But overall I think the most significant point is that Sansa's problems wouldn't really change if she was in King's Landing alone, or with a ladylike little sister, or with Bran. The problem is ultimately that Ned is forced to bring her somewhere where she must approach her adult role but he still heroically refuses to make her into an adult before her time by letting her have information on what she's going into. The problem is Ned is forced to hatch a plan that relies on Sansa's betrothal to Joffrey, which in turn relies on Sansa's little irrational 12-year-old feelings to keep him from feeling like a monster, bc no way Ned would continue this if Sansa was unhappy with her lot - so how can he expect those little irrational 12-year-old feelings to stop being relevant when they suddenly run counter to his plans? How can he expect to revert everything to before he gave Sansa a bethrothal and a glimpse of court and her first taste of heartbreak without consequences? How can we expect the conflation of the personal and the political in feudal society won't fuck with him in every possible way lol. None of that is tied to Arya, and arguably none of that is something he necessarily could have done better.

But besides all this, honestly, AGOT Sansa if we take her completely at face value is such a meh, thinly written character that it's obvious we're not meant to take everything at face value, even if what I see there is not precisely what we're meant to be reading. But if it's not so, and she really is meh and thinly written... It's such a fandom tradition to look at the text and be like yea i can fix that. I can enrich that -which Is still, after all, a fantasy novel and not like, a Crime and Punishment to be taken in with acedemic rigor - with my transformative understanding. It's so perverse that we're in a situation where doing so will instead rouse the legitimate suspicion that you're claiming for your fave a place in the morality hyerarchy and protagonist hyerarchy that they haven't ~earned~.

It's a common criticism of fandom that loving speculation and headcanoning and analysis will be lavished on mediocre/secondary male characters in a way it isn't in female ones, and that people will then turn around and say they don't focus on female characters because they're not as well written. We've all seen that meme. Well, Sansa has always traditionally been a break in that pattern, ever since ~2014 when I started going on aso/iaf Tumblr it was so, both for the books and the show - people were always going beyond the text, were so fixated on her potential and her subtext and the way small details, small lines could be spun in meaningful ways. It is true that sometimes the Sansa you read metas about seems to be a wildly different one than the one on page, or at least a version of her taken to the next level in a way that she hadn't in the books yet. I remember reading a lot of meta that listed every small offhand deduction and correct reasoning she made in attempts to prove she had some growth or potential for intelligence and feeling happy and validated in my like for her, but also kinda wondering 'wow, think what would turn up if someone tried this kind of obsessive close reading with a character who actually does things'.

I think part of it was that the time was just ripe for the character people wanted Sansa to be at the time, that there was a desire for conversation on a bit more complex relationship with gender roles and social conformance than we were getting - I often wondered what the fandom would have been like if Margaery had been the POV and Sansa the intriguing supporting character, if people would have been repulsed by having a more active and openly grey character or if rather that would have been a beloved, effective exploration of courtly female power that didn't leave the fandom to do so much wank to fill the gaps. But part of it is also that there's a hole in asoiaf and in mainstream media in general for the female Theons and Sandors and Jaimes (and Tyrions, if people did that with Tyrion, which they don't more bc ableism/show baggage than because he doesn't Land himself to that), for characters that are completely gray and changeable and full of subtext and potential which invites you to analyse it and overthink it and make explanations if not excuses, offering a opportunity for an excercise of seeing things from the opposite point of view, characters that physically can't be analysed in a framework of who-is-more-virtuous-and-competent-than-whom. Sansa is obviously a pretty shitty substitute for that kind of antihero category, but she's the one most obviously offering herself to fill that gap - Arianne came too late and Asha started out well but didn't retain that quality in her actual POVs and Melisandre only has one chapter. Idk, I'm not sure this last part makes sense. Just the main thought that this trend of discourse always gives to me is "I wish I could enjoy Sansa the way I enjoy Theon instead of like this".

[felteverywhere]

🧸 🍔 💘 ~ dove, for science

🧸 - Does your muse own any sentimental objects from their past? What makes it/them so special?

Dove has way too many boxes of things from the past that she can't get rid of. She's her mother's daughter in that way but even when she's tried to, the woman has forced her not to throw things out. The most sentimental objects for her would probably be the stack of journals she wrote in all through her teenage years obsessively (she'll use them in her memoir one day), the playbills she has from the two trips to nyc her and her mother took and a singular purple stuffed bear that her dad and sister got her when she broke her arm as a kid.

🍔 - What kind of food does your muse usually eat? Do they have a favorite food, or favorite style of food? Do they have allergies? Are they vegan, vegetarian, etc.?

Dove admittedly tries to stay on the healthier side if she can. She doesn't actively monitor her own diet but she's definitely aware of herself in that regard. She tries to be consistent with salads and does a lot of fruit in her breakfasts but in a general sense she's pretty balanced. She has an annoyingly good diet but also doesn't find she has to worry much about what she eats. Her favourite food that isn't a dessert is probably penne alla vodka but otherwise it's chocolate ice cream. She definitely has a sweet tooth.

💘 - What is your muse like when they're in love? What does your muse find attractive in someone else? What are their love languages? How do they show affection? Do they show any distinct signs that they're in love?

Dove in love is... a little clingy. She likes to be in touch, she's not the type of person who could casually go a few days without talking to her significant other. She falls hard and fast, typically and in the past there have been people who haven't responded well to it. She likes to excite the person she's with and keep them on their toes, if she can. In someone else she finds confidence attractive, being taller than her is definitely a bonus. She likes dark hair but is not super picky about features. Being supportive of her she finds very attractive, naturally but also someone who doesn't want to compete with her. Ambition too. As far as love languages go she would say all of them including making playlists because she thinks all are necessary in a relationship, but she finds physical touch the best to give and finds gift giving and acts of service the best to receive. Definitely very affectionate, big fan of casual affection and she's not really worried about PDA. She's always getting attention anyway. Distinct signs of her in love would be vaguely titled playlists popping up on her Spotify, an influx of her posting quotes from whatever romance novel she's reading and probably her not shutting up about the said person she's in love with.

[the-mediaeval-monk]

The Completely Unerotic Adventures of Brother Cellanus, Volume I: Chapter 4

Read on AO3!

Rating: Mature

Categories: An extremely chaste and cheerful monk/a transfemme prostitute with a knife

Fandoms: Original Work Viktor Athelstan's Tales From The Monastery Universe

Characters: Original Male Character(s) Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Historical Fantasy Prostitution Monks Medieval Religion Demons Catholic Character Trans Character Queer Themes No Beta We Die Like Christ Period Typical Attitudes Dark Comedy Knives Male-Female Friendship Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Magic Cock I hate that I have to use that tag but this is just kind of where we're at right now

Words: 26,202

Chapters: 14

Summary: Brother Cellanus is imprisoned by Father Abbot and contemplates his mission and his feelings towards Hervör.

Chapter 4: I Am Now Imprisoned And Am Thinking About Sinful Things But I Think I Can Handle It, I Just Want To Get Out Of Here

Father Abbot gave me a horrible whipping for using the money he gave me to go to the brothel. He also locked me in the abbey’s prison cell like he promised. I think I have been here for at least three hours.

It’s been a very long three hours.

And I do not know if he is serious about me being locked in here forever.

Sighing, I stare up at the stone ceiling. It’s very dark so I don’t see much. I hope there aren’t any spiders in here. I am terribly afraid of spiders.

I am also terribly afraid of how pretty Hervör is. As she cannot possibly be my sister, I do feel a good amount of lust for her. While I don’t remember my sister’s name, I do remember her face and the fact her secret place looks different from mine.

We lived in a hut after my parents were slaughtered by Danes. Once I saw her when she changed her clothes after bathing. I vaguely remember asking her why she didn’t look like me. She said that was how women look. I suppose she was wrong about that in some cases.

Seeing as I may never leave this prison cell again, I will take this time to control my lust for Hervör. If I don’t, demons will invade my dreams and then I will be sticky.

It’s shameful to be sticky.

Read the rest on Ao3!

[fanartfunart]

Fly Away

Episode 1: Paon Lilas (*Lilac Peacock)

Ao3 Link (If I actually continue this, check my Ao3 of the same name “Fanartfunart”.. Considering how much mental real estate it’s taking up, I probably will.)

An au in which Adrien didn't succeed in trying to 'sneak' into brick and mortar school and therefore also didn't get the Black Cat miraculous..... but he did find a pretty peacock. (It's in his house... I mean....) Ladybug and Féline Sombre (Who uses She/They. Black Cat hero name thanks to @broadwaytheanimatedseries) get some help from the mysterious peacock miraculous holder, but Ladybug isn’t sure he’s 100% doing this for good.

Warnings: Canon typical violence.... Not much else? Tell me if I need to add anything.

A/N because Brick and Mortar schoolers never know that’s what they are: "Brick and Mortar school" is a homeschool/online school method of reference to in-person schools before calling it “in-person” was a thing. I 100% think Adrien would use that phrasing. (if the writers knew it existed...Tho. Idk if there's a French equivalent)

-*-

Adrien knew he shouldn’t be doing this. This was a worse idea than trying to sneak his way into brick and mortar school. He’d only seen it by accident. He wasn’t even doing very good at committing to breaking into his father’s mysterious safe. This was the third time he’d come back down to find out what was behind that painting.... He should really not be doing this. But...a secret compartment behind his mother’s painting was just… too interesting to ignore. He unfurled an umbrella to cover himself from the cameras his father probably had in the room. Inching his way to the painting of his mother. 

...He had had far too much time to think about this. He only had to punch in the code once (his mother’s birthday- frankly, his father really needed a code harder to guess), for the safe to click and unlock.

The contents… were not what he anticipated. It looked like a keepsake box, not a super secret compartment. He ghosted a hand over the frame of his mother’s photo, blinking away the lingering sadness. ...A peacock brooch? He picked it up, tumbling it in his hand. It almost hummed with energy. He tilted his head, brow raised.

Footsteps.

Adrien frantically closed the hidden compartment and glancing for a hiding place. The umbrella closed over his head just as he dove for the curtain. That… might bruise. He flattened himself against the windowsill, going on his tip-toes on the barely-there window ledge. 

From the distinct clack of dress shoes on the floor, his father had entered the room. Adrien held his breath, hearing his father’s footsteps come closer. A strange whirr. Then silence. Adrien stood there for a long moment, feeling the edges of the peacock brooch dig into his clenched fist. Heart hammering. But father never called for Natalie, or his bodyguard, or moved, or anything. It was eerily quiet. The umbrella peaked out of the curtain. He popped open the umbrella to find… no one. 

"What?" Adrien whispered to himself. He frowned, and tiptoed out from the window, before racing out of the room, down the hall, and outside. Once safely in the garden, he dropped the umbrella. He slid down into the grass, taking deep breaths. 

The brooch vibrated.

Wait. The brooch vibrated? He opened his hand. He had to shield his face from the burst of light. He opened an eye to see… a tiny… hummingbird? No, it was a peacock. Why is a peacock… floating? And Tiny? And why isn’t he sneezing? Are miniature peacocks hypoallergenic? “What the...”

“Ooooo, hello!” The creature said cheerfully, “Lovely weather isn’t it? Beautiful flowers! Nice to be outdoors for once isn’t it? Are you my new miraculous wielder? You’re so cute! You look almost like…” tears welled up into the miniature peacock’s eyes. Adrien looked around frantically. It kept talking unintelligibly between sobs, gesturing vaguely.

“Are you… okay?”

“Noooooooo.”

“Right. Er-” Adrien frowned, clearly it wasn’t going to make sense if he asked what was wrong. He opted for distraction. “Do… you want something to eat?”

“Oh sure!” The tiny peacock’s tears cleared up immediately.

Adrien blinked at the sudden change in mood and nodded “Let’s… Let’s go get you something to eat… I guess. Er, what are you?”

"Oh I'm Duusu, a kwami, I can grant the power to hone emotions into constructs."

He tilted his head. The image of Ladybug summoning her Lucky Charm came to mind. "Like… a superhero? How?”

"Well you are transformed by a magic phrase, and once transformed, you can create a sentimonster out of vibrant emotions. Whoever holds the Amok, the item imbued with power, can control the sentimonster."

“Oh, cool!”

"It is! Do you have any mangoes? I love mango."

“We’ll see.” Adrien glanced at the peacock brooch and stuffed it into his pocket. He looked back at the door inside, then Duusu. “Actually, can you… hide? Just for now-”

“Oh yes! Don’t worry! I know the Kwami and our wielder's identities are a secret.” The kwami zipped into Adrien’s over-shirt inner pocket and settled there. It felt… almost natural. He smiled a bit to himself and went to find out if they had some good fruit for the tiny peacock. 

-

The TV played in the background while Duusu had another sudden breakdown about… something. Adrien still wasn’t sure what. He was starting to feel very out of his depth. 

“Duusu.... Duusu. D- Duusu, do you want to talk about it?” There was a pause before the tears flowed even harder. Adrien was reminded of a sprinkler.

His eyes were pulled to the TV, with a flash of red and black blurring on the screen. Followed by an Akuma. Ladybug and Féline Sombre. He glanced at the Kwami. “Duusu… you mentioned you can give me powers, right?”

“Mhm! You just have to say ‘Spread my feathers.’”

“Alright! Duusu-”

“OH! Wait I didn’t-”

“Spread my feathers!” The transformation felt so natural, like he was made to do this. He struck a pose and smiled behind the fan that materialized in his hand. “Alright, let’s go help Ladybug and Féline Sombre.”

He didn’t expect to start… feeling, seeing emotions. Although he supposed that made sense for the power set. They were everywhere- it was like being dropped into the deep end of a pool, surrounded and covered. Fear, worry, frustration, annoyance, determination. Stronger emotions felt… bigger, somehow. The world was full of colors and feelings he’d never expected. He lept across rooftops, feeling like he was flying. His own elation from the truest sense of freedom he’s ever had in… ever; a bright vibrant bubble. He stumbled to a stop as he spotted Ladybug.

Ladybug was determined… and scared? He didn’t expect that from Paris’s hero. She kept looking around, searching for a plan. The redhead cat hero dove in from above and smacked the Akuma with their baton. Her baton was then immediately captured and swallowed by the plants under the Akuma’s control. Féline Sombe pulled desperately before eventually giving up and vaulting towards Ladybug. She was scared too, he noticed, and frustrated.

The Akumatized person was angry. So so angry it was overwhelming. He almost couldn’t see the person behind their anger. “It’s only a matter of time before Chloé Bourgeois and the litterers of Paris pay!” The plant-covered Akuma cackled. 

Chloe?! Well that’s not good. One of his only friends is in danger?

“Bonzaniac is just gonna grow bigger if they go anywhere near the Eiffel. We need to prune this plant before it’s unmanageable.” Ladybug told Féline Sombre, wrapping her yo-yo around the Akuma’s legs, straining to control Bonzaniac’s movement.

Féline Sombre gestured widely, “If I touch them I’ll just become Cat-nip! How are we supposed to stop them?”

Ladybug called her Lucky Charm, ending up with a polka dotted fishing pole. “How’s that supposed to help?” 

The peacock hero frowned and… Chloé? What’s she doing here? Bonzaniac noticed her as well, it seemed, because the plant growth reached toward her. Chloé’s fear grew rapidly and immediately. He plucked a feather from the fan, imbuing it with power. He dove from his perch on the roof down towards Chloé and Bonzaniac. 

“Fly away, darling amok.” The feather fluttered into Chloé’s necklace. He grabbed a traffic cone and hurled it at the plant tendrils, keeping it from touching Chloé. Féline Sombre quickly took over the idea, batting away the tendrils with a trash can lid. (That made Chloé cringe.) A purplish mask of light illuminated Chloé’s and his own face. “Chloé, I am…er- Paon Lilas. I can sense your fear. Let me help you turn it into safety. I can grant you a construct to protect you.” 

“Then just do it already!” Chloé cried, “Please just don’t let it turn me into a sticky sappy gross tree!” A large golden bear materialized in front of Chloe. It roared and Chloé gasped. “Mr. Cuddles!”

Ladybug was... understandably confused. “What? Another Akuma?” She furrowed her brow and deepened her fighting stance.

“OH! No no no, uh, I’m Paon Lilas." He flourished his fan with a bow. "I’m here to help.”

Ladybug’s suspicion grew, but he didn’t have much of a chance to explain himself as Bonzaniac roared and turned on him, aiming their plant tendrils towards him. “Hey! I’m not really the roosting type of bird!” He dived for cover behind a car, patting himself down, “Come on, is the only weapon I get a fan? Why couldn’t I get a baton or something like that?”

The gold bear attacked Bonzaniac, knocking them down. Bonzaniac grappled the bear in plants, taking the plants away from protecting their back.

Ladybug gasped, "There! They only have so much plant matter! Féline, destroy as much plant matter as you can, Paon, distract Bonzaniac! I'm going Akuma fishing."

The two other heroes nodded. 

"Cataclysm!" Féline Sombre yelled, summoning black destructive energy around their hand. She ducked and weaved towards the center of Bonzaniac's plant mass, jumping out of the way of grasping tendrils. 

Paon Lilas whistled "Hey Bonzaniac, have you heard about Fast Fashion? I use all my outfits that way. Never worn the same shirt twice!"

The Akuma roared "All. That. WASTE!" They focused a massive amount of plant matter towards him. 

"Didn't think that'd work so effectively," he muttered under his breath. He lept out of the way, and back around the bend of the car. The plants wrapped up around the car. He whooped in triamph.

Féline Sombre finally managed to hit Bonzaniac, severely reducing the amount of plants in their control. Ladybug swung the fishing pole and caught a necklace from in the middle of the thicket of plant matter. She crushed it under foot and captured the purple butterfly that fluttered out. 

Mr Cuddly the sentibear sat on the Akuma victim. Paon frowned and glanced at Chloé. The gardener looked dazed and confused.

“Now who do you think you are?” Chloe said, crossing her arms.

The gardener smacked the side of the over large bear. “Wh- you! You littered in my garden! And refused to simply pick it up!”

“So what? That's not my job," Chloe huffed, crossing her arms. The sentibear huffed with her.

Paon snapped his fingers, pulling the amok from the necklace, the sentibear disappearing. Chloe gasped, pouting.

"Mademoiselle Chloe," Paon sighed softly, "How would you feel if someone threw trash into your beautiful hair and refused to help clean it up?" Chloe grabbed her hair, and Paon saw her horror at the concept. "Exactly. That garden takes just as much work, or more, as your hair. I suggest apologizing."

She pouted, "Fine, your garden was pretty or whatever, sorry I messed it up." She flicked her hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. "There. I apologized."

Féline Sombre and Ladybug chatted in the background. Féline grabbed their baton and with a light salute, she vaulted away. 

Paon's Miraculous beeped. That... meant something right?

"Birdy!" Ladybug called, walking toward him, her own Miraculous beeping. "Where did you get that Miraculous?"

"Oh… um…. Funny story-"

"I'm sorry, but you need to give it to me. It doesn't belong to you."

"What?" Paon took a step back, "Why?" 

"It's been lost. I'm going to take it back to the original owner."

Paon paled. Did Ladybug know his father? Or did his father find the lost miraculous without giving it back? Did his father know what it was? What would happen if his father found out he took it? The bubble of elated freedom popped. "That… sounds like a great, morally right thing to do… but… consider…” He took a soft step back, glancing up to find a path of escape, hands raised surrender. “I can't. Sorry, bye!" Paon ran, leaping up and away.

Ladybug moved to go after him, only for her miraculous to beep again. Sabrina had run in just in time to comfort Chloé, so Ladybug sighed and ran in the opposite direction.

Adrien tripped over himself as he detransformed in a back alley. His legs weak, and head dizzy. "Woah- is that normal?"

Duusu looked up at him with sad eyes. "I meant to tell you. The miraculous is broken... If you continue to use it... it will hurt you."

"... Does it hurt you?"

Duusu thought for a moment. "The transformation? No.... It is nice... to see another use it's power so kindly."

Adrien glanced down. He looked at the broach clipped to his overshirt. The lightness... the freedom. He nodded firmly. Unclipping it from his shirt and instead clipping it in his inside pocket. Hidden. "I'll be careful. Come on, let's get something to eat...” He rubbed his head, “I feel like we both need it."

-

Marinette just barely managed to make it to the bakery before the afternoon rush.

"Marinette! How was school?” Tom called, opening his arms for a hug. She happily took her place in her father’s arms.

"Not great.. Chloé caused another Akuma."

Tom sighed and shook his head, releasing her with a pat on the back. "At least we have Ladybug and Féline Sombre. Come on, if you can't learn in peace at school you can learn some more Dupain-Chang classics!"

Marinette chuckled and nodded, heading over to get ready to work behind the counter.

The door chimed, signaling the entrance of a young blond. She stared at him. He seemed oddly familiar. She started picturing him against all the blonds she knew, although her brain was still somewhat stuck on the Peacock Miraculous holder…. She really needed to talk to Master Fu about that. 

The boy stumbled. He was just about to faceplant into the counter before Marinette, intending to catch him- shoved him. He fell on his rear instead. 

“OH, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Marinette cried, moving to pull him up to his feet. He was surprisingly light, ohmy and now she just manhandled him like a human doll.

“It’s okay! You saved me from what was probably a worse fate.” He giggled awkwardly, "Thanks... I’ve been.. a bit dizzy today, I guess."

"Oh, I hope you feel better, anything I can do to help?"

"Heh, I was looking for food. Got some, er, fruity stuff?"

"Fruity, fruit. For sure, fruit." Marinette stared at him a bit longer. Finally the images and fashion magazine clippings clicked next to the boy’s face. She gasped "Adrien Agreste! You're Gabriel Agreste's son! He’s my favorite fashion designer!"

He laughed awkwardly. Rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah… That’s… that’s me."

"You probably hear that all the time, sorry! But! Fruit." She walked over to the counter and gestured at the prepared goods. "Macaroons are always good, and there's some a couple of fruit Eclairs, brioche and jam-"

He smiled somewhat stiffly, before frowning at the eclairs. He made a subtle 'come here' gesture. Marinette looked down at the eclairs herself, unsure what exactly made him frown.

He sighed, adjusting his overshirt. (Duusu settled nicely into the pocket again, glad to have been able to choose his treat.) "I think one of those is good.... Er... actually, I think two." 

He handed her the money, and she handed him the pastries. "Thank you."

She smiled, "Thank you! Come again soon. Just try not to trip, that's usually my thing."

He laughed. "Actually…” He takes a bite of his eclair, with a smile “I think I will definetly try to come in again."

"Oh! Okay, cool!"

He waved and walked out of the establishment with a small smile.

Tom leaned over as she watched him leave. "Flirting with the customers?"

Marinette gasped dramatically, "NoOo dad no. He's... just a friend."

Adrien leaned against a wall and sighed. Duusu floated up into view, taking a section of eclair. "Ah young love..."

He shook his head, "...She's just a friend..." He gasped, glancing back at the bakery with a smile, "A friend."

-

Marinette frowned, "Wait, Master Fu, do you think he could be working with Hawkmoth?"

"It is a possibility. I wouldn’t be surprised if the butterfly and the peacock had been nearby each other. If you can find out where he found it, it may help us find Hawkmoth.”

“Hm, he didn’t seem like he was with Hawkmoth. He was helpful... And he actually got Chloé to apologize?”  She was still bewildered about that. It wasn’t the best apology ever, but she still actually did it.

“The peacock wields the power of emotion, Peon Lilas will be able to sense emotion. He can very easily use that information to manipulate others into doing things for him. Even something as simple as an apology.”

She frowned, considering, “I think I understand.”

“Be careful, the peacock is not to be underestimated. Make sure you and Féline Sombre are prepared for what he might do next."

She nodded firmly. "I will be.”

-

Gabriel Agreste stared at the paused frame from the newscast on his newest enemy. Emile's painting ajar and missing a vital item. "Natalie... Where is the surveillance footage for this room?"

She silently pulled up the footage, scrolling through to find an umbrella blocking their view of their thief.

Gabriel growled under his breath and stood up. "Time to catch a runaway bird, it seems. See what you can find from the rest of the cameras in and out of the building. If there's anything or anyone out of place, you tell me immediately."

"What will you do sir?" Natalie asked, already scanning through footage on her tablet.

"Someone found and stole the peacock miraculous from right under our noses. I need to find a way to protect my identity and a lure for our heroic peafoul.”

[jessiebanethedragon]

Scuttle (2/?) Crosshair x reader

Part two warnings: mentions of death, death of loved one (sorry) 

Crosshair quickly decides he likes the rain. It’s got a way of blending in so nicely with the rest of the planet that he thinks it would be bland without it.

“Anything?” Hunter asked into the comms, and various grunts and groans of ‘negative’ filled his ear. They’d landed in what looked like an abandoned house, it was situated in the branches of a very tall, and very old tree. How anyone would have managed to climb it was a mystery. 

“How do we even know what we’re lookin’ for?” Wrecker grumbled as they rappelled down the enormous trunk. 

“All we’ve got is that they answer to the name Wren apparently it’s some animal on this planet.” Hunter grumbled, looking over a tech, expecting a lengthy explanation of what exactly a ‘Wren’ was. 

“Fairywren are small birds that  live in typical families of small groups, they come in brilliant colours of purple and blue. Very rare in the galaxy, but common to this planet.” Tech immediately replied, as their feet crunched into the ground. 

“Okay, Bad batch, let's make this quick.” The sergeant ordered before taking off into the undergrowth. 

It had been hours and they were no closer to coming across anyone or  anything that looked like a Fairywren. Keeping to the outskirts of a small town crosshair watches as a group of Trandoshan guards (from the look of their intense armour) patrolled the streets. 

“What are they doing?” He thought aloud to himself, toothpick ever present in his mouth. His concentration broke when he heard someone laughing at him. A group of teenagers were sitting under a broken piece of metal. 

“What does it look like, Laserbrain?” one of them sneered. “The trandoshans are only good for one thing. The hunt.” Crosshair doubled his pace. 

You were running faster than you ever had before, and for longer than you thought was physically possible. Your one and only advantage was the extent of your knowledge of the forest paths. The guards would be faster and run longer, they had keener senses than any human, and you knew if they put out a warrant, anyone and everyone would turn you in. But you were so close. So, so close. 

It was called the Night Lake by the locals, the canopy here was so dense no light illuminated the water below, giving the area a terrifying essence. But also ensured much needed privacy, and in this particular case, somewhere to hide. You threw yourself into the waters, letting the slightly chilly water envelop you. At least four of them had been on your tail and you knew more of them were waiting at the edge of the city, should you try and circle back. 

You swam as deep as you could manage, before stilling in the water, suspended in perfect anxiety as you watched its surface for any movement. Flares began to light up the dark sky and the water below as they tried to clear the area for your whereabouts. Closing your eyes you prayed to anything listening for them not to find you. 

Turns out. No one was listening. 

Crosshair was sprinting in the forest, creatures disturbed by his arrival scattered in every direction. The Trandoshans had taken off moments before answering a call that he couldn't interpret. But his experience and intuition told him to follow. 

It was then that he faltered and fell down the edge of a small but very muddy hill, being followed only by more water filled dirt that almost buried him. Cursing he pulled himself up, checking his whereabouts for signs of a trap. 

“So small for such trouble.” Something hissed to his right, clearly unaware of the clone that had just tumbled into their presence. His eyes snapped forward, four Trandoshans sat at the edge of what was the largest and darkest lake Crosshair had ever seen. 

“Shall we let her drown or yank her out ourselves?” One asked with a snicker. 

“The general wants her alive, something about having fun while making an example.” The first one spoke again. “Right, enough is enough, Drisk get her out of there.” with a nod towards the water, Crosshair watched as the slimmest Trandoshan (who was probably still twice the size of the sniper) dove into the black waters. The ripples dissipated for a moment before the reptile emerged carrying a struggling young girl. She was sopping wet, and struggling and turning so much they had no choice but to dump her in the mud. 

“Now, now little roach, don't run off.” The leader laughed as she started to claw her way through the mud, reaching down he grasped her ankle and yanked her into the arms of the other two reptilians. Crosshair lined up his rifle, he could take out the two grasping the girl and then worry about the leader after. He had the Trandoshans in his sight when his comm crackled to life again. 

��Crosshair, you missed your check in time, you still out there?” it was Tech, curse him and his punctuality. Because now the other two huge beings were dragging him out of his hiding place. 

“Well, would you take a look at this. A clone!” Crosshair was forced to his knees in front of the leader as it spat at him.   

“Crosshair! Come in!” Tech shouted into the helmet, thus resulting in it’s not-so gentle removal from Crosshairs head. He watched as Tech’s voice faded away as the bucket rolled into the lake. 

“Now that the rude interruption is gone, you wanna tell us whatcha up to in these parts?” he said kneeling down and meeting his newest captive eye to eye.

“Bird watching.” Crosshair deadpanned. Really not feeling in a chatty mood at that present moment.  

“Really?” the reptile hummed in thought, pretending to actually believe his answer. “Have you seen any birds yet?” 

“No.” Crosshair told him with a smile, “Saw some Bantha-shit - looking lizards though.”He didn't see the flying fist coming, but he sure as hell felt it. 

You clamp you both of your hands over your mouth. Hard. in the smallest attempt to muffle your screams. You can't tell the difference from lake water, rain water, and tears. But you know you’re wailing at an unforgiving volume. Your mother's blank eyes stare at you. A single blaster to the head. Your father, you got a blaster to the face is now unrecognizable. You don’t know which is worse. Krexx didn't even bother to keep you restrained, knowing that the horror of what he made you witness would be enough to paralyze you into compliance. The sound of conflict falls on deaf ears as you continue to shriek from your converter of what once was the family home. 

The Clone, whose name you either didn't know or couldn't remember, was cuffed to one of the ceiling's support beams by a pair of binders, only just coming to a hit to the head like that will do you in. you watch him lift  his head with a groan, the tattoo on his face covered by layers of mud. He starts pulling at the binders before his eyes meet the figure in the corner. 

You’re curled in a fetal position, still screaming bloody murder into your hands. And barely, Crosshair sees that the fingerless gloves you wear are embroidered with a bird. A bright blue bird. 

“Wren.” He grunted out, the pieces all coming together as his brain shakes the fuzz away. You don't move. “Wren!” he shouts over your tears. And you fall into more of a silent  sob, looking over at him. “I need you to get these off of me.” he gestures to the binders with a shake of his hands. You recoil in the corner and shake your head, your cries are picking up volume again. 

“Wren, please” Crosshair all but begs. The sound of battle is getting closer and closer. “I need you to uncuff me.” His voice  barely registers in your brain. You know you have to move but you feel like you physically can't. There’s no fight or flight left in you, and it appears your entire system has short circuited as a result.   

“We are both going to die if you don’t get me out of  these kriffin’ binders!” Crosshair renewed his struggles as he shouts at you. But one look at you says that would be a preferable outcome for your current state. So, he switches tactics and tries to remember everything Tech has ever told him about shock and trauma. 

“Wren,” he tries once again, softer this time. “I can help you, I can help you out of this. But I can't do that if you don't get these off of me.” Your eyes meet his. ‘Progress’ he thinks. You don't know how you do it, but you try to stand. 

“Just keep looking at me, okay?” The clone who you don't know speaks again, and your eyes meet his. You stare not into his eyes, more like past them. You're not focusing on anything you're just taking one step after another until you reach where he’s awkwardly strewn up. 

“There's a release button on the-” He starts to tell you, but you're already reaching up with shaky hands and fumbling around until they drop to the floor with a horrible clank. Immediately Crosshair jumps into action checking by each window and door and gathering all he can in terms of intel. 

“We need to move, before anyone-” He trails off again when he’s seen that you’ve slid down the wall that he was against. Curling back into a ball. Slowly, he approaches you. He knows the protocol for a clone with shock, but what you're going through looks completely different all together. And Crosshair, well, let's just say there was never any training for caring for a civilian girl whose entire life just got destroyed. 

“My name is Crosshair.” He whispers to you, crouching down to our height. You look at him with wide eyes. “Is it okay if I carry you to a safer spot?” You nod in response fumbling with your arms to lock them around his tall frame. His strength surprises you, as he lifts you with relative ease. And slowly the adrenaline wears off and you sink into his arms, vaguely you feel him pull your head into his shoulder the blasts sound deafening now as he runs through the uproar caused by the execution of an innocent family. Your family. Crosshair tells himself he pulls you closer so that you are not recognized. And that he does it so you don't have to see that carnage. But mostly he does it in hopes that you feel just a little more safe, and a little more calm in his arms.  

tags: @mangoberry43 

[arpeggio-the-parrot]

The baby is here! Well, he’s been here, but now he has a ref!

Arpeggio Junior is my fanbaby with Arpeggio because I am that trashy. Though, he’s now technically Arpeggio and my birdsona’s kid because that’s a looot less weird and easier to explain.

Oh yeah, I don’t think I ever told y’all that my headcanon surname for Arpeggio is Plumewall and he’s a species of macaw that I made up! 

Read below for bio, personality, and relationships info!

NAME - Arpeggio Plumewall Jr. (also known as “Arpeggio Falco” on legal documents and “Arpy”, affectionately)

SEX - Male

D.o.B. - 2 June 2005 (Age 15 y/o as of 6/2/2020)

SPECIES - Hybrid Avian (Golden macaw (Ara aureus) X Peregrine falcon (Falco peregrinus)

BIO

Arpeggio Plumewall Jr. was conceived just prior to the events of the end of the Sly 2: Band of Thieves, and hatched in the room of an English inn somewhere in the countryside. During this time, his father, Arpeggio, was absent and believed to be deceased, and so Arpeggio Junior spent the first several months of his life with only his mother, Samantha Falco, and his father’s former housemaid, Lucille Quillsby. Though he hatched prematurely, he has no lasting physical setbacks that his early hatching might have resulted in. The avian women eventually left the United Kingdom for the United States; specifically to Samantha’s hometown of Deerkill, New York, where Arpeggio Jr. would grow up.

Despite his father’s criminal history and his mother belonging to a known syndicate of thieving families, Arpeggio Jr. currently lives a rather typical life in the otherwise odd and mysterious town that is Deerkill. His parents nor other household members no longer partake in crime for Arpeggio Junior’s sake, though he’s only vaguely aware of his parents’ criminal history.

Arpeggio Jr. is currently a sophomore and the president of his class at Deerkill High School, where he often partakes in electives and extracurricular activities pertaining to engineering and art.

PERSONALITY

Arpeggio Jr. is a passive and introverted young bird. He is moderately self-conscious of his very own existence as the offspring of two former criminals, and as a result refrains from forming close friendships with others out of fear of blowing his family’s cover.

Arpeggio Jr. is a skilled manipulator when he wants to be, using his positive image built up by his high grades and exemplary behavior to his advantage in covering his tracks. Despite his parents’ discouragement of him being involved in any mischief whatsoever, Arpeggio Jr. relishes the rush of the occasional prank or other forms of typical teenage mayhem.

Like his father, Arpeggio Jr. has a keen interest in inventing, which began to show from a very young age as he would build rather complex structures and contraptions using his toy wooden blocks. He is also quite fond of the fine and performing arts (though more so the former) and regularly partakes in drawing and painting as a secondary hobby while participating in his high school’s choir as one of the lead tenors.

He is rather sensitive towards feral (wild-type) animals, particularly birds. He has a tendency to take in small injured ferals from his outings in the woods around his home, and sometimes ends up crafting his own devices and other mechanisms that aid in his patients’ physical rehabilitation. 

Likes 

- Creating things (concepting/building inventions or drawing/painting)

- Exploring in nature

- Partaking in minor acts of teenage mischief

Dislikes 

- Rainy weather

- Law enforcement figures

- Mr. Brett Douglas, the school choir instructor

- Loud noises such as thunder, fireworks, gunfire, etc.

- Sentient robots (weird innate fear he has)

Misc. Facts

- His favorite music genres are punk rock and grunge

- He’s extremely allergic to avocado, like his father

- In terms of food, he’s a huge fan of Italian dishes

- His voice sounds like that of Ned Bigby from Ned’s Declassified

- He has generalized anxiety disorder but manages it rather well on his own

- In his later teenage years, he comes to identify himself as grey asexual

RELATIONSHIPS

Samantha Falco-Plumewall

Samantha, a peregrine falcon, is Arpeggio Jr.’s mother and primary caregiver who cares very deeply for and is very protective over her only child. She named him after his father, who was presumed to be deceased at the time of her son’s hatching and for several months after, to honor his memory. In Samantha’s eyes, Arpeggio Jr. is not only her son but a miniature version of her husband (this is also due to Arpeggio Jr.’s own interests and hobbies, which are very much influenced by Arpeggio’s) who she must try to “remodel” so as to prevent him from meeting a similar fate similar to or worse than his father’s.

Though she and her husband, Arpeggio, are legally married, she has their son’s name on all legal documents with her surname so as to not attract the law’s attention to the family, which was something she, for whatever reason, didn’t consider when literally naming her child after a fugitive wanted by INTERPOL at the time.

Arpeggio Plumewall

Arpeggio Plumewall Sr., or simply Arpeggio, is (obviously) Arpeggio Jr.’s father. Arpeggio only knew of his son’s existence when he decided to locate his secret lover, Samantha Falco, after months of being in hiding. Being one who never wanted children due to his own “faulty genes”, Arpeggio did not take well to finding out he’d become a father during his time on the run. Although, in his desire to reintegrate himself to society as a typical law-abiding citizen, he reluctantly came to accept his new life as a husband and father in some rural American town, though it took a while for his parental instincts to kick in.

Arpeggio Jr. is strikingly similar (if not identical) to his father in his physical appearance, which has lent to Arpeggio’s view of his son as a new version of himself--though not to be involved in any criminal schemes.

Arpeggio Jr. looks up to his father, believing him to be a famed English engineer who was exiled/deported from his home country instead of being imprisoned for some vaguely-explained crime. He does suspect something more to his father’s past as he gets older, though his father will only feed him new hints of information every now and then, telling him only what he deems his son can handle--and forbidding his wife from divulging details of his past without his consent.

Though Arpeggio comes off as a stern and aloof father in the eyes of many, he does genuinely care about his son and wants nothing more than an easy, lawful life for his only child. 

Lucille Quillsby

Lucille Quillsby, or simply “Lucy”, a white dove, is Arpeggio’s former personal maid. She remained with Samantha after the events of Sly 2 and helped her care for an infant Arpeggio Jr. in Arpeggio’s absence. Lucy is an aunt-like figure to Arpeggio Jr., though he refers to her as his grandmother to others given her noticeably older age compared to his mother. Lucy would normally be offended by this, but permits Arpeggio Jr. to do so given the family’s situation. Lucy has a strong motherly instinct rivaled only by the boy’s biological mother’s and, given her tumultuous relationship with her former boss, is very quick to criticize Arpeggio’s parenting.

Milo Beakley

A stocky toco toucan who was the former head of Arpeggio’s personal security force, Milo currently resides with the Plumewalls as the family’s bodyguard. Milo is regularly tasked with accompanying Arpeggio Jr. on the boy’s “solo” adventures in the woods or around town. While Arpeggio Jr. doesn’t dislike Milo, he hates being shadowed by him and often finds ways to lose him on their outings. Though not a fan of the bodyguard aspect of Milo’s role in the household, Arpeggio Jr. and Milo often partner up for more rigorous physical activities in which the boy’s father cannot partake due his own physical shortcomings. 

Brett Douglas

Mr. Brett Douglas, a turkey vulture, is the choir instructor at Arpeggio Junior’s high school. Though he possesses a friendly demeanor with a dry sense of humor, Mr. Douglas comes off as “creepy” and “off” to many of his students, especially to Arpeggio Jr., who fascinates Mr. Douglas due to his name being that of a musical term. Arpeggio Jr. is highly suspect of Mr. Douglas and, with some of his peers, has created a small, secret organization with the goal of “exposing” him.

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area - Chapter Eight

Previous Chapter Here

Warning: Language. NSFW. Unprotected sex (be careful guys)

Notes: Apologies this is a little (a lot) longer than planned, but hope you enjoy it!

CHAPTER EIGHT

Chris knew this would more than likely be the last time he would see his friends for a while. The reshoots loomed ever closer, the knot in his stomach was getting tighter, and he was growing more and more unnerved at the prospect of what was lying ahead of him. He was determined to make the most of this night as much as he physically could.

He showered and made himself vaguely presentable, ignoring the navy Chanel sweater and trousers that had arrived earlier that morning and opting instead for a plain white tee and jeans. His favourite red belt made a special appearance. He began regretting his decision to allow his management team to redecorate his pad in order to make it “friendlier on the eye” as soon as he took stock of his open lounge. They’d shifted some of the furniture around, added some fresh flowers and balloons here and there, and taken down the photograph of a family trip to Disney that used to be hanging in the entrance hallway. There was also a distinctly sweet and fragrant smell of freesias wafting through the air. It smelled like Springtime and positivity. He hated it.

Just a few “unfiltered” photographs, they said. Nothing too intrusive of stressful. Now, however, they were looking to cover up the potential fall-out from his fling with Jenny after she’d helpfully announced the day before that she was starting divorce proceedings. Matt had taken to messaging him at half-hour intervals to remind him his house needed to be bustling with as many people as possible even if he didn’t know them all personally. He needed to look carefree, he was instructed, and unbothered by whatever may be going on in somebody else’s private life because it had nothing to do with him, right? Maybe flirt a little bit. Bring out the “big guns” and the Boston “bro” personality his fans loved to see. For God’s sake, just try to look as single as possible.

People weren’t due to start arriving until 7 but it didn’t stop Chris from drinking almost as soon as he had woken up, calling on Scott and a couple of his oldest pals to come and join him for some pre-party beers. 

“Woah.” said Gary, walking in closely behind Scott, carrying a crate of Budweiser. He rook one exaggerated sniff of the perfumed air surrounding him. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say we’d come to the wrong place!”

“Are we allowed to touch anything?” joked Scott, mocking him by tip-toeing in past the guys.

“Don’t ask. Just do whatever you like, please. I need it to at least feel like it’s still my home.” Chris scratched his head in disbelief. It looked more like something featured on the ‘gram of a would-be influencer than the home of a 30-something bachelor who had no time for soft furnishings and Feng Shui.

“Bro, it’s your birthday! You could at least look happy about it.”

Chris wasn’t drunk enough to muster much more than a half-smile at his brother at that point but figured a few more beers might encourage him to lighten up. He must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed. He was about to follow the lads into his kitchen when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. If it was Matt bugging him one more time, he swore he’d throw the phone out of the window.

     Unknown 1.09pm

     Happy birthday sweetie. Can’t wait to see you again x

“Who’s that?” said Scott as he emerged from the kitchen, beer in hand.

Chris just shook his head. “I have absolutely no idea.”

Gradually as the hours passed by, a steady stream of people started making their presence known. Most parties Chris threw rarely went off as originally organised but he didn’t much care. It was always implied that his downtown apartment had an open-door policy when it came to friends and family turning up unannounced. Hell, many would stay for days at a time and he wouldn’t care. If he was holding a party or a game night, people could just show up whenever they felt like it even if Chris himself wasn’t awake or ready to greet them in person. 

The vibe soon started picking up and the music was louder now. Scott had made various playlists and was doing the duty of hosting people better than Chris, who had been glued to his phone on and off for most of the afternoon. More and more of his friends arrived with their partners and Chris would give them a bro-shake but pretty much leave them to it. It was...odd. He wasn’t sure what was going on but he was growing concerned that his brother wasn’t much enjoying his birthday celebrations. The table in the hallway was rife with gifts and cards, and the beer and alcohol levels were not in danger of diminishing any time soon. Chris had gone overboard on catered food but he himself had yet to touch anything. That was a danger sign, Scott thought. Last thing he needed was a drunk and melancholy actor on his hands this earlier in the evening. Thankfully, Chris perked up as soon as he saw his mom and Shanna arrive, and Scott breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hello darling. Happy birthday!” Lisa called out to him and embraced him in a typical motherly hug, all stretched arms and smiles, running her hand under his chin as he pulled away. “How is everything?”

“Yeh, all good. Thanks mom. You look great!” Chris moved in to kiss her on the cheek again before pulling back to allow Scott his turn. “Wow, Shan, I really didn’t think you could make that shade of yellow look even more grotesque but you did it!”

When she was sure Lisa couldn’t see her, Shanna flipped him the bird. Chris feigned offense before wrapping his arm tightly around her shoulders and walking her towards the lounge. “Baby sis, you can’t be mean to me on my birthday.”

“Ugh...I really can’t handle you when I don’t have a drink in my hand.”

“Then let’s fix that!”

Chris shifted past a few friends, all greeting him and patting him on the back as he and his sister moved by. Several faces he didn’t recognise so Matt would be proud of him, he thought. “So, is Sarah travelling separate to you guys?” Chris asked, finally taking one of the wrapped boxed out of his mom’s hands.

“I think so. Do you want these in the fridge or in the pantry for later?” Lisa asked indicating the cupcakes she’d been asked to pick up on the way over.

“Um, just leave them there for now, it’s fine.”

Before he got a chance to speak to his mother again, it was too late. He watched as she was grabbed by Josh and his new girlfriend and started to make her way around her son’s oldest friends, greeting them all as though she hadn’t seen them in years. Shanna reappeared next to him, rifling through the bottles of vodka until she landed on her favourite. 

“Is Sarah not coming then?” Chris asked, more concerned this time than no one seemed to know exactly where she was.

“Not if you’re going to continue being a dick to her, she’s not.” Shanna turned around to Chris’s fridge and began perusing the selection of mixers. “Where’s the cranberry juice?”

“It’s inside the door.” He responded. Shanna couldn’t see for looking but finally located the carton of juice and poured a fraction of what she needed into the glass before topping it up with a very generous amount of vodka. “I was kind hoping to apologise to her in person actually. Is she still really upset? She hasn’t answered my texts.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, you were out of like, Chris. But yes, she’ll be here, I’m sure. I think she just had something to do first.”

Chris knew Shanna was hiding something from him. She was a terrible liar.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He grabbed the glass from her hands. “I am not looking after you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, Grandpa. I’ll make sure she gets home safe.” Scott reappeared alongside them, merrier than before and holding a small plate of food for Chris. “Why don’t you ‘mingle’ mingle? Your audience awaits, kind Sir.”

Just as Chris was about to protest, his phone vibrated again in his pocket.

Unknown 9.22pm

I hope you’re having a great time tonight. The party looks amazing! Can’t wait to catch up with you properly x

*

At some point around 10pm, Chris escaped. He retreated to his little hideout behind a tree that gave him a clear view of his property without the pressure of being spotted by anyone inside. His phone had buzzed a couple more times and he was now sure if was Jenny reaching out to him. She’d been leaving little heart emojis on some photographs that had already appeared online. He felt a little sick and just needed to get away from the crowds, now tipsier than he was, annoyingly. He took the cigarette he’d bunged from a friend and lit it, savouring the feeling. In that moment was possibly the calmest he’d felt all day.

“Who are you hiding from, birthday boy?” Chris knew it would be Scott who would find him eventually.

Chris shrugged. “No one. Just needed the air.”

“Yeh right. Mom knows you smoke by the way. No point hiding it now.” Scott took the cigarette and took a slow drag before handing it back to him. “Zach hates me smoking inside.”

“Is that why you started running?” Chris smirked.

“Running’s healthy. It’s all about balance.” Scott observed his brother for a moment. “What’s going on? You’ve been quiet all day. You’ve only had, what, three beers? That’s not like you.”

Chris shrugged unconvincingly, avoiding eye contact before his phone buzzed again. He quickly dove into his pocket to grab it but shifted uncomfortably when he saw who it was.

“Somebody’s keen.” Scott didn’t need to ask to know who it was. He could read his brother like a book. “Can’t believe she hasn’t got the message by now.” Scott continued to eye him, unsure of what was going through his head. “That’s not what’s got you down, is it? There’s nothing going on, is there?”

Chris glanced at his brother and shook his head. He knew he’d been caught out and at this point he was too tired to deny it. “I still haven’t heard from Sarah. I’ve tried apologising and it’s like she’s just ghosting me or something.”

“Stop being melodramatic. She lives with your sister. She’s not “ghosting” you, you dick.” His attempt to lighten the mood between them fell flat and he realised humour was going to be wasted on Chris this evening. “She’s got a lot on her plate right now, what with Charlotte and work and everything. Just give her a break, OK? It’s a tricky think she’s trying to navigate here.”

“I don’t know about that.” He shook his head slowly, crushing the cigarette under his shoe. “I said she was being ungrateful.”

Scott sighed. “Well, that’ll explain it. Hey, remember when Shan was a teenager and she got all those letters out of the blue?” Chris nodded at the distant memory. “I think the one thing we need to keep in mind here, with Sarah, is that she chose to reach back. She’s doing things her way and no one is forcing her. That’s gotta be a positive, right?”

*

Sarah felt like an idiot. She had no one to blame but herself. She couldn’t even lean on Shanna for support right now and she didn’t want to disturb Audrey at this hour if she was mid-celebration with Michael. She threw her coat on the stand and stood in the hallway of her apartment, bag swinging low. She kicked off her shoes and took off her tights to feel the coolness of the floor on the soles of her feet. It was a small comfort. The text message was still showing on her phone that was grasped in her hand as if she hadn’t been staring at it for the past three hours.

Charlotte 7.52pm

I’m so sorry. I thought I could do this. Please forgive me.

Sarah had decided to arrive at the venue a little earlier than they’d agreed to meet. She didn’t know what she was planning on doing by deciding that but she just knew she couldn’t sit around the flat any longer, her stomach was tied in knots. She hadn’t eaten much of anything that day but claimed she was saving herself for the extensive catering Chris would no doubt have laid on now that his guest list had multiplied.

She had spent some time getting ready with Shanna and Lisa but left her hair and make-up quite simple figuring she could add to it on the way to the party later on. She didn’t want to make an unfair first impression on Charlotte. She knew she didn’t want to look like she was a party girl but equally so, she didn’t want to appear to have given too much thought to what she was wearing to meet her in the first place. She wanted to remain as casual as possible which was some kind of weird irony given what was taking place.

She managed to make a relatively quiet exit as Lisa was helping zip up the back of Shanna’s jumpsuit telling them she’d be there as soon as she could. They didn’t ask her any questions. She just left and got into the cab that was waiting for her around the corner. A little under fifteen minutes later, she was outside the bar, trying to regulate her breathing. Maybe Charlotte was already inside? Maybe she had had the exact same thought and was having one for courage before they met? That thought made her laugh a little. She opened the door and gave her name to the rep who proceeded to show her to a nice booth in the far corner. Charlotte hadn’t arrived after all but Sarah had a clear eye on the door, as much good as it did her.

She poured herself another glass and wiped at the tears in her eyes. She couldn’t believe she had been reduced to crying over someone she had never met. She couldn’t believe she had allowed herself to assume everything would work out despite evidence to the contrary.

Everyone was right. She was a fool.

She heard the door go but couldn’t face seeing Shanna. She swiped at her face as much as she could, trying to remove any and all hints of her crying. Shanna told her once she was jealous of how she could cry without her skin getting all red and blotchy.

She clocked the time and realised it was perhaps a little too early for her to be coming home unless Scott had shoved her into a taxi, which wouldn’t have surprised her. Loud music and a free bar were Shan’s undoing. She composed herself and waiting for Shanna to appear in the doorway, worse for wear, but everything had gone silent. Sarah got up and walked out of the kitchen, not sure what to expect but certainly not expecting to find Chris stood with his back against the foot, keys dangling between his fingers. He seemed smaller somehow.

His expression briefly turned towards guilt when he noticed she had been crying. He made a move towards her before ultimately deciding against it, preferring to remain still in her hallway. He looked awkward which was a feat in itself for someone who always seemed so...cool, she thought. It didn’t last long, though, a steeliness soon returning to his eyes.

“Hey,” said Sarah diffusing the silence. She suddenly became hyper-aware she was in the Chanel dress he’d given her to wear for his birthday party, the party she should have been at hours ago but instead chose to blow off carelessly in favour of meeting somebody who really shouldn’t have mattered. Shit, she thought. She was a terrible friend. “I’m so sorry, Chris. I really don’t know wh-”

“-You know, I could have done with seeing you there, Sarah. It’s been a fucking terrible day, I’ve had my team hounding me over this Jenny bullshit and having my friends around me would have made all the difference.”

“I just,” she wasn’t sure where to go from here. He’d become so cold in the last few moments. She wasn’t really expecting it but knew she’d pushed her luck a little too much this evening. “I had something I needed to do first, and-”

“I don’t ask for much from my family but the one thing I do expect is that they turn up when they say they’re gonna turn up. You understand me? It’s my fuckin’ birthday after all and you couldn’t even manage that.” He moved past her, ignoring the tears now burning at the corners of her eyes.

“Alright Chris, you’ve made your point.” she whispered. The room felt too small and Chris looked like he’d grown a foot out of pure frustration. She just wanted to go to bed and forget this day ever happened or at least get Chris to leave so she could feel pathetic in peace.

She could detect a faint small of tobacco coming from his breath now he was standing closer to her. “What was so important that you couldn’t make it? Must have been amazing to blow us off like that and please don’t tell me it was Greg. I didn’t think you of all people would sack family off for some fuck you’re ambivalent about at best.”

She felt like a scolded child. Actually, no, it felt worse than that. It felt like he was picking at her, trying to get some kind of reaction out of her but what that reaction was, she didn’t know. She took a breath and calmed herself. Her hands were shaking. She was pretty sure he noticed now.

“It wasn’t like that,” she said, as calmly as possible. “I’ve said I’m sorry, Chris. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, OK? Your family and friends were there and I was planning on dropping by.” She pleaded, her tone striving to be a little more even. She figured if she tried reasoning with him instead of pushing back it might allow them both to get out of this unscathed but he just scoffed.

“Dropping by? Well, gee, thank you for making me an afterthought, Sarah. I really appreciate that.”

“It’s not just you that’s had a crap night, OK?” She shouted before reigning herself in. She really didn’t want to fall out with him on top of everything else. “We all have shit to deal with. At least people turned up to see you. They care about you. They didn’t just leave you hanging around, wondering what you’d done wrong.”

Chris looked confused. He signed and placed his hands on his hips, unsure of what his next move would be. “What’s going on?”

She could feel herself tearing up again, her face getting hotter by the second. She hated crying in front of people and it invariably gave her a headache, one she’d most likely fail to overcome before bedtime. “I arranged to meet her this evening. I didn’t want to say anything to anyone until I’d seen her at least once but, um, she didn’t show.”

For once, Chris didn’t have any answers. If he had been thoughtful instead of the selfish asshole he recognised himself to be, he would have known to have shut his goddamn mouth. “Fuck, Sarah. I...I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry.” He took another step closer to her but she made no effort to react towards him. “You don’t deserve this.”

Sarah audibly scoffed. “Well, that’s a maybe. But hey, look, happy birthday! Looks like you were right all along! I’ll make sure to wrap it next time.”

“If I’d have known what you’ve been through today, I would have shut my mouth. You’re one of my best friends and I was just thinking of myself, like always.” He leaned against the doorframe and Sarah recognised how pathetic they both looked in that second.

“What kind of person do you have to be to reject someone twice?” Sarah whispered to herself more than anything. She gently banged her head against the doorframe in thought. She wasn’t looking for a response.

Silence passed between them for what felt like hours. They were good at being quiet around each other, neither feeling the need to dispel energy and not caring what the other was doing but this didn’t feel like those times before. She glanced across the doorway at him but didn’t recognise what was looking back at her so intently. He looked like he’d been suspended in motion and if it wasn’t for her tapping her foot on the wall behind her, she would have thought she had, too. Everything just seemed a little fuzzy now and there was a headache threatening her from behind her eyes.

Before she could move again, Chris had crossed what little space there was between them and went for her, his hands grabbing her face and pulling her into him. It was messy at first, their lips slightly out of line with each other and she couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe. He’d taken the breath straight from her, it felt like. The only thing she could do in that moment was to grab back at his hands that were holding her face but she didn’t feel like pulling them away. Not just yet. For the first time, she had some power over what was happening to her. She was tired of being a good person, being vulnerable for others to use whenever they felt like.

She felt his lips slowly move across hers, calmer now, while she stayed almost still in his grasp. She felt one hand leave her face and reappear on her lower back and he pulled her in to bring her closer. They must have occupied less than a square foot of space stood like this. Everything was silent apart from what Sarah assumed was her heart beating or perhaps that was his? She couldn’t separate them at this point, a perfect fit soon only disturbed by the shrill buzz from someone’s phone in their nearby vicinity.

“Fuck!” Chris whisper-shouted pulling away from her, biting his bottom lip. Sarah scrabbled around to find her bag in the hallway before signing when she saw who it was. She took a breath so as not to give the game away.

“Shan? No, it’s fine, honestly.” Chris could only hear one side of the conversation as she spoke on the phone but could instantly tell from Sarah’s inability to get a sentence out that Shanna was drunk and giving her the third degree. He wanted to grab the phone and smash it against the wall. “No, it’s no problem. Don’t worry, OK? Yes. Yes, I’ll see you in a bit. Alright. Bye, lovely.”

Sarah had turned away from Chris at this point and looked down at the phone in front of her. She pursed her lips, embarrassed that she could still feel him on her. She thought she might have been imagining things but that was definitely his hand gently touching her on her hip where he’d held her just moments ago. She turned around to face him but one look into his blue eyes and she felt like she was going to collapse on the floor. She was pretty sure he could feel her shaking but he kept his grip on her, trying to work out what she was thinking. She just shook her head slowly and in confusion at what transpired and walked out of the kitchen, down the hall to the bathroom hoping to get some privacy and some cold water on her face.

She didn’t get very far. Chris followed her and grabbed her wrist, swinging her back towards him until she crashed against him again, unsteady on her feet. There was no time to think before his lips were on hers again, harder than they were before. He had his arms around her waist and started walking her backwards towards...something, she couldn’t register what. 

She briefly resisted his movements but after a few steps or so he made do with the wall next to her bedroom doorway. He pressed her hards against it, his hands now back cupping her face. She could feel how hard he had become with the way he pushed his crotch into her in an attempt to keep her still against him. She knew she didn’t want to break away again, she was tired of fighting and was ready to let it just wash over her. She grabbed at his sweater with both fists and moaned into his kiss.

She shoved him until he felt his back meet the opposite wall. The groan that left him was nothing short of filthy and something inside her snapped when she felt his hands fist in her hair while the other slipped down to grip her ass. She felt him pull up the hem of her dress, his fingers gently skimming the back of her thighs. He grabbed at her just underneath her ass and pulled her against him harder than before until they lost their balance and she ended up on top of him as he slid down the wall and hit the hard wood floor beneath them. They’d have bruises tomorrow but they didn’t care.

He desperately grabbed at the hem of her dress again, this time to feel her soft skin between her thighs. Her skin was so smooth and not to the touch, he couldn’t bear it. She felt like she was on fire. He managed to pull her panties to one side but she felt them rip as she furiously gripped at the belt on his trousers. He worked out pretty quickly what she was trying to do and took over for them both to release himself as quickly as possible. In one move he placed her where he wanted her. He heard her sharp intake of breath and looked up just in time to see the look of pleasure on her face as he entered her, perhaps harder than he had intended to but she didn’t seem to mind.

Her eyes closed. He could see the blush covering her skin and her neck and he reached out to pull her face back to him as he motioned for her to move on top of him. He filled her, thrusting into her as much as he could from this angle and briefly regretted not keeping them up against the wall. He knew it would be over in a matter of seconds at this rate. They were both struggling to feel something. Make something of this godawful day.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the way she was moving. He felt her wavering slightly as he quickly approached his own release, her eyes open now and looking down at him. Their staggered breaths were the only sound filling the space. He was so close and he knew she would be too but he couldn’t ignore the look of fear growing apparent on her face. The glazed look in his eyes felt like electricity coursing through her veins. She didn’t know it could feel as exciting as it did to be encouraged along by him like this, his hands firm on her hips, gliding her up and down, keeping him firmly inside her. She had to look away and she began to move faster, slightly out of rhythm now, scraping her knees against the floor on either side of him, pain that only served to heighten the pleasure.

She could feel him throbbing inside her as his legs began to shake and his breathing quickened. The sound of them both hitting the floor over and over again only served to push her on even more against her better judgement. It was too late to stop now. They would just have to deal with the consequences another time.

He tried to hold off from his own orgasm for as long as possible. He wanted more than anything to see her hit her peak as he held her hips tighter and moved her so she could take him harder. One of her hands pushed back against the wall behind him in order to find purchase and it was this move that ultimately caused them both to hit the point of no return.

He didn’t know who came first but it didn’t matter. After a few moments, their breathing started to even out, their skin showing that unmistakable sheen of sweat that only sex could give. Without thinking, he wrapped one arm around her waist and stroked the strands of hair out of her face. He wanted her to look at him as she continued to get her breathing under control but her eyes were too tightly shut. He look scuffed up from their actions and his pupils were blown wide open. She couldn’t even imagine the state she was in. If he could have found a little strength to speak in that moment, he would have told her she was more beautiful than he’d ever seen her look before. Perhaps wisely, he decided to save that for another time.

Oh fuck.

Sarah’s brain went into overdrive as she gradually came back to reality. Chris was trying to figure out what was going through her mind as he felt her slip off him and shuffle herself to the side, pulling the hem of her dress down in a rather redundant effort to protect her modesty. Her underwear was left wrapped around one ankle as she tried to move onto her knees to stand up. She wiped at her mouth with the side of her hand and in that moment, he thought she might start crying again.

“Fuck.” She rubbed her face with her hands. He didn’t think she meant for him to hear that. It was the last thing he thought he would hear her say. He made a grab for her hand but she avoided his grasp as she stood and, on shaky legs, walked back into the kitchen leaving him ruined on the floor against the wall, shaken in more ways than one.

She couldn’t register her surrounding. She felt like she was about to throw up. How could this have happened? How could she be so stupid?

She held herself as she contemplated all the things she would need to say to him to try and make this better. No words made sense in her mind and those that did, she could barely string together to form coherent sentences. She heard Chris enter the room behind her but he stopped just inside of the doorway seemingly as unable to speak as much as she was. This was bad, she thought. So fucking bad. She felt embarrassed when she eventually clocked his messed-up hair. He looked dazed by the whole thing. No doubt his back would be bearing the brunt of their heavy mistake.

she finally reached his eyes and was met with a shy smile and a look she didn’t quite recognise. Was it pity? Concern? Regret? All of the above most probably, she couldn’t quite tell.

“Sarah,” he whispered, swallowing. “I’m....” He took a couple of steps forwards, holding his hand out to reach her, offering what he thought would be some kind of solace.

“I think you need to get back to your party,” She said calmly, deflecting the situation, tears forming in her eyes.

“Sarah, please, I don’t want...”

“People are going to be wondered where you are, Chris. You should go.”

Chris tried to focus on her face in an attempt to find something there other than the shame she was failing to hide. He wished he could get to her but the space she was putting between them felt wider than the kitchen they were stuck in. Resigned, he bowed his head slowly and turned to leave half expecting, or possibly wanting, her to stop him.

*

[cherietm]

there's     cherie     hoxha     !     though     on    their     socials     they     go     by     @darling666     .     i     heard     she     is     originally     from     london     ,     england     ,     but     made     the     big     move     to     los     angeles     to     join     TWENTIES     .     you     haven't     heard     about     it     ?     well     ,     apparently     their     dream     is     to     become     a     notorious     makeup     artist     ,     but     they     have     no     chance     unless     they     quit     being     so     avaricious     &     mulish     .     that     said     ,     those     behind     the     scenes     have     said     they     can     be     ebullient     &     maverick     too.     guess     we'll     have     to     watch     and     find     out     !     ━     &     dancing     to     the      beat     of     your     own     drum    ;     precariously      navigating     a     world     in     which     you     have     never     felt     that     you     belonged     ,     relishing     in     the     spotlight      but     knowing     there     remains     a     side     of     yourself     that     you     must     always     keep     hidden     ,     90s     hairstyles     &     00s     fashion     sense     ;     always      fantasising     about     decades     that     have    been     &     gone     ,     cherry     flavored     everything     ,     &     a     wrinkled     nose     when     you     laugh     .     (     dua     lipa     ,     cisfem     ,     she/her     )     (     orla     ,     she/her     ,     gmt     ,     21     )

hiya     doves     !     i'm     orla     (she/her)     ,     i'm     21     ,     &     i'm     the     captain     of     this     ship     !     i     really     did     retype     this     entire     intro     because     i'm     never     satisfied     <3     but     i'm     forcing     myself     to     post     it     now     regardless     because     i     can't     wait     to     get     plotting     with     u     all     !!!     if     you'd     like     to     plot     pls     hit     the     like     button     or     shoot     me     an     im     !

down     to     the     𝓫𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓼...

full   name   :   cherie   mariam   hoxha   . nicknames   :   cher   . gender   &   pronouns   :   cisfemale   ,   she/her   . sexual   &   romantic   orientation   :   pansexual   . star   sign   :   aries   spoken   languages   :   english   ,   albanian   .   appearance   :   hair   dyed   half   black   &   half   blonde   ,   garish   eye   shadow   ,   smudged   mascara   beneath   the   lower   lash   line   ,   bushy   brows   ,   tattoos   with   an   ever-changing   story   behind   them   ,   cat   eye   sunglasses   ,   a   furrowed   brow   teamed   with   pouted   lips   ,     rosy     cheeks     .

the      𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂...

expectations     weighed     heavy     on     cherie's     shoulders     from     the     moment     her     parents     first     held     her     sonogram     .     she     was     their     rainbow     baby     ,     their     happy     ending     ,     everything     that     their     money     &     fading     fame     could     never     buy     -     and     cherie     has     always     been     acutely     aware     of     that     .     

much     to     her     parents'     disdain     ,     cherie     didn't     turn     out     to     be     the     perfect     cookie-cut     child     they     had     envisioned     .     she     was     brash     &     eccentric     ,     wanting     not     only     to     be     seen     but     heard     .     she     would     set     eyes     rolling     with     her     sharp     tongue     ,     &     it     was     attention     that     they     grew     to     resent     .     they     tried     ,     they     would     argue     ,     but     she     was     just     too     difficult     ,     always     too     much     .    

eventually     cherie     was     shipped     off     to     boarding     school     ,     only     to     be     swiftly     shipped     back     after     she     was     expelled     for     unruly     behaviour     .     the     final     straw     came     when     she     withdrew     her     application     to     university     ;     her     parents     deciding     to     simply     pay     her     off     to     move     out     &     tackle     the     world     solo     .     she     began     uploading     her     work     to     social     media     &     working     freelance    ,    slowly     gaining     moderate     attention     .      twenties     approached     partly     due      to     her      blossoming     potential     as     a     makeup     guru     ,     &      partly     due     to      their      knowledge     about     her      parents     own     fame     .      she      didn’t     give     it     too     much     thought     though     as     it      was     a     chance     to     escape     &     make     something     of     herself     .    

the      𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻     𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓵𝔂𝓼𝓲𝓼...

cherie     is     very     aware     of     her     privilege     ,     but     absolutely     despises     the     environment     she     grew     up     in     .     now     she's     finally     away     from     it     all     &     living     in     a     new     country     where     nobody     knows     anything     about     her     (     yet     )     ,     she's     planning     on     making     the     most     of     it     .     ask     cherie     about     her     family     &     you'll     be     met     with     a     blanket     of     vagueness     .      

that     said     ,     cherie     is     lowkey     kinda     ...     snobby     ?     she's     not     rude     about     it     ,     but     sometimes     she     can     be     a     little     ignorant     where     money     is     involved     .    

she     has     zero     filter     whatsoever     &     really     just     says     it     as     it     is     -     which     gets     her     in     trouble     a     lot     .     (     i     can     imagine     her     slipping     up     in     interviews     n     maybe     being     TOO     honest     about     what     she's     thinking     *side     eye*     )     similarly     ,     cherie     isn't     really     one     to     sit     &     think     before     she     acts     -     she's     always     been     driven     by     impulse     &     emotion     rather     than     logic     .

she’s     a     roller-coaster     of     emotions     ;     the     most     mellow     yet     upbeat     person     you'll     ever     meet     .     she     never     really     learned     how     to     control     her     emotions     ,     so     they     kind     of     just     flow     out     at     any     opportunity     ;     she     definitely     over     shares     .     although     she'd     never     admit     it     ,     her     parents     lack     of     approval     has     got     to     her     &     despite     how     she     appears     on     the     outside     ,     deep     down     lies     a     very     vulnerable     &     sensitive     soul     .

makeup     is     her     biggest     love     -     particularly     bright     &     bold     looks     .     she     also     adores     special     fx     makeup     (     hence     her     career     claim     being     abby     roberts     )

she's     also     really     into     her     art     ;     she     loves     doodling     &     photography     &     giving     herself     little     stick-n-poke     tattoos

it's     really     been     the     only     thing     she     can     see     herself     doing     with     her     life     ,     the     only     thing     that     actually     manages     to     capture     her     typically     fleeting     attention     .    

the     𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭     𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼...

connections     from     back     home     in     london     .    

a     budding     bromance

partner/s     in     crime

a     makeup     squad     ,     or     alternatively     ,     somebody     she     uses     as     a     muse/model     for     her     makeup     looks    

a     muse     for     her     other     art    

fwb    

unrequited     crush

will     they     won't     they    

frenemies     /     other     faked     connections     for     the ��   sake     of     the     show    

sibling     like     friendship

good     /     bad     influence

straight     up     just     ...     dislike

confidant 

[irmacornelia]

I had a Kalinor fic that I never got around to finishing that im going to cannibalize ideas from for my longfic, so have some of the bits I do have and will probably never finish;

Title: Untitled Kalinor Drabbles Pairings: Kalinor, Cassidy/Nerissa Tags: Pining, minor language, canon-typical violence and angst Rating: T-ish

Apparently everyone has been having the same dream. For a week and a half straight.

Nerissa laughs and suggests magic.

You retort that if you had some fancy magic power, how come you burn the toast every other morning?

Cassidy grins and tells you that you are just bad at cooking.

-

Three months later you are fighting for your life with your friends at your back. This is a much better way to burn energy and rage than tennis. You think that this is the last year you will have an extracurricular like that (or at all -what with how Kandrakar doesn’t give a damn about your education). 

You duck a sword and twist heat and sparks into your palm to shove into your assailant's chest. Fluid and practiced, Kadma twists around and slams a boulder into him as you lean out of the way. A brief moment of eye contact and half-formed :feelings: thrums between you and you both leap back into the fray.

You work well together, your brawler-esque fighting compliments her fluid and reactive style. Yan Lin flits about to deliver death from above and to watch out for threats as Nerissa commands the most amount of attention by your enemies to divert from Cassidy going for the objective. Nerissa is very flashy and does her job well. It’s worked enough times that you and your companions have it down to a routine. You and Kadma pull the grunt work, Nerissa is a massive and threatening distraction tossing lighting and energy blasts, Yan Lin scouts and provides air cover, and Cassidy does the stealing/activating/rescuing. Not that you and your friends can’t do other jobs, but it works best that way. Everyone has a task to do without any prior organizing. Nice and neat and simple(if fighting could be called neat and simple).

Searing another few vaguely humanoid bird-ish enemies and ignoring the acrid tang of burning feathers, you feel like you could do this forever.

-

You have been doing this for a year now and it shows. Strangers are afraid to make eye contact with you, and you have toned muscles underneath your obligatory dresses. You do average in school and while your parents aren’t too happy at the slight drop, it’s doable. You are often tired and busy, and you are quite a bit more confident (because you can kick most everyone’s ass and you have bigger problems) and get into fights a lot during downtime.

You are so much closer with your companions now, as well. You wouldn’t have dared sitting that close with anyone before. You wouldn’t have dared to lean against Kadma while Cassidy braids your hair and chats about most anything.

Its helped, in part, by the telepathy. You and yours had begun to lean on it quite a bit to explain motives and :feelings:. Twining your Presence with someone mentally was oddly pleasant and comfortable, like a sort of warm hug but for your feelings and not your body.

Explaining this caught giggles from your friends.

Kadma was pretty when she laughed.

You were so screwed and couldn’t ever explain why.

A week later you are nimbly jumping across rooftops with your wings aflutter (they are now almost two feet long each and feel a bit sturdier, but they can only slow your fall a bit). You follow Kadma and Yan Lin with Cassidy on your heels as Nerissa blows up the front gates to a stronghold.

You try to avoid the thought that you would be so very lost without being able to fight for your life.

-

It’s been two years since you became a Guardian and you are nearly an adult. You have never dated anyone (you couldn’t -you like girls) and Things are going wrong. You don’t know when they started going wrong, but they are. Maybe it started when Nerissa began a harsh training regimen after a close shave on some world you can’t even begin to pronounce the name of(all harsh clicks and sounds no human throat can make for long without becoming hoarse). Maybe it started when The Council refused to give important information one time too many. Maybe it had always been bad, but no one noticed.

Cassidy came to you one day and told you that she was worried about her.

“Sometimes- Sometimes she talks about scary things, Im not really sure I should say what, but I-i’m really worried.”

She wrings her hands and leans back on the park bench.

“I- um We, um, w-well, she sometimes wakes up screaming and-and I think our, ah, Job,”

Cassidy says with emphasis in-case anyone was listening in,

“Is-Is getting to her. You, ah, you know she does risky things but I can’t help but fear it going to get worse. I, ah, I care about her. A lot. And I don’t know what to do.”

Cassidy trails off toward the end into a whisper. You suppose that’s confirmation enough that they are involved with each other.

“I know.,” You say, “I’m not sure what to do either. Maybe the others might be better help, but we can get through this.”

You both are very much aware how the last group of guardians all died before you were even appointed.

You don’t talk about it.

Your research spree to try to find things to aid Nerissa served more as nightmare fuel than solutions, so help from outsiders was out. Thus you ask the others what to do about Nerissa’s increasingly snappish and reckless behavior the day after.

Yan Lin offers up the idea of distraction during downtime, and you all jump on board. If you can distract her from your other life, perhaps she would relax a bit.

And so you and the others spent a lot of time in-between missions trying very hard to be ‘normal teens’. Cassidy taught the group how to dance over the course of a few afternoons and you all end up at one of the local soda fountains about once a week. Nerissa also spends her time composing songs on her flute again, she names one of them after herself and gives Yan Lin a handwritten copy of the sheet music when asked.

For awhile you feel like it’s like it was Before, and you feel happy and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, but you still feel extra energy to burn curling in your gut. You know Yan Lin is always paying more than a little attention to what’s going on, who is where, and where all of the exits are. Cassidy is stuck to Nerissa’s side like glue and Kadma barely speaks half the time.

(You still all walk silently and twitch at the sight of flashing lights and the sound of metal screaming on metal)

You get a few group shots of the five of you and pretend that the flash didn’t feel like magic firing on you.

-

You had been spending quite a lot of time with Kadma these last few weeks. In the effort to wind down from constant missions from Kandrakar to far off worlds, you had all tried to do only mundane things with mixed results. You’re pretty sure Cassidy leaves glamours on her bed in the mornings to go sleep at Nerissa’s house without getting caught.

You yourself use telepathy with the others nigh-constantly and your tea never goes cold.

You learn that Kadma can sometimes get :Impressions: from animals while you and her go feed birds at the park. Simpler than ones from you and the others, she says, but there all the same.

You brush your magic against Kadma’s and inch closer.

“Can you show me?”, you say.

Her hand brushes against yours in return and sparks of flame burn along your spine.

The corner of her lip curls upwards and she passes along :Impressions: from the Dove pecking at a sunflower seed a few feet away.

You feel more distracted and fuzzy than you have in ages and Yan Lin grins at you the next day like she can tell and you shoot her a :??:.

She rolls her eyes and replies :Warmsafefuzzy-Presence more-than-before:.

She taps her fingers gently on her desk and leans back a bit, :Kadma-and-you?:.

The thrumm to that last Impression nearly made you choke on air.

You suppose that would be fitting considering whom you are Communing with.

:Almost:

The teacher begins her lecture and that was the end of that.

The rest of the group knows you can heat your body temperature to nice and toasty levels and this is exploited mercilessly once Heatherfield started getting chilly. You are only slightly affronted the first time Cassidy ‘calls dibs’ on one of your shoulders. When Kadma leans against your other shoulder your half-formed complaint turns to smoke on your tongue and you just obligingly turn up the heat.

Yan Lin gives you a wink from her spot at the stove next to the teapot when Kadma shuts her eyes and humms in contentment. You nearly throw the nearby pillow at Yan Lin for the following eyebrow wiggle, but you don’t want to ruin the moment.

[mischiefandspirits]

Mystery Meat: Hamburger

S01-E01, part 2 of 3: Danny’s finally getting the hang of his ghost powers... maybe.

Last time on Living Phantom ~ Next time on Living Phantom

“You okay?” Sam asked as she and her best friends came into the hall outside the cafeteria.

“He’s fine, no thanks to you,” Tucker said.

Danny ignored them as he peeked through the kitchen door to see an elderly woman floating inside. She was green-skinned and glowing, but otherwise looked like the typical cafeteria worker.

Tucker poked his head in as well and said, “Shouldn't be so bad. She looks a little like my grandmother.”

Danny stepped inside. “Shouldn't she be haunting a bingo hall?”

The woman turned to them and floated closer. In a sweet voice, she asked, “Hello, children. Can you help me? Today's lunch is meatloaf, but I don't see the meatloaf. Did someone change the menu?”

Tucker came in and pointed back at Sam as she followed. “Yeah. She did.”

The ghost suddenly doubled in size, her hair becoming white flames as green ones began to rise from her body. “YOU CHANGED THE MENU? THE MENU HAS BEEN THE SAME FOR FIFTY YEARS!”

Well, it's about thyme then, Danny thought as he spread his arms to protect his friends. “Get behind me!”

“Wow. I feel safe,” Sam deadpanned.

“I'm going ghost!” He raised his hands and the rings washed over him. He flew up to the ghost, only to hesitate when he got there.

What was he actually supposed to do? It’s not like he could just toss her back through the portal when it was halfway across town.

“I command you to… go away!”

She didn’t seem impressed by his very threatening order and sent piles of dishes at him.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus. He heard something shatter behind him and turned to look. He smiled as he saw the plates had all flown through him.

Progress!

He turned back to see another group of plates flying at Sam and dove down to intercept them. Almost unconsciously, he let go of the density in his legs, allowing the ectoplasm to merge into a wispy tail that propelled him forward. He placed himself in front of Sam and caught the plates, letting his energy flow over them to keep them piled on his arms in near-impossible stacks. He then did the same for Tucker when a third wave of plates shot towards him.

He set them all down on a counter and looked over the neat stacks with pride. Then deflated as he realized what, exactly, he was proud of. “Well, if this superhero thing doesn't work out, I can have an exciting career as a busboy.”

“I control lunch!” the ghost lunch lady snarled and Danny turned back to her to see the ranges lit with green flames and bouncing around behind her. “Lunch is sacred! Lunch has rules!” Suddenly she was small and soft again. She reached into her apron and pulled out a plate with a slice of transparent cake on it.

Danny was kind of creeped out, but also intrigued. Was it part of her powers? Did she just manifest food or was it some sort of pocket dimension, like hammerspace? More importantly, could he do that?

“Anybody want cake?”

Was it ghost cake? Would it taste like normal cake? Could humans safely eat ghost cake?

Sam and Tucker nodded.

The ghost tossed the cake to the side and grew big again.

Oh right, they were fighting.

“Too bad! Children who change my menu do not get dessert!”

The ghost flew off and the oven doors opened to spew fire. Danny arced his body around the flames, only to turn to see the ranges flying towards his friends. He dove towards them, coming up from behind to grab their shoulders. He let his energy flow into Sam and Tucker like he’d done the plates then focused.

A tingling sensation went through him, then down his connection to his friends.

He jerked backward and the three flew threw the wall. Losing intangibility once they were out, they rolled across the ground until they hit the lockers on the other side of the hall.

Tucker and Sam groaned, but Danny immediately hopped to his feet with a cheer. “It worked! Finally some real progress!”

“Congrats,” Tucker said half-heartedly.

“This is the thanks I get for thinking like an individual?” Sam hissed, pulling herself up.

No need to get fired up, Danny barely managed to keep himself from saying as he helped Tucker to his feet.

His ghost-form really needed to learn to keep its mouth shut. He’d spent years carefully staying neutral on the stupid debate and he wasn’t about to let his loose ghost mouth ruin everything. If either of them thought he’d chosen their side, they’d both become unbearable.

“Do you smell that?” Tucker asked. “It smells like… steak! Chicken! Barbecue!”

“You’re delusional,” Sam snorted.

Danny forced himself to breathe in order to scent the air. “I think I smell it too.”

An ominous wind blew past them and the three turned to the origin to see various meat products flying towards them. They braced themselves, but the food flew right past. They turned to see the ghost standing at the end of the hall, the meat swirling around her before attaching to her. Her energy seemed to grind up the meat as it did so, leaving her looking like a vaguely human-shaped hamburger mountain with glowing green eyes.

“Ew,” Danny and Sam said together, then Danny flinched.

Please don’t take that the wrong way, he thought, looking to his friends. Thankfully Sam was too busy being disgusted while Tucker was looking back the other way.

“But where did it come from?” He scowled. “Lancer!”

“Focus, Tuck.”

“Prepare to learn why meat is the most powerful of the five food groups!” the ghost shrieked before tilting her head. She held up a cookie and Danny really didn’t want to know where she got it. “Cookie?”

Sam shook her head, looking nauseated.

The ghost almost looked shocked before her voice became thunderous again. “Then perish!”

“Anything for you, Mr. Obama,” Danny muttered before he could help himself, and both his friends glared at him.

Fair. Stupid ghost mouth. Go away!

There was a flash of light and he looked down to see he was human once more. “Whoops! That wasn't what I meant.”

The ghost swatted him into Tucker then grabbed Sam and flew off.

“Come on! Change back! We gotta go!” Tucker said, dragging Danny to his feet.

“You two aren't going anywhere.”

They turned to see Mr. Lancer marching up with a stern look.

“Mr. Lancer?”

“Are you two responsible for the theft of the staff’s lunch?”

Their eyes widened and they quickly shook their heads.

“Then what are you doing out here?”

Danny gestured down at his clothes, which were still covered in soup, alongside meat juice from the ghost. “I accidentally knocked Dash’s tray over and spilled his food all over us both.”

“We were going to get him cleaned off,” Tucker agreed.

“Really?” The vice-principal asked, unconvinced.

“Yes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Ask Dash. I’m sure he’ll be happy to complain about me.”

He stared them down then turned. “Follow me.”

They shared a worried look, but did so.

Mr. Lancer had them come into his office and sit in chairs in front of his desk. He pulled their files up on his computer. “Tucker Foley: Chronic tardiness, talking in class, repeated punishments for having a phone out in class. Danny Fenton: Thirty-four dropped beakers in the last month, banned for life from handling all fragile school property, but no severe mischief before today. So, gentlemen, tell me…” He stood. “WHY DID THE TWO OF YOU CONSPIRE TO STEAL ALL THE MEAT FROM THE STAFF LOUNGE?”

Danny scowled. “We didn’t, I swear! Ask Dash!”

“Oh I will, and if I find you’re lying -”

“We’re not.”

Mr. Lancer glared them down then walked to the door. “Stay here. I’ll be right back. Do not touch anything.”

They both nodded and the moment he was out the door, Danny slipped behind his desk.

“I knew he was hiding meat,” Tucker growled.

“Not the time,” Danny said, opening the security program.

“Yeah, I know. We gotta find Sam. For some reason, I feel like I got her kidnapped.”

“Maybe because you told the ghost she changed the menu? How about that?” Danny muttered, clicking through the cameras. He stopped at the basement camera near the cold room and gestured Tucker over. “Check it out. Meat trail.”

Footsteps sounded from down the hall and Tucker ran over to his seat as Danny closed the window. He leaped through the desk, landing in his chair just as the door opened and Mr. Lancer entered with Dash.

“Gentlemen, it’s your lucky day. You're free to go. However,” he held up a hand before they could run out and pointed at Danny, “you owe Mr. Baxter an apology for ruining his lunch and clothes.”

“Yeah, Fenton.”

I’m soup-rised Dash even knows what an apology is. “I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

Mr. Lancer nodded. “Go.”

Danny and Tucker ran out of the office and into the nearest bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~B~~~~~0~~~~~0~~~~~~~~~~

Sam glared at the ghost as she lectured on and on about balanced diets and healthy schoolchildren.

“The food pyramid has been debunked,” Sam snapped.

“It is a staple.”

“It’s obsolete. Vegetarian and Vegan diets are healthier and better for the envi-”

The ghost cut her off with a laugh. “My dear child, meat is good for kids! It helps them grow and makes them smile! Why won't you eat it?”

Disgusted, Sam pulled her face away when the ghost tried to feed her. “We don't need meat. That's fact!”

The ghost grew to her scarier form. “SILENCE! You need discipline, manners, respect! You know where that comes from? MEAT!” She shrunk once more and held up a chicken leg and whole fish. “Chicken? Or fish?”

“Tofu stir fry.”

“Insufferable child!” The ghost threw down the food she was holding, then was body-slammed away.

Sam smiled as she looked over her shoulder to see Danny facing off against the ghost. The smile fell when she turned back around to see Tucker using a fork and knife to cut one of the steaks from the pile of meat keeping her pinned to the ground.

“I'll have you free in no time, Sam!”

“You've gotta be kidding me. Can’t you think of anything but your stomach for once?”

“Hey! In case you’re forgetting, your stomach is what got us into this in the first place!” Tucker said, pointing at her with his fork.

“My stomach! You were the one that complained to the ghost!”

Tucker ignored her, bringing the fork to his mouth to take a bite.

The bite flew off his fork and into the air, alongside the rest of the meat.

They turned to see the ghost transforming into a meat monster again, this time twice as large thanks to all the meat in the cool room. She grabbed Danny and Tucker held up his silverware.

“Help's on the way, buddy!”

Sam grabbed him and yanked him back as the ghost threw Danny and turned to them.

“Run?”

“Run.”

They ran for the exit, but the ghost shot a mound of meat past them to block the door. They tried to run the other direction, but the ghost was right at their heels. She raised her arms to crush them, but Danny darted in at the last minute.

He grabbed them both around their waist and Sam felt the cold, staticky feeling of his energy passing through them. Then they were flying through the wall of the cool room, up out of the basement, and into the schoolyard.

Sam smiled up at her friend, then frowned at the weary look on his face. “Gee, Danny. Fighting meat monsters, flying through walls; you must be exhausted.”

“What? Of course not! What would give… you… that idea?”

The three fell to the ground as Danny passed out.

Tucker and Sam shared a look.

“What do we do now?”

Sam checked the time on her watch. “We’ve got fifteen minutes until lunch is over. Let’s just drag him over to a table and hope we can wake him for class.”

Tucker nodded and grabbed the half-ghost’s feet while she grabbed him by the armpits. Thankfully their friend had always been small and light and having nearly half his mass replaced with ectoplasm only made him lighter so they were able to easily carry him to one of the lunch tables and lay him down on a bench.

Tucker dropped onto the other bench and laid his head on the table. “I didn’t get to eat anything.”

Sam shoved him off the bench and sat down.

He didn’t bother getting up, choosing to just lay on the floor glaring at her until the bell rang.

Danny was clearly exhausted when they woke him, but managed to get to his feet and stumble into the school with Sam’s help. They thanked the stars that their fifth period PE was health class that day and grabbed their books. They were all together for the last two periods of the day so they were able to keep an eye on Danny, jabbing him in the side whenever he started to nod off. When they got out, Tucker took his bag as Sam took most of his weight. Even then, they ended up having to carry Danny the last block to his house.

When Sam got the door open, she prepared herself for any questions the Fentons might ask.

She paused.

There was smoke in the air and Mr. and Mrs. Fenton were lying on the ground in front of the door, staring into the family room where Jazz was trying to pull her hair out of a vacuum cleaner that had Fenton Works decals on it.

A typical day in the Fenton household.

Sam adjusted her grip on Danny’s legs then they headed inside.

“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton! What a school day! Poor Danny nodded off,” Tucker said as they passed Danny’s parents and started up the stairs. “We figured we'd just carry him all the way home and tuck him into bed without any parental interaction whatsoever.”

“Don't get up! We know where to go. Bye!”

They sighed with relief as they made it to Danny’s room and dropped him on his bed.

“So what now? Homework?”

Sam started to nod, then she glanced at Danny. “Actually, I should probably loosen his binder first. We don’t know how long he’ll be sleeping.”

Tucker nodded and slipped out the door. "I'll grab snacks then."

[keichanz]

Another Day in Hell

*in a horrible flirty voice* so...ya like zombies

I don’t know if there will be a part 2. i just got the sudden inspiration at work yesterday and i just had to write it. i blame @clearwillow and @bearpluscat for their horror red riding hood au that i am already hopelessly addicted to lol idk why but that one pic of woodcutter Inu inspired me and i was like “shit i wanna write him being all badass and killing monsters” and then suddenly this happened. 

whoops. #sorrynotsorry

don’t worry, i’m still working on Move Your Body and the next part will be posted soon. YRM is still in the works as well. this was just something i had to get out of my brain because i really liked the idea. like i said idk if i’ll continue it but there’s definitely potential so. *shrug* we’ll see, i guess.

please note: the title is tentative; i’m not sure if i like it but i can’t think of anything else at the moment so please be aware that it might change in the future. feel free to give suggestions. also i wrote this entire thing in a single day and it’s unedited.

fun fact: i hate zombies. i loathe them. they freak me the fuck out and the nightmare i had about them once is entirely to blame. 

anyway, enjoy. :). 

Read on AO3

Ch. 1 || Ch. 2 || Ch. 3 

You know that phrase, “Just another day in paradise?”

Well, the same thing could be said now for one Kagome Higurashi. There was just one small difference, however, because Kagome sure as shit wouldn’t call this paradise. 

The undead and monsters both of the bestial and human variety wandered the streets looking for their next kill. To trust blindly could very well mean your death so it’s easier to not trust anybody at all even when they claim all they want to do is help. The smartest thing to do was to look out for number one, question everything, and always, always watch your back. Evil lurked around every corner, hid in every brush, and nowhere was safe anymore.

No, definitely not paradise. Because this was just another typical day in goddamn hell.

Careening through the desolated streets, dodging rotting trash, abandoned cars, half-eaten carcasses, and dead bodies, a lone figure bit back a desperate sob as she looked over her shoulder with wide, terrified eyes. Covered in blood, some of it hers, some of it not, pale, and shaking, Kagome looked for a place to hide, her exhausted body starting to slow down from all the sleepless nights and lack of proper nourishment. She was cold, hungry, in pain, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to go on for much further.

She could hear them behind her now, snarling, groaning, growling and the sounds forced her to keep moving as tears ran unchecked down her face. She was being tracked, hunted by more than just the rotting undead, remembering with a terrified whimper the manic, inhuman eyes glittering malevolently down at her and the flash of cold, bloody steel as the knife plunged for her neck. She’d narrowly escaped with her life, fleeing from the crazed man she’d been stupid enough to trust and now he was after her and she knew he wasn’t going to rest until she was dead. There had been a loud bang followed by searing, burning pain in her left shoulder but she’d forced herself to ignore it, gritting her teeth and not stopping.

It was while she was escaping that she’d grabbed the attention of the undead currently giving pursuit, relentless, driven mad with hunger, thoughtless and determined and unstoppable.

Desperate, knowing that screaming for help would be useless, Kagome dove for one of the abandoned shops lining the streets, hands yanking at the door but of course of course it was locked. She let loose a sob and sparing a quick look over her shoulder with wide, frightened brown eyes, Kagome darted into the dark alley beside the shop, hoping for another way in, another doorway, a broken window, anything.

What she found instead was a heap of scrap metal leaning against the wall and knowing she was out of time, without hesitation squirmed her way behind it, ignoring the cuts she got from the sharp edges as she crouched down low and held her breath, shaking, eyes squeezed tightly shut, praying the monsters would keep on going.

Mercifully they did and Kagome withheld a sob of relief, clamping her hands over her mouth as she took a moment to just breathe. She didn’t stay long though, because lingering in any place for too long was never a good idea. So not quite recovered but left without a choice, Kagome slipped from behind her cover and carefully peeked out from the alley—

Only to come face to face with another monster, amber eyes cold and piercing, the huge sword in his hand dripping with fresh blood, and Kagome didn’t give herself time to think.

Emitting a short shriek she ran, thinking that the undead must have drawn his attention and he’d come out of his bloody hidey-hole to investigate, no doubt looking for his next victim. She heard him curse, heard his hoarse shout for her to come back but of course she ignored him, pumping her legs, breathing hard, sobbing when she detected his heavy footsteps behind her.

And really she should have realized that with the racket they were making it would once more attract unwanted attention so when she spotted the same horde of rotting bodies stumbling their way toward her, snarling and falling over themselves in their haste, Kagome really shouldn’t have been surprised.

She stopped short, trapped, the undead before her, the murdering swordsman behind her, and with a desperate sound she dove to the right, toward a sedan that miraculously still had its windows intact. She locked herself inside even though she knew it was fruitless, it wasn’t going to do her a bit of good and cowering on the floor, curled into a ball with her arms wrapped around her head, she waited.

What she heard instead of the car door being ripped off its hinges was a loud curse, excited sounds of the undead as they targeted their next meal, and then vague sounds of a fight. Grunting, snarling, low growls and wet squelching sounds were all she could hear for the next few minutes and even when all went silent she didn’t dare move, shaking, eyes shut tight, jaw clenched, waiting.

Waiting. Waiting.

A knock on the car window had her jumping in alarm but she shook her head, hunching in on herself. “Go away!” she screamed, her breath hitching in her throat, heart hammering wildly in her chest.

She heard a growl and more insistent knocking--or more like banging, really. “Open up, you wanna fuckin’ die in there?”

“Fuck off!”

With a screech, Kagome moved, unlocking the door and then shoving it open so hard the killer on the other side grunted and stumbled back from the force. She didn’t revel in the brief victory and instead made another run for it, sobbing as she ran away as fast as she could, demanding her tired body to keep moving, dammit.

Please please please please plea—

She screamed when a familiar figure suddenly dropped in front of her and Kagome made the horrifying realization that the man wasn’t human. She looked at him now with wide eyes, spotting the dog ears on his head, the sharp talons tipping each finger, and the fangs that were clearly displayed in a dangerous and...annoyed? snarl.

“Dammit bitch, I’m trying to—”

“No!” Kagome shrieked and swung her fist, landing a blow to his stomach, but the guy hardly even flinched. Tears running down her face, Kagome did the only thing she could, punching him with all that she had, kicking his legs but when a large hand suddenly clamped down on her wrist in a vice like grip, Kagome wailed.

“Wench! Fucking listen to me, I’m not gonna—!”

“Please,” Kagome begged, yanking fruitlessly at her hand, shaking her head while her free hand banging uselessly against his chest. “Please, let me go, I don’t wanna die, I don’t—”

“Fuck’s sake, woman, you’re—”

He suddenly cut off and Kagome went limp, knowing this was it, she was going to die, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do. She slumped against him, waiting for the inevitable to happen, wondering if he’d use that huge sword or the claws stained with blood.

She heard a low, thundering growl, felt it in the hard chest she lay against, and she tensed. But then he cursed - again - and muttered, “Fuck it, we don’t have time for this,” and she frowned. What—?

A strong arm wrapped around her waist and Kagome was abruptly lifted off her feet and promptly thrown over a broad shoulder. She gasped, eyes going wide and instinctively she fisted the material of his shirt at his back.

“What are you doing?!” she screeched. “Let me—!”

“Shut up,” he bit out as he started stalking back toward the shop where she’d tried to take shelter earlier. “Do you wanna alert every fucking undead asshole—fuck, you already did. Dammit.”

Before Kagome could utter another word, she was hauled back down, her would-be executioner darted into a familiar alley and he was crushing her against him, pressing her face into his chest to prevent any sounds from escaping as his arm went around her waist, a steel band.

“Don’t. Fucking. Move,” he hissed in her ear and Kagome stiffened, eyes wide as another hoard of undead stumbled down the street, perilously close to their hiding spot. She couldn’t see them but she could hear them, groaning as they dragged themselves along the blood-stained pavement, searching for flesh, creepy clicking and grunting noises echoing as they communicated with each other.

A small eternity passed as they waited for the undead to pass them by, frozen against the wall, unwilling to move even after the noises had faded away to silence. Another five minutes passed before the man dared to move, his grip loosening slightly as he sniffed the air a few times and grunted.

“They’re gone,” he rumbled and without warning swept her up into his arms. Amber eyes collided with dark brown and Kagome gasped at the intensity in them, for some reason feeling her face heat in a blush. “Keep your mouth shut, wench. I fucking mean it.”

Before she could respond - like she had even been able to anyway - he scowled and then abruptly launched them into the air. She bit her lip to stifle her startled cry and instead clung to him, her thoughts a jumbled mess, wondering for the first time if this man meant to kill her or save her. What was happening?

The guy was fast, not taking any chances in being detected by undead or other as he darted across the rooftop he landed on and swiftly dropped into an opening in the roof–a door, she realized somewhat dazedly. 

It was dark inside but the storefront windows provided a little light as he gruffly instructed her to close the door using a crude pulley system he’d no doubt manufactured himself. Wordlessly she did, a little impressed, and then afterward he was maneuvering through the darkness of the store, being cautious and ducking behind shelves nearly picked clean of all their merchandise. 

Kagome was quiet, biting her lip as she foolishly allowed this stranger to carry her into the depths of the store, pushing through the doors marked “Employees Only” into the storage room. He bypassed pallets of shrink-wrapped food and other supplies and hunger gnawed at Kagome’s stomach, but she ignored it, fearing that if she spoke up the man would react negatively after he’d told her plainly to keep her mouth shut.

She had no idea if he was friend or foe but figured it was out of her hands now either way so she did as she was told, biting her lip to quell any questions as he made a sharp turn toward the back and headed for yet another trapdoor-looking opening in the floor.

Kagome blinked. Stores had basements?

Evidently this one did, she mused as the man dropped down and this time Kagome shut the door without prompting, spotting the simple chain drilled into the underside and tugging until it was sealed above them. Pitch black surrounded her and she could see nothing. It was cold and smelled a bit like mildew but still she said nothing as he moved forward, the darkness hardly a hindrance to him and Kagome secretly marveled at that fact.

He suddenly stopped and then Kagome was blinking against the harsh glare of bright florescent lights as he flipped them on. After her vision cleared, Kagome took in her surroundings, her eyebrows rising and her mouth parting slightly in wonder.

She hadn’t really known what to expect, but it certainly hadn’t been an efficient and clean looking hideaway. Amidst the hot water tank, the plumbing system snaking across the ceiling, and a large metal box that looked to be some sort of electrical system, he had made himself a little home, complete with a bed compiled of stacked wooden pallets and a thick mattress with clean blankets and pillows.

She spotted a two-way radio on a sturdy looking table with three chairs surrounding it, a bookshelf filled with non-perishable food, and a freezer chest beside it that she suspected was filled with frozen meats and meals. There was an old television but she doubted it worked, a beat-up washing machine that acted as a cooler from what she could see, and a very old, puke-green armchair that had seen better days. A mini fridge sat against the wall with a timeworn microwave on top and beside that what appeared to be one of those old fashioned water pumps protruded from the wall, situated over a drain in the cement floor.

Kagome was impressed, and okay, yeah, a little envious. It was safe, secret, and protected, hidden from the outside world. It was a slice of paradise in a world gone to hell, a safe haven from death and disease with enough food and supplies to last for a very along time.

The man grunted, disrupting her thoughts, and crossed the floor to set her carefully down on the bed.

“Don’t move,” he rumbled her eyes followed him as he wandered over to a large chest she hadn’t noticed before, opened it up to retrieve a small bin, and came back over. He set the translucent green container beside her and Kagome received her second surprise to find it filled with various medical supplies.

Was he...going to treat her injuries? What kind of serial killer was this guy?

Or maybe...maybe he wasn’t one?

Biting her lip, Kagome refused to get her hopes up, still too frightened and wary to say anything and watched as he walked back with a cooking pot filled with water before dragging a chair in front of her, sitting down and carefully setting the water on the floor at his feet.

Wordlessly he reached for her arm and Kagome instinctively flinched back, a sound of fright echoing in her throat as her wide eyes stared at his blood covered hands. He paused, stared hard at her face for a moment with a deep frown, before taking the rag he’d gotten from somewhere, dipping it in the water and wiping off the dried blood on his claws and hands.

Kagome blinked, not expecting that.

He continued to silently clean his hands the best he could, the rag becoming a ruddy brown color and the water turning a light pink.

“You got a name?” he asked out of the blue and frowned when she jumped. He paused and studied her quietly, eyes searching the dark, terrified depths that gazed back at him.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Kagome’s lips pressed into a thin line and she ducked her head.

He rolled his eyes. “If I wanted you dead, wench, don’t you think I woulda already done it? Clearly you know what I am, and yet I still saved your ass from becoming zombie food twice now. You can trust me.”

She still looked uncertain, worrying her bottom lip and avoiding his gaze and he sighed. He could understand her hesitance; it was foolish to trust so blindly during these trying times, and he suspected she might have already made that mistake once which explained her wariness now. Still, he needed to treat those cuts and that nasty looking gash on her temple. Poor girl looked like she’d been through hell, and he was worried she might either pass out from sheer exhaustion or fever if any of her injuries were infected.

How the hell did he get her to trust him, though?

Racking a hand through his short hair, Inuyasha blew out his cheeks in another sigh and studied her, eyebrows dipped into a deep frown. His ear flicked, and then with slow movements, making sure she saw what he was doing, he dropped his hand to the Glock holstered at his hip and pulled it out. He’d gotten it from the dead body of a cop a week or so before and it was more for backup than anything since Tessaiga was his favored method of destruction.

Predictably she tensed, the color leeching from her face at an alarming rate but before she could bolt, Inuyasha flipped it around and held it out to her, the butt facing her.

She froze and stared wide-eyed at the firearm being offered to her for a long minute before lifting her dark eyes up to his, her shock evident. Inuyasha said nothing, silently waiting, his gaze steady and expression carefully blank.

Her eyes kept darting between him and the gun but Inuyasha remained patient, waiting for her to take the offered protection he knew would provide at least a little reassurance. Sure enough a moment later she slowly wrapped her fingers around the butt and drew the weapon into her lap, finger poised on the trigger while still avoiding his gaze, her face turning a light shade of red.

He fought a grin. It wasn’t loaded; he’d used up the last bullet just earlier that day when Tessaiga had been knocked out of his hand, but she didn’t need to know that. Then as an extra precaution, still keeping his movements slow, he jerked Tessaiga from the belt loop of his opposite hip and lowered it to the floor before lightly kicking it away, out of his reach. She relaxed visibly after that, the tension leaving her shoulders and she released a shaky breath.

Gratified, Inuyasha steeled himself and carefully reached for her arm again. She tensed, he paused, and waited a few seconds before trying again. She let him grab her arm this time and with measured movements, after wetting the rag again, he carefully began washing her skin of blood, both dried and flesh. He was glad to see that it looked worse than it really was, most of the cuts superficial and already clotting.

“My name’s Inuyasha Taisho,” he told her as he worked, voice low. “I’m thirty-one and I own the dojo across town, Sword and Shield.”

Surprise flickered across Kagome’s face. She recognized that name; she passed it every day on her morning commute to work.  Or at least she used to.

Her eyes met his and Inuyasha’s lips twitched, his expression softening. “I’m a half-demon,” he said and her lack of surprise suggested she’d already guessed that. “But I’ve never killed another human before.”

Inuyasha paused, and then grimaced before amending, ”Uh, that hasn’t tried to kill me first.”

Her lips twitched slightly and she nodded. She understood that.

Relieved, Inuyasha worked on cleaning up her cuts and then treating them with antiseptic and bandages, muttering a soft apology when she winced as he doused the deeper ones. He did the same with her other arm, carefully cleaned and treated the gash at her temple – being sure to keep his claws away from her soft skin – and sat back.

“…Kagome.”

Inuyasha paused in studying his handiwork to flick his gaze to hers, giving her his undivided attention.

She blushed, gave him a trembling smile, and repeated softly, “Kagome Higurashi. Twenty-nine. Office worker.”

Inuyasha gave her an easy grin and he nodded once, eyes locked on hers, the vulnerability and lingering fright still clear as day. “Kagome,” he echoed, sliding his hand down her arm to grasp her hand and squeeze. “Thanks for trusting me.”

“Don’t make me regret it, please,” she whispered and relinquished the Glock back into his grasp.

“You’re safe here,” he rumbled and swiftly holstered the firearm. “I promise.”

Then she gave him her first genuine smile and something in his chest tightened as his breath caught in his throat.

Well. Fuck.

Clearing his throat and shaking his head, Inuyasha stood and went to the washer-turned-cooler filled with melting ice to get a cold bottle of water.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten anything? Or slept?” he asked, frowning down into the well of the washer. He’d have to get more ice soon.

When he didn’t receive an answer, he looked over to find Kagome sheepishly avoiding his gaze, blushing and biting down on her lip. That didn’t exactly look encouraging.

“Um…like, three days?” she admitted with a shrug, and then immediately gasped and winced as hot pain flared in her shoulder.

Inuyasha’s frown deepened. “What’s wrong?”

“Shoulder,” she murmured, hissing through her teeth as she attempted to raise her left arm, but couldn’t move it without stabbing pain shooting down to the very tips of her fingers. She bit her lip to stifle her cry of pain.

Instantly Inuyasha was there, sitting beside her and gently nudging her to twist around so he could take a look. What he found had him sucking in a sharp breath and his eyes to go very wide.

“What?” Kagome pressed, trying to crane her neck around to see without jarring her shoulder too much. She failed. “What is it?”

“What the fuck,” Inuyasha growled, ears pinning into his hair. “Kagome, you’ve been shot.”

Kagome blanched. “W-what?” she squeaked, the disbelief clear in her voice.

“That’s a fucking bullet hole,” he went on and started lifting her shirt to get a better look at it. “Christ, wench, who the hell did you piss off to get them to shoot at you?”

Kagome was barely aware of him tugging her shirt up and over her shoulder as she suddenly recalled with vivid clarity a loud bang followed shortly by burning agony exploding in her left shoulder as she’d sought to escape the murderer she’d foolishly trusted.

“Oh,” she breathed, feeling lightheaded and slightly nauseous. “That’s what that was.”

“What do you mean that’s what—dammit, wench! Why didn’t you fucking tell me about this?!”

Growling, Inuyasha ended up slicing her shirt to get it off without moving her shoulder; it was already torn and bloody anyway so he didn’t think she’d mind. With hard amber eyes, Inuyasha took in the neat little dime-size hole on the back of her left shoulder. Oozing fresh blood in a steady trickle, the edges were red and inflamed and Inuyasha knew the bullet was still lodged inside. There wasn’t an exit wound on the other side of her shoulder and he could already smell the beginnings of infection from the foreign material embedded in the tissue. Shit.

He needed to get it out, quickly, before the infection set in and caused damage that he did not have the required medication for. He did, however, have the tools for it; he’d been shot at more than once, which was how he recognized the wound for what it was, so at least she’d have the comfort of knowing that he had experience with this sort of thing. Unfortunately he did not have any numbing agents so this was not going to be fun for her. Since he’d only ever done it to himself, figuring he’d never have to perform the “procedure” on a human, he’d never bothered to look for some since he could handle the pain.

Kagome, though? God, this was going to be a bitch for her and he hated himself for what he was about to put her through.

Swearing under his breath, Inuyasha left Kagome’s side to get clean water, a fresh roll of gauze, a mini stitches tool kit, and even though infection had already started to set in, he still grabbed the antibiotic ointment to prevent it from getting any worse. She seemed to be in a bit of shock, sitting there staring dazedly at the air in front of her and either unaware that she was topless with her white cotton bra revealed to him, or she didn’t even care. He suspected it was the former and he muttered another curse, grabbing a handful of rags he’d made from random articles of clothing before returning to where she sat.

Inuyasha set what he needed on the chair and hesitated briefly before crouching before her, hands resting lightly on her knees. Her face was pale and tightened from pain, however her eyes were surprisingly clear as she stared down at him. She worried her bottom lip, sighed, and the fleeting look that crossed her face suggested she knew what he was going to say next.

“I wish I didn’t have to say this,” he began, the regret on his face and in his voice genuine. “But I need to get it out. And I’m sure you already know, but it’s not gonna be fun. I don’t have any numbing solution, Kagome. I ain’t gonna lie to you, it’s gonna hurt like a bitch and I’m gonna need you to stay as still as possible for me so I don’t slip and accidentally cause more damage. Alright?”

If possible Kagome paled even more and she grimaced, but gave a curt nod, setting her jaw in determination and sucking in a steadying breath. She could do this.

He had to smile at her bravery. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve done this before so I know what I’m doing. I’ll try to be quick.”

Kagome nodded again and that time offered a trembling but genuine smile. It made his heart hurt so swallowing the lump in his throat, Inuyasha stood and sank on the bed, kicking up a leg to stretch out beside her and urging her to turn so her back faced his chest and nestled comfortably between his legs. She kept her arm to her chest while doing as she was bade, shifting until both of her legs were stretching out before her and unable to hide the wince of pain when her pain flared briefly in her shoulder.

His ears flattened and clenching his jaw, Inuyasha got to work cleaning the surrounding area of dried blood and disinfecting it with some rubbing alcohol. Predictably she hissed and arched her back at the sting, instinctively trying to escape it as her hand reached down and fisted in his jeans.

“Okay?” he murmured, setting aside the antiseptic before wrapping an arm around her waist and brushing his fingers over her shoulder, readying to dig out the bullet.

Breathing deep, Kagome closed her eyes and jerked her head. “Yes,” she breathed and couldn’t stop the way her body tensed, preparing for the pain she knew was coming. “I’ll be fine. Just—get it over with. Please.”

Fuck, but he wished he didn’t have to.

“On the count of three,” he rumbled, swallowing thickly as he poised his claws above the wound. “One, two...”

Stifling the whine that welled in his throat, Inuyasha plunged his fingers into the open wound and Kagome screamed.

Burning, searing, agonizing pain exploded in her shoulder and ricocheted down her arm, sending every single nerve on fire and compressing the air in her lungs until she was gasping for breath. Tears pricked her eyes and Kagome tried very hard not to withe in agony, sobs catching in her throat as she girt her teeth and dug her fingers into his legs beside her, her body shaking, her stomach rolling, and her chest feeling impossibly tight.

Behind her Inuyasha wasn’t fairing much better, jaw clenched hard as he rooted around for the bullet and tried to pinch it between his claws, but the blood made that difficult. Switching tactics he tried to scoop it out instead, tightening his arm around her waist as she started to jerk and twist against him and he knew it was an unconscious bid to escape the pain.

“I know, baby, I know,” he soothed her as she cried, wanting nothing more than to heed her pleas for him to stop but knowing he couldn’t until the damned bullet was out. “You’re doing great, Kagome, just a little more, hold on for me, alright? You’re doing great, just a little more—”

He kept repeating the same things over and over again in her ear as he dug around for the blasted bullet, being careful not to dig his claws even more into the tissue of her shoulder but it was difficult. Kagome keened and sobbed, legs moving restlessly but the arm around her waist prevented her from jerking away from him.

Her entire arm was on fire, her shoulder felt like it was being stabbed over and over again and Kagome idly wondered if she’d ever been in as much pain before as she was right now. It was excruciating, blinding, and she almost wished she could just pass out so she wouldn’t have to endure it even a second longer—

“Got it.”

Inuyasha crooked his fingers, jerked his hand and the bullet popped out of her shoulder, glistening with blood and landing on the floor with a soft clink.

With a sob of relief Kagome went limp against him, curling her knees up as she turned her head and buried her face into his chest as she cried.

Though he wanted nothing more than to hold her, the tiny tremors that rocked her frame and the muffled whimpers against his chest tugging at his heart, Inuyasha forced himself to stay focused on the task at hand. Hurriedly he reached over and wet a rag before cleaning the wound. Though he felt like he was going to be sick, Inuyasha prepared the needle, making sure it was thoroughly disinfected and then giving a soft word of warning, he speared the flesh around it and stitched the wound closed.

Kagome jerked and issued another low moan of pain, her body stiffening but she offered no other protests, knowing it was necessary. At least he seemed to know what he was doing, his movements sure and swift. Kagome was surprised, but grateful when only seven minutes later he announced he was finished and then he was spreading the antibacterial ointment over it, staunching some of the blood flow. He wasted no time in pressing a thick gauze pad to it and keeping it secured with medical tape.

He remained quiet as he dressed the wound, and though he wanted to ask if she was okay, he had a feeling she would scoff in the face of his concern since she clearly was not.  Still, the need to distract her even a little bit from the pain was urgent and so he repeated his earlier question.

“So,” he rumbled and reached over to grab the roll of gauze. “How’d you get it?”

More or less composed by now, her sobs having died down to sniffles and quiet sighs, Kagome sucked in a shaky breath and sat up straight to make it a little easier for him. Her newly bandaged shoulder protested and she winced, but the pain was tolerable.

“I made a stupid mistake,” she answered, her voice hoarse. Inuyasha started wrapping the gauze over and around her shoulder and she lifted her arm the tiniest bit so he could pass it under. “I trusted the wrong person and he ended up being...not very nice.”

“Let me guess.” Inuyasha frowned and added another layer of gauze, passing the roll over, under, and around again, passing just beneath her breasts. “One of those psycho axe murderers from a bad Halloween film?”

She gave a watery laugh and nodded. “Basically. I ran when I realized what he was and narrowly missed having my head cut off. I didn’t know he had a gun too, and as I was running away I heard a loud bang and then sharp, burning pain in my shoulder. I think I was too scared to really understand what it meant, and the adrenaline probably temporarily numbed the pain, so that’s why I didn’t tell you about it. I didn’t even know I had it until just now.”

His frown deepened. It made sense, but he didn’t like that she’d been so frightened the pain from the bullet hadn’t even registered, hadn’t even penetrated the terror she was feeling then.

Why did that make his gut twist and make him physically ill?

“That’s why I ran from you at first, you know,” Kagome said softly, drawing him out of his thoughts. “When I saw you standing there, your sword dripping blood and looking...well, terrifying, to be honest, I thought you were another crazy and didn’t think before I ran.”

Inuyasha grimaced and shook his head, recalling what he’d done right before he discovered her in the alley. “Yeah, I can imagine how bad that must have looked. I’d just finished tussling with a few of the undead fuckers myself. Damn things had been hanging around the shop for days before I finally managed to catch ‘em off guard and slaughter the lot of ‘em. I hadn’t even gone back inside when I heard someone yankin’ at the doors, trying to get inside, and that’s when I saw another group of them pass by with that single minded focus that could only mean they found their next meal. I was about to give chase, hoping I could get to whoever it was before they did, but then I heard something, ended up finding this tiny thing looking and smelling absolutely terrified, and she ran from me before I could ask if she was alright.”

Kagome blushed and smiled sheepishly even though he couldn’t see it and ducked her head. “Then what happened?” she asked and he easily detected the teasing lilt to her voice.

Inuyasha’s lips twitched. “Then I chased after her, killed some zombies, and tried to coax this terrified creature out from a car she’d locked herself in. She nearly knocked me on my ass with the door, told me to fuck off, ran away again and I had to stop her before she went and got her fool ass killed.”

“What an idiot.”

He chuckled that time. “Then I carried her back to my poor excuse of a shelter, treated her wounds, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

Kagome hummed but said nothing more and Inuyasha took that cue to reluctantly remove himself from behind her and put away the supplies. She slowly swung her legs back over the edge of the bed, releasing a yawn and Inuyasha suspected she was minutes away from passing out but first he wanted to get something in her stomach. It was obvious she hadn’t had a decent meal in a while so he’d start her off with something small first lest she get sick.

Kagome was seriously considering laying down and crashing for the next day or so when Inuyasha suddenly appeared before her, holding a bottle of water and some crackers, and her stomach loudly told of its emptiness at the sight of food. She flushed but gratefully took them, choosing to ignore his knowing smirk as she uncapped the bottle and took her first drink of fresh water in three days.

“Slowly,” he murmured and she forced herself to do as much. “You’ll get sick if it’s too fast.”

While Kagome slowly but surely drained the water and nibbled on saltines, Inuyasha made himself a PB&J and pretended it was a big juicy steak as he chomped down, finishing it in four bites. He rifled around in a box of clothes and found one of his clean t-shirts for to wear since her last one was nothing but rags now.

Wordlessly he walked over and held it up. Predictably Kagome flushed, setting down her small meal so he could help her put it on. Though she was gritting her teeth the entire time, Inuyasha managed to get her arm through the sleeve with minimal difficulty and she breathed a sigh of relief when she was covered once more.

“Thank you,” Kagome whispered softly, sincerely, and Inuyasha’s expression softened.

Because the urge was too great, he reached out and tucked a strand of raven hair behind her ear, prompting her to lift her gaze to his.

“Don’t mention it,” he rumbled, quirking a grin, and dropped his hand. Before he could step away, however, a small hand darted out and grasped his shirt, keeping him there, and he frowned down at her in concern.

“S’matter?” he asked, kneeing down and brushing his fingers against her arm. “Do you need—”

Shaking her head, Kagome tugged on his shirt, cutting him off and she finally lifted her head, deep pools of chocolate brown locking with burnished amber.

“Not just for that,” she murmured and the smile she graced him with was shy, but stunning. “For...everything. For chasing after me, feeding me, for...saving me. Thank you, Inuyasha. You didn’t have to, but you did, and...”

Her throat closed up and she could say no more, but she didn’t need to. Her eyes told plainly of her gratitude and a peculiar warmth spread throughout Inuyasha’s chest as a knot developed in his throat, suddenly making it a little harder to breathe and goddamn, but she was pretty when she smiled like that.

Composing himself, Inuyasha cleared his throat and tossed her an easy grin, though his eyes were soft and his words genuine when he rumbled, “You’re welcome, Kagome. I’m glad I did.”

Her smile widened and her blush deepened. “Me, too.”

He stared into her eyes and had the insane urge to...well, he didn’t know what, but then Kagome abruptly yawned and the spell was broken.

Shaking his head, not without an amused chuckle, Inuyasha sighed and stood up going back over to the chest of medical supplies and digging around for some painkillers. The second she spotted them Kagome made a little noise of demand and made grabby motions toward them with a little pout. He grinned and shook out two for her.

“Get some sleep,” he rumbled and waited for her to knock back the Ibuprofen with the rest of the water before taking it the empty bottle and tossing it in the cracked recycling bin that served as the trash. “Honestly I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long. Three days is a long time to go without sleep for a human.”

Kagome shrugged and then immediately regretted it when her shoulder twinged in protest. She winced and mumbled, “Kinda hard to sleep when you’re trying not to get to eaten or killed.”

Inuyasha snorted. He could agree to that.

Sighing, she carefully lowered herself down onto her right side and it was like her exhaustion hit her all at once, suddenly struggling to keep her eyes open as her body melted into the mattress and her mind became hazy. Her shoulder was stiff and still hurt like a bitch, her arm didn’t feel much better, but she was easily able to ignore all of that because she was finally able to get some sleep on an actual bed, in a safe place without worry about being discovered, without the fear that she might never wake up.

She was covered with a light blanket and she sighed, losing the battle to keep her eyes open as she murmured,  “N’yasha.”

“Hm?”

“Stay.” It was barely above a whisper, her voice nothing but a breathy wisp of air, but Inuyasha heard it anyway and he felt that weird tugging sensation on his heart again.

“I’ll stay,” he replied roughly and gently brushed her bangs back, his touch lingering, a feather-light caress. “Sleep, Kagome. I’ll protect you.”

Kagome smiled, sighed, and slept. 

Ch. 2

[howrry]

friendship bracelets, firecrackers, and far too much sunscreen

a/n: here it is! this was supposed to be a one shot but i got WAY too carried away with it so its a full blown fic now! i kept getting too immersed while writing it so if you’ve never been to summer camp... it’s gonna feel like you did after reading this. grab a snack kids cause this is a doozy

w/c: 13.1k holy sHIT

warnings: lotta smut, alcoholism

Your alarm jerked you awake at 7 am sharp, and when you shot up onto your elbows, the humidity of the morning air made your pillowcase stick to your cheek for a moment. Yuck. That's why you insisted on showering in the morning, since the sticky, hot air would make you sweat all night anyways. You popped your neck to release the tension that sleeping at a weird angle caused.

Mornings were so peaceful; if only you liked them. The air was a little thick, but the birds didn't seem to mind as they chirped and tweeted at the beautiful sun-shiny day.

"What craft are we doing this morning?" you grumbled to Kathia, another counselor who was getting up and stretching her arms. Of course you'd share a cabin with the biggest morning person you'd ever met.

"Leather crafts. Hammering designs into bracelets and luggage tags. Some of the older girls get to do belts since their hand eye coordination will help them finish quicker," Kathia explained, going into the sun salutation poses. The first morning you two had spent together, she claimed it's how she stayed flexible even after quitting cheer. You weren't sure how some yoga related to the strength to do flips, but she still impressed campers year after year with her refined tumbling skills.

"That doesn't seem too bad. You just have to make sure the little girls don't hammer their fingers into ground beef," you reasoned, getting out of bed and finding clothes to wear that day along with your shower caddy.

"Yeah, but it'll get boring after twenty minutes," Dani, your other cabinmate, complained. Dani hated mornings as much as Kathia loved them, and typically stayed in bed until the very last minute. It was quite common for her to show up to breakfast still in her pajamas, and sneak back into your cabin to change during the camp announcements.

"Not everything in life has to be wild and exciting, Dani," Kathia tsked while bent in half at the hips, with her head between her knees. "This camp is for the girls, not us."

"Kat is right," you agreed, pushing the screen door out to leave for the shower units. "Try to be in day clothes at breakfast, Dani, please?"

She barely made a noise before plopping back down into her pillow as the door swung behind you. You played some music on your phone, and the shuffle put on some old Arctic Monkeys. You tried to keep the volume low, since the camper cabins are not far from yours and you weren't exactly allowed to have phones around campers.

You hummed Knee Socks to yourself as you turned on the water, waiting for it to get warm. You'd gotten your shower routine down to a science, proving that the past few months of learning when to turn on the water and exactly which degree to turn the knob to for the ideal temperature had been worth it. Since you were the only person up and at 'em this morning you thought nothing of taking your musty t-shirt and shorts off, leaving you in your underwear in the shower units.

It wasn't the most exposed structure, since the whole thing was made of concrete. Concrete floor, concrete walls, concrete stalls between each shower and toilet. The only thing missing was a concrete ceiling, but it actually didn't have a ceiling at all; only a wire fence stretched over the top to keep out leaves and sticks from being blown into the showers. The toilets were covered by a tin roof, but if it rained during your shower, you were doubled soaked. And probably frozen.

Still waiting for the water heater to kick in, you danced along to the guitar solo in the song. You swayed your hips, banged your head, and spun around the concrete in your shower shoes until a big hand clasped over your mouth. You freaked the fuck out until the mystery person started shushing you and turned you around, revealing himself to be your boyfriend, Harry.

"Well, aren' you adorable. Dancin' around in your knickers to good ole Alex Turner. I quite like him m'self, but clearly not as much as you do," he teased, kissing your cheek and letting his hand fall off of your mouth.

"Shut up, you scared the hell out of me! What are you doing here anyways?" you asked, noticing how little he was actually dressed. He was only in red plaid boxers, looking honestly delicious with messy hair and still-tired puffy eyes.

His shoulders lifted to his cheeks and dropped. "Woke up a little earlier than my alarm and decided to surprise you."

You laughed hoarsely. "And surprise me you did. I nearly screamed."

"Well what 'm gonna do next is really gonna surprise you, then." Before you could ask when he meant by this, he grabbed you by the back of your head and yanked you into the shower you'd been warming up.

You gasped, choking on some shower water. "Harry! I'm in my underwear!" you sputtered stupidly, unsure of what to say.

"So what? Y'were gonna change into new ones anyways. We should make out," he decided, and frankly he was right. It was just water, and you should make out. It wasn't often that counselors had alone time, so you shrugged and tossed your arms around his neck and kissed his smiling mouth.

"Y/N? Are you up already?" a voice from outside the showers asked. You and Harry separated and you gasped softly when you realized the voice belonged to Cricket, the middle aged camp director who ruled with an iron fist.

"Uh, yeah!" you blurted, unsure of what to do. Harry awkwardly backed into the corner of the shower as you popped your head out of the curtain, trying to hide the fact that you still had a bra on. Cricket was brushing her teeth in the trough sink, orange hair pulled up out of her face into a bun.

"Morning, hon, I was heading back from getting the campers' mail and figured I'd brush my teeth real quick since I had my toiletries on me," she explained, wetting her toothbrush in the water.

You nodded and dove back into the shower to find Harry confusedly waving his arms around as if to ask what to do. There was no way to leave the shower units unnoticed until Cricket left, so Harry simply had to wait to make his escape.

You grinned. "Better finish this shower before I lose the hot water," you said aloud, as if you were talking to Cricket, but really you were playing a game with Harry. You popped the hooks on your bra open and shimmied your underwear down your legs, leaving you naked in front of your boyfriend.

"I know what you mean," Cricket responded around a toothbrush in her mouth. "You have to learn to love the cold water."

You seductively combed some shampoo through your hair before lathering yourself up with body wash, running your fingers over every square inch of your tanned body. Harry was watching in awe at this explicit dance you were performing for him, with the camp director not even fifteen feet away completely unaware of what was happening.

Soon you heard the sink shut off and Cricket spit out the toothpaste down the drain. "I'll see you at breakfast, Y/N dear!" she called before walking away.

When the crunch of the leaves under Cricket's footsteps subsided, Harry let out a breath. "You're a menace! How 'm I gonna walk back to m'cabin with a hard on like this?" he gestured to the obvious tent in his boxers.

You giggled, rinsing out the last of the shampoo in your hair and squeezing out the water. "Shame. You should've worn real pants. I think I can help you, though," you offered vaguely, making Harry perk up thinking about the possibility of a good morning handy. Instead, you twisted the shower knob all the way to the coldest setting and pointed it at the corner Harry was huddling into.

The shriek he unleashed when the freezing water touched his skin was unlike any other you had ever heard. You'd been a counselor at summer Camp Jalita for two years now and had heard the screams of girls who thought they were drowning, of girls who were actually drowning, girls who saw huge bugs and lizards and once an armadillo, girls who tripped and fell, and once a girl who thought her cabin was haunted because the wind was moving the canvas flaps that hung over the screens, but this one cry released by your grown ass boyfriend pierced your ears like a knife.

"Shhhh, quit it! We just avoided getting caught by Machiavelli herself and I don't want your sissy ass to get us busted now," you reprimanded, shutting off the water entirely so that the two of you could leave. You started to get dressed as he scampered away, with one less hard-on than he had five minutes ago.

Harry was one of two male counselors at your summer camp. The other male counselor was this nice, older gentleman named Paul, who was an expert at archery and taught classes to the campers. Harry was one of the lifeguards and taught swim lessons. The other counselors (all 15 or so), counselors-in-training, members of the general camp staff, and the director were women and had a certain responsibility, and it was expressly forbidden for a counselor to date other counselors, regardless of gender.

You were never clear on why this was a rule in the first place, but you couldn't have imagined it would be a problem when you applied to be a counselor a couple years ago. Until this summer, the camp had only hired Paul and female lifeguards, so the dating policy wasn't a problem for you. Then, one of the old lifeguards got engaged and then pregnant, they needed a replacement, and they hired Harry.

You met him at a meeting long before setting foot on the campgrounds that summer, in an air-conditioned office room in the city. It was almost as opposite from actual summer camp as one could get; the humidity controlled office, the hushed tones used, the blouses and slacks worn could never prepare a newcomer for what camp was like. Harry was the relaxed vibe in a building full of squares and you couldn't help but be attracted to him.

You were a little dazed the morning of that meeting, and accidentally followed Harry into a bathroom, not realizing that A) he wasn't a girl and B) that it was a solo bathroom that lacked stalls. When it dawned on you what you'd just done, you backed out of the room stammering out an apology, but Harry had thankfully found it much more amusing than embarrassing.

"I love the enthusiasm, darling, but I think I've got it from here m'self," he joked before closing the door. You were officially too mortified to pee and scampered back to the meeting room. Afterwards, he formally introduced himself as Harry and your relationship blossomed from there.

Except, again, dating was super duper not allowed. Cricket drilled it into your heads a million times during the meetings and during on-site orientation. But you and Harry persevered and had managed to sneak around the first five or six weeks of the summer without anyone catching on. It wasn't easy, but the two of you figured out ways to be subtly romantic and also found times to get busy.

As for being romantic, it was done in the fashion that anything you did for each other could be easily explained by normal events. Harry would leave you a beautiful wildflower on your pillow for you to find at the end of the day and you told your cabinmates you'd picked it yourself; you would slip a bag of his favorite kind of chip you'd swiped from the kitchen into his swim bag, and he acted like he'd known it was there the whole time. A few love letters here and there, some sneaking out at night to gaze at the beautiful stars, one too many joints shared at the riverbanks, and you had yourself a full-swinging summer romance.

As for getting it on... well, that took a bit more work. See, the cute little gifts and notes you leave for each other can be just in passing should one of you get caught. "Oh, did I drop that paper into Harry's bag? My mistake. No harm done, he's busy teaching little kids how to tread water." But sex, simply put, required both of you to be there. Two missing counselors to be accounted for rather than one.

Fortunately, there was one golden opportunity each week. New sets of campers and counselors-in-training cycled in week by week, arriving Sunday morning and departing the following Saturday evening, giving the counselors one night each week to themselves. The counselors were permitted to do whatever they wanted, so long as it wasn't dangerous or meant leaving the camp grounds.

So that gave you and Harry your time. You still weren't completely out of the woods, since the no-dating policy was still in effect even on counselor Saturdays, so the excuses for your locations basically got whackier and whackier throughout the summer. Once, you left the cabin at 10:30 pm, telling Dani and Kathia that you were going to find some glitter for an arts and crafts event you didn't have planned until Wednesday. By the time you got back with tangled hair and your underwear in your pocket, Kat was already asleep and Dani was too busy being high to even notice your return.

Harry was so passionate during sex. He was just naturally a really handsy guy and you chalked it up to him not being able to touch you at all during the day, but he was all over you when you were intimate. He kissed and bit and grabbed and stroked and pulled, anything to get a physical touch with you. It was always mind-blowing, and his giving-to-receiving ratio was unlike anyone else you'd met or had relations with.

He'd scampered out of your shower only minutes ago and you already missed him. You mozied your way back to your cabin where Kathia was also already dressed and Dani was practically dragging herself out of her bed.

"What was that scream from earlier? Did a camper see a snake or something?" Kat asked, sitting on her knees on your bed with two hair ties and a brush.

Dani plopped down on the bed in front of her, and you sat on the floor in front of Dani. The two girls behind you started braiding the hair of the girl in front of them, a system you three had been doing for weeks now. Kathia was too neurotic to wear her hair in any fashion other than a sleek ponytail and your fingers were too shaky and unskilled to properly French braid hair, thus the perfect set up was discovered.

You paused a little. Kat tended to be a bit of a rule-follower and you'd carefully kept the fact from even your cabin mates that you were dating Harry. "Nope, I just got in the shower a little too early and the cold water unlocked an ancestral scream from me." Not bad, you thought to yourself. You were never super great at holding a bluff... but you'd gotten better over the summer.

Kathia made a little noise. "Weird, you're usually pretty good at that." She breathed for a moment while braiding back Dani's wavy hair. "Oh, well. I guess it's a good way to wake up. What do you think they're gonna be serving for breakfast?"

***

After eating breakfast tacos, cleaning up the Great Hall where the camp eats every meal, and going over camp announcements, it was over to the art pavilion. You spent the day demonstrating wetting the leather, hammering in the designs, and chatting with your counselors-in-training about you were going to do later in the day.

Your group of girls this week consisted of ladies age 13-15, which was your personal favorite age group. They were too young to be edgy and mean, too old to be crybabies about everything that wasn't perfect or what they were used to, and they were really, really funny. And frankly, the more freedom you gave the girls, the more likely they were to listen to you. The camp understood this and gave the older girls the least strict schedule of all the campers. So long as you made it to each meal and were in bed at a godly hour, you were pretty much free to do whatever you wanted for the remaining time during the week.

"I was thinking of tubing," one of the CITs suggested. "When I put up the poles after fishing, I saw the storage unit was full of these industrial sized tubes. Wouldn't it be fun to float the river on our last day here?" she gushed.

"That's not a bad idea. I'd need to make sure no one is fishing today," you thought aloud, scratching your head and trying to avoid the braids becoming loose. It was finally Saturday and the campers were kind of bummed that they had to leave that evening anyways, so maybe this was just the thing to lift their spirits. "Oh, and I'd need a lifeguard." Your finger shot out towards the CIT who'd suggested it. "After crafts, you're excused to go find me a lifeguard to accompany us. We'll probably tube backwards since the river doesn't move super fast and we get less exercise if we just sit in a tube and float." The girls nodded together in agreement, excited that they now had an excuse to wear their cute bikinis they'd packed.

See, that's how you remained off the radar with Harry. If the CIT just happened to pick him for the tubing, that's nobody's fault except chance. If he'd been your first pick, some alarm bells were bound to go off in the heads of other counselors and CITs.

"Could we ask Kathia's group to join us?" another CIT asked. "They're the same age as us and I don't think they have any plans either."

"Great idea! Hand me the walkie so I can ring her up," you ordered, pointing to the walkie talkie on the table next to the first CIT. "Tubing party later today!" you announced to your campers, who also cheered at the fun final adventure.

When everyone was waiting down at the riverbanks later that day holding their big tubes, Harry strolled down wearing a tan fishing hat, bright orange swim trunks, and a ridiculous amount of white sunscreen slathered on his nose. Black sunglasses sat on the brim of his hat and a red whistle hung around his neck, resting daintily between his chest muscles. If the campers weren't so intimidated by his size and attractiveness, they probably would've laughed at him.

The group felt no need to waste time and immediately started their way up the river. Some girls sat in their tubes and paddled their way upstream, while some girls planned to drag another and switch off who got to sat in the tube. Kathia ran a timer on her watch to tell girls when to trade places. Harry carried one girl in his tube at a time and some campers were practically tripping over the river rocks to get to be the one H pulled. He played this game with some of the girls where he would yank the rope attached to the tube until it slipped out from under the camper and she dropped into the river. They would come up laughing and squealing until Kat reprimanded him.

"Aren't you supposed to be the lifeguard?" she prodded jokingly. "Some girl is gonna get a concussion from that."

Harry sighed. "All you do is nag, Kathia dear. That's why Y/N is my favorite counselor." He nodded his head over to the side where you were pulling a girl using a camp brochure as a fan. You stuck your tongue out.

Kat feigned being insulted. "Hey! You can't have a favorite counselor!"

"Relax," he waved a hand to deflect Kathia's words. "Watch this." Harry turned to the group of girls in tubes. "Raise your hand if Kathia is your favorite counselor." A majority of the hands shot up. "Raise your hand if Y/N is your favorite counselor." Another majority of hands lifted, and Harry winked to both of you. "Now... raise your hand if I'm your favorite counselor." Every single one of the hands raised, including yours, Kat's, and Harry's. He always was quite the narcissist. "See ladies? Favorite counselor isn't a person; it's a tier."

Your group finally reached the end of the tubing trip, since the point of the river furthest north was at the Great Hall and it was already in sight. Everyone started dragging their tubes out of the water to carry back to the storage unit. You put your tube in the unit last, and when you turned to go back to your group, Harry slapped your ass on the way out. He'd been holding the door and probably waited for the opportunity to do that. You tried to glare at him but he had such an excited grin you couldn't even pretend to stay mad at him.

By this point, the group was grouchy from either having to wash off the river water with a garden hose, excess sun exposure, or both, so Harry decided to cheer everyone up. "Hey, when everyone's changed and back from their cabins, how about we all have some ice cream?" he suggested when the group was huddled in their towels outside Great Hall, and their general mood instantly lifted. He leaned to you and whispered, "I bought a ton of weed from one of the cooks, so I get special food privileges. Gotta learn to network." He clicked his tongue and shot a finger gun at you, making you roll your eyes and laugh.

***

Saying goodbye to your campers each week was hard and didn't get easier no matter how long the summer went on. You got seven days of living with strangers and by the time they leave, they're like ten new sisters that you'll never see again. The campers would start to look up to you and they'd be just as bummed as you. If it weren't for their faces brightening when they saw their parents or older siblings arriving to pick them up, you'd think it wasn't worth it.

When the last girl was picked up, the sun was already setting. The lifeguards began slathering aloe vera on each other's shoulders, the cooks were lugging boxes of food for the week into the kitchen, and the remaining counselors were drawing broken toothpicks to see who got to use the washing machines first. You, however, were plotting your escape to Harry's cabin for that night.

When Dani and Kat weren't around to see, you kicked out a path leading up to your cabin so your feet wouldn't crunch the leaves. You sprayed a coat of sunscreen onto the spring that pulled the door shut so that it wouldn't creak. Some trial and error led you to learn that the humid air only allowed this to work for about 12 hours until the sunscreen melted off, so you did this as late as possible.

Harry also took some precautions. The frames that the mattresses sat on were super old and made a ton of noise when you two were, you know, on it, so he dragged it (with the sheets and blankets and pillows still on it) down to the ground. Concrete floors can't squeak when you're getting fucked into it. Fortunately, since he was a guy and the other lifeguards were girls, he got his own cabin to stay in, so cabin mates were one less factor to worry about on his end.

When you arrived at his cabin that night, you used your special knock that you two agreed on to eliminate Harry opening the door in his underwear when it was really Cricket or Paul or even worse, a lost camper. H opened the door wearing shorts that rode low on his hips and an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt draped over his shoulders.

"Hey, princess," he murmured, pulling you into his cabin and kissing you.

"Morning, babe," you joked. "Has it been lonely waiting for me all by yourself?"

He took two steps backwards and sat back, landing with a thump on the mattress. His arms shot back and he balanced himself by leaning on his palms. "Terribly so. Almost thought you weren't comin'."

You followed him down onto the mattress. "As if I would skip out on this." Harry scooted back and you climbed over him, straddling his hips. You already could feel his semi pressing against your core-- only a few thin layers separated you two.

Even the slight pressure of him brushing up against your center had soft gasps slipping from your lips, and Harry's first two fingers slipped between them. "Haven't even done anything yet and 've already got you whimperin'. Don't think I'll ever get over how responsive yeh are."

You giggled, or at least as much as you could with two fingers in your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut as your lips closed around him and you sucked gently, making him twitch beneath you.

"Oh, you're playing dirty tonigh'," he noted, pulling his hand from your lips and flipping you over so that you were below him. He pulled your shirt off and licked at your now-exposed nipples. A wandering hand of his discovered that you were soaking wet. "M'so glad you make it easy for me, pet." He flipped you onto your stomach and yanked your shorts down, giving him easy access to slip his cock into you.

Having sex only once a week made it difficult to stay accustomed to his size. He wasn't like, a monster or anything, but he was bigger than average and having cabin mates eliminated the option of touching yourself. So every week, when you and Harry got together, he had to re-fuck you open to handle his width.

Before the burn from the stretching had quite subsided, Harry let his carnal side out and started pounding into your mercilessly, assaulting your delicate and sensitive walls. His fingernails dug into the soft skin above your hips and his balls slapped your clit, stimulating you from the inside out.

"Someday, I'm gonna fuck yeh in private, and I won' have to cover y'mouth. I wanna hear every moan, whimper, and gasp I can get out of yeh," he punctuated his statement by bottoming out all the way, the head of his cock pressing against that spongy spot inside you, and your jaw dropped open. Harry, thankfully, was quick and had a hand smacked against your mouth before any noise slipped out. "Bet it sounds like heaven when you get fucked hard."

You were getting close to coming really fast. At this point, Harry had one arm snaked around the front of your body pulling you as close to his chest as he could, and the other hand was clasped around your mouth, forcing you to pant through your nose as he fucked you harder and faster. You clenched your walls around his pulsing cock and he moaned into your ear, and you finally hit your peak. Harry followed soon after, pulling out and painting your back with thick white ropes.

After you both came down from your highs, Harry got to work cleaning you off and helping you get redressed. As much as the two of you would love to spend the whole night talking and cuddling and, y'know, having more sex, it was imperative that you go back to your cabin before anyone could notice you were missing.

"Love the glow you've got," Harry mused, leaning against the cabin wall and looking down at you laying on the mattress. "You're the most beautiful woman I reckon 've ever seen."

You sat up, tucking your knees to your chest and covering your face with your fingers. "Making me blush. I love you, Harry, but I've gotta get back to my cabin." You checked your watch. "T minus eight hours until we get new campers, and I haven't slept a wink yet."

Harry smirked. "I'd apologize but I know yeh enjoyed it." You stood up to leave, leaving a fat smacking kiss on your boyfriend's cheek. "I love y'too, babe, get back t'bed safely."

And off into the night you went.

***

The departure of your campers was obviously immediately followed by a new set of bright young faces ready to have the most fun week of their summer. When new girls checked in, they were separated by which counselor would be responsible for them during the week, all of which waited on the courtyard right outside Great Hall. As each camper joined your group, they sat in a circle with you talking about themselves.

"Y/N? Do you mind speaking with me for a moment?" a voice behind you called. It was Sydney, a girl your age who was essentially Cricket's right hand man.

Sydney had blonde hair with a thick dark chunk of roots on her whole head. Her jaw was unnaturally square and nose turned up, looking like one of the wicked stepsisters. She stood with her arms crossed above her camp shirt, pinning her lanyard to her body.

You wobbled to stand up and bounced over to her. "What's up?"

Her eyes dropped to your shoes, a pair of light blue Chacos strapped over your feet. "You're not supposed to be wearing those. The camp rulebook says close-toed shoes only on campgrounds."

Your hands found your hips and you narrowed your eyes. "Really? You mean, the rulebook that pretty clearly states that only campers have to wear close-toed shoes." God, this was such a stupid thing to be arguing over. Didn't Sydney have better things to be worrying about?

"You should at least try to set a good example for your girls," Sydney seethed.

"Just like you're doing with that beer breath before it's even noon?" you bit, not in the mood for such a petty argument. If she wanted smoke, she'd get smoke. Her face contorted a little, but you shut her up before she could retaliate. "Yeah, I thought so. Let me deal with my girls as I see fit, and I'll leave you to yours. Oh wait! You were deemed not responsible enough so now you're a jealous lapdog. Mind your own, Syd."

You trudged away from her and rejoined your group where they were all chatting about new movies they were gonna see when camp ended. "Hey girls!" you started, sitting back down. "So, who would play you in a movie about your life?"

***

The week rolled along without making much of an impression until smack halfway in the middle of it, when the day was so violent it demanded it left an impact on you.

That Wednesday, the sun was over-the-top vicious. The members and attendees of your camp were no strangers to hot and humid weather, but when the first sunburn was reported at the modest hour of 10 am, nobody complained when Cricket ordered for minimal sun exposure and forbade swimming until the temperature cooled back down.

The lifeguards were bored silly since their number one purpose became obsolete. Two of the lifeguards opted out of taking up any new responsibility, and spent the day washing their laundry in the counselor's quarters, playing Super Smash Bros in the office building, and enjoying indoor weather wherever they could find it.

Harry was much too in love with the campers to shut himself in, however. He floated around the camp from group to group, joining in with the kids making crafts, cleaning up the campgrounds, and playing games. In fact, you didn't even see your wanderer boyfriend for most of the day anyways.

After lunch, everyone has a mandatory thirty minute "resting" time after eating. They claimed that it was to prevent campers getting stomach cramps while swimming or running around, but even as years went on and that myth was debunked, nobody really suggested the rule get thrown out since it was a half hour of just chilling and not having to work. (Plus today, one of the most sweltering of days, nobody was exactly itching to go run laps immediately after consuming tons of lasagna and garlic bread).

You were laying in bed during your rest hour, and most of your girls were in their cabins doing fuck-all. You chose to read, and picked one of your favorite books, The Duff.

Dani's girls were always really young, so she spent her rest hour getting her girls in bed for a nap. They were allowed a longer resting time since this was the time of day was the hottest (even on regular days when records weren't being broken), and them napping was better than them being out in the sun. Today, Kathia's group had the chore of cleaning up Great Hall after lunch, so you were in your cabin alone when someone knocked at the door.

"Come in," you called, and placed your book down holding your finger in the spot you left off at.

The door swung open to reveal one of your campers, a 13-year-old girl named Paige. "Hey, Y/N. I had a question." She stepped in and sat on one of the empty beds, pulling her Chaco-adorned feet up with her.

"Shoot."

"How mad would you be if we were out a little later than lights out tonight? We're older, so we're more responsible than the young girls, and we'll all be together so it's like ultra buddy system."

One of your eyebrows shot up. "Is that really what you're asking me?"

Suddenly the cabin door swung open, and Kathia entered. She yanked her ponytail out of its tie and immediately brushed it out with a comb, waving to Paige.

The camper sighed and dropped a dark piece of hair she'd been playing with. "Okay. I'll level with you. One of the girls in my cabin brought an iPad and never turned it in, and we wanna see if we can find the office's WiFi password to watch a music video that just came out."

You couldn't help but let out a laugh. "I have so much faith in the youth of today. When I was a camper here, I missed out on watching the music video for 5SOS's Amnesia."

Kathia chimed in. "I missed a Hoodie Allen concert with my friends. Not that I could've done anything about that."

"You liked Hoodie Allen?" you balked, making the blonde girl laugh and nod. "Anyways," you continued, turning back to Paige. "I'm proud of you guys solving problems together. What music video are you gonna watch, anyways?"

She looked down, almost embarrassedly. "Have you heard of Billie Eilish? It's one of hers."

"God, how old do you think I am?" you rolled your eyes. "But listen to me extremely carefully." Paige leaned in, gripping her ankle. "If you get caught, I'm 100% throwing you under the bus. Cricket will unleash hell upon you and your cabin, and I won't lose a blink of sleep over it. Am I clear? Do. Not. Get. Caught."

The camper nodded vigorously, jumped off the bed, saluted, and took off out of the cabin. Huh. You liked her style.

"I can't believe you let that slide," Kathia spoke up, plopping down onto her bed to enjoy what was left of her rest hour.

"Are you criticizing my parenting skills?" you asked, picking your book back up as Kat chuckled to herself and shook her head.

One problem with the camp was its lack of cell service. Even if you and Harry managed to check your phones without getting in trouble with camp staff, there isn't enough service for miles to communicate. So even now that you had an opportunity to see Harry tonight without disturbing your campers, the info would have to be relayed to him in person.

When your rest time finished up, you popped over to your girls' cabin and poked your head in.

"Hey ladies! I don't feel like planning out more stuff to do inside for the rest of the day. Does anyone object to just chilling in our cabins for an hour or so?" When this was met with silence, you continued, "Great! Will anyone back me up when I say one of my campers didn't feel well so we didn't plan any afternoon activities together?" Two girls raised their hands. "Our cup runneth over! Rock, paper, scissors for who gets to be my scapegoat and I'll catch y'all later!"

You practically skipped to Harry's cabin, but when you got close you slowed your roll to be conspicuous. You opened the door to find that he wasn't in there, so you made yourself at home on his bed, kicking your feet up on the bedpost and sniffing his pillow.

Your timing was golden, since H came back shortly after you got comfortable. "Well, I see you have no intention of moving," he noted, wiping sweat off his face with a white rag.

You sat up. "I'm not staying forever. Just wanted to let you know we should meet up tonight. Maybe... the abandoned cabins?"

Harry's head reared back a bit. The abandoned cabins were a grouping near the riverbanks that got destroyed in a flood. Fortunately, the flood happened when there were no camps in session, so no one was hurt. Some were rickety and damaged, some only had walls left, and some were nothing more than concrete slabs jutting out of the dirt. The bathroom structure was still standing but gutted, missing a roof and donning big padlocks on the toilet stall doors.

"Tha's a new spot. What made you think of it?" he questioned, grabbing a water bottle and taking a few drinks from it.

"Overheard a group at lunch talk about hiking near there and how eerie it was. I think sneaking around there would be exciting and... I don't know. Kind of sexy," you admitted, rolling your head to the side almost to hide your face.

"Now yeh're speaking my language," he chuckled, pointing a ringed finger at you. "I'll meet you tonight, then?"

"Yessir," you affirmed, jumping up to wrap your arms around his neck. "Did you have a fun day doing nothing?"

"Nothing?!" he cried, almost choking on his water. "I spent the whole day givin' girls piggy back rides. Being charming and fun and popular isn' always easy, Y/N." He kissed your forehead to show he was kidding, but you still rolled your eyes.

"You joke, but that kinda talk is in your nature, Styles," you poked, heading towards the door.

"'f tha's true, then you really can't be mad at me for it, huh?" A little dimple popped out at the corner of his smile and he held his arms out in a lazy shrug.

"Watch me," you winked, and shut the door behind you.

God, the rest of the day crawled on painfully. The indoor rule which stretched until just before dinner, and after dinner the whole rest of the day is automatically planned out through Taps, camp announcements, evening games, and lights-out. Your options when it came to activities were pretty limited, so you spent the remaining hours before the last meal letting the girls check out the library that was adjacent to the Great Hall. Of course, the books hadn't been updated since 1996 and the 14 inch TV didn't have any cables to plug into the walls, so that day honestly kinda sucked.

Your girls had good spirit, though, and honestly seemed kind of excited for their own risky night they planned ahead. You wondered which out of the set you got that week were going to sneak out and which ones were gonna stay back and hold down the fort. Paige seemed like exactly the type to stage this kind of rebellion. Whatever.

So that evening, you waited on your bed, wringing your hands in anticipation. Dani was exhausted from her long day wrangling kiddies, and Kathia was always in bed early anyways. Before you knew it, you were the only awake person left in your cabin and had to patiently wait to leave so that you wouldn't be waiting on Harry.

Even with your worrying, you still overshot your departure and were left to kill time before he got there. Which cabin would you two go in? Only two had a roof left, and one of them literally shifted in place when you pulled on the door handle. The alternative was totally missing screens over the windows, and they appeared to have been cut out with a knife. Weird.

You heard the crunch of the leaves Harry was stepping on before he had any opportunity to scare you, so you quietly called him over to your cabin of choice.

"Well, hello there, beautiful," H flirted when he got to you, pulling you into his arms and spinning the two of you around. "You come 'ere often?"

You squealed a little before he steadied you again. "No, actually, this is my first time. Care to show me around?"

"Nope," he responded. "Was a hike getting here. Let's sit." He plopped down to the concrete floor and pulled you onto his lap, lazily tossing an arm around your waist and pressing kisses to the spot where your neck met your shoulders.

That was a sensitive spot for you, and you let your head roll to expose more skin for Harry to kiss and your jaw hung open. His free hand snaked down into your shorts, petting around to get inside your underwear and feel your folds.

"Fuck," he groaned, "You're always ready for me. Are you always this ready to get fucked?" His fingers just barely dipped inside you, not even past the second knuckle.

You nodded, one hand flying back to grab his hair and pull on it. H always loved when you got a little rough with him despite your meek nature, and he moaned breathily as you tugged at his curls. He also shoved his fingers all the way inside you and hooked them to brush against your G spot. His calloused palm grinded against your clit and he bit at your jawline, ear, and neck.

The pumping motion of his fingers created this delicious wet noise, and that combined with the moans and gasps of you coming on his fingers did a great job of covering the footsteps of someone approaching the abandoned cabin.

Harry slipped his hand out of your shorts and brought his fingers up to your lips to suck them clean. You were just getting ready to hop off his lap and give him a quick blowie when you heard the unmistakeable crack of someone stepping on and breaking a branch.

You and Harry's heads snapped towards the outdoors and then back to each other, wordlessly deciding that it was time to get out of there and it was every man for himself.

Jumping up from the floor, you two simultaneously realize that the door was not an option and the only way out was through where the windows used to be. You scrambled over gracelessly (while Harry leaped, rolled on the ground, and took off like a bullet) due to your jelly legs and landed on your back in the leaves. Adrenaline made you shoot back standing, and you darted towards the faint sound of the running river.

In the dark, you struggled to find the path that ran alongside the river for the whole stretch of camp since you didn't have a phone or a flashlight to help you see. Eventually, the caliche-lined footway was under you and you slowly walked back to your cabin.

You were terrified, of course, but you didn't have any other choice. You'd never had a call that close before; how could this happen? Could someone else have known about your plan? If it were Cricket, she would've stopped the two of you, right?

Your legs were still pumping with adrenaline and carried you back to main camp in no time. You crept back into your cabin to find both of your roommates sleeping soundly.

Well. Guess there's nothing left to do but sleep and see what the next day would bring. You sure hoped Harry made it back safely as well.

The next morning, nobody acted weird. Kat did her stretches, Dani complained about having to teach elementary aged girls to tie-dye shirts later that day, the cooks barely paid attention to the girls they were giving food to, Harry merely shrugged to you when your eyes widened at him during breakfast, and the staff was just as boring and predictable as always. Nobody acted as if you or H were busted.

You decided to let yourself relax. Maybe it was one of the campers who went hiking near there the day before. Maybe they were looking for something and got lost. No harm, no foul. To ease your stressed mind, you told your group they were going to weave friendship bracelets that day. You hoped the repetitive and soothing motion would loosen the knot in your stomach.

Things were actually going quite great, until your walkie-talkie hissed alive. "Cricket to Y/N. Please come to my office A-S-A-P." Fuuuck.

You simply nodded to your CIT, who understood you had to go. The walk to the office was like heading to a slaughterhouse and you could barely even feel your legs. You imagined how badly this meeting could possibly go (which really wasn't a great idea. You were practically sweating buckets) and pushed the door to go inside.

The office building was a modest shack, with loud air conditioning and painted concrete floors and doors with that arm that shuts them behind you to keep the cool air from escaping. One half of the building was individual offices, while the other half was an open area with chairs, tables, and spare storage for decorations. Sydney sat at one of these tables and her nose wrinkled when she saw you.

Syd gestured to the hallway leading to the offices and you quietly opened the door to Cricket's office. The older redheaded woman glanced up from her computer and nodded at a chair, not saying anything for several moments after you sat down.

She finally took off her glasses and folded her hands on the desk. "Y/N, I needed to talk to you about something quite important that's come to my attention," Cricket began. Here it goes. Your stomach was already twisted up in fear.

Be cool, you thought to yourself. "Uh, what's going on?" you asked, just barely avoiding your voice cracking. You were sure your hands were still trembling, so you sat on them.

"We, at Jalita, greatly value our rules and regulations we've set in place for our counselors, as they directly reflect on the safety of our campers. A direct violation of these rules shows you just don't care about that safety." Man, Cricket was really laying into you. "This is, however, your first time breaking the rules..."

You couldn't keep it in anymore. "And I promise it'll be the last!" You weren't sure if saying that would do you any good at this point, but it had to be worth something to get that across.

"... I should hope so. I mean, letting your campers run around the grounds after lights out and take twenty-so cartons of orange juice?! Were they raised by wolves?" Wait. What? This is about the stupid orange juice cartons? You and Harry hadn't been caught? "You're quite lucky we accidentally over-ordered juice this month, and now our numbers even out, or you'd have some thirsty campers by the end of the summer."

So... Cricket was mad because your campers had stolen a bunch of OJ for their Billie Eilish watch party. You couldn't help but feel like Paige was behind this tomfoolery and were again intrigued by her style. You sucked a big breath in through your nose before speaking again. "I'm so sorry, Cricket. You're right. I-I should've kept a better eye on my campers and I won't let this happen again." Your hands folded in your lap, suddenly not shaking anymore.

"I'm very glad to hear that. And since, like I said, this is your first time getting in trouble, all's well that ends well. You're free to go, Miss Y/N. Don't let me see you in here again, but I will see you at the fireworks show tonight." Oh fuck, right, it was the Fourth of July and time for the annual fireworks show. Cricket slid her glasses back on her nose, pushed the sleeves of her cardigan up her forearms, and turned back to her laptop.

Thankful for your easy out and the opportunity to leave, you nodded curtly and bolted out the door and down the hallway, back in the office's main room. Sydney sat at a big table sorting sparklers into cups that would go on the tables during dinner before the fireworks show, and merely turned her nose up at you. The blast of the A/C unit felt like it was getting louder so you ran out the doors to the familiar heat and humidity.

The pressure was starting to crush you. Sneaking around, making out in closets, flirty notes, brief touches that left you wanting more, wanting more in general and not being able to have it, it was maddening! You wanted Harry, and you wanted all of him, and the summer wasn't over yet.

You knew that you probably should've gone back to your campers, but your CIT could handle them and you needed to see H. Where could he be? It was just before three o'clock, his last class of the day was the advanced class at 1:30, and it lasted an hour. Knowing Harry, he'd probably left immediately after to go take a shower and would be out by now, probably getting dressed in his room, so you went there first.

You threw open the door to his cabin without thinking to knock or otherwise announce yourself. Harry was in the middle of the room facing away from the door, one towel wrapped around his body riding dangerously low on his hips and another on his head to dry his hair. He spun around, shocked at the sudden intruder but quickly relaxed when he realized it was just you. "Hey, pet. I heard the radio, what did Cricket w--" he was cut off by you marching up and pulling him down to you for a kiss.

The chlorine smell lingered on his skin even after the shower, creeping up and burning your nose a little bit. The towel on his head fell to the floor as he grabbed your waist with damp hands. You popped off his mouth as quickly as you'd started, creating a juicy noise when you separated.

"We didn't get caught. Yet. She was chewing me out for something else I'd done." You plopped down onto his bed as he dropped the towel on his waist to put on boxers and shorts.

"Tha's good," he mumbled to himself as he pulled up his black shorts and tossed a hole-y t-shirt on. His hair was still dripping wet, but he just pushed it back out of his face before joining you on the bed.

"Yeah," you said emotionlessly and began picking at the threads of your white braided anklet.

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "Wha's wrong? Figured yeh'd be leaping for joy at th'news." He grabbed the hand doing the picking and lifted it, softly kissing the knuckles.

"The pressure is killing me," you blurted all at once. "I'm so scared of getting in trouble, and I don't want to get kicked out of camp for this, but I really like you and I want to keep seeing you but holy shit I'm not used to this whole forbidden romance thing."

There was a moment of silence between the two of you before Harry let out an adorable giggle. "Oh, my God, tha' had to have been the cutest thing 've ever seen. You're such a doll." He leaned back on the palms of his hands amusedly, dimples popping out of his tanned cheeks.

"Not even you will take me seriously!" you cried, jumping up and heading to the door. Harry quickly followed you and grabbed your arm before you could leave his cabin.

"Whoa, there, kitten. Yeh can't leave right now, Paul's going back to his room after his 2:30 class. Can't have 'im seeing you leave m'cabin. " Sure enough, through a sliver of the window not covered by the canvas flaps, you saw Paul trudging back to his room with a bow strapped to his back. "N'I'm sorry I laughed. What would make you feel better about this? A second opinion? Just telling someone here what's going on? Have yeh even told anyone else about us?"

"No!" Your eyes narrowed to slits. "Why? Have you?"

He snorted. "Yeah, the only male counselor under 25 is dating another counselor, it'd be a great idea to tell a girl counselor, 'cause she certainly won't tell anyone el--"

"Okay, okay, damn, you've made your point," you interrupted, holding a hand to his chest. "What should I do then?"

He shrugged. "Do yeh think telling a trusted friend counselor about us would make yeh feel better?" His big hands rubbed up and down the sides of your arms, oddly enough calming you down. You nodded gently, looking up at him. He responded by kissing you again. "'m sorry we can't be more open, baby, yeh know I want t'be."

You rolled your shoulders back, making his hands drop back down to his sides. "I know, love. We gotta do what we can. I'll see you at the fireworks show." He could barely even wave to you before you fluttered out of his room back into campgrounds.

Who to talk to? You honestly couldn't even think of someone really worthy to tell this big secret to. Your mind went at a million miles an hour, but fortunately your legs did the thinking for you and took you in the direction of the art pavilion.

It had a giant sign over the main entrance with the words Dabbler's Den in yellow paint. As a camper, you once asked why it was named that, and allegedly it was to reference how many art forms you would dabble in while there. Today, apparently, was tie-dye t-shirts, since you found Kathia and a CIT demonstrating to her campers how to squeeze the bottles of runny dye onto their twisted-up and rubber banded t-shirts. While you were lucky enough to snag another older set of girls this week, this time Kat was stuck with 10-year-olds.

"Remember ladies," Kathia cheerfully announced to the group, not noticing your arrival. "When it comes to tie-dye, more is more when it comes to pigmentation, but be realistic about our dye budget!" The campers giggled at her joke and immediately started lunging for ketchup and mustard bottles filled with various colors.

"Kat? Can I talk to you in private for a sec?" you tapped the bubbly girl on the shoulder, making her whip around to face you.

"Sure," she agreed, taking the paint-smeared apron off and hanging it on a brass hook on the wall. "Sierra, make sure no one tries to drink the dye while I'm gone!"

Her CIT flashed a thumbs up, but one of the campers yelled, "We're not four years old, Miss Kathia!"

The Dabbler's Den was divided in half by a craft room in the middle, with a hallway leading to the back of the pavilion. There were steps to this section, and it was only used when the Den was double booked. It looked off into the river and was considerably more quiet than the other half.

"What's going on? What did Crick say?" Kat asked, already hopping onto the battered craft table with wide eyes.

"She got on my ass about letting my campers steal orange juice from the Great Hall. But... there's something else I have to tell you." Your lower belly suddenly filled with nervous energy, and your hands fiddled with each other.

Kathia's head lulled to one side. "What's up?"

"Harry and I are dating. We have been for months now, and I know it's not allowed, but I'm so scared of getting caught and keeping it to myself is absolutely killing me. I've never kept a secret of this magnitude before. I'm so scared Cricket is gonna find out, is my hair going gray? I think I'm barely twenty and already getting gray hairs." You punctuated your wild ramble with your fingers threading through your hair and tilting your whole head forward so Kat could see the strands and check for actual graying hairs.

"Y/N, calm down!" Kathia reassured, grabbing your shoulders and standing you back up. "I already knew."

"And I've been sneaking around for weeks trying to keep it on the down low but it's stressful! I've-- wait." You stopped for a good few seconds, reading Kat's face. It was like she was holding back a laugh. "You already knew," you deadpanned, unsure if it was a question or not.

"Yes, I did!" she affirmed, finally letting out that laugh. "I've been onto you for like two and a half weeks now. Do you think you're secretive? You always get the right shower temperature, Y/N." Kat shrugged and dropped her eyes to the ground for a moment. "When you just let Paige go off at night, I kinda got the idea that it was so you could have some fun of your own but I wasn't sure who with. I severely doubted it being Paul so unless you were gay this whole time, it had to be Harry. Before you snuck out, I pretended to be asleep and followed you to see if I was right and I may have seen something I shouldn't have."

Your eyes widened. "You were the one who caught us?!" Your hands flew up to cover your mouth before you could even stop them.

"Yes! I was as embarrassed as you were afraid, so I bolted to get back to the cabin before you did, but I think I woke up Cricket. I couldn't see super well so I knocked over a box that was by her window. Tell your campers I'm sorry about getting them busted."

You sighed in relief, placing a hand over your heart. "Wow. That's a huge weight off my chest. You're not gonna tell anyone, right? About Harry and me?"

Kathia shook her head. "I don't necessarily approve of it, but I like you. I won't rat you out to Cricket or anyone else here. That doesn't mean someone else won't find out though," she warned, wagging a finger at you. "So be careful. Speaking of your campers, what did you do about them sneaking out and getting caught by Crick?"

You picked at a cuticle. "I kinda... took the fall for it. Promised not to let it happen again."

Kathia shook her head, walking towards the stairs back up to the other side of Dabbler's. "You said you weren't gonna do that. Stand by your own word. Take control of your life, Y/N!" she called after you, grabbing her apron and tossing it back on. You wouldn't have admitted it then, but she was right. You remained speechless for a few moments before turning and going back to your bracelet-weaving campers.

As the evening approached, the weather cooled down, and the sky went a bright pink before darkening altogether, camp went into a frenzy to prepare for the show. Counselors wrangled up their girls and ensured they had towels to sit on and Cricket was occupying all walkie talkie traffic getting staff to move their cars off the field where the fireworks would be launched.

You were minding your own business once you got your more competent girls settled in, and just so happened to be caught in Crick's line of sight when you were looking for Harry just before the show was due to start.

"Y/N!" Cricket snapped, pointing at you.

"Ma'am?" you replied, halting in your tracks and turning to her.

"The show is supposed to begin soon and I haven't seen Sydney anywhere. She's the one who's in charge of the fireworks. Can you go find her? If you need me I'll be in my usual fireworks spot," she tapped the folding chair slung over her shoulder for good measure and went on her way.

Part of you wanted to let Sydney fail, to pretend to have looked for her and just let her be late and take the blame for herself, but you couldn't. Syd had never done anything specifically bad to you other than get on your ass about rules, so you went looking for her.

The first place you thought to try was her cabin, which was empty. Then you went to the office building where Cricket had reprimanded you just hours before. Thanks to the evening weather, when you opened the door, the air inside was actually cool enough to give you shivers and goosebumps.

There was a clattering from one of the storage closets (one you and H hadn't consummated in yet, for the record) and you terrifiedly approached the door. It could be a raccoon, or a small deer, or a huge conglomeration of evolved rats, or a sexual predator. Or... maybe not.

You turned the knob before jumping back, and Sydney bursted out from the closet, dropping to the ground and catching herself on her hands. The infectious reek that followed her out of the room and the clinking of obvious bottles behind her revealed that she was off-her-ass drunk. Sydney looked up through fluttered lashes, clearly amused at herself.

"Oops! How did I end up in the closet, I'm not even gay!" she slurred, giggling and hiccuping around her words.

"Sydney... what the fuck?" you blurted, unsure of what to do in this situation. Sure, you and Harry smoked a little on weekends. And maybe you weren't even supposed to be together in the first place... but you didn't get blackout drunk when you're supposed to be around campers! "You're supposed to be on firework duty in five minutes!" Yeah, as if that's still a viable option at this point. Real Mensa member over here.

"S'no big deal," Sydney countered, wobbling back up onto her feet, only to casually lean on a table. "Just point the lighter, put your right hand in, keep your shoulders straight, HEY MACARENA!" she yelled, echoing in the office building.

"Sydney! Pipe down! I've got to get you to bed, now," you decided while reaching for her, but she jerked away, suddenly angry.

"Don't *hic* touch me!" she coughed. "I don't have to *hic* do what you *hic* say! What are you gonna do? Tell on me? I'm sure once you do that, Cricket will love to know you've been fucking the lifeguard the whole time." She stamped her feet and crossed her arms like a child... like a child with a detrimental secret.

Your breath almost caught. "I don't know what you're talking about." You continued to try to sorta carry Sydney back to her cabin, and she was too drunk and angry to stop you this time.

You managed to guide the intoxicated girl back to her cabin and get her set up in her own bed. You placed a trashcan next to where her head was, poured a glass of water for her to drink when she woke up, and settled her body into the "recovery" position you'd learned in high school. Push them on their side, pull the top knee over to support the position, extend the bottom arm to keep from rolling over, and place the top arm under the chin to prevent choking on vomit. Before you knew it, Sydney was snoozing peacefully. You double checked that she was still breathing through at least one of her orifices (she was, all of them actually) and flipped off the light to her cabin.

What were you going to do about Sydney? She clearly knew about you and Harry and probably had been waiting for a good enough reason to let you know she was onto you. Was she just talking out of her ass, or would she really be willing to take you down with her unless you kept quiet about her drinking problem? You'd never been blackmailed before and frankly you thought that those gray hairs were starting to come in full swing.

No time to worry about that. You, obviously, were going to be late to the fireworks show, but then again, the girl who was in charge of it wasn't even going to be attending. All you had to do was find someone willing to cover for Sydney who wouldn't ask a bunch of questions about her whereabouts.

Paul was the obvious first choice-- you searched around for him and found him smoking a cigarette behind the nurse's office. He saw no problem in working the fireworks stand and didn't really care much about why Syd wasn't available anymore, so all you had to do now was find H and enjoy the light show.

When you finally found him, he was standing on the edge of the field between the campers and the pool holding what appeared to be a quilt. He was scanning around for you, and when he saw you his face lit up and you jogged over.

"What's with the blanket?" you asked breathlessly, pointing at the big red quilt folded up into his arms.

"Was thinkin' we could share it." Harry's hands weren't free to gesture, but he motioned with his chin towards the ground.

You smiled a tiny bit. "Okay. That's cute." You helped Harry unfold the blanket until it was fully opened and laid on the ground to his left.

The fireworks show was now officially overdue, but fortunately nobody had a watch or a phone that could tell them the difference between eight and eight oh five. The camp had a murmur of mild conversation and excited whispers draped over everyone, and it was completely silenced when the first rocket shot into the air.

As soon as the first firework popped and every head of every camper, counselor, and director was pointed up at the sky, Harry reached over to his right and grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it over both of your bodies, making a small cocoon of just the two of you. You were out in the open, and nobody was looking.

He gazed down at you like you were the most beautiful artwork he had ever seen, like you were the moon, like you were a fireworks show. He fluttered his eyes shut and so did you, and his lips were on yours.

Sparks were flying through your whole being at this intimate yet critically risky move. Making no noise was the hardest part, because even though the explosions and crowd were loud, there were moments of silence as the fireworks shot up... Silence that would shamelessly reveal the gasps and moans and kissing noises the two of you elicited from the other.

Finally, when the oxygen level got just low enough under the blanket that both of you tapped out, he lifted the quilt up and the two of you sat up and enjoyed the rest of the show, breathless and a little sweatier than everyone else there.

Harry looked at you instead of the sky. He was smiling at you, and when you looked down from the show to meet his gaze, his smile did that subtle change when a normal, closed-mouth smile gets bigger, as if he was too happy to keep his teeth hidden. It was like when you were around, there wasn't a face he could physically make to show how happy he was with you.

After the show, when all the campers were tucked away in their cabins, the counselors (except for Sydney, of course) gathered around the massive fire pit by the riverbanks. Harry brought his guitar and some of the cooks brought s'mores ingredients. The fire was lit up and some of y'all roasted marshmallows while the rest enjoyed the music.

One of the girls suggested singing Country Roads and at first everyone laughed, but when Harry started strumming it out softly, nobody could bring themselves to not sing along. Everyone swayed with full hearts as the fire danced up into the night sky.

"I wanna make a toast," Dani announced, standing up from the log she'd been sitting on. "I've been dealing with seemingly infinite young children for almost two months now in addition to one of the most uptight bosses I've ever had, and I once worked for someone who make you clock out to pee." The counselors laughed a little but died down as she continued. "But you know what keeps me going, week after week? You guys. Getting to have moments like this is what really makes summer memorable. That, and the really good garlic bread the kitchen has. Shoutout to Hannah." More laughter erupted as one of the cooks flipped her hair pridefully. "So yeah. I toast to my fellow counselors. May we all make it out without hurting a fellow counselor, a CIT, camper, or Cricket!"

Not everyone had a whole s'more or a water bottle, so the rest of us had to toast with a dry graham cracker. The resources were lackluster, but it was the words that counted and Dani nailed them.

The next day, when you were walking back from Dabbler's with your group, you got an unfortunate message from your hip.

Your walkie talkie crackled to life. "Cricket to Sydney and Y/N. My office, now."

You froze in place. "Ten-four," you muttered to yourself, not even reaching for the talkie. You barely nodded to your CIT before taking off in the direction of the office.

Sydney was already in Crick's office by the time you got there. The three of you stood in the room together in a triangle formation, and the air in the room was palpably tense with the sound of blood rushing in your ears getting louder and louder. Finally, Cricket spoke up with a simple question.

"Can someone explain to my why Paul was in charge of the fireworks yesterday?"

It was silent, and neither you nor Sydney were quite sure what to say. Not only did either of you want to tell the truth, but you also hated each other too much to construct a safe backup story to cover your asses.

Cricket continued. "Yesterday, I gave Sydney the job of setting off the fireworks, and Y/N the job of finding her before the show started. So... pray tell. Why did Paul ask me this morning where the leftover matches and sparklers go? I would've assumed that since I gave Sydney that job that she would've been the one asking me that." Her tone was condescending and drawn out, as if you were stupid.

"I guess I fell asleep," Sydney finally cooed. Oh my God. She was trying to pin this on you! "When I woke up it wasn't until after the show had ended! I must not have been woken up in time." Her eyes drifted over to you, as if you should be ashamed for letting this happen.

"What?!" you shrieked. "You were piss drunk when I found you! You couldn't open a door let alone handle fireworks! You're lucky I didn't leave your ass in the closet to puke all over yourself, and now you're turning me in as if I got you wasted and I didn't cover for you?!" By now you'd reached the breaking point and decided to really seal Sydney's fate. You marched over to the closet you'd discovered Sydney in and yanked the door open. Sure enough, the smell hadn't gone away and neither had the bottles that noisily rolled out. "How do you explain that? 'Cause I don't drink and I don't think Cricket's sauce of choice is a fucking Four Loko! Are you still drunk now? Can you even defend yourself?" you hissed. Earlier in the summer you probably would’ve let Sydney make whatever accusation she wanted and taken it in stride, but you were done. No more making excuses for other people and being a doormat.

Sydney's face flickered, devastated over her blown cover, but pushed on anyways. "At least I'm not a slut! You've been fooling around with Harry this whole summer!"

It's a pretty good thing your anger totally overwhelmed how bad you were at acting. "You fucking liar! You're making that up so you won't get busted even though you already have been. I don't even like Harry! He's loud and arrogant and narcissistic and irrespon--"

"Y/N, that's enough." Cricket finally chimed in, overwhelmed by what was going on. "Nobody likes being accused of things they didn't do, but it's not an excuse to insult Harry. If you have such a problem with him, take it up with him some other time," Cricket reprimanded, and it took so much in you not to burst out laughing. "And you, Sydney, should be embarrassed. Creating a rumor to deflect off your own alcoholism? At least use something believable next time." Crick rolled her eyes as she talked and Syd's jaw was practically on the floor. "I believe your time at Camp Jalita is over. Get your things packed by tonight or the camp board will hear about this and charges will be pressed."

Unable to do anything else, Sydney complied. When she'd left the room and slammed the door behind her, Cricket stepped forward and placed a hand on your shoulder. "I'm sorry I had to call you in here for that. I figured something was up with Sydney and I knew she would lie to me. But you... you're the most trustworthy counselor here, and I thought you'd give me the truth. So thank you. You're free to go back to your girls and enjoy the rest of your week."

"Any time, Cricket," you replied with a smile. So maybe you were lying to her the whole summer and everything she knew about you was a swindle, but Crick's words still made your heart swell.

"Oh, and Y/N?" she called just before you made it outside. "You should really give Harry a chance. He's actually quite a nice boy if you get to know him!" Cricket offered, sitting down at her desk and slipping her glasses on.

You giggled. "Of course, ma'am, I'll try."

Since your campers were busy getting ready to go swimming, the only place you could think to go was back to your cabin. Dani and Kat were on the brunette's bed, poring over a tabloid Dani's mom sent to her through camp mail.

"Y/N? What's wrong? Why are you out of breath?" the girls asked, concerned over your distraught appearance.

You sat on your bed and sighed. "I just got Sydney fired."

Your cabin mates gasped, demanding to know the whole story. You went over every detail, from her chastising you since the beginning of the summer, to her drinking problem, to her blackmailing you, to the meeting you had only moments before.

"Wait, wait, what was she blackmailing you over?" Dani asked, brows furrowed. Oh, right-- she didn't know about you and H. You explained you and Harry's story including any detail you could remember, and by the end of it Dani was practically squealing in delight. "Oh my God! Y'all are so cute together! I should've known. You always get the right temperature in the shower, there had to have been someone else!" You and the other girls laughed together, and you finally felt something that you hadn't felt since before the summer started. You couldn't quite pin what it was, but it was the feeling of not having to hide anymore.

Acceptance? Safety? Freedom? Whatever it was, you wanted to bathe in that feeling forever.

***

With Sydney out of the picture and your two friends offering to cover up for you whenever they could, the remainder of your summer with Harry blew by without you even realizing it. Something else that happened without you realizing it was the two of you falling deeper and deeper in love than either could have fathomed.

Every year, at the end of the summer, the camp staff makes a huge banner to hang up in the Great Hall that every counselor that worked that year signed. There are banners dating back to the 80's, and every year had a certain theme. One was fall-themed and all the felt pieces signed by the counselors were orange and yellow and red leaves. One was rain-themed and the signed pieces were raindrops.

This summer it was art-themed. Each counselor was given a splat-shaped piece of felt to sign their name on. You, of course, demanded your favorite color, annoying the girl passing them out.

You took your time to write your name, carefully writing it in pencil first. You poured yourself a second cup of coffee that day in secret and painstakingly traced it out with a Sharpie. That evening, with caffeine still in your veins, you proudly showed it to Harry at the end of the day before Taps.

"'S beautiful, Y/N," he beamed. "Yeh've got magic hands."

You could feel your cheeks heat up even in the slightly chilly dusk weather. "Thanks, love."

"I was wondering if yeh'd want to... I don' know. Add something small? To commemorate our summer together?" he suggested, voice low.

Your eyes flickered up from the felt piece. "What did you have in mind?" you asked warily, not wanting to be completely obvious.

"A small seashell in one of the arms goin' off th'splat. It's an ancient symbol of love, and also was the symbol of Venus, the Roman goddess of love," he explained, his voice still low.

Your heart swelled at this sweet side of Harry. "Oh, my God, H," you said, matching his volume.

"Let's begin Taps, ladies and Harry and Paul!" Rachel, the camper leader, called. Everyone crossed their arms right over left and clasped hands with the person next to them, creating a giant intimate chain while everyone sung.

"I would love that," you whispered to Harry, dropping your head into the crook of his shoulder before singing, "Day is done..."

"Gone the sun..."

"From the lake, from the hills, from the sky..."

[timeturner-jay]

A Logical Solution to Relationship Problems, as Presented by Robin

Fandom: Young Justice Rated: T (for some swearing) Characters: Artemis Crock, Dick Grayson Pairings: Background Spitfire, pre-Traught if you want to read it that way.

Summary: Artemis has a fight with Wally. Robin knows just the thing to cheer her up. (Gotham Gang bonding by doing Gotham Things together. I will die on this hill.) Canon compliant.

Artemis groaned and slumped against the wall, drawing her knees up to her chest and letting her phone slip out of her fingers, absently watching it land on the mattress with a light bounce.

She had the vague urge to punch something, and she eyed her pillow disdainfully; it wasn't a villain or her idiot of a boyfriend, but it would have to do.

In the end, slamming her fist into the soft material turned out to be less satisfying than she had anticipated – if anything, it only made her feel even more frustrated.

She opted for hugging it to her chest instead as she buried her face in the pillowcase and muttered half-hearted curses into it.

What a shitty night.

Wally was great. He was sweet, he was funny – and he was utterly clueless sometimes.

Artemis let out a huff and glared at her phone like the device was at fault for the fight that had sprung up between her and the speedster.

It had only been three months since that fateful New Year's Eve at the Watchtower. Her rational mind whispered that they were still figuring things out between themselves, and that misunderstandings were bound to happen. Her fist, however, said that it would very much like to punch someone's teeth in instead of worrying about technicalities.

She let her head drop back against the wall dramatically and buried her bare toes further into her comforter. God, this was so stupid. She was acting like a typical teenager in some romcom. This was almost as bad as Hello, Megan. Not that she'd ever say that to M'gann's face, but the Martian's favourite TV show contained exactly the kind of drama that Artemis didn't want in her life. Period.

Still though, her wounded pride stung.

She was itching to go out and do something, but this was Gotham. Batman didn't like other heroes in his city, and she had a reputation to uphold with her hero identity anyway. Artemis was supposed to be a Star City heroine. She couldn't just show up in Gotham City unannounced, or people would start asking questions.

Artemis was just considering the benefits of making the long trek down to the Zeta Tube when a polite knock on her window startled her so badly that she almost fell off her bed.

She was on the fifth floor.

What the fuck.

In one fluid movement, she dove forward, drew her pistol crossbow out from under her bed and trained it on the window, staring through the dirty glass pane with adrenaline-fuelled focus.

Robin grinned awkwardly and waved his free hand in a gesture of cheerful surrender.

Dropping her crossbow in a mixture of baffled surprise and bemused annoyance, Artemis got to her feet and made her way over to the window.

She pulled it open with a little more force than strictly necessary.

“What do you want?”, she asked drily.

Robin gave her a cheeky smile as he climbed all the way up and perched on her windowsill. “Aww, and I'm happy to see you too, Arty!”, he exclaimed.

He then sobered a little. “Actually, I've had a certain speedster whine to me about his relationship problems for the last four hours. He has now succeeded in eating himself into a chocolate-induced coma, so I wanted to check up on you. Wally was mostly feeling sorry for himself, but you-”, he gestured awkwardly, completely failing to underline his point in any meaningful way.

The vigilante huffed and started over. “I thought you might like someone to talk to too. I pride myself on being an impartial and very objective neutral party!”

Artemis felt oddly touched amidst her annoyance, but there was also something else that was very much bothering her.

“How the fuck do you even know where I live, Boy Wonder?”

His smile became sheepish.

“I've always known”, he admitted uncomfortably. “Detective, remember? Actually, Batman had me do surveillance on you for a few days before he offered you that spot on the Team. Sorry about that. The only thing that we knew back then was that Sportsmaster's daughter was running around the city in a costume, but we figured out pretty quickly that you were on our side.”

He coughed awkwardly.

“Bats didn't want you doing the hero-thing in Gotham, at least not unsupervised, so I suggested adding you to the Team instead. That way, you'd get some contacts in the Justice League, better equipment and better chances to help out where it counted. He thought it was a good idea, so he made the arrangements to meet you together with GA.”

Artemis just stared at him, struck dumb.

“Okay. I have no idea if I want to hit you or hug you right now”, she muttered darkly. “But Robin? That's creepy. Seriously, why must you ninja-types always pull weird shit like that?”

His grin regained some of its previous brightness, but the rest of his body language made it clear than he was definitely feeling at least somewhat embarrassed. “Yeah, I know. Sorry again. But I'm glad that I finally got to tell you. Playing dumb about the whole situation in front of you and the Team was really frustrating.”

He got up and hopped off the windowsill, landing inside her room in one annoyingly graceful movement.

“And don't worry. Your secrets are safe with me. I won't tell anyone that you're really a Gothamite, if you'd prefer your private life to stay private. Trust me, I get it.”

Artemis snorted. That, at least, she could easily believe. “No doubts there, Mr. Sunglasses-Indoors”, she teased and lightly boxed him on the shoulder.

He grinned up at her without a hint of remorse, bowing with a dramatic flourish. “I aim to please.”

As Robin straightened back up, she gave him a critical glance. “Thanks for the offer to talk, I guess”, she said, bending down to collect her crossbow off the floor. It wouldn't do to leave her weapons lying around.

She gazed at the well-worn fibreglass handle thoughtfully, trailing her finger along the loading mechanism. “But to be honest, this thing Baywatch and me were fighting about is kind of stupid. Talking about it would only make me feel even more annoyed, I think.”

She lifted her eyes, meeting Robin's gaze. “I'd rather let some steam off.”

Her growing grin was mirrored on his face.

Robin's voice was low and conspiratorial as he leaned forward, and his excited energy was contagious. “I know just the thing. Grab your gear.”

“You're insane.” The flat words were matched by Artemis' equally flat expression, but Robin only cackled. He was only further proving her point, as far as she was concerned. He always sounded absolutely bonkers when he did that.

The duo was standing on a bridge overlooking Gotham's impressive network of train tracks, and Artemis tightened her grip on the shaking railing as a freight train sped by beneath their feet, the vibrations prickling up her legs even through her combat boots.

“No, I'm serious”, she argued. “You're insane. Mad. Absolutely out of your mind!”

Robin's laugh only grew louder, and she gave him a sour glare. “Train surfing. There's no way in hell that I'm going train surfing with you. Train surfing isn't even a thing!”

“Sure it's a thing!”, Robin grinned, his voice still airy and breathless from all his stupid laughter. “Believe it or not, Batman is the one who invented it. ...Admittedly though, he probably wasn't expecting me to make a regular hobby out of it.”

Artemis let out another exaggerated groan, but quite frankly, the idea was starting to grow on her. This was absolutely stupid and idiotic. It was the most reckless thing she had ever heard of.

“What the hell”, she sighed, a slow grin growing on her face. “Let's do it.”

“I was hoping you'd say that”, Robin cackled and promptly pulled something out of one of his many hidden pockets.

It looked like two long, black strips of ...fabric? Artemis stared in puzzlement as Robin reached out to hand her one of the things.

She took it and turned it over in her hands, feeling the dense, soft material between her fingers. It felt almost like a-

“No.”

Her eyes met Robin's, and she got the vivid impression that he was winking at her from behind his mask.

“No. No way.”

He just shrugged and proceeded to tie his own blindfold around his head.

An incredulous laugh bubbled up in her chest, and Artemis doubled over, laughing more freely than she had in what felt like years. She felt light and almost dizzy with excited adrenaline.

“Train surfing! While blindfolded! You're a madman!”

Robin shot her a grin that was somehow still just as bright and dazzling, despite half his face being obscured by fabric.

The archer savoured her laughter for a few more moments as it faded away into breathless giggles, and she gripped the black fabric with renewed determination. The grin on her face was excited enough to rival Robin's own as she raised the blindfold up to her face.

“Fuck yeah. Let's go!”

The wind was whipping past her and her whole body felt alive with the intense vibrations that were racing up her legs from the shaking rooftop of the train.

It was surprisingly easy to stay upright – it wasn't her first time standing on a moving train of course, but all the other times, the Mission had been involved somehow; sometimes even to the point that they were battling on top of the speeding trailers.

She had never thought to associate the sensation with fun.

There was a sudden jolt and she stumbled, regaining her footing with a startled laugh that was echoed from where Robin was standing a few feet to her right.

The sounds of traffic approached rapidly and then faded again just as quickly. They must have just crossed one of the highway bridges, which meant they were well out of Gotham by now. She had no idea where they were even going, but she didn't care. The lack of direction suited her just fine tonight.

For a long time, it was just her, the wind and the train beneath her feet, her body intuitively feeling every curve and shift before it happened, moving to adjust for them without any conscious effort of her own.

The excitement that had been bubbling in her veins slowly faded, being replaced by a calm, warm assuredness that settled in her chest and spread through her whole body, leaving a happy tingling in its wake. A small, contented smile curled the corners of her mouth upwards.

She flung her arms wide, feeling the wind rush past her relaxed limbs. It caught her hair and sent her long ponytail streaming out behind her like a golden flag.

She felt so weightless.

It almost felt like she was flying.

The train gave another unexpected jolt, but this time, she just leaned into the wind further and greeted it with an elated cry, trusting her feet to keep her steady as she allowed herself to get lost in the feeling of utter and absolute freedom.

Her head felt clear for the first time in forever, free of all the things that had been tying her down.

There was just the moment, just this point in time.

She knew that the past would catch up to her again once this was over, and that worries for the future wouldn't be far off either, but for now, she was alive right here and now, and nothing else mattered.

Robin thought similarly, if his own delighted shout was anything to go by.

“By the way, Artemis!” His words barely even reached her, torn away by the wind the moment they left his mouth.

“At the speed we're moving, there should be a tunnel coming up very soon!”

As if to confirm his words, there was another jolt and the feeling of the train's vibrations suddenly changed.

Artemis guessed that they must have switched tracks. Damn, Robin was good.

His next shout sounded a lot more urgent. “Basically, DOWN!”

She was on her back almost as soon as the words left Robin's mouth, her hands blindly grasping for purchase on the smooth roof.

Barely a moment later, a solid wall of stale air hit her body, and suddenly, the train's noise was coming from everywhere at once, echoed back at her from within a much smaller space.

The vibrations, now shaking the whole length of her body, tickled her laughter out of her once more, and she didn't care how loud and breathless it was. Robin joined in a moment later, and their shared exhilaration filled up the darkness around them.

“Thanks for tonight”, Artemis said, and she really meant it.

She swayed slightly, her body still moving with the phantom sensations of a train that wasn't there anymore, and she shared a small smile with Robin, who was standing unfairly steadily compared to her.

They had switched trains eventually, boarding one that was heading back to Gotham, and it had taken them a while to make their way back to her decrepit apartment building.

It was probably close to sunrise now, but Artemis was far from tired. She didn't think that she'd be able to get much sleep with the remaining adrenaline that was still thrumming through her body.

Standing next to the familiar brick walls of her home now, she was almost sad that the night was ending. Still though, the calm happiness that had settled in her chest earlier wouldn't be shaken. She didn't think that she had felt this at peace in a long time.

What had she and Wally been fighting about again? It seemed so insignificant now.

She knew that her boyfriend wouldn't be getting up for a few more hours, but she would call him once he'd be getting ready for school.

She needed to apologise and set things right.

There were more important things than petty squabbles, and she certainly wouldn't allow them to get in the way of the people and things she loved.

“You know what? This was exactly what I needed.” She shot Robin a satisfied smirk, which he returned easily enough.

“Next time you go train surfing again, definitely give me a call.”

He grinned. “You got it! I knew you'd love it.”

And yeah, as much as she hated to admit it, she absolutely did. Robin definitely knew how to have a good time, she'd give him that.

“So, huh. Guess I'll be heading back upstairs now”, Artemis said, giving the dark Gotham sky a critical glance. It was as grey as it ever was, but dark enough that she could safely conclude that sunrise was still some ways off.

“Maybe we can both try to get at least a little sleep. We could probably use it.”

Robin gave her a wry nod and made an aborted motion to raise his hand in a cheeky wave, when suddenly, a bright yellow glare lit up the night sky.

Artemis blinked frantically, trying to clear her eyes as she turned them up towards the looming clouds again.

The Bat Symbol stood out in all its glory against the dark smog, and there was the distinct sound of sirens wailing in the distance.

Robin's raised hand dropped back to his side.

“Oh. Huh”, he said. “So much for sleep, I guess.”

He turned back towards Artemis, one of his trademark grins lighting up his face once again.

“Batman is out of town right now, actually. He wants me to keep an eye on things, but this seems like it might be big. Wanna come along? I don't think people will ask too many questions as long as they see you working together with me.”

Taking the invitation for what it was, Artemis answered him with one of her own smirks. “Oh yeah, I've got plenty of energy left. Just try to keep up, Boy Wonder.”

The warm, happy feeling within her chest only grew brighter as Artemis turned to disappear into the shadows of this dark, familiar city alongside her friend.

It felt like coming home.