#anyways why are camp chairs so hard to draw ??!!

[whimsy-on-wheels]

They just wanna tell some tales and eat s'mores

(character designs by @angelwiththeblue-box)

[mediumgayitalian]

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———

Will is good at making decisions.

It’s one of the only things he’s good at, actually. He can’t fight. He can’t control water or lightning or plants. He’s not as smart as Athena’s kids or as charming as Aphrodite’s. He is clumsy and soft-hearted and stubborn. But he is observant, he always has been, and he prides himself in his ability to think ahead. He keeps his infirmary stocked and his siblings on schedule. He reigns in head counsellor meetings and draws up binders and binders of files and projects — he is organised. He watches, he notices, he reflects, he prepares. He’s as impulsive as the rest of them, sure, but he has enough contingencies in place that he’s solid. A solid head on his shoulders, and he knows it — the head medic must.

So when he watches himself, horrified, diverge from his very detailed twenty-nine step process entitled The di Angelo Dilemma: Approaching Friendship like a Normal Person and ask Nico to come over, he considers the possibility that he has been possessed. Maybe the eidolons that fucked everything up the first time around have been crouching in dark corners, patiently awaiting the perfect time to strike and ruin Will’s life.

“See you then,” says Nico, rushing out the door, and Will smiles at him easily, watching him dash across the common, and then he sets aside the folder he’s updating, walks calmly out of the empty infirmary, nodding to Mr. D. as he passes, turns a corner in the hallway, slips into his favourite supply closet, sticks a chair under the door handle, clears his throat, and screams.

It’s one of those good screams, by design; he takes a good deep breath beforehand and lets the sound billow out of him, lets it scrape the sides of his throat raw and reverberate somewhere in the base of his skull. Were he not home in a camp that regularly makes use of lethal weaponry and deadly rivalry, entire armies would come running to his defense. As it is, he is left to fall to his knees and scream until he is hoarse, or until he hears a faint will you shut the fuck up! echo from around the vegetable gardens.

“Why me,” he croaks, giving in and collapsing to the floor.

It’s a nice floor, really. In between breakdowns he returns and decorates the place, sweeping up the dust and covering floors and surfaces with rugs and throw pillows. A guitar leans in the far corner for when his mother is thousands of miles away and he’s feeling sorry for himself. A photo album lives half-shoved under a shelf for when he is in need of punishing. His sketchbook remains in a constant state of almost-full under the one dusty window. (That one carries slightly less general despair.)

He is, upon reflection, somewhat of a disastrous person.

How fitting.

“Ugh,” he says out loud, to himself, and reaches for his guitar.

He has no intention of playing anything worthwhile. In fact he doesn’t even bother tuning it, not that he can very well anyway, and just strums random chords and riffs and yells over a string of flat discortants, at one point, filling the tiny room with noise ontop of noise ontop of noise until everything is gleefully stifling, like a mass of birds clouding the sun, like the thirteenth year of swarming cicadas, like the twentieth layer of July Texan heat. Until the mess is transferred from inside of his head to outside of it. Until he has committed so many musical sins that his father retreats from the sky a full forty minutes early.

“I feel you are at fault,” says Kayla, when he finally returns to their cabin. “For.” She gestures vaguely at The Outdoors.

“Hnnngh,” responds Will, taking three steps and tipping, gracelessly, onto Austin’s bunk, nearly bouncing right off of it. He catches himself, barely, and presses hard into the pillow, curling when his brother makes space for him, when his sister sighs, deliberately loud, and presses her knee into his thigh as she climbs up, too.

“This is your own fault,” Kayla grumbles. Her bony shoulders settle along the dips of his ribs, next to Austin’s thin ankles. “You could talk about things before they blow up in your face, but nooooooo. You run around doing everything yourself. Moron.”

Will swipes the heel of his hand under his eyes, throat garbling a weird snort-laugh-sniffle. Those bony shoulders tip to the side, slowly, until she curls under his chin, dragging Austin down with her. “You’re so mean to me.”

“Sh-h,” Austin says, patting blindly until his palm finds Will’s face, then patting deliberately. His knees press against Will’s, now, forehead inches away, barely clinging onto the too-narrow mattress. “Quiet town now. Reflect in your foolishness.”

“So mean.”

Years ago, exactly how many Will refuses to count, this exact scenario would be met by lots and lots of teasing, by pinched cheeks and cuffed shoulders and a forehead kissed several times over. There would be at least six instruments played at once, a camera flash the second he walked in the door pouting, and more lights on that would ever be necessary. An oft-repeated and never-resolved debate, probably; you coddle him, Cass; oh, shut up, Michael, he’s little. The scent of woodgrain and antiseptic and vanilla. A thousand other details he never thought to memorize.

Now there is quiet, or at least more of it.

Kayla hums, notes muffled as she gnaws on her lip, and Austin’s socked feet tap against the blankets, mapping out the tune playing out in his far-away eyes. The last final glow of the horizon turns red, then orange, then violet, sinking into dark navy blue, and their aunt blinks her way into focus, stretching widely across the thin wisping clouds. The fairy lights wrapped around the pillars and ceiling beams blink alongside the stars, chatting away to each other, and the breeze from the window is soft and warm and almost as sweet as southern jasmine. There is a pit in the dead centre of Will’s chest, and he is afraid Kayla will fall into it, and then Austin; afraid they will succumb to his gaping maw.

“What if I ruin absolutely everything,” he says. He swallows, and then again, and again, because his throat is dry, escape for the burning trails mapping the his face from corner of his eye to mouth. “What if I — scare. Am. What if I’m the reason, again.”

Diana snorts. You are such a drama queen.

And that’s coming from this theatre, Lee adds, gesturing grandly to the gold pillars of the cabin. You’ll be fine, kid.

A chorus of agreements from the rest of the occupied bunks; Kate’s encouraging grin, Leanna’s fond hair ruffle as she dances past, Amir’s wink.

Will smiles and blinks back and he is gone, and Michael’s scowl disappears, and Kate and Phoebe’s laughter fades from the background. The cabin is quiet, shadowy; Austin and Kayla breathe quietly, swallow silently.

“I don’t know,” Kayla admits. “You — could be. Again.”

Will squeezes his eyes shut. He begs for Lee to go back to his sleep for the night. He inhales around the shake and inhales and inhales and inhales and feels the vacuum dead centre in his body, like from navel to spin, twisting, tubing, sucking; take, take, take, take. Can I, can I, can I. I want. Please. Let me have.

“I’m not sure it’s better not to try, though.” Austin’s hands curl around Will’s palm. “Right? You always say to — try. Do your best.”

A smile curls up the corner of Will’s mouth.

“I do.”

“And you did try.”

“I did.”

“Did it fail?”

Will flicks down to meet Kayla’s eyes, squinting one and tucking his chin.

“I asked to come over.”

“Oh, well — okay, Marilyn Monroe. Like that’s a new thing.”

“For no reason.”

“…Oh.”

“I could go on the sand rant, Kayla. I’m like a sleeper agent. As soon as he says it, I’ll — you know.”

Austin shifts, frowning thoughtfully. “I mean, he kind of already knows you’re weird.”

“Not this weird!”

“I think everyone knows you’re weird, actually,” Kayla adds. She wiggles, squirming and elbowing until she is half-perched on the fleshy part of Will’s waist, ignoring his wheezing. “Being a nerd dork loser is kind of your whole thing.”

“It is not!”

“You have binders dedicated to people, Will.”

“That’s not bad!”

“Specifically on how to best socialize with them, Will.”

“That’s — thoughtful!”

“…Sometimes being related to you is hard.”

“I am! Collecting data! To better my relationships! What is the issue!”

Austin and Kayla exchange a meaningful look — which does not, Will is relatively certain, usually involve putting your entire palm on your brother’s face and shoving it so it cannot be seen. Kayla.

“You’re doomed to fail,” they decide. And then they kick him off the bed, which is rude, but he is weak to their giggling, and it’s bedtime for them, anyways.

As per his carefully outlined routine they are sent to the showers and sinks, back in half an hour, bickering. As per his less carefully outlined but nonetheless regularly present routine they are separated physically from each other and shoved to seperate bunks. As per his most carefully outlined routine, he follows them each, ignoring their complaints, and presses the back of his hand to each forehead, closing his eyes as he lets his life force bleed into theirs, mixing, checking, making sure.

“We’re fine,” Kayla grumbles.

“Shut up and cough,” Will orders.

Austin gives him less trouble. Will makes a show of thanking him for it. Kayla throws her extra pillow. Will takes it, placing it on his own bed. It is silent after he says goodnight, silent as he clicks off the light, gathers his caddy, pads to the door.

“Goodnight,” whispers a voice, half hidden by the creak of the screen door as he opens it.

“Goodnight,” whispers another, half hidden by the cream of the screen door as he closes it.

“Goodnight,” Will repeats, grinning. “Sleep well, kiddos.”

They grumble, and their bedsprings groan as they turn away, mimicking the grate of the rickety porch steps. That, at least, is familiar; that at least matches the echoes that bounce around the walls of the cabin and the inside of his skull.

———

next

[jjuniehao]

[09:23 pm]: choi soobin || part 2

“i’m done, i’m just gonna sleep on the damn floor,” soobin groans as he plops down on the ground, letting his back hit the wall and resting his head against it.

the two of you are currently in the process of moving into a shared apartment, and it’s going as well as one would expect: boxes everywhere, you’re both starving after hauling boxes and furniture all day, and none of the key pieces like your beds, couch or even just chairs are assembled yet.

…which means you’ll have to sleep on the floor on the first night in your new apartment. how nice.

soobin was the one that insisted on assembling it all yourselves, since getting it delivered and assembled is a scam, why would we pay someone to do that? it’s gonna be fine.

it wasn’t fine.

at first you were ecstatic to be moving in with your lifelong best friend, but now, staring at all the half-assembled pieces of furniture, little screws, metal pieces and manuals strewn all over the floor, you start to have your doubts.

“you know, if we had just payed—“

“if we had payed we would have wasted a shit ton of money, and for what?”

there is a scowl on your face, and it makes you wonder why he has such a personal vendetta against hiring someone to assemble some furniture.

“well for starters, we wouldn’t have to sleep on the stupid floor—”

“one night on the floor won’t kill us. you’re supposed to sleep on a hard surface anyways, right? it’s good for your back. i think, i dunno,” he shrugs at the end and you can’t help but snort at him.

“could you at least try to be convincing, bin?”

“listen, i’m just as pissed and tired as you. let’s just unpack some pillows and a blanket for now, and i promise we’ll work on our beds first thing in the morning.”

you observe him for a second, and only now do you notice the overwhelming exhaustion on his face. maybe sleeping on the floor isn’t so bad after all. maybe it’ll get rid of the kink in your neck.

you let out a sigh, and turn to the mountains of boxes, “fine. but you better help me look for a blanket.”

within 20 minutes the mess on the floor is made even worse by random pieces of clothes, cutlery, books and decorations strewn around. the mountains of boxes have been reduced to little hills consisting of half-empty boxes, the contents messily thrown around in the desperate search of a pillow or a blanket.

emptying another box filled with clothes and finding nothing of value you sigh and move on to the next one; a lighter box that upon opening envelops you in the warm, fluttering feeling of nostalgia.

the box is filled to the brim with childhood pictures, drawings and notebooks you filled out when you were younger, colouring books, diaries, sticker books — your entire childhood was staring back at you from that box and you can’t resist the urge to look through it all, right now.

carefully examining the contents of the box, you start by taking a closer look at the heaps of pictures, chuckling a little at the dozens of pictures of you and soobin. you and soobin during a play in kindergarten, holding hands and both of your faces painted in a wide array of colours. you and soobin on your 8th birthday, with him holding his gifts for you proudly into the camera while you’re standing next to him, most assuredly buzzing with excitement. soobin bidding you farewell for the two week camp your parents signed you up to when you were 10, both of you crying and unwilling to spend two weeks apart from each other.

“bin, come look at what found..”

“y/n, if it isn’t a soft, cuddly pillow i don’t want to—“ soobin cuts himself off when he sees the pictures in your hand, and you can tell he’s experiencing the same wave of warm nostalgia you had when you first opened the box.

he takes the pictures from your hands, sifting through them with a fond smile on his face. while he continues to go through the pictures, you focus your attention on the other things in the box.

sticking out between two wildly decorated notebooks was an envelope. upon closer inspection you can tell it’s a little older, the edges a little worn. the envelope is decorated with stickers and your name is written in confident but clumsy writing, a little heart scribbled next to your name.

you open the envelope carefully, not wanting to accidentally damage a childhood relic, especially one as cute as this. the letter inside makes you want to scream and cry thanks to the sheer cuteness of it all.

hello y/n

i like you

i will buy you an ice cream

so pleas like me back

mom says we can marry if you want

bye

there were little scribbles of cats, smiley faces, hearts and stick figures (that presumably represent you and your mysterious admirer) all over the papers, leaving little to no unoccupied space. they are delightful, and the contents of the letter are a whole different level of adorable.

you can’t help the little awww that escapes you, and soobin immediately leans over to check what has you swooning like that, when your original quest of searching for blankets and pillows seems to have been long forgotten. his eyes almost pop out his skull when he sees, no, recognises the letter.

“how could i have forgotten this? it‘s so cute,“ you mumble, and soobin snorts. “yeah, super cute how you can barely read it. i remember my mom making me practice writing it all out a few times because it was so hard to read,“ soobin chuckles and sifts through some of the other stuff in the box.

you just blink down at the letter, then up at soobin. he was so casual about it, as if it was a well-known fact. feeling your heavy stare on him he stops rummaging and meets your eyes, “…what? is there dust on my face—“

“you wrote it?“

the disbelief in your voice makes his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, nodding silently. why were you so surprised? who else would it have been, other than him?

“bin, you‘re telling me you had a crush on me and didn‘t think to tell—“

“i was like five, what does it matte—“

“yeah, you were five but you wanted to marry me! that’s a serious crush—“

he groans and snatches the letter from your hands, folding it up and fiddling it back into the envelope, “let’s just forget this, it’s history.”

you grin and pinch his cheek, making him scowl and stare at you with furrowed brows, “well, how can i know it’s history if you never told me about it?? you could still want to marry me! so tell me bin, what about me—“

“y/n please, we were five! everyone else was ‘getting married’ and you were my closest friend, okay? even if i had a crush, it doesn’t matter anymore—“

“okay, then when did it stop?“

“what?”

“the crush. when did you get over me?”

he stares at you, stammering something akin to what do you mean and why do you care, though it comes out all jumbled. he’s shaking his head in disbelief, looking at you as if you’re crazy.

“it’s just a question, bin.” your voice is soft now and he hates it; hates the fact that it makes him feel like you’re pitying him, like he’s a loser. he can practically envision you telling him that it’s your fault and not his, how he’s your best friend, how you love him but don’t see him that way — it makes his blood boil and just throws him further down the hole.

he huffs and walks over to the other side of the room, ripping open another box, all in silence.

“..soobin?“ no answer, just him rummaging through the contents of the box.

“bin, i’m sorr—“

he suddenly pulls out a blanket, and finds some pillows underneath as well. he briefly looks at you, kneeling on the floor to make a somewhat comfortable arrangement the two of you can sleep in for the night. you walk over to him and before you can react, he mumbles, “i don’t want to talk about it, okay? i‘m tired, please.“

you nod silently and go to turn off the lights when he is done building a (admittedly) rather sad looking sleeping arrangement, and as much as you want to tease him, it would probably just make him more upset. so you bite your tongue, laying down next to him and stare up at the ceiling in silence.

you‘ve slept next to each other countless times, but not once did soobin seem this hell-bent on bringing as much space as possible between you two. “night,” you mumble, fully expecting him to ignore you, but to your surprise he says it back. the two of you lay next to each other like two wood blocks, and it’s incredibly awkward. this is you and soobin, there is no awkward between you two! both of you are uneasy, and you can feel his hand twitch next to you when you readjust your position a little.

taking a deep breath your own hand slowly inches towards soobin’s, until your pinkies are touching. it takes a while for either of you to move, until soobin carefully moves his hand towards yours. then you move yours a little closer, then him, so on and so forth until you end up with your hands tightly intertwined. you were ready to fall asleep like this and pretend nothing ever happened once you wake up tomorrow. up until soobin suddenly breaks the silence, that is.

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

you’re glad he can’t see your face, because you can’t help the goofy smile on your face.

“okay.”

[bakeryblood]

Suzie, do you copy?

Eddie Munson x Male!Henderson!Reader

cw: Siblings are weird, coming out, dustin x suzie

“Okay man, all I’m saying is- I’ve got game!” Dustin’s contentious bragging pulled various groans and whines from his friends as they walked the halls of the High School. They had originally been looking for Eddie and Dustin’s older brother but so far without luck.

“Dustin I swear, if you go on about Suzie’s beautiful eyes—“

“Yeah or her amazing, luscious hair!”

“I’m going to throw up..” Will and Lucas chimed back and forth and Dustin simply grinned.

“Wow guys, I could cut through this jealousy with a knife.”

Suddenly, before anyone could defend themselves against the accusation of jealousy a certain long, curly haired man jumped from around the corner. Hands up beside his face as he screamed at the kids, causing them to leap and scream back for a moment before they realized it was Eddie who doubled over in laughter as their fear responses settled.

“Tell me why we were even looking for him again?” Maxine asked as Lucas looked at her, remembering she didn’t usually join them on one of their Friday hang out sessions. He was about to respond when Eddie chimed in after finishing up his laughing fit and Y/N creeped out from behind the walk Eddie had leapt out from behind with his arms crossed.

“So, little man got himself a girl?” He clasped his hand on Dustin’s shoulder in a congratulatory manner as they smiled up at him until his brother cleared their throat drawing their attention onto him.

“Does mom know?” Fuck. Of course their mom didn’t know. To anyone in their friend group who knew his mom and had spent any decent amount of time at his house could attest to the fact that letting Mrs. Henderson know of a relationship was like letting all of Hawkins know. She was the complete opposite of unsupportive.

‘Oh my goodness, call her up Dustin! I want to meet her! Should we all take a road trip? I knew that camp was a good idea!’ The mischievous smirk on his brothers face contrasted Dustin’s just that much more as both of them thought over their mothers potential reaction.

“O-Of course she does!” Damn. If his voice hadn’t cracked perhaps he would’ve sounded a little bit more convincing. Y/N crossed his arms and stared his little brother down for a minute before they rushed past the two seniors.

“L-Like I said, y’all are all just jealous of me!” He walked backwards and looked at his friends unamused faces before setting his gaze in on Eddie who was really trying very hard to keep from cracking up with laughter again. Y/N and his smoke session they’d just finished moments earlier wasn’t helping him in the slightest. It was almost painful trying to hold it in.

They all followed after Dustin as he led the way to their club room, flooding in and settling in in the chairs that scattered around the table. They hadn’t had plans for a game tonight, or even getting ready for their next campaign, none of them seemed to have anything better to do then occupy the space and talk amongst themselves. Which was exactly what they would have been doing at one of their homes anyway.

“Sick of this..” Dustin mumbled to himself, his cap shading his irritated face. He knew he was screwed now, his brother never missed an opportunity to keep their moms attention on him so that he could freely do whatever he wanted.

“Sick of what Henderson?” Eddie took up his spot at the head of the table with Dustin sitting to his side as his right hand man. Eddie was probably the least likely to actually get mad at him for teasing them and it helped him feel better about how his friends his own age treated him about his relationship.

“Sick of being the only one with a girlfriend for one…Aren’t you supposed t’ be our leader? Why’re you still single?”

Munsons dark eyes widened slightly as he placed a hand on his chest in a feign insulted manner. “Who the hell said I was single?”

This made multiple members of the club crack up, making Dustin feel successful on getting the attention off of himself with grand comedic timing. “Eddie. Do you see any girls here? ‘Cause I sure don’t.”

“What the fuck.” Max threw her arms up and Dustin shot her a look of ‘what?’ before turning back to his older friend who had Y/N leaning against his ‘throne’.

“Who said it had to be a girl he’s dating?” Y/N chimed in and Eddie leaned over onto the table with his hands covering his face. They had specifically talked about this exact scenario coming about and agreed they would ease Dustin into this conversation.

Dustin looked at his brother and then back to Eddie multiple times before cracking a grin. “Okay, yeah, you two are fucking with me.” Y/N chuckled and softly shook his head, letting his brother rake his brain as his smile fell. All those nights Eddie picked them up super late and he never came back. Getting rides after school. Them always being together before club meetings. Oh my fucking god.

“Nope nope nope. Not falling for it, good try though.” He waved his hand in the air as if to dismiss their attempt at fooling him into believing that they were actually secretly a couple.

“Oh no, you’re right. We’ve totally just been practicing The Never Ending Story to sing at you and Suzie’s wedding. Not fu—“

“Okay! Y/N, go do something else. Anything else, please..” Eddie revealed his flushed face and looked at you pleadingly. Once again Dustin was losing the battle within himself to not believe what you were saying. But if the two of you were joking wouldn’t Eddie be helping you out? Playing along with you?

“Holy shit..” Dustin now mirrored Eddie’s earlier position while his brother laughed at the expression that had been on his face. Y/N knew he wasn’t genuinely disgusted by the idea, more so taken a back. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t caught on sooner and now in his attempt to embarrass Eddie, which he did succeed in doing, he’d also embarrassed himself.

The eldest Henderson brother was the only one unapologetically laughing at both of them as the rest of the group discussed what was happening. Either voluntarily admitting they had figured it out early on in the school year while others were still on the fence about believing it. They just didn’t have the context clues Dustin did.

“Oh come on ‘dusty buns’, is it really that bad now that you know?” Y/N held onto Eddie’s chair to keep from doubling over as his brother shot up out of his seat, getting more embarrassed by the second.

“Of course it is! You- You can’t just not tell me things like that!” So that’s really what it was. He wasn’t mad his brother was gay, he was mad because he felt lied to. He felt like the two of them should have been able to confide in each other like that, even if they butted heads like any other pair of siblings would. Hell, Y/N was the first one he told about Suzie and he’d helped him make Cerebro so he could talk to her. He was the only one hyping him up about his relationship while all his friends chose to not believe him.

Y/N stopped laughing and took a moment to let his brothers body language and facial expression register to him, realizing that Dustin was actually genuinely upset. “Dude, I’m sorry-“

“Fuck off, no you’re not.” He left his bag on the table as he pushed the chair back and started to head for the door. Lucas reached out to grab his arm but the curly haired boy was moving to fast for him to snag ahold of his jacket.

“Dustin, come on! Don’t leave!” Eddie called out to him before smacking the table in frustration. Y/N rubbed the back of his neck and gave a moment to think about how to handle the situation before heading off after him, only to stop at the door and hold up his hand which Eddie quickly caught on to and pulled his van keys from his jacket pocket. Tossing them to him and then watching as he went out the door as well. “Fucking great, now they’re both gone.” He motioned to the door before going back to his chair and slumping down into it.

“Don’t worry, Dustin has never stayed mad for long.” Lucas piped up and Max slapped her hand on his chest, causing him to let out a soft ‘ow’. “Don’t say that! You don’t even know if he is mad, we don’t know anything about those twos’ dynamic.”

When Max was right she was right, siblings are fickle things. Erica and him could seem to be at each other’s throats but that was just how they were with each other. When they were younger Dustin always seemed to brag about his brother. Saying things like, ‘If I get to be even half as cool as him y’all better watch out, I’ll be so popular.’ When in reality Dustin was the only one who really thought of them that way until him and Eddie connected.

What they did all know is where Dustin was probably headed, meaning his brother would also have no problem catching up to him and having a much needed heart to heart talk.

________________________________________

“Suzie..Suzie do you copy?” Dustin sniffled as he was met with radio static. “Suzie please pick up, I really need to talk to someone!”

“Dusty? Oh my gosh, are you crying?” He smiled as he heard his girlfriends voice and he cleared his throat and wiped his face with his free hand before responding.

“No..of course not…”

“Please don’t lie to me, just tell me what happened..”

Dustin sat on the ground, knees pulled up to his chest as one pulled at the grass on the hill and the other held the radios mic close to his face. “So that’s it pretty much..my best friend and brother are dating…”

“Well that’s just great dusty buns! Aren’t you happy for them?” Suzie exclaimed after turning the volume on her radio back up, having turn it town out of fear that her religious parents might hear her boyfriend using foul language let alone talking about a relationship between two men.

“I want to be! That’s the whole point babe, why couldn’t he just tell me? Did he really think I would think he was weird or gross or something?” Dustin bopped the mic against his head a few times after releasing the button.

“Maybe he thought…you were ready to know.” Dustin jumped at the sound of his brothers voice as he came over the edge of the hill, slightly out of breath. He scrambled to his feet, dropping the mic for the radio in the process and looked at him slightly fearful.

“Calm down. You’re the one mad at me, remember?” Y/N walked over and plopped down on the grass, picking up the mic as Suzie repeatedly asked Dustin if everything was okay. “Hey uh, Dustin’s all good. Y/N here, thanks for keeping him company.”

Suzie gasped, covering her mouth at the sound of Y/Ns voice over the radio. Slightly worried he might be upset that the two of them were talking about his personal life the way they had been. “I’ll let you get back to it in a few minutes, alright?”

“A-Alright! Absolutely! Take all the time you need!” She stuttered back to him before placing her mic down and running towards her bed, throwing herself down into the plush sheets. To think this was had to be the first time she’d gotten to hear her future brother-in-laws voice, under these circumstances!

“What’re you talking about..” Y/N sighed as Dustin came and sat next to them despite his uncomfortable attitude.

“Me, being gay. You wanted me to be transparent with you so let’s be transparent.”

The younger boy huffed and kept his eyes fixed to the grass ahead of them. “So what, you thought I was too immature to know about y’all? I’m not stupid Y/N.”

“Dustin, I didn’t say you were stupid. But you did wear Chewbacca underwear up until last year.” His younger brother gave them a weak shove before allowing himself to give a small laugh.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with maturity, Star Wars is for all ages.”

“You only stopped wearing them because mom couldn’t find them in your size anymore dude..” Y/N had to catch himself before he let a laugh slip out himself. “Anyway, that’s not important right now. Eddie and Me is new alright? We weren’t looking to hide it from you forever.”

“Yeah but— You can’t act like you just woke up senior year and decided you liked guys!”

“No, of course not. Maybe that’s how things work out for other people, but I’ve known for a long time. Probably since I was your age..” Y/N and Dustin sat in silence for a few minutes, both of them flip flopping from feeling more and less uncomfortable.

“But no shit I don’t think you’re stupid Dust, I thought I was just telling you we were dating. I thought you knew.” Dustin made a face at him, mouth open. “How the hell would I know? You hang out with girls all the time! What about prom?”

Y/N finally let himself laugh. “Those are girl friends Dustin, not girlfriends.” He pushed his curly hair off of his sweaty face and grinned, imagining how much of a lady killer his little brother must have thought he was. “You do realize how small this town is, small towns are not the friendliest to my type…Plus back then I thought I needed cover girls anyway..”

Dustin mumbled ‘cover girls’ to himself thinking over what it must’ve meant. “Does mom know?”

“Of course mom doesn’t know, mom doesn’t know anything that isn’t a question on jeopardy. ‘Who is- your queer son!’” Y/N imitated Alex Trabek’s voice as he made the joke and they both burst out laughing. “Plus if I had ever told her you’d have to fill her in about Suzie, you know that woman is crazy about having grandkids.”

“Ew.” Y/N rolled his eyes at his younger brothers response, of course he’s still not at that age. They’d cross that bridge when they got to it.

“Are we good?”

“Yeah bro, we’re always good.” Dustin gave his brother his signature toothless grin as he got back up off the grass, brushing his ass off as he did so before giving a stretch. Not looking forward to the trek back down the hill one bit he figured he might as well get a move on before Eddie started walking home.

“Get home safe, don’t spend all night out here!” He hollered back as he made his way off.

Dustin sighed and looked down at the mic for the radio and rushed to pick it up out of the grass, “Suzie, oh my god I’m so sorry! Uh, him and me are on the same page now..are you still there?”

Radio static filled his ears once again for a minute until he heard those giggles that were music to his ears. “Oh, thank god.”

“Chewbacca huh?” Evil. His brother was pure evil, and he would be getting him back.

[3vwritesthings]

“What you want you shall receive.”

Contains: Suggestive content/making out.

(Gn reader)

————————————————————————

After Eula and Amber had headed down the mountain a bit for an ice bath leaving Bennett fast asleep in his chair, you turned your head to see Albedo carefully sketching something on a piece of paper attached to his clipboard. The way his wrist moved so gracefully along its surface was mesmerizing, almost magical; pencil making neat, clean strokes with every movement. Albedo looked up from his work, noticing you in your seat.

“Need anything?” He asked, teal eyes meeting your own.

“I was just wondering what you were drawing.”

He moved closer to you, clipboard and paper still in hand.

“Oh, Um. I’m creating a table.”

He showed you the amazingly detailed sketch of a table he’d drawn.

“I don’t have a decently large tables here in the camp, so I was going to make one using alchemy as I did with the chairs.”

You weren’t an alchemist, but you still found the way that it worked quite interesting. A while ago, Timaeus had taught you a bit of the basic things you could do with it, the way it worked.

You watched Albedo craft a long, medium-sized table out of his sketch with materials previously collected. Its design was simple, but all the same beautiful.

Seeing you observe his work in such amazement made Albedo happy. He smiled softly, getting up from his seat to move the new furniture to the back. On his return, he grabbed a book of the shelf and sat down once again. Before opening the book he’d grabbed, he noticed the fire’s light glowing onto your face. Attention now drawn to you, Albedo started to discreetly look at the rest of your features. Your face, hands, eyes, and your neck. You looked so innocent, so beautiful in this moment, fire blazing onto your perfect image.

Unbeknownst to Albedo, you were also looking at him as well. When Albedo had (seemingly) opened his book and read it, your eyes drifted to his soft, blonde hair. It shimmered brightly like the snow.

When you looked back at the teal irises, you locked eyes as he leaned in closer, slowly closing them. You kissed each other deeply, his lips touching your own softly, lovingly, passionately. Breaking away the two of you gasped for air, resuming the kiss moments after. After a bit, Albedo started to slide his tongue into your slightly open mouth, exploring it. The wet muscles clashed, fighting for dominance until his hands pulled you closer to sit you on his lap. You could feel his hard member as you shifted to position yourself more comfortably. The movement released a low moan from the alchemist. Hearing his soft voice was like music to your ears.

“Albedo…I want you.”

“Then what you want you shall receive.”

———————————————————

I wrote this 6 months ago so I didn’t know what else to add since I forgot the prompt.

Haha…oops.

I don’t know why the end is double spaced between lines but oh well.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to ask for requests in Askbox.

Stay hydrated and eat <3

[chaoticneutralwriter]

GD!Jimin Halloween Special: Camp Horror

You go camping, what could possibly go wrong? Spoilers: Everything.

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: comedy, romance, some horror elements, supernatural, fluff

word count: 12.8k (o lordt)

related works: see masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Warnings: coarse language, forced abduction, some violence, some gore mentioned (nothing too bad, its very censored loll), attempted murder (happy ending tho!)

A/N: i was.....*so* close... ah haha....ha..... h a.....

This was supposed to be my halloween special chapter (or at least, i tried ;w;), all based off this one tumblr post i saw in passing LOL (image below) but anyways, it doesn’t really fit into the timeline well so just take it as a fun separate episode, filled with lots of stupid horror movie element tropes. Also, a lot of it is inspired by movies like The Babysitter and Jennifer’s Body?? Anyways, happy belated halloween! 🎃🎃 hope you enjoy this little read break from main story ;w;

“So, wait you're actually going?”

“...Yes?”

He blinks perplexedly, as if he still can't believe it. Honestly, neither can you when you answered yes. You watch him for a moment more, the tiniest wrinkle of confusion settling between his perfectly shaped brows, plush pink lips parted slightly as if wanting to say more. So you wait until his eyes don't look so lost in his thoughts and instead, are directed back to you in a very puppy-like fashion – head slightly tilted and all.

“I thought you said you don't like camping?”

“Ehh....” You sort of half-shrug, but also not outright denying him because it is true; you do not like camping. The entire concept of it encompasses all the things you don't personally enjoy; being outdoors in the wild which means you're exposed to the elements, having nothing but a flimsy cube of nylon to protect you, you're essentially sharing a living space with things that can potentially kill you i.e. Bears, unknown poisonous snakes, killer wasps....and just bugs in general, and on top of that – if you really want the full camping experience – your washrooms are often portable potties or worse.

You cringe every time you had to use a public washroom whenever you're out. And that's just in restaurants and malls alone.

“Did they say it was glamping instead?” Jimin asks, eyes narrowing almost suspiciously, determined to get a logical explanation for your sudden change in heart. When you shake your head no (very regrettably, you think you'd honestly be a little more enthusiastic if it was glamping), his rich brown eyes widen, completely stumped. “Then why....?”

“They kinda cornered me on this one, saying I hate it when I haven't even tried it yet.” You finally admit, shoulders slumping as if accepting your fate. “Also that we'd be on like, a designated camp ground? So the entire area is supposedly safe and in case of emergencies, there would be facilities you can reach easily if you're not out of the boundary.”

Jimin crosses his arms, leaning back in your desk chair languidly. He's dressed down casually; a black t-shirt with an oversized navy knit cardigan thrown over it for the milder, cooler weather, with a big letterman LV patch on one side, black denim jeans and of course, black Chelsea boots which have become a staple for him now. It's a very simple look that never fails to make your heart skip a beat, so effortless and chic. His little hum of intrigue draws you out of your secret (not really secret) ogling and you're met with the sight of him nodding rather sagely at your reasoning.

Now it was your turn to side eye the demon. “What?”

“Nothing, I just find it amusing you agreed to it yet just now, you sound like you're still trying to convince yourself that this is a good idea.” Jimin says, lips quirking in a way where you know he's trying hard not to laugh. Feeling called out, you let him know that it doesn't go unnoticed.

“You're just excited to watch me suffer trying to survive in the woods for three days aren't you?”

“I never said such things cherub, but my heart does flutter whenever we're on the same wavelength.”

And there it is, that notorious cheek. You really shouldn't be surprised.

As you sigh heavily through your nose, Jimin continues to grin at you toothily which only gets more of a rise out of you and you find pettiness rearing its ugly head.

“Okay first off rude, and second, I'm gonna go just to prove you wrong and when it turns out I'm actually super talented at camping?” You lower your voice into a stage whisper, taking a few steps closer and leaning towards Jimin to say tauntingly, “You're gonna look like the biggest clown for all Hell to see.”

Not one to back down, Jimin also mimics you but leans in a lot closer that it has you faltering back a little, a wicked glint in his eyes and a smile much more devilish than before.

“Oh? Confident are we?” He purrs, the feel of his hot breath fanning across your lips has you swallowing imperceptibly. You try hard to maintain strong eye contact but you're no match for Jimin and he makes sure to rub it in that he knows it too. Slowly, he reaches a hand up, his fingers playing with a loose strand of your hair nonchalantly as he continues in that low gravel, dark eyes never leaving yours, “I'll be sure to not miss a second of it. Just tell me when and where.”

“This long weekend, at this place called Blackwood Creek Campsite about an hour and a half drive from the city.” You deadpan, trying to remain unfazed as you swat his hand away even as the back of your neck begins to heat up. You're surprised to see instead the mischievous smile on him faltering slightly, suddenly looking pensive before Jimin tilts his head away to kiss his teeth in annoyance.

“Shit, I'm already busy with something on those days....”

You perk up at the notion, straightening up to give him a curious look. “Doing what? If you don't mind me asking.”

He waves carelessly, “Just some interim meeting or whatever – I wasn't paying much attention. All that I know is that it's a headache but I have to be there 'or else.'”

You giggle quietly as you see him roll his eyes, can't help but to use this opportunity to poke fun at him more. “Aww, poor you. Guess that means you'll be missing out on all the fun after all.” You go as far as to reach out a daring hand to give him a 'comforting' pat. You don't quite make it to its intended target because halfway, Jimin catches your wrist and in one fluid motion, you are now the one who's comfortably straddling his lap.

The complaints and protests forming at the tip of your tongue wither into a breathless gasp as you feel those pillowy lips brush against the base of your throat.

“Hmm...you're right cherub.” Jimin hums, pressing each word into your skin, trailing along the natural path to your collar. At the same time, those wandering fingers begin to sneak under the hem of your shirt and before you knew it, you're putty in his hands. Smirking, he continues, “So why don't we have our own fun to make up for it?”

-

“Girl, we're going for three days, not a whole week.” Your friend Mei laughs as she watches you heave your bags into the trunk of your shared car. You shoot her a glare that had no real hostility behind it, pouting as you did.

“Okay, so I'm a little high-maintenance, but it doesn't hurt to be over-prepared you know.”

“This is camping, not going off to war though.” Jess pipes up, nudging her hip playfully against yours on her way by you. “I've done this plenty of times, Y/N! You have nothing to worry about!” She follows up with a small twirl, spreading her arms up into the air and beaming, “And look how great the weather is! Consider ourselves lucky because the weather is what makes it rough half of the time, so everything is gonna be fine~”

You can't help but smile, knowing that Jess was trying to put your worries to rest and for the most part, it worked. Plus, you think to yourself, not like you can complain much since at the end of the day, you did agree to it so you told yourself that you're not going to let your initial biased opinions on camping prevent you from having a fun getaway with your friends.

“Alright! I think that's the last of everything. Everyone got everything they need because this is your last chance before we hit the road.” Soohee declares, shutting the trunk close. After listing out all the necessities you need amongst yourselves, you all clambered in and begin your hour and a half journey. Much of it was spent catching up, telling stories, and of course, impromptu karaoke to your K-pop playlist.

You get there in no time, passing by the camp ground gates and continuing the drive deeper until you reach the first base where the main facilities are located to do your check-ins (and stretch your legs). You let out a groan as you pop a joint, doing a once over of the area. You're pretty much in the woods, surrounded by tall pines on all sides that offer shade in the mid-afternoon sun. You spot many campers and their cars, as well as some RVS parked not too far off on the more spacious grassy areas in between the trees. Besides here, there was a gravel road that lead further off into the encampment and branches off to what you would assume are more areas you can set up in.

From what you've seen online, it's pretty big; with a few small lakes, a decent hiking trail and designated bonfires. On first impressions, you like the change of scenery. With that thought, you pull out your phone to take a quick video of the place, sending it to your social medias and....

Your fingers move automatically to pull up the conversation thread, sending the video there along with a message; “Made it to the camp grounds!”

A short minute later, you get a reply.

“That's good to hear. Have fun! And remember, don't let the bears eat you ;P”

You snort, about to shoot off your own snarky reply (something along the lines of, 'yeah whatever, have fun at your boring demon business meeting too XP') when suddenly –

“WAAH!!” The yelp comes out way louder than you had liked, undignified but you have more pressing issues to worry about than drawing unwanted attention to yourself. Like how that damn wasp nearly just flew right into your face!! You're ducking reflexively and scurrying away to do half a lap around the car, curling in on yourself until you're sure it's not following you. Off to the side, you can hear Jess laughing.

“Are you good?”

“That nearly flew into my face!!” You immediately retort. You peek around just once more to make sure before straightening up again, a scowl tugging at your lips. Refreshing view, not so refreshing wildlife. 0/10. You suppose it's a good thing you packed insect repellent.

Soohee comes back right at that moment, holding a bunch of pamphlets with a big grin on her face. “Alright ladies, we're good to go! I was just looking at the map here and saw a place by the lake, I think that would be a nice spot to set up if there's space.”

“Oh, that does sound good. Yeah, I'm cool with that.” Mei says, nodding.

“Yeah, I'm okay with that, so long as I don't gotta walk far to use the washroom.” You bring up – if there is one thing you can't compromise, it's that you're not about to do a mini trek to find a sanitary place to pee. With everyone in agreement, you all pile back into the car and begin to make your way to the area. The drive leads you deeper into the forest, the road winding as you pass by many other fellow campers until they grow sparser in between the trees. As you go, more and more you see that some of their leaves have begun to yellow and redden with the changing of the seasons, creating beautiful gradients that make for a picturesque landscape. Eventually, you get a glimpse blue waters and the small road you're on opens to a wide shoreline that leads out to a vast lake.

“We are finally here!” Soohee exclaims excitedly as she pulls the car to a park just off to the side of the entrance. The sound of gently lapping waves greet you when you step out and you feel the cool breeze carry the scent of fresh waters to your nose. The ripples on the water's surface move like sequins reflecting in the sun that it's almost blinding. Off to the side, you spot a little pier leading off into deeper water where you can tie canoes or dive off of. Closer to the shores was what you assume is some kind of storage shed (at least, that's what you hope, the size and shape of it looks too similar to an outhouse. Speaking of....did you even see a washroom on the way?)

“Okay are y'all done taking your obligatory Instagram pics? We need to set up our tents or else we won't have a place to sleep!” Jess says, already popping the trunk open and unloading the big bags that contain the tents. Her comment snaps you out of your daze as you walk over to give your friends a hand. You spend a good time debating about where to set up, how to set up and just the general placement of where you'll put the things you brought. Since there's the four of you, it'll be two to a tent, and the decision on who's rooming with who goes way smoother by comparison.

Luckily you finish settling way before the sun goes down so now, everyone is eager to take their first dip in the lake.

“Did anyone not see a washroom?” You ask, a little concerned. You walk a few steps down towards the crystal clear waters, craning your neck down one side of the shoreline to the other in hopes of spotting something of the like. Instead, what you see is another car just coming to a park. As you watch, you see around four people getting out, beginning to unload their things as well too. Guess you'll have camp neighbours after all.

“Huh, looks like we got company.” Mei remarks over your shoulder as she passes by, heading the opposite way of the newcomers.

“Guess so.” You reply back, falling into steps with her.

“Darn, and here I was actually hoping to have the whole lake to ourselves. Anyways, I think there should be a washroom down this way – we can change there.”

You both walk a few metres down the road until you spot a lone brick building, a path branching off to lead into it. Mei was right in her assumptions; the washroom was located here, along with a small sand pit playground and a few picnic benches.There's not much else, other than a trail that leads off elsewhere into a deeper part of the forest beside it, most likely to be used for hiking.

To your relief, the washroom is at least clean and basic; three sinks, each with a mirror, and three stalls in an all grey concrete interior. You and Mei each take a stall, quickly changing out of your comfy clothes for the long ride to some swimwear before starting your walk back.

“Oh dude, is that a bug bite already?” You hear Mei ask. Looking over, you catch her staring fixedly at a point on your neck. You try to swivel your head so that you can see what she's talking about and despite the awkward angle, the reddish discoloured patch on your collar sticks out like a sore thumb beneath the loose t-shirt you've thrown over your swim top. Except what your friend doesn't know is that this was a completely different kind of bite.

Your face can't help but to flush with heat, even when you try to casually cover up such an incriminating mark. “Ah! R-Really!? I didn't even feel anything! W-What the hell?!” You throw a hand up as if to scratch at it to make it convincing too. Mei scolds you and you inwardly sigh in relief for dodging that bullet. As you're approaching the lake again, you're greeted by the scene of Soohee pushing Jess right off the edge of the pier, her shriek cut short the moment she hits the water with a big splash, followed by Soohee's unmistakable cackle. But what surprises you is the sound of a more masculine laugh joining in.

On closer inspection, you spy the new group of people that arrived not too long ago, also going for a nice swim and.... talking to your other two friends?

Oh?

Since when did this happen?

“Wow, didn't even wait up for us huh?” Mei says loudly, directing the question to your friends as you both got to the shoreline. This of course, gets the attention of everyone, including your would-be neighbours. From here, you can now distinguish their faces clearly. They're four guys, roughly the same age as your own friend group by the looks of it. One was quite tall with blond hair, wading around in the shallow end with his friend, a brunette who's about a head shorter. The third one was closest to where Jess resurfaces with a splutter, bright red hair bobbing like a buoy in the much deeper parts along with the last of the quartet, looking like he could definitely be a K-pop idol, hair dyed a dark magenta with black roots peeking through.

“Not my fault you were taking too long!” Soohee yells back good-naturedly.

“Have to say, it might be our bad – your friend looked like she really wanted the stake her claims on the lake before we did.” The magenta haired one interjects, chuckling as he swims back towards where you and Mei were, standing once it was shallow enough and with a wave and beaming smile, he introduces himself. “I'm Daniel by the way. The blond one is Henri, standing beside him is Michael, and the red head over there is Frederic or Freddy as we like to call him.”

“Hey!” Frederic or 'Freddy' exclaims indignantly. “What did I say about calling me that?!”

“Don't mind him.” Daniel grins, completely ignoring his friend. Honestly, you're not entirely sure what to make of these guys, already awkward enough when it comes to meeting new people so you could only nod your head hesitantly in response. Subtly, you look to Mei expecting for some help but find that she's completely smitten by Daniel, mouth slightly agape and staring a little too intensely at the way the droplets of water are running down his built tan chest. Looks like her qualms about having to share the lake have entirely disappeared too.

In the end, you do the saving and nudge Mei out of her heart eyes stupor. She introduces the both of you, cheeks coloured pink but Daniel either doesn't notice or chooses not to say anything, the amicable grin still on his face as he invites you to finally get your share of the lake. You're not much of a swimmer, choosing to wade around the shallow end just to cool down from the blaring sun until you get roped into a water fight started by Frederic. At this point, it seems like the rest of your friends got on well with the guys and they in turn.

You can already tell Daniel and Frederic to be more of the social butterflies though, them making a noticeable more effort to even talk to you despite how you're more inclined to taking to the sidelines. The other two, Henri and Michael, would only comment here and there whenever the other two would speak but still have a friendly air to them.

By the time the sun started to set, there's been a silent agreement that you all would cook dinner together, sharing the contents of your coolers, portable cookers and apparently speaker (thankfully no one else had showed up at your little lake to make a noise complaint). The easy atmosphere continues as night rolls in with everyone sitting around the small bonfire you made, and a couple of beers in, you find yourself loosening up a bit while your friends get more talkative. During your many conversations, you somehow end up on the topic of the supernaturals.

“Okay, okay. We have to tell ghost stories now; we are camping after all.” Frederic points out. The statement instantly gets a reaction out of everyone.

“Aw no, c'mon!””

“Dude can't we just sing campfire songs?”

“None of us play guitar here Daniel....”

“Eugh, do we have to?” Soohee groans, “Like we're really gonna do that to ourselves?”

You snort, agreeing with Soohee but more so for an entirely different reason rather than her fears. You'd rather stay out of messing with any other sorts of demons or spirits; you already have your hands full with just one.

“You do know we're literally staying in what's considered a haunted landmark right?” Michael almost deadpans.

Well, that's certainly news to you. Everyone's confused eyes zero in on the brunette, who only shrugs innocently before taking a sip from his can.

“I thought you all knew.”

“Uhhh no?” Mei says, a little alarmed. “Since when? And surely it can't be the whole camp ground?”

Daniel lets out an 'ah', as if remembering something. “I mean I did read something about the origins of Blackwood Creek. There was only some that mention about the spooky bits, but otherwise it's mostly about how it's founded by Native Americans.”

“What kind of 'spooky bits' are we talking about?” Jess asks apprehensively. You almost find it a little funny at how scared all of your friends are at the mention of some ghouls that might be lurking in the woods. You would've been on the same boat really, but now your main concerns are, in your opinion, way more threatening than some vengeful spirits; bears.

God, you hope there's no bears....or poisonous snakes. Your half tipsy mind takes you through a completely different thought topic than the one that's currently going on, so you only catch snippets of the stories the other guys are sharing.

“There's an area surrounding an old elm tree where people kept being reported as missing whenever they went on the trail; said there's a witch who was hung there and cursed the land so that anyone who stumbled into her territory would be spirited away. That's why that one section of the hiking path is blocked off from visitors now.” You hear Henri say.

“Oh! That's the one I heard. Like really straight up Blairwitch projects.” Frederic interjects.

“Really? The story I heard was that Blackwood Creek is one huge Native burial ground, and the years of conflict and bad blood being spilt over this land was what woke an evil spirit. People say it's the cause of some unexplained events that's happened around here; giant animal footprints, bear carcasses showing up in the middle of the woods, and vanishings.”

Daniel's voice has a more theatrical flare to it that you had to hold yourself back from grimacing. Damn, as if you're not already uneasy about camping, now you find out that this might also be stolen land? (Of course it would be, you shouldn't really be surprised).

Right at that moment, something brushes against your arm and the sudden sensation startles you into letting out a yelp, arms flailing. It causes a chain reaction as your yelp then startles Mei sitting beside you who lets out a shrill shout, which then makes Jess jump out of her seat while Soohee just looks like a deer caught in headlights, frozen in her seat.

You vaguely hear a loud snort, followed by boisterous laughter across from you but you don't need to look to know who's having a great time from all of this.

“You girls okay? Didn't think you're all this faint hearted.” Michael tries to say sincerely around a wide grin.

“Why'd you even yell like that for Y/N?! You scared the shit out of me!” Mei whines to you, to which you throw up your hands defensively.

“It felt like something was crawling on me okay?! I don't do bugs!”

“Oh man, do I got news for you....”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” You answer dryly in response to Henri's sarcasm, at the same time, you take this as your cue to turn in for the night – you actually want to preserve this post-tipsy drowsiness you're feeling just so you can sleep like the dead, otherwise knowing you, you're going to be too anxious about moths flying into your mouth to even consider shutting your eyes. That scare just now nearly has you sober.

“Alright, I think I'm just gonna head to bed now. You all enjoy your ghost stories.” You stand, finishing the rest of your drink before tossing the can into the black garbage bag and begin to walk off back to your tent site.

“W-Wait, I'm coming too!” You hear Mei call out to you.

“Actually, Y/N's right. We gotta get up early tomorrow if we wanna go check out the sights around here.” Soohee agrees, getting up as well. It prompts Jess to do the same, nodding as your friends begin to tidy up their area but was stopped by Daniel.

“Nah, nah you guys go ahead and turn in. We can clean up here.”

“You sure? Half the mess is ours.” You point out midway throwing away other scraps of garbage into the bag.

“Positive. There's nothing much left anyways. Just gotta put out the fire and then haul the trash to the compost bin.” Frederic reassures. After more insisting going around, they finally shoo you and your friends off to go wash up.

Now by yourselves in the washroom, Mei finally can't contain herself any longer.

“Oh my god, what are the chances of camping with a bunch of cute guys?” She squeals gleefully to no one in particular, eyes practically sparkling even in the dimness of the fluorescent lights.

“They're okay, but Daniel? Whew.” Jess fans herself, swooning a little. “Now him I can agree.”

“Hey no fair! Can you let me have this one for once?” Mei pouts.

“Girls, it's only right to play fair. Why don't we ask them tomorrow if they're down to do some hiking or exploring with us? That way you can both see who's got game or not.” Soohee suggests playfully.

“Alright fine.”

“Don't be a sore loser when I end up gettin' the boy.”

“As if!”

You could only smile wryly at your friends' antics, going through the motion of finishing up your skin routine, stifling a yawn as you put everything back into your small toiletry bag and wait for them to finish up to walk back together. You bid each other good night, making sure to check thrice that no uninvited critters had moved in while you were away before zipping up the opening and protective netting.

“You think those ghost stories are real?” Mei asks in the middle of rolling out her sleeping bag. “If they're so well-known, how come we haven't heard of it before we came here?”

“I don't know, maybe they're not after all? If they are, I guess you would have to dig through the occult side of the internet to find out; highly doubt a tourist-y hotspot like camp grounds would wanna expose their dark history all over their main page.” You offer, getting ready to settle in. You're basically ready to cocoon yourself, hoodie pulled up over your head, pillow squished as much as it can in the little pocket space and zipper closed almost all the way around so only half your face is visible; lets see moths and mosquitoes try to come after you now.

Mei hums thoughtfully. “Hmm, yeah that makes sense.” Turning to you, she asks wide eyed, “Do you believe in all that stuff? Ghosts and like, demonic possessions?”

You choke on a sharp inhale, coughing but quickly get out in between sputters. “U-Uh! Well! Sorta? K-Kinda? Not like everything though? But just 'cuz I'm skeptical doesn't mean I'd go messing around with that kinda shit, I don't want anything to follow me.”

Somewhere in a board meeting in Hell, Jimin sneezes.

“Anyways, we should sleep. It's late.” You follow up in hopes of ending the topic of that conversation and thankfully, Mei agrees. Once she finds a comfortable position, she turns to switch off the portable lamp placed between you two. “In any case, if you need a toilet buddy, don't be shy to wake me up okay? Good night!”

“Mmm, night.” You mumble, snuggling deeper into your bed and halfway in dreamland already.

Some point during the night however, you're rudely roused into consciousness by the worse thing possible – your bladder.

It seems now your body wants to rid of all the liquid you've ingested in one go and giving you no chances to will yourself to go back to sleep and ignore it till morning. With a deep exasperated inhale, you almost roll your eyes open. You vaguely make out the shape of Mei sleeping soundly next to you, her soft snores drifting quietly amidst the sounds of crickets chirping. Not wanting to wake her from her deep slumber, you slowly shimmy out of your sleeping bag to grab your phone and slip on your shoes before making your way over to unzip the tent flap. It was a gruelling process, the sound of the zipper coming undone louder than it should be to your ears but you get out through a small opening successfully without waking your friend.

Stepping outside, you realize you've worked up a sweat from having bundled yourself up so tightly that the cool night air that greets you felt refreshing. The moon is bright out, full and glowing with a warm orange tinge to it. It makes you stop to admire the way it reflects over the surface of the lake, the pale gold light dancing on the water mimics that of the sun, awed by how it seems much bigger and how you can see the dark patches on its surface so clearly. You switch your phone screen to the camera, snapping a few pictures until your satisfied before taking in the atmosphere; the quiet ambiance of the forest sounds mixed in with the faint lapping of waves against the sand made everything peaceful.

“Y/N...”

The whisper suddenly comes as if out of thin air, right next to your ear and you swear you jump five feet back, heart racing up to your throat and bladder on the verge of bursting. It's once you whip your head around do you see a head of magenta that's as bright as the moon itself.

“Daniel!” You whisper shout, hand on your chest. “What the fuck! Why'd you have to sneak up on me like that!?”

“I swore you'd heard me coming but you zoned out hard.” He replies back with a shrug. “Whatchu doing up anyways? Thought you'd be out cold with the way you were so set on turning in for the night.”

“I was just on my way to the washrooms.” You gesture over your shoulder after calming down, turning to get back on track with your purpose before you risk wetting yourself – that scare earlier had you way too close to doing that.

“Oh cool, I'll walk you then.”

“Um, you don't have to....”

You say that but he's already heading off in that direction so you have no choice but to tail after him.

“What do you mean 'I don't have to?' You know it's not smart to be wandering around in the woods in the middle of the night by yourself. Who knows what spooky things might getcha.” The last part he leans in closer to say a bit more teasingly.

“If you mean bears then yes, I'm actually a little afraid of running into one as I'm on my way to taking a piss.” You scoff, crossing your arms and overtake Daniel's long strides. It's not a lie when at this point, you really gotta go. Daniel chuckles from behind, keeping his easy-going pace with his hands tucked into his pockets, watching you.

There's a prickling sensation that runs up the back of your neck, causing goosebumps to erupt. You turn your head to look back, but all you see is Daniel checking his phone. He looks up once he notices that you're looking and simply smiles, tucking it away.

“What's up? Thought you had to go really bad?”

“....Yeah.”

“Kay, well I'mma head on over to the men's then. If I'm not out before you, just wait up and we can walk back together okay?” With that, he passes you and heads straight to the men's washroom, disappearing behind the heavy door with a thump. You stay rooted in your spot for a moment, chewing on your lip but eventually, push the weird feeling to the back of your mind.

One flush later, you're relieved of the choke hold your bladder had on you, stepping back out into the night as you flick away the remnants of water on your hands. Looking around, you don't see Daniel anywhere so you wonder if he's yet to come out of the washroom. You walk out a bit further until you're across the playground, the thought crossing your mind to wait on one of the swings. Up close, you see just how rusted the chains are and now you wonder if it'll even be able to support your weight. You test it by pushing your weight down on the seat – it lets out a loud protesting creak.

Yeah, probably not.

Something rustles through the leaves then, catching your attention instantly. Whipping your eyes to the direction you heard it coming from, you feel every one of your nerves tense but no matter how hard you look, you don't see anything within the dark shadows. Still, you dare not let out the breath you're holding just yet.

“Y/N....”

You whip your head around, ready to berate Daniel for using the same trick to sneak up on you again. Unfortunately, he beats you to the punch.

Quite literally.

The last thing you remember was a sharp pain that explodes from the left side of your temple and your vision immediately going black.

The next time you're pulled back into consciousness, you have a splitting headache that makes opening your eyes difficult without being nauseous. Not to mention a ringing in your ear that seems to last an eternity on top of that, so you just keep them close for now while taking deep breaths and wait for the feeling to pass. Once it dies down however, you begin to make out muffled voices, indistinguishable at first before they gradually become clearer.

“... – hard enough as is, and you nearly blew my fuckin' cover.”

“Shut up, you're the one who changed the plans on us last minute.”

“Yeah because you're a pussy who wanted to 'play it safe'.”

“Can you just both shut up and do something useful?”

You have no idea what's going on but you'd have to agree with whoever said that because their bickering is doing nothing for your pounding head, a quiet groan slipping from the back of your throat unintentionally and when you try to reach a hand up to soothe the pain, you find that they're stuck. What the fuck?

“I think she's starting to wake up.”

There's a set of footsteps approaching you, the sound of trampled leaves getting louder until they stop right in front of you and you feel a presence of another person. Slowly, you peel your eyes open and though you had to blink a couple of times to focus, you still recognize that stupid bright fucking head of magenta through the blur, squatting down in front of you.

“Hey....Hello there....” He speaks softly to you, almost cooing at you as he gently rights your head so that it's not resting so lopsidedly. It doesn't stop you from wincing, the cramps in your neck have long since settled in. When he's sure that you've become fully aware and alert, his lips pull back into a sickeningly saccharine smile. “Welcome back, sweet thing.”

Your eyes immediately narrow into a glare and you go to tell him off, only to get a mouthful of cloth instead. Daniel notices your belated realization too, but continues to smile and speak to you amicably, “I know this is a lot to ask of you since we only just really met and all, but I need you to be a good girl and not try anything funny because I don't wanna have to hurt you more than I should, okay?”

Your racing heart has your chest slightly heaving but despite that, you're surprisingly calm; perhaps a part of you stubbornly refuses to let Daniel intimidate you or you're not quite all there yet. Seeing how unexpectedly composed you are, scowl showing no signs of softening any time soon, Daniel's eyebrow quirks and his smile shifts into a smirk, clearly amused.

Turning to shout over his shoulder, Daniel calls, “We got a feisty one boys.”

“Great.”

“That's either gonna make this harder or easier for us.”

“Okay cool, now can you just get your ass over here and help?”

“I am helping.” Daniel replies matter of factly, turning his attention back to you. “I'm making sure the guest of honour is comfortable.” A sudden light nearly blinds you and you turn your head away, squinting your eyes. It takes you a moment to figure out that the harsh light was coming from the flashlight Daniel was holding. He gives you a once over with it before inhaling through his teeth, grimacing as he reaches up towards your temple. “That's gotta hurt....”

A stinging pain comes from when his finger prods at it, causing you to flinch away. Scrunching your face, you finally notice the stickiness clinging to the skin there, the itchiness from it reaching as far down as the side of your cheek.

“Yeah, didn't mean to swing at you that hard but, you know, adrenaline and all that shit.” He chuckles like he didn't just clobber you with a brick (you don't know if it's a brick or the flashlight he has, but it might as well be). “Also you can thank Frederic for the ropes, just a little safety precaution – can't have you wandering around on your own at night right?”

“Daniel! We're done over here so any year now.” You hear Frederic call.

“Oops, and that would be our cue.” Daniel stands then, finally allowing you to have a good look at your surroundings, and what you see makes your stomach drop. You have no idea what part of the camp grounds you're in, or if this is still even in the camp grounds at all. It looks like you're in a clearing, seemingly smack dab in the middle of the woods with overgrown roots, dead leaves and dry patches of grass; not exactly an ideal spot to entice any campers. Surrounding you from all sides are thick trees, whatever moonlight seeping through their dense foliage creates an eerie backlit glow, but otherwise further beyond there is only darkness.

The only area well-lit enough is the one you and your captors are in, thanks to a series of large candles they've placed to form what looks like a circle some feet away from you and the barren branches of the large tree you're sitting under, offering you an unobstructed view of the orange-tinted moon.....

Ah –

A chill runs through you then, the same time a switch goes off in your head. Whipping your gaze upwards, you take in the full sight of the tree. The trunk is thick, a testament to its old age, with long crooked branches, stretching out like sharp, boney hands. There's one in particular that hangs conveniently above the centre of the encirclement, low enough that someone who's at least two heads taller than you could reach with a good jump, and ominously hanging from that....was another line of rope.

Your body freezes as your mind races, faint memories about a story of an old elm tree, hanged witches, and cursed lands flashing before you, and given where you are, it all adds up to be too much of a coincident for it not to be what the fuck you think this is.

“Alright, up we go.” Daniel takes a firm hold under your arm and hauls you up easily, beginning to drag you towards where the other guys are waiting in the inner circle of the candles. The first wave of panic finally hits you like a freight train, your limbs shaking with the cold sweat taking over as you squirm with all your might, your protests muffled from the gag.

“Oh c'mon Y/N, don't be a spoil sport now.” Daniel chastises, pulling on you hard so that you don't break free from his grasp. “You're the main star of the show tonight!”

You frantically shake your head, digging your heels into the dirt in hopes you would be able to stall for time to figure out what they're planning. You need to keep a clear head, you tell yourself desperately, you have to or else you'll truly be helpless to do anything, too blinded by the fear. Right now, this is the only fighting chance you got. If you let it slip, it'll be too late.

“Yeah Y/N, look at it this way,” Frederic starts, coming over to help Daniel drag you the rest of the way until you're standing right in the middle of the lit circle. “It's quite simple really.” He grunts, doing a short jump in order to reach the extra rope dangling from the branch above you. “We're just a bunch of guys with some pretty big ambitions.”

Daniel shoves you forward so that Frederic can grab your bound wrists in order to tether you to the cord. You hate that a part of you lets out a small breath of relief at seeing that you weren't going to have it tied around.... some other part of your body. Once he's sure you're secured does Daniel back off, and just when you think you're rid of one less problem, you're hit with another, bigger predicament because the only reason why he's not breathing down your neck anymore is so he could tug on the other end of the rope you're attached to. Instantly, your arms are hoisted above your head and you're left barely able to balance on the tips of your toes.  

“Unfortunately, those big ambitions require equally bigger means to achieve.” Frederic continues over the sounds of your struggling. You try not to tug too much on it but it seems there's no way to avoid having the rope dig into your skin, leaving you to bite down on the pain.

“Yeah, do you know how hard it is to make it past even the first audition to become a trainee?” Daniel butts in almost indignantly, shining the flashlight in your face again, much to your chagrin. “The system's rigged as fuck.”

“Yeah, yeah we heard it all before already. Geez...” Michael practically rolls his eyes as he says. “You're not the only one here with problems.”

“Point is, you could say we're just 'levelling the playing field.'” Frederic concludes, turning to you. “And you're gonna help us.”

So they're gonna offer me as sacrifice to sell their soul to Satan for it?! What happened to doing it the old fashion way?! You wanted to scream, but right now you need to focus your energy on your surroundings. Your eyes dart around the ground for any of those tell-tale marks, something that would give you any hints as to what sorts of things would entail in this ritual they're trying to attempt. You find nothing from your precarious position, other than those ominously flickering candles.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Henri pulling out what looks to be a large leather bound book – its old, beaten and worn out state something even you could see in this dim lighting. You can't make out the text on the cover but once he opens it, you see the yellowing pages are scrawled with symbols and words in what looked like black ink. You're not sure if it's because of the way it looks, but at a glance you admit it the aged book could've had you fooled for being something legit. You don't get the chance to further try and confirm those suspicions as something else catches your attention; the cold glint of a hunting knife.

The blood drains from your face, each breath becomes more difficult, the pressure on your chest growing and your limbs becoming numb from both the fear and prolonged strain.

“Alright boys,” Frederic says, twirling the knife in hand, “Remember, we say the prayer and then we each take a turn stabbing her and then I write my name in the book with her blood.”

“Wait, why do you get to go first? I was the one who brought her.” Daniel argues.

“But who's the one who found the book first huh? You know how hard it was to get my hands on this?”

“Would you both quit bitching about it? We all each need to spill the blood of the innocence anyways.” Michael interjects, “And luckily, she has friends.”

The statement effectively puts their bickering to rest, but to you it was a slap to the face, a rude awakening. This changes everything; now it's not just a matter of your life on the line, it's also your friends' because if you don't survive this, then they'll be their next victims. You can't let that happen.

You won't.

The need to protect your friends overpowers the numbing fear, along with a burning hot anger; anger from being deceived, hurt and targeted by a bunch of selfish, heartless people who would go as far as to commit murder, while knowing nothing of the dark magic they're meddling with.

Perhaps it was lucky that it had been you they got, because had it not been, it just would've been some other poor unfortunate soul; someone who wouldn't have had a chance of surviving this at all. The cogs in your head starts turning quickly and a plan begins to take shape.

If it's a demon they want, then a demon they will get.

“Let's start then.” Henri says, and the others gather around him, forming a semi-circle facing you. You're directly across from Henri who's holding the book open to two pages that had a pentagram drawn on them, the black lines looking more like drying blood seeping into the paper now than it did ink. The rest all hold out a hand, hovering over the book before they start to chant in unison.

“In the darkest of hours, we call to you. With the blood of the innocence – ”

Their words drown out over the noise of your own heartbeat as you viciously try to tear away the cloth around your mouth by using any means, and after gnashing your teeth until they ache and scraping your face against the crook of your arm to the point your cheek is inflamed, it miraculously slips down enough for you to be able to cry out.

“W-Wait! Stop! You can't – IT WON'T WORK!!”

Suddenly, there are four pair of eyes upon you. You don't quite know what compelled you to blurt out those words in particular but you're thankful enough that it manages to catch their attention, interrupting them from completing the 'prayer'. Henri is the first to snap out of his shock.

“Who the fuck was in charge of tying her up?”

“Piss off.”

“Well go fix it jackass!”

“Wait! No I'm serious, the ritual won't work!” You insist, unintentionally tugging at your bindings in your fervour. You feel the rope cutting into your wrist again but the adrenaline sparked in you made it seem nonexistent. You have to convince them to go along with you for your plan to work, however a huge chunk of it is depending on whether you can spin a good enough lie. Problem is, you don't quite have a solid story put together yet. There's no time though, you've taken the bull by the horns and now you gotta roll with the punches.

Guess it's time to regurgitate all the stuff you briefly read on demons and satanic rituals that one time.

“The moon isn't right.” You start, “You're not likely to summon Lucifer with this moon, it has to be a blood moon for it to work.”

There's a beat of silence that passes between all of you, and within those moments of what felt like an eternity, you hold your breath, waiting. Daniel looks to Henri, who looks to Michael, the other two are quiet in thought. It's after a moment, Frederic retorts defensively, “It's a harvest moon, it's still enough to act as a strong medium to channel dark magic. Besides, why should we believe in anything you say? Not like you know anything about stuff like this.”

You actually scoff out loud without really meaning to, but how can you not? The irony of it all is just too much to handle. Luckily, it seems like your little slip works to your advantage; it seems like the boys mistook it for confidence, so you play into it.

“Then you should also know that a harvest moon is more associated to paganism and Wicca, so unless you're trying to make a deal with some witch, you're not going to summon any sort of spawn from Hell, let alone Lucifer himself to grant you your wishes.”

Daniel's gaze shifts questioningly again to his friends while Frederic grits his teeth, looking more and more frustrated. You're not sure if it's because he's annoyed at you running your mouth, or that he's actually beginning to self-doubt.

In a move you think no one had anticipated, he breaks away from the group, marching up to you, knife brandished in a deathly grip aimed towards you. You instinctively try to step back, forgetting that you're still tied in place and so all your feet does is slip against the ground with nowhere to go. Your heart lurches, a single name lodged into your throat –

“How bout you fuckin' prove it then you little bitch?!” Frederic demands, gripping your shirt to hold you in place, the knife dangerously pressed close to your neck. There's an uproar of shouts and shuffling that erupts from behind you, the rest of the boys frantically trying to calm their friend.

“Woah woah woah! Dude! Chill out!”

“Yo what the fuck!”

“Frederic, relax!”

“She's fucking with us! Why else would she be telling us this?! We should just gut her now and get this over with!”

“I swear I'm not! I'm telling you because you're just screwing yourself over if you do this!! I know because – !!” You gasp, words fumbling in a panic before you spit out, “I-I've seen it done before!”

The statement seems to resonate in the small clearing, everyone coming to a complete stop in what they were doing. It's Daniel who makes the first move, carefully placing a firm hand on Frederic's and you sigh when the blade eases from your neck.

“Alright, before we go stabbing anyone just yet, why don't we let Y/N elaborate on this?” You see Frederic begin to open his mouth, probably to retort again but Daniel cuts him off, “C'mon Freddy, it won't hurt us, we're already in too deep to back out on this anyways. We can let her speak now, and then she can forever hold her peace.” With that, the knife comes away completely and you're in the green once more.

Once Daniel is sure that Frederic doesn't get itchy fingers again, he turns to you, arms crossed condescendingly and expectant. “Well? Go on then, what words of 'wisdom' do you have to impart on us Y/N?”

You don't like that you have to thank Daniel for throwing you this bone, but you suppose beggars can't be choosers at this point. By way of saying they're 'already in too deep to back out anyways', it means that no matter what you say here, they intend to kill you. So for him to even give you this chance, he's clearly curious and cocky enough to want to humour you.

Pride really isn't a sin without reason.

You lick your dry lips, steadying your breath in order to maintain a sense conviction in your voice, “It's already hard enough summoning a demon, because a vital part of the ritual is knowing their true name – it's the key to having control over them, and more likely for you to have a chance to strike a deal. Reason why so many attempts at rituals fail is because people don't realize how much you actually need to do in order to summon Lucifer himself.”

The silence that follows is so heavy that you can feel the weight of it pressing down your shoulders. It makes you tense up and you race to continue furthering your line of reason, “I mean, it makes sense doesn't it? Lucifer, who's already so powerful with how many souls he's collected, why would he bother to come collect some that aren't any way special?”

Swallowing, you take the chance to do a once over on the group. You can't deny that you're genuinely anxious and nervous, very hyper aware that this is still very much a volatile situation. Which is why when you see the look of subtle agreement pass over their faces, you felt a little more reassured. So far so good.

“What usually ends up happening is you attract an unknown demon or some sort of demonic entity with no means of controlling it. It'll attach itself to you and slowly feed off of your soul without you even knowing until you just end up dying a sudden death. At least, that's what I suspect happened...to that girl I saw attempting the ritual.”

“So what exactly did you see?” Michael asks, narrowing his eyes and you know that your next words are going to be judged. You hope your hesitation passes off as something more along the lines of 'a memory you don't want to recall' rather than quietly scrambling to put together a mildly believable tale.

“It was....It was like, two years ago? Maybe longer? At a Halloween party me and a friend went to. The host wasn't someone we were close with....like, a friend of a friend kinda thing. And you know a Halloween party isn't one without someone trying to contact the dead.”

“Also booze, lots and lots of booze.” Daniel had to add. It takes a lot to refrain from rolling your eyes. Luckily, Henri does it for you.

“Yes,” You continued, deadpan. “Lots of booze. Except all that booze made some people think a ouija board is beneath them; they had to up the stakes, and one thing led to another and before you know it, you got a band of...half-drunk people heading off into the night to try their luck at summoning a demon.”

Henri raises a brow dubiously at that. “And you were a part of it?”

“W-Well....no, not exactly....” You reply, “I was more or less dragged along because, my friend – you know, being the one to easily worry – she needed to make sure no one got hurt, or arrested – whatever. So we followed and just ended up watching on the side lines. We honestly didn't think anything serious would come out of it. But,” You shake your head, as if trying to find the best way to describe what you had 'witnessed', “as soon as that girl – god I can't even remember her name; Molly? Mary? – she was reading something and.... Well, it looked like nothing happened after, but I remember it got so cold and then I saw something looming over her..... following her.”

“Like a ghost?”

“No....It was bigger, like a shadow but....” You struggle, because you really are, and all you can think of is, please don't ask for the details, please don't ask for the details. “It's later that I get told she passed away, like...not even three weeks after the party? I heard no one knew the cause, but I just had this feeling that it had to do something with that day. So I got curious, did a little digging and......that's how I found out about things.” And as an afterthought, you add, “Things that maybe I, or anyone, shouldn't have.”

The last line was a bait; the only thing you need from them is to agree to doing your version of the 'ritual' and as it hangs in the air, you begin to see the fruits of your labour. Daniel is mildly intrigued, Michael and Henri are a bit more on the baffled side, while Frederic....

He's chewing his lip worriedly, deep in thought before seemingly making up his mind. He fixes you with a hard stare, and his question sounded more like a demand. “What did you find?”

“Only what I've just told you....” You reply, and steeling yourself, you meet his gaze unwaveringly. “...And a name.”

Frederic inhales sharply, jaw clenched and his grip on the hilt tightens. Suddenly the air grows a lot more serious, even Daniel's face turns rigid from his usual sneer. You watch as each of them exchange glances, and after a silent agreement, Frederic turns back to you.

Eyes hardening, he says to you in a low, threatening voice, “You're lucky there's no signal out here, or we would've seen if you were really telling the truth or not. So here's what we're gonna do instead.” Once again, he takes the knife and points it to you, the blade gleaming menacingly against the moonlight. “You're gonna tell us how to summon the demon you found, and if it turns out you're lying.....We'll slit your throat and do it our way.”

It's the way he looks at you; cold, void of any sort of remorse, like you're nothing more than a means to an end goal. It's the complete one-eighty from the first time you've met him, met any of them. It's at this moment, you realize how truly frightening the human nature can be.

But you have an end goal here too, and that is to put a stop to this.

“I'll tell you, on one condition. Please,” You pause, taking in a shaky breath and despite the cool air the night offers, your skin feels damp and clammy, “please spare my friends. Leave them out of this.”

Frederic scoffs, using the flat end of the blade to tip your chin higher. “That all depends whether this will work or not, so you better pray it does.”

You shouldn't be surprised that that's your final answer. With not much left to do, you decided to get this shitshow on the road. “...Got any salt on you?”

If there were any doubts lingering in the guys before, it certainly went away the moment you had them write down the name they're meant to say (thank god for that you suppose, because you really wouldn't know what to do if they didn't believe an actual demon name you're giving them). That aside, you had made them keep the original 'prayer' because 1) you can't be bothered to change it and 2) it didn't really matter anyways. The set up was the same, with the only difference being – at your advice – a ring of salt drawn big enough to hold both you and a potential second entity in it within the circle of candles.

“Remember, it's important you call out his name at the right times, and you need to say it once for each person.” You say.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can we just get on with it?” Standing just outside the salt circle, the rest of the guys are positioned on points where a pentagram would've been, with you at the head. Inhaling through your nose heavily, you push down your annoyance and close your eyes, focusing your energy. Now that it's happening, you think this would be the first time you've tried calling out to Jimin this way.

Let's see how well it works.

Henri picks up the book again, opens it to the page and once more, the prayer begins.

“In the darkest of hours, we call to you.

With the blood of the innocence, we offer to you

A path unto earth, and with thy power may we survive the night.

O one whom all is set aflame, we call to you,

Rhaemaris.”

A chill runs down your spine, the same time something in the air changes. Like a creature being called forth, a heavy fog crawls forward from beyond the edges of the forest, slowly clawing its way towards you until the ground is blanketed by its mass.

“O wretched soul, we call to you,

Rhaemaris.”

You shudder as you begin to hear whispers, disembodied voices ringing in your ears and you wonder if it's just you, but still, you dare not open your eyes yet.

“O one who walks the path of darkness, we call to you,

Rhaemaris.”

The sky suddenly darkens, the moon swallowed by the thick clouds rolling in, and the only lights you have left are the candles which surrounds you.

“Let our desires be true, as our intent malicious.”

Let us join hands, we call to you,

Rhaemaris!”

Your own whisper of his name is drowned out by the voices of the others, and though they might've not heard you, you're hoping that someone else did. As if to answer your silent plea, a gust of wind rushes through, carrying up wisps of fog with it and threatening to blow out all the candles in one go, their flames flickering dangerously down to the wicks when –

“What the fuck?!”

Daniel's alarmed cry finally makes you snap your eyes open because the sheer panic from it was quite serious. And perhaps he had every right to be, from his point of view.

Because it's not every day that the flames of a candle all turn pitch black in a blink of an eye. What was also frightening was the fog around you had begun to condense in front of you, swirling into a vortex until it didn't look like fog anymore, but a thick black smoke with sparks of embers flying and the smell of sulphur burning your nose. Your eyes water from it, and you try your best to shield your face away from this growing heat that seems to press right up against you.

Through squinted eyes and dishevelled hair, you finally see something emerge from within the chaos that makes you slump, all the tension leaving you.

Black Chelsea boots.

As quick as the winds had picked up, they vanish without a trace along with the eerie light of the candles, plunging the area into complete darkness. You already can't see past the black smog that has yet to settle, seemingly rippling and billowing with a mind of its own around his figure but you can clearly see the slight confusion on his face and that alone makes you crack the first smile all night, a quiet laugh exhaling tiredly from your lips. The sound immediately catches his attention, his head quirking towards your direction.

“Cherub?” It's gentle, and so soft you could mistaken it as just your imagination. You want to hum back in reply but you're rudely cut off by the voice of another.

“Demon! We have summoned you!” Frederic shouts.

You strain your neck to see where it is that the quartet had fled to when shit started to hit the fan and manage to spot a mop of red and magenta hair a fair distance behind where Jimin was standing. On closer inspection, it would appear that they're just beyond the salt circle you've asked them to draw around you. It takes a lot to hold back the laugh that wants to escape from your lips; cowardly enough to hide behind some superstitions, but ballsy enough to stay.

“Summoned?” You hear Jimin hiss. He whips his head away from you if only briefly, as if highly offended by the notion. You don't see what the others do, but when Jimin pins his gaze on them, they visibly flinch back. Under the pressure of his scrutiny, Michael blurts out, speaking quickly in a way that you think he's trying to conceal his fears.

“We've summoned you to make a deal, and in exchange for the sacrifice we give, we ask you grant our wishes.”

A heavy silence follows with no one daring to move. Jimin lets the words sink in and slowly, he turns back towards you. Face-to-face, you finally take in his appearance of immaculate raven dark hair, and the pristine black on black suit he dons. You have the mind to wonder if you had summoned him in the middle of a meeting or board presentation of sorts, and the image tickles you ever so slightly. No wonder he looked so confused. Trails of the black smoke follows Jimin when he takes a step closer to you, close enough until you can smell the comforting scent of burnt cedar wood and spices.

There's an underlying glow to his irises, red and vibrant but unlike most people, it doesn't frighten you in the slightest. To you, they're as warm as a fire burning in a hearth and as beautiful as precious rubies. Those eyes carefully take in your features, a worry crease forming in between his brows and you want to so badly to reach up to smoothen them out, if only you weren't still bound. He seems to notice too, and his jaw stiffens, clenched so hard you fear he might crack a bone or two. Jimin reaches up a hand, cupping the cheek that's still stained with your dried blood. The moment he touches, you can almost feel the boiling heat of anger emanating from his body, the whites of his sclera gone as his fingers lightly trail over the head wound.

Subtly, you lean into his palm, eyes hoping to convey that although a bit battered and shaken up, you're not in any life threatening danger, at least not anymore now that he's here. He softens enough to let you know he understands, but it does little to calm him completely. On a sharp inhale, Jimin's expression blanks, a stoney mask in its place that even has a shiver run down your spine. Withdrawing his hand, he raises it as if to strike you. It comes down too swiftly for you to see but suddenly you find yourself falling, gasping as your arms are cut loose.

Jimin catches you before you face plant, and from how long your arms have been held up, they feel like jelly rather than parts of your body. With no hopes of lifting them any time soon, you easily go limp in his arms. Above you, a chilling laugh rings out in the clearing.

“How quaint....” You hear Jimin sneer. “I must commend you for so boldly dabbling in dark magic like this.” He adjusts you so that you're able to be seated on the ground comfortably. “But my.....what a shame.”

“....W-What....What do you mean?” One of them quivers. With a flick of his wrist, the thick corded ropes break away like shredded ribbons. You wince when you see how chaffed and tender the skin has become. If possible, Jimin's face darkens even further. Before you can console him once more, he turns his full attention back to the group, his tall figure shielding yours.

You think it must be taking him everything he has to not snap, but the deceptively even tone of his voice still barely hides the fury he's holding back. “I'm afraid there won't be any deals to be had tonight.”

That gets Frederic riled up, allowing him to gather his wits momentarily, surprising even you. “That doesn't make sense! We called you here, so you should be answering to us! Rhaemaris!”

Suddenly, Jimin's hands shoot up, engulfed in flames and an oppressive force erupts from him, so powerful that it knocks the wind out of you too but you see that it does more. As if rooted to their place, the four guys are frozen, their figures visibly trembling in a fight to move without success. Horrified, Daniel wheezes out, “I-I c-can't fucking m-move!”

“That name is not yours to command!” Jimin bellows, his words heavily distorting. “And it never was to begin with! My loyalties have already been promised to another.”

“T-Then how a-are you here?! Who summoned you?!” Michael demands.

A slow, insidious grin spreads across plush lips before Jimin takes one decisive step out of the salt ring. You watch, fascinated that it does little to stop him, emitting no more than a spark that fizzles out almost instantly and barely leaving a scuff on his patent shoes. Once he makes show that there's nothing they can do to stop him, Jimin turns in a way that gestures to you, and the shadows that dance across his features make the row of fangs and the blood-red slitted gaze all the more frightening.

“She did.”

Once again, all eyes are on you and you're not quite sure how to break it to bunch of strangers that very much wanted to kill you for their satanic ritual that yeah, plot twist; you have a demon as a boyfriend, and they picked the wrong girl to sacrifice.

So you just wave.

Jimin chuckles, then begins to stalk towards your four pale-faced captors, like a predator that's been set loose. “Now that we've got that out of the way, I'm sure you all know just how important a name is to a demon.”

With each step he takes, the grass beneath his soles singes.

“And I'm sure you know....that it wouldn't be in my best interest to let four, undeserving scums  walk free with that knowledge, right?”

His shadow starts to morph and twist, stretching in a way that it didn't resemble his form anymore, coming alive right before your eyes. The four are reduced to a cowering, helpless mess, no longer able to form any coherent words. Pleased, Jimin's grin stretches wider until it resembled a Cheshire cat.

“I'm glad we're all in agreement.” Then, turning to you, he says sweetly, “Close your eyes darling, and don't open them until you've count to five. I'd rather you not....see something so unsightly.”

You comply because you really don't think you can stomach whatever Jimin has in store for them. You're pretty much on your last leg in terms of how much you can take in one night. Eyes shut, you begin to mentally count.

Five....

A garble of pleading, you can't make sense of them.

Four...

They break abruptly into choked screams, but they don't last, cut short into silence.

Three....

A crunch, like the breaking of bones, and one by one loud wet thumps hit the ground.

Two...

The strong iron stench of blood hits your nose like a truck, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter.

One...

You feel a heatwave wash over you. Faintly, you hear the crackling of flames before it all goes quiet. A soft touch against your cheek has you tentatively opening your eyes and your vision is filled with Jimin's handsome face, coffee brown eyes staring back at you and hardly a speck or hint of the carnage he enacted just now.

“You okay? Are you hurt anywhere else?”

You shake your head. “No....not really. Just – head kinda hurts and my arms feel like they weigh a ton.”

His brows furrow as he brushes away the flyaway hairs on your face. “Why didn't you call for me sooner? That could've been dangerous.”

“....Guess your penchant for the dramatics are rubbing off on me.”

Jimin scoffs, but the corner of his mouth tugs into a smile anyways, not denying it. “You're lucky you're cute, and hopefully you've had your fill in fun this one time around. I don't think I'll be able to tolerate a second time.”

He pulls you into his arms once again, positioning you so that in one swoop, he lifts you up bridal style. You clutch onto the lapels of his jacket, blinking when you get the full view of the clearing. You're surprised to see that there's not a single trace of the guys anywhere.

A pair of soft lips press themselves to your forehead, drawing your attention back up to Jimin, “You must be tired cherub, let's get you cleaned up a bit and then off to bed.” Upon seeing your confused face, he asks, “What's wrong?”

“Where....? Where did they go?”

“Hmm? Oh, them.” Jimin strolls off casually, “I sent them to Hell, right where they belong, and right where they would've ended up anyways. Consider it a fast pass.”

“But wouldn't someone report them missing?”

“I'll have that taken care of.”

You hum, not sure how but supposing it's for the best. A short moment after, you feel Jimin stop in his tracks.

“What is it?” You ask. Stooping down, he grabs something off the ground and when he straightens, you see that it's the old book that Henri had been holding during the summoning.

“Oh it's –”

“Woah I haven't seen this in centuries!”

The excitement in his voice catches you off guard. Such a stark contrast that it makes you double-take on the book to make sure it's the same one you're both talking about. In an impressive display of magic, Jimin tosses the book upwards, allowing it to flip open by itself and hover in the air before you. Now, you can clearly see the dark scrawls, all in a language you don't recognize but for Jimin, it seems he's taking great joy in reading whatever is written. Curiousity piqued, you ask, “What does it say?”

“Oh, just nonsense about other demons; like Menstopheles' horns are only big because he's overcompensating. Or Xe'arix is scared of black cats and big spiders....Stupid shit we all wrote about each other at some point in our lives....Wonder where's mine....”

You're in utter disbelief to say the least, but what's even crazier is that for some reason, this sounds more and more like....

“....Is this....a burn book?”

“...A what now?”

“You know....like from 'Mean Girls?'”

“....What is 'Mean Girls?'” The innocent tilt of his head at you is more than enough to let you know that he's being honest. A laugh wheezes out of you, and you knock your head gently against Jimin's chest. This entire time....Ah, forget it...

You silently however, make a mental note to drag him into watching the movie again with you. He blinks perplexedly but shrugs, just happy to see you safe.

“Alright enough of this.” Jimin flicks the book and it goes flying before bursting into flames, dissolving instantly, then continues on walking. As if no longer plagued by the dark magic, the forest once again settles into a quiet peaceful lull, crickets chirping and a few fireflies dotting along the path in front of you. Along with the warmth of Jimin, the exhaustion after an adrenaline high has sleep pulling at your eyes.

“So,” You hear Jimin say, and you hum back absentmindedly. “How's that for a first camping experience?”

“....Jimin....” Your groan comes out from the depths of your soul, like you've aged ten years. The tinkling of his laughter follows but you silently consent; this was not exactly the wild outdoor adventures you had signed up for and quite frankly, you think you'll spend the rest of the year indoors.

Camping – you respect it, but it just ain't you.

[goonlalagoon]

In which there is a heatwave || Leagues and Legends

Mid-July I was partway through camp NaNo and also a heatwave, so naturally wrote a thousand words of the baby rangers dealing with a heatwave. Seeing as we’re still in a heatwave, I’m posting it.

Jack grimaced as sweat trickled down between his shoulderblades. He’d thought he was used to Rivertown’s heat, but the summer had come on with a vengence. The dirt roads were cracked and parched, but somehow the air was humid and sticky - a damp fog that meant sweating did little except make you feel disgusting and dehydrated.

 He practically stumbled up the stairs, ungainly in a way he hadn’t been on his prosthetic for months. The flat was gloriously cool, and he let out a moan of delight, leaning against the wall and basking in the suddenly bearable temperature. Laney waved vaguely at him from where she was lying on the floor. Jack squinted at her curiously while he dropped down into the chair kept near the door to tug off his shoe and run a cloth over his prosthetic - it had a hedgewitch enchantment on it to draw dust and dirt to it like a magnet, an effect that was weak but worked perfectly for keeping him from tramping muck all over their home. He hung the cloth back onto its peg and wandered over to peer down at his friend.

 She gave him a half-hearted glare.

“I’m from the desert, Jack, why am I finding this so hard?” Jack grinned and shrugged.

“Out of practice?” His voice came out as a croak and he grimaced. Laney pushed herself up on her elbows, glancing between him and the door, eyes flitting over his backpack where it still leaned against the wall. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Rupert marching in from the kitchen and thrusting a glass of water into Jack’s hand.

“You didn’t take your water bottle with you, what were you thinking? Did you even look at the temperature predictions for today?” Jack shrugged, gulping water. Rupert set a glass down next to Laney with a pointed look, though spared her the lecture. She took a sip anyway, tipping the glass at him in thanks. Jack was half-heartedly protesting, pointing out that he hadn’t expected to be out more than half an hour and should have been back long before it got so hot.

 Both of his friends snorted at that, and he looked sheepish, because Jack never stuck to time when he went to pop his head into Leaf and Red’s mini-academy, always getting drawn into demonstrating something or giving a stressed out student a shoulder to cry on. Grey wandered in with his nose in a book, looked between them and scowled at Jack, before dropping down onto the rug next to Laney.

“Move your legs over,” he grumbled, “you’re already hogging the best spot.” She gave him a steady look, smiling slightly, until he fidgeted in place nervously, then shuffled her legs so she was lying diagonally and he could move over into the space her feet had been occupying. Jack looked between them, then up at the ceiling.

“Oh! Right, the cooling charm is strongest there, huh?” Both mages nodded. Rupert vanished back into the kitchen, reappearing a moment later with another two glasses of water. Grey accepted his without comment, and Rupert dropped down onto the sofa with the other. Jack perched on his favourite chair, sipping at the rest of his water gratefully.

 He’d thought previous summers in Rivertown had been near unbearably hot, but then the heatwave had struck. Even the locals, the ones who in the past had made comments on soft forest and mountain folk with varying levels of good natured humour, were struggling. Laney had been sticking cooling charms everywhere she could get to with Grey’s help as a battery pack, until Sez had bullied them into stopping before they exhausted themselves. The charms had to be renewed every few days, and just the effort involved in travelling between places in the city was a lot to deal with. The best solution most people had found was to turn almost nocturnal wherever possible, hiding inside or in the shade during the day if it was an option.

 Others took the option of using the new elsewhere port options to get away from the city, out to the coast or up to the mountains. They’d considered doing the same, but leaving Grey for a even a few days to deal with the heat on his own had seemed too unfair, even if they’d been prepared to drop all of their other responsibilities to do it. Laney had taken to porting them out in the mornings Grey was at the library, though, visiting Bea and Bidi, or going to Challenge to see who was around, to Saint John’s port to say hi to George and Heather. The coastal city wasn’t really that much cooler, but there was a breeze coming in off the sea that made it more bearable.

 After a while, Laney and Grey started muttering over possible improvements to the cooling charm, to make it last longer or take less effort to set up. Jack listened to enough to pick up that they were trying to get it to convert the heat into energy to power the spell, somehow, and tuned them back out. Rupert gave him a rueful grin, and Jack shrugged back. He shuffled into the kitchen to fill a jug of water and a bowl of fruit kept cool under another charm, refilling everyone’s glasses, before putting the fruit in easy reach of everyone (or, at least, equally out of reach for everyone) and tugging his chair closer to Rupert’s corner of the sofa. The other boy had already pulled out a pack of cards and was shuffling them, well used to this routine after several days of being resigned to being as sedentary as possible.

“Tomorrow I’ll port us out to the desert, I want to see if it’s actually cooler there.” Rupert sighed.

“It’s not, Lane, you know it’s not - it’s the humidity.”

“Science, Rupert! First hand observation to prove or disprove a hypothesis.” Grey snorted, and Jack chorused along with him,

“You can’t conclusively prove a scientific hypothesis, you can gather evidence to make a strong argument for what is most probable.” Laney rolled her eyes at them both. Jack grinned at her, unrepentant.

“We could go say hi to Miz E,” he nudged Rupert’s foot with his own, absently glad that he’d cooled off enough now that contact didn’t make him want to crawl out of his own skin. Rupert smiled back, eyes brightening. “Leave her a care package if she’s not in office. Lane, we all know you really want to go to the desert to say hi to your family and get more of your desert tea that you refuse to tell me the ingredients of.”

“It’s a secret, Jack, we don’t tell outsiders.”

“You have literally referred to us as your family on multiple occasions.”

“And? I’m still allowed to have secrets.” Grey snickered.

“Is the secret here that you don’t actually know what all the ingredients are?”

 Laney gave him a considering look, sitting up to reach towards the bowl of fruit. At the last minute she grabbed one of the pillows Rupert had nudged to the floor instead and clobbered Grey with it.

 Jack was also glad he’d cooled down enough that he didn’t mind diving into the pillow fight for an instant.

[queenxxxsupreme]

A Soft Heart, A Sweet Soul

A/N: Honestly couldn’t tell you where this came from. It started off as an idea of Kieran coming to Arthur and reader for advice on how to talk to Mary-Beth because I absolutely adore Kieran and Mary-Beth but then it ended up turning into some camp shenanigans and well.... this happened??? This takes place at Horseshoe Overlook.

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff and camp shenanigans

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Kieran comes to you and Arthur for dating advice. 

**gif isnt mine**

“What’re ya workin’ on?” 

You tore your eyes away from the article of clothing in your hands to watch Arthur. He pulled up a chair just across from you and took out a cigarette.

“Just patching up some clothes. A fella I know likes to go around gettin’ into bar fights and scraps with a whole bunch of wild animals. He’s too hard on his clothes.”

He grunted as he lit the cigarette and leaned back in his seat. 

“I ain’t that hard on clothes.”

“I have to patch somethin’ of yours every other day.” You teased, a grin coming to your lips. 

He swatted a hand playfully at you, shaking his head. 

“I don’t believe it.”

“What’s this from, Arthur?” You held the shirt you were currently working on up to show him the hole in the front of the shirt. 

“That one wasn’t even my fault.” Arthur paused for a moment to look around camp, searching for someone. His eyes landed on Charles, who was brushing down Taima at the hitching posts. “That man over there started a fight in Valentine! Didn’t ya, Charles?”

“Charles would do no such thing.” You looked over at Charles, who wore a faint grin but didn’t look in your direction. “You didn’t start that fight, did you?”

“I didn’t start it, but I did finish it.”

“See, Arthur? He’s too nice.”

“Nice my ass.” Arthur muttered with the cigarette between his lips. “Anyways, the fella I was fightin’ tried to stab me but he wasn’t too good with a knife. Only caught the shirt.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll let that one pass since you did a terrible job at blaming Charles for causing it.” You nodded softly, biting your bottom lip to try to hide a grin. 

“Them pants that you have over your lap have a busted out knee.”

“Yeah, I noticed when I was tryin’ to wash them. What did you do?”

“I, uh, I tripped.” Arthur tried to cough to hide what he was saying but just as he spoke Javier was passing by behind him. 

“You what?”

“Shut up, Javier. This don’t involve you.” Arthur waved Javier off but Javier wasn’t giving up so easily. 

“No, no, it does now.” He put one hand on the back of Arthur’s chair. “What happened, Arthur?”

Arthur grunted and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I tripped goin’ down a hill when I was out.” He shook his head, holding the cigarette between his index and middle finger. “The hills over there in the Grizzlies East are steep. Hosea had me out huntin’ and didn’t warn me that it was so steep. And the rocks were loose under my boots and it all happened so fast-,”

“Poor baby.” You frowned, trying your best to not laugh. Javier didn’t shy away from laughing at him though as he moved away from you, throwing his head back and holding his stomach. The other few people around you, including Charles, Karen, and Hosea, also laughed. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Arthur took a drag from the cigarette. “Laugh at me and my clumsiness.”

You reached over to pat his knee

A comfortable silence seemed to fall over camp. It was rare and peaceful. It was one of those evenings where little was happening. The sun was going down behind the trees and many of the lamps around camp were starting to be turned on. 

Arthur was home before dark for once, which you were thankful for. You rarely got to spend time with him before it was time for bed. It was nice to be able to sit with him, even if you had little chores to do while you sat there. 

“Thank you for doin’ that for me, pumpkin.” Arthur spoke, keeping his voice low so only you could hear him. He leaned forward in his chair, flicking his cigarette down onto the ground and then stepping on to it. Then he moved his chair a little closer to you so that if he wanted to, he could lean forward and kiss you.

“You’re very welcome, darlin’. You know it’s my pleasure.” You flashed him a smile. “I always love hearin’ all these stories about how you tear up your clothes on your adventures. It’s very amusing knowin’ you’re just like a giant clumsy toddler.”

“Are you gonna give me a hard time all night?” He raised a brow at you, a teasing glint flashing in his brilliant blue eyes.

“Oh, you know that’s my favorite thing to do.” You looked down at the shirt to watch where you were pushing the needle through. “If I didn’t give you a hard time, who else would?”

“There’s plenty of people to give me a hard time ‘round here.”

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught Arthur’s attention. He turned his head to see Kieran making his way towards you two. Arthur let out a small sigh and leaned back in his chair, a little irritated that the peaceful moment between you and him had been interrupted. 

“M’sorry to-to bother you, Mr. Morgan, Ms. Y/L/N. I-I just wanna talk to you for-for a minute, Arthur.” Kieran stopped a few feet away from your chairs.

“Me?” Arthur raised his brows, eyes widening slightly. “Why? You got somethin’ planned, O’Driscoll?”

“Arthur!” You scolded him, reaching over and smacking his arm. 

“Ow!”

“I-I’m sorry to bother y’all.” Kieran turned to walk away, shaking his head.

“Kieran, don’t let Arthur’s bad manners scare you away.” You glared at Arthur before bringing your attention to Kieran. “Is it something I could help you with?” 

Arthur ran a hand over his face, knowing very well you’d get after him later for his behavior. 

Kieran didn’t say anything at first. He nervously messed with his hands and looked off to the side. 

You followed his gaze, eyes landing on Mary-Beth. 

“I-I just…. M’not too sure how to, uh, to talk to her, is all.” He spoke quietly. He looked back to you. “I thought maybe since y’all seem like such a nice couple that you might have some good advice you could give. I just don’t-don’t wanna mess nothin’ up.”

“Oh, that’s sweet of you, Kieran.” You smiled, then gestured to the empty chair sitting across the table from you. “Have a seat with us.”

Arthur opened his mouthed to object but decided at the last minute to not say anything about Kieran joining you both at the table. 

“Just ‘cause we seem like a nice couple, don’t mean we are.” Arthur shook his head, motioning to you with his thumb. “She’s meaner than hell.”

“I’m the one sewing the holes you leave behind in your clothes, Mr. Morgan.” You reminded him, a little smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “Once they’re patched up, I’ll sell your clothes in Valentine. Make a decent penny, and buy myself something nice.” 

“That’s a damn good idea.” Arthur chuckled, rubbing his scruffy jaw.

“Now shut up and listen so we can help the kid out.” You put the clothes in your lap on to the table so you could give Kieran your full attention. “Have you tried talking to her at all yet, Kieran?”

Just as Kieran was about to answer, Sean came over to the table. 

“Why do you lot look so dead? Swear there’s more life in a cemetery.”

Your eyes met Arthur’s and he let out a sigh, knowing he’d have to be the one to make the sacrifice and draw Sean away.

“Hey, Sean?” He stood to his feet. “Come with me a second, buddy.” 

“Sure thing, Arthur!”

“Have you tried talking to her, Kieran?” You repeated your question.

“Yeah, a little.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But it seems…. It-It just don’t feel like it’s goin’ nowhere. It feels like I-Ikeep messin’ up. I just don’t know what to say and-and it’s hard talkin’ to pretty girls. I-I get all nervous and stumble all over my words.”

“Just remember that she’s a person too. It’s okay to be nervous and to mess up with your words. She’s a really sweet girl, Kieran. She won’t think anything of it as long as you’re nice.”

“You think so?”

You nodded your head.

“You should’ve seen Arthur when he and I first started talking.” Your eyes found Arthur. He’d taken Sean across camp and distracted him with something. “He’s not the big brute he likes to make everyone think he is. He’s a sweet man with a big heart. The first time he ever took me out somewhere, he spilt whiskey all over me.”

“Did he really?” Kieran chuckled. “And-And you still talked to him after that?��

“Of course I did. It was an accident. He’s never done anything to hurt me.” You brought your attention back to Kieran. “You’re a good kid, Kieran. All of us here can see that. I’m positive Mary-Beth can see it too.”

“I hope so.” Kieran turned his head to look in her direction. “She’s really nice, Y/N.”

“She is a sweet girl.” You agreed.

“Thank you for talkin’ with me, Y/N.”

“Anytime, Kieran.” You gave him a smile and watched him leave. 

You went back to working on Arthur’s clothes. A little while later, Arthur returned to his seat. 

“That kid needs an off button.” He muttered, glancing over to Sean. “How did talkin’ with Kieran go?”

“Good.” You looked up at Arthur through your lashes. “I told him about how you spilt whiskey on me that time you took me to that dusty old saloon in Montana.”

Arthur groaned.

“Now why would you do that?”

“Because it made him feel better about being so nervous around Mary-Beth.”

Arthur fell silent for a few moments, his eyes finding Kieran and Mary-Beth. The two were sitting near each other chatting quietly. You looked over your shoulder to see what he was looking at. 

“You think they’d be good together? You don’t think he’d….?”

“You’ve got to stop calling him an O’Driscoll, Arthur.” You looked at Arthur then back down to his clothes. “He’s one of us. He saved your life, you know.”

“I know.” Arthur let out a heavy breath. “Just…. Just don’t like it.”

“He’s not like them.” You finished the last stitch on the shirt and tied it off. “You can see it in his eyes, and in the way he interacts with everyone around here. He’s sweet. He just didn’t have the right start at life. Didn’t have the right people around him.”

“Sounds like you’re gettin’ soft on him.”

You rolled your eyes and threw the shirt at Arthur, hitting him in the face with it. 

“You can be such a horse’s ass sometimes, Arthur Morgan.” You stood up and started to move away from the table but Arthur’s hand caught your wrist. 

“I’m just teasin’ you, Y/N.” He put the shirt on the table and then tugged you over to stand between his knees. “Just don’t understand why you’re so keen on helpin’ him. You’re never this nice.”

“I am a very nice person.” You looked down at him, bringing your hands up to cup either side of his face. Your thumb brushed along his cheekbones. 

On his right cheek, there was a faint white line that cut just an inch or so beneath his eye. You focused on that for a few moments. 

“I know a fella that a lot of people think is hard and mean.” You whispered. “Many people wouldn’t think that he likes it when I brush my fingers through his hair at night. Or that when he can’t sleep, he likes to put his head in my lap and listen to me read.”

You were thankful that the sun had finally gone down all the way and that most of the gang was gathered around two of the fires on the other side of camp. They wouldn’t be able to interrupt or witness your moment with Arthur, who very rarely liked any sort of public displays of affection. The ones who did witness it were Mrs. Grimshaw, who had been doing her mother hen rounds to check and make sure everything was in line, and John, who was keeping patrol just outside of camp. Grimshaw pretended to not see anything as she kept walking, humming to herself with a cigarette between her fingers. John smiled a little. It made him happy that someone made Arthur so soft. 

“Who is this fella?” Arthur asked, his voice low and a little raspy. His eyes shut for a moment as you leaned forward to kiss his brow. He settled his hands around your hips, just holding you where you stood between his legs. “Might have to fight him.”

“Silly man.” You giggled softly, running your fingers back through his hair. “I’m a good judge of character, Arthur. Have a little faith in me.”

You started to step away from him. As your touch left him, his hand found yours and he stood up so he could pull you into his arms. 

“I have faith in you. It’s the O’Driscoll I don’t trust.” 

“I’m gonna start keeping count of every time you call him that and there’s gonna be consequences.” You squeezed Arthur’s fingers. 

“What kinda consequences?” A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. 

“Ones you won’t like.” You pulled your hand from his and looked around camp. 

Mary-Beth was sitting on her bedroll reading by a lamp. Kieran was brushing down his horse just outside of camp. 

“I’m not saying you have to be friends with him, Arthur.” You turned your attention to him as he stood from his chair. “Just stop callin’ him an O’Driscoll.”

He let out a rather exaggerated sigh and ran a hand over his face.

“If it makes you happy-,”

“It would make me very happy.” 

Arthur narrowed his eyes at you. You innocently smiled. 

“You drive me crazy, woman.” He put his arm around you and started to guide you towards your shared tent. 

“You know you wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Of course not.” He kissed your cheek. “I like the crazy.”

“Did Charles really start that fight in Valentine?”

Taglist: @winterwolf @doggone-cowgirl

If you’d like to be on my taglist, please go here! If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[13uswntimagines]

Shy but Fierce (Alpha!Christen x Omega!Reader)

Request: alpha christen one where the reader is new on the team and they find out they’re mates? maybe christen is shy but also v fierce when it comes to her new found omega

Pt. 2

Special thanks to @literaryhedgehog​ for helping me make this thing not as heavy as it originally way and livening it up with her BBQ discussion. Hit me up with Questions or if ya just wanna say hi!

It was a warm wave rolling through your body. The feelings of all your nerves tingling on end and your souls reaching out to intertwine with another’s. You smiled at the warmth spreading through your chest as you made eye contact with the green-eyed veteran. 

Of all the things you expected from your first camp, meeting your mate in the first 20 minutes was not one of them. Your best friend had told you that the team was welcoming, but this was definitely more than you bargained for. 

Nonetheless, you smiled charmingly up at the frozen alpha, lifting her hand to your lips. 

“Well it's most definitely a pleasure to meet you,” You purred, smirking at the blush that crawled up the alpha’s (your alpha’s?) cheeks. 

Rose rolled her eyes at your antics. The alpha had known you since you were in diapers, and in that time she had learned you were not your stereotypical omega. You weren’t meek or shy and loved to flirt. Christen was gonna have fun trying to reel you in. 

Christen opened and closed her mouth several times, wide eyes taking you in. Tobin snickered behind her. 

“What Chris, cat got your tongue?” 

“Not yet, but I’m sure it will soon,” You smirked, lips ticking up at Christen’s dropped jaw. If your alpha was this easy to fluster when you weren’t even trying, this was going to be a blast. 

“Hey hot stuff, middy meeting starts soon, we better go,” Rose smiled, throwing an arm over your shoulder, amused by your effect on the normally put together alpha. 

“Later cutie pie, see you on the field,” You winked at Christen, kissing her hand again before allowing Rose to guide you to where the rest of the midfielders were getting ready to meet. 

Christen watched you go with wide eyes, still trying to process what had just happened. 

“Holy shit, is she always like that?” Christen asked, looking at Mal. If her alpha knew you so well, then she was bound to have insights. 

Mal suppressed her snicker “This is her going easy on you,” 

The omega had heard the stories about you and found them difficult to believe at first. But seeing you in action was pretty inspiring. 

“It’s nice to see after everything that happened with the Courage,” Megan added, watching you carefully. 

She didn’t think she would ever be able to get the sight of you pale and sickly out of her head. You had been so hesitant when you joined the Regin, and Rose had been overly protective (Megan would learn that there was a very good reason why as she got to know you). 

“What happened with the Courage?” Christen snapped, her elation dwindling as she tried to find some sense of unease in your stance. Her eyes squeezed when she couldn’t find anything. Soon enough she would be able to read you like the back of her hand. 

“That’s her story to tell,” Mal said firmly, shaking her head. Christen frowned, she might be shy and “adorable” as you put it, but she would cut a bitch if they hurt her mate. 

*****

“Hey cutie, is this seat taken?” You asked, gesturing towards the seat beside your mate. 

“N-no not at all,” Christen stuttered out, blushing when she accidentally released a small puff of her pheromones. God, she felt like a teenager going through their first rut. 

“Fantastic,” You smirked, sitting down, and moving the chair so it was very close to the alpha, so close your thighs were basically touching. “Hmm, you smell good,” you hummed, leaning in so your nose was nearly touching her neck and breathing in deep. If this was a snapshot into what the rest of your life was going to be, you were completely ok with that. 

“Th-thanks,” She shivered as your cold nose touched her skin, closing her eyes and biting her lip, trying with every ounce of her being to control her instincts. 

****

“You better save her before she melts,” Mal said, leaning into her alpha. Rose carded her fingers through the omega’s hair, scratching her scalp the way she knew her mate liked. 

“Nah, let Y/n have her fun. She hasn’t been this relaxed in forever,” Sonnett snorted, shaking her head as Christen’s face got progressively redder. 

“Seems like Y/n is handling herself fine to me,” Rose shrugged. 

You hadn’t been this open with anyone since she had rescued you from the courage. She wasn’t going to step in between you and the thing (person) who was making you happy. Chris was a big girl and she could handle herself. 

****

“Alright lovebirds, it’s only the first night of camp and you’re already disgustingly sweet,” Ashlyn said feigning seriousness as she took the seat on your other side. You missed the look Ali shot her in your haste to scoot away from your alpha, knocking over your plate in the process. 

Your eyes stayed glued to your lap and your head tilted just slightly to the side. Christen’s eyebrows furrowed as you seemed to sink in on yourself. 

Rose was on her feet immediately, rushing over to put herself in between you and Ashlyn. Christen took that as her cue and was also on her feet seconds later. 

“If it bothers you, Ashlyn, you can sit somewhere else,” Christen growled, stepping around you to act as a barrier between you and the very confused alphas “It doesn’t bother me I was just saying--” Ashlyn sputtered. 

“Well don’t!” Rose snapped, turning her back on Ashlyn to look at you. “You okay KitKat?” 

“Yeah I’m fine,” you murmured, avoiding her eyes, your head still tilting to expose your neck. She sighed. 

“You don’t have to do that. This team is different,” she mumbled, and you nodded noncommittally. 

“You spilled your barbecue.” She laughed, trying to lighten the mood. 

“It’s Memphis style barbecue anyway, hardly worth eating,” you said, giving her a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, don’t know why they bother, everyone knows Kansas style is the best” Becky scoffed, smiling from across the table and winking at Rose. 

“I mean, I would say that good barbecue is one of the only good things to come out of North Carolina,” you said, grinning into your napkin, “but then y’all haven’t tried Cookout milkshakes.”

“What happened in North Carolina?” Christen interjected, and you froze, biting your lip so hard she was afraid you would draw blood. 

Your smile faded, and your eyes took on a faraway look. 

*****

You were not the typical omega. You were outgoing and a bouncing ray of sun that loved to meet new people. On your first day with the courage you had bounded up to everyone, your hand stuck out and a bright grin on your face (an act that had gotten you into serious trouble). 

You looked one too many alphas in the eye before one took a particular offense and forced you to submit. Most of the team and coaching staff had simply watched while she humiliated you. 

As the season progressed, things had only gotten worse and you had become more and more unbalanced. You jumped at the opportunity to get out of there the second you could, thanking God that there was a spot for a striker on the Reign with Rose. 

*****

“Hinkle thought it would be fun to assert her alpha ness,” You shrugged, picking at your fingers, flinching at the weight of Christen’s eyes on you, and the pheromones she was beginning to emit. 

“She forced you to submit?” The alpha asked breathlessly, her heart dropping when you gave her a singular stiff nod, wincing as though it pained you. She was sure it did. It was the greatest form of disrespect. “How many times,” she tried to keep her voice level, she didn’t want to scare you off. 

“Too many,” You said slowly. 

“I would never make you do that. None of us would,” Christen said horrified, kneeling down in front of you, and letting out her soothing scent. Though you weren’t mates yet, it still wrapped around you like a warm blanket, settling your nerves. 

You nodded quickly, grabbing her hand for support. “I know. I could tell. Plus you blush too much to be an asshole alpha,” you smirked towards the end, she smiled in return. 

“You might turn me to mush, but that’s not going to stop me from ripping her head off the next time I see her,” 

She wasn’t the only one who held that sentiment. It was fair to say that a certain North Carolina defender was going to hit the turf a lot next season. No one got to mess with one of their teammates.

[timelesslords]

fluff 3 or fluff 10 please!!! (i love all ur fics sm)

ty <3! I went with a very loose interpretation of fluff 10 (are we on a date right now?) for this one lol

send me a sentence starter and I’ll fill it for Percabeth

“Are we on a date right now?”

“We’re on a mission right now. Focus, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy had sort of known that already, but if this was genuinely a mission and not a date, Annabeth wasn’t exactly dressed for the occasion. She was wearing a white summer dress, short and flowy, patterned with tiny cherries. The light fabric contrasted with her tan skin, making it seem to glow gold in the sunlight. Her long curly hair tumbled free over her shoulders, out of its usual practical ponytail.

Of course, she had an imperial gold knife strapped to her thigh under her skirt, but that didn’t negate the impracticality of the outfit otherwise. Not that Percy was complaining— she looked gorgeous. Still, it left him a little confused. 

“But we are like, on a date,” Percy said. 

“We’re pretending to be on a date,” Annabeth corrected. 

It was a sunny California day, and they were sitting on an outdoor patio of a restaurant. A restaurant that was in the mortal world, not New Rome, and although Percy had been debriefed beforehand, he was having trouble seeing exactly where the date ended and mission began. 

“You’re my girlfriend,” Percy pointed out. 

“So?” 

“So doesn’t that make this fake date a real date?”  

“No,” Annabeth said shortly, taking a sip of her sweet tea. Her straw was already stained with the lipstick she was wearing, red to match the cherries on her dress.

“I’m confused,” Percy admitted.  

“I explained this before we left.”

“And I was as confused then as I am now.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes, long and hard. Gods, she was hot when she was annoyed at him. Which was a very dangerous thought to have, because if she wasn’t he might be more careful about antagonizing her. 

“We’re pretending to be on this nice lunch date so that we can keep an eye on that server over there,” Annabeth said, tilting her head surreptitiously towards one of the waiters dealing with a table to their right, a kid with dark hair who looked maybe 16. 

“Who might be a half-blood,” Percy remembered. He had been paying some attention when she explained it earlier. 

“Right.”

“Wouldn’t bringing the two of us here drive out any monsters that are here?” Percy asked, frowning, “I mean, not to brag or anything, but I’ve been told I smell tasty.” 

“That’s kind of the idea,” Annabeth said, taking another sip of tea. 

“You didn’t mention that before we left,” Percy said, only a touch accusatory.  

And, okay, he probably should have seen this coming. If there was a monster stalking the kid, which given his age, was likely, Percy and Annabeth’s presence would be enough to draw it out. Then they could get rid of it and send the kid along to whatever camp he was suited for. It was very up Annabeth’s alley, what with its kill-two-birds-with-one-stone approach.

“You hadn’t gotten that far,” Annabeth said. If she was bothered by Percy’s tone, she didn’t show it. In fact, she looked like she was trying not to laugh.  

“Hadn’t gotten that far in what?” Percy asked, playing along. 

“In understanding the plan,” Annabeth said. 

“You made this convoluted on purpose,” Percy said, grinning, and now it was a genuine accusation— an amused one, but an accusation all the same. Annabeth just shrugged innocently. 

“It’s not my fault good plans are complex sometimes,” she said.  

“Were you just counting on me thinking this was a date so I would agree to go?” Percy asked. 

“No,” Annabeth said, though her eyes flickered away from his for just a second. 

“You’re a bad liar,” Percy said, affectionately.

“No I’m not,” Annabeth rebuffed, bristling, “I specifically told you before we left that this was a fake date.” 

“I would have gone anyway,” Percy said. It was true. He would probably go anywhere Annabeth asked him to, but a simple recon mission to pick up a possible half-blood really was no sweat. Even if monsters were involved.

“It was easier this way,” Annabeth said. She was fighting to keep the smile off her face now, he could see the corners of her mouth twitching.

“Easier for you,” Percy said, grinning openly. 

“Well, I wasn’t about to make it easier for you,” Annabeth said, smile finally breaking through. 

“So you lured me on the promise of a nice date out with my girlfriend and instead I’m sitting here as monster bait,” Percy said, leaning back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.  

“I lured you out with the promise of a fake date,” Annabeth amended, “And I mentioned everything but the monsters beforehand.”

“You could’ve mentioned the monsters.”

Annabeth shrugged again, unconcerned.

“I knew you would get there eventually.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“Anytime babe.” 

“I really would have come anyway.” 

“I know, that’s why I didn’t feel bad. It was just more fun this way,” Annabeth said, smiling around the straw of her drink.

“For you,” Percy said, though he was smiling too. 

“I like watching you figure out my plans,” Annabeth said,   

Percy raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, do you?” 

Annabeth flushed a little at that, but unfortunately did not have a chance to respond. At that exact moment there was a loud crash a few tables over, a piercing scream rippling through the air. Percy and Annabeth exchanged a look.

“Looks like our date is over,” Percy sighed, pulling Riptide out of his pocket.

“Fake date,” Annabeth corrected, knife already in hand.

“Raincheck for a real one?” he asked, uncapping his sword. She flashed him a grin. 

“Always.” 

[cabinofimagines]

You’ve got some really bad habits

some can be interpreted platonically, and others are not up for debate. Lucky enough, I have more than enough bad habits to draw inspiration from (that’s not something to brag about, I know.) - day

warnings : nothing too serious. things that seem quite trivial ig, but bad habits nonetheless

requests : Could you do a fic where the seven and whoever like checks up on the readers? They take care of them and their unhealthy habits?? Thank you!

P e r c y

Biting your nails

The two of you were lounging on a picnic blanket on top of half-blood hill, watching as the sun set sooner than either of you would have liked. You laid back on Percy’s arm, one hand rested on top of his chest and feeling it fall and rise with every breath.

He made a noise suddenly and raised your hand to his face, examining it closely and sighing, “You’re still biting your nails down to the nub I see.” His lips rested against the middle finger, turning his head to connect eyes with yours, “You promised you’d try not to do that anymore.”

You looked away guiltily, pulling your hand away, “I tried, but it’s hard to break a habit like that.”

He chewed his lip in thought, “Hey, my mom had the same issue, and she had this nail polish that helped her stop.” He looked back to you with a small smile, “I’ll ask if I can borrow it next time I visit!”

A n n a b e t h

swearing

It wasn’t like it was a big deal, it certainly didn’t make her uncomfortable and she actually thought it was really funny. Annabeth always looked forward to hearing which combination you could come up with next and how it would fit the situation you used it in.

But when you visited Olympus on the occasion of returning one of the gods stolen pieces and came out with more than on swear, she felt like it should be discussed where you can use this language. She was laughing a little when she reprimanded you, so you didn’t know if she was serious or not but promised anyway to watch what you say and where you say it.

F r a n k

Being late

Poor Frank must be a ball of anxiety by now, you thought. You were running late to your first date with Frank and that was not something for you to be late to. There was no excuse to use to cover for yourself. Your time management has always been a big flaw of yours.

You swung open the door to the cafe to see Frank sitting there tracing the lines of the wooden table. Apologies left your lips before Frank even knew you were there, his face relaxing once he realized you hadn’t stood him up after all.  

He laughed and assured you that he was just glad you came at all but commented on your horrible time-keeping skills. You smiled at his light-hearted nature and promised you’d work on them just for him. The occasion became sort of an inside joke between the two of you afterwards.

H a z e l

Biting your lip

It was hurting both of you in entirely different ways. For you, it was peeling your lip, causing it to bleed and become more sensitive than it ought to be. For Hazel, it was tormenting to watch the plump flesh being pulled and bit between your teeth, only to be let go with a silent pop.

She stayed quiet about it for the most part, deciding that kissing you whenever you did so and when it was appropriate was enough to stop the habit. But you did it one too many times today, causing even the good-tempered Hazel to snap.

“Good grief, y/n” she sighed exasperatedly, “can you not go one minute without biting your lip?”

You stared wide-eyed at your girlfriend, entirely unused to her scolding. You couldn’t help but laugh and lick your lips to tease her further, “What else am I to do that keeps them preoccupied?”

J a s o n

Cracking knuckles

Jason hated the sound so much. Anytime you did it, he would make a face and express how much he disliked it. It was a point of teasing at first and he made it a point to show you how much he hated it by giving you a certain look that was manufactured just for the times you did that.

It was the breaking point for Jason when you did so in front of him when you were out with Leo to buy some Christmas presents. He gave a groan and spun to look at you with that look again, “Y/n please stop doing that! At least when I’m around.” His voice softened when he saw the embarrassed look on your face. 

Leo mumbled a “yikes” and turned into the first store he saw; a boutique.

You rubbed your arm uncomfortably and whispered a small, “I’m sorry” before walking into the shop behind Leo, leaving Jason to regret the way he handled the discomfort.

P i p e r

Not being able to say no

Okay, you’ll admit that you were crying, but you weren’t going to admit why. You were supposed to meet up with Piper to play Volleyball with her and a few others, but when you didn’t show up, she got worried. She didn’t even knock which is what took you off guard.

She watched as you hurriedly tried to wipe away the tears, but they just kept coming. Piper moved to sit beside you, turning your head so she could see your red eyes, “What’s wrong? You didn’t show to Volleyball, did something happen?”

You shook your head and forced a smile, “Just tired, Pipes. I’m sorry and I’ll make it up to you.”

Her head turned in thought, eyes searching your own for an actual answer. You were about to make a joke about your tears when she spoke up first in an accusatory tone, “You know you’re not obligated to say yes to everything, right? You’re stretching yourself too thin and it’s stressing you out!”

You gaped, stammering for words but finding none. She sighed at this and collected your hand in her own, kissing the back of it, “Let’s start by not rescheduling volleyball and letting you make time for yourself instead.”

L e o 

Waiting to do things last minute

You were hurriedly throwing your things together; you were being picked up from camp by your family soon; and by soon that means that they are actually waiting at the border for you at that moment. You were mentally cursing yourself for bringing so much with you to camp, but you weren’t expecting to stay just for the summer this year.

Leo sat in your desk chair, shaking his head at your procrastination, “Y’know you could’ve at least packed the things you don’t use--”

You shoved the rest of you clothes into your suitcase and threw yourself on top in order to shut it, “You know I work better under pressure!” With one suitcase down, you moved to grab another to fill it with the rest of your belongings, “Besides, I don’t have to bring everything back home!”

He sighed and rested his head in his palm, “Okay yeah but there’s working under pressure and then there’s stressing yourself out.” But it didn’t seem like you were listening to him, too busy running through the list of things to take in your head. He resigned to letting you be for now; he would work on your bad habit when you came back to him.

W i l l

Wearing hair ties on your wrist

You’d only just woken up, barely eaten anything that morning when Will was at your table. You glanced up, startled by his arrival, and turned to face him, “Can I help you?” But his eyes weren’t on your face, but on your wrist on which held many marks from the hair tie you kept there.

He pointed, “You know that’s not healthy.” seeing your confusion he continued, “Wearing that on your wrist can actually cut off blood circulation.”

You hummed and turned your wrist as you examined the black hair tie, “Well not to sound ungrateful for the information, but I think there are more life-threatening things in my life than a hair tie.” You gave a smile and turned back to your food without another word. You then watched Will wander out of the dining hall.

You didn’t talk to him for a few days after finding all of your hair ties cut in half after breakfast.

N i c o Staying up way too late

You had no clue when the sun had set. Ever since Apollo decided to set the sun around 4-5 every day, you always assumed it was much earlier than it was. So, when Nico swung the door open to the arts and crafts center, you couldn’t tell if his expression was due to his exhaustion or if he was completely over your bad habit.

“Do you have any clue what time it is?”

You were frozen, feeling like you were caught with your hand in the cookie jar, “uh it’s 3 pm somewhere!”

Nico sighed and leaned against the doorframe tiredly. Silence overtook the room, and you knew that he wasn’t going to leave until you did too. So, you capped the paints and put away all of the crafting tools you drug out for your project. You didn’t comment on the small smirk of victory on Nico’s pale face, you’d deal with that tomorrow.

.

.

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all fics taglist : @beneaththeiceandsnow​

frank zhang taglist : @goldglitteryfoxtrot

[themonotonysyndrome]

Emerald Onlooker

Part 2 of the Successors to the Future is here! I, uh, didn’t expect a lot of people liking it, but since I’m still pretty excited about this AU, I want to write as much as I can. 

Thank you again @tri3tri for inspiring us with your Second Wive AU and many, many wonderful Yandere!Malleus content. A little summary about this AU: Yandere!Malleus married and took MC against her will. He turns her into a Queen and they had 2 daughters. However, Yandere!Malleus is pushed to take on a second wife (a Fae woman, Gekkon) to give him a son, a male heir. During the wedding ceremony, MC took the opportunity and escape to NRC with her daughters in tow and Crowley finally did them a solid and send the three of them to MC’s world.

Successors to the Future, summary: Without a court of condescending Faes and Malleus’ oppressive affection, MC and her daughters live happily in the other world. When she left Twisted Wonderland, MC didn’t realise that she was pregnant and thus, she gave birth to a son who grew up as carefree as a bird and just as kind. However, now that her eldest daughter had just turned sixteen and discover her Unique Magic, she was returned to Twisted Wonderland as a first-year student in Diasomnia. Since it’s only a matter of time before Malleus and his court discover her presence at NRC, MC and her children did their best to prepare her for that inevitable day. 

This oneshot is a continuation of that. 

FD/N = First daughter’s name/Renata Draconia (half-human, half dark Fae Princess. Malleus & MC’s eldest child)

SD/N = Second daughter’s name/Sherrie or Cherry Draconia (half-human, half-dark Fae Princess. Malleus & MC’s middle child)

S/S = Son’s name/Lucien Draconia (half-human, half-dark Fae Prince and the heir to the throne. Malleus & MC’s youngest child). 

MC/S = MC’s surname

-

Sherrie enjoy going about her daily lives on her lowest brain capacity most of the time. There’s nothing like just... switching off your brain and ignore all the boring things around you.  

The only thing that gets the gears and cogs in her brain spinning is when she plays video games like Portal or coming up with schemes to get her eldest sister out of trouble. 

When she jokes about only having 2 braincells and that both are constantly on holidays at the same time unless Renata did something stupid, Renata howl with laughter while Lucien just rolled his eyes at his cackling sisters. 

But now that Renata is playing student in Night Raven College, Sherrie is surprised to find herself looking forward to not only help her oldest sister dodged their father’s steps, but also pulling the proverbial rug underneath the Thorn Kingdom. 

Especially Lilia Vanrouge. 

It’s addicting. The unholy glee running within you when your cute puppets finally realised who’s been tugging on their strings all along. 

Humans are easy and oblivious enough for her to practise on. Despite how monotonous school can be, the environment was a good place for Sherrie to learn and play. Everyone has a chip on their shoulder; everyone wants to stand out among the rest. 

So it’s really not that hard to learn who’s the right person to blackmail, who’s desperate enough to do anything to make their crush look at them and how to make the key figures dance on the palm of her hands. 

This year’s prom night was certainly a memory she won’t ever forget. 

And now? Now Sherrie can’t wait to play with the so-called ‘superior’ species - their father’s ancient court and loyal retainers - once she and her sister could establish contact. 

They’ve been working hard on this little project. Everyone in her little family is. Renata is off being a good little student and let the gossips travel on its own, their little brother is doing his best to assured their mother that all would be well and Sherrie?

Sherrie is busy setting up the stage for the climax once Renata usher all the important players to where she wanted them. 

(Mama likes to call her a ‘smart cookie’, always rubbed her head affectionately and said, “You’re a brilliant girl, Cherry. You’re just lazy. I know you can achive anything you want with the proper motivation, just like Floyd-senpai.”.) 

(Their Mama can never know just how far her daughter had use the same skill that she praise to manipulate others.) 

In the middle of the evening - just shy after midnight -  Sherrie heard a water drip somewhere in her bedroom. 

Drip... drip... drip... 

She pushes her chair away from her gaming laptop, game paused and just listen. Her eyes scan the dimly lit bedroom. 

Drip... drip... 

“This better not be the start of a horror movie.” 

It’s coming from... somewhere near her vanity table. Sherrie ignores the clutter of make-ups, perfumes and figurines on the table and waited eagerly. Her leg couldn’t stop bouncing when the surface ripple like water’s surface once. 

The ripple clears and instead of staring at her reflection, her oldest sister stares right back at her. 

“It works!” Renata said incredulously. “I can’t believe the headmaster’s half-assed runes actually works!” 

“The fuck? What happened?” Sherrie reply, a bit taken back. Behind her sister, Sherrie could see a bed, study table and walls and other furnishing that eerily looks similar to the ones back at the castle. 

Renata waved her hand in a dismissive manner. “I had to literally bullied a grown ass man to help me contact you. It took me a week of camping in the library to figured out how, but we managed to come up with runes that allow us to create a link to every mirror in the house.” She explains in an exasperated tone. “I’ll teach you the drawing tomorrow. All you guys need to do is just draw them on any mirror and it’ll send me a signal to find a mirror of my own.” 

“That kinda sounds like a phone call. Like, an interdimensional phone call!” 

“I know right! I already put a compact mirror in my purse so I can call you anytime!” Renata said with a smug grin. She’s clearly proud of her clever little trick. Even with the help of the headmaster. 

Sherrie never doubted that her sister couldn’t find a way to contact them. She’s a prodigy when it comes to magic. 

She might be young, but she could still remember how their tutors gave out praises as if they were candies when it comes to her older sister and her affinity for magic. 

It’s just too bad that their compliments are worthless when they always ended with, “If only the Princess is a full born Fae...” 

“Ok, so, contact established. Now are you still in Phase 1?” Sherrie said, bringing their conversation back to important matters. She made sure to properly and slowly explain their game plan a week before the Ebony Carriage took Renata to Night Raven College. The words are clearly written, highlighted colourfully and important steps are accompanied by cartoon stickers. 

Despite being a prodigy at magic, her sister woefully has short attention span when it comes to playing the long game. Her attention spans burn hot and fast, just like her anger. It also burns out just as quick as it came. 

Renata rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “Yes, yes. I’m still in Phase 1. It’s hard to make friends when everyone is wary of you. Do you know they hung up portraits of past Dorm Leaders and their Vice Dorm Leaders in each dorm? It’s so annoying when everyone stares at me and at father’s portrait whenever I walk into Disomnia!” 

Sherrie hums and made a quick dash to grab her tablet. The one where she wrote down her plans. She swipes the screen to the list of names that their mother had given them. 

“They’re just NPCs, don’t worry about them. What you need to focus on are the students with the surnames that Mama gave us.” Here, Sherrie is tapping on the screen of her tablet to the mirror. “Have you met any of them or did you fucked up the plan already?” 

“Calm your tits, I’ve been following your instructions.” Renata assured her, not the least riled up. “We’re only in the first semester; I only managed to match the names and faces of my dorm mates so far. It’s gonna take me at least a month of snooping around before I could find them.” Renata paused and her eyes suddenly lit up as if she just remembered something. “Oh, but I’ve been farming intel of the Thorn Kingdom using the Lucky Leanan spell every day after curfew. It took some trial and error but I successfully managed to find the castle again!”

Sherrie recalls that one of Renata spells - Lucky Leanan - creates a small fairy made out of pure magic that would do sneak attacks by shooting lightning bolts while Renata fights. It’s small enough to flit behind an opponent’s line of sight and take them off guard. 

Small enough to sneak into the castle without anyone none the wiser. 

So Sherrie nodded. “That’s a good move. You’re safely far away from the castle and you can remotely dispel Leanan if it gets dicey.” 

“Yup! Look at my one braincell go!” Renata cheered. “If I keep this up and give it plenty of water and sunlight, maybe it’ll grow!” 

Sherrie burst out laughing alongside her sister. Her joke took her off guard. Hopefully their laughter didn’t wake up their mother and Lucien. 

Sherrie hiccups and wipe the tears from the corner of her eye. It feels nice to talk to her sister again.  

She misses her disaster of sister already. 

“Anyway, I need to hit the bed soon.” Renata said, breaking her train of thought. “I’ll do my best to gather as much info as I can about the ongoings inside the castle for you. Are there any heads up you want me to look for?” 

Sherrie smiles brightly and reply, “Of course! If you could, be a dear and get everything about father’s... other wife. Everything - right down to the most boring shits.”

“On it.” 

-

That first-year Diasomnia student has been the talk around campus for weeks now. 

Not only is she the only girl in Night Raven College, word on the streets quickly spreads that she’s look too similar to one of the previous Dorm Leader of Diasomnia to not be related. 

Staring at her while she’s busy taking a selfie of the Great Seven statues, he agrees that the similarities are too uncanny. 

Now, why would he sends his own Princess to a villain school without any retainer? 

That, and why under a different surname? 

Something’s not right. 

Renata MC/S brought with her an interesting mystery to Night Raven College. A mystery that caught his interest at the first whiff of her scent. And oh Great Seven, her delectable scent. The first time his nose caught that mouthwatering smell, it had his tail swishing in eager and his head spinning. 

It’s the scent of his favourite flower - blood lily - with a hint of something... otherworldly. He still can’t quite put words into it. 

He wants to unravel her. Understand what makes her tick. 

Uncover what she’s hiding. 

Four days later in History class, Professor Trein gave him - and Renata - their golden ticket. 

“Kingscholar, MC/S - you two will be partners for this assignment. I expect you two have no objection.” 

“It’s fine...” 

“I don’t have a problem with the arrangement, professor.” 

The professor nodded and class is dimiss. Students began making their way out of the room. Except for him... and her. 

Renata steps in front of his desk when they finally have the class all to themselves. He takes a good, long look at her. 

She’s certainly beautiful; a real heartbreaker. But there’s something interesting within her bright green eyes. Something volatile. He wonders what could it really be. 

“Hi there. So you’re Bakari Kingscholar, hmm? Hope we can ace this assignment without any problem.” Renata said with a small smile. Is she trying to be friendly? Because it just looks condescending as hell. 

But that just makes this a lot more fun. 

“Same here. Girl or not, I won’t let it slide if you prove to be a dead weight.” 

His warning clearly took her off guard with the how her smile froze. It was only for a moment though, before she let out a laugh. As if he just told a funny joke. 

“Kitty-cat is flexing his claws, huh?” Renata had the audacity to grin. The other Savanaclaw students would’ve lowered their heads at his tone. “Don’t worry. Do your part and I promise I won’t light your tail on fire.” 

Oh, his old man needs to know about this girl. 

-

You have no idea how much fun it is to write about Malleus and MC’s children! Especially the Princessess. Unfortunately, they’re more like Malleus than they or MC even realise it. Anyway, my main reference for SD/N is none other than... TADA! Fyodor Dostoevsky from BSD!

It’s just that Sherrie is a lot more lazy and rather keep to herself and stay at home. She only goes out of her to way to mess with people because of Renata and her tendecies to get into trouble.  

I’m still thinking on the draft for part 3 so we’ll see how that goes. Also, I was struggling wether to name Leona’s son or not. I think that honoured should go to @tri3tri​! 

[justgenshinstuf]

If requests are still open, Klee, Qiqi, Diona, and Tortelini?

Nanny Tartaglia, yay! Thank you for your request. I had some fun with it if you don’t mind, hehe :3

Team Headcanons: Tartaglia, Klee, Qiqi, Diona

You asked Tartaglia to help your friends out on a mission while you had to attend some business in Liyue for a few days. Helping city folk with their usual errands was pretty boring, so you wanted them to clear some dungeons, that were on your list for some time, instead.

Childe was eager to help you out. First of all, it was you who asked him. And second, he would never refuse an opportunity to do some extra fighting. It’s like working overtime, but actually satisfying.

He came into your room at the Inn to meet up with the rest of the team, but when he opened the door no one was seemingly there. Is this the right one? He looked around in confusion.

«Ahem!» He looked down, startled by the sudden annoyed cough. There was a girl.. a cat.. girl.. person.. staying right in front of him, her colourful tail swinging back and forth in irritation. «So you are that guide Traveler assigned to escort us? Pff.. I told them we can handle it ourselves».

Diona grabbed her bow and walked right past Tartaglia into the hallway, while he paused in utter confusion. A guide? Assigned to escort? What the…

«Hey, are you slow or something?» The cat-girl hailed him, visibly getting impatient, tapping her little foot. «The girls are waiting outside, hurry up».

Okay, so this was new. Childe could almost perfectly visualise your cunning little face. Was it to get back at him for that other time? Well, it didn’t matter, the job needed to get done. And now he was on his way ‘escorting’ Qiqi (okay, the purple one), Diona (the angry cat one) and what was it… Klee (the hyper one).

It wasn’t entirely a new experience. Tartaglia has exactly three younger siblings back at home, so he knows the gig. But caring for three kids at the same time wasn’t really the experience he would dream to go back to. Childe adored his brothers and sisters of course, but he also could remember quite well how hard it is to manage children. This is going to be a long trip…

K: Brother Tartilya, look what I have! T: It’s Tar-ta-glia. Wait, is that a bomb?!

T: Qiqi, please, I’ve told you not to put hands in your mouth. T: … T: Klee, why are you okay with her eating your hand?

D: You can’t even hold your bow right, what a loser! T: Yeah? Well, please, show me how it’s done, little lady, I’m VERY interested. D: *shoots a bird on the fly* T: …Okay, no snacks for you, kitten.

T: Qiqi, why are you laying on the ground face down? Q: I’m dead. T: Yeah, I know, that’s not what I asked.

T: If you can hear me, clap your hands! T: WAIT, KLEE, NOT YOU! *BOOM*

T: *draws a circle on the ground* T: This here is the TIME-OUT zone. If you misbehave you go in th… Qiqi, why are you in the time-out circle? Q: I’m tired. T: Well, okay. Klee? K: I put a bomb in your tent… T: You WHAT?! D: I’m not going in the circle, but I put a dead fish on it. K: Bomb-fish! Ha-ha~

T: Qiqi, for the last time, there is no Cocogoat. D: He is lying, I told you! T: Diona, stop encouraging her! Klee, sunshine, don’t be sad, what’s wrong? Okay, please don’t cry. Okay, okay, I’ll get you cocogoat-milk, but after we are finished here.

T: *pinching the bridge of his nose* T: Okay, one more time. What’s my name? K: Tartalini. T: Wrong. Next. Q: Tartaleto. T: No. D: Don’t even look at me, Tarta-i-don’t-care-glia. K: Tortillia. T: Nope. K and Q: Tortini. Tartata. Tartaloni. Tarantula. Tartoloni. Tartalinio. Tarlaya. T: *sigh* Okay, just call me Childe. D: HA! Child!

T: Klee, I can’t fix your ponytails if you won’t stay still! T: Diona, stop shooting pigeons! T: Qiqi… Wait, where is Qiqi?!

T: *coming back to the camp after clearing the area from hillichurls with Qiqi and Klee* T: Pour me one. D: 100 mora. T: 50 mora and make it on the rocks. They are the most destructive creatures I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen enough.

When they were finally done with all the missions, cleared all the dungeons and got the treasure, it was time to meet with you in the city.

Tartaglia looked a bit tired, but all the girls seemed more than happy and as energetic as ever. You all went out for a dinner in Wanmin Restaurant to celebrate.

«So, how did it go? Did you get along?» You asked with a genuine smile. You must admit, Tartaglia looked kind of cute with the kids. And they all seemed to love him, Qiqi sitting in his lap behind the table and Klee showing him something she found… Oh, it’s a lizzard… Well, anyway. Even Diona didn’t seem so glum, and that was quite unusual around strangers.

«Brother Child is cool! You should’ve seen how we fought the bad guys, it was like BOOM! SPLASH! BAM!» Klee explained excitedly, making some wild motions in the air with her hands.

«It was fun. Treasure hoarders freeze funny with Hydro» Qiqi added shyly, looking into her plate. «Brother Tartaglia found the cocogoat too».

«Yeah, I guess he’s alright. No complaints here». Diona added reluctantly. You could swear you’ve seen Childe pass her some mora under the table.

«And he promised to join us for the next mission too!» Klee said with the biggest smile, jumping up and down in excitement in her chair.

«Oh, really?» You laughed, taking a glance at the Grand Babysitter himself. He was sitting calmly with the kindest smile you’ve ever seen from him yet.

«Yeah, but you are coming too, my dear y/n!»

[rodeo-boots]

Hello hello!!💖💖😊 hope you're doing alright and your day's going fine and smoothly over there, dear!😊🌺💐🌻🌹🌺💐🌻🌹

For writing requests, can I request a morbell story??☺ at the first of chapter 2 when gang is going to live in horseshoe overlook, Dutch sends Micah with Lenny to Strawberry and then something happens which ends with Micah in jail. But I want it to be 'Dutch sends Arthur with Micah to Strawberry' so! Just imagine what will happen😆👀. Boys probably end up in jail anyway but I think..maybe with Arthur, Micah would act different..?

Fluff is always welcome and I don't mind smut too at all! And I'm ok with any tags too like blood/gore, angst, different kinks or..

Love you and thank you soo soo much!💜💗💜

I'm sorry this took a hundred years, but I still hope you'll enjoy this!! I hope you've had some wonderful days yourself, Merry <33

Rating: T

Words: 2221

Warnings: one instance of a homophobic slur, off-screen murder

AO3

––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Dutch and his plans. His great plans that had gotten them in this entire mess to begin with. Arthur couldn't believe him these days, could only watch in bafflement as his mentor spoke one ridiculous idea after the other; but this one took the cake.

Why have a safe operation for once, right? Why send Arthur and Lenny to scout ahead and make sure West Elizabeth wasn't all swarmed by Pinkertons when you could have Micah, the very man who had gotten them in this situation to begin with. The man who's judgement had led them astray and towards the butchered ferry job in Blackwater, who's fantastic information had killed several of their people – with no telling if Mac and Sean were still out there, somewhere.

Obviously, Arthur had objected the instant he's heard what he was supposed to do. He had tried to talk to Dutch, to explain that Micah would find a way to turn even the easiest scouting mission into a bloodbath. Really, he had tried everything to convince him otherwise, to send him alone, for Goodness sake, but to no avail. Dutch's mind was made, and so he let his two best men ride out, in pursuit of information or fortune or anything, Arthur hadn't cared to ask.

–

"Oh, don't soil your britches, princess," Micah held onto Baylock's reins with a loose grip, his grin lopsided where he glanced at Arthur from the corners of his eyes. Of course had he caught onto his less than ideal mood, ever the observant type as he was. "We'll be havin' fun at the end of the day, I promise." His voice was syrupy sweet, almost sickeningly so, though Arthur had stopped listening to him a long time ago either way, staring ahead and onto the road in an attempt to accept his current fate.

He answered the man with a grunt, not overly eager to amuse himself. If it was up to him, they'd be in and out of the settlement within an hour, would take a look around and go, without being noticed in the best of cases. Those seemed rare these days, though.

"Lighten up." Arthur flinched when the man tossed him a bottle, barely catching it in his hands, an irritated gaze meeting Micah's smirking visage. The booze in Arthur's hands certainly wasn't the best, moonshine with a questionable label, glinting copper under the sunlight. His eyebrows furrowed, but he kept the bottle either way.

Maybe it was just what he needed now, a welcome distraction from the day Micah had planned for them to enjoy. Arthur was certain he'd enjoy it all the more if he witnessed as little of it as possible.

He uncapped the bottle, squeezing his eyes shut as the liquor burned down his throat, tipping it back further before tossing it aside. The glass shattered at the side of the road, Micah's own likely joining the shards where they lay, the man already reaching for another drink from his bottomless saddlebags. "See? Much better already." And this time, Arthur couldn't help but return his grin.

Arthur had been unable to keep track of time, with Micah's unrelenting talk, the bottles he passed him along the way. Strawberry was drawing closer by the moment and he knew it, traffic higher with every further step. It seemed to be a busy town, workers passing them by without a glance, whistling as they did the tasks of the day. Oh, how Arthur wished he could lead a life like theirs at times.

"You up for a meal, Morgan?" Micah clambered off his horse, shooting him another bright expression, his lids appearing heavier by the liquor he had consumed already.

"Dying of starvation," Arthur mumbled, a little heavier and slower as he dismounted his mare, holding onto the saddle to keep himself from falling gracelessly. He seriously had to overthink his approach to the drink some time, not as used to booze as he had been in his better days, wiping at his brow now before trailing after Micah and towards the hotel.

Even though they were new in the area, Micah seemed to know his way around, greeting the man behind the counter like an old friend before ordering their meals. Arthur didn't understand how he was standing straight after drinking all the way here, he himself barely holding onto the back of a chair. Hopefully with something in his stomach, his head would stop spinning again.

"Now, Mr. Morgan–" Micah waved his arm around in a great gesture of chivalry, pulling a chair out for Arthur to take. "Will you take this seat, and sit down with me?"

He grunted, plopping down onto the hard wood. Maybe if he followed along without complaint, Micah would take mercy on him and spare him more of his bluster. A single look at his self-satisfied smirk was enough for him to tell that that wouldn't be the case, however.

Their plates had emptied at a rapid pace, Arthur scarfing his food down eagerly, enlivened by the taste and the sensation of something in his stomach – something more agreeable than the liquor. He was chewing his second to last bite by now, glancing over and towards Micah and his plate with a furrowed brow. "Y'ain't hungry?" He asked, swallowing before he rubbed at the corner of his mouth. "S'real good–"

Micah had his eyes set on something else already, waving at him to be quiet before turning with a secretive stare. "You up for a game?" He asked, his drunkenness slowly manifesting in the drag of his voice, though the glint in his eyes was prominent as always.

Arthur shrugged, placing the fork in his hands aside, his gaze following the other man's. Upon seeing what he was seeing, however, his cheeks heated up in a cherry red, Arthur averting his eyes all at once. "The hell you on about?" He grumbled in irritation, not looking back at the woman Micah had focused on. Or rather, her cleavage.

"I bet'chu, I can hit her right in between those beauties." The corners of his mouth quirked up further, Micah taking his own fork in hand to prepare it as a makeshift catapult.

"You finally lost it now?" But Arthur couldn't help watching, not moving to stop the man as he took aim, his tongue peeking out between pursed lips. One second the fork was still loaded with mashed potato, the next, Micah tossed his head back with a shattering laugh, a scandalized gasp from the other table indicating that he had hit his target dead on.

The woman stood all at once, forcefully enough to make her chair tumble to the ground, not letting herself be stopped by the man at her side as she marched out of the building. Her face had been colored by embarrassment, by disgust, and while Arthur had every intention to feel bad for her, he couldn't. Instead, he found himself laughing along with Micah, giggling like the drunken fool he was, having to hold onto the wooden table as to not keel over.

–

Micah was a man of many ideas; few of them good. He seemed keen on seeing how far they could go before being kicked out of the establishment, doing the most in making those around him uncomfortable to elicit a response, Arthur rising to the challenge by doing just the same.

"Y'know what I could do?" Micah whispered, leaning closer to him as though his words were confidential, the lopsided nature of his smirk indicating that they were truly meant for all to hear. "Could lay you out on this table." His hand wandered up Arthur's thigh from where it had formerly rested upon his knee. He hadn't even noticed that. "I could fuck you silly for all these fine folks to see," he smiled, satisfied with the blush spreading over Arthur's cheeks and the tips of his ears.

He pushed the hand off his leg, keeping hold of the other man's wrist. "If that's what you want, I might just lay you out instead," he grumbled, though the threat within his words was lost in the slur of his voice. "Punch you out, s'what I mean."

They stared at one another for a tense few moments, Arthur's grip remaining firm around Micah's wrist.

With a sputtering laugh, he had to let go, however, shaking his head and reaching up to rub his eyes. Micah was quick to follow along, cackling like a maniac in his own right, even if his own words hadn't been all empty.

"C'mon, let's get outta here." Micah pat his knee in encouragement, grunting when he pushed himself to his legs. "I'm bored," he added, his eyes glinting mischievously. Arthur didn't care for his oncoming plans now, either way, keen on leaving the hotel to spare himself of further embarrassment, uncertain as to what he might've done already.

The past minutes, or hours, weren't as prominent in his brain as he would've liked, the influence of the drink undeniable in his every action. He didn't pass the bar-man another look, following after Micah as he ducked through the door, squinting when his eyes were met with darkness instead of the sun he had expected.

"How late's it?" He slurred, glancing at Micah in uncertainty, not at all remembering when or if Dutch would expect them back at camp.

Micah tugged him down the stairs, the grip he had on his sleeve almost desperately hard. "Don't worry your pretty little head," he cooed, glancing back at Arthur with an almost alluring gaze, pulling him closer to offer him some more stability. "We got all the time we need." But Micah's eyes were no longer trained to his. Instead, he had focused on his lips, licking his own almost nervously.

"I always meant to tell you, Arthur–" his hold started to feel a lot more like an embrace, Arthur swallowing lightly as he watched the emotions pass over the other man's face. He was much too drunk to make sense of them, releasing a tense chuckle when Micah didn't continue.

"Meant to tell me what?" He eventually asked, his own arms slowly smoothing around the other man's frame. From this angle, he almost looked good, less crazed than what Arthur usually saw of him, more like the person he kept hidden from plain view in front of everyone else.

He didn't receive an answer, blinking in bafflement when Micah leaned in to press his lips against his own.

Arthur stood frozen for a couple moments, unsure if this was yet another game of his, another attempt to make the people around them uneasy like they had succeeded in doing before.

Micah didn't pull away with a smirk at his lips, however, in fact, he didn't pull away at all, deepening the kiss instead. He tilted his head, moving his lips so uncharacteristically sweet against Arthur's own that he had no choice but to melt.

His hands pulled the man closer, their bodies flush, chests pressing against one another. It was like a lover's embrace, like the last thing Arthur had ever expected to share, least of all with Micah Bell. Here and now, it felt more than just right, though.

He pulled away with a soft exhale, brushing a strand of hair out of the other man's eyes, his motions gentle. "What was that all about?" He asked, though his tone wasn't teasing. If anything, he wanted to know if he understood correctly, wanted to be certain that Micah had enjoyed this kiss for more reasons than his drunkenness; the question of a possible repetition already sitting on the tip of his tongue.

Before he could formulate any of his thoughts, however, another voice broke the tranquility around them.

"If that ain't van der Linde's very special queens," the man slurred himself, the Irish accent still clear in his tone of voice. "This is O'Driscoll territory, we ain't wanna see the likes of you perverts 'round here." Arthur had heard worse in his life, not expecting anything better from the likes of Colm's boys. But a look into Micah's eyes was enough to tell, that he wasn't about to let this slide.

He loosened his hold on Arthur, turning to the man slowly, his stare narrowed at the O'Driscoll. "Run that by me one more time?" His voice was low, the shyness from before wiped clear away now that he was facing the person who had seemingly ruined their moment.

Without Micah's assistance in standing, Arthur plopped down to the muddy ground, staring at the man's back until the spinning of his head became too much. He laid back, letting Micah handle this on his own, smiling dumbly at the distant thought of him protecting his honor.

The shots were faint, just like the voices drawing closer once they had pierced the silence, once they likely had pierced the O'Driscoll's skull just as much.

Arthur felt Micah's presence by his side again, the man dropping down next to him, tossing his weapons aside mindlessly. "Guess that marks the end'a our night," he chimed, his voice drowning out the calls of the sheriff, the law cautiously surrounding them. "I told you we'd have fun, though," Micah spoke up again, chuckling at this small success of the day.

[forestwater87]

Chapter 14: Coming Clean

Summary: Finally.

Summer 2017

Oh my god.

It’s okay, a gentle voice in the back of Gwen’s head murmured, the one that was supposed to be all the best things she was capable of. This is good; you wanted him to move on.

Oh my god

It’s a little sooner than you expected, but rebounds aren’t inherently a bad idea.

Oh MY GOD

Even if it is, it’s none of your business anymore.

She was still clinging to the front of David’s shirt. Her brain tried to send out orders to her fingers, tried to relax the stranglehold she had on the fabric but her hands were claws, inflexible and unyielding as talons and she couldn’t do it, couldn’t —

No no no no no nononononononono NO

Let him go, Gwen.

The silence spiraled out; she didn’t know how long, lost in the cacophony of her own head. She was faintly aware of a woman’s voice, soft and honey-smooth and warm with concern: “Davey . . . should I head on out?”

“Um.” David shifted away, stepping back into the doorframe just enough to cover her hands with his. “Just — uh, just a second, Clem. Could you . . .”

“Sure! I wanted to take a gander at the lake anyway. Been so long since I’ve been down this way. Just give me a holler when — well, whenever?”

No. God, no.

She was not going to stand in the way of his happiness again — she couldn’t.

David stumbled back as Gwen shoved him away, swiping the tears and snot from her face with the back of her hand. “Don’t —” she began, but her throat closed up almost immediately, a sob she just barely kept inside shuddering through her. “I didn’t . . . I’m sorry, I’ll just — it’s fine — goodnight —”

Her shoulder knocked into the woman (the intruder, a nasty, wounded part of her whined) as she hurried into the hallway. She gasped, the sound delicate and lightweight like cotton candy, and Gwen’s attention landed on her for a split second.

She . . . knew her. Somehow. There weren’t that many people in the area, and even fewer with big turquoise eyes and bubblegum hair.

A waitress, right? At the pizza place — no, the bar.

Gwen remembered teasing David about her, on one of their rare nights out a few summers and an entire lifetime ago:

“Come on, ask her out!”

“Gwen, please!” He’d ducked his head with a helpless giggle, his face almost as pink as the waitress’s hair; she remembered thinking he was adorable — what a shame it was that no one had snapped him up yet.

“You liiiike her.” She didn’t know that, not for certain, but who wouldn’t? She was perfect.

“I- no I don’t!”

“Liar.”

The cute waitress’s mouth opened, her brow crinkling like she had something to say, and Gwen couldn’t stand to hear it. Stumbling back, she felt blindly for her bedroom door before realizing it was behind them, behind the pretty pink pixie and the most important person in Gwen’s life.

His eyes met hers, big and confused and green in the yellowish lamplight. His mouth, a streak of pink lip gloss smearing across his bottom lip and fading toward his jaw.

Liar.

(That wasn’t fair. She knew it wasn’t.

But her heart didn’t give much of a damn about fair right then.)

She retreated back toward the common room, tripping over something — a book, a shoe, the random detritus of two people’s lives tangled together — and barely catching herself on the table. The back door wouldn’t be locked, because that was one of David’s jobs

(and he was busy, distracted)

and she didn’t have a flashlight but that was okay, the darkness would be a relief she just needed to get out out out out —

“Gwen!” David’s fingers closed around her upper arm, tugging her to a stop. She could break his grip — her fingers twitched with the desire to grab something and beat him over the head with it until he let her go — but in her moment of hesitation he took her other arm, swung her around gently so they were facing each other. “Gwen, sit down, okay? Just take a seat.”

“It’s fine —” She shrugged free, backing up against the door, but it opened inward and David was in her way so she couldn’t shove it open. Her legs gave out and she slumped to the floor, drawing her knees up to her chest and trying to remember how breathing worked. “Don’t — just . . . check your messages, okay? Later, when you’re not . . . just — there was something I needed to tell you, that’s all. That’s why I was there.”

He glanced back toward the front of the cabin, then sighed and knelt down in front of her. They were alone in a pocket of gloom, the only light coming from the hallway glowing like a beacon, a hallway where his

(friend? girlfriend? booty call?)

was waiting for him to wrap things up with his crazy ex-girlfriend so they could enjoy their evening.

A few summers and a lifetime ago she would’ve been delighted if David brought someone home for the night. Delighted, and endlessly amused; she would’ve never let him live it down.

A few summers and a lifetime ago she was a better person. “You’ve got something on your face.”

He rubbed at his mouth with the heel of one hand, grimacing, and wiped the gloss off on his leg without looking away from her. “Gwen.” He kept saying her name, like he thought it would ground her — like the sound of it didn’t tear through her chest like a shotgun blast every time. “What were you doing in my room?”

She took a deep breath. “I needed to tell you . . .” This was okay. She could say what he needed to know: that he was a good person, that he’d done nothing wrong. That he could move on without carrying ‘might almost be a rapist’ around his neck like an albatross. “Last night.”

He flinched. It broke her heart all over again.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, David.” The words tripped over themselves in a hurry to get out as fast as possible, like they were as desperate to reach for him as she was. “I wanted you to kiss me. You — didn’t hurt me. At all.” She tightened her hold on her knees, lowering her cheek to rest on them. “Okay?”

“What? I . . . no, it’s not okay.” He frowned and sat back. The gulf between them widened a few inches, a few miles. “I don’t . . . are you saying — but you told me to stop.”

She shook her head, wishing she could change everything about herself. “I told you not to stop.” When the furrow between his eyebrows deepened, she shrugged helplessly, fighting the absurd urge to giggle at the ridiculousness of the situation. “I just — it was poor breath control. Made a pause where there shouldn’t’ve been one.” Proof that her two years studying vocal performance in college were a waste of time and money; the stupid hilarity in her chest tightened, and she pushed down a laugh with effort. “I would’ve explained sooner, but I didn’t know . . . that.” She paused and licked her lips, took another shaky breath — because she still didn’t have good breath control, clearly. “Was what you were freaked out about. So I’m sorry.”

And she was.

For that, and for everything else.

David didn’t reply for a few seconds, and with every breath the darkness of the room seemed to settle in deeper, grow thick and heavy. “You . . . wanted me to kiss you,” he repeated, doubt etched into every word like claw marks in stone. She longed desperately to smooth them away and didn’t know how. “But you — why would you ever want that?”

Gwen let out a huff, something between a groan and a laugh. “Who cares why? I just — it doesn’t matter, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong, you don’t have to feel guilty about anything, so just . . . go and — have a good time.” She pushed herself to her feet, suddenly exhausted.

She didn’t want to have this conversation. It could wait until tomorrow, or never.

She just needed to get out of here.

“Wait, Gwen —” He reached for her, his fingers brushing against her wrist, and she yanked her arm to her chest.

“Listen, she’s gonna leave soon if she hasn’t already. No one wants to wait around while their . . . whatever talks to his . . .” She couldn’t finish that sentence. Couldn’t say out loud what they weren’t anymore. “Go. I’ll be okay,” she added, softening her voice so it sounded less harsh, less raw.

If he needed to believe she was fine with him moving on, she’d figure out how to pretend to be fine.

David sighed, swiping his hand down his face before nodding and glancing back toward the hallway. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something else — like there was anything they had left to say to each other — but shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re not done,” he finally said, stepping away from her.

Her heart leapt even as her brain knew what those words meant — and didn’t mean. “Of course not,” she replied, trying as hard as possible to keep her voice steady. “Counselor Buddies For Life, right?”

He paused for another moment. The light fell across half of his face, throwing harsh black shadows that sliced the other half into a patchwork of dark grays and glowing, luminescent almost-white. There was no reason the sight should make her tenuous grasp of self-control slip away, except that he was beautiful and he was perfect and he wasn’t hers.

“Go,” she snapped, too loud — if that waitress was still out there she probably jumped. Tears crowded hot and aching in her throat, and she couldn’t wait for him to do what she said so she shoved past him for the second time that night, staggered into the hallway where the woman was still waiting, patiently and politely playing on her phone like she hadn’t been listening. Gwen bumped into her for the second time that night, not bothering to return her startled and unnecessary apology, and slammed her door shut. She moved a chair under the door handle, something that made little logical sense but gave her a tiny sliver of security, and made it all the way to her bed before the first sob tore out of her chest.

She put in earphones, pulled a pillow over her head for good measure, and cried until exhaustion finally, finally pulled her under.

---

It wasn’t morning when she woke up. The room was still dark — even when she pulled the pillow off her face and sat up, the weak moonlight was gone, the night still and empty and buried in deep shadows. She grabbed her phone to check the time, bracing herself in preparation of the screen’s blinding glare.

scraaape

Thunk.

rattlerattlerattle

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunkthunkthunkthunkthunk

“Gwen? Are you there?”

She sat up, her phone forgotten. After a moment of silence the sounds continued, and she silently hopped out of bed, padding over to the window. She pulled open the curtain, squinting to see into the darkness. “David?”

He scrambled backward with a shriek, tripping over his feet and tumbling to the ground; the crowbar he’d jammed under Gwen’s window frame stayed in place, quivering like a plucked string.

“Oh!” He climbed to his feet, catching the crowbar as she opened the window. “Good mor — I mean.” Coughing awkwardly, he looked down at his feet, tapping the crowbar against the toe of one boot.

Her brain still foggy with sleep, she tried shaking her head to clear it. “Did you lock yourself out?” It’d happened before, but usually he just called . . .

She suddenly remembered the phone in her hand. It didn’t respond to her touch, the screen black and dead, and she vaguely remembered turning it off when it wouldn’t stop buzzing at her.

Right. Oops.

“Not exactly.” It was weird, having a civil conversation with her co-counselor through the window of her cabin, but it was an almost-nice kind of weird. A normal kind of weird. “You weren’t answering your phone or the door, and I couldn’t get it open so I —” His voice dropped to a murmur, and his shape in the darkness shuffled its feet like he was embarrassed. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Okay.

Yeah, she was okay all right. That was Gwen: an endless font of okay. “I locked the door because I wanted to keep you out,” she snapped, which wasn’t quite the truth; what she wanted to keep out wasn’t David but his questions, his worry, his lovely face and the warm buzz of afterglow from someone who wasn’t her. “I put a chair under the handle, David. Take the hint.”

He paused for a second, and she was relieved there wasn’t any moonlight to illuminate the hurt on his face. “I — I know,” he mumbled, sounding sheepish. “When I picked the lock I could tell. That’s why I —”

“You picked the lock?” Gwen wanted her response to that to be horror, fury — but the closest she could muster was a faint simmering blend of disbelief and amusement. “They teach that in Boy Scouts now?”

“It’s a valuable skill! And when I was a junior counselor there was a camper who liked spy novels . . .” He trailed off, and as the heat of his embarrassment cooled what was left behind was a sickening sense of corrupted normalcy; the ashes of a genuine conversation, one they would’ve had if everything hadn’t fallen apart, congealed into awkward silence. “Can I come in?”

“It’s the middle of the night, David.”

His outline lifted its chin, the same hard stubborn set she associated with terrible camp ideas, and her heart twisted horribly. “I — not to be unkind, Gwen, but you owe me this conversation. And we can’t . . . I can’t keep going on like this. So . . . please.”

This conversation was what she wanted, what she’d sprinted into his bedroom to have because she couldn’t stand putting it off another second. Now that it stood directly in front of her, she wanted nothing more than to delay again.

But he deserved better.

She sighed, stepping back from the window and moving toward the light switch. “Fine.”

When she turned back around, flinching at the sudden invasion of fluorescent light, David had one leg over her windowsill, ducking through the small opening and wriggling his way into the room. “What?” he asked, face reddening as she stared at him. “It . . . it was faster than going around the cabin.”

Gwen wanted to laugh. She wanted to pull him against her and kiss his forehead and fix his hair where the window frame had messed it up and she couldn’t do any of those things so she turned her phone on, watching the logo glow to slow and bleary life. It was barely 1:30; she hadn’t been asleep for more than an hour. “Where’s . . .” She gestured at her hair without looking up, realizing too late that she shouldn’t draw attention to the tangled mop on top of her head (and how little it looked like a diaphanous cloud of pink silk). “What’sername?”

He cleared his throat. “She, um — she went home.”

“That was fast.” The words left her mouth before her brain had fully processed them — stupid words, awful words, words she could’ve said to tease her best friend back when they still were best friends but that weren’t okay to say now , not after everything. She’d been lulled by the uncomfortable domesticity, the weird holding pattern they were trapped in now that some of the truth had slipped free and she didn’t have to be quite so careful. She felt more than saw him recoil, a little flash of movement in the corner of her eye that could’ve been nothing but was almost certainly a wince, and she dropped her phone onto her desk a little too roughly, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “Sorry, I —”

“We didn’t.” He looked as horrified to blurt the words out as Gwen had been just a second ago, and he broke their gaze first, scuffing his boot along the carpet. The pretty flush darkening his cheeks was spreading down his neck and up to his ears, slow and sweet like a honey spill, and the urge to chase it with her tongue made her knees wobble. He swallowed and added, “do, y’know — gosh, I just couldn’t. A-anyway, she wanted to see the camp before leaving, so that took . . . a little while, I don’t remember.” He laughed, awkward and higher-pitched than usual, and scratched the back of his neck. “She was really nice about it. Wouldn’t even let me pay for the cab back into town.”

Shame coiled heavily in her stomach, a thick and glossy snake. “I’m sorry I ruined your night,” she said honestly.

He shrugged, still not making eye contact. “I mean, jeez, it probably wasn’t the best idea anyway.” Gwen realized he’d been drinking. Not much, and he had to be sobering up fast, but his “aw shucks”isms multiplied exponentially when he was tipsy. It was one of the most cruelly adorable things about him, and she hated herself for knowing that, for recognizing it and loving him even more. “I just needed . . .” He groaned and shook his head, tugging his fringe upright. “You said you wanted me to kiss you. H- how come?”

The sudden change of topic gave her whiplash until her brain put together the missing pieces. Tonight hadn’t just been a rebound: he’d needed to go home with someone he actually knew wanted him. It wasn’t just for an ego boost or out of touch starvation, but to prove to himself that he could tell the difference between a yes and a no.

And she felt it again — love and compassion and pity and self-loathing and despair — a quagmire of feelings so powerful they made her sick to her stomach, and because she was herself, a hateful monster shaped by heartbreak, instead of softening her voice to match the way she felt about him she hardened it, snapped, “Because I did,” like she was frustrated with his stupidity when what she was actually frustrated with, what she really despised and wanted to tear apart with her fingernails, was her own unloveable, broken self. “I made the first move — because I wanted to. No other fucking reason.”

“Why?”

It was just like when she’d told him she’d almost cheated on him, the day their relationship fell apart — except instead of betrayal quavering in his voice, there was something dangerously close to hope. It scared her. Pissed her off. “Feelings aren’t like a light switch, David! Getting over you is —” Impossible. “— taking more time than I thought.”

“But why?” And this time he didn’t sound small or hopeful; there was a dark, furious bite to his voice that rivaled her own. “The feelings should — they’re already gone, aren’t they? Wasn’t that the entire point?”

“No!” she cried, digging her fingernails into her palms to keep from raking them down her own face. This was what she’d dreaded: the agonizing task of trying to make him understand. “They weren’t gone when we broke up, and they aren’t fucking gone now!” This wasn’t right; she’d wanted to keep things simple and to the point: she wanted him, he shouldn’t ever want her, so logic dictated they couldn’t be together. What was all so simple and clean in her head kept coming out ragged and snarled like fraying yarn. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut against tears.

God, she couldn’t even walk away from him properly.

“What was supposed to happen?”

This would be infinitely more bearable if he wasn’t so fucking nice. “We were supposed to survive the summer,” she said, unable to hold back a harsh noise that was supposed to be a laugh but felt like a sob, “and then you’d go back home and move on. Maybe hire a new cocounselor and fall in love with them. I don’t know!” Her voice rose, both in pitch and volume, and she had to force herself back to something that sounded even remotely normal. “You were supposed to get away from me.”

Like he almost had tonight.

Before she’d ruined it.

Again.

Misery tightened around her throat, a choker made of bloody thorns.

His voice was soft, barely a fraction of his normal speaking tone, but it made her jump nonetheless: “And what about you?”

She shrugged listlessly. “I don’t know,” she replied, her lips strangely numb and tingling, like she’d smeared her gums with Novocain. He was trying to get her to share something real, was using open-ended questions and everything; she’d taught him that trick, a leftover from one of her many useless degrees, but she was too tired to fight the urge to finally be honest. “Go back home and meet someone broken and fucked-up enough to deserve me. Just . . . go back to normal, I guess.”

“Oh, Gwen.” She felt David step closer, the wood floor creaking and shifting under his weight, the sunlit warmth of his body creeping into her orbit, and he sounded the way he did when talking to their more difficult campers; it was his “we can work out a solution together” voice, and panic constricted her chest because it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. His fingers brushed against her cheek, gently wiping away tears she hadn’t even noticed. “Why don’t you think you deserve to be happy?”

“You know why!” Gwen jerked back, because the touch of his skin against hers sparked her nerve endings and she had to either move towards him or away, and only one of those options was acceptable right then. She took a shaky breath, swiping at her face to try and stop the hot flow of tears down her cheeks. “You saw what I’m like outside of here. Maybe I’m important at some shitty backwater camp, but in the real world? I can’t even m-make my family —” She pressed her lips together, breathing in heavily through her nose. She was going to get through this. She owed it to him to get through this. “Ever since you visited I’ve been . . . waiting, I guess? For the other shoe to drop, for you to put it together that I’m not — and I tried to be good enough, I really fucking did, but it took a lot out of me. Too much. Waiting for you to come to your senses, trying and failing to be someone who could actually make you happy — trying to be happy, oh my god, do you have any idea how impossible that is for me?”

She was babbling. She could tell by the look on David’s face, by the slight furrow between his brows that he was trying to follow what she was saying but couldn’t, because she wasn’t making any goddamn sense.

Another deep breath. Time to try again.

“Earlier, like a week ago, before we — yeah. Whatever — I couldn’t get out of bed. Not like I was tired, or like I was sad or freaked out because I didn’t feel anything. I just couldn’t move. And I’ve done that before for days, David! I got fired once because I missed a week of shifts and couldn’t even call in sick. And that just happens sometimes, and for a while being with you was enough to get me out of bed but then it wasn’t and I don’t know how to pretend to be okay, okay?! I want to be — I wanna be normal and happy and anyone else but I can’t, and you don’t seem to get that yet but you will and I couldn’t stand waiting so I . . . ended it. Because somebody fucking has to.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach, shivering in the cool night air.

His hand brushed against her elbow, and she allowed herself to be ushered over to her bed, sat down and wrapped in blankets until she was warm again. And he was looking at her with the softest, warmest eyes, like he hadn’t heard a word she said properly because if he had he wouldn’t be staring at her like that, like she was some sort of beautiful broken doll he wanted to fix up and make pretty again.

But she couldn’t be made better. This was all there was.

And she didn’t know how to make him understand that she was a lost cause.

Gwen wasn’t sure how long she sat in her little blanket cocoon, staring at the floor and trying to find the words to explain how she was wrong for him — just wrong, period — but after a moment or an hour fingers brushed through her hair, suddenly appearing in her peripheral vision and making her jolt away.

“Sorry,” David murmured, drawing back for a second before returning his hand to her temple, gingerly unsticking her hair from the dried salt on her face and tucking it behind her ear. He didn’t meet her eyes, his expression stern and solemn and fully dedicated to this task, and when it was done he looked down at her hands and took one of them, sandwiching it between his own. “I wish you’d told me you felt like that.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” she said, managing a sad little huff of air that could almost be called a laugh. “I wanted you to think I was perfect.”

His answering smile was wan and sad, but heartrendingly genuine. “I do.”

The words jolted her into action, so discordant and wrong that she couldn’t sit still no matter how tired she was. She pulled out of his reach and climbed to her feet, letting the blankets fall away as she paced across the room. “How?!” she demanded, whirling on him and nearly tripping over the fabric strewn across the floor. “Were you even listening?”

“Of course I was!” he replied, indignant and hurt. “You have . . . struggles, but so does everybody —”

She rolled her eyes, kicking the blankets to the wall so she had more pacing room. “Yeah, struggles,” she repeated, bile coating her tongue. “Like this camp has struggles, right?” She ran her hands through her hair, forcing out a heavy breath to try and tame her anger — again. “You see everything in the best possible light, David. I love that about you —” Her voice caught; it was the first time the words “I” and “love” and “you” had been in the same sentence since she’d realized how she felt, and the force of it nearly knocked her breathless. “— but you can’t just pretend problems don’t exist because you don’t wanna see them! I tried that already, and guess what? It fucking makes things worse!”

“I’m not pretending! But there are ways to deal with — it’s not the end of the world. And you’re — you’re catastrophizing, Gwen. That’s not helpful, either!”

“‘Ways to deal with’ it? Like there are ‘ways to deal with’ Mr. Campbell being a fraud? Like your ‘ways to deal with’ Max?” He didn’t answer and she turned from him, stalking toward the other side of the room. It felt like she couldn’t get enough air, like the walls were closing in on her. “I know you like projects. People you can fix. But I can’t be fixed, okay? I’m just like this!”

“I don’t want to fix you,” he said. A frown line appeared between his eyebrows, and she wanted to kiss it smooth. “I don’t think you need to be fixed, Gwen.”

She groaned, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to squeeze away a headache or tears; it felt like she was on the verge of both. “Whatever you think you’re seeing in me just isn’t there. There isn’t anything worth seeing in me, and no amount of positive thinking is going to change that!”

“Gwen, stop!”

The suddenness of his shout made her freeze. He cleared his throat, his face flaming pink with embarrassment, but he met her gaze steadily.

“I’m not delusional,” he said, softer. “I know — I wish Mr. Campbell cared more about this camp. I wish this camp was everything it could be. I wish Max would give things here a chance, even just once. I know nothing’s perfect — I know that. But I also know you’re wrong about yourself, and you need to stop assuming you know what I think because you don’t!”

David took a step closer, holding out his hand uncertainly, like she was a deer he was afraid would bolt. She felt like a deer, frozen in the headlights of his warm, bright eyes.

“I don’t want to fix you,” he repeated. He moved close enough to stroke her cheek, cup the side of her face in his hand. “Or change you. All I want is to be with you — exactly like this. The way you are, right now.”

Tears stung her eyes, made him dissolve into a soft blur of her favorite colors. She looked away and took a deep, shaky breath. “Why?” she whispered, leaning into his palm. She knew she had to shove him away, tear the two of them apart with daggers until he learned to stop believing in her, but she was tired.

Tired, and so relieved to feel his touch it hurt.

He sighed but didn’t say anything until she turned back to him, the tears clinging to her lashes giving way and spilling down her cheeks. One of them skated into the divot his thumb made against her skin and he brushed it away gently, automatically. The look on his face was somewhere between awe and resignation, the bitter twist of his mouth so harsh against his soft, wide eyes. “Because I’m in love with you.”

Her breath caught.

Oh.

Her heart leapt into her throat, a dense lump of clay that ached just above the dip of her collarbone. She opened her mouth to reply but the lump swelled, choking, strangling any words that tried to surface.

He loves you! He loves you!

God, this was so much worse than she’d feared.

David stumbled back as she collided with his chest, twining her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his shoulder, gasping for breath as the lump in her throat gave way into water. After a moment’s hesitation he embraced her, one arm across her shoulder blades and one around the small of her back, and his warmth and smell and the gentle thrumming of his heart were like fresh air after months spent underground, beautiful and precious and necessary .

“I love — you too,” she sobbed into his shirt, barely able to form the words. “I — love you too, I’m — sorry, I’m so — sorry — I love you . . .”

“Gwen, it’s okay,” he murmured, smoothing his palm in wide circles over her back, “it’s fine, shh, don’t cry . . .” When her breathing returned to something resembling normal he pulled back, holding her by the shoulders like he was worried she’d bolt. Or like he couldn’t bear to break contact any more than she could. “Do you mean it? Do you really love me?”

The hope on his face — naked, tender, a little flame of joy so eager to leap into a blaze with the right stoking — lanced through her heart, because he still didn’t get it. A confession of love from her wasn’t something good , her love was poison —

But he was waiting for an answer and she couldn’t lie anymore. “Yeah,” she replied, swallowing hard to push back another wave of tears and then hiccupping when they came anyway. “I’m sorry.”

“Jeez, Gwen, why would you ever be sorry?”

She swiped at her face with her palms, smearing the tears around more than actually wiping them off. “That I — didn’t let you go . . . you deserve so much — better . . .”

He didn’t say anything, silence filling the air between each of her damp, pathetic sniffles, and finally she looked up to meet him. His expression was so full that it was hard to read, emotions jostling for room on his lovely, expressive face: confusion, concern for her, for her well-being (for her sanity, maybe). A tattered shred of his normal smile, like he was waiting for the punchline of a joke he didn’t understand yet. And there was joy flitting underneath it all, relief and love and more gentleness than she’d ever had pointed in her direction, more love than anyone had ever had in their eyes when they looked at her.

Then a shadow crossed his face, his eyes darkening like the surface of Lake Lilac during a storm, and the faint ghost of a smile disappeared.

“Why don’t I get to make that decision?” he asked. And there was a bite in his tone, a frisson of anger that cut through everything else and made her shiver. “How come you’re the only one who gets a say?”

Gwen fumbled for words like landmarks in a pitch-black room. “David, you’ve never — this was your first — you’re so . . .”

“‘Come to my senses,’” he repeated, his frown deepening as he looked away, at the wall, at nothing. “That’s what you said earlier, right? That I’d — that the only smart decision is to leave you, because nobody with a brain could . . . could know you and still want to be with you.”

She flinched, the flat, emotionless statement like needles against her skin because it was true and it was the realization she’d been dragging him toward and she still wasn’t prepared to hear it from him.

His hands fell from her shoulders, and the air cooled even further as he took a step back. She looked up and he crossed his arms over his chest, squaring his jaw.

“I still want to be here,” he said. His voice wobbled and he cleared his throat, so hard she felt it tearing her own, and the statement floated fat and pregnant in the air. So full of good possibilities but said with so much cold fury that it could only be a bomb waiting to go off. “So which is it, Gwen: is it that I don’t know you or that I don’t have a brain?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she managed, panic closing in and constricting around her ribcage.

“How did you mean it, then?” he snapped. His arms untangled and fell to his sides, hands curling into fists tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “Because it sounds to me like you think you’re the only one who’s allowed to make decisions about our relationship. You could’ve talked to me — I wanted you to talk to me! But you didn’t think I was . . . I don’t know, smart enough to see the real you? Able to do what’s best for me? Like I can’t know what I want?”

“You’ve never —”

He sliced one arm through the air, cutting her off instantly. “I know this is my first relationship, Gwen! I know that better than you do! Did you think this was — an, an accident? That I just stumbled into falling in love with you, like I didn’t know what I was doing? But I still can’t be trusted with what you’re really thinking and feeling — because I just won’t get it! Because I don’t know what it’s like to be sad.”

David laughed, hollow and humorless.

“What else do you think I can’t do? Should I not be allowed to light the campfire either? Or maybe I’m not smart enough to drive into town anymore — huh, Gwen?” His second laugh was sharper, damp with unshed tears. They made his eyes glisten as he looked back up at her, his face hard as stone. “Do you actually respect me at all? Or am I just a dumb kid to you?”

She felt sick. “Yes, I . . .” she began, then paused, tripping up over which part of the question she was supposed to be answering. “Of course I respect you!”

“Then tell me the truth!” He stalked closer, his breathing harsh and rapid. “If I asked you to be my girlfriend again, tell me you’d say yes. Tell me it’s because you trust me.”

Her mouth fell open, but the muscles in her throat wouldn’t move — just sat lifeless and paralyzed.

He was right.

She loved him so much, thought he was kind and wonderful and all the good things that she could never be . . . but she hadn’t been thinking of him as a partner. Never someone who could know better than her. He was sweet, innocent, naïve David. She was jaded and jagged, but above all she was right. She knew things he never could, learned from painful experience, and she had to protect him from herself and from the rest of the world.

It hadn’t even occurred to her to question it.

He must’ve read her thoughts on her face. Hurt flashed across his expression — a slight widening of his eyes, a tremor of his mouth — and then he looked away, wrapping his arms around himself. “Gwen, I love you. But I don’t think you see me as an equal.”

“It’s not that . . .” she began, but his face had shut off, the light behind it gone like a heavy steel shutter had closed behind his eyes.

“I . . .” He shook his head, scrubbed a hand across his face. “I need to go. I need . . . to think. To figure out . . .” He gestured between the two of them, still not meeting her eyes. “I want to say we can make this work. But I can’t be treated like this. I — I do deserve better than that.”

She nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “I know,” she croaked, more tears swelling her throat and making her voice crack.

“Yeah. You need to think, too.” He stepped past her, crossing the room and opening the door. He paused in the frame for a moment, not turning back to look at her. “I’m going out. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She didn’t move until the sound of the campmobile had faded into silence.

---

“Jesus, Davey.”

“I know.” He chuckled through his tears, leaning back against the windshield and looking up at the sky. His sleeping bag (the one he kept in the trunk for camping emergencies) was rolled out on the ground under the shelter of a tree, but the lookout’s reception was better by the car, and the cool metal was a relief from the hot, still air. “But she said she loves me.”

“Yeah? She has a real shitty way of showing it.” There was a moment of silence, and David closed his eyes, letting his breathing steady to match the night songs of the crickets. “I hate to say it . . . but I kinda think she’s right.”

He frowned, opening his eyes and sitting up. “What?” he asked, his heart shrinking in on itself with her words. How many more people in his life thought he wasn’t smart enough to make his own decisions?

“You deserve better.”

“Oh.” He sighed, settling back with relief.

He knew that, too.

“Julia . . .” He sniffed, wiped his nose on the hem of his shirt (it was laundry day tomorrow anyway). “Is it bad if I still want to be with her?”

“Of course not.” There’d been only a few times David could remember where his best friend’s voice had been so soft, so kind. And it was always when he was at his absolute lowest point. “You love her. That’s never a bad thing, even if she doesn’t deserve it.”

He didn’t say what he was thinking: he couldn’t shake the feeling, despite everything, that maybe she did . “W-what should I do?” he asked, knowing Julia wouldn’t have an answer but desperately hoping she might.

“I dunno, Red.” Julia sighed, just as a breeze ruffled David’s hair. For a second it felt like they were kids again, sitting on the dock of Lake Lilac and talking about Jasper. “I’m on your team whatever you decide.”

“Thanks, Jules.” He finished the call and stood, walking over to the drop that looked out over the entire lake. His gaze was drawn toward the small black speck that he knew was Camp Campbell, dark and quiet from so high above the world.

Whatever you decide.

He just had to figure out what that could possibly be.

---

David was right: she had to think.

And because he deserved it, she was trying very hard not to be apocalyptic or self-pitying, even though he now knew how terrible she was not only in the ways she’d already been aware of, but fun new ones she hadn’t even noticed.

She wasn’t very good at not being apocalyptic or self-pitying. But she was trying.

Gwen wandered into the cabin’s main area, the little not-quite-a-living room they’d filled with the camp’s one crappy TV and some leftover furniture that couldn’t fit in the Mess Hall. Next to the back door was a bulletin board covered in photos — David as a camper, the hated group photo taken at the beginning of every summer. Dozens of little snapshots, things that made David happy and that he thought were worth remembering.

She caught sight of a photo near the back, half-buried under the others, and smiled despite herself. It was from the year she’d started at Camp Campbell, making that stupid salute in front of her bedroom door. David had insisted on a photo of her in her new uniform, and the smile on her face was already strained, like she’d had an inkling of how insane the next half a decade was going to be.

Another photo snagged her attention, one from last summer: her and David’s faces smushed together, his arm stretching out to try and capture both of them in their ridiculous Order of the Sparrow outfits. They had red lipstick smeared across their cheeks and feathers in their hair, and she hadn’t even bothered trying to smile — though Gwen noticed, leaning in and wincing, that even through the terrible “war paint” on her face it was obvious she was blushing.

Less than twelve hours after that picture was taken, David would get injured and give her the worst scare of her life.

Less than a day later, the people in that picture would be dating.

And just about a year later — almost to the day — the annoyed-looking woman in the photograph would be alone in the counselors’ cabin, while the pale, scrawny not-Native-American would be . . . somewhere. Away from camp. Away from her.

Because of her.

David had been right. She loved him so much — more than she’d ever loved anyone else, which scared her to the point where she kinda wanted to throw up — but she’d been treating him the way she always had: as her goofy, lovable coworker. Not dumb, most of the time anyway, but naïve and sweet and vulnerable, who needed to be steered away from bad ideas like Sword Juggling Camp and officiating a green-card wedding for Mr. Campbell and falling in love with her.

Because she was his best friend, and that was what she was supposed to do, right?

She flopped onto the couch with a groan, flinging an arm over her eyes to block out the unforgiving fluorescent light.

“I don’t think you see me as an equal at all.”

The problem was she didn’t; she saw him as better than her, kinder and more patient — but putting him on a pedestal wasn’t any more respectful, not really. It wasn’t any truer, and it sure as hell wasn’t any more flattering, didn’t hurt him any less. She couldn’t tell him how she felt for so long, because she didn’t think he’d be able to understand. Or if he did, it’d change how he felt about her, like he hadn’t been paying attention, hadn’t noticed the basic primary colors of her personality in the years they’d known each other. Somehow she’d been thinking of him as both too good and not good enough for an honest conversation, and hadn’t even noticed the contradiction.

But she thought he was the one who hadn’t been paying attention? God, she’d been so self-absorbed, so myopic —

(something pinged in the back of her head)

(just enough to cut off the churning stream of her thoughts)

Myopic. David had taught her that word. He’d heard it on some podcast his friend was obsessed with, and was so excited to know something Gwen didn’t that he was practically glowing. She’d called him a smug bastard and slapped the back of his head, just hard enough to make him laugh, but the truth was she liked hearing him explain things; when he was teaching the campers, she always stopped to watch (and not just to get a break from doing her job), because he was so patient and enthusiastic it was like the air around him was suffused with a soft, warm light.

He was a good teacher. She’d learned a lot from him.

(another ping)

(louder, more like a tuning fork smacked against the inside of her skull)

Gwen sat up, nearly falling off the sagging couch as she scrambled to her feet. There was an idea — small, fluttering, and she was afraid to approach it head-on because it might dissolve like a barely-remembered dream, but it all came back to myopic , to forest survival, to every time he’d taught her something she hadn’t known before. And there was so much. She’d been the most hopeless city girl when she started at Camp Campbell; she’d barely known how to tie a decent knot, let alone lead the dozens of bizarre and complicated camps David juggled like it was nothing.

Gwen remembered the strings of origami animals that she’d made back in New York. How she hadn’t turned to her phone for a YouTube tutorial, but painstakingly tried to remember David’s instructions step-by-step.

A quick glance at the clock told her it was just past 2 a.m. She had a little more than four hours before he’d be back, probably. It didn’t feel like nearly enough time, but she’d do what she could.

David was so much more than she’d ever given him credit for.

And she thought she knew how she could show it to him.

[dcbutinamrev]

these all give me lams (maybe hamdre??) vibes

“Why have I never noticed how gorgeous your eyes are?” 

or

“I can’t move because you’re sitting on top of me.”  - “Have you ever thought that maybe the problem isn’t me sitting on you, but maybe you sitting under me?” 

or

“Hold my hand. I want to measure how big it is compared to yours.” 

...I'm too indecisive to pick one oops

I'm very indecisive too bestie, you're not alone in that. BUT I CAN'T DECIDE EITHER-

But anyways-

This might be a little short than usual but-

~~~

It's late in the evening when the front door to the aide-de-camp office bursts open with a sharp bang. Hamilton yelps with surprise and complete startlement, his deep ocean eyes--that, if you look closely, will occasionally make the impression of violet--his jaw slacked, his blood going cold and his knee jerks underneath the table, causing his ink pot to jostle a little, but thankfully no ink manages to spill.

The rest of the military family, his dear Laurens of course beside him, a hand rested on his shoulder to keep him stead, Tench Tilghman (seated across from them), Robert Hanson Harrison (seated beside Tilghman, a white feathered quill clenched in his hands), John Fitzgerald, barely looking up from his corrospondences seated beside him. The Marquis de Lafayette hovering over beside General Washington, glances up slowly, his lips pinching with annoyance but forces a fond smile to appear on his face as Richard Kidder Meade, the only aide missing from the table, appears in front of the doorway holding a handful of dispatches, huffing and puffing as he desperately tries to catch his breath. He hunches over, gripping both of his knees as he lifts the hand with the dispatch and nearly hobbles his way over.

Hamilton stands immediately. "My God, Kidder! Where--"

"Your Excellency," Meade huffs as he saunters his way towards the table. "Corrospondences from Lord Stirling." He slaps the papers down before the General. Washington glances at the Marquis, who shrugs before ticking his gray-blue eyes back toward Meade, who runs a hand through his unruly, dark brown hair, his chocolate brown eyes wide. "A-About the upcoming battle...Germantown..."

The General eyes him momentarily before nodding with approval before ticking his eyes back towards the handful of papers before him, gently sorting through one by one, his eyes narrowed and nose scrunched up a bit. Meade swallows, never taking his eyes off of the General before him, still remaining stiff, his arms sticks to his side, hands flat against his hips. Jaw clenched.

"Very well," Washington says, setting the papers aside. "Dismissed."

Meade bows respectfully before spinning about and sliding into a seat next to Hamilton, eyes him with wide eyes and a worried face.

"Kidder?" Hamilton says.

Meade glances up at him, his temple pressed against his palm, an eyebrow raised. "Yes?"

"Are you well?" Hamilton asks. "You look like you saw a ghost..."

Meade smiles softly, sitting up straighter in his wooden chair. "I appreciate your concern, Ham. I'm well, thank you."

Hamilton stands abruptly. "Perhaps I ought to get you some tea..."

Meade catches Hamilton's arms before he could go any farther. "Hamilton...really...I am well...just...merely...exhausted..."

Hamilton stares at Meade for a moment or two before finally nodding with agreement and plopping himself back down into his chair with a huff, shuffling his corrospondences around until he finds the one that he's currently working on. "Right...of course..."

Hamilton yanks his quill back up and dips quill to continue his work, however, he catches Laurens's bright blue eyes on him--blue as the sky on a beautiful spring day--his hand resting against his cheek and a small smile appears on his face as he'll occasionally tick his eyes back up to meet Hamilton's before glancing back down at the paper before him.

With slight parted lips, Hamilton ticks his eyes down to see Laurens sketching out a small set of eyes. Nothing else, just the slight curve of the nose (stopping halfway), the angluar eyebrows (making quick strokes with the quill to indicate their bushiness), a few dots across the subject's cheek and a few curls on the subject's forehead. Hamilton huffs and leans forward so he's blocking Meade's line of vision and folds both arms on top of each other as he presses his chest against them. He raises both eyebrows up at Laurens.

"Now?" Hamilton whispers.

Laurens hums. "Every chance I get."

Hamilton chuckles softly, a beautiful sound that makes Laurens's heart flip in his chest.

"John..." Hamilton says, rather scolding like. But a fondness appears in his tone.

"You know...there's a reason why I prefer to draw eyes..." Laurens begins.

Hamilton smiles with tight lips as he watches Laurens's quill color in Hamilton's pupil, only leaving a small white dot in the middle of his pupil. A light reflecting his eyes, probably, Hamilton thinks.

"Oh?" Hamilton asks softly, tapping Laurens's wrist once. "How so?"

Laurens feels the corners of his lips quirking up, his quill slowing to a stop. He glances over his shoulder at Hamilton's direction and leans closer so only, and hopefully, Hamilton could hear.

Hamilton's heart leaps into his throat when he realizes how close the two of them are, the tips of their noses nearly touching. Hamilton nearly jolts back, but Laurens clamps his hand around his knee underneath the table, to keep him in place. Hamilton swallows hard, his eyes wide and blinking as he stares deeply into Laurens's own. He feels his freckled cheeks becoming extremely warm. Though he's unsure if it's just because he's blushing or if it's because of the heat.

"Because why have I never noticed how gorgeous your eyes are...?" Laurens whispers, his voice husky.

Hamilton presses his lips tight, his eyes wide again and remains intensely still, breathing in sharply through his nose and holding his breath there. For a moment, he thinks he forgets how to breathe.

"They are...a beautiful color, Alexander..." Laurens continues. Hamilton swallows, gripping the edges of his seat, his palms becoming sweaty. Laurens grins. "A deep blue...deep as the midnight sky...though...if you look closely...with the candle light...they look violet..."

Hamilton squeezes his eyes shut and bites back a low moan as he feels Laurens's warm breath so close against his neck. Instead, he hisses sharply and jabs his foot against Laurens's thigh underneath the table. He furrows his brows in a scolding like expression and, therefore, Laurens frowns with complete and utter confusion.

"John!" Hamilton scolds, loud enough for the others to hear but for his next part he whispers sharply, "We are in public!" A pause. "Are you trying to seduce me?!"

Laurens shrugs, returning to his drawing of Hamilton's eyes. "Perhaps...Perhaps not..."

Hamilton huffs as he leans back returning to his own work, grumbling something incoherently under his breath.

"Though," Laurens says with a sly grin, his golden-brown eyebrows raised high. "Perhaps...I could...draw you...tonight?"

Hamilton stiffens, sitting up unusally straight, much straighter than before and without looking up from his papers, reaches out with his right hand and twists Laurens's earlobe, pinches it tight with his forefinger and thumb before twisting it sharply.

Laurens yelps with surprise, dropping his quill instantly and his chair scoots back roughly, the legs of the chair scraping against the wooden floors. He grips Hamilton's wrist tight, trying to pry his hand off. "Ow! Ow! Hey! Ow! Alexander!"

Hamilton grins. "First warning."

Hamilton, however, finds it highly amusing to watch Laurens thrash around as he desperately tries to pry his hand off.

A beautiful sight indeed.