#canvas bell tent

[outdoorovernights]

MC TOMOUNT Canvas Tent Bell Tent Yurt Review

Have you ever wondered where comfort meets adventure in the world of camping? The “MC TOMOUNT Canvas Tent Bell Tent Yurt with Stove Jack Zipped Removable Floor for Glamping Truck Car Camping” might just be your next perfect travel companion. Imagine setting up a cozy abode beneath the stars, with the assurance of both safety and comfort. Let’s talk about what makes this tent not just a mere…

[davidralphlewis]

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

there’s been lots of requests and comments so here it is PART 3!!! (SHE’S HERE first anon, hope you survived this long second anon and it was not a dream third anon, I’m posting/making it now fourth and fifth anon)

some of you were going feral for part 2 so I hope this lives up the expectation 😭😭 if not I’m severely sorry

title: the dancer and the angel part 3

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: grayson has just admitted to kissing lyra kane, the girl you’d been worried about, the girl that was stunning, the girl he said didn’t matter… he chose her over you so now what??

parts: part 1 part 2 part 4

warnings: swearing, SPOILERS FOR TGG

a/n: okay so I hate switching POVs but I felt it was necessary here and I know the start is the same as the part 2 but in Gray’s POV but trust me there is lot more

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31

GRAYSON’S POV

Guilt has chewed me up and spat me out the whole walk back to our shared room. There’s a pulsating lump in my throat that aches relentlessly, reminding me of what I’ve done. I am a terrible person. I never deserved her and now I’ve done the worst thing I could’ve possibly done, that anyone on this whole planet could’ve ever done. And she will never forgive me for it. I wish there was a way to turn back time and alter certain events. As soon as the time machine is invented, no doubt by my very own brother Xander, I’m coming back to moments before now to stop my idiot brain from-

I can’t even think it. Maybe it’s because it makes it more real. It’s like the last few moments of my life have been erased from my brain, it’s a blank canvas and I have no paints. I know what I did but I can’t remember exact details. Still, I can taste her on my lips, an over sweet taste that was almost too sickly has now morphed into something bitter. Her perfume lingers on my clothes and adds to my ever growing headache. I don’t want to smell her, I don’t want the reminder of the awful human I have become. The monster that now inhabits my body, lives in my skin, breathes my air and poisons the people I love. The ones I truly love.

Y/n. At one point she was the only reason I was still existing, still carrying on. She somehow managed to give me the fight to keep carrying on. I got up most days because I knew I would get to see her face. And now I’m going to throw everything away, our whole relationship. Everything we’ve been through or planned to go through together. It will reduced to nothing in a few minutes.

I’m outside the door, my feet have carried me here through muscle memory. I must go in, I must face her I’m aware but I’m afraid. I’ve never felt so pathetic. I wonder if she is still asleep. Though, I can’t work out whether I’d rather she be awake or asleep. I don’t think I could bear to look at her angelic feature either way. Those wide eyes, round lips, heavenly- I can’t bear it, I’m going to lose her, all of her.

I fiddle around with the key, hoping the door will just never unlock so I don’t have to face this. The mechanism clicks, mocking me. I step in silently and face the door to lock back up again. I don’t understand why, I know I’ll be kicked out in a matter of seconds, what good will a locked door be? And yet I’m still facing the door, fumbling with the key, my back towards her. Though I can hear her getting out of bed. She’s awake. My body’s immediate response is to go into a state of paralysis. I can’t move as the guilt ridden cement hardens over my body, creating an outer shell of the cruel creature I’ve become. Her body is behind mine. I can feel her bright presence radiating her usual tentative nature.

“Are you okay?” I hear her whisper as she touches my arm so gently it stings.

It stings so sharply because I know what I’ve done. The shameful crime I’ve committed. I jerk away suddenly.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, deep concern in her tone.

It kills me. It’s a poisoned dagger wedged deep within my heart, hitting every vital artery. Her voice is so soft, so melodic. She cares so much, too much and I’m about to destroy it all. And as much as I could not say a word I couldn’t live a lie, the guilt would eat me alive. How could I look her in the eye and tell her she’d always been the only one when I know she hadn’t? She’d already noticed earlier today my distant mood. She had always been observant, vigilant about those things concerning me and I’d always been grateful. I wouldn’t have that anymore. Lyra had been on my mind earlier and I couldn’t tell her. Now she would realise.

“No,” I reply.

My voice is unfamiliar to myself, it’s sharp and blunt. It sounds horribly harsh. I could feel it hurt her, the air ripples with a touch of dimness when I hurt her. Even with my back to her it’s obvious to me. I know her so well, too well and from this day on we might drift to perfect strangers. That thought hurts me more than anything.

“Where have you been?” she says. Her voice so sweet, so innocent, cruelly naïve.

I don’t want to break her, I don’t want to do it. It would be like smashing a glass ballerina. Something so beautiful, something so delicate should be preserved not purposely broken. I force my eyes to meet hers. I immediately regret it. The soft mellow colour all melts into one, clawing at my heartstrings and ripping the organ to shreds. She’s so beautiful. How had I ever looked at any other? How had I let myself?

Suddenly I’m drowning in guilt. I don’t know how, it just comes over me suddenly. Like a tidal wave I had my back to. I’ve been swept under by an endless ocean of shame. My lungs swollen full of my own black sin. I don’t know how but I manage to choke out two shaky words.

“I’m sorry.”

My voice cracks. My voice never cracks. She knows that. I’m sturdy, I’m strong, I’m the rock that never breaks and here I am. Here I am crumbling into dust. She’s too smart to miss the signs, she’s too clever not to immediately know something so horribly wrong, her mind is too sharp not to have worked half of it out. She’d already been suspicious of Lyra. She’d already seen what might happen between us even before I did, before it did actually happen.

“Gray?” she asks, my name sounding too sweet on her tongue. The next time she says it will taste bitter, I’m sure of it. She barely whispers the word but I hear her, it rings in my mind. It forever will.

I’m full of pure regret and guilt, it wracks my soul, shaking me relentlessly back and forth until I’m dizzy with it. Remorse’s doors suddenly burst wide open, ready for my grand entrance. My hopes and dreams snicker and smirk smugly as I walk down the runway, my head hanging in embarrassment.

I need to tell her. My heart races in my chest and there’s a lump stuck in my throat, so large it’s started to block my airways. I don’t know how to get the words out, I don’t know how to talk. I feel like I’m suffering some sort of aneurysm. She looks at me, her eyebrows pinched in and eyes narrowed and then I see it. Her eyebrows part and slowly sink. She knows already.

“Tell me,” she murmurs, her voice of an angel shaking.

I close my eyes, trying to suppress the tears. I haven’t cried in years I’ve forgotten this feeling, this heavy weighted agony that ripples through me causing water to infiltrate my eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek and still my shaking hands.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, an uninvited raw desperation ripping through my voice, “I never wanted to hurt you, I never meant for it to happen, I-“

“Tell me,” she grits through her teeth sharply, her eyes glitter so beautifully fierce and fiery, like she wants to kill.

But I know she’s trying to steady her rising sadness by covering up with her fury. I can see through her, like she can see through me. I freeze and the pause elongates. The aching silence is deadly, it’s fatal. I wish she didn’t have to make me say it.

“I kissed her,” I murmur, the words making me feel sick as I say them.

“Who?” she asks, he tone low and ferocious, “who did you kiss? I want to hear you say it.”

I’m twisting a knife into her heart and I know it. But she wants me to cut deeper. She’s a woman of principle, I’ve already hurt her, I might as well do the job properly in her eyes. And I can’t deny her this. Not I’ve stripped her of her dignity, her trust, her love, her everything.

“I kissed Lyra,” I whisper, suddenly aware of the dampness on my cheeks.

A sour taste fills my mouth. The words send lightning sparks across my jaw, sending ribbons of agony down the sides of my face. The truth hurts. Literally. Tears are rolling the side of my face, but I don’t bring my hand to wipe them and nor do I stop them. I’ve never felt more broken.

But she doesn’t care, there is not pity in her eyes. Good. I don’t want he to pity me. She should hate me. She should want me to miserable and hope for me to have a lifetime of the torture I’ve just forced her to endure.

“Get out,” she murmurs, the anger bringing out her natural stunning features. A flicker of boldness in her eyes, the striking angles of her eyebrows, her strong thick lashes and her full lips.

“I’m sorry.” they’re the only words I remember how to say, through my internal fit of torment.

I expect her to hit me around the face, a good strong punch I know she can make or a sharp smack that’ll leave a red hand mark pressed against my cheek. I imagine she might scream at me and ask me all the questions I wish I had answers to. But she does none of that. She only looks at me darkly and utters two last words.

“Leave Grayson.”

I can hear the tears she’s trying to hold back, through the numb façade. I know her better than she’ll ever realise. But it’s not fair for me to stay, not after this. She’s only asking one thing of me when she should be doing so much more. So I do. I turn my back on her again. And I leave.

***

Tears pummel down my cheeks like never before. I can’t remember the last time I cried. I don’t think I’ve ever cried like this. I’m blinded by them as I stumble sideways. I don’t know where I’m going. I stand on the edge of the cliff and sink to my knees, letting out a loud guttural scream. I’m there until my throat is so raw I can’t feel it. I bite my lip so hard it draws blood. And then I’m up again and running, following a path my footsteps are dragging me towards. I can’t think straight, I’m dizzy with pain. Before I know it I’m outside the safe house on the island. My hands tremor on the handle and I swing open the door, falling to the floor for my sobs to take me over. My chest aches and burns and tightens. That’s when I realise I can’t breathe properly. I fumble around for my phone, a tear splashing into the illuminated screen. With uncontrollably shaking hands, I typed no words. Just three numbers.

911

***

The wait feels like years, maybe even decades. Each second taunts me, with a mocking tick. I’d crumbled into the corner of the room at some point and stayed there, curled up and choking on my own sorry sobs. What had I done? What had I done? What had I done?

The question circles around my head like the nostalgia of a distorted tune of a merry go round. I’ve never made such a big mistake and my life and deep down there’s a sinking sensation that is telling me I’m not going to be able to make this better. I sob, loud harsh sobs that hurt my lungs and knock the air out of my stomach. My whole being shakes with every strangled noise that escapes my lips. Grieving. I’m grieving over something I chose to throw away. It’s cruelly ironic. But I think part of me is also grieving the good man I once thought myself to be, that she made me believe I could be.

I turned my back on the one and only person in this world who just cared about me, took me for who I am and believed I could do anything. She only wanted the best, she only wanted happiness and she deserved so much more and here I am, stabbing her in the back and dancing in her blood like a madman. She was my everything and I managed to mess it up, just like everything else in my life. I can’t have normal relationships, I can’t do something without messing it up. I’m one big screw up the opposite of how the old man raised me to be. He’s looking down on me now and I can feel his disappointment, like an infection coursing through my bloodstream. I failed him, I failed my brothers, I’ve failed her, I’ve failed myself.

She thought I was better, she believed I could be more than his expectation. And I was stupid enough to believe it, encourage it and let her belive the lie too. We’re all idiots.

I can recite her favourite song, her favourite flower, her favourite food and favourite colour. I can tell you all about her favourite novels and how she orders her books on an endless bookshelf. I know that she tells people her favourite film is ‘it’s a wonderful life’ but it’s actually secretly ‘tangled’. I know she prefers to stay inside and cuddle under blankets rather than have a night out. I know she’d rather reason a thousand books than watch a thousand movies. I know she wanted a library in her dream house and two, maybe three children with her husband and I know she’d sometimes debate about getting a cat as well. I know how she loves brownie batter more than the actual brownies and can’t sleep with any lights on. I know she still uses the bunny rhyme to tie her shoelaces and how she fiddles with her collarbone when she’s nervous. I know exactly what diamond she wanted in her engagement ring and her favourite country. I know what people she despises and I know what people she adores. I know every inch of her face, every hair on her head, every sparkle in her eyes and every cell on her skin.

I know her.

I know her, but that can’t help me now. Pain ripples across the left side of my chest and my hand clamps over it as I grit my teeth to try and bear it. I hear the door creek open and can’t tell whether it comforts me or not.

“Grayson pookie!” Xander calls out, “we’re here.”

His cheerful voice doesn’t provide me with the cushion to this pain I thought it might.

“And we have some in incredibly strong whisky,” Jameson adds, I can here the mischievous grin in his voice, it’s been the same all of his life.

“My nose hairs are officially burnt off,” Xander agrees.

I can’t speak. I try to call out for them but the words die in my swollen throat.

“Where are you Gray?” Nash calls out, he sounds a little more worried than the other two but is concealing it well.

“Here,” my voice is hoarse and laboured, even I can’t recognise it.

The mood immediately shifts, you can feel it. The air becomes tainted with concern as their footsteps approach my cowering figure. The case of whiskey is dropped as there is an audible thunk as it hits the floor. I can feel their bodies enveloping around mine creating something of a circle of safety. I look up to worried face and shiny eyes.

“Help me,” I gasp for air, greedily trying to gulp down the oxygen that I feel so deprived of, “please.”

“We’re here to help you Gray,” Nash murmurs softly. His voice had always been something comforting, especially when I was younger. I wonder if he will be so kind when I tell him what I’ve done. He’s going to hate me, there’s nothing he despises more than a man who can’t respect a woman.

I shake my head and choke out another struggling sob, instead of the words I don’t know how to say. Jameson’s eyes flit between mine and Nash’s, the concern rippling across his features. He’s never looked this concerned for me in his life. I think to all the times as children I’d helped him settle after a nightmare and wiped his tears that he hated falling when the old man had humiliated him. Oh how the tables had turned. Now it was my little brother wiping my tears.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his touch so gentle it shocks me.

“I can’t-“ I barely get out, wrapping my hands around my neck.

“Gray…” he trails off, unmasked emotion hitting his face like a train.

“I can’t breathe,” I wheeze as the invisible blanket that was set out to suffocate me tightens over my nose and mouth.

“Hey, Gray, look at me,” Nash says, his voice smooth and reassuring, “in and out okay, in and out.”

“I can’t,” I pant, my limbs shaking embarrassingly uncontrollably.

Xander takes both of my hands into his and squeezes them until they still, “yes you can, follow Nash’s instructions okay?”

“Slowly, do it with me,” Nash nods, “in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

I do. In and out, a rhythmic pattern. Each time Nash reminds me how to breathe. There’s an aura of calmness about his voice that lulls my panic into a narcoleptic sleep. Once my breathing is halfway regulated I look at him, dead in the eye, with shaking sorrowful lips.

“I fucked up,” I sob, “I fucked up and I don’t know what to do.”

They all share a look, this is the worst state they’ve seen me and we all know it. I begin to pathetically sob uncontrollably once again, the feelings building up in my chest and tearing me apart from the inside out. It’s like a rabid pack of wolves had been set loose to feed on my internal organs. I don’t know how to stop the ocean of tears, I don’t know how to shut my mind off, I don’t know how to help myself. Reel myself in from this abominable mess I’ve become. I’m hyperventilating, my chest throbbing up and down unevenly. Nash nods towards Jameson, a short, soft, sharp nod of approval.

“Hey! Calm down!” Jameson snaps, giving me a hard slap around the face, “snap out of this!”

The shock shuts me up and the sting stops my tears. I’m back to reality instead of a wallowing mess. Nash must’ve been approving the slap I realise in the sudden cleared head I’d obtained

“Sorry,” Jameson mumbles at me, looking a little guilty.

I massage my jaw, “no I think I needed that.”

He grimaces and then softens his tone, “what happened Gray?”

I tense, growing very still, “I can’t say it out loud, I can’t, I’m awful, I’m horrible-“

“What happened?” Nash drawls.

I choke out yet another unnatural sound. Seems the slap didn’t snap me hard enough into reality. I exhale slowly. I have to say it, now or never.

“I kissed Lyra.”

The words hurt even more this time, that they did when I’d admitted it to y/n. Neither one of my brothers can mask their honest reaction.

“Oh fuck,” Jameson blurts out, “you cheated?”

Anger. He’s fuming with me. I can see the rage trailing through his eyes and blossoming into his expression.

“I didn’t mean to,” I reply, feeling like a small child.

Jameson’s eyes widen and fury flashes across his face, “how can you not mean-“

Nash shoots him a look and his mouth glues shut. Then he turns to me and I can’t quite read him yet. I gulp.

“No one does that kind of thing for no reason,” he says sternly, “I never thought you’d be the one of the four of us to ever do that, seems I was mistaken little brother.”

Disappointment. He’s disappointed. A horrible sinking feeling settles in my stomach. Nash is disappointed in me. It’s one of the worst feelings imaginable. There had only been few times in my life when he had been and I remember the feeling all too well. Shame has me in a chokehold an it’s succeeding in strangling me. I can‘t bring myself to meet his eyes, I don’t want to see that look I can feel is on his face, that look of pure disapproval.

“How did she find out?” Xander asks quietly.

Shock. He hadn’t said anything until now, but his lips had been slightly parted and he’d paled a little. He never thought I’d do this to anyone, he’s yet another person I’ve let down.

“I told her,” I murmur, “the guilt was consuming me.”

“As it should,” Jameson snaps, twitching with a fiery ferocity.

“Jamie,” Nash says, trying to keep some kind of diplomacy.

“No,” he growls, “you don’t do that to a girl, your girl, you can’t do that!”

“Don’t take the moral highground now,” I spit.

“When you’ve cheated on your girlfirend? Yeah I think I will,” he replies, the bitterness rolling off of his tongue like a deadly poison. He doesn’t know I’ve already poisoned myself with my own actions, his words can’t hurt me.

“I didn’t mean to,” I falter.

“Bullshit,” he grits through his teeth, in two definitive and threatening symbols.

“Careful Jamie,” Nash warns.

“All this is your fault anyway,” I continue, ignoring the warning.

“So it’s my fault, you kissed another girl, yeah, okay Gray,” he nods his head with a sarcastic smile.

“It is!” I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air, “if you hadn’t locked me in a room with her-“

“So it’s my fault you couldn’t keep up dick under control,” he quips, interrupting me.

“You could’ve locked me with my one of my sisters but of course you just had choose the only girl who isn’t related to me,” I seethe.

“Odette isnt related to you,” Xander pipes up. I’d forgotten he was there, that anyone besides me and Jameson were there.

“Odette is old enough to be my grandmother,” I scowl at him, immediately feeling bad as the words leave my lips, but don’t dwell on it as I turn back to Jameson, “why did you make me a player in your sick excuse of a game?”

“You can’t use the game as an excuse,” he laughs darkly.

“I will,” I reply sharply, “this is your fault and Avery’s fault too.”

“Avery? Don’t make me laugh,” he rolls his eyes.

“The game never should’ve been created by her,” I yell, “that’s why I’m in this mess!”

“No, you’re in this mess because of you,” he shouts back, “but don’t you dare bring Avery in to this it’s not her fault.”

I feel like I’m one of those circus acts, the ones that lay on a spinning board and get knives hurled at them. Only in my case the knives are the truth and they actually hit me.

“Why did you make me a player?” I ask quieter now, my voice hoarse, “why?”

“I didn’t know making you a player would result in this,” he says.

“It was so irreverent,” I snap becoming angrier by the second, a sudden burst of red overriding any rational sense in my head, “I never needed to play.”

“You can’t pin this on me Gray, if it didn’t happen with Lyra, who knows who else it would’ve happened with,” he hisses.

“So you think I’m just like this? You think this is me?” I ask him, prodding the hollow space where my heart used to be.

“I didn’t before….” he trails off, sighing, “but now I don’t know what the fucking think of you.”

“Jamie,” Nash repeats again, in the same warning tone as before. We both ignore him.

“Just because you and Avery are all peaches and roses-“

“Leave Avery out of your anger issues,” he roars defensively.

“No,” I counter, raising an eyebrow, mirroring his usual argument demeanour, “you think you’re so perfect now you’ve got your dream girl and the two of you are so much better off than the rest of us, because your love is undeniable or whatever bullshit people feed you about it-“

Jameson’s features twitch for a split second. He’s hurt, but won’t show it. He’ll refuse but I know that it hit a nerve that won’t heal for a long time. I stop mid-sentence.

“I am far from perfect, I think we both know that,” he says, in a low voice, “look you’re hurting, I get it, but I’m not going to mollycoddle you and tell you it’s okay when it’s not. I’m not going to stand here and lie to your face because as your brother that would be the worst possible thing for me to do to you.”

“My brother would try and understand what it’s like from my side,” I say, desperation clawing at my voice.

“You’re looking for a fight Grayson and it’s not going to end well, not with me,” he warns, shaking his head.

“Maybe I do want a fight, but you know you do too,” I growl rolling up my sleeves, “so fine, I’ll give you a fight Jamie.”

“I don’t want a fight, I want some justice for y/n,” he states simply, “she did nothing to deserve that Gray, she’s been so good to you, the sweetest soul on this earth and she’s helped you through a lot of shit and this is how you’re repaying her?”

“Jameson,” Nash says.

He ignores him for the third time and I can see his calm facade beginning to drop, “you think because you called a 911 and you’re here crying that I should feel sorry for you?”

“I thought you were going to be here for me,” I reply numbly, my tone dead, “clearly I’m mistaken.”

“I can’t be there for someone with no morals,” he replies, “you cheated and you’re the one who’s upset about it, how do you think she feels?”

“You think I don’t know her?” I fire back, my throat burning, “you think I don’t know exactly what she’s doing right now? I hate myself, I hate myself for doing what I did!”

“Good you should!” he screams back.

Before I know it I feel myself charges towards him, ready to throw a good punch but Nash and Xander launch onto me to quickly and managing to hold me back. Nash’s grip is so tight I don’t dare try and budge.

“Out. Now.” Nash says sharply to Jameson, “go and cool off.”

His tone sends a shiver down my spine that I won’t admit to. Jameson opens his mouth to argue.

“Jameson.”

He skulks away, with a sullen face. We all wait frozen until the door has been slammed shut. Nash lets my arm go, dropping it harshly and Xander follows suit.

“And you’re no better,” he turns to me, placing his cowboy hat on a nearby surface, “I’m only sending him away because you can’t be left alone in this mess and so the two of you don’t rip each other to pieces.”

Silence stills the room. His voice echoes but makes no sound all at the same time.

“Take a second, take a breath and we’re going to talk this through like adults,” he says, “if you want to carry on being a child then leave. Calm down, you’re not a toddler having a tantrum, you’re a grown man, act like it.”

Nash has a way of snapping me back to reality. I nod shakily.

“Talk.”

I begin, “I don’t even know why I kissed her, I didn’t mean to it just-“

“Happened?” he guesses, “no little brother, that doesn’t just happen.”

“The I don’t know Nash,” I say, tipping my head back and resting it on the wall behind me.

I hadn’t meant for it to happen. I didn’t want it to happen. It just did. She was there, just stood there. Her hands looped naturally around the back of my neck, warm and gentle, “someone sent me that ticket Grayson. I thought it was Avery but if it wasn’t…”

She trails off, her voice small and tentative. Her golden eyes filled with the utmost worry. I wanted her to know she’d be okay, that she’d have someone to keep her safe. Her arms get more comfortable around my neck. She’d felt it too, the electrifying spark between us. It was exhilarating but something about it was off, synthetic.

“Then who the hell was it?” I questioned, my hands magnetised to her cheek all of a sudden.

Lyra didn’t pull away and neither did I. I lower my head and she raised onto her toes and titled hers back a little. She was graceful, like a dancer. My lips brushed over hers. They were sweet like honey. For the first few moments it was bliss and the realisation hit, like a stone to my stomach. I jerked backwards suddenly, shaking my head.

“I can’t do this,” I said, my fingers trying to wipe her taste off of my lips, “I don’t- this isn’t-“

I was tongue-tied, not able to explain to her how wrong it was. The words wouldn’t work the way I wanted them to.

“Gray?” Lyra murmurs, a tender voice. Her amber eyes are widened and slightly confused.

“No,” I yell. She flinches and another wave of horribly strong emotion rushes over me, drowning me. “No I’m in love with someone else. I don’t know what that was. I can’t-“

I stumbled backward a few steps and the turned around and ran. Like the coward that I am.

“It did just happen,” I murmur, lifting my head from the wall to look my older brother in eye, “I swear to god, I didn’t intend for it to happen, I didn’t even know I had feelings for her.”

I can see he disagrees still and isn’t convinced. I don’t know how to prove it to him.

“Let’s establish one thing here, who do you like?” Xander asks me.

“I like Lyra,” I say slowly, “but I love y/n.”

Nash shakes his head, “if you loved her you wouldn’t have done that.”

“I made a mistake,” I press on.

“And you will pay for it and regret it for the rest of your life,” he shrugs, “it’s not what you wanted to hear but it’s the truth. Listen, I love Libby and loving someone means so many things. One of those things is that I don’t even look at other women, to me they don’t even really exist. Libby is my world and no one else even comes into the equation, so the fact is someone else came into the equation for you, meaning the love wasn’t there.”

“But it was, I felt it,” I say, my voice breaking as I press my chest.

“What do you feel for Lyra?” he asks plainly.

“I don’t know, she’s intriguing and smart and beautiful,” I murmur, “and I like her, but I don’t know if I have romantic feelings for her.”

“Then why did you kiss her?”

“Comfort? Lust? Greed? Selfishness? I don’t know it just happened,” I repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Stop using that phrase as a get out clause,” Nash shakes his head, “you have to admit to yourself more than anyone that this didn’t just happen.”

“I leaned in and I put my lips of hers, and I didn’t stop it, it didn’t feel wrong straight away,” I admit out loud finally.

“It didn’t?” Xander says, looking wounded.

“No, it didn’t feel wrong until I realised what I’d done,” I say, looking down, suddenly finding my shoelaces to be the most interesting thing in the world.

No one replies for a long while. That’s when I realise how exhausted I truly am and how much I crave sleep.

“I vouched for you,” Xander says quietly, “I told her that you’d never do that, that you weren’t that guy.”

“I’m not,” I say, in denial at first. I take a moment to analyse his sentence and then come to a sickening realisation, “oh my god I am…”

“She was already anxious about where your loyalties were Gray,” he winces.

“I proved her right, I proved every worry she had right, I just proved to her that she shouldn’t have trusted me,” I spiral, hating that I hadn’t seen it sooner.

Xander looks to Nash for support for a reply.

“Yeah,” Nash sighs, “you did.”

“I need to fix this, there has to be a way-“

“Grayson,” the acuteness of his voice cuts through my sentence like a machete.

I freeze and clamp my mouth firmly shut.

“This isn’t a broken vase, you can’t glue it back together or buy a new one,” he tells me softly.

He was referring to a time where Jameson and I had been seven and eights years old. We’d been brawling of course, Hawthorne style and accidentally smashed a vase. Usually it wouldn’t matter, there were vases all over Hawthorne House and they were smashed frequently. But this wasn’t just any vase. It was nan’s priceless vase that had belonged to her daughter, our grandmother, Alice. We were never allowed within a five mile radius of it, but like the rebellious children we were, we didn’t listen. Through our fight we’d smashed the whole thing, it was truly destroyed. The two of us stayed up for nights on need gluing together the pieces only to realise it was never going to look like the original again. So we’d hunted to buy another, problem was, this vase was one of a kind. It turned out after four weeks or trying to ship a similar one in that nan had known the whole time. She didn’t speak to either of us for a good few months.

“This is real life, she is a real person and you hurt her,” he explains, “fixing this isn’t an option. There isn’t a way to fix it, there are no pieces to our back together, okay?”

I’m silent but it’s the loudest voice in the room. My face pinches together in agony. For the first time, a little of the disappointment fades and my brother’s face softens. He wraps a strong arm around me and I flop into him like a lifeless bag of nothingness. I bury my head into his shoulder and try to cry but there seems to be no tears left. He understands and holds me for a moment. Suddenly I’m six years old again and crying in Nash’s in my arms over Jameson hiding my favourite teddy bear at the time, then I’m eleven in his arms with pneumonia after being stupid enough to get caught in the rapids un the dead of winter wanting a good photograph of a rare fish, then I’m seventeen, crying over a redheaded girl who I thought I’d managed to murder. And now here I am, at twenty-two years old in his grasp once again, having made the greatest mistake of my life.

Suddenly I feel another set of arms wrap around the both of us.

“Group hug!” a familiar voice sings.

Leave it to Xander to make me crack a half smile in the darkest moments I’ve ever experienced. After a while I pull away and sigh.

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” I ask, pulling away.

“Honestly?” Xander asks.

I nod

“No,” he says. I wish I could see that little glimmer of a lie in his eyes, but I can’t. And it kills me.

“Think about it like this,” he sighs, “would you forgive Eve for what she did?”

“This is not the same thing,” I reply coldly.

“Eve cheated your trust, she betrayed you,” he explains gently, “that’s exactly how she feels.”

Dread fills my every pore as I murmur lifelessly, “I’m as bad as Eve.”

“No wait,” he says, looking guilty and panicked all at the same time, “that’s not what I meant!”

“I know,” I reassure him so some of his guilt subsides, “but it’s true and now I’ve just realised.”

“Look Gray, you aren’t Eve. You’re never going to be Eve, but think of how you felt then. That’s how y/n feels,” Nash soothes, “she’s not going to just forgive you, that’s not how it works.”

“You just broke her heart Gray,” Xander adds, careful to keep his tone as light as a feather, “for a girl you just met.”

“Why am I horrible person? Why do I always find a way to mess to something good?” I groan, smacking my head on the wall behind me. There’s an audible thump as pain spreads through the back of my skull. I wonder if I can concuss myself to forget all of this, but I don’t attempt the idea.

“You don’t-“

“No I do,” I say firmly, cutting him off, “I’m not meant for love, to love or to be loved, I’m not built for it. I’m not a good enough person for it. I’m never going to find my Libby or my Max or my Avery.“

“Grayson-“ Nash begins.

“Emily knew it and now so does y/n,” I snap.

My brothers still at her name, not moving a muscle. I never bring up Emily.

“Listen to me,” Nash says sharply, getting my attention, “you are meant to be loved. You are meant to love. I love you, Xander loves you, Jameson loves you and y/n loved you too…”

The change of tense makes my soul ache.

“…but this time around, you made a mistake, a costly mistake. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love.”

I nod numbly, robotically.

“What can I do to make it up to her?” I ask, my voice beginning to tremble, “to show her I’m sorry? Something there has to be something.”

Nash gives me a grim look and Xander’s face remains blank, they’re the only answers I need. My head sinks into my hands. The door reopens and I look back up. Jameson has returned.

He meets my eyes, “Avery’s with her.”

Blood surges through my heart and I can almost smile. He checked on her. For me.

“Is she okay?” I ask quickly.

Jameson looks at me and for a split second I almost see the ghost concern is his eyes. He shakes his head softly, “no, but she will be,” he replies, it’s an attempt to comfort me and I am grateful.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

“I’m not apologising for what I said, because I still stand by it and you won’t change my mind,” Jameson says, “but I am sorry for being so angry about it.”

“You were right,” I whisper, “you were right about me. I never deserved her, so was nothing but an angel to me and I just turned around and threw it all away. I abused the luxury I had, I stabbed her in the back and then gifted another with the knife, I’m a horrible person.”

“What you did was wrong, but that’s doesn’t make you a horrible person,” he sighs, “you need time Gray, this is going to take a lot of healing. On both sides.”

“I don’t deserve to heal, I deserve to be in pain,” I murmur, the dullness in my tone echos around the empty walls.

“Oh no, we’re not going back to emo Grayson,” Xander says quickly, shaking his head.

“I agree with Xander on this one,” Nash nods, readjusting his cowboy hat.

“I don’t want to hear you blasting my chemical romance at three a.m and then denying it later again, you came out of that phase we’re not going back there,” Jameson tells me.

I bark out a laugh that thaws my icy chest. I then bite the inside of my cheek.

“I can’t fix this, can I?” I say, looking at the ground,

Nash shakes his head softly.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t be fixed,” Xander says.

“You’ll get through this Gray,” Jamie agrees, “I know it.”

The room grows still.

“Can we drink that whiskey now?” I ask, to cut through the silence. I feel like getting drunk, I feel like I need some relief.

“Big brother,” Xander nods at Nash handing him the bottle.

“Little brother,” he tips his cowboy hat in reply before taking the bottle into his hands and cracking it open.

“Let me pour these things properly,” Nash grins, “Jamie, come help.”

“Wait me too!” Xander jumps up,

“Stay with Gray,” he shakes his head.

“I don’t need to be babysat,” I grumble, annoyance written all over my face.

“I want to watch them pour whiskey properly,” Xander explains, “so I can impress Max.”

My eyebrows fly to my forehead, “Max drinks?”

“No I want to impress her though,” he grins.

‘You’re an odd human,” I almost laugh, tilting my head to the side.

“Why ta very much!” he says, almost skipping away.

Once I know they’re all gone, I lean back on the wall, my heart feeling a tiny bit less heavy. The pain isn’t gone. I think I’ve just gone numb. I feel hollow, empty, nothingness. Guilt is still gnawing at my insides but slower. A satifying clink against the fragile rim of the glass takes me out of my own head for a split second. There are hushed voices from the kitchen, I notice. I walk over to the door that lay ajar, I lean in to listen.

“We need to tell him,” it sounds like Jameson.

“Not now,” the accent indicates Nash.

“Then when?” Xander’s voice asks, “how long can we prolong it.”

“I can hear you,” I tell them, raising my voice a little.

They turn to face me, awkwardly remaining silent. The expressions on their faces don’t offer me comfort.

“Whatever it is, spit it out,” I say, “it’s not like tonight could get any worse.”

They share a look. Apparently it can. I feel sick to my stomach.

I can barely breathe, “who died?”

“No one has died,” Xander says quickly, “yet.”

“What?” I say, my tone deadly,

Nash glares at him, then turns back to me. There’s sorrow laced delicately, deep within his hazel irises.

“Gray,” he says gently, “Gray we hate to do this but…”

“What? What is it?” I ask urgently.

“Gigi’s missing.”

The words shock me to my core. I feel my throat begin the close up as panic returns with a smirk and triumphant greeting. My whole world has collapsed in less than 24 hours.

***

YOUR POV

I don’t hate him. Call me naive or call me stupid. But I don’t. I don’t think I ever could. The kind of love I have for him is unconditional, irrevocable. Time can’t heal a wound this deep and although it is still fresh now, I can tell. But if he were to say sorry I think I would forgive him every time. And if he asked me back I’d fall into his arms into an instant. And I hate myself for it, it’s stupid and it’s a little cruel. How easily I would take him back after what he did. I know I shouldn’t but something inside of me is drawn to him. Like an invisible magnet has been planted in our hearts. I wish I didn’t love so hard, fall so deeply, maybe I wouldn’t get hurt so badly. But it’s in my nature, it’s who I am. I wonder if he knows how much pain I’m in, the rippling agony that rolls across my chest relentlessly with no hint as to when it will cease. I’m tired of being the second choice but unfortunately I wouldn’t mind being his. And I know it’s completely stupid of me to think that way, completely wrong but love makes you do stupid things so they say. I sit on the beach, by the sea in a state of numbness. Silent tears roll down my tears as the waves lap my feet. Deja vu washes over me and the memories of Grayson and I the night of the game flash through my mind.

I grip his hand and run with him as he guides me the just beyond the shore. He sits down swiftly on the sand and pulls me down to sit between his legs. I lean my back onto his chest and let him nuzzle his face into my collarbone.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing my neck, “only you.”

Only me, huh? Only me…

The waves crash against the rocks, hurtling a salty spray towards me. I hear footsteps and turn around. Avery stands there, a mournful expression over her delicate face. She knows. I stumble towards her and collapse into her arms in a fit of uncontrollable sobs now and she holds me. Her touch is gentle and warm but it’s nothing compared to his. I realise he might never hold me in his arms again and I cry even harder.

***

I don’t hold Lyra accountable. She is not to blame. Some girls in my position might dream about different ways to brutally murder her but I can only ask what comfort would it bring me? My feelings are already dead, what good is more pain doing?

There was a choice that Grayson Hawthorne was given: his dancer or his angel. He chose his dancer and I hope he’s happy. Because angels have wings and we rise up stronger.

idk guys I think I wrote Grayson’s POV really awfully to be honest… also I feel like the 911 meet up was not like their normal ones where they try and like do something (e.g drink or dare) and then talk about the pain but that’s bc Grayson was in such a mess and then they had to drop the bomb that Gigi was missing. so anywayyyss…

I am sorry this took so long and I hope it lived up to any expectation you wanted it too (sorry if it didn’t) and I hope you enjoyed 🤍🤍 thanks for reading as always

TIG masterlist

[reaper2187]

Cairo sweet x female reader

As the school bell rings, a cacophony of chatter fills the hallways, mingling with the light scent of morning coffee and the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Amidst this teeming sea of students, you find yourself drawn to a solitary figure perched on a windowsill near the library.

Her name is Cairo Sweet, and your gaze lingers on her with a curious mix of fascination and trepidation. Her face, framed by a cascade of raven hair, is a canvas of exquisite features: piercing brown eyes that seem to hold a depth beyond her years, a delicate nose, and a mouth that curves into a mysterious smile.

As your eyes connect, you feel an unexpected surge of kinship. She is an enigma, an outsider, like you

 You have always felt like a square peg in a round hole, never quite fitting in with the preppy girls who gossip and giggle in the cafeteria. But in Cairo's gaze, you sense a glimmer of understanding.

With a hesitant step, you approach her. 'Excuse me,' you say softly. 'I'm new here. I couldn't help but overhear that you're Cairo Sweet. My name's [Your Name].'

A faint smile crosses her lips. 'Nice to meet you, [Your Name].'

You sit down beside her, your notebooks open in front of you. The silence between you is comfortable, almost inviting. As the minutes turn into hours, you share stolen glances, whispered secrets, and dreams that have long been buried within.

Cairo tells you about her life before Miller's Creek, her nomadic childhood, and her passion for writing. You, in turn, confide in her about your own struggles and aspirations. For the first time, you feel truly seen and understood.

As the day draws to a close, you and Cairo walk together to your lockers. Your fingers brush against hers, and a spark ignites within you. It is a spark of connection, a desire to be near her, to explore the forbidden realms that lie beyond friendship.

But your burgeoning feelings are met with trepidation. This is high school, after all, and societal norms dictate that girls should only date boys. You fear the repercussions of breaking these unspoken rules.

Undeterred, Cairo leans in and whispers, 'I think you're amazing, [Your Name]. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.'

Her words embolden you. You take her hand and lead her to an empty classroom. The soft glow of the setting sun filters through the windows, casting a warm and intimate light upon the two of you.

With trembling lips, you confess your feelings. To your surprise, Cairo reciprocates. Her kiss is gentle, tentative, and yet filled with an undeniable longing.

In that stolen moment, time stands still. The world outside fades away, leaving only you and Cairo, two hearts entwined in a secret dance of love.

As you reluctantly pull away, Cairo whispers, 'This is against the rules, but it feels so right.'

You smile. 'Maybe we're destined to be rebels.'

Your secret rendezvous becomes a solace amidst the turmoil of high school. You carve out hidden corners in the library, linger in the shadows of the hallways, and steal precious moments together on deserted benches. Your love grows stronger with each stolen kiss, each whispered promise.

But the walls of silence cannot hold indefinitely. Rumors spread like wildfire, and soon you find yourselves at the center of a storm of gossip and condemnation. Some students whisper words of support, but many more cast judgment upon your forbidden love.

As the pressure mounts, you and Cairo face an impossible choice. You could deny your feelings and conform to societal expectations, or you could embrace your love and risk the consequences.

Together, you choose the latter. Hand in hand, you walk through the hallways, ignoring the disapproving stares and hurtful comments. Your love is a beacon of defiance, a testament to the power of the human heart.

In the end, your resilience and unwavering bond silence the critics. Cairo and [Your Name] become a symbol of hope and acceptance for all who dare to love beyond the confines of societal norms.

And as the years go by, your love story becomes a legend whispered among the students of Miller's Creek, a tale of two girls who dared to defy the odds and find happiness in the most unexpected of places.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Now, this house may look like your average 1968 ranch style home in Camarillo, CA, but it's actually either a sexy place or some sort of business. I don't know if the equipment conveys, but take a look anyway. 3bds, 2ba, $899,999.

It's move-in ready. Note the security keypad, can't be too careful w/your toys and set-ups, nowadays. Note the jingle bells hanging, so you can ring when you enter.

Don't bother to look for a living room. The current occupants don't have a need for one. Maybe it's a place of business, I'm confused. Could that be a 2-way mirror where they sit at the table, have a snack, and watch the show?

Now, here's bd. #1 w/a sturdy looking bed that features a mirrored canopy and ropes or pulley's, I don't know. It looks like it may jack up and down. Again, I don't know.

Bath #1 is a small shower room.

In this room, that wall hides a large Murphy bed.

See?

Is this a teen's room?

Bedroom #3 also has a rope/system with another one attached to the ceiling.

It'a a little tight in here.

And, then, here's bath #2. The toilet and tub can be closed off by a curtain.

Maybe this is a treatment room of some sort? Unless it's a play Dr. room. I'm so confused. Note the chain on the ceiling and on the wall. According to the floor plan, it's a treatment room (wink, wink).

Then, there's the pole dancing room. No matter what this house is, it's so cold and unwelcoming.

The laundry room.

And, in here there's a nice pool room.

That looks like a canvas house. Why do they need a tent house? I'm afraid to ask.

In the yard, they have a pergola, seating, a BBQ grill and a hot tub (I wonder if the base it's on rotates).

Plus, there's another covered place to sit and a putting green.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/2249-Lonsdale-St-Camarillo-CA-93010/16366937_zpid/?

[unidentifiedly]

Eventful Morning

Micah Bell x reader

- In which Micah almost scares the reader to death. Or at the very least, scares them enough for it to have consequences.

"Tip, tip, tip" Soft sounds of rain droplets made their way into your ears.

"No, no. Just a few more minutes." You thought to yourself, unable to open your eyes just yet. Slowly but surely you adjusted to the idea of waking up and opened your eyes. The off white canvas tent filtered the morning light beautifully. Glancing around yourself, looking for your favourite blouse and overdress, your gaze fell on the small dusty mirror in front of you, perched atop a trunk and supported by a stack of hardcover copies of romance novels.

In the mirror, yourself staring right back. You glanced at the intricately engraved brass pocket watch by the side of the bed. The watch itself was a birthday gift from Arthur a couple months back. The arms reaching toward four and twelve, it was way too early to get up and start one's day. Yet, here you were.

Softly humming to yourself you tied your hair up lazily with a ribbon, deciding to spend the hours of the morning organizing your safe haven. The gang had only recently arrived at the new spot, Horseshoe Overlook they called it. Far too east for Arthur's liking, but to you about anything sounded better than heading back up those cold mountains toward Colter. You were used to it at this point, the constant moving around. It was a way of life that held you tightly in its grip.

That being said, the new camp was still unorganized and there was sure to be work around that needed doing. This was a chance to have some private time, peace and quiet for yourself.

Sorting through the mementos and trinkets from throughout the years was quick, you wiped the dust off of the little mirror with the corner of your nightgown. Gathering up the few clothes you had laying around and neatly folding them up you realized the growing pile of fabric by the end of your bed was clothes and linen that needed washing, not something that should just be sorted back into the trunks right away. "I think it was Charles who mentioned there was a river just west of here?" Mumbling to yourself, you picked up the dirty clothes and put them in a basket, not bothering to dress up all the way. "Everyone will be asleep at this hour anyways, and if not, it'll be Miss Grimshaw awake. It's nothing that'll bother her too much." Pulling on your trusty leather boots you untied the strings holding the fabric flap door of your tent shut. A prompt walk to your horse, a beautiful paint mare, and you were off along with your basket of laundry. With the carelessness, soft hums and the skip on your step you failed to notice a pair of eyes watch you leave the camp. The observer finished smoking his cicarette, let his legs fall from the log they were resting on while chucking the cigarette butt over his shoulder, and rubbed his hands together. What on on God's green Earth were you up to this early in the morning, and barely dressed to boot?

The sound of a running stream reached your ears fast. Charles had of course been right, even a blind man would notice the Dakota River from this close by. Hopping off your horse and tying the reins to a nearby tree you swung the basket on your elbow and kicked the boots off your feet, walking straight into the cold running water. Oh how sweet the feeling was! In a low point of the river, a rock stood taller than the surface of the water, so you took a seat and began the chore.

"Eeeasy there boy" Micah huffed to Baylock, staying well hidden in the trees, observing you from afar. A smirk spread on his lips as he saw your boots and gun belt scattered on the riverbank, and you sitting on a rock in the middle of the water, with your back facing him. Dismounting with an agile leap, he slowly but surely started making his way toward you.

Completely lost in your activity and the sweet warm sunshine of the spring morning you were singing to yourself, getting ready to leave. Looking at the last blouse, and squeezing the extra water out of it a surprisingly strong wave hit the rock and splashed water all over you, soaking your thin white linen undergarments. "Fuck!" You stood up and turned around, screaming out loud.

"Mic- Mr.Bell! What the fuck are you doing?"

Keeping his eyes locked on your body, his smirk widened, his arms reaching out toward you. "Just call me Micah, and I could ask ya the same thing, sweetcheeks. Now come on here." He beckoned with his hands, but you refused.

"No, I don't think so, you can't just creep up on me like that Mr Bell. I could have dropped my laundry basket, or worse, fallen down and then drowned out of shock!"

You took a step back, lifting the now heavier basket full of wet clothes up to rest against your hipbone.

For every step you took back, Micah took one forward, and the man had both the advantage of longer legs and facing the direction he was going. It didn't take long for things to go south.

"I'm warning you Mr Bell, I'm going to tell Arthur about this, and you know he is not going to be happy!" You tried in vain.

"Hrmph. The cowpoke ain't got nothing to do with how I conduct my business with a lady such as yerself."

You were taken aback, "what did you just call me? You never- Ah!"

Slipping on a rock and falling back, you reached out to Micah for support, and closed your eyes in anticipation of the cold hard surface of the river. The sensation never came.

"Gotcha." Eyeing down at you was Micah, who effortlessly supported your almost naked body by your waist and left arm. "Now how about ya let me show you a good time as a thanks?" One of his eyebrows rising up and his face forming a seductive expression.

You, however, were too occupied to notice or care. "Micah you idiot! All of my clothes are fucking gone!"

And indeed, the river was decorated with the various pieces of clothing running merrily downstream, way too fast to catch up to.

"Well, ya won't be needin' any of those for th- Ow!" "Shut the fuck up and help me get dressed before anyone else notices!"

The ride to the camp was one of the worst you had ever experienced. For Micah, it was the opposite. A prideful smirk on his cocky face, throwing you the occasional remark about the curve of your waist and ass, and how good you looked in just his jacket as you rode, and making no attempts to be quiet and discreet as you arrived in camp. You tried your best to ignore him and get away from the situation as quickly as possible. Hopping off your horse, not even bothering to tie the rains to the hitchpost, you walked briskly toward your tent only to run straight into Sean.

"Oi, watch where ya- Y/N, wow, let me tell ya, could not see this one comin'!" A smirk instantly grew on his face, and he slapped a hand on Micah's jacket, on your shoulder.

"Sean it's NOT what it looks like, and don't you dare mention this to anyone either!" You whisper yelled while taking off the jacket, exposing your still wet and thus transparent garments. Sean blushed bright red, poor guy, and you stomped right in to your tent.

Not being able to face the rest of the day, the longer you stayed in your tent the more intimidating the prospect of leaving felt. Surely Sean had told everyone about what he saw, and you'd be mocked til eternity.

No, there was no way you'd ever leave that tent again.

A few hours later you were starving for a snack and stuck your head out to find the main area empty. Great! An opening. As soon as you stepped out, a voice rang: "Y/N!" You turned around, mouth open to start defending yourself, only to face a very noticeably beat-up looking Sean. "Listen, sorry about the earlier, I never saw nothing, alright?" You nodded in confusion and he smiled, thanked you quickly and scurried off. You got the food you were after, and returned to your tent to eat it. There, on your cot, rested a shirt and a dress, folded in a way which looked like a very bad attempt, with a piece of paper on top. There, in barely legible rough handwriting:

"The idiot won't bother ya about it. M"

You smiled to yourself, feeling the fabric of the clothes. Both of good quality fabrics, a white undershirt and a red simple dress. Just like the ones you usually wear every day.

Observing from a distance as you emerged from your tent in your red dress, Micah Bell smiled to himself as he sharpened his knife, softly murmuring to himself: "Gotcha ta call me by my name at least. That's a start."

note: Yay! My first ever piece of writing I've published online :) do suggest if you get any good ideas and like my writing style.

[elbertsbabygirl]

Title: Wounds of the heart

Nica X Y/n Reader

Note: Hello Robins I missed you all so much it's been A months since I started posting for Fanfiction story because of work I stopped posting for a while but I am here now to present on our new boy in our ikemen villians JP server I hope you enjoy our boy!! Love u all

A field hospital near the frontlines of the war between Germany and England. The sounds of distant gunfire and the occasional explosion can be heard outside, but within the tent, it’s quiet except for the soft rustling of bandages and the murmurs of the wounded.

Y/n is gently tending to the wounds of Nica Schwartz, a German soldier with a mix of pain and intrigue in his eyes. His face is marred by dirt and blood, but his gaze remains fixed on Y/n as she works.

Nica: (His voice is low, almost a whisper, as if testing the waters) "You’re far too kind for this place, Y/n. Someone like you shouldn’t be here, surrounded by all this death.

"Y/n: (She pauses, meeting his gaze with a mix of firmness and softness) "And what about you, Nica? You speak as if you’re any different. War has taken its toll on us all.

"Nica: (A ghost of a smile plays on his lips as he leans in slightly) "Perhaps. But I’ve never met someone like you. So gentle, yet strong. You make me forget, if only for a moment, that we’re on opposite sides of this madness."Y/n’s hands still for a brief second as she processes his words. She’s heard such lines before from soldiers trying to charm their way out of pain, but something about Nica’s tone is different—dangerously sincere.

Y/n: (A soft sigh escapes her as she resumes her work, her voice barely above a whisper) "This war… it’s not something we can forget, Nica. It’s always there, lurking in the background."

Nica: (His expression shifts, a flicker of something darker crossing his face before he softens again) "But what if, just for tonight, we pretended it wasn’t? Just for a few moments, Y/n… let’s be two people, not a nurse and a soldier. No England. No Germany. Just… us."

Y/n feels a tug at her heart, but she’s wary, knowing that Nica’s words could be just another game. Still, the way he looks at her, as if she’s the only thing keeping him tethered to humanity, stirs something deep within her.

Y/n: (She finishes bandaging his wound and meets his gaze, her voice tender yet firm) "You speak as if we have a choice, Nica. But we don’t. Not really. The war will always be there, between us."

Nica: (He reaches out, gently taking her hand in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as he speaks with a mix of sincerity and something more elusive) "Maybe. But I’ve never been one to follow the rules. And I think, deep down, neither are you."

Y/n’s heart skips a beat at his touch, and despite the alarm bells ringing in her mind, she doesn’t pull away. There’s something about Nica that draws her in, like a moth to a flame. She knows she should be cautious, but in this moment, all she feels is the warmth of his hand in hers.

Y/n: (Her voice is soft, almost hesitant) "Nica… I…

"Nica leans in closer, his voice a hushed whisper that sends shivers down Y/n’s spine.

Nica: "Just for tonight, Y/n. Let’s forget the world outside this tent. Let’s just be…

"The tension in the air is palpable as Y/n’s mind races. She knows she should step back, remind herself of the boundaries, but something in Nica’s eyes holds her there, teetering on the edge of something she can’t quite name.

Y/n: (She finally whispers, her voice barely audible) "Just for tonight…"

As the words leave her lips, Nica’s grip tightens slightly on her hand, a silent promise of something more, something dangerous yet alluring. And in that moment, as the world outside continues to burn, Y/n and Nica are just two souls seeking solace in each other’s presence, if only for a fleeting moment.

The night deepens, and the sounds of war outside become a distant hum. Inside the tent, the soft glow of a lantern casts flickering shadows on the canvas walls. Y/n and Nica sit close, their hands still entwined, the tension between them thickening with every passing second.

Nica: (He tilts his head slightly, his voice low and almost teasing) "Tell me, Y/n, have you ever thought about what you’d do when this is all over? When the war is just a memory?

Y/n: (She hesitates, her eyes searching his, trying to decipher his intentions) "I… I haven’t allowed myself to think that far ahead. It seems almost impossible to imagine a life beyond this."

Nica: (He leans closer, his breath warm against her skin as he speaks, his tone more serious now) "You should. A woman like you deserves to dream of something better. A life where you’re not surrounded by blood and pain."

Y/n feels a pang in her chest, a reminder of the harsh reality she’s living in. But Nica’s words, though seductive, are also tinged with a sadness that tugs at her heart.

Y/n: (She tries to pull back, to distance herself from the emotions swirling inside her, but Nica’s grip on her hand tightens, keeping her close) "And what about you, Nica? Do you dream of a life beyond the war?"

Nica: (His eyes darken slightly, a shadow passing over his face) "I used to. Before… everything. But now… my dreams feel as distant as the stars. Perhaps that’s why I find myself here, with you. You make me feel like there might still be something worth dreaming about."

Y/n’s breath catches in her throat at his words. She knows she should be wary, that Nica’s intentions might not be as pure as they seem. But there’s something in his voice, a vulnerability that she can’t ignore.

Y/n: (Her voice is soft, almost pleading) "Nica… I don’t know if I can trust you. We’re on opposite sides of this war. How can we even think about… anything beyond this moment?"

Nica: (He leans in, his forehead almost touching hers, his voice a hushed whisper filled with an intensity that sends shivers down her spine) "Trust is a fragile thing, Y/n. But I’m willing to take the risk, if you are. Let’s leave the war outside this tent. Just for tonight, let’s pretend…"

Y/n closes her eyes, feeling the warmth of Nica’s presence, the steady beat of his heart through his chest. She knows this is dangerous, that she’s treading on thin ice. But the way he looks at her, with a mix of desperation and hope, makes her want to believe in the possibility of something more.

Y/n: (Her voice is barely a whisper, filled with a mix of fear and longing) "What are we doing, Nica?"

Nica: (He gently cups her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek as he looks deeply into her eyes, his voice soft and sincere) "We’re holding onto the only thing that feels real in this madness. Each other."

For a moment, everything else fades away—the war, the pain, the uncertainty. All that exists is the two of them, caught in a moment of shared vulnerability and the flickering hope of something beyond the horrors of war.

Y/n’s heart races, her emotions a tangled mess of fear, desire, and the yearning for something more than the life she’s known. And in that moment, she makes a decision—a small, quiet one, but one that will change everything.

Y/n: (Her voice trembles slightly as she speaks, her heart in her words) "Just for tonight, Nica… let’s pretend."

Nica’s eyes soften, a rare, genuine smile curving his lips as he leans in and presses a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. The gesture is tender, almost reverent, and it makes Y/n’s heart ache with the realization of how much she’s come to care for this enigmatic, dangerous man.

Nica: (His voice is a whisper against her skin) "Just for tonight."

And as the night stretches on, Y/n allows herself to fall into the fantasy, if only for a few fleeting hours, knowing that when the dawn breaks, they will both have to face the harsh realities of the world outside. But for now, in the safety of the tent, they have each other—and for tonight, that is enough.

LOVE MAKING SCENE!! ( MINORS DON'T INTERACT SKIP THIS!!)

The night has grown quieter, with the distant sounds of the war almost completely muffled. Inside the tent, the lantern's soft glow bathes Y/n and Nica in a warm, golden light. They sit close together, their hands still entwined, hearts beating in sync as the tension between them reaches its peak.Y/n can feel the weight of Nica’s gaze on her, his eyes filled with a mixture of emotions—desire, tenderness, and something deeper, something that she’s been trying to ignore but can no longer deny.

Nica: (His voice is low, filled with an emotion he’s no longer trying to hide) "Y/n… I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re… everything I never knew I needed."

His words send a shiver down Y/n’s spine. She knows she should be cautious, that she’s walking a dangerous path, but she can’t stop the way her heart leaps at his confession. Her breath hitches as Nica’s hand gently cups her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek with a tenderness that makes her chest tighten.

Y/n: (Her voice is barely a whisper, filled with both fear and longing) "Nica… this is crazy. We shouldn’t…"

Nica: (He leans in closer, his forehead resting against hers as he speaks softly, his breath warm against her lips) "I know. But I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to think about what we should or shouldn’t do. I just want to be here, with you."

Y/n’s heart races, her resolve crumbling as she feels the warmth of Nica’s touch, the sincerity in his voice. She’s tried to resist, to keep her emotions in check, but in this moment, with the world outside forgotten, all she can think about is him.Slowly, almost hesitantly, Nica closes the small gap between them. His lips hover over hers for a brief, agonizing second, giving Y/n a moment to pull away, to stop this before it goes any further. But instead, she finds herself leaning in, closing the distance, her eyes fluttering shut as their lips finally meet.The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if both are afraid to fully give in. But as the seconds pass, the tension and longing that have been building between them finally break free. Nica’s hand slides to the back of Y/n’s neck, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss with a desperation that matches the pounding of his heart.Y/n melts into him, her hands slipping up to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his uniform as she loses herself in the kiss. All the fear, the doubts, the war—all of it fades away, leaving only the two of them, connected in a moment of pure, unfiltered emotion.Nica’s kiss is filled with a passion that takes Y/n’s breath away, his lips moving against hers with an intensity that leaves her dizzy. She can feel the depth of his emotions in every movement, every touch—this is not just a kiss; it’s a confession, a plea, a promise.Y/n’s heart swells with emotions she can no longer deny. She’s falling, and she knows it, but she can’t bring herself to stop. Not now. Not when Nica is holding her like she’s the only thing keeping him grounded, like she’s his last link to humanity in a world gone mad.As the kiss deepens, Nica pulls her even closer, his other hand wrapping around her waist, holding her as if he’s afraid she might disappear. Y/n responds in kind, her own arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him in as if trying to fuse them together, to make this moment last forever.

Time seems to stand still as they pour everything they’ve been feeling into the kiss—every fear, every hope, every longing they’ve kept hidden. It’s as if the world outside has ceased to exist, and all that matters is the two of them, lost in each other.Finally, after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, they slowly pull back, their foreheads still pressed together, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. Y/n’s heart is pounding, her lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss, but she doesn’t pull away. Neither does Nica.

Nica: (His voice is hoarse, filled with raw emotion as he speaks, his lips brushing against hers as he does) "Y/n…"

Y/n doesn’t let him finish. Instead, she closes the distance again, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that’s just as desperate, just as full of love as the first. She’s no longer thinking, no longer worrying about the consequences. All she knows is that she needs this—needs him.They kiss again and again, each one more passionate than the last, as if trying to make up for all the time they’ve spent denying their feelings. Y/n can feel the love in every touch, every caress, and she knows, deep down, that this moment is real. This love is real.When they finally break apart again, both are breathless, their hearts racing, but neither pulls away. Nica rests his forehead against hers, his breath warm and uneven as he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Nica: "I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, Y/n. But right now, I know that I love you."

Y/n’s eyes well up with tears at his words, and she can’t help but smile through them. She’s scared—terrified, even—but in this moment, she knows she feels the same.

Y/n: (Her voice is soft, filled with all the love she’s been holding back) "I love you too, Nica. I think… I always have."

And with that, they kiss again, sealing their confessions with the kind of love that can only be born in the midst of chaos. For tonight, at least, they have each other—and that’s all they need.

With that, they settle back into each other’s arms, holding on tightly as if afraid to let go. The night continues to stretch on, but for Y/n and Nica, time has lost its meaning. All that matters now is their love and the promise they’ve made to each other.As they drift off to sleep, their fingers still intertwined, the outside world fades away, leaving only the two of them—two souls bound together by love, determined to fight for their future, no matter the cost.

I hope you guys enjoyed This I love you guys so much and I promise to make it up to you all to post more fanfics🥰

Taglist: @lilaccosmic @sh0jun @natimiles @judejazza @candiedcoffeedrops

[huffle-dork]

Long Live the King

Chapter 8: Under Elder Wings

Read Fantasy Masks | Read Swapboys | Read the first FM adventure | Other Multiverse Adventures | Read on AO3

The first day on the ship passes without much fuss.

Until, that is, the time the Swaps sat with the Phantoms to make their masks late on the first day. 

It was a bit chaotic, trying to hold a bucket of water still on a shifting and ever swaying deck. But that’s how you make the plaster, after all. Mixing the dried plaster with water, The boys all take turns holding the bucket still. 

The Swaps wanted to be a bit more unique with their masks, but also stick with the Phantoms’ rules. Dr. J ends up making a dove mask, though he uses a base from the Phantom’s to do so. It’s plain and simple, which suits him just fine. 

Jackieboy thinks back to his childhood in Ireland and decides to make pine marten- or how his mam used to call them ‘cat crainn’. He remembers begging his mam to have one as a kid! 

Henny decides to get very creative and makes a hedgehog- mostly because Alt and Bro had shown him that hedgehog game they loved so much and he thought they were adorable! And his friends thought he was too! 

There was a scary moment where Henny thought to mold the masks to fit their faces he’d need to squeeze the wet plaster onto his own face. Luckily, everyone rushed to stop him and they all had a great laugh, much to Henny’s embarrassment. 

Bro watches and helps his friends make their masks, but can’t help feeling a bit sad. Alt really would have enjoyed this… 

Once the masks are dry, the fantasy boys tell the Swaps what their symbols mean. Marvin encourages Henny to put the magician suits on his mask for his magic. Dr. J, already sticking with a bird to fit the theme the doctors had, is proud to add the healer symbol to his mask. And Jackieboy adds the fighter symbol, like his other self and Bro. He might not be the best fighter yet- but he had time to learn. 

The second day passes by with even more ease.

Until, about two hours before sunset, the sound of a bell rings out. 

"Land ho!" one of the crew members shouts. In the distance there are tall cliffs overlooking a slight pebbly beach. Waves lap at the shore and the rocks surrounding the cliffs. And perched on the top is a camp made of many, many canvas tents of varying colors. It stays about fifty to a hundred feet away from the edge, but as beautiful as the location is, it still seems a bit risky.

Jackieboy looks from where he was lounging on some of the rigging and then excitedly stands up and looks out. “Yahoo!” He says and then scales down to join his friends. He’s had a lot of practice the past few days. 

Henny had run over the look out the side of the ship and grins wide as he sees the landscape. “Oh wow! So pretty!!” 

“…and dangerous- why are the tents so close to the cliff??” Dr. J mutters in confusion. 

"They're not that close," Jackie says defensively. 

"They're pretty close," Chase says. 

Jackie hesitates. "Look, I wasn't actually there when they decided where the camp would go. Me and Henrik were sort of... wandering through the foothills... heading here slowly." 

Bro looks up from where he was training, as he’s been doing most days. Then, Jackieboy lands beside him and Bro grins. “You’re getting pretty good at that!” 

Jackieboy laughs, “I gotta see if I can rent a boat back home and do some videos on one man- it’s been so much fun!”

Marvin comes up from below deck. He looks a bit pale, but not really sick. "I heard the bell. Are we there?" 

"Yes," Jackie says. 

"Finally!" 

Are you okay, Marvin? Jameson asks. 

"I just... still don't like ships, I think," Marvin mutters. "Not like some people." He looks at Jackieboy. 

Henny tries to give Marvin a gentle smile. “It’s good to see you though!” 

Dr. J nods with Marvin, “The tonic made it easier but yeah… I think I much prefer dry land… or at least easier waters…”

"I think if you were from this world, Vsevna would be begging you to join his crew." Marvin tells Jackieboy. 

Jackieboy grins wide at Marvin and laughs, “If I was from this world, I’d probably join! Maybe I was meant to be a sailor in another life!” 

"Where are he and Henrik, anyway?" Jackie asks. 

"Cabin," Chase says. When Jackie and Marvin laugh, he shakes his head. "Don't think like that. I think it's something serious." 

Jackie becomes serious in turn. "Maybe he's telling Vsevna about his curse." 

"Hope that goes well," Marvin mutters. "If it doesn't, I'm going to hex Vsevna."

Dr. J looks towards the cabin with concern, “Oh yes… his curse. …Vsenva is a good man, I’m sure he’ll understand.” 

Henny agrees, nodding. “Yes! And he cares for other me so much! I see it in his eyes- it is very sweet!”

Jackie chuckles. "Yea, Henrik probably has nothing to worry about with Vsevna. He just... worries too much." 

"Well, let's give him time," Marvin says. 

Is there anything we can do to help the crew? Jameson asks. 

"I don't think I've learned much about all the ship stuff," Chase says slowly. "Not enough to help." 

"Have you actually learned anything about the ship while climbing all over it, Jackieboy?" Jackie asks. "Or do you just like climbing?"

Jackieboy beams, “Actually! I learned a ton! The lads working up there taught me a bunch! Like the ropes that hold each mast up are called the shrouds- and the ladders hung between shrouds are called rat lines! And you should try to have a least 3 parts of your body touching or you could fall- and you go up there to either tie the gaskets or pack it up! Or use the crow’s nest to see land!” 

Dr. J stares, his mouth a bit agape. “you learned all that in two days?!” 

“Wasn't hard! And it was interesting!” 

“That is so cool, Jackie!!” Henny says excitedly. 

“That was way too many words for me to process but proud of you, man!” Bro laughs. 

As the crew runs around unloading things and preparing the rowboats, the guys from this world listen, impressed, to Jackieboy. 

"He's like you," Jackie says, nudging Marvin. 

"Huh? He's literally you." 

"No, I mean, you can learn so fast about magic and stuff." 

"You can learn so fast about combat and stuff." 

"Okay, okay, fine." 

Jackieboy laughs, “I can learn lots of things if I hyperfixate! The downside is I usually can’t focus on anything else.”

“And yet you got C’s in college-“ JJ says with a laugh and shake of his head, “Jackie Mann, you are a wonder.” 

Jackie grins, “I try!” 

Chase tilts his head. "What's, um... 'kahlledsh'?" 

I don't think that's how you say it at all, Jameson says, grinning.

Dr. J blinks then hides his laugh behind his hand, “College” he repeats slowly, “Usually we call it university or uni. It’s a school, typically for younger adults who go to learn about things they wanna pursue later in life. Bro, Jackie and I all went to the same one.” 

“That’s how we met!” Jackieboy smiles, “Though- I didn’t become good friends with Bro until he saved me from a bad fall.” 

Bro grins and brings Jackieboy in to noogie him. “You’re so lucky you didn’t break your neck!” 

At that very moment, Henrik appears seemingly out of nowhere. "I've heard there are higher schools like that all across the southern continent." 

"Holy Elders' flame!" Jackie gasps, hand instinctively going to his sword before he quickly lets go. "Where did you come from?!" 

"Somewhere else," Henrik says vaguely. If they look closely, they might notice that his eyes are a bit red. 

"Everything... doing fine?" Chase asks. 

Henrik smiles. "Yes, everything is fine, thank you. Great, in fact." 

Marvin relaxes. "Good to hear. So... there are these kallesh--k-kollesh--kolledzh--schools on other continents?" 

"Yes, I hear there are some in Saelas too," Henrik says. "Though Saelas is fond of its philosophy and such, so all the schools there will be devoted to that. In the south you can have a great time learning about whatever knowledge you want. History, art, medicine, maths, magic. They are very well-learned down there. Nemet told me once that they have a great library in her home country of Kha'Nephthys, one where a copy of every book is stored. Not sure how true that can be, but it is what she claimed." 

“Ah like the library of Alexandria!” Dr. J says with sparkling eyes, “Oh… that would be a sight to see…” But, he looks back to the others and smiles, “But yes, the southern schools Henrik described are like our universities. There’s a lot of different subjects to study- which is how the three of us ended up at the same school despite our different life paths.” 

Henny sighs, “I wish I could have studied at university! We could not afford it in my time.” 

"That would be a nice place to go," Marvin says, eyes lighting up. 

"Sounds boring," Jackie says. 

"I'd be a bit curious..." Chase says. 

I always wanted to learn more music, do you think I could learn music there? Jameson wonders. 

Henrik chuckles. "Yes, you could learn music there. You could learn just about anything." 

Meanwhile, the crew is lowering one of the boats into the water. Vsevna approaches the group. "Would you all like to row out first, again?" he asks the swaps. "Ankhi and Felicia would be happy to help." 

It's obvious that he starts holding Henrik's hand as soon as he walks over, their pinkies hooked together. Literally everyone notices. 

Henny sees them holding hands and he gasps lightly, putting his hands on his cheeks in exaggerated glee. Jackieboy notices Henny getting too excited and drags him over, “Yeah, that sounds good! Wouldn’t wanna get in the way!” 

Bro blinks, “I can help unload if you all need again-“

"Your help was greatly appreciated, if you would like," Vsevna says to Bro. 

Bro grins, “It’s no problem!” He hurries off to go help. 

“And the rest of you." Vsevna gestures at the boat. "I suggest you get in a rowboat now if you are afraid of heights and do not want to climb down the side." 

Marvin raises his hand. "Can I--" 

Let's help unload, Marvin, Jameson interrupts, then starts pulling him off. 

"Oh! Alright, Jair, fine."

The other swaps laugh a bit at Marvin being dragged away. “We’ll head to the rowboats then, see you all on land!” Dr. J says cheerfully. 

"I'll come with you guys," Chase says. "Make sure they know you're all friendly." 

Jackieboy looks at the rigging sadly and pats some of the ropes. “It was fun while it lasted-“ 

“Oh don’t be dramatic, Jackie, c’mon-“ JJ sighs and starts dragging Jackieboy towards the rowboats. Henny giggles and waves to the others before following after them. 

The two sailors, Ankhi and Felicia, greet them warmly, and soon the group is in the rowboat and heading towards the cliffs. It's a bit more of a rocky ride than the one coming to the ship, but still tolerable. They touch down on the pebbly beach and Felicia points out a steep path up to the tops. "We'll stay until we see you reach there," she says.

Dr. J smiles, “Thank you!” He’s so thankful to be back on dry land but when they step off- he and Henny seem to wobble- like they can still feel the waves. They unfortunately cling to Jackieboy, who tries to help them up the path towards the top of the cliff.

Henny seems to get his land legs back pretty quickly, much to his relief. But, after a near face plant and tons of intense swaying, Dr. J is practically plastered to Jackie’s side as they make their way up.

Chase isn't doing much better than JJ, clinging to the rock wall of the cliffs. "Oh thank the Elders," he breathes once they reach the top.

 A woman in a bear mask walks over. "Who--oh, Chase!" 

"Hey Holly." Chase gives her a weak smile. 

"Still on your sea legs, I see?" Holly chuckles. "Who're these guys?" 

"Visitors. The me from another world is here, too, but he's still on the boat. These are his friends." Chase gestures at them. "Jackieboy, JJ, and Henny." 

"Dyakibadh, Dayday, Henni?" Holly shakes her head. "I'll get used to those names eventually." She smiles at them. "Welcome to the Cliffs of Feall, boys."

Henny smiles wide at Holly, “Hello Miss Holly! Thank you for the warm welcome!” 

Dr. J wobbles in Jackieboy’s grip and he has to grab the doctor before he falls, “Careful doc- not so fast…” 

“I am never going on a boat again…” JJ moans, looking nauseous.

Holly chuckles. "Not a fan of them myself. I'm guessing they're unloading right now. Here, come sit down. We have a central fire up." 

It is a bit chilly out here, with the wind from the sea. 

“Ah… thank you…” Dr. J breathes, suppressing a shiver from the cold air. Jackieboy also tries not to show he’s cold as they eagerly head towards the fire. 

As the first group closes the distance to camp, the rowboats back at the ship set off. Henrik stays on deck for a moment, then quickly joins Bro and the others in the boat, his face very red. Back on deck there's an audible "Oooooo!" like a sitcom laugh track, followed by Vsevna yelling defensively. Henrik's face gets more red. 

"Let's not say anything for once," Marvin mutters to Jackie, who nods. Jameson gives Henrik a supportive smile.

Bro looks back at that boat and Henrik’s expression before he grins. But he doesn’t poke fun, just claps Henrik on the shoulder.

"Um... does the rest of the camp know about our... quest?" Chase asks as they walk, Jackieboy and Dr. J just slightly ahead. 

"Marvin told everyone. Or, he told some of us and it spread from there. And we've had bags of supplies packed for you all when you return, in case you wanted to head out immediately." 

Chase smiles. "Thank you. But I think we'll need some time. And these four are coming with us, too, so we'll need more than whatever you've already packed." 

Holly nods. "Got it. I'll tell Ana and her guys."

Henny stays closer to Chase in case he needs help over to the fire- but also to talk more with Holly. “You are all so prepared! But I guess that does make sense since this is an important quest you are going on.” 

Holly nods. "Indeed! I've never heard of anything like this happening out of stories." 

"Me neither," Chase mutters. "I can't believe King Samuel and the Elder Horned One have gotten together to get me into the Wyldwood." 

"It's wild, isn't it? You, from the other worlds, have you learned about our King Samuel?" 

Henny blinks, “King Samuel? I do not believe we have heard anything about him yet…” He looks to JJ to confirm. Dr. J shakes his head, then regrets it. 

"Oh, I can take it from here," Chase says to Holly. "King Samuel the Green-Eyed was the first King of Glasúil. A long time ago, there were seven clans on the island. Samuel was of the Seipteach clan. He became its leader and then, through both combat and negotiation, he united all the others. The kingdom is called Glasúil because it means 'green eyes' in an older version of our language." He laughs. "And that man's ghost wants to see me." 

Dr. J chuckles, “I did wonder where the name Glasuil came from… now I know!” 

Henny seems enthralled by the story, “Oh! His ghost is still around?? He must want to help you with that spirit!” 

Chase laughs a bit. “I guess so. We didn’t even know he was a ghost until he appeared to Marvin. Maybe this spirit is making such a mess of things that he returned from after life.” 

As he explains, the group arrives in the camp. It's bustling, with people rushing about, all of them having a white Phantom mask somewhere on their person. They glance at the swaps as they appear, but dismiss them when they see they have masks as well. 

Jackieboy glances at everyone as he helps lead Dr. J in and then grins, flicking the pine marten mask around his neck. “Man- these things are handy~!”

“Only if you don’t have glasses to wear-“ Dr. J mutters, his own dove mask clipped to his belt. 

“Well it sure beats all the stares we got when we first got onto the Serpent’s Wake!” 

Soon they reach a central fire. Flat stones have been piled up in a low wall around a large fire. A cauldron hands on a spit nearby ready for dinnertime. Chests and boxes serve as seats.

Jackie helps Dr. J to sit down before sitting down next to him on a larger chest. JJ lightly lays his head against him. “My mask is very cute… but yes the glasses do make it tricky…” Henny says with a light frown, fidgeting with his hedgehog mask as he takes a seat by his friends. 

Meanwhile, the rest of the rowboats have finally landed. Jackie gets out first, looks at the steep path, and shakes his head. “Even with us leaving some supplies behind, I don’t know how we’re getting everything back up. I don’t know how we got it down in the first place.” 

“Very carefully,” Henrik says. “And with some lightening charms.”

Bro looks at the cliff and then scoffs with a sly grin. He looks to the others and points his thumb at himself, "Also before- you didn't have Bro Fantastic to help! This is no big~!" 

Jackie laughs. "That's true. If you're able to fly some stuff up the side of the cliffs, that would be great." 

"We can carry the stuff we took down in the first place," Marvin says, securing the straps on his bag.

Bro grins wide and give a two fingered salute to the others, "No problem!" He flies off to start grabbing the heavy stuff to fly up to the cliff side.

“Thank you!” Jackie shouts. He turns back to the others. “Everyone else, grab at least one thing.” 

Bro grabs as much as he can carry and flies up to the edge of the cliff, looking around to find a good empty place to put them. He’s balancing things a bit precariously in his arms.

“Bro! There!” Jackie gestures to a clear spot—looking like one of those airline workers with the glowing stick. Marvin grabs his focus and prepares a levitation spell to help out Bro. 

Bro laughs at the sight of Jackie and then hurries to place the stuff where he pointed. Then, he dives back down to get any more supplies and repeats as many time as they need.

Some time later, everything is up on the top of the cliffs. I can’t wait to see the others, Jameson says. It feels like it’s been forever. 

“Let’s go to it, then!” Henrik says cheerfully. Him and Jameson start to make their way up to camp as Bro lands once more by Jackie and Marvin. 

"Thank you so much, Bro," Jackie says. "We can bring this all closer later. For now, I want to catch up with the others." 

"You know we'll probably be making the others move the supplies," Marvin says. "After all, we were planning on going to the Wyldwood as soon as we can." 

"Eh, we'll work something out."

Bro grins and nods, "Yeah- you all have been away for a while huh? I really only remember properly meeting Anna... but i wonder if anyone else remembers me!" He laughs and floats back up, "I'll catch you guys up there!" 

Back at camp, Holly begins talking to other Phantoms, asking them to gather more supplies. As she does, a dark-skinned woman with a long-beaked bird mask runs up to the fire. “Hen—! Oh.” She stops, confused, looking between Henny and JJ. “I’m sorry. I thought one of you was someone else.” 

Henny jumps slightly as the dark-skinned woman runs up, and Dr. J blinks a bit in surprise. Then, Henny laughs and waves his hand, "It is okay! I am sure seeing me and expecting the other-me would be confusing! I am also Henrik- but you can call me Henny!" 

“Hey Nemet!” Chase brightens. “You’re okay! Henrik’s on another row boat, he’ll be so glad to see you! Guys, this is Nemet, she’s one of our doctors.” 

“Good to meet you,” she says, smiling.

Dr. J smiles, "Nice to meet you, Nemet." 

Jackieboy waves a hand, "Yo~!" 

"Hanny--no, Henny," Nemet repeats, giving a small laugh. "I have it. And you two?" 

"That's JJ and that's Jackieboy," Chase explains. "Jameson and Jackie from this other world. The other me is here, too." 

"Jaijai, Jahkiboh--Jahkiboi." Nemet nods. "Have those, too. I see you have masks already. They're very nice. I think we still have other Chase's, too. Holly?!" She turns back towards her. "It might be in storage!" 

Holly shouts back. "Have it!" 

"Oh 'cool,' so Bro will have his mask again, soon!" Chase says cheerfully. 

Henny claps with a bright smile, "Oh yay! He will be so happy to hear that!" 

Jackieboy giggles, "Listening to everyone try to say our names is kinda entertaining-" 

"Don't be rude!" Dr. J whispers to Jackie, hitting him slightly. Jackieboy just laughs some more. 

Nemet laughs. “It is fine, don’t worry. I speak many languages, I know how silly it can sound to try and say something from one with the sounds of another. Not everyone will be such good spirits, though.” 

“We’re extremely lucky we have the opportunity to understand and speak with you all, despite our language barriers,” Dr. J says with a kind smile. 

“Yea, that translation spell is really helpful,” Chase agrees. 

“Oh, does it work on any language?” Nemet wonders. The guys then perceive her switching languages, but still hear it in English. “Can you understand me right now?”

Dr. J laughs and nods, “Yes! It’s very handy. Alt really did his research.” Henny looks thoughtful, “Does it work in reverse for you all? I wonder if you would understand if I spoke German…” he thinks of something to say and then looks to Nemet, “Ich mag deine Maske! Es ist sehr schön. genau wie du bist!” he gives Nemet a little wink after saying this. …which would be lost if it doesn’t translate...

Nemet grins. "Yes, I can understand that!" She laughs a little. "And thank you. This is an ibis, it is a river bird from my home." 

"I still wonder if the beak gets in the way," Chase mutters. 

"Not enough to change it. And look at your antlers." 

"That's fair." 

The swaps laugh at this exchange. 

Dr. J shakes his head, "I wonder how you're able to walk around with that on... I feel like they would catch on so many things!" 

At that moment, there's a shout. Henrik rushes over and immediately tackles Nemet in a hug--an uncharacteristic gesture that shows just how joyful he is. "You're alright! Nemet, you're alright! I cannot believe it! Thank the stars, thank the sun and moon!" 

Nemet stumbles backwards from the force of it and then laughs. "Good to see you, Henrik!" 

The swaps all jump at Henrik rushing and then look at each other and smile. Henny awws and holds his cheeks. 

"Yes, it has been a while," Henrik says, letting go of Nemet. "Last I saw you you were fighting Thalia Tinechroi. I-I was so worried something had happened." 

"Well, it was not an easy fight." Nemet shakes her head. "I have some scars from it. But I am glad Holly was around to get me here and help treat the wounds." Is there a little bit of a blush beneath her mask? 

Dr. J tilts his head at the bit of blush beneath Nemet's mask. Hm... 

And then, Bro is landing by the fire pit, wiping sweat off his brow and grinning at the others, "Hey! What'd I miss?"

”Oh!" Henrik jumps in surprise. "Hello, Bro! Y-you scared me a little, hah." 

"Sorry!" Bro laughs timidly, messing with the back of his hair.

"Hello, other Chase," Nemet says. 

In the distance, Holly shouts out a greeting and waves at Bro. "Hi!" Chase waves. "You didn't miss much. We were testing the translation spell and its limits." 

Hello, Bro, JJ says, who's been standing quietly in the background while Henrik reunites with Nemet. 

Bro brightens up as he sees the others greeting him and waves at them, "Hey! uh... what was it...? Oh! Hwaet!"

Henrik, Jameson, and Chase all chuckle hearing Bro say their greeting. 

"You're getting very good at that," Chase says, smiling. 

"Though it was strange, you were speaking Glasish for a while before you regained your memories," Henrik says. "Wonder why that is." 

While we wait for Jackie and Marvin, let's warm up a bit, it's chilly, Jameson says, sitting down on one of the boxes. 

"Yes, we should rest a while before we head out again."

Bro blinks in surprise, "I was??" He looks shocked and tries to search through his memories, "...that's so weird...! I was just- racking my brain to try to remember that one but... I-I guess it did come easier to me then I thought it would..." 

"I thought the way you and Alt were talking was weird!" Jackieboy says, connecting the dots, "I mean- we still heard it in English but you were all talking so- fancy-like... or something." 

"Just like a royal knight in a fairytale," Henny agrees. 

Bro frowns at this and goes to sit by the fire, "Hm... I guess... that has to do with the TRVLR messing with my memories too then...? I mean... if I believed I was from here... I'd have to speak the language too...?" He laughs bitterly, "But now I... I don't think I could speak Glasish if I wanted to..." 

Dr. J hums, "Maybe it had something to do with Alt's magic from the translation spell too...? But- I wouldn't know... magic is already strange to me and this whole situation just makes it all the more confusing." 

"You're telling me..." Bro mutters with another bitter laugh.

The world is confusing, Jameson agrees. Let alone all the collections of other worlds as well. But Marvin knows a lot about magic, maybe he has some ideas? Let's wait for him. 

Not long after, Marvin and Jackie appear. The others, except Bro, all look up and smile at Jackie and Marvin's return. Bro is staring at the fire, lost in thought. 

"Nemet!" Jackie gasps. "Hey!" He drops the bag he's carrying and rushes over, giving her a side hug. 

"Nemet!" Marvin gives an uncharacteristic smile. "They were worried about you! I was too, of course, but I didn't see what happened--" 

Nemet laughs. "I will explain later. The others have questions about magic." 

"Yea, do you remember how Bro and Alt were speaking Glasish before?" Chase says. "Why do you think that is?" 

Marvin frowns. "It could be that when Magnificent attacked them the magic from whatever translation spell they're using got mixed up in the magic suppressing their memories. Or maybe when they appeared with no memories, the world's magic flowed in to fill in the empty spots. Or maybe it's something we can't know about, something from the other worlds."

Bro comes back from his thoughts when he hears his name and listens to Marvin's explanation. He shrugs, "... yeah... Any of those makes sense..." He sighs and rubs the back of his neck before laughing quietly, but its a sad laugh. "... I don't know why cuz I won't like... use it regularly but... I'm bummed that I can't still speak it... I barely even remember being able to!" 

"Well- it seems to remember some words..." Dr. J says gently, "That's something." 

Bro chuckles and nods, "Yeah I do... there's Hwaet- which is like hey- um... dia duhai- means good day, and Duhai is just hello... anddd-" 

For a second, Bro seems to stiffen, the slightest flicker of green in his eyes as he whispers, "...mu Rith-"

The guys from this world all stiffen in unison. 

"That's, um... not a phrase most people use..." Marvin says slowly. 

"It's pretty much only used by those serving the crown in some way," Jackie mutters. "When I was a royal warrior everyone referred to the King by that." 

I suppose he would have made sure that stuck, Jameson says slowly. 

The swaps also stiffen, looking at Bro with apprehension. 

Bro, for a second, is unresponsive, a dazed look in his eyes. Then, he shakes it off and holds his head, suddenly feeling dizzy. "...he... he also called us... a-a klaíoh.... my knight..." 

"Chase..." Jackieboy says quietly, slowly going to put his hand on his friend's shoulder. 

Bro jolts a bit at first but then he seems to relax and come back to himself, gently putting his hand on top of Jackie's. He gives him a weak smile, "I-I'm okay... sorry..." 

"W-well, um, we can teach you guys some new words in addition to that!" Chase hurriedly says. "Like, um--I'm not sure if the translation will pick this up, but I think intent matters--like, um, 'friend' is 'kara.' A-and 'brother' is 'deathár' but 'sister' is 'deirthúr' and 'sibling' is 'daefor' and '[sibling]' is 'deifára'--they all sound kind of similar so it's hard..."

Bro smiles at Chase trying to teach them new words, looking grateful. "...t-thanks Chase..." 

Henny brightens, "Kara...! We are all Kara! I like that word very much!"

Jackie laughs a little. "Y-yes, we're all 'kara'--or 'kairde', to use the plural." 

"Ka-ir-de!" Henny tries out, beaming. "We are all Kairde!" 

Jackie’s smile fades a bit as he looks at Bro. "Don't worry, It's probably hard to shake off. And... you want to know something interesting? Warriors in squads together sometimes call each other 'klaídafár.'" 

"Sword sibling," Henrik mutters, translating. 

"It's not something that us Phantoms often do, since not all of us are warriors," Jackie continues. "But... I think you and Alt could be our klaídafárea. If that helps at all."

Bro looks up at Jackie and actually feels slight tears brimming in his eyes. He smiles, touched, as he grips over his heart. "...klaídafárea... y-yeah..." He chokes a bit and hides his face, "...i... I really like that, Jackie... thank you..."

Jackie smiles. He reaches over to give Bro a side hug. “Not a problem.” Bro leans into Jackie's hug and smiles, wiping at his face.

“Speaking of Alt, when are we leaving to find him?” Chase asks. 

Bro's expression falls to something serious as his eyes shine with blue light. "As soon as possible." 

The other swaps exchange looks but then they nod. "We shouldn't delay if we can help it... who knows what Magnificent has done to him by now..." Dr. J says quietly.

“We have supplies ready for you,” Nemet says.

Jackie nods, eyes shining with determination. "Alright, then. Nemet, where are those supplies?" 

"Anna has them outside the storage tent," she says, pointing. "Holly also asked to see if Bro's mask was in there, so if it is, he will be able to grab it then. I hope we packed enough." 

Bro lights up slightly at the mention of his mask, "Y-You guys still have it?" He looks touched again and he smiles, getting to his feet. 

"We need lots of food and water, that's the most important thing," Marvin says. "The plants growing in the Wyldwood aren't all safe to eat. Then we need weapons, and then anything that you think might help with magical creatures." 

Jackieboy comes up besides him and knocks his shoulder and grins at him. "We'll be able to put all our training to test, huh?" 

"Yeah I guess so," Bro chuckles. 

Nemet nods. "You all should go check it, then. To be sure." 

Chase takes a deep breath. "Let's go, then." He stands up and starts walking in that direction. The others quickly follow. Henny helps Dr. J up, but the good doctor seems to have recovered. He smiles warmly at his friend. Then, all the swaps follow after the others to storage.

They do, indeed, still have Bro’s mask. “Here you go, other me,” Chase says, handing it to him.” 

Bro smiles wide at seeing the mask and takes it gently, swiping his finger over the surface. Then, he puts it on, wearing it proudly. 

"You look just like Sahne, Chase!!" Henny gasps in delight. 

The others laugh. 

“Alright, there’s a bag for everyone, it looks like,” Jackie says, picking up one of them. “Marvin, any advice on how to carry them? Is it okay to keep everything in the bag or will we need easy access to anything?” 

The swaps grab their weapons, Henny and Dr. J grab bows, Jackie grabs a knife and Bro grabs a sword and a bow, just in case.

Marvin pauses, thinking. “Weapons should be in easy reach. So you might want to keep your other sword on your hip instead of back. No need to hang the lanterns on the outside like usual, it’s always light enough to see in there, even during night. Keep flasks in easy reach for if you get thirsty. Though you probably won’t. I didn’t, only hungry, but that could have been some magic thing. Other than all that, up to you.” 

Where are we going again? Jameson asks. The direction? 

“That way.” Henrik points. “It’s a short walk to a normal forest, then through that for two hours before we reach the border. Supposedly. Few have gone there.” 

“Guess we’ll join the few, then.” Chase pulls on his bag. “Let’s go.” 

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈ 

The two hours pass as Henrik said it would. They reach the forest quickly. It’s normal and gloomy, with the faint sound of birdsong and animals rustling through the leaves. But that slowly fades over the course of the next couple hours. And up ahead, there’s a faint glow through the trees.

Bro looks around cautiously as the birdsong fades, "...why is it so... quiet?" 

"Look! There is glowys up ahead! I do not think it is our firebug friends?" Henny says, pointing.

"That's the Wyldwood," Marvin confirms in answer to both Bro and Henny's reactions. "Normal animals tend to avoid it, so you won't hear any sounds of them nearby. And there are so many glowing things in the Wyldwood. Plants, usually. Or bugs." 

Chase swallows a nervous lump in his throat. "Let's hurry up then." 

It's strange how solid of a border there is between the normal forest and the Wyldwood. Like an invisible wall is dividing them. Soon the guys come across a solid line where the regular grass and underbrush stops, replaced by waist-high ferns. Bell-shaped yellow flowers give off an interior glow and red mushrooms, fitting the white-spotted stereotype, also help light up the area. The trees are somehow more... swirly, bending and twisting in exaggerated shapes. Their bark resembles aspen trees, but the saturation is brought up so the white bark is whiter and the dark stripes are darker.

Bro gapes at the sight of the forest as they reach the border. “woahhh… this place is insane looking-“ 

“But it’s also so pretty!” Henny laughs, looking at all the glowing flowers and mushrooms. 

“Looks can be deceiving…” Dr. J mutters, holding his bag and shuffling nervously. 

“Welp- can’t find out much just- standing here.” Jackieboy says, cracking his neck- and he tries to cross into the border between the forests.

Jackieboy is able to step over the line without any issue. And with him going first, everyone else follows. 

"Try not to investigate anything too strange," Marvin says, eyes darting around. "You don't know what it could be." 

Draco walks around his ankles and strides confidently forward into the woods. 

"Yea, yea," Marvin mutters, following him. 

"Do we know where we are going?" Henrik asks. 

Marvin's eyes narrow as he stares through the forest. "I think forward. I think we follow Draco until I begin to recognize stuff. But again, we're not just looking for that blasted heath King Sam showed me. We're looking for Alt, too. And I don't know where he could be." 

Around them, the forest rustles, leaves moving despite the lack of wind. 

Bro nods, scanning the area as he keeps his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Could we use our bracelets...?" 

"No... Magnificent managed to cut Alt's off when they escaped..." Dr. J sighs. 

"Fuck-" Bro bites out, eyes glowing in anger. 

"M-Maybe the forest will be nice to us...? Because it must know we are nice... yes? And maybe it will help us!" Henny tries to say hopefully. 

"I dunno if a forest cares about moralities, Hen..." Jackie mutters.

Draco circles back around and rubs his face against Henny's legs. 

The rustling sound in the forest gets louder, a ripple of leaves coming from the distance towards the group. It seems to be coming from almost straight ahead; there's a slight diagonal to the right. 

Jameson laughs silently. I think Henny is right, actually. 

Henny brightens and gives the others a big smile. "See!! The forest and magic can also be our 'Kara' too!!" 

Jackieboy blinks then chuckles, "Well I'll be-" 

"This forest has a mind of its own, and it wants us here," Marvin says. "We just have to worry about all the things in the forest." 

"Like what?" Henrik asks. 

"Probably all the creatures from the stories," Chase says. "Kelpies, banshees, dullahans, pookas, dearg due--not to mention any Fair Folk who might have stayed behind. Oo, have you guys heard the story of Lasta and Caba? It's said that if you see two strange people playing a card game in the woods, you can try to win a prize by joining in. But watch out, because time around you will pass more quickly than time in the game."

Dr. J nervously fidgets with his pocket watch, but seems interested in Chase's story, "Huh... that seems to happen a lot of time in stories- time passing by so fast." 

"Wonder if they give out any good prizes," Bro mumbles. 

"In the stories the prizes are always minor boons," Chase explains as they want. "Things that you don't think would be helpful, but in the stories they always come in to help at the last moment. Lasta and Caba are a leprechaun and bodacha, so they can be tricky, but they reward you with minor wealth or things like luck and guidance."

 "I've never heard of a bodacha before..." Dr. J muses, "But... sounds frightening. 

"I thought bodachaed were like the bogeymen," Henrik says slowly. "Haunting you at night." 

"They seem scarier than they are," Chase says. 

Jackie raises an eyebrow. "My parents told me they had no faces. Is that true?" 

Chase hesitates for a bit too long. "Well they have hoods and long hair so it doesn't really matter. The point is they're sort of a 'scare you straight' type of creature, while leprechauns are in it for mischief and fun."

"I've at least heard of Leprechauns...." Bro says.

"How do you know so much about all these different creatures, Chase?" Henny asks with a tilt of his head, "Is that what you like to learn? Like Marvin with his magic? Or Jackie with his- rope swinging?" 

"Yeah I don't know what to call it either," Jackieboy laughs. 

Chase grins. "I guess so. My parents loved to tell me stories, and so I like to tell them to my kids. I also had a lot of time on my hands while hunting in the woods. Hunting is much more waiting than action. So I... keep note of the stories I hear." 

Like the ones about leprechauns? Jameson asks, jerking his head towards Bro's mention about them. 

"Among others, yes. Do you have those in your world, too? They're very small Fair Folk, about tthe size of an eight year old. And if you manage to trick them instead of letting them trick you, it's said they reward you with gold that shimmers with all the colors of the rainbow."

"Oh, that's fancy. Our are just on like... cereal boxes and stuff." Jackieboy laughs. 

Bro smirks, "My aunts had stories like that. Emmy was deeply Irish- she loved the folklore and telling me and Alt about them. Mostly like... stories about Changelings or... there was a guy with a magic harp I think...? But for leprechauns... I think there was a story about... someone catching one and trying to dig up his treasure but he didn't have a shovel- so he marked the spot on the tree with... something red? And when he returned the next day- every tree had that red thing." He fluffs up the back of his hair and grins bashfully, "It's been a while since I've heard the stories... so- I don't remember them too well..." 

"Oh! That actually sounds familiar- I think my mam used to tell us a story like that," Jackieboy grins. Bro and him high five.

Chase's eyes widen and he nods. "Yes! We have a story like that too! The red marks on the trees! My mom told me that one, and I told Quinten. He loved it." 

"Whoa, really?" Jackie laughs. "I suppose some things are consistent between worlds." 

Bro looks surprised by this but smiles, "Damn- maybe... the magic between our worlds is like- linked somehow- in some ways." Then he makes a face before laughing to himself quietly. "ha... I sound like Alt."

As they continue to walk, the Wyldwood dims, but it doesn't fully go dark. Small moths appear, their wings glowing a gentle yellow-green. It's much easier to walk through the Wyldwood than a normal forest since it has no undergrowth, just grass and flowers, and somehow the roots are never in their way. 

Henny is enamored by all the moths and flowers and looks around curiously. 

The sound of running water comes from up ahead, and Marvin stops, holding up a hand. "I think we should stop here," he says. "I don't think it's a good idea to get too close to water. Things might be there."

"Things as in... creatures?" Dr. J asks quietly. 

Jackieboy tilts his head, "...I'm no survivalist- but i thought travelling towards water was like- a good thing. Leads you places... or something- or is that moss?" 

"No, you're right, water is... usually a good idea..." Chase looks at Marvin worriedly. 

Marvin glances back at the others. "Last time I was here, I saw some sort of... reptilian face in the water. Like a lizard, but this big." He holds his hands about two feet apart from each other. "I don't really want to find that again. It didn't notice me last time, but something like that might notice if there's more of us." 

Henrik goes a bit pale. "We can camp here for the night, then," he says, taking off his bag. "One or two of us should keep watch." 

"I'll take the first watch, then," Marvin says.

"I'll take a watch," Bro says almost immediately after. "Won't really be able to sleep anyways..." 

"Alright- it has been a long day...." Jackieboy yawns, sitting down and putting his bag down too. 

Henny looks out at the forest with a concerned look but eventually sighs and starts to settle in. 

Dr. J anxiously bounces on his feet, looking around. "It is... safe to camp here... right?" 

Marvin looks at Draco. He is making biscuits on a patch of flowers. Then he curls up. "Yes, I think so," Marvin says slowly. 

"So we're trusting the cat, then," Jackie mutters. 

A cat made of magic, Jameson adds. 

"I know, it just seems absurd." 

"Animals have very good instincts, actually," Chase says.

Dr. J looks equally skeptical but eventually he's tugged down to sit by Henny and he relents. "I trust Draco!" Henny laughs, "I know our friends back home are very sensitive to danger. Sahne saved me from Magnificent once!" 

"Don't worry, Doc, we won't let the scary forest getcha~" Jackieboy grins. 

Dr. J makes a face at him. 

As they all talk, they sit down on the ground and start getting ready to eat and rest. The earth is surprisingly soft.

Bro smiles lightly before sitting against a tree and watching the surroundings... there had to be some sign of Alt around... right? ... but it was a big forest... he just hopes he's okay.

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

The King, Magnificent, and Alt are woken up by the sound of the forest groaning once again. They had been walking through the Wyldwood for a fully day and night. During that walk, they had seen and heard things, mostly things that the King explained were illusions. More fear-causing screams, distant lights, the sound of a party that wouldn't get closer no matter how much they walked in that direction. But no actual creatures. Not since Lasta and Caba. Even so, the forest itself has not given up on occasionally blocking their way with roots or branches. 

This morning, as they wake up in a section of the forest with red-barked trees and purple glowing flowers, Magnificent finds a vine wrapped around his ankle.

Magnificent startles awake at the vine wrapping around him and growls, trying to flick a flame at it to get to go away, "Fuck off!" 

At Mag's exclamation, Alt startles awake, looking around for danger.

The vine catches quickly and withdraws, flailing, into the ground. Another vine starts to sprout up but Aneirin lunges forward and grabs it, throwing it to the side where it withers and dies. "It's getting desperate," he mutters. "We might have to start taking watches." By which he means Alt will, of course.

Magnificent growls, "Fucking... fine. I'm not letting this shitty ass forest best us." 

Alt sinks back to where he was resting, his eyes wanting to shut again. He's so tired... resting doesn't even feel like it helps. But, it won't be long until he's ordered to move again... maybe a few more seconds will help.

Aneirin reaches for the food bag and rummages through it. He takes some bread and meat, then finds the fruit and berries from the day before. Somehow still fresh. "A klaíoh," he says, getting Alt's attention. He throws half the food he took towards him. "Eat. Then we'll head on out."

Alt slowly blinks open his eyes, wincing slightly as he takes in the command. But, he pushes himself up and starts to eat tiredly. 

Magnificent walks along the perimeter of their camp, stomping and blasting magic at anything else that tries to sprout, cursing quietly to himself.

Luckily for Magnificent, the forest seems to get the point quickly, and the vines and roots stop appearing. In fact, it seems like the grass and flowers lean a bit away from him. Magnificent snorts at the sight of this, smirking. 

Soon, Aneirin stands up. He walks around for a bit, reminding himself of the terrain. "I believe we're out of the foothills," he says. "I've been trying to remember what the Wyldwood looked like around our destination, and I believe the trees were light-colored, thin as a man's arm. Though that last part may be memory's exaggeration." He looks around, taking note of any direction that feels more promising. "What do you think of that way?" He points in a direction where the red bark of the trees seems to pale.

Mag looks towards the King and then studies the landscape. He eventually hums and shrugs, "Seems a good place to start at least- if you remember the trees being lighter."

"A good place to start indeed," Aneirin says. "Come on. Let's go." And he starts off, leading the way. 

The trees do get lighter in color, a dusty brown, but their trunks remain wide and their leaves and branches droop downwards. The glowing purple flowers are replaces by bushes of roses that glow in every color imaginable. It's stunning.

Alt dazedly walks behind Mag and the King, just as he's done for the past few days. But, slowly he takes in the gorgeous scene around them and looks around with slight wonder. Magnificent doesn't seem phased, pushing leaves and branches out of his way as they walk.

But as Magnificent steadily pushes past, he hears something. There is a movement in the corner of his vision.

Magnificent stills, glancing quickly towards the movement, magic bright and ready in his hand.

And when he turns towards it, he sees... someone. Is that... Jackie? He looks so young. That's impossible, isn't it? He grins and waves. 

Magnificent growls- about ready to shoot first and ask questions later when he pauses. His eyes widen. "...Jackie...?" He breathes. He looks like how he did in their uni days. Before... everything. 

Mag isn't quite sure when he started moving but- he's moving towards him. He wants to see him. He starts to run-

Aneirin's head snaps towards him. "Mag--!" he shouts, reaching out. And then he stops. Because there's another figure in the trees. Someone wearing a green cloak with a sword by his side. 

Aneirin's face darkens. "You," he growls, and rushes after the figure. It turns and heads off. 

Jackie meanwhile, beckons for Magnificent to come closer. Magnificent doesn't understand the feeling in his chest- or why it hurts- or why he feels so desperate. It's a feeling that he hasn't felt in years. But, seeing his friend again... exactly how he remembers him... happy to see him... Magnificent needs to be there- if only for a moment. Pretending everything was different. He reaches out, wanting to pull Jackie closer to him. 

Alt looks back, seeing the King and Mag running in opposite directions. His eyes widen as he tries to call out after them, "M-Magnificent! Mu Rith!" He then backs up, shakily putting his hand on his weapon, looking around with frantic eyes.

And yet, when he reaches for his weapon, his hand brushes against leaves. Before he can really process this, the trees move, the trunks themselves bending down as the roots and branches wrap together in a wall blocking Alt from the other two.

Once Alt has realized what has happened he panics and throws himself at the wall, “No!!” He tries to find a way through- but it’s solid. He takes shaky steps back away from the wall and sucks in breath after anxious breath. He- he doesn’t know where to go- he has no one to lead him. 

He’s… alone.

And then there's a sound--a chirping sort of call. Something brown swoops right past Alt--feathers just an inch from his face--and lands on the side of the new tree wall, clinging to the vertical surface. 

It's a bird. 

A swift.

Alt cries out and glitches away from the feathers, landing in a crouched position on the ground like a cat. Alt blinks up and feels his breath leave him The swift…! His eyes flicker with green as he struggles to remember why this bird suddenly felt so important. 

And… in its beak is the leafy thing Alt felt near his weapon--the twig he won in that game with the Fair Folk. And then the swift launches off the wall and flies away.

His eyes widen. “H-Hey!” He shouts after it and when it flies off, he quickly goes to follow it, half-glitching, half-running.

The swift is fast, and yet through his glitching he's able to keep up well enough. It helps that there's barely any undergrowth, and the trees are spreading out, though the canopy overhead remains thick with the branches interwoven. The trees get taller, as well, until--between how far the trees are from each other and how high the canopy is above--it almost feels like the Wyldwood is fading away. 

And the bird itself... looks different. Is its color changing? 

Alt glances at the changing landscape briefly as he follows the swift. He feels like- like he has to follow it. But.,, what was happening to the woods…? And the swift… its colors felt… Trying to think about that drives a heavy spike of pain into his head.

forget forget forget. 

He stumbles for a second, having to catch himself on a tree to shake off the pain. Then he panics, bursting to start running again, worried he’s fallen behind.

The ground slopes slightly. The swift moves a bit faster, lightning and squares of harsh light trailing from the ends of its wings. 

Alt uses the slope to try to slide down, gaining speed. He sees the swift flying with harsh light and he glitches more to meet its speed, even if spots start to dance in his vision.

And then the trees fall back a bit. The branches still form a ceiling high above, but natural sunlight leaks through holes in the canopy. There's a depression in the ground. In it is an old, gnarled tree with a lattice of roots that crosses over a hole in the earth. The swift flies towards the tree and drops the twig a few feet away from it. Then it circles the trunk a couple times before landing, clinging, on the vertical surface of the trunk. Its colors have definitely shifted, now shades of blue with the tinge of sunset orange and pinks on the edge of its feathers. 

As Alt enters the clearing, he winces a bit at the sunlight shining through, so used to the dim light of the woods. Once he’s adjusted he takes in the scene before him. And his breath hitches, his eyes widening. 

This is all so familiar...He… he’s seen this be- 

More bursts of pain assault his head as he crashes to his knees, crying out. He grips tightly at his head as agony pulses through his mind, his eyes trying to fill with green light. 

forget forget forget f o r g e t

The swift cocks it’s head, watching Alt with… well it’s hard to read emotions in its bird face, but it almost seems concerned. It lets out another call, like a beckon for Alt to come closer. The sound is beautiful, cutting through the noise in his head. The swift’s call feels like fresh water against the knight’s burning mind. 

The twig is still on the ground. It’s moving slightly down the faint slope towards the tree.

Alt looks up and gasps slightly at the twig moving- he can’t lose that! He shakily pushes himself up and rushes to try to grab the stick. In his desperation he glitches then crashes to the ground right by the lattice of roots, blinking spots and pain back from his eyes. 

He can remember the twig was important- 

it was for his masters-! 

no no- it was his…! He won it! 

The twig slides right up to the edge of the roots before Alt can grab it. He winces at the conflicting thoughts in his head, His fingers just touching the twig’s surface. 

The moment he does, voices seem to come from it, far away and echoey. 

“The arrogance of Hunger has no bounds it seems.” 

Alt blinks blearily and looks at the stick with wide eyes, "...Lasta and Caba...?" He whispers. 

“Indeed! Did we say that the one holding the twig would be guided? No!” 

“No indeed! It was for the young lad, not for anyone else!” 

“Did they think they could take a blessing?” 

“Seems so!” 

“Seems so. Now, where has he reached?” 

“Where indeed?” The voices fade away. 

Alt feels a sense of warmth from listening to their voices. Then, he senses movement beneath the roots of the tree He pushes to look through, but he shudders as a faint sense of dread flows through him.

And beneath the roots he sees himself. Caught in the middle of a glitch, purple wrapped around his wrists. 

Suddenly, memory returns. The dream! 

How could he have forgotten?!

Alt’s eyes widen and he almost pushes himself away- until he winces as his mind is cleared. 

That dream…! ….The king made him forget it. Why? This… this seemed important. 

Alt hardly hesitates this time- he reaches through the roots towards the other him, offering his hand.

His other self reaches up and grasps his hand, looking grateful. 

The moment the contact is made, the other Alt disappears, turning into lightning that races up Alt’s arm and into his core. He gasps, the sound soon becoming a yell. 

Memories and images flash in his head. Impossibly tall buildings, glowing squares of metal and glass, people who look like those rebels from the boat, a cat, more people—they all feel so familiar. Has he… been here before? Does he know these people? 

Why, when Magnificent flashes through his memories, does he feel dread?

Alt curls up, gripping at his heart. His eyes flash with a mixture of colors: green, purple, colored static, green-blue. 

Over and over in a confusing array as images flash painfully through his head. 

What… are all these things? The- the rebels… they’re similar- but different. They’re so… warm, in these images. Their presence feels comforting. 

Why? Why- when he sees Magnificent, his liege- does he feel… fear? Dread? …anger? 

He gasps and pants, trembling on the ground as he tries to make sense through the pain. 

What… what does all of this mean…?

As he falls to the ground he notices… the tree is gone. So are its roots and the hole in the ground. There is a tree, but it’s not the gnarled black one, just a normal one. Maybe… it was never there in the first place? 

But the swift is still there. It clings to the side of the tree, then pushes off and circles around the tree. Lightning trails from its wings and it glows brighter and brighter—until it lands on one of the tree’s branches. 

Pushing through the pulsing pain, Alt pushes himself up just enough to see the swift circle the new tree before him. His eyes widen. 

it’s not a swift anymore. It’s a larger bird. An eagle, maybe. 

<Concern. A warm worry directed at him.> 

<Empathy. The knowledge of confusion, the shared feeling of his pain.> 

<Reassurance. This is supposed to happen. It will be better soon.>

As those new feelings wash over him, Alt tries to stagger to his feet, approaching the mighty bird. “…who… are you…?” He asks in a quiet voice. 

The eagle ruffles it’s feathers. There’s a sound like distant thunder. 

<Knowledge. You know already.> 

A memory comes to Alt. Conjuring wings of green lightning, his new friends in awe, saying it was like he was blessed by the Winged Elder One themself. 

Alt’s eyes for a second flood with white as the memory comes. He stumbles back slightly, “…t-the Winged Elder…!” 

<Kinship. Though we are distant, we are the same while you are close.> 

<Sadness. Empathy for your loss.> 

<Hope. Will this be enough for you to regain what was mistakenly buried?>

Another memory plays in his head, Alt’s own voice echoing angrily- staring down at the terrified face of the his King. 

“You and every other fucking Anti out there has hurt me- hurt my friends- hurt my brother… for the last f̶̧̏u̶͙͐c̸͚̽k̶͙͊ì̸̧n̷͍͐g̶͘ TIME!”

Alt gasps again and then shuts his eyes in pain, digging fingers into his hair. These memories are so clear- unlike everything else he can remember. Why? 

None of those words made sense…! 

The king hasn’t hurt him! 

Yes he has! He stole so much from me!

Who’s Anti?

I am! I Chose that name before this one! 

who’s his brother? 

Chase chase chase! 

His brother… betrayed them… didn’t he? 

no no no! He’s coming- he’s coming to save me. I know it! 

Alt crashes back down to his knees, crying out as his mind burns more and more. 

What did he lose? Why… did he need to be saved? His mind still feels so- empty. So lost… like he was. Everything is buzzing, deafening white noise. 

The eagle swoops down from the branch and lands in front of him. 

Alt struggles to open his flickering eyes as the eagle lands in front of him. It’s all such a strong haze of confusing emotions and feelings he doesn’t even feel shocked at seeing it so close. 

Its eyes are the color of storm clouds as it stares up into his. 

<Sympathy. A deep sadness that this is happening to him.> It leans closer to him. 

<An offer. Tentative comfort.>

Alt stares at it and then at its offer, he shakily reaches out a hand.

The eagle presses its head into his hand. It’s feathers are soft, but also give off this buzzing feeling. Like holding your hand to an old CRT television… whatever that is. 

Alt relaxes as the eagle presses its head against his hand. It's so warm... He closes his eyes, a vision forming. 

<A group of birds swoops through the sky. Riding the winds, soaring through the clouds, dancing around each other in joy. Each one is different but they are all the same, too. They speak in chirps and calls, a song they all know and join in on.> 

<Two of the birds fall suddenly. The wind stops supporting them and then arrows pierce their wings. They are hurtling towards the ground. But immediately the other birds dive after them. There is not a moment where they hesitate. They dive the instant they notice. They seek to reach their falling flock members.> 

<One is caught from its fall, the arrow disappearing from its wing. Though it is still hurt, the others support it, and it joins them in the dive towards the last bird. Even as clouds cover the sky, they continue to dive, reaching out.> 

<And soon they will catch up. Soon they will dance around their fallen flock member, soon they will remove the arrow. The clouds rumble with lightning but the wind blows them away, just as the wind reaches up to support the hurt bird, to push it back to the flock that dances around it in joy. They will dance together, and ride the wind on to their home.>

Alt feels tears falling down his face as he opens his eyes. He touches his cheek and then studies his hand in slight confusion. He lets out a shuddery breath and whispers, "...my... my friends-" 

The images of the not-rebels flood his head again, circling in a dance like the birds. 

Henny. Jackie. Jay. Chase. 

When his eyes start to flicker and their names seem enveloped by static, he furrows his brow and thinks harder, willing the names to become solid. 

Henny. Jackie. Jay. Chase. 

Blue-green swirls bright and powerful in his eyes and he chokes on a quiet sob, the relief of remembering overwhelming him. 

His flock... His friends. His family. 

He looks back towards the eagle and whispers through choked breaths, "m...my friends... a-are they here...?"

The eagle tilts its head. It turns around and does a funny little hop away from Alt before launching itself into the air. It’s a swift again. 

<Guidance. A direction to follow.>

It flies into the trees to the left, expertly weaving around them.

Alt watches for a second before shakily pushing himself up. His eyes glow with determination. 

He starts to run after it.

[enkisstories]

Not your fetch droid

A Star Wars drabble featuring Defector!Hux after the battle of Exegol. Prompt by @the-herdier here.

CRASH.

The sound was louder in his head, the shattering of ceramic more pronounced and it kept going on in his mind much longer than it had in reality.

In Resistance base’ outdoor kitchen on Ajan Kloss, Eremos had lost his balance while carrying a cafeteria tray and the mug had slid off, spilling its contents on the wooden floor. Even as the man looked down, unable to take his eyes off, the liquid slowly trickled through the cracks between the planks, to seep away into the ground. All he could do was stare.

For “Captain Eremos” really was Armitage Hux, a former General of the First Order, former secret ally, former very briefly prisoner of war, but in the end just that: Armitage. Hux. And especially the latter was a problem, for the Hux family’s child rearing techniques had been… Well, by imperial standards they would probably have been called “tried and true”. But for the young boy never knowing whether apologizing after a misstep would lead to him getting left alone or get taken as a sign of weakness, him sometimes getting punished for cleaning up the mess and then again for not doing it, had been confusing as heck. If either could lead to negative effects, then deciding between the two actions was impossible and so young Armitage had tended to freeze up, a reaction he hadn’t been able to train himself out of even as an adult. Hux/Eremos being known as an arrogant person had helped cover up this flaw of his for the longest time: his non-reaction was simply read as utter disdain by the other officers. Well, that wasn’t working anymore in an environment where ranks mattered little.

Hux felt something brushing his arm. No, someone! Or rather a someone/-thing, because that what/who had elbowed his way past the Gen… the Captain just now had been an alien.

“Ey, what’s the proud bastard thinking”, C’ai Threnalli complained to the female pilot walking alongside him. “That we clean up after him?”

Bastard… There it was again. Momentarily captured in his personal hell, Hux didn’t understand the word as an insult in general, but very specifically a stab at his backstory. As a result he froze in place even more tensely; only his nose wrinkled and his upper lip came up, baring the row of teeth. But then he shut his eyes, that had narrowed in the process, completely, seeing nothing and nobody anymore, while the long faded noise of the mug getting smashed on the plank kept ringing like a bell in his head.

“Hey, Remy!”

A familiar voice. And even if his ability to identify the voice had been impaired, there were not many people who were using a name other than “newcomer” for Eremos, let alone the friendly “Remy”.

Finn stepped around Hux, stood in front of him and looked up.

“What’s the matter?”

From the man came no verbal reaction. Only the tip of his left foot, the one on the bandaged leg, tentatively kicked the debris on the floor.

“Yes, I see? So what?”

When no reaction whatsoever came, Finn knelt down next to the mess. He noticed that it had been a standard ceramic mug, nothing personalized, and smiled. When had “Remy” opened his eyes again, that he was able to notice that smile? He couldn’t tell. But he was back now, processing visual input again (even though he still stood stiffly). The Resistance’ kindness, a strange trait to find in such a battle-ready bunch, especially in a former First Order kid like Hux himself, always did that to him.

“It’s not a big deal”, Finn said after having gotten up again.

The words sparked a curt nod of acknowledgement – the closest the former General was even now able to get to thanking people. He only wanted to step away from this spot, find a place somewhere outside the canvas-ceiling, crack the roasted crustacean open over his noodles and eat his fill. As for drinks, there were plenty of ponds and creeks in the forest. Finn had provided "Remy" with an opportunity to escape. Already Hux was feeling his legs again (especially the bandaged one), his muscles were twitching to start the walking-away-to-avoid-further-attention process, when Finn spoke up again, overtly in the same supportive tone, while in reality throwing down the gauntlet:

“We aren’t that strapped for resources that we couldn’t replace a mug and a little fruit juice. You can always go back to the kitchen and get more.”

Get more? Get MORE? From the KITCHEN? What was this man thinking?! Sending Hux to the kitchen to wait on the Resistance like a prisoner of war? He had JOINED the rebels, he wouldn’t serve them hand and foot!

A low growl escaped Hux’ throat, but seeing that he had spent the morning in the dusty workshop with Commander Tico, the man’s throat was dry and the sound died quickly. Hux coughed, while Finn doubled down on his challenge:

“I said you can get more?”

Go… get… more… Go… kitchen… fetch… drinks… for us... Because that’s all you’re good for, kitchen scullion’s brat.

Not even in the slightest intended to get taken in this way, this was what Finn’s words got heard as by the former General. What even did that mean, “former”? There was no substance yet to “Remy”, that could have filled the void his corrupted by the Sith First Order had left. There was only Armitage. Short one empire, but still in possession of all his mental baggage.

Hux glared at Finn, then sidestepped and made haste to leave the “room” that was defined by several poles and the canvas ceiling. And now everyone could forget about the incident – had anybody other than Threnalli, Wright and Finn paid attention to it in the first place, that was. To most it had never happened at all.

*

In the afternoon Poe Dameron found his friend/rival by the provisions crates, where Hux had put a pot of paint onto one of the larger crates and was moving a small brush around. Whatever he was doing looked like precision work, not surprising for a part-time engineer.

“Hey. What’cha doing?”

Poe found the other responsive to his question. With a true craftsman’s pride, Hux presented a set of upturned thumbtacks, that were drying on thin leaves. Every single one had gotten painted in the specific shade of red, that Poe recognized as his boyfriend’s favorite color.

“Why are you painting the tacks burgundy?” Poe asked.

“Because Finn’s chair in the conference room is burgundy, and if the tacks are of the same color, he won’t notice them before he takes a seat.”

“Wait, wait, wait, you two have a feud going on now? Wouldn’t you say you should have cleared that with me first? You know? Poe Dameron? Boyfriend of one and nemesis of the other?”

“Words to the effect of No.”

Hux picked up another thumbtack with a pair of precision mechanic pliers with one hand, then dipped the brush into the paint with the other. For a split second it occured to Poe that with the pliers it would be a lot easier to just dip the tack into the paint can. Was that too messy for Remy's taste or not satisfying enough?

“Finn’s going to get watery eyes", Hux promised. "One way or the other.”

“Oh, c’mon, Remy… You’re being childish!”

“Nice. You all never stop telling us that we have a childhood to reclaim, Finn and me.”

“Reeeeeeymeeeeeeee… Uh, say, you don’t look like someone who’s doing this for the first time?”

“I’ve had some success with the method with the Allegiant General”, Hux replied with the merest hint of a smile.

“You put upturned thumbtacks on Pryde’s chair in the First Order's Supreme Council chamber?” Poe uttered, dumbfounded.

“In spirit only. The actual distribution was performed by a confidante.”

Poe started rubbing his forehead, moaning. Leading the Resistance certainly was different than he had imagined. No matter how close they were to victory, now, after the battle of Exegol. But truth was, they had destroyed only the First Order's additional forces. All previously existing star destroyers hadn’t miraculously went poof now and the citizen’s fleet, motivated as it was, was still very much the underdog. Hux’ expertise as a strategist (albeit not necessarily as a commander in the heat of an actual enemy encounter) was a valuable asset. Even if they hadn’t developed a bond, it simply would have been Poe’s duty to preserve this man’s sanity as well as possible for the Resistance’s benefit.

“Look, Poe, it’s not that difficult to understand”, Hux said. “Everyone else would meet a tragic accident rather sooner than later, had they said to me what Finn said today. But… He’s Finn. Sort of my little brother. Granted, the kid brother who never listens, but in any case the result of the same parenting I got subjected to. I cannot arrange Finn’s of all people’s death! So I had to get creative in my revenge.”

“Revenge.”

Hux sighed.

“You two and Rose, you… You didn’t exactly change me, but with you around my options broaden. It’s as if I could access spaces on the Dejarik board now that were formerly blocked and found new units in my roster. But if you treat me like a stray that you brought in and think you can teach tricks to, then you’ll find that this HURTS.”

Finn has done what exactly? Poe wondered. Must be some misunderstanding. I’ll need to get at the root of this.

“Alright. You and me, we’re now going to sit down like the adults we are. And you’ll tell me…” Poe momentarily considered his next words, then finished with: “…all about Pryde sitting on those tacks.”

You had to take small steps. Start on a positive note. (And subtly let the tacks disappear.)

---

Note:

My goofball nature immediately zoned in on the “get more” in the original post and I knew I had to exploit that. I hope you don't mind!

[elpida]

"Ben." his eyes gestured to a knife on the street, a knife they both recognised as the younger O'Connors. Shit.. this wasn't good, not at all. "Don't freak-" Oh he was freaking out alright, running from store to store, calling his sisters name and whilst Cade thought it reckless.. he could understand it. It's why he said nothing and made a move to do the same just with a little more thought to his actions. he ended up in the bookshop, calling Eden's name as he entered and after moving down the right aisle he came face to face with a little girl, this wavy brown hair, big blue eyes, wrapped up in a military green canvas jacket and holding out a very recognisable bag. "Well hi there, little lady." Cade lowered down his bow, sliding it back into position on his back and crouched down. "Say, you think you can tell me where you got that bag, that jacket?" the sleeves were hanging over her hands but she approached Cade bravely enough and offered him the bag.

"Did a nice lady with dark hair give you these?" that earned him a very specific and eager nod. Yes, Eden had left this with her. "Do you know where that girl went?" he was patient with her, gave a voice that he'd never really used before.. less rough, had she been here alone? Waiting? "Did she tell you to stay here and wait?" another enthusiastic nod and then she held up two fingers. "Two... two hours?" no, not that. She made a walking action and he got it. "Two people, two people where out there? Did she leave her things with you and go?" Yes! Yes she nodded so keen to get it across and whilst Cade was always so headstrong, to quick to be hot headed... he understood this little girls lack of desire to speak. "Thank you for telling me that, you did a really good job, do you have a mommy or daddy so I can tell them how brave you've been?" For a moment she looked hopeful and then her face dropped. "Are you on your own now kid?" the girl stood and rushed to this little stack of things in the corner, but took a very well loved book and brought it back to Cade to tap at the first page. This book belongs to Alma, he read it clearly and smiled gently. "Hi Alma, my name is Cade." He reached down and took a crayon and showed her as he wrote his name on the paper below her, and tapped himself. "Cade."

He wasn't about to leave a little girl her age out here, it was dangerous enough as adults and he was shocked she'd made it this far without adult supervision. Cade slowly sighed and when Ben entered she jumped a bit and instinctively moved to his arms. "It's alright Alma, it's okay. This is Ben, this is that nice ladies big brother, he's just lookin' for her." he explained but she was shy, hiding herself in Cade's chest and peeping at Ben who stared at the jacket. "Not dead." Cade made sure to say that first, before he began explaining what Alma had done her best to tell him. All the while lifting her and propping her legs through his backpack straps, so that he could keep her held up easily. He made a point to give Ben Edens things, minus the jacket he kept on Alma and made sure to take Alma's book, her crayons and the duck stuffed toy he'd found behind the counter. It wasn't a question of whether she wanted to come with them, he couldn't leave this kid alone out here and Ben agreed but his mind was in a spiral, thinking how to get his sister back already. "We'll get her back Ben, Eden is a tough cookie when she wants to be."

By the time they got back to South Side, it was pitch black and there wasn't a chance of getting anything more done tonight. He couldn't imagine the torture that put Ben in, but he had his own to do list now it seemed. Alma had grown sleepy, her head on his shoulder and Cade held his arms around her safely as he made his way to the shop they'd done out as a medic bay. It was a big improvement from when it'd been a medic tent in the middle of the street, this was far cleaner and much more spacious. "Agatha?" he called out when he entered, a little bell jingling above the door.

What a sight it must have been, to seen tough guy Cade who never let anyone in, cradling this little sleepy, exceptionally shy girl. He always had his mind on the mission, ready to improve, always moving just to keep his head busy from their morbid reality... but he'd slowed down to be at her pace. "Alma?" he hushed her name, rocking back and fourth like it'd suddenly come so naturally to him. "This nice lady here, this is my friend Agatha, do you think we can take this jacket off so Agatha can check you over? I'll look after it for you." her little fingers that held to the jacket slowly released. In such little time, she trusted Cade.

"Aggie I'm sorry, I know it's getting late but I uh.. I need to know she's not.." He'd be heart broken, if she was bitten.. if he was put into that situation, when he'd taken her on without a single doubt. That would crush him. "Standard protocol, anyone new gets checked over fully for infection. I don't know how long she'd been alone, all I know is Eden left her with the snacks she had so she's eaten something recently and drank water." he started to explain more methodically. Alma was giving wary eyes when Cade lifted her from the way he had her legs slotted in his backpack loops, placing her down on a bed gently. Her big blue eyes were following every movement Agatha made. That was when Cade decided to pull out the duck toy he'd retrieved and placed it beside her "I need ducky checking over to, in fact, maybe ducky can go first. What do you think kid, do you think ducky can be very brave for his check up?" she nodded and Cade lit with this wide smile. "Okay nurse, first we check under the left wing first?" with that he moved the duck so his wing was up in the air, then the other wing, and sweetly enough Alma copied the motion with her arms.

Normally it was Cade coming in here with stupid excuses, check overs just in case, a pulled muscle, a scratch that he'd more than once scuffed on purpose just to he could sit there quietly admiring the nurse he'd come to have such a soft spot for. Anything, anything at all, just to sit and waste a few hours of a hellish life, talking to her. @wiinestories !

[zeezed01]

Chapter Seven - In Perfect Formation

Percy sat cross-legged on the thin cot, the fabric creaking faintly as he adjusted his position. The tent felt stifling despite the cool morning air, the canvas walls trapping a faint scent of mildew and metal. Leo was perched on a nearby storage trunk, absently fiddling with a lighter.

“This place feels… wrong,” Percy muttered, his voice low.

Leo didn’t look up, flipping the lighter open and shut with a faint click. “Yeah, no kidding. Everyone here looks like they stepped out of a catalog for Rugged Military Weekly.” He paused, glancing at Percy. “That or a bad dystopian movie.”

Percy smirked despite himself, running a hand through his hair. “You notice the questions on those forms yesterday? They weren’t just about what we can do. They were trying to figure out what we believe in.”

Leo’s expression darkened slightly as he leaned back against the trunk. “We’re not here long enough to unpack all of that, man. Fill out the forms, eat their food, and leave before someone decides we need a uniform.”

“Agreed,” Percy said, but there was an edge to his voice. His fingers brushed the pistol strapped to his thigh—more out of habit than necessity.

The clanging of a bell outside cut off further conversation. Both of them exchanged a look before grabbing their jackets and stepping outside.

The camp buzzed with life, as orderly and methodical as the day before. Men in clean-cut uniforms moved in synchronized rhythm, carrying supplies or conducting drills. A few women were scattered among the groups, their presence strikingly rare compared to the near-overwhelming number of men.

The mess hall stood at the center of it all, its long wooden structure reinforced with steel plates. Inside, the same air of rigid discipline prevailed. Soldiers—or at least, that’s what they looked like—filed through the serving line with military precision, each tray identical. The room smelled of strong coffee, fried ham, and starch, but the atmosphere felt cold despite the warmth of the food.

Percy and Leo took their place at the end of a table, quietly observing the room. The conversations around them were muted, punctuated only by the scrape of cutlery against metal trays.

“You know what’s weird?” Leo said, keeping his voice low.

“Everything?” Percy replied, glancing up.

Leo nodded toward a nearby group. “It’s too perfect. Everyone’s clean. Rested. Even the uniforms look tailored. Where’s the grime? The desperation?”

Percy followed his gaze. It was true—the people here looked… untouched. Almost as if the horrors outside the camp’s gates hadn’t reached them.

Before Percy could respond, a voice cut through the hum of the room.

“You’re the new arrivals, right?”

They looked up to see a trio standing by their table. Clarisse, tall and broad-shouldered, crossed her arms as she studied them. Beside her, Luke smiled with easy confidence, his sharp blue eyes taking in the newcomers. Nico lingered slightly behind them, his dark gaze fixed intently on Percy and Leo.

“Clarisse,” the woman introduced herself, her voice steady and commanding. “This is Luke. And Nico.”

Luke nodded in greeting. “We heard about you from Davis. Welcome to the camp.”

Percy straightened slightly. “Thanks. I’m Percy. This is Leo.”

Clarisse took the seat directly across from Percy, her movements deliberate. “You’re lucky you found us. Most people out there don’t last long.”

“We’ve been managing,” Percy said evenly, though his fingers twitched near his pistol.

Luke grinned. “Not bad for drifters. But out there, it’s survival of the fittest. In here? We’ve got rules. Structure. It’s the only way to build something real.”

“It’s the only way to win,” Nico added, speaking for the first time. His voice was quiet but firm, carrying an intensity that made Percy sit up straighter. “You can’t rebuild the world without discipline. Without sacrifice.”

Clarisse nodded approvingly. “Nico gets it. He’s been here almost two years now. He knows what it takes to survive—and why we’re fighting for more than just scraps.”

“Two years?” Leo said, his eyebrows raising. “That’s a long time to be in one place.”

“It’s not just a place,” Nico said, his dark eyes unwavering. “It’s a cause. Out there, it’s chaos. In here, we have a purpose. We’re not just surviving—we’re rebuilding.”

Luke leaned forward slightly, his smile never faltering. “You stick around long enough, you’ll see why this works. There’s a reason we’ve thrived while everyone else struggles.”

Percy glanced at Leo, who gave him a subtle shrug. Turning back to the trio, Percy forced a small smile. “We’re still getting our bearings. But so far, it seems… impressive.”

“Good,” Clarisse said, standing abruptly. “Because we’re always looking for people who are ready to commit. You let us know when you are.”

The trio moved off, their presence leaving an odd tension behind. Percy watched them go, his gaze lingering on Nico. There was something unsettling about the younger boy’s conviction—an almost fanatical certainty that didn’t match his quiet demeanor.

That night, Percy lay awake in his cot, staring at the tent’s ceiling. The camp was eerily quiet, the usual nocturnal sounds of the wilderness replaced by a mechanical hum from the camp’s generators.

“You think Nico believes all that?” Percy asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Leo, lying on the opposite cot, rolled onto his side. “He’s been here long enough. Probably drank the Kool-Aid.”

Percy frowned, his thoughts circling back to the forms they’d filled out, the pristine uniforms, the calculated structure of the camp. Something about it all felt… off.

“Let’s just make it through tomorrow,” Percy muttered, closing his eyes.

The mess hall the next morning was even more crowded than the day before. Rows of men filed in with military precision, their boots striking the floor in perfect rhythm. The food was hearty—scrambled eggs, thick toast, and crispy bacon—but the atmosphere was clinical.

Percy and Leo sat near the end of a table, their movements cautious as they observed the others. The room was loud with conversation, but it all seemed to follow an invisible script—jokes shared between groups, quiet laughter, but nothing out of place.

Halfway through breakfast, Clarisse and Luke joined them, flanked by Nico, who sat silently at the edge of the table.

Clarisse launched into a story about a recent raid on a nearby grocery store, detailing the tactics they’d used to fend off a horde of zombies. Her voice was loud and commanding, her hands gesturing as she spoke.

Luke chimed in with his usual charm, recounting a story about a scavenger they’d encountered who had tried to steal supplies from their camp. “We showed him what happens when you don’t follow the rules,” Luke said with a grin, though his tone carried an edge that made Percy’s stomach churn.

Nico nodded in agreement, his voice calm but firm. “Discipline is what separates us from the chaos out there. Without it, we’re no better than the infected.”

Percy glanced at Leo, who was focused on his plate, his expression unreadable. Turning back to Nico, Percy forced a small smile. “You seem pretty passionate about this place.”

“It’s not just a place,” Nico said, his dark eyes steady. “It’s the future. We’re not just surviving—we’re rebuilding. Everything here has a purpose. Every person has a role. That’s the only way to win.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. Percy nodded slowly, but his unease deepened.

As breakfast wound down, the group dispersed, the room clearing with the same military efficiency that had marked every moment of their stay. Percy and Leo lingered at the edge of the hall, their thoughts heavy as they watched the camp’s inhabitants file out.

Leo leaned closer, his voice low. “We need to figure out what the hell is really going on here.”

Percy nodded, his jaw tight. “Agreed. But we can’t let them know we’re suspicious.”

“Not yet,” Leo said, his tone grim. “Not until we know what we’re dealing with.”

[wow635]

Chapter 7 not proofread… i think you’ll enjoy this one

I am now standing in my tent preparing for the first task. It’s been two months since my name got picked and we still don't know why. I am pacing back and fourth hoping my plan works when I hear someone whisper my name on the other side of the tent

I reach for the tent flap, starting to pull it back, my wand ready in my other hand when the person takes my hand and pulls me out of the tent.

I fall out stumbling right into Fred’s chest "Fred?" I back away a little but don’t pull our hands apart. “What are you doing here? You scared me"

“I’m sorry but I couldn’t let you go in there without telling you” he says putting a hand to my cheek sending a shiver down my spine

“Tell me what?” I whisper my voice going hoarse as I swallow back the lump that is forming in my throat, paired with my heart beating rapidly in my chest. Yet I can’t help but lean into his touch

“I really like you” he whispers looking at me. But not just looking at me, I mean really looking at me. His eyes bouncing from my lips back up to my eyes

“I…I like you too Fred” I whisper back looking back up at him

In a swift movement he lets go of my hand and puts both his hands on my face pulling me in and kissing me. My hands fall to his chest, bracing myself as I kiss him back softly

The world seems to dissolve around us. I kiss him back, letting my emotions pour into the kiss, matching his softness with a touch of sweetness.

Our lips gradually part as the sound of the bell brakes the spell, jolting us back to reality. Cedric's name echos through the air, signaling the beginning of the task. I reluctantly pull away from Fred, our hands still entwined as l mumble a reluctant admission. "I have to go," | whisper, my voice tinged with a touch of hesitation and longing.

Fred nods, his eyes filled with a mix of understanding and reluctant acceptance. "Be careful," he whispers, squeezing my hands gently. Our fingers linger, grasping each other tightly, as if silently prolonging the connection between us.

“I will” I whisper in a quiet promise and stand on my toes to kiss him again softly

I step back into the tent, with each hesitant step backward into the tent, my heart aches, knowing that our moment that I so longed for is coming to an end.

Still, I can't help but steal one last lingering glance at Fred, his eyes full with a mixture of worry and affection. As I leave him there standing outside the tent watching me walk away from him

And just like that, I disappear behind the canvas flaps, leaving him behind and stepping into the unknown once again.

———————————

I'm sitting alone in the tent, the other champions all having been called I jump when I hear the speakers. "Siena Roy!" The announcer says, I take a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest. Gathering every ounce of courage and determination, I step out of the tent, my jaw clenching

In that moment, as I face the roaring crowd and the weight of expectation, I can't help but wish for the reassuring presence of Fred.

But there is no time to dwell on such desires. The task awaits me, and it demands my full focus and strength.

The sight of the fearsome dragon before me sends a shiver down my spine. Its massive scale and intimidating presence fills me with trepidation. But with a deep breath, I summon my courage and cast a powerful shielding charm, erecting a protective purple barrier that envelopes me in its shimmering energy.

This might just work, I’ll be ok. I hope.

I take off running, dodging the ferocious dragon's fiery breath, adrenaline surging through my veins, fueling every step. I move swiftly and strategically, weaving through the ring with agility, my senses on high alert. The heat from the flames lick at my heels as I sprinted, narrowly evading their scorching touch.

I conjure a volley of Stunning Spells that I learned specially for this task, an direct them towards the dragon. It roars in surprise and pain, stunned by the impact. Seizing the opportunity, l slide under the disoriented creature, my heart pounding in my chest, and with lightning-fast reflexes, I seize the egg, clutching it tightly.

The crowd erupts into a deafening roar, their cheers echoing through the air, but I block it out, my focus solely on the task at hand. And I know if I give in and listen I’ll panic and freeze, so I push through.

I bolt along the edge of the arena, the dragon's flames chasing after me like a relentless inferno, I execute a series of desperate evasive maneuvers. Rolling on the ground to narrowly evade the scorching heat, my body moving with a blend of agility and instinct.

But the dragon's wrath is fierce, and a few wayward flames catch me, leaving a couple of painful scorch marks, including a shallow cut on my face. Ignoring the pain and the blood trickling down my cheek, I press on, refusing to yield to the beast's relentless assault.

With a surge of adrenaline, I unleash another barrage of spells at the dragon, its scales smoldering from the impact. I stumble, my balance faltering just as I reached the winning point. The crowd erupts into a storm of cheers, their voices echoing like thunder. But amidst the applause, the harsh jeers from a select few Slytherins cut through the air. Ignoring their bitter words, l clutch the precious egg tightly, my face adorned with exhaustion

———————————-

With a weary sigh, I slump onto the bench inside the tent, the Champion suit clinging tightly to my body. Time seems to move sluggishly as I wait for the judges to tally the scores, my body longing for the comfort of solitude and the embrace of my bed. Exhaustion tugged at every fiber of my being, leaving me longing for the tranquility of rest.

The wait seems to stretch endlessly, the minutes feeling like an eternity. My eyes are heavy, my muscles ache from the effort from the task. I can feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable. Finally, a call echos through the tent, summoning us back out.

As we stand in the arena, the air is filled with anticipation, our hearts pounding with a mix of nerves and hope. The judges, their faces lined with authority and impartiality, prepare to announce the scores for our performances.

The arena fall into a hushed silence as the scores are revealed, each of us holding our breath, anxiously awaiting the fate that lay in those numbers

"In first place a tie between viktor and siena with 40 points!" My heart skips a beat as the announcement reverberates through the air—a tie between me and Victor, both of us earning the highest score of 40 points. A wave of shock and disbelief washes over me, the magnitude of the accomplishment sinking in. I glance over at Victor, meeting his gaze, and despite the fierce rivalry, a flicker of mutual respect and acknowledgment pass between us.

The tension in the air intensifies as the judges continue their announcements. Cedric's name is declared as the second-highest scorer, and a chorus of cheers erupts from the crowd. Fleur, on the other hand, receives a score of 31, placing her in third place, and a mix of applause and

disappointment echo through the arena

———————————-

Still drained I congratulate viktor then emerge from the champions tent. I look up when I hear cheers and am met with the sight of all my friends standing in front of me cheering. I can’t help but smile back, my exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

I wrap my arms around Harry and let him shower me in praise and congratulations. I then move through the group hugging each and everyone of them with my tired aching limbs.

As our friends' attention is waned for a brief moment, Fred seizes the opportunity to pull me into a spontaneous hug, a twirl following suit. His voice carries a mix of admiration and relief as he whispered, "You did it," our bodies intertwined in a moment of celebration as I am lifted off the ground.

The touch of his arms, the warmth of his presence, and the shared understanding between us spoke volumes in that fleeting moment. I hug him back tightly then he puts me down

"I think l'm going to take a nap guys, I'm so tired" | laugh

"I don't blame you, that dragon did a number on you" Fred chuckles, his eyes filled with a mix of amusement and admiration . With a fond smile, he ruffles my hair playfully, "You deserve it. Go rest, champion."

I smile at the name. I bid everyone farewell as I start the long trek up to the castle and the gryfindors tower

————————————

As I reach my dormitory, the exhaustion gnaws at me reaching its peak, I collapse onto my bed with a weary thud. The soft sheets embracing me

With a weary sigh, I surrender to the exhaustion that’s consuming me, not bothering to change out of my champions suit. My eyelids grow heavy, gradually shutting out the world around me.

[unidentifiedly]

And many eventful nights to come

Micah Bell x reader

- In which Micah saves you from a "dangerous" situation. The man is smitten. Continuation to Eventful Morning.

Around a week later it was apparent Sean had kept his word. No one seemed to know or whisper about something having happened between you and Micah, and that was for the best. Arthur and John were still calling him names, Javier and Dutch were pretty much indifferent to him. Sean didn't tease him at all, but honestly you doubted anyone noticed, since he was being his old annoying self otherwise.

The day was set to be an exciting one. You and the girls were going to go shopping for new clothes, since a traveling salesman was visiting Valentine, the nearby town.

Atop your trunk near the mirror was your trinket box, in which you also stored some of the money you earned and had put in for safekeeping. This, you decided, was a good occasion to spend some of that money. You needed to buy at least two blouses and an overdress.

"Maybe it wasn't so bad what happened with Mr. Bell at the river after all." You caught yourself mid thought and almost slammed the trinket box shut, the metallic lock clicking shut with a bit too much force.

The feeling of wet fabric sticking to your cold skin, goosebumps traveling down your arms to your sides and onward to your legs. The early morning sun, and his arms...-

his arms holding you up from falling, his eyes all over your body.

"Why is my heart beating so hard?"

Shaking you away from the memory was Tilly calling for your name.

"Come on Y/N! Don't wanna be there too late, all them pretty dresses are going to be gone before we ever even see them!"

You stuffed the dollars to your pouch you carried with you, glancing at your gunbelt on the cot, taking a second to think.

"Whatever, there'll be many of us going', doubt i'll need that." Stomping out of the tent you made your way through the camp, past the fire pit and common area and grabbed Karen's outstretched hand, helping yourself onto the carriage.

Green fields upon green fields, a country road, not a cloud in the sky. The vast wide landscape shaping into mountains in the horizon, a couple of lush thickets here and there. Oh how you loved spring.

Upon arriving in Valentine you jumped down first, your bootheels sinking into the trampled upon mud. You corrected the hem of your red corduroy dress, helping Tilly and Karen down to the ground. Arthur and John who had been driving the carriage walked over, and bid their adieus after you all agreed to meet back at the same spot after an hour. You and the girls headed straight down the main street toward the vendor, who had set up shop on the vacant spot close to the sheriff's office.

Building after building were equipped with porches on stilts, to stop some of the mud from entering the interior perhaps, you thought. A couple of men passed out drunk by the saloon, and old woman smoking in front of the convenience store. On the opposite side of the street a motel, nice enough, and in front of it a gang of younger looking men.

You smiled to yourself, as one of them shot a look toward Karen. Always the looker.

With a skip in your step you took both the girls by their arms, smiling and laughing together.

Lifting the canvas to get into this tent was not necessary. The vendor had set up an open tent with tables filled with blouses, dresses, trousers and shoes of all different kinds. The vendor himself a lean dark skinned man with a thin moustache.

"Welcome, welcome, my ladies. What could I help you with today? A new dress, perhaps an embroidered blouse? The catalogue is large."

After deciding on some items, a red fabric caught your attention. Hidden beneath other clothes, you gently moved them away to uncover a bright vermilion blouse. Made from sturdy cotton and with patch-reinforced elbows, the shirt was undoubtedly of high quality. "How much for this one?" You asked, turning toward the shopkeeper.

"For you my dear, I will give a discount!" Pressing his hands together, closing his eyes: "Thirty and five dollars."

"Oh, I see, a bit too much then." You squeezed your hand around the pouch in your pocket, only containing a five dollar bill after splurging on the two blouses, overdress and new trousers you held on your other arm.

"Here." A grunt from behind you, and a man's arm placed bank notes and coins on the shopkeeper's outstretched hand. Looking pleased, the vendor offered the shirt, your eyes following the red of the fabric only to meet up with more red.

"Mr. Bell, please!" You huffed. "You have to stop scaring me like this!" Your complaints met with a smirk and a wink from under the rim of his dirty cowboy hat.

All of a sudden, a bang rang out, and women started screaming. Your eyes searched for the source of the scream, hands feeling for your trusty revolver, only to be met with air. "Fuck," you cursed after remembering you had decided to leave it in the camp.

"Eek!" A strong arm pulled you close and lifted you up on horseback. Micah stepped up on his horse's saddle, already swinging the reins for speed. "Hold on darlin'!" "You don't have to tell me twice!" Your arms hugging him tightly to keep yourself on Baylock. You caught a glimpse of Arthur tackling a guy to the ground while John was helping Karen up.

"Micah! We have to go help them!" Not turning around he slowed down until Baylock maintained a steady gait. Bringing the speed to a stop he jumped off, holding a hand out to you. You ascended as gracefully as one could, not taking his hand.

"Respectfully, Mic- Mr. Bell, you cannot keep doing this. Creeping up on me and causing me heart palpitations and awkward situations!"You huffed, red cheeked and arms crossed under your chest.

"Ya seem to like it, though, judging by the blush on yor cheeks."

"I- I don't know!" You blurted.

"Let me take ya out darlin'." Seeing your the doubting look in your eyes, he continued: "Nothin' weird, I swear."

Was this too good to be true? Sure, his methods of getting your attention were unorthodox but he wasn't exactly the most normal guy in the world. Glancing up at his eyes, shifting your weight to your right leg, you answered.

"Sure, Mr. Bell. Why not."

The seconds of uneasiness in his eyes turned into a few seconds of joy, and quickly back into his usual cocky self.

"Ya ain't gonna regret it. Quit the Mr. Bell bullshit though, call me Micah."

You nodded, and he motioned for you to get back onto the horse. You climbed up, yelping in the process after a palm made it's way firmly onto your rear, slapping and squeezing it. "Micah!"

"Ya like it, girl, quit yappin'."

Your arrival to the camp wasn't the quietest. Arthur yelling at Micah to swear he hadn't corrupted you, the girls calling him a dirty old man, and you just walking to your tent, giving Micah a joking smile and a wink from the doorway. His eyes looking past everyone questioning him and his motives, a sneaky smile spreading across his lips, a plan forming in his head.

Now there was a goal. He stuffed the new red shirt into his jacket and pushed past the people. He sat next to the fire and put his legs up, lighting a cigarette, angling himself so that he had a clear view of your tent.

And with everybody else gone to sleep, he downed the rest of his beer, saluting himself. "For an eventful night, and for many eventful nights to come." He got up, heading toward that tent with the light on with his signature smirk on his face.

[08melancholie]

Healing Hands. — Micah Bell/Reader

tags: Micah Bell/Reader, Micah Bell, Fluff, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Romantic Fluff, Healing, Healthy Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Sexual Assault, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Dark Past

summary: You shake in his grasp, his rough palms brushing every curve and slope of your body slowly, feasting on the feeling of your skin under his calloused touch. "I gotchu." And he does have you.

a/n: this fic is honestly shorter than i imagined it to be, but i think its a sweet little addition to my collection for times when i need a quick fix to my emotions:')

words: 1,179 | AO3 LINK

warning: NON-CON IS A PAST EXPERIENCE, ONLY BRIEFLY MENTIONED IN FIC

His hands feel like little blades of grass when they glide over your sensitive skin, exploring the surface slowly as if savouring the feeling of you under his calloused fingers. At least he knew how to be gentle.

Micah knew all too well why; why you asked him to leave space between you at night; why he had to leave the tent when you changed; why you needed time, before he could feel the smooth skin that lay underneath your various undershirts, pants or skirts.

The trauma has haunted you all your life since it occurred, the one singular moment in your life that changed everything, for both you and the people that surrounded you. No amount of revenge on the men who did that do you would make you feel the same again, but at least the support you got was more than enough to keep you sane.

Most of it came from your long-time partner.

With the—reluctant—help of Charles, Micah had went as far as tracking down your assaulters, which wasn't hard; seeing as they were the filthy O'Driscolls any of you could recognise in a heartbeat. He had them all judged before God for the unforgiving crime acted upon you in less than two days. And everything else from then on, was just never the same.

Nobody had any experience with this type of situation, really—Micah even less than the others. He respected every one of your wishes, even if they sounded damn absurd to a third-party, he wouldn't waste a second in agreeing to your terms. That's where he stood out most to you in these tough times.

You appreciated him wholeheartedly.

Night was approaching you both again, finally—after almost a month or so—able to share a cot with him again. You got into your nightwear and called Micah back into the tent. He parts the canvas flaps of your shared tent, stepping back in. "Thank you, doll," He hums as he takes a seat on the cot, per usual routine. "can't wait for some shuteye.." You take your seat next to him, and you relish in your silence for a moment.

"Say," Micah breaks the meekness surrounding the tent after a moment more, still looking ahead. "would 'ya let me try somethin', sugar?" He asks carefully, aware of how much you disliked testing the waters with this whole thing, nonetheless wanting to propose an idea. He continues after you, a little reluctantly, nod. "And, you stop me as soon as yer uncomfortable, 'ya hear?" He rises from the cot and prompts you to do the same.

You stand as well, and he has you stop in the middle of the tent. "Okay, trust me enough to close your eyes?" He prompts. Of course, you trust he won't do something too bad, so you close your eyes. "No peeking now, darlin'." He chuckles and you hear the sound of his boots walking on the ground, circling around you and stopping when behind you.

You tense up slightly when he puts his hands on your sides, your breathing doing some weird mixture of hitching up and quickening at the same time. "Relax, baby." His chin rests on your shoulder and he whispers to you quietly, trying to keep you calm for him. "I gotchu." He adds quietly as his hands stop at your waist, patiently waiting for you to either calm down or tell him to get off. But you choose to go with the first option.

"I'm not them, my girl.." He coos quietly into your ear as he, very slowly, moves his hands, fingertips digging gently into your sides as his digits get familiar with your body again, touching it how he has before. "You know I wouldn't do that to you," His sizeable hands go down, sinking to your hips as he leaves a small, easily missable peck to your temple before resting his head on your shoulder again. "my sweet, sweet darlin'..." He gently presses his fingers into your body over the fabric of your clothes, as if trying to sink into your body to be one, never wanting to part from you again.

He slowly loosens them, and they start going up, slowly tracing the outline of your lower torso. His hands stop at your ribs, and he slowly cups his hands over the underside of your chest. "Stay calm now, honey, I gotchu.. Not gonna touch you there, aight?" He gently drums his fingers over your bones, your slightly more rapid breathing making your chest move and ribs stick out slightly with your sharp inhales, the thin material of your shirt making it easy to trace the small bumps of your ribcage. He slowly sinks his hands again, digits dragging from the underside of your boobs down to your sides again.

"Good girl.. did so good, darlin'. How was that?" His small, worried frown swiftly disappears when you give positive feedback, mentioning your worry at first but alas feeling good; you had no problem with Micah touching you, seeing just how much you hated even the thought of becoming too afraid to let your lover touch you again.

But you love to be touched by him, so delicately as if your skin were made of porcelain, fragile and sacred. That's how you felt when being touched, for the first time in months.

He lays you back down on the cot, shuffling in next to you. "And.. 'ya wanna try again tonight?" He's making an implication to a few nights before, when you and him gave in and tried cuddling—safe to say it didn't go too well. You ended up sleeping on separate surfaces that night, but this.. it felt different. You could do it, and you trusted he could too. And so, with prayers in mind and fingers metaphorically crossed, he opens his arms to you. And with a ton of faith in yourself, you scoot closer and closer to the warm embrace of the blonde mans' arms, one you missed so very much, more than you could describe and more than anyone will ever be able to understand.

At first, it all comes back dark and tough; you feel as if you've got palm prints all over your body, and as if he can see them—as if anyone can, for that matter. It's an indescribable feeling as well, you wouldn't even wish this on your worst enemy. "I'm here, 'ts just me, doll.." And it's as if his voice is a light to your darkness, a softness to the toughness the situation brings you into, and it slowly starts to pull you out of it, your hearts rapid beating and heavy breaths starting to calm. Calm, it's a feeling you missed, and its one only he, the man holding you tight to his chest, as if shielding you from the bad and horrible, disgusting and wretched of the world you're in.

And as your arms meet around his upper body, and you both relax with a synced sigh—finally, you feel okay.

Now that you made it to the end—or if you've read the word count—you might notice this is my shortest fic yet. I usually push myself to get to at least 2.5k words per fic, seeing as I deem something 'too short' to be 'enjoyable' a lot, but that isn't true. Don't pay so much mind to the quantity, but not quality either! The goal with this was to get it out of my drafts, and we did that. Gold star! ⭐️

Kudos on AO3 heavily appreciated! Thank you for reading and the massive support, as always <3

[em-78]

Muse

“Become my muse” 

A small tentative smile. Unsure if she'll agree.

She freezes, his muse? Did she hear such a thing? She holds back a laugh, outstanding someone would ever like to draw her. 

She is just a canva devoid of colors. Bleak and monotone. Nothing interesting of the sort.

She stares at him, seeing his face calm, determined. What does he even see that is worth drawing? 

He bites his lips. He's starting to fear ever asking to begin with. He can notice her shift of mood, unsure and worried. 

He starts to open his mouth, ready to apologize. 

But with a sharp inhale she nodded her head slowly. 

“Alright.” She said in a hushed voice. 

“I'll be your muse.” 

________________________________________

He throws away the canvas harshly onto the floor. Making it lay beside the other paintings scattered across the room. 

“I can't think of anything.” He grits out. Hands tugging his hair frustrated. He gets up the stool, the charcoal tipping over the edge as he did so.

He begins to walk around the room. Looking at his most prized paintings. 

Newspaper, articles, forms, interviews,  wealth, influence, awards.

He achieved everything. 

So why can't he do the same this time again? 

He walks over to the window, looking out and sees the cold, windy weather. Fall is approaching. 

And he really should go take a breather as well.

“I need inspiration” He mumbled to himself. He walks out the painting room, closing it behind as he drapes a white blanket on the canva he was working on.

He would work on it later, of course. 

Grabbing a knee length coat and shoes he walks out, a breeze hitting him as he gets out. 

He rubs his hands together, trying to preserve his last remaining warmth as he stuffs them into the coat immediately after. 

He begins walking, unsure of where it'll guide him as he glances at the shops around. People inside happily laugh as they browse through antiques. Their eyes radiate warmth as they look at one another. 

He smiles humorlessly, he doubts he'll ever get to experience such a foreign emotion.

He stops at a Cafe. Opening and entering as the bell signals his arrival. A jovial lady walks right up. Her wrinkles are shown as she smiles sweetly at him.

“Welcome dear, please make yourself comfortable. We'll have someone to attend to you.” 

The lady guides him to a table, assuring once again someone will come shortly. He sits down, observing the Cafe. 

There wasn't much of anyone there. At most a elderly couple and a few customers. 

A lady appears in front, Marie. Her name tag read. She smiled, “What would you like today?” He looked at the menu. 

“Just a simple mocha and strawberry cake.” He says as he handed back the menu. 

She tugs it under her arm, nodding. “Alright, it'll be a few minutes.”

“That's fine.”

He leans back, smelling freshly backed bread ooze around with the Cafe. The ambiance is more pleasant with the odor swirling around the air deliciously. 

He hears the clattering of plates and looks up. Seeing Marie lay out of order in front of him. She peeks up, smiling bashfully.

Oh no.

Marie stands up, smiling. “Here is your order.” She pauses, still smiling. “You're not a frequent customer around here?” She then asks, biting her glossed lips as she winked.

He stares at her, annoyed. “No, I'm more interested in being a homebody.” He uttered bluntly. She blinks her eyes, taken aback. “Oh.” She rubs her arms awkwardly, shuffling her feet. “Do you have something to say?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Her eyes widen as she jumps up, startled. “No. Enjoy your meal sir.” She smiles sweetly at him before scurrying back. 

With a groan he drinks his mocha, exasperated.

Why do I even bother going out?

Em W.

[trailerpark2]

The Complete Guide to Canvas BELL Tents vs. WALL Tents