#chorus world map

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝓘𝓯 𝓘 𝓦𝓪𝓼 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓖𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭…☆━━━━━━━…‥・

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: A little suggestive, nothing too crazy

Tags: Fluff, kind of obsessed, little bit of foot worship lmao

Word Count: 4,695 (got a little carried away - didn't mean for it to be this long lol)

Inspiration: “If I Was Your Girlfriend” – Prince

Synopsis: Mark just needs to be close to you dammit and he can’t stand that you’ll be that way with your girl friends but not him >:(

Mark had never been the jealous type.

When the other kids on his baseball team would hit homeruns as a child, he would just cheer loudly; happy for their success and never once weighing them against his own shortcomings. In school, if his friends aced a test he would smile warmly and give them an encouraging pat to the back – even if he himself had barely managed to pull off a C+. He never viewed others as competition, truly believing there was enough goodness and success in this world to go around.

So why, then, did he so often now find himself leering at your friends?

You all were apart of the same clique in high school, eating lunch together and mingling in the halls between classes. The girls of the group, however, naturally seemed to gravitate toward one another, their conversations often filled with hushed chatter and occasional high-pitched giggles as the sweet smell of candy and flowers lingered in the air around them. It was both intoxicating, and intimidating.

He’d sit with William, only a few feet away but feeling like he might as well have been on the other side of the planet. And to make matters worse, William seemed to have the ability to easily flow between conversations – talking with Mark one minute then turning out of nowhere towards the feminine energy, picking up on something in the girl’s discourse that piqued his interest. They’d welcome his input, it always seeming to inevitably end in a chorus of laughter. How the hell did William do that? And why couldn’t Mark do the same?

Through the muddled noises of the girl’s tittering together, Mark always managed to single out your voice. It called to him like a siren’s song, his eyes lingering on the side of your perfect face as you smiled, lips parted and eyes closed. God, you were so perfect.

Occasionally, he’d find some buried courage within himself to try and join in the laughter – sliding a bit closer in your direction as he chuckled unsurely. And every time, the groups giggles would quickly die away, suddenly everyone seeming to need to clear their throats and look away. But not you. Your smile would linger as you turned your beautiful eyes onto him, leaving Mark struck dumb.

Most days though he would just watch from the outside as you all conversed together, his stare growing heavy as he looked between the other girls. Why were they all so greedy? Wasn’t Mark allowed in on the fun too? He wanted to laugh, dammit, and be in on the joke with you. In fact, he wanted you to laugh at his joke for once, and curl your lips upward because he said something that you liked. Was that really too much to ask for?

His internal struggle only seemed to worsen as he graduated high school and you both moved on to college. He was over the moon when he found out the two of you shared a class – introductory to physical geography. Mark was notoriously bad with this subject, and for once that seemed to work in his favor as study sessions became the new norm between the two of you.

And that brought him to where he sat today, cross-legged on your dorm room floor surrounded by textbooks, maps, and a heap of highlighters.

Your space was cozy, warm with the soft glow of a desk lamp accompanied by the quiet hum of music in the background. You were laid on your stomach across the bed, flipping through notes with a furrowed brow as you lost yourself in the studies.

Mark glanced up from the textbook in his lap, but his eyes didn’t land on the topographic map he was supposed to be memorizing. Instead, they found you.

You were chewing on the end of a pen, brows drawn together as you underlined something in your notebook. You looked tired—but beautiful. God, even the way your foot swung lazily in the air behind you had him captivated. He wasn’t even sure he was blinking anymore.

“You okay?” you asked suddenly, not looking up.

His heart jumped. “Huh? Yeah. Totally. Why?”

You finally lifted your head to look at him, and it took everything in him not to melt under your gaze. “You’ve been staring at the same page for, like, five minutes.”

“Oh.” He chuckled nervously and looked back down at the map, heat rising to his cheeks. “Guess I’m just... zoning out.”

You hummed, rolling onto your side so you could face him properly. “Want me to quiz you on drainage patterns again?”

He groaned theatrically and flopped back onto the floor, covering his eyes with one arm. “Not the drainage patterns…”

You laughed—really laughed—and he felt it bloom inside him like warmth from a sunbeam. It was such a rare sound, at least when he was the cause of it, that it left him stunned for a moment. He peeked out from under his arm to see you smiling, chin resting on your hand.

“What?” he asked, softer this time.

You shrugged, but your gaze didn’t leave his. “Nothing. You’re just funny sometimes.”

“Funny ‘haha’ or funny ‘weird’?”

You pretended to think for a second, then grinned. “A little bit of both.”

He grinned back, because God, that was something, wasn’t it? He could take ‘a little bit of both’ if it meant you were looking at him like that.

For a beat, neither of you said anything. The music in the background shifted to a slower track, something dreamy and low, and Mark let himself imagine—just for a second—what it would be like to move from this floor to your bed, to lay beside you and talk about the constellations or your favorite song or whether you ever thought about kissing someone like him.

And before he could stop himself, he said:

“Can I dress you?”

You blinked. “What?”

His brain practically short-circuited. “I—I mean not like that! I mean—not in a weird way! Not like… dress you-dress you. Just like, clothes. You. I mean—” He groaned and ran a hand down his face. “I heard you’re going to that concert this weekend and I thought… maybe I could help you pick out an outfit?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, clearly amused but unconvinced. “Mark… what are you even on about?”

He blinked, a little stunned by your reaction—like he’d genuinely expected you to take him seriously. You turned back to your notes, head lowering to refocus on the page.

But Mark didn’t move.

He stared for another second, then leaned forward, brows pulling together as something clenched in his chest.

“Aren’t we friends?” he asked suddenly, voice low and a little sharp around the edges.

You paused, pen halfway to the paper.

“I mean,” he went on, gesturing vaguely toward the room, the books, you, “you go shopping and hang out with your girl friends all the time. You laugh and do all this fun, random stuff with them, and no one thinks it’s weird when they pick out your outfits or tell you what shoes to wear or whatever. But I say one thing—one slightly weird thing—and suddenly it’s like I’m crazy.”

You turned your head slowly to look at him again, this time blinking in surprise.

Mark huffed, crossing his arms. “I just thought it would be fun. Like, something friends do.”

He sounded a little pouty now, and maybe he knew it, but he wasn’t backing down. Not when he’d finally gotten a tiny bit of the closeness he’d wanted for so long. Not when he could almost taste what it’d be like to be on the inside of your world, just a little more than before.

“You never let me in,” he muttered under his breath. “Not really.”

You stared at him, mouth parting like you wanted to say something—but the words didn’t come right away. The moment stretched out between you, thick and awkward and a little bit raw.

“I didn’t mean to make it weird,” Mark added quickly, voice softer now, “I just… I don’t know. I wanna know you like they know you.”

You sat up slowly, brow furrowed, clearly trying to make sense of everything he just said.

“Of course we’re friends, Mark,” you said, your voice careful but confused. “But… I mean… girls do that stuff. We help each other pick out outfits, and gossip, and vent about boy problems—”

“Boy problems??” Mark cut in, practically lurching forward.

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Are you having boy problems?” he repeated, eyes narrowing with an intensity that would’ve been comical if he didn’t look so genuinely concerned. “Is someone bothering you? Who is it? What’d he do?”

You blinked. “Wait—what? No, that’s not what I meant—”

“Because if a guy is messing with you,” he went on, his voice rising a little, “I swear I’ll—”

“Mark!” you said, loud enough to cut through his minor spiral. He froze mid-sentence, still visibly buzzing with protective energy.

You stared at him, unsure if you were about to laugh or throw a pillow at him. “Oh my god. I meant in general. Like, when girls talk to each other, that’s what we talk about. I wasn’t saying I have some guy hurting my feelings right now.”

“Oh,” he said, deflating slightly. “Right. Yeah. That makes sense. Totally.”

He looked away for a second, rubbing the back of his neck, and muttered under his breath, “...would’ve kicked his ass, though.”

You snorted despite yourself, grabbing a pillow off your bed and tossing it lightly at him. “Mark.”

He caught it with a grin that he tried to hide behind mock indignation. “What? I’m just being a good friend, remember?”

Your expression softened a little, but the confusion didn’t leave your eyes. “You’re a very… intense friend sometimes.”

Mark shrugged, half-smiling. “Guess I just like being around you more than most people.”

There it was again—that earnestness. It clung to his voice like honey. Not quite a confession, not really a joke. Just enough to leave you wondering what exactly he meant.

You gave him a look—equal parts fond and exasperated—but didn’t press the weirdness any further. The moment seemed to settle, the earlier tension dissolving into something more comfortable. You turned back toward your notes, laying flat on your stomach again, chin propped in your hand as your other foot swayed lazily in the air.

Mark watched you for a moment from the floor, half-expecting his heart to settle too. It didn’t.

His eyes drifted to your foot.

It was moving rhythmically, back and forth like it had a mind of its own. He followed it with his gaze, fixated. A quiet little thought popped into his head—uninvited, but not unwelcome.

Before he could question it, Mark stood up and made his way over to the bed. Without thinking, he sat right beside you, staring down at your foot like it had personally challenged him to a duel.

“Maybe I could paint your toenails,” he said.

You didn’t respond at first, clearly thinking you’d misheard him.

“…What?”

Mark’s hand was already around your ankle, gently lifting your foot like it was the most normal thing in the world. He looked at it thoughtfully, tilting his head slightly. “Yeah. I could totally do it. You have good feet for it.”

“Mark!”

He looked at you innocently. “What? I’m serious! I’ve got a steady hand. I could do, like… stripes. Or little flowers. Maybe stars? That’d be cool.”

You stared at him like he’d just offered to build you a rocket ship out of Q-tips.

“I cannot tell if you’re messing with me or having a mental breakdown in real time.”

“Can’t it be both?” he said, smirking now, still cradling your foot like it was the most natural thing ever.

You covered your face with your hands, muffling a laugh into your palms. “Oh my god.”

“What color would you go for, anyway?” he asked, gently wiggling your toes like he was already imagining the polish. “Something bright? Black? Maybe that dusty pink thing you wore last month?”

Your hands slid down your face just enough to peek at him through your fingers. “You noticed my toenail color last month?”

“I notice everything about you,” he said plainly.

And the thing was—he did. He really, truly did.

He noticed the way you scrunched your nose when you were concentrating. The way you flipped your pen between your fingers when you were trying to remember something. The way you always tugged your sleeve over your hand when the AC was too strong in the classroom.

And yeah—he noticed your feet.

It wasn’t like a thing, not really. He didn’t plan to notice them. It just… happened. Like the way your sneakers would dangle from one foot when you were sitting cross-legged, or how your toenails always seemed to be painted in these soft, thoughtful colors. Once, you’d had tiny stars drawn on your big toes, and he hadn’t been able to stop glancing at them the entire group study session.

Now he was actually holding one of those feet.

His thumb moved without him really telling it to, tracing gently along the arch, then rubbing slow circles into your heel. Your skin was soft. Warmer than he expected. And your toes were so... cute. Ridiculously cute. Delicate, even. The kind of detail he wouldn’t normally think twice about, but now it felt like he was touching something private. Sacred.

A weird warmth coiled low in his stomach, catching him off guard. He swallowed hard.

Wait.

No.

No, no, no.

He wasn’t a foot guy. He wasn’t. That wasn’t his thing. That had never been his thing.

So then why was his brain stalling? Why was his heart picking up speed like this? Why was he imagining kissing the tops of your toes and thinking it would be the most intimate thing in the entire universe?

What the hell is wrong with him?

He shifted slightly, trying to hide the rising flush in his cheeks, still absently rubbing your foot as if he hadn’t just mentally broken into an entirely new category of emotional—and maybe physical—confusion.

God. If William ever found out about this, he’d never hear the end of it.

But you weren’t pulling away. You were still laying there, letting him touch you, your shoulders gently rising and falling with your breath.

And somehow that made the heat in his chest worse. Made the moment feel heavier. Like something he wasn’t supposed to have—wasn’t even supposed to want—was suddenly right here in his hands.

Mark’s thumb brushed slowly across the top of your foot again.

You still didn’t move.

He blinked, watching your body for any kind of reaction—any twitch, any hint of discomfort. But all he could see was the slow rise and fall of your back as you laid there, face turned slightly away, quiet and calm.

And still, your foot stayed right there in his hand.

His heart skipped a beat.

Wait... is she into this?

He froze, eyes locked on your ankle like it had suddenly become a sacred object. His brain scrambled—grabbing at signs, trying to piece together the puzzle like it was some kind of test with no answer key. You weren’t pulling away. You weren’t laughing at him. You were letting it happen.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

She’s letting me touch her. She’s letting me hold her like this. Maybe—maybe she wants this?

And in a sudden wave of breathless, clumsy, Mark Grayson confidence, the kind that usually came right before he got punched in the face by a supervillain, he thought:

Just do it.

No more thinking. No more waiting.

Just do it.

He leaned in. No hesitation this time. And without another word—without asking, without explaining—he pressed his lips to your toes. A soft, warm kiss. Tender. Deliberate.

It wasn’t sexual. It wasn’t even romantic in the traditional sense. It was something else entirely—quiet and reverent, like he was thanking them for carrying you through the world, for letting him be this close, just for a second.

And when he pulled back, heart thudding in his chest, he didn’t move.

He just looked up at you.

Waiting.

Mark pulled back slowly, eyes wide and searching your face for any sign of… anything, really. He had no idea what was going on right now, but something was happening, and it was either going to go terribly wrong or way better than he had imagined.

The silence between you stretched out longer than he expected. You didn’t move—didn’t say anything—just stayed still, propped up on your arms, your foot still gently in his hand. But the weight of the moment was thick, pressing against him, making his stomach churn.

And then, slowly, like a wave crashing toward him, you turned your head.

Your eyes found his, a flicker of confusion dancing in them as you met his gaze. You didn’t say anything right away. You just looked at him, your brow furrowing slightly. Then, you parted your lips, exhaling just a little as you said, barely above a whisper, “Mark…”

His heart hammered in his chest. Oh God. Oh God, what the hell was she thinking?

He quickly glanced away, biting his lip nervously. “What? I mean… what’s the big deal? Isn’t this what friends do?”

It came out so much faster than he meant, a forced attempt at nonchalance that was painfully obvious. His eyes were wide, maybe a little too wide, but he couldn’t help it. Oh God, I can’t believe I said that.

“You know, like… helping each other out, right? With stuff. I thought… I thought you might want me to do something nice for you or whatever.” He was spiraling now, digging himself deeper and deeper. “Like, friends help each other pick out outfits or—”

But then he trailed off, realizing how insane he sounded.

Your expression didn’t change much—still that slight confusion, but now something else, too. A spark of humor? A glimmer of something else he couldn’t read?

He swallowed hard. He had no idea what to do next. His whole body was practically vibrating with the intensity of everything he’d just done.

“Well?” he managed, trying to salvage some kind of dignity. “Isn’t that what… what friends do?”

You stared at him for a beat longer, just long enough to let the silence hang heavy between you. Mark was practically sweating, looking anywhere but directly at you, and it was… almost adorable. Almost.

Then, a small smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Just a hint of mischief, something playful, but not mean. You tilted your head ever so slightly, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them:

“Friends, huh?” You let the word hang in the air, slowly leaning back on your elbows. “So, you’d do this to… oh, I dunno, William?”

Mark froze, his eyes snapping to yours like he’d been slapped with cold water. His mind scrambled to catch up with your teasing tone.

“Wha—what?” he stammered, now visibly flustered. “No, I mean, not William! I—I’m just—look, it’s different with you! You’re my… my friend, and—”

You raised an eyebrow, your smirk only widening at his increasing panic. “Different, huh? So you’d kiss William’s toes? Is that what you’re saying?”

Mark’s eyes widened even further as his brain absolutely went haywire. “I—I—No! No, of course not!” he blurted, hands flailing awkwardly. “I didn’t mean—God, that’s—no, just—look, you’re—you’re different, okay?” He paused, biting his lip like he was trying to hold back an entire speech that he couldn’t quite figure out. “I just… you’re… you. And I…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. You leaned back on your arms, grinning slyly, watching the storm inside his brain, thoroughly enjoying every second of it. Slowly, deliberately, you spread your toes apart—just a little—enough that the movement caught his eye, the stretch of your foot making the room feel even closer.

“Is it my toes you like,” you asked, voice teasing, “or maybe, is it… me?”

Mark froze.

His heart skipped a beat, then pounded loudly in his chest. He blinked rapidly, face flushed as his gaze locked on your foot once again. He could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks, a mix of confusion and something else he wasn’t sure he had the courage to face.

“You—you—what—what are you—” His words faltered, his brain scrambling to make sense of your teasing tone and the way your foot had just moved. Were you playing with him? Testing him? Or were you serious?

No. No, no, no, she couldn’t be serious. This was a joke.

But his heart was thudding too loudly in his ears for him to think clearly.

The corner of your mouth twitched upwards as you leaned in just slightly, your playful smirk never fading. “Well, Mark,” you said, your voice low and almost teasing, “are you gonna answer me?”

Mark’s mind went blank. His pulse was racing. His whole body tensed, frozen in a mix of terror and need. He could feel his chest tightening as your words hung in the air, spinning in his head like some impossible puzzle he couldn’t solve.

He was spiraling.

If he didn’t answer—if he didn’t say something now, this moment, this tension, was going to stretch out forever, and it would be so much worse than just admitting it. His palms were sweating, his heart pounding in his throat.

Just say something. Anything.

His eyes flickered between your smirk and the way your foot rested in his hand. Then, without thinking—without considering how ridiculous it sounded—he blurted it out in a single breath:

“You. I like you. All of you.”

He swallowed hard, the words coming out faster than he could stop them. “Not just your toes. I mean, yeah, your toes are cute and all, but... that’s not the point! I—I like you, okay? All of you.”

The confession hung in the air like a heavy weight.

Mark’s face flushed a deep red as he realized what had just tumbled out of his mouth. He opened his mouth again, ready to apologize, or explain, or somehow unsay what he’d just said. But no words came.

Instead, he just sat there, staring at you, his eyes wide with shock and embarrassment, waiting for whatever came next.

The words hung in the air between you like a live wire, crackling with unspoken meaning. Mark was still sitting there, frozen in place, completely vulnerable, his mind still trying to process everything that had just escaped his lips. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might burst.

You didn’t say anything right away. Instead, you just watched him, your gaze intense, studying him like you could see straight through him. Your chest rose and fell, just slightly, and Mark couldn’t help but notice how close the two of you were now, the tension practically vibrating between you.

And then, after what felt like an eternity of silence, you spoke.

Your voice was quieter now, softer—but laced with something Mark couldn’t quite place. Something daring.

“Then prove it.”

Mark blinked, his stomach lurching at the words.

He felt his breath catch in his throat, his pulse spiking again. His eyes widened, and for a moment, it was like everything around him disappeared. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

All he could do was stare at you, completely caught off guard by your response.

You weren’t laughing. You weren’t shying away. You were just looking at him—waiting. Quietly, calmly, but with a certain expectation in your eyes.

The weight of your words pressed down on him like a thousand pounds.

Prove it?

His brain sputtered. What did that mean? How did he even begin to prove something like this? He could barely even comprehend what was happening right now, let alone how to react.

But deep down, he knew. He knew exactly what you were asking. And he knew—knew—there was only one way forward.

Without thinking, without hesitation, Mark leaned in closer, his hand falling away from your foot as his body instinctively moved toward you. His heart was hammering in his chest, clouded eyes never leaving yours as the tension between you both thickened with each passing moment.

He slowly crawled up the bed, inch by inch, as if his body was acting on its own, taking over, moving closer to you with a sense of inevitability. He stopped above you, staring down at the most beautiful thing he had ever seen—your hair fanned out around your head, the soft rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips looked so inviting, so right.

He swallowed hard, his arm trembling on either side of your head as he held himself up above you. But then, without thinking about it any longer, Mark leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. The contact was light, hesitant, just a test—an almost unsure kiss. He pulled away quickly, unsure of what he was doing, his heart racing in his chest. Was it too much? Too soon?

But you didn’t pull back. You didn’t shy away.

That was all he needed. His breath hitched, and before he could second-guess himself, Mark dove back into the kiss. This time, it was deeper, firmer, the hesitation melting away as he found himself falling into it, like a man starved. His lips moved against yours with increasing urgency, his hand finding your face, gently cupping it, as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

The kiss was clumsy at first, raw, desperate—Mark couldn’t help himself. He wanted you. Needed you. And you were finally here, pinned beneath him, in this moment. His body pressed against yours, his chest tight, his hands roving across your skin, his fingers trembling as he explored.

His lips parted nervously, but you immediately reciprocated – was this all a dream? His tongue slipped into your mouth, tasting you like this for the first time. He couldn’t help the groan that rumbled through his chest, his hips subconsciously pressing down harder into yours. And you, in turn, back immediately painfully aware of the hard length pulsing against your inner thigh.

After a time that felt way to short in Mark’s opinion, you gently pushed him away, just enough to create some distance between you. Mark’s chest heaved as he pulled back slightly, his eyes wide, still clouded with a mix of desperation and shock. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body still buzzing with the intensity of the kiss.

His hands hovered uncertainly in the air as if they didn’t know what to do without you there. “Wait… what—what’s happening?” he gasped, his voice a little shaky, trying to make sense of what just happened.

You smiled softly, teasingly, a playful glint in your eyes as you looked up at him, enjoying the way his expression was still a mix of confusion and urgency. You let your head fall back down into the bed, your posture relaxed, while his body still felt tense, like he was poised to dive right back into it.

“Yeah,” you said with a little shrug, “that’s not what friends do, Mark.” The teasing smirk on your face only deepened, and your voice lowered into something more playful as you added, “You really gonna tell me that friends kiss like that?”

Mark blinked, looking almost flustered by the teasing, but his expression quickly morphed into something more determined—more sincere. He leaned in a little closer, his voice barely above a whisper, his words coming out with a mix of uncertainty and raw honesty.

“If the friend is you?” he said, his gaze intense, “Then God I hope so.”

[starryficsfinishwen]

── .✦ doomsday game ; xiangli yao x reader

if the world was ending, would you love me for the hell of it? syn. if, theoretically, the world were to end today, what would you do? if you ask xiangli yao, he wouldn't mind spending the last days on earth with you.

*inspired by 4* zayne card with the same name (love and deepspace)

a.n. - oh god he corrupts me I love him. HAPPY RELEASE DAY XIANGLI YAO!!! As an honor for getting his weap, for now being guaranteed (my S1 Xiangli Yao is glacio and short??), I GIVE THIS FIC AS MY THANK YOU. ALSOHAHSHSHSHS I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE WRONG FIC IM SORRY BUT HERE IT IS

pairing - xiangli yao x f!rover

words - will edit when I switch to lappy

content warnings - none!! major fluff!! also pre-established relationship

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Potent rumors often plant seeds of disbelief.

It often came as a small white lie, an utterance between two consenting parties. When it reaches the leeching tongue of the birds, they fall to the ground, sprouting things that are weeds to the truth. If left alone, they would deter nature's course.

For example, the rumors somewhat turned into some prophecy— “the world is ending soon”.

How does it end? They say it's a global snowstorm. Maybe another global flood. A supernova collision. No, they definitely said it was an onslaught of active volcanoes erupting to create a flood of lava. Or maybe, some Sentinel wished for immense havoc, with its god-like power awakening to slaughter everything in its path.

However, for scientists like Xiangli Yao, all those claims seem comical.

“The world is ending soon?” A fellow scientist slaps his own knee, “That's complete bull!”

In the middle of the long table of the Academy, what was once a flickering 3D map of Jinzhou was temporarily dimmed; instead, a couple of scientists had gathered, playing cards for their breaktime.

“I know, right? It's too funny; they really think the world is ending so soon.”

One of them throws the card, a chorus of laughter.

“My findings say otherwise,” said a cocky researcher, “The fluctuations isn't very severe. We can live to see another millennia here in our world!”

“The plants and people are still alive and well.” The glimmer of a card catches everyone else's attention, “Very far from the truth indeed.”

One scientist lets out an indignant huff, “But how did they even reach that conclusion? Do they have the data?”

The group pauses for a bit. Some bit their lip, another shuffled their cards, and the other couldn't help but sigh. “Um, proof or not, I think they are still sprouting nonsense.” Muttered the first scientist.

Another eerie silence envelops them. Until one of them throws a card at the center. “The tacet marks have been spreading nonstop...”

They throw another. “TD's are also unstable, giving a major interference to the once-natural resonance cords.”

And when he throws the last trump card, almost all of the players had a grim look on their face. “We are merely just a few months recovering from the Retroact Rain. Our soldiers cannot handle another catastrophe!!”

With a trembling shout from the scientist, everyone else near the group stopped on their tracks. Noticing that the attention was on him, the poor scientist slides back to his chair, embarrassed. Even the ones he was playing with had a gloomy face.

“...Not to diminish our pride but...who knows...what happens to Jinzhou...not to mention our Sentinel and Magistrate...”

“That's understandable. The evidences speak for themselves.”

All eyes are on the man who spoke after a long while. Between the dim lights of the Academy's hall and his slow steps, his versicolored eyes glimmers brightly than ever.

“I understand your concerns, Ray,” Xiangli Yao reaches out to pat the forlorn scientist by his shoulder, “We are merely at the recovery stage for Jinzhou, yet our nation has been going through too many things already.”

Amethyst eyes wander among the resonance cords on the screen. They catch a familiar face of a person, one that made his own heart skip a beat.

“However, Jinzhou still stands until today. We cannot say the exact date for the end of the world—it could be today, tomorrow, or another millennium—but as long as we are still here to see the flowers blooming or the children laughing, then why should we stop today?”

A roar of cheers erupts throughout the hall. The lamenting scientist sniffles in joy. Yet the Principal Investigator couldn't look away from the certain figure of a girl.

“But if the world were to end soon,” muttered a nearby scientist, causing Xiangli Yao to glance at him, “Hmm...I wonder where I'll go.”

Without a clear future in mind, and you, the Rover, who only woke up just now—the thought is scary. If, indeed, the world was ending soon, then what happens next? What happens to you?

The cats have been meowing nonstop.

As if sensing the air, they were pawing at your ankles, as if trying to catch your attention. One, two, three- maybe even five- cats trying to catch your attention.

Picking the white one, who was the one visibly stressed, you coo her as you scratched the back of her ear.

“What's wrong, hm?” You playfully kissed the cat's cheek, “Was the food not enough for you? If I overfeed you, Mr. Investigator will have to put you on another diet.”

Somehow understanding you, the cat gently pushes you off of their face with their paws, meowing.

“Hey, I'm telling the truth! As much as it hurts my poor heart, I can't feed you again today...”

“...I suppose you can allow them,” pipped a familiar voice, “They do look awfully thin.”

Nearly spilling the cat off of your arms, you squeak as you turn to meet a smiling Xiangli Yao. “M-Mr. Investigator?!”

“It's the first time you've addressed me by my title, Ms. Rover,” He teases, opting to carry the black cat on your feet, “I suppose our relationship is back to being professional?”

“The cats seem to know you more like that,” you emphasized, “Mr. Principal Investigator.”

He laughs—a tender laugh, it makes your heart squeeze—that it makes you pout. “I suppose that is right. Consider it a working place, then.”

Xiangli Yao stands next to you, holding out the black cat as it meows. With a funny thought, you ask, “Did you even know why they approached you in the first place?”

“Is it because I feed them?”

“No,” You playfully stuck out your tongue at him, “They say it's because it's to ward off bad spirits.”

Xiangli Yao goes silent, before looking at the cat, then back to you. “Hmm. I suppose I should stay away from you?”

Ultimately backfired. The joke goes back to you. With a dramatic gasp, you shrug. “Seeing as the cats was the one who approached me today, I think it's you who should go away for now.”

Freely laughing onto the summer air, the cats' meows intertwine with the yours. It's like any other workday— Xiangli Yao leaves mid-afternoon from work to meet and feed the cats, walking elsewhere until he's comfortable enough to go and finish his work.

It's only been a few weeks since a new addition to his itinerary: you. Now, every afternoon, the cats would find themselves carried by the warm sunlight; and you, taking care of them before him, drenched in sunset glow.

Like now, Xiangli Yao notes. But the thoughts were far too tempting. He takes a dive in them.

“So, Mr. Investigator,” you asked as you found yourselves by the stalls, nudging him softly, “where to next?”

The cats slowly left as soon as your walks stretched farther than usual. You were too nice to disturb Xiangli Yao, when he was far too absorbed in his thoughts.

“...Ah,” He purses his lips, slowly stopping in his steps, “I'm sorry, Rover. I hadn't realized we've gone this far.”

The streets decorated with the loud and bursting stalls sound in the background. Yet in the midst of it all, Xiangli Yao is silent as ever, his robotic hand over his lips, eyebrows furrowed. You think it's cute, from the curve of his pout, but you quickly shake it off.

“No worries at all. But you look like you have a lot on your mind, maybe you want to share them?”

Xiangli Yao looks at you. Behind you, the sun in Jinzhou has never set—bathing you in its reverberating halo, casting an ethereal glow. With his heart skipping a beat, he looks away with a sigh.

“...[Y/N],” every syllable of your name sounds too foreign for him, yet too holy, “Would you...like to come and stay with me for now?”

“Of course,” You smile, “Where do you want to go, Xiangli?”

His face remains serious as he speaks. “My house.”

“...I'm sorry?”

Going to Xiangli Yao's house was something you've never expected.

Sure, you often get invitations to visit your friends' houses once in a while. But it seems different when someone like Xiangli Yao asks you to go home with me.

Wait. With a mental slap, you scold yourself. Why do you feel different when it's with Xiangli Yao? Was there something about him? Watching unfocused amethyst eyes seems to make you worry. You were definitely not feeling something, right?

Unless?

“Is there anything else you'd like?” Xiangli Yao pops up from his kitchen, carrying a plate full of snacks in one arm and drinks in another, “I'm sorry, these are some of the food I could make.”

“It's okay, I'm more than happy to already taste what you make!” You said as you rush to help him.

But as you are about to take the plates, you couldn't help but gasp.

“Oh, does my hand scare you?”

Instead of the usual robotic hand you've grown accustomed to, it had morphed into a larger metal plate, to fit the two plates.

“No!” You shake your head with a laugh, “It's just the first time I've seen it like this. Does it change back?”

By the time the plates are on the table, Xiangli Yao twists his robotic hand (plate?), popping it out of the socket. “It does. Let me get it.”

“Do you...” Watching him scurry, you pick up a chip from the plate, “...need a hand?”

A resounding clang! echoes back to you. It takes a while before he returns to the room, rolling his hand as he grins. “I believe it's back in its proper place.”

Still the same stupid jokes that make you cackle. Eventually, you both settle down. The afternoon telenovela plays on the TV. Finally settled to sit on the ground instead of the chair, you end up picking the savory chips, munching as you devotedly watch the scenes in front of you. You don't even bat an eye even as you feel Xiangli Yao sits next to you. Silence. But a good kind.

How long have you known Xiangli Yao again? Whatever you both do, you're still content with each other's company. From the corner of your eye, you notice his gaze firmly on the TV, empty hands hair's breadth away.

“The Moonlit Fair,” you said slowly after a comfortable silence, “now that it's over, are you back to your usual work?”

He hums. “Depends how you define "usual work".”

“Metalwork and other groundbreaking discoveries.”

You bring your knees close to your face, resting your head so you could comfortably turn to see Xiangli Yao's face. Chromatic colors paint the neutral look on his face. Yet when he turns, a pretty smile replaces it.

“The field of science is only a curiosity away,” he pipes, mimicking your pose, “That's always something I've been doing, even before the start of the Moonlit Fair.”

This goody-two-shoes prodigy has always been the talk of the town. Even in Huaxu Academy, even from Mortefi's mouth, he is long lauded as someone who easily creates breakthroughs.

“I'm jealous.” You admit, sighing, “You can easily create new things.”

“That's not true.”

“Ah, I guess I can say with pride that I often help people, too.”

“However you may say it, it doesn't erase the fact that you are doing so much more than you think.” He said, “You're the mysterious Rover. You have lost memories related to this city. And from what I've heard, you hold so much history.”

He reaches out, human hand hesitating to touch your face. With a fleeting downcast gaze, he ends up booping your cheek. It makes you flinch from surprise.

“...I should be the one jealous of you, if that's the case, [Y/N].” His smile causes his eyes to close, a genuine look on his face, “You've done many incredible things that are worthy rather than simple praises.”

Did Xiangli Yao ever look this pretty before? Soft skin and amethyst irises through fluttering lashes. You wish you could brush away the hair that covers his eyes. Carefree, kissable lips. Wait—you cough, looking awau to hide the blush tinting your cheeks.

“Please, stop flattering me. I might end up bursting a hole in your roof.”

“I'll be sure to let Xiang-LEE and Patty fix that.”

A ticklish giggle escapes your lips as you turn back to see him. “Please leave my kids alone, you have overworked them during the festival.”

“...Please don't worry,” he shrugs, chuckling, “They'll be granted a paid vacation anyways.”

Seeing as the telenovela has lost its charm, and the poor food in front of you could go to waste, and maybe not wanting to end the fun yet, you decide to test your waters.

“Xiangli,” you said, noticing how he perked his head at the mention of his name, “I want to play a game.”

“An electronic one again?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Truth or Dare.”

Xiangli Yao laughs. “Oh, I didn't know you were into childish games like that.”

“I'm curious about you, and I'm sure you feel the same way.” You point out, “What's a better way than to play a game?”

“You could have asked and I wouldn't mind answering, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sit up straight, grinning, “Truth or Dare?”

Xiangli Yao mirrors you. “Already?”

“Pick already, or I might change my mind.”

“Hmm...Dare.”

Suppose your afternoon would be so different. A few chugs of the drinks, greedy hoarding of chips, spent markers, and random doodles later, you find yourself dressed in one of his lab coats with a clip of some of his IDs, and him in the flashiest shirt. The laughter has long strained your lips but it still ends up being the sweetest you've ever tasted. Apart from that, the glow in Xiangli Yao's face is also different, one that makes your heart skip faster.

“You've what?”

Xiangli Yao laughs a little too loudly. “A mini mouse that would greet anyone who opens the door. Mortefi was the first victim, because I didn't know he was deathly afraid of mice.”

The mental image of Mortefi from Xiangli Yao's prank comes abruptly that it causes you to match the latter's laughter—hollering until your back finds the sofa, slapping the carpet.

“Oh my God,” you wheeze, “It's not even a surprise why he hates you even more!”

Xiangli Yao wipes a tear from his eye, sparkly eyeshadow slightly staining his cheeks, “I bought him some coffee to apologize, but the joke hadn't died down for weeks.”

He finds himself sitting closely with you now, head against the sofa. With a little of your mingling laughter in the air, he couldn't help but watch as your fits of laughter continued, albeit a little softer. Through your literal rose-colored lenses, did you see the world like that, too?

“It's my turn now, right?” You ask, your shoulders an aftershock from your laughter.

“Mm,” he nods, “Have you run out already?”

“No, never!”

“Alright, since I've been picking dares for a while. I'll go with truth.”

“Have you ever heard of the rumors?” You begin, laughter dying down, as you take a bite from the chip. “That the world is "ending soon"?”

Xiangli Yao freezes. So you've heard. It's no surprise as it already made a turmoil between the scientists in Huaxu Academy. Yet the dread somehow comes creeping back to him.

“If, theoretically, the world were to end today,” you slowly speak, carefully choosing the words, “In a few hours or so. What would you do?”

What would he do? A tricky question. But a calid one at that. “The end of the world wouldn't happen so abruptly.”

“Mm, yeah, but I am curious about your answer.”

What would Xiangli Yao do? And somehow, the dimming living room feels so small, the only light source was a forgotten TV color palette. When he looks at you, your doe eyes sparkle in the darkness. The closeness of your bodies, the fleeting smell of spring on your shoulder, with a hint of him.

“Well...” He slides down to the floor, patting the space beside him, “I'll let you know if you lay here with me.”

“Are you sure there are no pranks here?”

“I'm honest.”

You eventually follow his words, so you could meet the level of his eyes. Watching the glow of his inspiration-filled eyes, they somehow make you smile.

“I heard all about it when my colleagues were playing a game during break time.” Xiangli Yao begins, “Some claim it's not true, but there have been others who believe it's so soon.”

“What do you think?”

He looks away, opting to stare at the ceiling above. You follow his sight, unaware of what was next.

“I don't know.” He says truthfully, robotic hand pointing upward, “With everything that has happened, no one else can predict it.”

“Even a knowledgeable scientist like you?”

He glances at you. “Even a knowledgeable scientist like me.”

He looks back to where his hand points. Casting a power, a small purple cube dances in his robotic hand, knowing that you were watching so intently.

“But if the world were to end today, then I wouldn't mind spending the day with the cats I feed.”

The cube glows brightly, floating so freely in his hand. A flash of scenes play through its squares, too fast to see, yet too slow to be noticed.

“I wouldn't mind having the TV on, sitting on the floor with snacks all over, even though there's a perfectly good sofa.”

He hears your small laugh, which makes him smile. The cube falls to his chest, where it travels all the way to you.

“I wouldn't mind spending the last hours playing Truth or Dare, with someone who's extraordinary.”

This time, Xiangli Yao looks at you. Wide-eyed and speechless, from the way the cube touches your outstretched hand, watching the faint glow of the halo on your own body. If the world were to end, he wouldn't get tired of watching this view; watching the rise and fall of your chest as you stare in awe, calloused hands tenderly watching over his own work of art, knowing that there'll never be another you if the world were to end.

Knowing that he's long been blessed to exist in the world where you are in it.

“I think I wouldn't mind spending the last hours on Solaris-3 with you, [Y/N].”

The cube pops, a sprinkle of glitter all over your body. Glancing, your heart throbs loudly in your chest, as you heard his confession.

How did this happen again? You were merely friends with the scientist. After the successful Moonlit Fair, you often find yourself bumping into him, simple errands and impromptu hang outs when you do. Watching Xiangli Yao in his humble abode, the telenovela a white noise, and the shade of colors lighting his face—have you ever seen him more than a friend?

“Xiangli Yao,” you breathe, which made him freeze, “you...”

He smiles. “I'm not rushing to know your answer. I am merely stating the facts.”

A good friend. But now you figured out why that rubs you off the wrong way. You have always known the answer to your feelings.

“[Y/N],” Even the way Xiangli Yao speaks your name, a softer one, where in the world they called you "Rover", he calls you differently.

“[Y/N],” Reaching out, his human hand finds a strand of your hair, gently pulling it to his lips. “[Y/N],”

Xiangli Yao calls your name, one that makes you throb.

“If, theoretically,” he repeats the question you asked before, “the world does end today, what will you do?”

In a world where your memories are lost in the ripples of time and reverberation. You had the same answer.

“...I wouldn't mind spending it with a certain scientist.” You smile, watching him mirror yours, “I wouldn't mind spending it with you, Xiangli Yao.”

“[Y/N]...”

“Xiangli,” you reach out to cup his cheek, to which he closes his eyes to snuggle to the warmth, “Xiangli, you're like the cats.”

“Then will you ever mind if I could hold on to you?”

Weary arms find themselves asking for yours. And like you, touch-starved for his own touch, lean onto him, the smell of spring and that you could forget the world.

“...I would,” you said, and you do mean it, “I'll hold onto you, Xiangli.”

Oh god pls let me have him irl too

don't forget to like, comment, share, and reblog!!

— starry

[katsukissed]

drabble | bakugo x reader | fluff

bakugo and kpopfan!reader - two massive nerds in love. he collects all might cards. you collect photocards.

thinking of bakugo and reader both being MASSIVE NERDS.

like obviously everyone knows about bakugos obsession with all might but imagine reader also having an obsession like kpop! (this is self indulgent because this is me LOL)

you’re just as bad as him.

except your weakness is photocards.

and boy groups.

and glittery album inclusions that you nearly cried over once because you pulled your ult on the first try.

god. the way he respects it.

like sure, he talks shit. he’ll cross his arms and say “you spent how much on that little piece of paper?”

you forcing bakugo to pick a bias every time you stan a new group. you’re sat cross-legged on the couch with your ipad open like you’re presenting a TED Talk.

bakugo’s got his arms crossed and his “i don’t care” face on. he absolutely cares. you introduce each member and show your favourite performance video.

“okay so who’s your bias?”

bakugo blinks.

“…that one. the one in the blue. he’s the best.”

he probably just picks a random one to satisfy you but whatever. 😭

doesn’t know the names. doesn’t need to. he’ll just say “i saw your favorite guy’s new hair”. and then lets you ramble for an hour about how this is the most important thing ever.

you drag him to every concert. he shows up in a basic fit, phone 100% charged, battery pack ready, already mapped the route to the venue and back.

“you’ll get lost without me,” he grumbles.

he takes perfect videos. better than the fansites. catches the exact moment your fave makes eye contact with your section and you scream like you’ve been shot.

and he gets the whole thing on video - you, singing along, hands in the air, eyes sparkling. on the way home he’ll send you all the photos so you can post them on instagram.

you caught him singing Likey by TWICE once while he was doing dishes.

and by “singing,” you mean full-on under-the-breath chorus, hips swaying slightly.

you got the first five seconds on video before he turned around and yelled “DELETE THAT SHIT.”

but of course you are there for his interests too.

most nights, it’s quiet.

you’re on the floor surrounded by sleeves and washi tape, trying to reorganize your binder by era again.

he’s at the table, deep in his own world - alphabetizing all might cards by arc and manufacturer like it’s the end of days.

quiet music is playing. there’s a half-finished soda on the table. your knees brush under the desk and neither of you say anything.

“hey,” you say, squinting. “does this sleeve look weird to you?”

“it’s 55x85. that’s the wrong kind. switch it.”

he doesn’t even look up.

he gets just as hyped as you do over limited drops.

“only the first 1,000 got the clear lenticular card with the glitter foil…”

“yeah. that’s like the 2014 all might x jump festa gold variant. shit was brutal.”

you nod solemnly.

you’re both sat on the couch at 11:58PM on a thursday, two laptops open, countdown running.

you’re logged into each other’s accounts.

“you do the weverse drop, i’ll grab from animate. GO.”

you high-five like olympians when you both get your stuff.

and then you spend the rest of the night sleeving new pulls in perfect silence, trading gummy bears between bites.

no one gets it but you two.

and honestly?

you wouldn’t have it any other way.

⤷ @katsukissed

do not repost, translate, or plagiarise. reblogs are appreciated ♡

[mr-cha-n]

Echoes of Summer

Pairings: Kwon Soonyoung x fem!reader, suggestions of Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genres: fluff, angst, camp counsellors AU, sunshine x sunshine

Warnings: drinking, profanities, mentions of sex

Word Count: 18.7k

Summary: Get ready for the most unforgettable summer yet at Camp Logan, where lifelong memories are made, friendships are strengthened, and old crushes make new appearances.

In the backseat of your best friend’s pink Honda Jazz, with Britney and Fergie blasting on the radio and wind rushing through your hair from the rolled-down windows – it has never felt more like summer break.

As you speed down the highway, Emma turns around from the passenger seat to offer you a sip of her Spire remix, which you eagerly accept.

“Are we getting close?” She yells over the music.

You nod as you gulp down the fizzy drink, unable to respond with your mouth full. Unfolding the map beside you, you check the upcoming junction.

“Yeah! I think it’s only three more junctions?” You reply, grinning with excitement.

“Seeing how pumped you are right now almost makes me jealous,” Jane laughs from the driver’s seat, catching your eye in the rearview mirror. “Except, then I remember you’re going to summer camp as an adult, without getting to do any of the cool stuff.”

“That’s not true!” You gasp, feigning offence. “I don’t have to follow the rules, just enforce them – so once the kids are asleep, I can do whatever I want!”

“Oh, you’re adorable.” Emma chuckles. “Those kids are gonna wear you our so much, you’ll be asleep before they are.”

You pout at her, huffing in disagreement.

Sure, being a camp leader might not be everyone’s idea of a great summer, but they at least have to admit that it would be fun. What could be better than running around, doing fun activities, and helping kids have the best time ever?

Well, Jane and Emma would probably argue that their trip to Majorca would be more fun – but you’re convinced that they’re underestimating just how awesome campfires and s’mores can be.

“Okay, how about this – if you have a summer fling with a hot, mysterious camp counsellor that you never see again, I’ll consider your summer better than ours.”

You snort at the suggestion, a bit of the fizz going up your nose, making you sneeze.

“When I was a kid, I used to write diary entries every day at camp wishing for a passionate summer romance with another camper,” You admit after a moment. “It was always about the same kid – Kim Mingyu – we went every year, and I think I ended up talking to him all of twice?”

“Wow, new (Y/n) lore! That explains why you’re such a hopeless loser when it comes to crushes.” Emma teases.

“I can’t even deny it!” You dramatically fall back into your seat in mock despair. “It’s hard being a hopeless romantic in a world where everyone else is so … practical.”

Jane chuckles, shifting her seat as she glances at you in the mirror. “You say that now, but just wait. True romance only comes when you’re not expecting it.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help but smile at the thought. “You two are just setting me up for disappointment. What if all the other counsellors are, like, sixty?”

“Then you’ll get some great life advice,” Emma quips, twisting around to give you a playful grin.

“Besides, age is just a number!” Jane adds, waggling her eyebrows suggestively and making you all burst into laughter.

“To be honest, I think you’ll be too busy looking for frogs to look for a prince. You wouldn’t realise someone was into you if they hit you round the head with it.” Emma snorts.

“Yeah, yeah – that was one time!”

“The frogs or the crush?”

“Alright! We can’t all be Casanova’s now can we? Besides, you’re probably right – I do plan on going frog catching and it might take a while.”

You lean backwards, posing with crossed arms and a nodding head. Your pretence at coolness is unfortunately cut off quickly, as Jane slams the car down the junction exit that she’d almost missed, toppling you back into your seat.

A chorus of giggles explodes in the car.

“Do you think you’re going to be able to survive on your own for a month?” Jane chortles.

“The real question is – do you think you’re going to be able to survive a month without me?” You respond, playfully patting her shoulder.

“It’s going to be tough.” Emma agrees with mock seriousness, although you can feel the tender truth to her words. “Luckily, we’ll have sexy Spanish men and bottles of champagne to drown our sorrows in.”

The road in front of you becomes narrower, winding through dense woods, and the familiar scent of pine fills the air.

“That’s it!” You exclaim, sitting up straighter, your heart beating a little faster.

As the camp entrance comes into view, marked by a large wooden sign that reads ‘Camp Logan’, you can’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation. It’s been just under a decade since you were last here, and everything feels exactly the same as you remember.

The car pulls up to the inlet at the start of the woodchip trail leading into the camp. Leaning all the way forward, you embrace your two friends in a long hug, thanking them for dropping you off and cracking up at the almost sombre mood caused by your departure.

Stepping out, you reach for your trunk from the rails on top of the car, pulling it down with ease.

You wave your friends off as they speed away, leaving fading declarations of love as they go. The reality of being on your own sinks in as the dust from their departure settles on the gravel road. You take a deep breath, adjusting your bag on your shoulder, trying to steady the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

The entrance to camp looms ahead, a rustic wooden archway adorned with carvings of pine trees and woodland creatures. The path is just as you remember, lined with tall, towering pines that stretch up into the bright blue sky.

You can hear faint laughter and the distant sound of campers running about, already immersed in their summer adventure. The excitement you felt during the drive here is still there, but it’s now tempered with a hint of anxiety. What if you don’t fit in with the other counsellors? What if the kids are too much to handle?

The doubts creep in, but you shake your head, pushing them away. This is what you’ve been waiting for—a summer of new experiences, challenges, and maybe even that elusive summer romance your friends teased you about.

As you approach the main lodge, you catch sight of a group of counsellors gathered on the porch, laughing and chatting as they prepare for the week ahead. They seem at ease, already forming bonds that you hope to become a part of. You watch them for a moment, taking in the scene, before a voice behind you interrupts your thoughts.

“Hey there, you must be the new arrival!”

You turn to see a tall, athletic guy with sun-kissed skin and a friendly smile walking toward you. He’s wearing a camp T-shirt and cargo shorts, his camp name, “Frosty,” stitched onto his shirt in bold green letters.

It takes your brain a moment to compute that you recognise his face.

Oh, God.

You look up to the sky for a second, sending a silent SOS as the sun shines down on you, leaving you nowhere to escape. You can feel shock flooding through your body, and you’re struggling to even reply.

“Kim Mingyu?”

The man’s eyebrows shoot upwards, and it’s clear you’ve taken him aback too. You stare at other for a moment, before realisation dawns across his features and he lets out a loud laugh, reaching forward to grab your shoulder.

“Oh my god, (Y/n) (Y/l/n)! I should have known you’d be back here! You’re even wearing the same outfit that you used to wear!”

You peer down at your old camp tee, little denim shorts, and hiking boots, your hair twirled with twine and ribbon into two plaits, feeling a little embarrassed that he’d immediately clocked your effort to recreate your camper days.

“Well if it helped you recognise me, then I’m glad I wore it!” You stammer, releasing a nervous laugh. “Would have been awkward if you hadn’t remembered me but I remembered you.”

Mingyu laughs in response, nodding his head, and you’re grateful that the calm, friendly demeanour he had as a kid is still alive and well.

“I’m meant to give you a tour and get you set up, but I suppose you won’t really need it.” He smiles, running a hand through his hair and you can’t help but look at the flex of his biceps as he does.

“Oh – um, I suppose a refresher wouldn’t hurt!”

He nods, and points over to the right side of the clearing. “Okay, well, your cabin is just that one over there, with the three on it. Let me know when you’re all set up and I’ll introduce you to the other counsellors and we can catch up!”

You thank him, and practically sprint away into the cabin.

The wooden cabin of the counsellors is not far different than the camper’s cabins, although notably nicer smelling and less beds. There are three bunks inside, with chests and small side cabinets to keep possessions on. The floor is covered in a green rug, and you can see that two of the other bunks already have unpacked belongings next to them.

You let out a shaky breath, steading your racing mind as you sit down on the empty bed. You can practically hear Emma and Jane laughing at you, and decide that you’d text them the moment you know they’ve landed from their flight.

Kim Mingyu? Seriously? It is like the universe decided to play a cruel joke on you. It’s not like you still have a crush on him, even if he has grown up well, but even the flash from the past has rattled you entirely.

“Alrighty, so over here we have the other lead counsellors – Ace and Fairy. These guys are the ones to find if you need anything; they’ll be far more helpful than me.”

“Hi, I’m (Y/n)!” You greet them, waving.

“Gonna have to get you a camp nickname before the kids hear your actual name and refuse to call you anything else!” The taller person, Ace, jokes. Their short sandy blonde hair is pushed back by a black band, and they sport the same camp t-shirt as Mingyu, with a pair of long khaki cargo pants.

To their side, Fairy stands, giving you a friendly wave back. She, unlike the others, is wearing her camp t-shirt as a bandeau under dungarees shorts that are only strapped on one side.

“That’s a fair point – have you got something in mind or do you want us to give you one?” Mingyu nods thoughtfully.

“Oh, that’s so exciting!” You beam as you look over at Ace and Fairy, still unable to meet Mingyu’s gaze. “I used to love the idea of having a special nickname when I was a kid!”

“I think ‘sunshine’ would do the trick,” Fairy snorts. You feel a blush tickling your neck at the suggestion, and you wonder if your positivity is rubbing off the wrong way.

“We’ll put that one on the maybe list,” Mingyu laughs, holding out a hand to gesture to where you’re walking next.

“Over by the lake are all the kids' cabins. We've got somewhere around 100 campers at the moment, but a few more will join us in the later weeks. Obviously, all the water activities will be done from the dock over there - do you remember what sort of stuff you signed up to run?"

"All of the outdoorsy ones, I think."

"Okay, cool. You'll probably be working with me, Ace, or Hoshi mostly. The counsellor toilets are just round that corner there; they're hidden out of sight so that the kids don't get confused, but you'll need the code to get in anyways. Over there is the mess hall, as you probably remember. Last year they moved a bunch of the arts and crafts stuff into the left wing of the building, so that might be a little different, but the dance, music, and other indoor activities are still in the west building. The admin office, infirmary, and camp store are all in that building over there - you should pop by something today just to say hello to Laura and Maureen - they're super nice but they like to know who's in camp at all times! And finally, all of the sports fields, woodland areas, and the outdoor theatre are over to the east of the lake. You got all that?"

"I think so! It seems mostly the same?" You smile nervously.

Mingyu seems far less concerned about it all. “Great! So, how have you been? It must be almost a decade since I last saw you!”

You feel slightly overwhelmed by trying to catalogue your life over the last few years into a few sentences.

“I’m good!”

That’s a good start.

“I’ll be starting my third year of university in September, and I’m studying geography, but I think I might do teacher training afterwards. I’m not really sure – but, I guess this summer will be a great tester! Um, I took up knitting in June? Oh – and I’m so excited to be back! Can’t wait to be back out on the lake! How about you?”

Good enough.

 “Oh nice – I could definitely see you as a teacher, you always were one of the nicest campers in our cohort.” Mingyu smiles genuinely, and you feel yourself blushing again. “I’ve been a counsellor here for a few years now; I’ve been doing it since I started university. Don’t judge me, but I am studying business – hoping that the camp counsellor label cancels out the bad reputation though!”

You laugh, nodding. “It’s a bit of a stretch, but I think you’ll get away with it.”

“Glad I have your approval,” he chuckles, shooting you a toothy grin. “Here, lets go to the hall and you can meet some of the other counsellors.”

“Where did ‘Frosty’ come from, by the way?” You ask, curious, as you both walk towards the entrance to the mess hall.

Mingyu hums, glancing at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Ah, the infamous nickname story. It’s actually not as cool as you might think,” he begins, pushing open the heavy doors to the hall. The scent of wood, faintly mixed with lingering hints of breakfast, wafts out to greet you.

“It was my first year here as a counsellor. I was super eager to make a good impression, but on the first morning of camp, I didn’t realise just how cold the lake water could be at dawn. So, during the early canoe session, I jumped in to show the kids that it was ‘no big deal’.” He pauses, shaking his head at the memory.

“And?” You prompt, intrigued by the story.

“And I came out so cold that I was shivering, my lips were practically blue, and my skin had turned icy. One of the kids started calling me ‘Frosty’ and the name just stuck. I guess it was better than being called ‘shivers’ or something worse.” He adds with a laugh, his cheeks reddening slightly.

You giggle, imagining the scene. “That’s actually a great origin story. It’s kind of endearing.”

“It’s grown on me.” Mingyu admits.

You both step into the mess hall. The room is spacious, filled with long wooden tables and benches, with large windows on one side letting in the afternoon light. A group of counsellors are gathered near the front, some arranging supplies with others chat animatedly.

As Mingyu leads you over, the chatter quiets down slightly, and all eyes turn to you.

“Alright, everyone, this is (Y/n), our newest counsellor. Be nice and don’t scare them off on their first day,” He teases, and the group chuckles.

One by one, they introduce themselves, each with their own unique nickname story. From what you can remember, there’s Hatter, whose nickname is cryptically based on the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland, Sparks, who’s the go-to guy for anything involving campfires or fireworks, and Gecko, who is in charge of the art station in camp.

“Welcome to the team, (Y/n)!” Sparks says, tipping his baseball cap at you.

“Thanks, everyone! I’m really excited to be here.” You reply, basking in the warm reception.

Mingyu gives you a nod, clearly pleased. “I’ll leave you to get acquainted. Feel free to explore more, just be back for dinner at 6!”

As Mingyu heads off to tend to other duties, the counsellors start to chat to you, sharing stories and giving you tips for surviving your first week. You quickly learn that despite their laid-back appearances, they all share a deep love for the camp and seem as dedicated as you to making it an unforgettable experience for the campers.

“I pitched scuba diving at this year’s council, but it got vetoed.” Hatter grumbles.

Gecko scoffs, crossing her arms. “The only thing interesting in that lake is the random shit that kids throw in – that’s if you can see anything at all.”

“Were you the one that vetoed it?!”

“I suggested creating a camp newspaper,” Sparks interjects, cutting through the bickering. “And since it wasn’t a safety hazard, they decided to include it this year.”

“That’s really cool! And the kids can send them back to their parents to let them know what they've been up to!" You gush, imagining how much fun it would have been to have that option when you were a camper.

"You always get your projects picked!" Hatter sighs, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"First of all, that's not true." Sparks says, rolling his eyes. "And second, mine wasn't the only idea to get picked. Hoshi got his star gazing sessions, remember?"

It dawns on you that you still haven’t met all of the counsellors. The thought must be clear on your face, as Gecko turns to you and asks: “Have you met Hoshi yet?”

You shake your head. “No, I’ve only met you guys, Min – sorry, Frosty, Fairy, and Ace. Are there any other counsellors I haven’t met?” You have to force yourself to use Mingyu’s camp name so that you don’t let his real name slip in front of the kids.

“You haven’t met Old Bill yet, but he’ll be holed up in the music room.” Sparks replies, visibly ticking off names in his head. “And aside from him and Hoshi, the rest are arriving tomorrow.”

"Oh! Speaking of which - Frosty mentioned I should check in with Laura and Maureen, so I might go do that now?" You exclaim, remembering Mingyu’s advice. The group nods and waves as you head off. Feeling good about the other counsellors, your earlier apprehensions fade, leaving you with a growing sense of joy at being back in camp.

That afternoon, you wander over to the main building, making sure to pop into both the infirmary and the head office. At dinner, you sit amongst the kids, starting to get to know their names and faces and hoping to make a good impression in return. You return to your cabin afterwards, fondly thinking about your start to camp. You're sharing your dorm with Gecko and Fairy, and the three of you spent the evening chatting and getting to know each other over a bottle of gin that Fairy had sneaked into camp - which had felt rather scandalous to you.

When you get a chance, you shoot a text off from your flip phone to Emma and Jane, reminding them not to call because you didn’t want to discuss the situation in front of your new cabinmates.

You have to stifle a laugh as you receive their elated replies, and almost block Emma for the R-rated suggestions she leaves in your inbox.

Snuggling down that night, you wonder if you might finally get the second chance you’d dreamed of as a kid.

The next morning, you’re practically bouncing with excitement as you make your way towards the camp’s rope course. The first day of camp is always the best. You’ve been looking forward to getting into the activities ever since you got the job, and climbing was always your favourite as a kid. There’s something about heights, the thrill of adventure, that speaks to the childlike wonder still alive in you.

The sun is already warming the air, but there’s a cool breeze filtering through the pine trees that keeps the camp feeling fresh. You cannot wait to start creating memories with the campers.

As you approach the ropes course, you spot a figure standing near the gear shack, fiddling with a bundle of harnesses. He’s tall, lean, and has a shock of platinum hair that contrasts against the dark forest. As he turns around, you are left a little starstruck by the handsome face that greets you, and you have to remind yourself that you don’t have to crush on every cute person you encounter.

Banishing the thoughts from your mind, you wave energetically. “Hey! You must be Hoshi! I’m (Y/n)! Fairy said that we were co-leaders today!”

He turns to face you, blinking at your sudden burst of enthusiasm and offers a small smile, looking a little surprised. “Oh! Yeah, nice to meet you.” He says a little shyly. “You here to help with the ropes course?”

“Absolutely!” You chirp, extending your hand. “I’m so excited to work with you this summer. I love this kind of thing - clinging, jumping, swinging through the air like a superhero. It's so fun that I get to do it for my first session!"

Hoshi shakes your hand, trying to stifle a laugh at your enthusiasm. "Yeah, it'll be ... interesting. But not everyone's into it, though. Some of the kids can be a little scared at first."

"Don't worry!" You declare, "I'm sure we'll be able to hype them up. They'll be climbing like monkeys by the end of the session!"

You expect a polite laugh or another small smile, but instead, something shifts in Hoshi’s expression. His eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief as he straightens up, looking at you with an almost playful glint.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that.”

Before you can ask what he means, a group of campers starts to arrive, chattering excitedly as they line up near the base of the ropes course.

“Alright, everyone!” you call out, clapping your hands to get their attention. “Who’s ready to have some fun and conquer this ropes course?”

A few kids cheer, while others look a little nervous, shifting their weight from foot to foot as they eye the towering structure ahead of them.

“No worries if you’re feeling a little scared,” you say reassuringly. “It’s totally normal! We’ll go at your pace, and I promise, by the end of it, you’ll feel like Spider-Man swinging through the city.”

The kids giggle, some of them visibly relaxing. You’re about to continue when Hoshi steps forward, a wide grin etching onto his face. "And just to prove it to you all, we're going to start with a little induction ritual for our new camp leader!"

You glance over at him, surprised by the sudden spotlight on you. There’s a challenge in his eyes now, one that wasn’t there before. He adjusts his harness, tightening the straps with quick, practiced movements, and without another word, he leaps up onto the first platform of the ropes course with the agility of someone who’s done it a hundred times.

He glances down, grinning for real now, and holds a hand down to you. "Come on, I'll race you to the top!"

Without waiting for a response, he takes off again, scrambling up a rope ladder with impressive speed. The kids cheer, and suddenly your competitive spirit kicks in.

“Oh, it’s on!” you yell, rushing over to grab a harness and clip yourself in. You barely take a second to check the straps before you’re darting after him, laughing the whole way as the kids below start cheering for you both.

You manage to keep pace with him, climbing and leaping with the same energy that’s always been your signature. Every time you think you’re about to catch up, Hoshi takes another daring leap, swinging across gaps or balancing on the narrowest part of the beams just to show off. There’s a wildness to him that’s completely different from the almost shy guy you met earlier.

By the time you both reach the final platform, breathless but grinning from ear to ear, the kids are cheering so loudly you can barely hear yourself think. Hoshi swings up onto the last platform just a second before you, throwing his hands up in victory as you flop down beside him, laughing.

“Okay, okay, you win,” you gasp, wiping sweat from your forehead.

Hoshi chuckles, leaning back against the railing and catching his breath. "You're pretty fast yourself," he says, nudging your shoulder with his elbow. "I didn't think you'd keep up."

You sit up, grinning widely. "You're just lucky I didn't eat a second breakfast today. Otherwise, I totally would've smoked you."

He laughs again, before peering down at the kids below. "I think we might have to get them strapped up before they start trying to climb the trees themselves."

You nod, finally understanding his plan. The spectacle of the race had taken all of the pressure off of the kids, and had let them see just how safe the course was. It was a trick that you'd have to remember.

Soonyoung watches as you move to the back of the line of kids, crouching down to speak to a young boy at the end. The kid looks nervous, clutching the harness like it’s the only thing keeping him from running back to the safety of the cabin.

He doesn’t know what you say to the boy, but it’s obviously helping as he looks up at you with awe, his hands loosening their grip. You’re offering your hand out to him, and Soonyoung realises that you’re going to go up into the course with him.

He’s manning the guide ropes, and offers you a nod as you look over for confirmation that he’ll be able to manage without you. Now alone at the bottom of the course, his thoughts begin to overwhelm.

The moment you’d run over waving at him this morning, Soonyoung had been flooded with memories. When Mingyu had mentioned last night that the new counsellor was someone they’d both known from camp, he’d never have guessed it would be you.

But you are entirely recognisable. You are just as bubbly and energetic as you were as a kid, running around camp, always surrounded by friends. Soonyoung reminisces over his old camp days, getting stuck on the memory of your first meeting.

It is a week in summer camp, and Soonyoung is having a bad time. His parents insisted on him going; they had assured him that he’d have fun, that he loved the outdoors and he’d make friends quickly enough.

Unfortunately, they are mistaken.

He’s not surprised. He knows he’s shy and meeting new people is never his idea of fun. He was hoping that some extroverted kid may pick him up and carry him into a social group, but that hasn’t happened yet and he’s starting to worry that he’ll have to find a different way.

Soonyoung’s cabin mates are nice enough, but they’ve already formed their own tight-knit group. At night, they talk about things he doesn’t really know about – sports teams, video games, and shared inside jokes.

The worse part is, the camp counsellors are always so cheerful, always asking him how he’s doing, if he’s having fun. He puts on a smile, nods and says it’s all great – what else is he supposed to say?

Soonyoung’s sitting on the edge of the lake on afternoon, his knees pulled up to his chest, staring at the rippling water as a canoe glides by with some laughing campers in it. He picks up a small stone and skips it across the surface, watching it hop once, twice, then disappear into the lake.

“Hey, that was a pretty good skip!”

Soonyoung jumps at the voice, his heart racing as he turns to see a girl standing beside him. You’re wearing a camp t-shirt, your hair tied back in two messy braids, and you’re smiling at him like you’ve known him for years.

“Uh, thanks.” He mumbles, unsure of what else to say. You pick up another rock from beside him, fiddling with it in between your fingers.

“My brother said skipping stones is all about finding the right rock. Here, look at this one!” You present the rock to him – flat, smooth, and lightweight with rounded edges. Flicking the stone with a snap of your wrist, he watches as it skips over the lake three times before dropping down below. You let out a laugh of achievement, and Soonyoung commits the sound to his memory.

“I’m (Y/n), by the way.” You say, plopping down beside him without waiting for an invitation. “I’ve seen you around but haven’t had the chance to say hi yet.”

Soonyoung feels the heat rise to his face. “Oh, um, I’m Kwon Soonyoung.”

You grin, your eyes sparkling with playful energy. “Nice to meet you Soonyoung. A few of the other campers and I are planning on stealing some marshmallows from the kitchen tonight and roasting them over the firepit – do you wanna come?”

He glances over at you, surprised at your offer. You clearly notice his hesitation and offer him a friendly smile, and he cannot help by accept. “Oh, yeah, that would be fun!”

“Okay, great!” You jump up excitedly, and he feels his own spirits lifting in tandem. “Meet us at the kitchen at 7pm.”

He had gone that night, and you’d introduced him to the rest of your friends. Soonyoung fondly remembers that evening, getting to know those campers and watching you laugh and dance around in your own little world.

He hadn’t spoken to you much after that, but he remembers everything. He can admit in hindsight that, by the end of that summer, he’d had a huge crush on you. He was sure you didn’t return those feelings – in fact, he’d heard you gushing to one of the other campers about Mingyu.

Yet, seeing you now, Soonyoung cannot help but feel like he’s been given a second chance. There is a new freedom in knowing that you didn’t remember the past. He could be confident, more daring – everything he wasn’t back then. There is no reason for you to ever associate this version of him with the kid you used to know, and he isn’t about to remind you.

At dinner that night, you find yourself peering back over at the blonde, your mind occupied with questions about him.

You feel like your camper self, looking over at a cute boy that you’re kind of scared to talk to, except this time Kim Mingyu is not the object of your attention. You can actually feel your younger self gawking at you for not taking the chance to flirt with her crush, but for some reason it’s your daring co-leader that is taking up all the space in your mind.

Wow – you think you really are absurd, blushing over a guy you’d met earlier that day. Your friends may have mocked you for your hopeless love life, but they wouldn’t be able to contain themselves if they saw you now.

The rain is coming down outside in a steady drizzle, a soft, rhythmic patter against the cabin roof that creates a cozy, if dreary atmosphere. Some of the campers, having been stuck indoors all afternoon, are grumbling about their ruined evening plans, while others huddle together in the hall, trying to stay entertained.

You glance out of the window, watching the drops streak down the glass as the grey sky darkens into evening. The air inside the cabin feels a little stuffy, and you can tell that everyone needs a pick-me-up, even the other counsellors. That’s when an idea hits you – your trip down memory lane jogging a sweet treat that always lifted your spirits when you were younger.

“Hey, guys!” You call out, clapping your hands together with a grin. A few heads turn your way, curiosity flickering across their faces. “Who’s up for some peppermint hot chocolate?”

“Peppermint hot chocolate?” One of the young girls asks, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“Oh yeah,” you beam, heading toward the small kitchenette. “It’s my special recipe. Guaranteed to make rainy days a hundred times better.”

In the corner of your gaze, you see Mingyu standing up with a large grin, nodding at the kids. “Just what we all need!”

A buzz of excited murmurs spread through the group. Meeting Mingyu’s eyes to express your gratitude for his support, you let everyone know that the hot chocolate should be ready in only a few minutes.

As you gather the ingredients, pulling out the cocoa powder, milk, sugar, and peppermint extract, the chatter in the cabin grows livelier. You’ve been making this recipe for years, ever since you learned it from your grandmother, and it has become your go-to for nights like this.

Just as you get into the rhythm of stirring, you feel someone step beside you. Turning, you see Hoshi leaning casually against the counter, watching you with a small smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he says, glancing around the room. “The kids were about to start climbing the walls.”

“It’s my secret weapon for rainy days.” You reply, glancing at him form over your shoulder. “Peppermint hot chocolate – grandma’s tradition.”

Hoshi chuckles, watching you with a soft gaze. “Secret weapon, huh? I had no idea that you were a hot chocolate expert on top of everything else.”

“Oh, you have no idea the depths of my talent. This hot chocolate is just the tip of the iceberg.”

He raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Is that so? Guess I’ll have to stick around and see what other surprises you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“Oh, trust me, you’re not ready for the full 'Peppermint' experience,” You tease, trying to sound casual, but feeling the heat rising in your face, and you know the cause isn’t the hot chocolate. Was he being... nice? Or is that—no, don’t overthink it, you tell yourself.

Hoshi steps a little closer, peering into the pot as the chocolate mixture begins to bubble. “Looks like you’ve got this down to a science.” He remarks, voice low and teasing.

You shoot him a playful look. “What can I say? I aim to impress. Besides, I figured the campers deserve a little something special after being cooped up all afternoon.”

He smiles now, and for a moment, the teasing falls away. “It’s hard to believe that it’s your first day doing this – you’re good at it. Taking care of the kids. Keeping everyone’s spirits up.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you say, waving a hand dismissively, though the warmth of his words settles in your chest. “I just want them to have fun, you know? The same as all of you guys.”

“I don’t know if you realise it, but you’ve already got most of us hooked. That hot chocolate is just the cherry on top.”

Your breath hitches slightly at his words, and you look up at him, your eyes meeting his. For a moment, the rainy world outside the cabin fades away, leaving just the two of your standing in the warm glow of the kitchen, the pot bubbling gently between you.

You blink rapidly, feeling your cheeks turn even redder. Is he flirting? No way. You are probably just misreading it, like you always do. Right? Surely, he is just being friendly. That’s all.

Before you can spiral any further, you snap back around to the hot chocolate. You quickly ladle a scoop into one of the mugs, spilling a little onto the counter in your haste.

“You’ll be hooked on this when you’ve tasted it!” You chirp, overcorrecting for your nervousness with a panicked cheerfulness.

Giving you a small, lingering smile, Hoshi softly takes the cup from your hands and takes a sip, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Okay, I’ll admit it,” he says, lowering the mug with a grin. “This is really good. You might be onto something with the peppermint.”

You smile sheepishly, feeling a swell of pride but still a little awkward under his gaze. “Thanks. I’m glad you like it.”

“I don’t just like it,” he teases, his voice dropping slightly. “I think you just made my day.”

Your heart feels completely overwhelmed. Is he doing this on purpose? You’re already hopeless at telling friendliness from flirting, and you certainly aren’t used to these little compliments, and it’s all too much for you to handle.

You hand out the rest of the mugs to the campers, avoiding eye contact with Hoshi who stays by your side to help. The kids take them eagerly, sipping their hot chocolate with delighted smiles. The cabin is filled with warmth, not just from the drinks, but from the cozy, cheerful atmosphere that has blossomed despite the rain.

“Hey, this is great hot chocolate!” Mingyu sings as he walks over to your station, half-full cup in hand.

You grin at him, happy for a distraction from the uncertainty standing next to you. “Thanks! The kids seem pretty happy.”

“Totally. You saved the day.” Mingyu praises with an exaggerated sigh of relief. “And, I heard some of the kids calling you ‘peppermint hot chocolate’, so I think – if we shorten it – you may be able to embroider your shirt. ‘Peppermint’ is a pretty cute nickname, all things considered.”

To your side, you think you see Hoshi grimacing for a second, but the expression is quickly wiped from his features.

“It’s a good suggestion.” He says, his tone flatter than it had been earlier.

“I’ll take it! Although if the kids are already calling me it, I suppose I don’t have much choice!” You say cheerfully, feeling your cheeks flushing at the thought. But, you are endeared towards the nickname, and having the campers respect you enough to give you a personalised nickname is pretty special.

By the time you’ve finished talking to Mingyu, Hoshi seems to have disappeared from your side. Even though you feel increasingly nervous around him, a part of you is a little sad that you no longer get to talk with him. But, you have chores to get on with, and 100 mugs aren’t going to clean themselves.

The next two weeks fly past. The camp is alive with the sounds of laughter, shouts and the crackling of campfire, and the days blend together as the campers rotate through their favourite activities.

You’ve spent a lot of time trying to get to know everyone, with a particular focus on your group of campers and the other camp counsellors.

Hoshi and you have still been co-leaders for most of the time, although you’d had a few sessions with Mingyu, Sparks, and one with Gecko. The more time that you spend with Hoshi, the more you are falling deeper into your crush, even if you hate to admit it.

At the start, you’d wondered if the crush was just the product of a new environment, new people, and a lingering suggestion from your friends of a summer romance that latched onto the first cute person you saw. But, if that were true, Mingyu would have been the object of your affections. At this point, you are forced to admit that your crush on Hoshi is more than a matter of convenience. He’s funny, adventurous, and great with the kids, and you have to stop yourself from staring at his face for too long when you’re together.

It’s made it a little harder for you to co-lead with him, but you think you’ve done a pretty good job of hiding your feelings. The last thing you’d want to do is make things awkward for him and the kids, and you’ve had one too many unrequired crushes to make such a rookie mistake as to publicise it.

That evening, after a long day of camp activities, the kids finally settled into their own cabins, the counsellors are left with some well-earned downtime.

You, Gecko, and Fairy pile into your shared cabin, which has quickly become a sanctuary at the end of each hectic day. The cabin is cozy, its wooden walls creaking faintly with the evening breeze that slips through the screen windows.

You flop onto your bed, letting out an exaggerated groan of exhaustion, your limbs spread out like a starfish. “I don’t know about you two, but those kids wore me out today,” you say, dramatically throwing an arm over your eyes. “If I have to get into another canoe, I think I might actually become one with the lake.”

Gecko, who is sitting cross-legged on her bed, leafing through an old camp magazine, snorts. “Yeah, right. You’re like the Energizer Bunny, Peps. I’ve never seen you actually sit still.”

“True!” Fairy pipes in, hoping up onto her bunk and dangling her legs over the edge. “I swear, you were running circles around those kids during the canoe races. I was convinced you were going to tip the boat from sheer excitement.”

You peak out from under your arm, grinning. “Hey, I’m just trying to keep the energy up! These kids need someone to cheer them up!”

"You and Hoshi sure are making it hard for us other counsellors to keep up. My kids came in today asking to have a paint fight because of your antics yesterday." Gecko rolls her eyes, but smiles. "Are we sure you're not secretly still a camper?"

At the mention of Hoshi, you feel a blush creep up your cheeks, though you try and laugh it off. “Please, if you’re going to blame anyone, blame Mingyu – he threw the first brush!”

Fairy smirks, noticing the slight pink tint to your face. She twirls a lock of hair around her finger, her eyes narrowing playfully. “You know, it always catches me off guard when you refer to him as Mingyu.” She begins, her voice dripping with curiosity. “He’s the only counsellor you do that with.”

“I hadn’t realised.” You hum, thinking over her words. “I guess because I’ve known him for so long, it feels weird to not call him Mingyu.”

Gecko and Fairy share a look.

“Sure, but you guys have been spending a lot of time together lately.” Gecko says, raising an eyebrow as she leans back on her hands.

You feel your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Had you?

You’d co-led with Mingyu a couple times over the last few weeks, and spent a bit of time catching up on old memories, but you didn’t think you’d spent any more time with him than any of the other counsellors.

“You think so? I wouldn’t say so.”

“Oh, please,” Fairy scoffs, hopping down from her bunk and plopping onto the bed next to you. “Tell me honestly that there isn’t some history there.”

You blink, flustered. “Oh, well, I guess…” You begin, feeling compelled to tell the truth under their curious gazes. “Okay, well you can’t tell anyone, but I used to have a crush on him when we were campers. Not anymore though!”

You see the pair of them smirk at each other.

“- we’re just friends now. And I wouldn’t want any more. To be honest, I’d be more likely to date Hoshi than Mingyu.” You admit, the blush on your cheeks darkening at your confession.

“Of course! We wouldn’t think any different!” Fairy says in a tone that makes you wonder if she’d actually heard what you just said.

“And it’s totally fine, everyone thinks Mingyu’s hot.” Gecko adds, and you realise that they hadn’t at all heard what you just said.

You sigh, leaning back onto your arms. “I guess.”

Fairy hums out a satisfied tune, moving back onto her bunk. You suppose that it’s still a bit early to emphasise your crush on Hoshi right now, and let the moment pass, hoping that they wouldn’t take it any further in their mistaken understanding of your love life.

Soonyoung is not jealous – he’s determined.

He’s spent the last few weeks trying to keep his cool around you, but it’s hard not to get caught up in everything you are. There’s something magnetic about the way you move through camp, always laughing, always making the kids feel safe and happy. He’s changed so much since you were younger, but you haven’t changed at all.

The issue is – your feelings are an enigma to him. In his eyes, it seems like you’re flirting back with him, laughing at his jokes, placing your hand on his arm, and he’s spotted you looking at him a few times now.

But he’d overheard some campers around the campfire giggling about you and Mingyu and begun to wonder if he’s mistaken your kindness for something greater.

He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable if he’s wrong, especially when you haven’t explicitly given him any signal, but he also doesn’t want to ignore the spark he feels between you.

That night, as the campfire crackles under the stars, the campers roast marshmallows and sing songs under the stars. You’re sat cross-legged on one of the logs, leading a small group of kids in a lively rendition of an old campfire favourite. Your voice is light and playful, if a little off-pitch, and Soonyoung can feel your laughter infecting him as the kids fumble through the lyrics.

He sits back in his seat with a content smile, watching from across the fire. The firelight dances on your face, your hair illuminated in soft, flickering hues.

“Hey, Hoshi!” You call out from across the fire, your eyes gleaming with excitement. “We’re going to have a marshmallow roasting contest. You in?”

He chuckles, standing up and making his way over. “You’re on,” he says, grabbing a stick. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you – I make the perfect golden marshmallow.”

You stick your tongue cutely out at him in mock defiance. “We’ll see about that.”

The campers gather round, joining in and bursting into laughter as Soonyoung’s marshmallow drops into the fire. He can’t find it inside himself to care though, as he watches the delight etch onto your face as you realise his mistake.

As the kids head off to their cabins for the night, you grab his arm, pulling him off to one side.

“Sorry, I know you probably just wanna crash out, but I wanted to ask you something.” You say quietly, with a small, apologetic smile.

Soonyoung’s heart begins to patter, curious and slightly nervous at what you’ll want to know.

“How’d you know that I was a camper here before?”

Ah, shit.

He thinks back to your second day as co-leaders, when he’d let it slip that he knew you went to Camp Logan as a child. The rain had started pouring, cutting off any questions you could have had, and he’d hoped you’d forgotten about it.

“Well, it was only your second day, but you were bounding all over the place like you knew where everything is – and I know Mingyu doesn’t give that in-depth of a tour.” He replies, his tone casual.

“Ahh, I suppose it does make sense. Also-” You poke at your old camp t-shirt that you are still donning. “I guess I fit the stereotype a little.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, you’re not the only person who returned here as an adult.” He laughs, hoping to make you feel better.

Your eyebrows shoot back with curiosity. “Oh, really? Did you come here too?”

Soonyoung realises his mistake. “Oh, uh, I did go to a summer camp as a kid,” he splutters, caught off guard. “But a different one. Not this one.”

You look a little confused for a second, but nod your head in understanding.

Soonyoung lets out a quiet breath, thankful that you didn’t push the subject further. He’s always been good at staying calm, at least outwardly, but right now, standing here with you so close, his heart is doing somersaults. Not to mention, the way that the firelight glows on your face is making it hard for him to focus on anything else.

“So,” you say with a smile. “You promised to tell me the story of your nickname – I haven’t forgotten!”

He lets out a relieved chuckle, glad that the conversation topic has changed.

“Oh, well, technically Hoshi means ‘star’ – I got it because I used to stare at the stars every night when I was a camper,” Soonyoung explains, his voice taking on a nostalgic tone. He glances up at the sky, taking in the faint but twinkling stars. “I guess the other counsellors thought it was funny that I was obsessed with them. I got approved to do some star-gazing sessions this year, though, which is pretty cool.”

You smile, your curiosity piqued. “Wow, I didn’t realise that you were into that, that’s really amazing.”

He grins, eyes flicking back to meet yours. “Yeah, and I kinda like the name now – ‘Hoshi’ sounds cool, right?”

You giggle. “It does suit you. Though I’ll have to keep an eye on you during nighttime hikes, just in case you wander off to stare at the sky.”

Soonyoung laughs, shaking his head. There’s a comfortable pause, the crackling of the fire filling the space between you. The warmth from the flames mirror the warmth in his chest as he stands next to you, but there is something more pulling at him. He can’t help but feel the weight of everything unsaid between you two—the lingering looks, the playful touches, the way your smile always seems a little brighter when it’s directed at him. He needs to know if he’s imagining it.

“Actually,” Soonyoung says, his voice lowering slightly, a playful edge creeping in, “I think there’s something else that suits me.”

You tilt your head. “Oh? What’s that?”

He hesitates for a beat, his eyes locking with yours, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Being around you.” He says, his voice soft but teasing. “I’ve gotta admit, the stars just seem to gleam brighter when you’re around.”

A blush immediately creeps up your neck, and you look away from him for a second, taken off guard.

“You’re shameless.” You stammer, unable to meet his gaze again.

“It’s true – I’ve noticed that the stars just look better when we’re together. Or maybe it’s just because I’m distracted.”

He has to admit that he’s enjoying how flustered you look as you blink at him. “Oh, come on,” you finally reply, “you’re just trying to get out of telling me more embarrassing stories from your camper days.”

Soonyoung chuckles, stepping just a little closer. “Maybe,” he shrugs. “Or maybe I’m telling the truth.”

The space between you suddenly feels much smaller, and he can feel his own heartbeat racing.

You look back over at time, a small smile ghosting across your lips as the firelight reflects from your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he says again, his voice light. “But if it means I get to see you smile like that … then I’ll take it.”

Your smile grows brighter, and Soonyoung wonders if you know that he is telling the truth.

“Well, you have a knack for making me smile.” You respond softly, and it’s his turn to feel bashful. All he can do is nod his head, unable to keep his own lips from quirking up back to you.

At the mid-point of the summer, you can tell that the camp is at a bit of a low. The homesickness has kicked in after weeks away from family, and the other counsellors are struggling to maintain the energy after the exhaustion of endless work.

Thankfully, as you well remember, this has been a recurring problem every year, and one that the camp has provisioned for.

Unlike the general mood, you are rather excited. Mingyu has been organising a camp disco for all of the campers over the last few days, and you can’t wait to see the shine come back to the kids’ faces. But, more than that, the counsellors are having their own little after party once the kids are asleep.

You’ve spent a lot of time with the other counsellors now, and although there haven’t been many chances, you have been able to do some group activities together. But, to have a night to properly relax, kick back, and have a drink whilst the camp manager Laura watches over the kids is going to be a much-needed break. You can almost feel the anticipation buzzing in the air as you and the other counsellors exchange knowing glances throughout the day. Mingyu has been working hard to keep the details of the disco under wraps, and although the kids don’t know it yet, tonight is going to be exactly what they need to shake off the homesickness and recharge for the rest of the summer.

You glance across the campgrounds, catching sight of Hoshi helping some of the kids with a craft project. He’s been quieter the past few days, but you can’t help but notice the way he sneaks glances at you when he thinks you aren’t looking. Since that night by the campfire, when he’d said those words that left you a blushing mess, things have been... different. There’s this undercurrent between you two, subtle but undeniably there.

You feel a little flutter in your chest as you think about it, shaking your head to focus back on the task at hand. Tonight is going to be a good night for everyone, and you’re not about to let your presumptive heart distract you from the fun.

The camp disco is in full swing by the time the sun sets. The kids are bouncing around the hall, glow sticks in hand, dancing to their favourite songs, their earlier gloom forgotten. Mingyu, as expected, has done an amazing job—streamers hang from the ceiling, fairy lights twinkle in the corners, and the DJ (Old Bill) is playing all the right tunes. You smile, watching the kids come alive again, their excitement contagious.

You find yourself swaying to the music, encouraging the shy campers to join in on the dance floor, and before long, the room is full of laughter and energy. It’s working. The mood has completely shifted, and for the first time in days, it feels like the homesickness has melted away.

At one point, you’re pulled into a dance-off with a group of younger campers, their enthusiasm too infectious to refuse. You’re spinning and laughing, barely noticing when Hoshi sidles up next to you.

“You’re showing them up,” he says with a grin.

You stop mid-spin, a little breathless, grinning back at him. “Well, someone has to keep up with them,” you reply, playfully nudging him.

He laughs, and the sound is too quickly carried away by the thrum of the music. Before you get any chance to chat more, one of the campers tugs at your hand, pulling you back into the dance circle.

The night flies by, the disco ending with tired but happy kids heading back to their cabins. You wave them off, thanking Mingyu for organizing everything as you begin to gather with the other counsellors towards the staff cabin.

An hour later, the camp feels almost eerily quiet. The campers are fast asleep, and the counsellors have migrated to the staff cabin, music playing softly in the background, the lights dimmed. You can feel the collective sigh of relief as you and the others sink into chairs, finally able to relax.

Mingyu cracks open a few bottles of wine and passes them around, and the conversation quickly shifts from camp duties to light-hearted banter. Everyone’s unwinding, the exhaustion of the past few weeks melting away with each sip.

Hoshi takes a seat next to you, handing you a glass with a casual smile. "You look like you’re still buzzing from the dance party.”

 “It was fun. You’re a good dancer, you know?” You say sincerely, remembering watching him out with the kids. When he wasn’t twirling the campers around or doing stupid moves to make them laugh, he had truly been a sight to behold – moving perfectly to the rhythm with a groove you hadn’t expected.

“Thanks – you killed it in the dance battle. I think you’re lucky you already have a nickname or they’d start calling you ‘the sprinkler’.”

Your nose crinkles with disgust, and you can hear Hoshi laughing at your expression. “Absolutely not. I hope that never-”

“Hey, Pepper!” You hear from behind you, and you turn to see Fairy waving for you to come over.

You turn back around to Hoshi, giving him an apologetic smile as you move towards your cabinmate.

“What’s up?”

Fairy grins mischievously, patting the spot next to her on the couch. The other counsellors are gathered around, some holding their wine glasses, others lounging in comfortable silence. You sit down beside her, and she wastes no time leaning in conspiratorially.

“We’re starting a game,” she whispers, her eyes sparking with mischief. “You can thank me later.”

You raise an eyebrow, confused at her meaning. “Huh? What kind of game?”

Before Fairy can answer, Mingyu appears, plopping down on the other side of you with a bottle of wine in hand. “We’re playing ‘Truth or Drink’” he announces with a grin. “Or, as I like to call it, exposing everyone’s secrets while we’re too tired to care.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Wow, I think we played this when we were campers.”

Fairy nods, smirking. “He’s just trying to get out of answering questions.”

“Oh, no. I’m an open book,” Mingyu teases, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head. “But you—” he gestures toward you—“I bet you have some juicy secrets.”

Fairy claps her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. “Alright, let’s get started! We’ll go in a circle. Truth or drink. If you don’t wanna answer, you take a drink.”

The game kicks off with the usual light-hearted questions. The counsellors take turns asking things like, ‘What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to you at camp?’ and ‘what’s the weirdest thing you’ve seen a camper do?’ Laughter echoes through the cabin as the group shares funny stories. Your gaze catches on Hoshi, sitting across from you, as he animatedly retells a story about the time that he ran a 100m sprint whilst drunk.

A little way into the game, Fairy turns toward you, a look that puts you on edge in her eye. “Okay, Pepper, this one’s for you.”

“Go on…”

She leans forward, her voice lowering to make the moment feel more dramatic. “Have you ever had a crush on anyone here?”

The group immediately bursts into giggles, all eyes turning toward you. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks from the attention. You cannot believe that she’s just asked you that.

You let out a soft groan, covering your face with your hands for a moment. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“Come on,” Mingyu says, nudging you with his elbow. “You can’t back out now!”

Looking back at Mingyu, you realise you have a choice. Admit to your childhood crush on him, admit to your current crush on Hoshi, or drink and let everyone realise that you do in fact like someone. The answer seems obvious to you – you didn’t like Mingyu anymore so admitting to that crush would be embarrassing but you could get over it.

You peek out from behind your fingers, letting out a flustered laugh. “Alright, alright!” You take a deep breath, deciding to just go with it. “When I was younger… I used to have the biggest crush on Mingyu.”

The room goes silent for a beat before erupting into laughter. Mingyu’s eyes widen, clearly not expecting that answer, while the others start whooping and teasing him.

As the laughter from your confession settles, you glance around the circle, catching a glimpse of Hoshi sitting quietly across the room. His playful grin is still there, but something in his eyes has changed. It's subtle, but the usual lighthearted sparkle has dimmed just a little, and his posture seems more tense than relaxed. You blink, wondering if you’re imagining it, but you can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.

Meanwhile, the other counsellors are still buzzing with excitement over your confession. Mingyu, clearly enjoying the attention, leans back with an exaggerated smirk.

“So, Peps,” he teases, his grin wide, “I guess I was your first camp crush, huh? Man, that’s a big responsibility.”

You roll your eyes, laughing. “Don’t flatter yourself too much. I was, like, twelve. It doesn’t even count.”

Fairy chimes in, giving you a sly look. “I dunno, you two always seem pretty close. Are you sure you’re over him?”

You’re about to respond, to brush off the teasing, but before you can say anything, Hoshi speaks up from across the room, his voice a little sharper than usual. “Come on, Fairy – she said it was ages ago. We don’t need to interrogate her.”

You blink, surprised by his tone. The group falls silent for a beat, and you can feel a shift in the room, the playful banter suddenly feeling a little heavier.

Mingyu, ever oblivious, laughs and holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. No more teasing. Pepper, your secret’s safe with me.”

But as the conversation moves on, you can’t help but glance over at Soonyoung again. His jaw is tight, and while he’s pretending to be engaged in the new topic, you sense his mood is off from his usual demeanour.

After a few more rounds of the game, the atmosphere goes back to normal – aided by a very funny impression of Hatter by Sparks.

“Alright, my turn to ask.” Sparks grins, looking around the circle like a predator looking for prey. Sparks’ gaze lands on Hoshi, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Alright, Hoshi—no dodging this one. Truth or drink?"

Hoshi raises an eyebrow, smirking but clearly unfazed. "Truth. Hit me with your best shot."

Sparks grins wider. "Alright, Soonyoung, tell us… what’s something from your camper days that none of us know?"

The moment the name "Soonyoung" leaves Sparks’ lips, you feel a jolt. Soonyoung? Why does that sound so familiar? The name echoes in your head, and suddenly, it hits you like a wave crashing onto the shore.

Soonyoung.

You stare at Hoshi – no, Soonyoung – wide-eyed, your heart skipping a beat as the realisation sets in. He was at camp before. Not just any camp, but this camp. And you knew him – that shy boy from all those summers ago.

Your breath catches in your throat as the pieces click into place. You’d spent all these weeks with him, not realizing he was that Soonyoung. He’s changed so much—more confident, more playful—but there’s no mistaking it now.

Soonyoung’s gaze flickers, meeting yours for just a moment too long before he looks away, his expression shifting. His smile vanishes, replaced with something more guarded—something that makes your heart twist. You’re on the verge of saying something, of asking him, why didn’t you tell me?, when he clears his throat, breaking the eye contact as quickly as it happened.

“Uh yeah,” he says, his voice more subdued. He forces a laugh, but is sounds hollow. “There’s nothing too exciting – one time, I accidently called the counsellor ‘mom’ in front of the whole group. That was pretty hard to live down.”

The other counsellors chuckle, buying into his casual response, but you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

Minutes pass, and every time you try to say something, to bring it up, he’s conveniently out of reach—answering a question from Fairy, joking with Mingyu, or pouring another drink for Sparks.

The atmosphere in the room returns to normal, everyone laughing and enjoying the game, but you’re stuck. Your thoughts are racing, replaying memories from your time at camp, piecing together everything you now know about him. You want to ask him why he never said anything, why he’s been keeping this hidden when you could’ve shared stories, laughed about the past. But more than that, you can’t shake the hurt—the feeling that maybe he didn’t want you to remember him at all.

Finally, as the game winds down and people start to leave the cabin, you seize the chance to approach him. You wait until the others are distracted, your heart pounding as you take a step toward him, your mind already formulating the questions you need answered.

"Soonyoung," you begin quietly, your voice just loud enough to catch his attention.

He looks at you, but the guarded expression is back, like a shield between you. He doesn’t give you time to say anything more.

"Hey, I think I’m gonna head to bed," he says abruptly, cutting you off before you can even start. He glances around the room, avoiding your eyes again. "It’s been a long day, you know?”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. You watch, frozen, as he turns away, leaving you standing there with a knot in your chest. He slips out of the cabin before you can say another word, disappearing into the night without looking back.

The drunken chatter in the cabin isn’t making Soonyoung feel any better. Mingyu and Sparks had stumbled back together, laughing and swaying and not giving him any time to work out what just happened.

His head is a blur of emotions – scared that you now know the truth, sad at the look you were giving him, embarrassed of the past, and a little jealous of Mingyu.

Soonyoung leans against the wall, arms crossed tightly as Mingyu and Sparks collapse onto the bed in a fit of drunken laughter. He tries to smile, to act like everything is fine, but his thoughts keep spiralling. His heart hasn’t stopped racing since Sparks let his name slip, and now, every time he thinks of the look on your face, that wide-eyed realization, it twists the knot in his chest a little tighter.

You know. You finally know who he really is, and he has no idea what to do with that.

“So, (Y/n) really had a crush on me, huh?” Mingyu says, grinning as he pulls off his shoes and tosses them into the corner. “I mean, I knew I was charming, but I didn’t realise I was that charming.”

Sparks laughs, kicking his legs up onto his bunk. “Dude, she admitted it in front of everyone. You’re lucky we didn’t start calling you ‘Pepper’s new boyfriend’ right there.”

Soonyoung’s jaw tightens, and he stares down at his hands. He doesn’t want to listen to this. He really doesn’t want to hear Mingyu, who’s been hovering around you for weeks, talking about your confession, as if it’s still a big deal, as if it’s more than just an innocent childhood crush.

But Mingyu keeps going, his voice full of amusement. “Man, I should’ve paid more attention back then. I didn’t even realize she was crushing on me when we were kids. Can you imagine if I’d noticed?”

Sparks snorts, shaking his head. “You probably would’ve been too clueless to do anything about it.”

Mingyu shrugs, laughing. “Maybe. But hey, it’s not too late, right?”

Soonyoung feels his chest tighten. The words hit him like a punch, even though Mingyu is clearly joking. The easy way he talks about you, as if he could just turn on the charm and pick up where your old feelings left off, makes Soonyoung’s blood boil.

“Maybe you should try,” Sparks says, grinning. “Pepper is cool. You guys would make a cute couple.”

He wants to say something—anything—to stop this conversation from going any further, but he can’t. His throat feels tight, and his thoughts are all over the place, tangled in confusion and frustration.

Mingyu laughs again, the sound light and careless. “Nah, I’m just messing around. We’re good friends. But still, it’s kinda funny, right? Me and (Y/n). Who would’ve thought?”

“Can we drop it?” His voice is sharper than he intends, cutting through the laughter. Both Mingyu and Sparks go quiet, turning to look at him in surprise.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, clearly confused. “What’s up with you, man? We’re just joking around.”

Soonyoung swallows hard, trying to keep his voice steady. “I know. But can we just… not?”

Sparks glances between the two of them, sensing the tension but not quite understanding it. “Dude, relax. It’s not that serious.”

But it is serious, at least to him. He can feel the weight of everything pressing down on him—your confession, the truth about his past, the way you looked at him earlier when you figured out who he really was.

Mingyu narrows his eyes slightly, finally starting to catch on that something’s bothering Soonyoung. “Okay… what’s going on with you?”

Soonyoung exhales, leaning back against the wall, his heart still pounding. He doesn’t want to have this conversation. Not with Mingyu. Not when he’s still trying to sort through his own feelings, his jealousy, his fear that maybe he’s already too late.

“Nothing,” Soonyoung mutters, his voice tight. “Just tired. I’m heading to bed.”

Without waiting for a response, he pushes himself up from his bunk and heads for the door, needing to get out of there.

As the door closes behind him, he hears Mingyu say something to Sparks, his voice lower now so that Soonyoung cannot hear what he’s saying.

“You think he’s jealous?” Sparks asks, half-joking but with a hint of seriousness.

Mingyu chuckles softly, but there’s an edge to his tone. “Maybe.”

Soonyoung grits his teeth as he steps into the cool night air, the quiet of the campgrounds a stark contrast to the noise in his head. He doesn’t want to be jealous, but he can’t help it. It’s eating at him, the way Mingyu talks about you so casually, like he has the right to claim a piece of your past, like it wouldn’t be that hard for him to step into your present.

And all Soonyoung can think is that he’s been hiding behind Hoshi for so long, afraid to show you who he really is, that he might’ve lost his chance before he ever truly had it.

The problem with being known as the bubbly, energetic counsellor is that it’s immediately obvious to everyone when you are not feeling bubbly or energetic.

You’ve tried to keep your energy up and you’re still having a lot of fun with your group, but its hard when half of your mind is filled with unanswered questions. And it doesn’t help that the only person that can answer them is avoiding you entirely.

Having had a bit of time to think about it, you are still entirely confused about the situation. You don’t understand why Soonyoung hid your shared past from you, you don’t understand why he’s ignoring you now, and you don’t understand why not talking to him is making you feel so bad (okay, maybe you do understand that one).

You’re not used to feeling like this—so off balance. Normally, you’re the one with the infectious energy, always the first to lift everyone’s spirits. But now? Now it’s hard to keep up the act. The kids don’t notice, thankfully. They’re still having fun, still looking to you for guidance, but the other counsellors have started to pick up on it.

“Hey, Pepper,” Gecko says one evening, sidling up next to you while you sit on a bench outside our shared cabin. “You okay? You’ve been kinda… off lately.”

You force a smile, even though your heart isn’t in it. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired, I guess.”

Gecko raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Sure. And I’m a unicorn.”

You huff out a laugh despite yourself, grateful for the attempt to lighten the mood. “I don’t know. It’s just been a weird few days.”

Gecko nods, leaning back against the bench. “Anything to do with Hoshi?” she asks, her tone casual but probing.

You blink, startled by the directness of the question. “What? No, why would—”

“Oh, come on,” Gecko interrupts, giving you a knowing look. “It’s obvious something’s going on between you two. He’s been acting weird, and you’ve been all mopey. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

You bite your lip, unsure of how to respond. Part of you wants to spill everything—to tell Gecko about Soonyoung, about the past, about the way he’s been avoiding you—but another part of you feels too raw, too exposed to talk about it yet. So instead, you just shrug.

“I don’t know. We just… haven’t really talked lately.”

Gecko snorts. “Yeah, no kidding. He’s been avoiding you like you’ve got the plague or something.”

The words sting, even though you already know they’re true. You don’t say anything, just stare down at the ground, your mind racing with everything you haven’t been able to figure out.

Gecko seems to sense that you’re not ready to talk, because she nudges your shoulder gently and stands up. “Well, if you want to vent or throw pinecones at him or something, let me know. I’ll back you up.”

You manage a small smile as she walks away, but the moment she’s gone, the weight of everything comes crashing back down.

By the end of the week, your patience has worn thin. Soonyoung is frustratingly good at avoiding you. Every time you try to approach him, he slips away, always just out of reach. It’s almost like a game, except there’s nothing fun about it.

You watch him across the campfire one evening, the flames casting flickering shadows on his face. He’s laughing with the other counsellors, his expression as lighthearted as ever, and you don’t know how he’s so unbothered. It makes you want to scream.

You don’t know what to do, but you do know what you normally would do when you feel like this – who you’d normally talk to.

That night, you find a snug space in the mess hall after everyone else had gone to bed. Typing the familiar number into your phone, you hear the brief ringing before the twin voices of your best friends ring out through the tinny speakers.

“(Y/n)!” Emma’s voice is the first to break through. “What’s up? You never call this late. Everything okay?”

Jane’s voice follows immediately after. “Yeah, it’s gotta be past midnight over there. What’s going on?”

You let out a sigh, leaning back against the wall of the hall and twirl a strand of your hair between your fingers. You don’t even know where to begin, but you know you need to talk to them. If anyone can help you sort through this mess, it’s Emma and Jane.

“Hey, guys,” you say, your voice quieter than usual. “I’m… I’m just feeling a little off, I guess. Camp’s great, but there’s this... thing.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line before Emma pipes up. “Ooh, sounds like someone’s got boy drama.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, even though a smile pulls at your lips. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, but it totally is,” Jane interjects. “I can hear it in your voice. You sound all conflicted and mopey like the time that Joshua Hong rejected you in freshman year. Spill, (Y/n). What’s going on? Is it about Mingyu?”

You bite your lip, unsure of how to explain everything without sounding completely ridiculous. You hadn’t let slip about your feelings towards Soonyoung on any of your previous calls, even if you had mentioned him before. “No, it’s about someone else - my co-leader, Soonyoung.”

You can hear your friends cooing through the phone.

“It turns out we were campers here together when we were kids, and he just didn’t tell me. Now that I’ve figured it out, he’s avoiding me, and I don’t know why.”

“So… wait,” Emma says slowly, as if piecing it all together. “You knew him when you were kids, but he didn’t tell you who he really was until now?”

“Exactly,” you sigh. “I didn’t remember because he’s so different now – I mean he looks different, and he used to by really shy - but now that I know, he’s been dodging me. Every time I try to talk to him, he slips away. It’s like he doesn’t want me to know the truth.”

Jane’s voice is thoughtful when she finally speaks. “Okay, so let’s break this down. Why do you think he didn’t tell you?”

You shrug, even though they can’t see you. “I don’t know. Maybe he thought it didn’t matter, or he didn’t want to dredge up old memories.”

“Or maybe,” Emma chimes in, “he thought it would change how you saw him.”

You blink, taken aback. “Why would it change anything?”

“Because he’s not the same person anymore,” Emma says matter-of-factly. “He’s confident and outgoing now, right? Maybe he’s worried you’ll only see him as the shy kid you remember instead of who he is now.”

That thought hadn��t even crossed your mind, and you let it settle for a moment. Soonyoung was so sure of himself now, but was there a part of him that was still afraid of being that quiet, overlooked kid?

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain why he’s avoiding me now,” you say. “I just want to talk to him and clear the air, but he won’t give me the chance.”

Jane speaks up this time, her voice firm. “Well, then you’ve got to stop waiting for him to come around. You’ve got to force him to talk to you.”

“Force him?” you ask, feeling a bit unsure. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“Not literally drag him by the collar or anything,” Jane says, laughing softly. “But you need to be direct. If he’s not coming to you, then you go to him. Corner him somewhere he can’t run away. He obviously has something he’s not saying, and the only way you’re going to get answers is if you stop giving him the option to avoid you.”

Emma agrees immediately. “Yeah, if he’s not going to be brave enough to face it, you’ve gotta take the lead. You’re (Y/n), for crying out loud. You’ve never been one to back down from a tough conversation.”

You chew on your lip, their advice sinking in. They’re right. You’ve been waiting, hoping that Soonyoung would come to you, that he would explain himself. But that’s not going to happen. If you want answers, if you want to figure out why he’s been avoiding you and what’s really going on, you’ll have to be the one to confront him.

But the thought of it makes your heart race. “What if he’s just avoiding me because… I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t want to be friends anymore?”

Jane’s laugh is sharp and confident. “If he didn’t want to be around you, he wouldn’t be this weird about it. He’d just be distant and chill. This sounds more like he’s scared or confused. You’ve got to talk to him.”

Emma’s voice softens, more serious now. “Look, the worst thing you can do is leave things unsaid. You’ll drive yourself crazy overthinking it. So just corner him somewhere, ask him straight-up what’s going on, and don’t let him avoid the conversation.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of anxiety and determination settle over you.

“Okay,” you say, nodding to yourself. “You’re right. I’m going to talk to him.”

“Damn right you are,” Jane says, her voice filled with pride. “And, oh my god, can we just quickly mention that I was totally right about your summer romance.”

You choke out a laugh, your head falling back. “Don’t forget that he currently won’t speak to me, let alone actually like me back.”

Emma scoffs, booing down the phone. “Nuh, uh. I don’t want to hear that negative speak. You’re going to find that boy, force him to talk to you, and then jump his bones – I can feel it in the air.”

“Okay, I’m going to hang up now.” You crack up, unable to contain the joy from chatting with your best friends again. Despite Emma’s proclivity for vulgarity, you can’t help but feel a sense of home radiating from the phone.

In spite of your threat, you do actually want to hear about how your friends are doing, what they’re up to now that they’re home from their holiday. You spend the next hour or so chatting, laughing, and feeling a whole lot more like yourself again.

The first rumble of thunder that afternoon had been distant, barely a low grumble on the horizon as the campers gathered in the west building for their activities. By the time that dinner started, the sky has darkened dramatically, thick clouds rolling in like a blanket over the campgrounds. A sudden gust of wind sends the trees swaying, and the smell of rain is heavy in the air.

You have been leading a group of campers in a silly skit, testing their acting abilities with some bastardised version of Shakespeare. Their laughter bubbles through the room as the first flash of lightning streaks across the sky. The crack of thunder that follows seems to shake the whole camp and, just like that, the power flickers out.

The mess hall is plunged into darkness, the only light coming from a faint glow of the evening storm outside. A collective gasp goes up through the room, and the campers freeze, their eyes wide as they look around in fear.

“Alright, guys, no big deal!” You hear Mingyu’s voice call out from across the other side of the hall. “The power’s just taking a little break.”

A second bolt of lightning lit up the hall, and the windows rattled with the booming thunder that followed. This time, a few of the younger kids whimper, and one of the older ones calls out, “What if the storm gets worse? What if we’re stuck here?”

You feel a flicker of doubt, but before you can speak, a familiar voice cuts through the nervous chatter.

“Hey, come on, guys. This isn’t a storm – it’s an adventure.”

Soonyoung strides to the front of the room, his expression completely unbothered, his signature grin firmly in place. Even in the dim light, there is a calmness radiating from him that instantly shifts the mood. He rubs his hands together, as if gearing up for some grand plan. “You’ve all seen movies, right? Power goes out, storm rolls in… that’s when the real fun starts.”

A few campers exchange glances, clearly intrigued, and you feel a wave of relief as the attention shifted from fear to curiosity.

“And what we’re going to do,” Sparks jumps in, joining Soonyoung at the front. “Is make this the most epic camp night ever. No electricity? No problem. That just means we get to tell the best stories.”

As the kids begin to chat between themselves, a spark of excitement now overtaking the room, you gather with the other counsellors to work out a plan.

“Fairy and I will go and get some torches and candles, make a nice cozy atmosphere while we’re waiting for the power to come back.” Mingyu suggests.

“Great, and I can lead a story time, get the kids distracted.” Sparks adds, and Hatter nods in agreement.

Mingyu’s brows furrow for a moment, looking around the room. “We should probably get Old Bill to go check the breakers, see if we can turn the power on.”

“Oh, no need, I can go check them!” You say with a cheerful grin, wanting to be as helpful as you can.

“Are you sure?” Mingyu checks with a frown. “Maybe someone else should go with you.”

“Soonyoung should go.” Gecko pipes in, and you see her giving you a look in your peripheral vision.

Soonyoung hesitates for a moment, before nodding.

“Okay, cool, and Gecko and Ace can work on some snacks and drinks for everyone?”

As everyone agrees to the plan, you feel a sense of opportunity. Soonyoung is going to talk to you tonight, whether he likes it or not.

The loud bangs and rustling of the storm prevents you from any conversation on the way to the breaker room, leaving you filled with tension as you slam the metal door shut behind you. Soonyoung is in front of you, flicking on the battery-powered lights in the room as you lock the door.

He glances around at you for a second, before turning back to the breakers. “So, I guess we just switch them off and on and see what happens?”

The dim light in the breaker room flickers overhead as Soonyoung turns his attention to the row of switches. You watch him quietly, your heart racing—not from fear of the storm, but from the sheer weight of everything you’ve been wanting to say to him.

For a few moments, neither of you speaks. The distant rumble of thunder fills the silence between you, and the occasional burst of lightning lights up the small, cramped room. Soonyoung seems entirely focused on the breakers, flipping one switch after another, as if the problem at hand is just the electrical outage and not the unspoken tension hanging thick in the air.

“Soonyoung.” Your voice comes out a little sharper than you intended, but it gets his attention. He freezes for a second before turning to face you, his expression guarded.

“Yeah?” He asks, his tone too casual.

You cross your arms, feeling the frustration you’ve been bottling up for days bubbling to the surface. “We need to talk.”

He glances back to the breakers, clearing trying to avoid your gaze. “About what? The power should be back on in a few minutes.”

You step closer, not letting him dodge the conversation this time. “Not about the power. About you avoiding me. About why you didn’t tell me who you were.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “This really isn’t the best time-”

“No,” You cut him off, your voice firm. “It is the best time. You’ve been avoiding me for days, and I’m tired of pretending like nothing’s wrong. I want to know why you didn’t tell me. And why you’re acting like … like you don’t even want to know me anymore.”

Soonyoung finally turns to face you fully, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes – guilt, maybe, or regret. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, the silence stretching out as the storm rages outside.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it mattered,” he says at last, his voice low. “Back then … I was different. I wasn’t like I am now, and I didn’t want you to think of me as that shy kid from all those summers ago.”

You stare at him, processing his words. “So you just pretended we didn’t know each other?”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. “No, it’s not that. I didn’t think you’d remember me. I barely talked to anyone back then, and I figured it didn’t matter.”

You feel a pang in your chest at his words, at the thought of him feeling like he had to hide part of himself from you. “But I did remember you, eventually. And when I did, you started avoiding me. Why, Soonyoung?”

He flinches at the sound of his name. His jaw tightens, and for a second, you think he’s going to deflect again, but then he takes a deep breath. “Because I was scared,” he admits quietly, his eyes meeting yours. “I didn’t want that version of me to affect how you see me now. I’ve changed, and I didn’t want to mess up whatever this is by dredging up the past.”

“So you thought that hiding it was better?” You ask softly.

“I thought it was easier.” He corrects. “But clearly, I was wrong.”

The frustration that had been simmering in your chest starts to ebb, replaced by something else—something softer, more understanding.

“You know,” you begin, your voice gentler now. “I love how fun and adventurous you are, how you’re so great with the campers and that I can never predict what you’re going to do next. But I liked that kid too. Sure, he was quiet at first, but I thought he was really funny and sweet when I got to know him.”

You move forward, feeling a surge of confidence in the dim light of the breaker room. You feel your hand reaching out to grab his, and his fingers are smooth and warm under your grasp. He looks a little taken aback at first, but then his grip tightens around your hand and you feel your heart beat rising. “I don’t just want to know one side of you, Soonyoung. I want to know all your sides, but you didn’t even give me the chance to figure that out because you kept pushing me away.”

He looks down at the floor, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I didn’t mean to push you away,” he mutters. “I just … I didn’t know what else to do.”

He looks impossibly pretty under the dim light, his hair hanging in front of his eyes, wet from the rain. His lips are slightly ajar, and you can tell his breathing is slightly ragged from how close you are standing.

“What are you so scared of?” Your voice is the quietest it’s ever been, the question coming out as little more than a whisper. You can feel his fingers flex away from yours for a second, before renewing their grip on your hand.

“I’m scared that I’m the only one feeling this,” He responds, his voice just as quiet. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you’re certain he must be able to hear it. “I thought – I don’t know, maybe you did too, but then I saw you talking to Mingyu and I wondered if it was better to just keep my distance.”

“Mingyu?” You blink, startled by the confession. “What about him?”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, and you can see the vulnerability there. “Come on, (Y/n). Everyone else can see it, even the kids. You even admitted it at the party, and I knew I had no hope then.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the weight of his words settling over you like the storm outside. You open your mouth to respond, tell him he’s wrong, but the power suddenly flickers back on, the lights buzzing to life around you.

The sudden brightness makes you blink, and in that split second, Soonyoung turns back to the breaker box, flipping the last few switches into place as if nothing had happened.

“Well, the power’s back,” he says, his tone abruptly casual again. “We should probably get back to the others.”

Your heart sinks. The moment is gone, and Soonyoung is already slipping away again. You want to stop him, to make him face everything he just said, but the door to the breaker room creaks open, and Mingyu’s voice echoes down the hallway.

“You guys good in there? Power’s back on, thank god!”

Soonyoung doesn’t even glance at you before he heads toward the door. “Yeah, we’re good. Just flipping switches.”

You stand there for a moment, watching him walk away, your mind swirling. And as the storm rumbles outside, you realise that this conversation is far from over.

Soonyoung leans against the stack of crates in the activity shed, trying to look busy, but all he can focus on is the knot in his stomach. The conversation in the breaker room with you, the almost-confession, the avoidance – it all keeps replaying in his head, and none of it makes sense to him anymore.

He knows he should talk to you, that much is clear. But what’s the point? You’ve got Mingyu, haven’t you? The way you laugh with him, how comfortable you are around him. If he had to admit it, that’s why he’s been holding back all this time—because deep down, Soonyoung’s afraid he’s already too late.

The door to the shed swings open, and sure enough, Mingyu steps in, looking for something on the selves. Soonyoung tense, inwardly groaning. This is the last person he wants to see right now.

Mingyu, oblivious to the turmoil brewing inside Soonyoung, grabs a soccer ball from one of the shelves and tosses it in the air. “Oh, hey! You good, man?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “Yeah, fine.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Really? Because you’ve been avoiding me for the last few days, and (Y/n) for like two weeks. What’s going on?”

Soonyoung’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t want to have this conversation. Not with Mingyu. But the frustration is bubbling up, and before he can stop himself, the words slip out. “What’s the point, huh? You and her… it’s pretty obvious.”

Mingyu catches the soccer ball mid-toss, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

“You and (Y/n),” Soonyoung mutters, running a hand through his hair, avoiding Mingyu’s gaze. “It’s clear you two like each other. I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

For a second, there’s silence. Then, Mingyu lets out a laugh—an actual, full-blown laugh, so loud and sudden that Soonyoung jerks his head up in surprise.

“What?” Soonyoung snaps, his frustration rising. “What’s so funny?”

Mingyu shakes his head, still chuckling as he sets the soccer ball aside. “Dude, are you serious? You think me and (Y/n) are into each other?”

Soonyoung blinks, completely caught off guard by Mingyu’s reaction. “Well… yeah. I mean, you’re always together. She used to have a crush on you, and it’s pretty obvious you guys get along.”

Mingyu sighs, running a hand over his face, as if trying to figure out how to explain this to a five-year-old. “Okay, first of all, that was years ago. She had a crush on me when we were kids. And second, (Y/n) and I are just friends, man. There’s nothing going on between us.”

Soonyoung stares at him, still trying to wrap his head around what Mingyu’s saying. “But… I’ve seen the way you two are. She’s always smiling around you.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because we’re friends, and she’s a friendly person. But that doesn’t mean she has feelings for me. Trust me, dude, if she liked me like that, I’d know. And I don’t know, because it’s not happening. If anything, she’s been trying to figure out what’s up with you.”

Soonyoung’s chest tightens at those words. All this time, he’s been avoiding you because he thought he didn’t stand a chance, when in reality, he was the one making things complicated.

“Look,” Mingyu says, his tone softer now. “(Y/n) likes you. I don’t know how else to say it. That fact that you don’t know it already is crazy to me, but apparently you don’t. And as your friend, I have to tell you that if you keep acting like this you’re going to ruin your chances.”

Soonyoung lets that sink in for a moment, his thoughts spinning. He feels like an idiot. All this time, he’d assumed the worst, convinced himself that you and Mingyu were something more, when in reality, he’d just been too scared to face his own feelings.

Mingyu pats him on the shoulder. “You’ve gotta stop running. Go talk to her. Be honest. Otherwise, you’re going to lose her before you even get the chance.”

Soonyoung lets out a deep breath, feeling the weight of his mistake settle over him. He knows now that there’s only one thing left to do. He has to find you, talk to you and explain everything.

Soonyoung’s practically sprinting through the camp trying to find you. There’s an air of desperation from Mingyu’s warning, and he feels like if he doesn’t solve this now then you’ll never forgive him. He can feel eyes slowly turning towards him as he skates through the campfire area towards the mess hall.

He’s got one mission. He needs to tell you the truth, even if you reject him and tell him to never speak to you again. It’s not Soonyoung’s style to not take the risk, and he needs to stop reverting back into someone he’s not anymore.

The large expanse of mess hall is full of people, whose gaze all turns on him as he slams open the large wooden doors, but you aren’t there. He takes a second to scan the room once more, feeling slightly crazed, before running through to the kitchenette.

He’s already checked the main and west buildings, and if you’re not here then that means you can only be out in the forest or in your cabin. He’s debating whether going into your cabin would be over the line as he steps back out towards the mess hall doors.

“Hosh, you alright-”

“Sorry, no time!” He cuts off Sparks’ questioning, making a mental note to explain later. He practically stumbles as he barrels back outside. His heart is racing, his pulse pounding in his ears, and all he can think about is finding you. He has no idea what he’ll say, but he knows he can’t let you keep thinking he doesn’t care, that he’s been avoiding you out of anything other than fear and his own stupidity.

The air outside is thick with humidity after the storm, the ground still wet beneath his feet. He jogs toward your cabin, his thoughts swirling. If you’re not in there, if you’re somewhere in the forest, he’ll search every inch of camp until he finds you.

And then he sees you.

His throat feels like it closes as you appear in the distance, and his feet falter.

But even as he hesitates, you’re moving closer, practically marching towards him. He can now see that you’ve got this determined look on your face that is making your cheeks puff up in such an endearing way.

“Kwon Soonyoung!” You yell, your voice even firmer than when you’re scolding one of the campers.

He gulps his fear down, willing his feet to start moving again. “(Y/n)…” He calls back, sounding far less confident than he intended.

And then you’re in front of him, an accusing finger pointed at his chest and reddened cheeks betraying your frustration. You seem so angry at him, but it’s the complete opposite of your normal character and he thinks that it makes you look so cute. “This needs to stop, right now. You need to tell me the truth, because I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s completely ruining my mood. I don’t know what delusional story you’ve thought up about Mingyu and I, but it’s not true, and you’re using it to dodge your own feelings. I won’t take one more day of this-”

Soonyoung reaches out to push your hair out of your eyes, his hands lingering on the sides of your face. He completely interrupts your rant, causing you to freeze. Your eyes are wider than he thought was physically possible, lips still parted in a half-finished sentence.

The moment is here now, and he’s going to be brave. “I like you, (Y/n), much more than as friends.”

A small gasp leaves you.

“I’ve thought that you were the best person I’d ever met since we were kids,” Soonyoung continues, his voice shaking slightly but his determination unwavering. “Back then, I didn’t have the guts to tell you, and when we reconnected here, I told myself I’d do it different. I told myself I’d be confident, but … I messed it up.”

He takes a deep breath, gathering the courage to continue. “I’ve been scared stupid that if I told you how I felt, I’d ruin everything between us. And then I was jealous about something that wasn’t even true.”

You blink, your hand reaching up to cover his own. “Soonyoung…”

“I like you,” he repeats, stepping closer, his voice softer now. “Not just as a friend. I like the way you laugh even when things get tough, the way you look after the kids, the way you make everything feel lighter. You make everything better just be being around. And I know I’m not always the best at showing how I feel, but I’m done hiding it.”

The words hang between you, heavy but freeing at the same time. There’s a slight, uncontrollable tremor in his hands as he waits for your response.

“I…” You swallow, trying to find the right words. “I didn’t know … I didn’t know you felt this way. I thought you were avoiding me because…”

“Because I was an idiot,” Soonyoung finishes, offering a nervous lopsided smile. “And I didn’t know how to handle my feelings.”

You don’t respond for a second, and it settles inside him that you’ve still not told him your own feelings. The same anxiety that he’d felt before lurches up into his throat, and he has to will himself to be patient and let you have time to process everything.

He watches your lips part and close again, clearly struggling to find the right words. He feels almost certain that it’s because you don’t know how to let him down nicely, and begins to pull his hands away from your face.

But then, you surge forward and before he realises what’s happening your lips are on his, warm and a little chapped, but so soft, so gentle, that his mind goes completely blank. For a split second, Soonyoung freezes, his heart slamming in his chest as the realisation hits him: you’re kissing him. You’re kissing him.

The rush of warmth floods through him, his anxiety melting away as he melts into the kiss. His hands move back to cradle your face gently, puling you closer and deepening the kiss just slightly, as if afraid you might slip away.

When you finally pull back, your faces are still close, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. Soonyoung’s heart is racing, his mind spinning, but there’s a calm that washes over him – a peace he hadn’t felt in days. The weight of his confession, the fear of rejection, all of it had been for nothing. You kissed him.

He searches your eyes, still not entirely convinced this is real. “Does this mean…?” He trails off, almost too afraid to ask.

You smile softly, your hand still resting on his cheek. “I like you too, Soonyoung. I’ve been pining after you since he first met – I honestly don’t know how you didn’t see it.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, a smile spreading across his face—one so wide, so genuine, that it almost hurts his cheeks. Relief floods through him, a wave of happiness so strong that he can’t help but laugh softly.

“I can’t believe this,” he admits breathlessly. “I really thought I’d screwed every up.”

You laugh too, your eyes crinkling at the corners as you shake your head. “You did, but not beyond repair.”

Soonyoung chuckles, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m sorry for being such an idiot.”

“You’re forgiven,” you reply, your voice light, teasing. “But next time, don’t wait so long to tell me how you feel, okay?”

He grins, his heart swelling in his chest. “I promise. No more waiting.”

For a moment, the two of you stand there, the tension and uncertainty finally gone. And then, he reawakens to the rest of the world. Soonyoung’s eyes widen in horror as the reality of where you both are crashes down on him. The echo of cheers and catcalls rings through the air, carried by the counsellors and campers alike, all watching the two of you from across the clearing. His face burns with embarrassment as he quickly spins around, spotting Gecko and Sparks practically doubled over with laughter, while Fairy’s clapping enthusiastically, a wide grin on her face.

You, meanwhile, are giggling uncontrollably, your hands covering your flushed cheeks as you try to hide.

Soonyoung wants to disappear into the ground, but he can’t help the laugh that escapes his lips. The situation is too ridiculous to feel anything but mildly horrified and amused at the same time. He scratches the back of his head, turning to face the crowd again as he raises a hand awkwardly.

“Well, uh... surprise?” he calls out, his voice cracking slightly.

The crowd erupts into more laughter and teasing applause, a chorus of “Finally!” and “About time!” floating through the air. Mingyu, standing in the front with a smirk, shouts, “Took you long enough, Hoshi!”

Soonyoung glares playfully at him. “Yeah, yeah, alright, I get it!”

You’re still beside him, peeking through your fingers, but then you glance up at him with that familiar sparkle in your eyes, and all of a sudden, the embarrassment doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

Soonyoung lowers his voice, leaning in closer to you. “Well, at least now we don’t have to hide it,” he jokes, trying to play off his own mortification.

You giggle, your blush fading slightly as you finally uncover your face. “I guess not,” you say, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “Still, couldn’t you have waited until we were somewhere a little more… private?”

He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “To be fair, you were the one who stormed up to me.”

Before either of you can say anything more, Sparks bounds over, eyes wide with mock excitement. “Oh my gosh! The drama! The romance! How scandalous!” he exclaims, fanning himself dramatically.

Gecko saunters up behind him, shaking her head with a grin. “You two are worse than the campers. Could you not have waited until after lights out?”

Soonyoung groans, burying his face in his hands for a moment. “Okay, okay, we get it, we’re the camp’s entertainment for the night.”

But when he glances over at you, he can’t help but smile. You’re still laughing softly, your eyes meeting his with an affection that makes the whole embarrassing spectacle worth it.

Soonyoung looks down at you, his expression softening. “You okay?” he asks quietly, just for you to hear.

You nod, your smile widening. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He grins back at you, his heart feeling lighter than it has in days. “Me too.”

You bound out towards the camp entrance, your hair messily crimped by some of your campers, t-shirt stained, and a wild grin smothering your face.

Screams of excitement meet you as you round the wooden ‘Camp Logan’ sign and spot that familiar pink Honda hastily parked on the side of the road. The sight of your two best friends is more than you can handle, and you rush to pull them into a big group hug.

“Oh my god, I missed you guys so much!” You cry out, grabbing Emma and Jane in a tight embrace, your heart bursting with joy. Their laughter fills the air, just as loud and chaotic as you remember, and it feels like no time has passed at all since you last saw them.

Emma pulls back first, grinning from ear to ear. “We missed you too. Look at you! You’re a total camp disaster in the best way possible.” She flicks a playful finger at your hair.

Jane raises and eyebrow and smirks. “Uh-huh, and what’s with the expression? You’ve got that ‘something happened’ face on.” She pokes your arm teasingly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Spill.”

You laugh, trying to act nonchalant, but the truth is bubbling up inside you, ready to burst. “Well... okay, a lot has happened,” you admit, biting your lip as you try to contain your excitement.

Emma immediately gasps, leaning in closer. “Oh my God, you’re glowing. This isn’t just camp fun, is it? Tell me Jane’s prediction came true?”

“Well, technically no.” You start, pausing to watch the excitement fall from their faces into confusion. You lips quirk into a smirk. “You said that I’d have a fling with a mysterious counsellor that I’d never see again, and I know, for sure, that I will be seeing him again.”

Emma’s jaw drops, and she grabs your shoulders, shaking you playfully. “WHAT? You’ll what?! Tell us everything right now.”

You can’t help but grin as you launch into the story, telling them about the confession, the camp’s accidently audience, and the time you’d spent together since. They listen intently, reacting with gasps and giggles, hanging on every word.

When you finish, Emma practically squeals, throwing her arms around you again. “This is so cute, I can’t handle it! And the whole camp saw?! You’re living in a rom-com!”

You beam, happiness radiating from your chest. “I have both of you to thank for it – your advice definitely worked.”

Jane laughs, unlocking the trunk. “Here, pass me your trunk and then we can catch up on all the details. We brough snacks and drinks for a mini picnic – you can tell us more about your camp romance while we stuff our faces, and we’ll give you all the updates of what’s been happening in the real world while you’ve been stuck in camp. There’s so much gossip.”

Jane’s hand reaches out to grab your trunk, before noticing that you’re not holding one. Her face scrunches up in confusion for second, before she follows your gaze which has turned back down the woodchip trail.

“Sorry, I was just helping a kid find his parents.” Soonyoung smiles widely, one hand swinging into a wave, the other holding your case. You can hear a small gasp of shock leave your two friends, and cannot help but bubble with pride.

You run forward, grabbing the case from his hands and setting it down next to the car. Slipping your hand into his with a reassuring smile, you lead him over to your friends. “Guys, this is Soonyoung. This is Emma, and this is Jane.” You introduce everyone, your heart full as all of your favourite people meet.

“Nice to meet you both, I’ve heard a lot about you!” Soonyoung grins.

Emma looks at you, quirks an eyebrow, and then spins back round to your boyfriend with a smirk. “I’d hope so. We are the most important people in her life. Although, apparently, we’ll have to make room for one more.”

You laugh, seeing the blush creeping up Soonyoung’s neck. “I hope that’s not too much trouble for you.” He replies with a soft smile.

Jane moves forward, handing the picnic bag over to him and linking his other arm with hers. “If you tell us all the embarrassing things (Y/n) has done this summer, then we’ll consider you accepted.” She chuckles, leading the group back towards the camp.

You fall behind for a second, happy to see your friends and Soonyoung already chatting like they’ve known each other for years. Your heart swells at the sight, and you smile up at the camp archway with gratitude.

“Come on!” Emma’s arm links with yours as she pulls you out of your thoughts towards where the others had gone. You laugh, stumbling to keep pace with her.

“What do you think?” You whisper in a low tone.

Emma hesitates for a second. You feel slightly nervous waiting for her response, but then a smirk breaks out across her lips. “He’s so hot, (Y/n). You will tell me if you got some, right? You can wait until later if you’re scared other people will hear, but I won’t believe you if you tell me that you didn’t.”

You burst out in laughter, shaking your head at your friend’s familiar antics. “You’re unbelievable.”

Summer camp may have been coming to an end, but you can truthfully say that you’re now even more excited for what comes next.

[hihomeghere]

Nightmare | Arthur Morgan x f!reader x Charles Smith

Summary : Arthur has a recurring nightmare. Part of the series Baptized by Fire

Word count : 3k

Warnings/tags : Mention of death, slight panic attack for Arthur, talk of dead child (Isaac), feelings of inadequacy, poly relationship, Arthur morgan x reader x Charles smith, reader has female gentalia and menstruates, talk of children and pregnancy, talk of natural contraception

this will be the last chapter in Spring! This is my favorite that I've written for these three so far, so if you enjoyed it please let me know!

divider by @saradika

Arthur knew this trail by heart, the map in his satchel long forgotten as he led Boadicea along it. The sun peeked through the trees, golden rays guiding him through the spotlights from above. He tipped his hat a little lower on his face, shielding his eyes from the rays. 

Birds raised their melodious voices into a natural chorus, accompanied by Boadicea’s hooves clopping along the dirt path. A breeze rustled through the leaves, pulling his attention away from the path for only a moment. Arthur’s heart felt light, as though whatever weight had been pulling him down was lifted. A sense of anticipation built in him the longer he rode. He wanted to set his heels in Boadicea’s side, urging the horse into a sprint, but he refrained. Letting her easy trot take him along. He emerged from the canopy of trees, leaving his sanctuary from the blistering heat. 

Still, he would endure whatever Mother Nature sent his way. There was nothing that could damper his spirits today. He was going to see them today. The thought sent a flutter through his stomach, his hands tightening around the reins. The worn leathering creaking under his hands. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, dryer than ever under the smoldering sun. 

The fauna felt it too, the further he ventured the more barren it became. The wildflowers and ferns, wilted and yellowed against the harsh conditions. Arthur felt sweat run down his temple, wiping the salty streak away from his face.

Jesus, it was hot. 

That trickle had now turned into rivulets, pouring off of him the longer he rode. He raised his eyes, catching the waves of heat as they danced on the horizon. Turning the sky and earth into a watercolor, the two bleeding into each other. 

He pulled out his handkerchief, wiping it haphazardly across his face. Boadicea’s hooves crushed the scorched dirt beneath them, although all Arthur cared about was in front of them. 

His life was ahead, in that tiny house. Those tiny fingers and toes, that mop of sandy brown hair much like his own. Her warm and welcoming smile, never changing no matter how long his sorry ass had been gone. 

He had made up his mind, the pack on Boadicea’s rump confirming it. This time, this time, he was staying. 

No more running, no more being a damn coward. He was gonna own up to his actions, not mistakes, never a mistake. The ruby ring weighing down his pocket, never straying far from his mind. He would do it right, after being wrong for this many goddamn years he could do right by her. He could be happy with her.

Despite the sweltering heat, damn near stealing the breath out of his lungs with every breath, he smiled.

And finally, finally, the house came into view. He couldn’t help himself, digging his heel into her side with a resounding ‘hyah’, they raced towards the house. 

Only they didn’t make it far before he saw the graves.

His stomach sank like a rock, the world fading away as his eyes fell upon the two crosses. He urged her to go faster, as though that would clear the image like a mirage. He slung his legs over her back, his knees almost buckling as he hit the ground. 

He smacked his lips together, all the moisture sucked out of his body, he didn’t know if it was from the sun or… this. Two graves. 

He raced towards the small house, tears clouding his vision. He hastily wiped them away, swallowing past the growing lump in his throat. 

But this wasn’t right. It wasn’t like before, the graves… they weren’t packed with dirt. They were open, and instead of Eliza and Isaac’s bodies buried deep in the ground, it was you and Charles. 

“No.” He whispered, his voice shaking as he dropped to his knees. “No- no, no, no.” He repeated as though his words could turn back time. Could undo what monstrosity had been done to the two of you. His heart thudded against his ribs as he jumped into one of the graves. He gathered you in his arms. “C’mon sweetheart- c’mon wake up. Open- open those pretty eyes f’me.” He babbled, pleading for you to look up at him. His hand gripped your hip, feeling the ice cold flesh under your blue dress, now stained with dirt. It was one of his favorites. He held your lifeless body, his hand brushing against your stomach. It was like he was shot, the air knocked out of his lungs as he felt what was obviously a bump. Your stomach rounded with a child, their child. He drug himself out of the grave, pulling you with him. He laid you down on the ground, his body pulled towards Charles, his body much heavier and bulkier than yours, but he still managed. His eyes moved from you to Charles, bile held behind his clamped jaws until he couldn’t hold it back anymore. Bracing himself on his knees as he emptied his stomach onto the grass. Tears streamed down his face, his nose running like a spigot. How damn pathetic he looked was the last thing on his mind. 

You looked so peaceful, like you were only sleeping. His angels, just sleeping, that’s all. 

But the cold chill of your bodies brought him back to reality. He clasped Charles hand in his own, pressing kisses to his palm as he dragged you into his lap.

He had failed again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“ He cried, his chest constricting painfully with each ragged breath. “I love you, I’m sorry!”

Arthur woke with a start, his heart pounding as he sat up in bed. He hadn’t had that dream in a while. Charles' warm back radiated heat to one side of him, while you slept curled up on the other. He panted, running his hand down his face as he tried to gain control over his sporadic breathing. He didn’t need to wrack his brain to figure out why his subconscious had pulled it forward.

You were late. It wasn’t something that didn’t need to be spoken out loud to be known. You were quite regular with your monthlies, sometimes they were a day later or perhaps a day earlier. But never for three days.

They were always prepared. Extra sheets set out on the trunk at the end of the bed. In case the red devil came when you were sleeping. Charles would have tea ready to be brewed once the cramps started in your lower belly. The cloths you used were cleaned and laid out, ready for use, along with your sanitary belt. 

But you hadn’t needed any of them yet. 

He supposed he shouldn’t have been so surprised, him and Charles were always spilling into you. But only on the so called ‘safe’ days. Arthur still didn’t quite understand how there were days of the month you weren’t ‘fertile’. Although he wasn’t well versed in the way women’s bodies worked despite having gotten Eliza pregnant all those years ago.

But it didn’t matter to him, you said you couldn’t get pregnant on certain days, so he believed you. So why the hell were you late?

Sure, you and Charles had times where Arthur didn’t join you. It didn’t matter, he trusted the two of you. There were times when it was just him and Charles, or just him and you.

But he didn’t believe that you’d go behind his back trying to get pregnant without at least talking to him about it first. 

It was moments like this that the little bug began to whisper in Arthur’s ear. Telling him he didn’t belong with the two of you, that he was only bringing you two down, that you’d both be better off without him, that you didn’t need him.

Normally a kiss from Charles or your arms wrapped around his waist would silence this little bug, but this one couldn’t seem to be quieted. 

He groaned, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. You shifted, seemingly disturbed by the noise. You swung your leg up onto his hip, pressing yourself against him. Instinctively he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. He felt something against his thigh as you cuddled up against him. Something wet.

Arthur nudged Charles, pushing the bigger man’s shoulder. 

“Hm?” Charles mumbled, looking over his shoulder at Arthur. His eyes squinted in the low light of the dawn. 

“Reckon, we're gonna need to change the sheets.” He said softly, looking back down at you. Charles nodded, immediately getting out of bed. Arthur shook your shoulder, gently rousing you from your sleep.

“C’mon sweetheart, let’s get you up.” He said softly, rising from the middle of the bed. Charles was lighting the oil lamp on the bedside table, casting a golden glow over the three of you.

You quickly realized what was happening. A low sigh leaving your lips as you started to strip out of your blood stained nightgown and bloomers. Arthur went into the main room, grabbing a wash rag from the kitchen. He wet the cloth in the basin before returning to the bedroom. Charles pressed a kiss to your crown as he moved to the other side of the bed, collecting the sheets. Arthur handed you the rag, letting you clean your thighs off before you put on your sanitary belt.

He headed back into the main room, working on getting the fire going before you eventually made your way out to join him. 

As he added the logs to the hearth, he couldn’t get the image of you and Charles’ lifeless bodies out of his head. The almost waxy look of your skin, the unmistakable bump under your dress… He shook his head, trying to clear the image as he sat down in his chair.

You shuffled out of the bedroom, Charles poncho falling to your thighs. You curled up on his lap, resting your head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around your waist, feeling your body heat under his fingertips. So unlike his nightmare, you were alive, both you and Charles were alive. 

The only sound was the gentle creak of the rocking chair and the light crackle from the fire. But it wasn’t tense or awkward, just comfortable.

Charles came out of the bedroom, laying the sheets in the basin to soak. He sat down on the identical rocking chair, rubbing his eyes as he let out a yawn.

“What woke you up?” He asked, looking over at Arthur. Of course he would ask that.

“Nothing.” He mumbled, brushing his fingers through your hair. He knew he had given himself away almost immediately. You stiffened just slightly before you lifted your head off his chest, sparing a glance at Charles. 

He understood what you meant now. When you had first come to live with him and Charles you would complain about the ‘silent’ conversations that were had. Arthur was now on the outside of one of these conversations. 

“Arthur, are you alright honey?” You asked looking back at him.

God damn that sweet honeyed voice, how could he ever lie to you? Not that he was the best liar anyway, not when you and Charles could read him like a damn book. 

“You know how I was almost married before.” He asked, his fingers running over the ruby ring resting on your finger. 

“To Mary.” You nodded, furrowing your brows as you tried to figure out where he was going with this. 

“After she… after she called it off there was another girl. She- she was young and I was a fool.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I got her pregnant.” He didn’t miss the way your eyebrows shot up. “She had Isaac my- my boy. I’d visit when I could but each time I was gone it just- just felt like an eternity. Christ, he’d go from sitting to walking, babbling to talking. But I had the gang and I’d send her money, not that that counted for much.” He knew he was rattling on but he couldn’t help himself. “I was such a fool back then, still am in some ways I suppose. I was so focused on the gang, on Dutch…” He trailed off, anger and guilt burning deep in his belly, only cooled by the gentle touch of your palm on his chest. “One day I rode out there and-“ He cut himself off, the lump in his throat growing too large to speak.

“Oh Arthur,” You said softly, running your thumb over his cheek. “I’m so sorry.” He didn’t deserve to be comforted, but he couldn’t bear to push you away.

“All over a few dollars.” He shook his head, “I didn’t know the first thing about being a father and- I doubt I’d be any better now.” He muttered, looking into the low burning flames. 

“Did you know?” You asked Charles, raising your head to look at him. He nodded, moving his gaze back to the fire.

“I… I used to dream of them, finding the graves…” His voice broke as he fought to speak, “But this time it- wasn’t them. It- it was you n’ Charles.” He saw Charles wince out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh honey.” You sighed, his words tugging at your heart strings, “Honey it’s okay, it’s okay.” You said cupping his cheek, running your thumb over his cheekbone. Brushing away any stray tears. “What happened was a tragedy, but it wasn’t your fault-“

“If I had been there-“ He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head, “I could’ve saved them. If I would’ve done right by them they’d still be alive.” He choked back a sob. 

“Arthur-“ Charles sighed looking over at the two of you.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling his head to your breast. He melted in your embrace, holding onto you like you would disappear into thin air if he let go. He listened to the thump of your heart against his ear, his tears slowly drying as he took in a few shuddering breaths.

How the hell did he manage to find two of the most understanding people in the world, and how did he make them both fall in love with someone like him?

The awful part was he was disappointed when you started to bleed. He wanted it. He wanted to see you grow round with Charles and his baby. To feel the babe shift and kick under your skin. To watch as you grew into a mother, he knew you’d be perfect. To see Charles be a father. To have a second chance at what he missed with Eliza and Isaac, to make them proud.

But he didn’t deserve it.

“We’ll be careful Arthur.” You said, petting his hair, “We’ll just keep track of the days and if you’re really worried we don’t have to-“

“I don’t want to be careful.” He huffed, pulling away from you. He got to his feet, pacing in front of the fireplace. “I don’t want to be careful I want-“ He ran a hand through his hair, knowing he probably looked like a fool. “I want- I want…” He trailed off, biting his lip as he shook his head.

“Arthur?” Charles asked, his deep timbre voice setting his blood ablaze.

“I’m making a damn fool of myself.” He grumbled, running his hand down his face.

“Arthur.” You stopped him, grabbing the hand that had been clenched into a fist at his side. “If… if having a- a family- is something you want,” You started slowly, looking over at Charles before you continued, “We want it too.” You said, running your thumb over his knuckles.

“You mean it?” He asked breathlessly, looking from you to Charles.

“Yeah.” Charles nodded, an easy smile on his plump lips. Arthur looked between the two of you, seemingly stunned for a few moments before he pulled you towards him. His hand grasped at Charles' shirt before he too was pulled into Arthur's embrace. 

“Yer serious?” Arthur asked, his voice slightly muffled as he pressed his face into Charles' neck.

“We’re serious honey.” You said wrapping your arms around the two of them. “I mean, it ain’t no secret that Charles has wanted to see me in that way.” You giggled. Charles let out an amused huff, shaking his head. “Just didn’t know you wanted it too.” You hummed, moving back to kiss his cheek.

“I’m a lucky son of a bitch.” Arthur said, swallowing past the lump in his throat as he looked from you to Charles. The loves of his life, here in his arms, agreeing to start a family.

“We’re pretty lucky too, cowboy.” Charles chuckled, squeezing your waist before pressing his lips to Arthur’s, “Now I’m going back to bed, and I think you all should join me.” He said with a yawn.

“What do you say honey?” You asked, leaning your head on Arthur’s shoulder.

“Let’s go to bed.” He nodded, letting you and Charles walk him back to bed.

Arthur fell asleep, tucked in between you and Charles.

He dreamt of Boadicea, riding her along the dirt road. His heart in his throat as he watched the door open, Isaac’s sandy brown hair flying in the wind as he raced towards him. Arthur jumped down from her back, his arms flung wide as he caught him in his embrace. Through tearful eyes he looked up towards the house. Eliza stood on the porch, her warm gaze finding him. From the inside of the house you and Charles walk out, his arm around your waist. That pretty little blue dress hugging your figure as Charles cups your belly.

“C’mon pa!” Isaac said in that sweet boyish voice, tugging on his hand as he led Arthur to the house.

He never had that dream again.

Tag list :

@photo1030 , @emerald-ranch @highlandhour , @buffkirby2020 , @esquilone , @cyb3rsx , @whalecage , @idekraeven , @calcarius445 , @heloixe , @heron-feathers , @bluebxrrxl , @youngwhisperstree , @snoorio , @punctatum

[ssweeterthanfiction]

Roadtrip Polaroids

billy dunne x fem!reader content warnings: none! summary: roadtrip with your rockstar boyfriend wc: 1.5k

masterlist.

Summer of '78

"Babydoll, where are you taking me?" Billy says with an amused smirk and laugh as you drag him to the front door.

You roll your eyes and laugh, "You'll see..."

Walking out the door, you let go of Billy's arm and gesture to your car.

"Ta da!"

Billy raises a brow and looks at you with a confused look in his eyes, "Um...it's just your car..."

You scoff, "No, it's not just my car..." you say taking both his hands into yours. "I thought...since you've been so stressed lately, I thought you might like a break. So...I planned us a road trip!"

Billy stares at you, blinking for a moment as he processes your words. "Are you serious?" he says, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Absolutely," you say, tugging on his hand, "No work, no band stuff. Just…us."

He stares at you for a moment then he grins, "You’re incredible, you know that?"

"Only for you," you tease, nudging him again. "Now, get in the car, or I’ll leave you behind."

Billy laughs, opening the door for you and walking around to the driver’s side, "Alright, alright. Lead the way, babydoll."

"Wait- where am I turning again?" Billy says, his hands on the wheel as he looks over at you.

"Mm- nowhere, we gotta keep going on this highway"

"But didn't you say you were hungry?"

"No...you said you were hungry, Billy" you say, laughing.

"Oh right" he says, grinning.

You roll your eyes and look down at the map, "There's a rest stop about...3 miles ahead"

Billy glances at the road signs, squinting slightly as he adjusts the rearview mirror. “Alright, three miles til food it is,” he mutters, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm to the radio.

You smile and admire him for a moment before pulling out your polaroid camera.

He turns his head and laughs, "What are you doing with that?"

"Just wanna take a picture" you say, snapping a quick picture.

Billy laughs and shakes his head, "You and that camera...I swear that thing is fused to your hand"

You laugh, "I'm just making sure our memories get captured"

Billy chuckles and glances over at you as you lower the camera. "You know, you’re going to have an entire album full of pictures of me, right?" he teases.

You grin mischievously, holding the camera up again. "That's the plan." Click.

Billy chuckles, shaking his head as you take another picture of the open road ahead, the sunlight painting everything in soft gold. The car hums quietly beneath you, the simple sounds of the engine and the distant sound of the radio filling the air.

For a moment, everything feels perfect, as if nothing in the world matters except for the two of you.

After a while, Billy breaks the quiet. "So, you gonna tell me where we’re actually going after this stop?"

You smile, "I could tell you, but that would ruin the surprise.”

Billy raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “A surprise, huh? Well, I like surprises.” he says as he shifts gears, the engine humming smoothly as he takes the next exit toward the rest stop.

You lean your head against the window...and then you hear a familiar beat.

Hopelessly Devoted to You.

The song you've had on repeat for a month since you first saw Grease with Billy.

As the song continues to play, Billy turns the volume up just a bit, making the car feel like it’s alive with energy. You can’t resist. You start humming along, tapping your fingers against your knee, and before you know it, you're softly singing the lyrics.

He grins, his hand slipping from the gearshift to rest on your knee for just a second before he squeezes it lightly. “You’ve got a beautiful voice, babydoll.”

You glance down at his hand on your knee and blush. You’re about to say something back when the song shifts to the second verse, and before you know it, Billy’s humming along too.

You both start singing the chorus together. Laughing, you turn to him, and again, for a moment, the world disappears. It’s just the two of you—your voices blending perfectly together.

When the song finally fades out, Billy grins at you, his eyes full of amusement. "Okay, that was a lot of fun."

"Course it was"

After just a few minutes, you and Billy arrive at the rest stop, and you enter a small diner.

You both order burgers, fries, and shakes.

The two of you slide into a booth by the window, the warm glow of the setting sun casting long shadows across the table. Billy leans back against the seat, stretching his arms over his head before resting one along the back of the booth, his fingers just barely brushing your shoulder.

"So," he says, reaching for a fry and popping it into his mouth. "Are you gonna give me a hint about where we’re going, or am I gonna have to keep pestering you the whole drive?"

You smirk, dipping a fry into your shake. "Hmm… I think I like the idea of you pestering me."

Billy chuckles, shaking his head. "You are evil."

"You love it."

He sighs dramatically, taking a sip of his chocolate shake. “Unfortunately for me, I do.”

You both keep talking and laughing together. And of course, you keep taking pictures of him.

It’s easy.

Comfortable.

Like it almost always is with him.

Billy then steals a fry from your plate, and you swat at his hand. “Hey! Get your own.”

“Yours taste better,” he says with a grin, popping the fry into his mouth.

You roll your eyes and it isn't long before the two of you finish.

Billy pays and you're both back on the road.

You were on the road for about a day and a half. After stopping at a motel to sleep for the night and stopping at another diner to pick up breakfast, you were both now less than an hour away from your destination.

"Okay, now will you tell me where we're gonna be at?" Billy says, chuckling as you go through the thick stack of polaroids in your lap.

"Mmm...I've kept it secret for this long...why ruin it now?"

He groans playfully and you laugh.

Billy shakes his head with a grin. "You’re really enjoying this, huh?"

"Immensely."

He chuckles, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he glances at the road signs. “Well, if we’re this close, I’m guessing it’s gotta be something big.”

You hum in response, watching the landscape change as the miles pass.

Soon, you spot the first signs for Mount Rushmore, and you can’t help the little grin that tugs at your lips.

Billy notices immediately. "Oh, that’s the look," he teases. "That’s a ‘we’re almost there’ look."

You try to keep a straight face, but his knowing smirk makes it impossible. "Maybe," you say vaguely, turning your gaze to the window.

Another fifteen minutes pass before Billy slows the car, his eyes scanning ahead. "Wait…is that?"

Before he can finish, the giant carved faces of Mount Rushmore come into view.

You grin, pointing toward it. "Surprise!"

Billy lets out a low whistle as he pulls into the parking area. “Damn. That’s—” he pauses, “That’s pretty incredible.”

You step out of the car, stretching your arms over your head before looking up at the monument.

You stare at it for a few long moments before slowly tilting your head.

"Huh."

Billy watches you, amused. “What’s that face?”

You hesitate before sighing dramatically. "It looked more impressive in pictures."

Billy bursts out laughing, leaning against the hood of the car. "No way. No way did we just drive all this way for you to say that."

You try to suppress a smile, but his laughter is contagious, and soon you’re giggling too. "I mean, it’s cool and all, but… I don’t know. I thought it’d be more....more!"

Billy is still laughing, shaking his head. "You’re unbelievable."

You cross your arms, pretending to be unimpressed. "Well, I’m sorry, but I expected to be blown away, and right now, I’m just…moderately breezed."

Billy wipes at his eyes, grinning. "Moderately breezed? That’s a new one."

You nudge him lightly. "You’re enjoying this way too much."

"Are you kidding? This is the funniest thing that’s happened all trip," he says, still chuckling. "We drove for hours, stayed in a sketchy motel, ate diner food for two days… and you’re underwhelmed."

You groan. "Don’t make it sound like that!"

Billy grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “Well, since the trip’s a bust, how about we take a couple of pictures to make it worth it?”

"Fine. But I’m making a ridiculous face in at least three of them."

Billy smirks, taking your camera out of your hands. “Deal.”

You pout and hold up a thumbs down, Billy laughs and quickly snaps the picture.

He keeps taking pictures, but you can’t help but think...sure, Mount Rushmore wasn’t as impressive as you expected, but this moment with him? This whole road trip?

It was perfect in everyway.

A/N: AHHHHHH I HOPE U GUYS LIKED THIS!!!!

[loz-chainsofcorruption]

With Rain Comes Pain

No one - except Wind and Wild, the former of which was used to the humidity and the latter of which just didn't seem to care - was fond of the humid parts of Wild's lands, be it the hotter Faron Region, or the cooler Lanayru Wetlands where they were right now, but Legend had a special sort of distaste for it.

The humidity made him hurt.

And an oncoming storm was only going to make it worse.

AKA I inflict Legend with my chronic pain issues and hand Time some mild arthritis as a treat. Half the group gets to do some crazy climbing to shelter under a tower (RIP to those guys), and the rest of the gang gets to shelter under a shrine.

Written for @linked-disability

Also here on ao3

Walking through the portal, the group was hit with what felt like a wall of thick, cool air. There was a chorus of groans.

“Oh, joy,” Legend said with a scowl.

Warriors looked torn between taking off his scarf and pulling it closer to his neck. The air here wasn't just wet, but also chilly. An annoying combination to say the least.

“It's so humid here,” Four bemoaned, pushing his headband up a little higher to keep more hair out of his face so it wouldn't cling to his cheeks. His skin was already looking damp as the breeze blew moisture against them.

“It's not that bad,” Wind said.

“You live in an ocean world. You never think humidity is that bad,” Four retorted.

No one - except Wind and Wild, the former of which was used to the humidity and the latter of which just didn't seem to care - was fond of the humid parts of Wild's lands, be it the hotter Faron Region, or the cooler Lanayru Wetlands where they were right now, but Legend had a special sort of distaste for it.

The humidity made him hurt.

Already, as they began to walk down a sloped path in the direction of the river, Wild leading the way and promising to get them out of the area and to the Trillby Plains, he could feel a soreness starting to form in his fingers and knees. It would no doubt soon become full-body aches. If only they could stop just long enough for him to make some tea…

But the sooner they could leave the area, the better. 

He withheld a groan, the sound coming out more like a grunt of air as the path steepened a little, each step jolting up his legs. The pain was coming on even faster than usual, and worse than usual too. He couldn't even help the continuous, nonverbal grunts each time the ground dipped and his step dropped a little lower. He was glad the sound of footsteps seemed to cover it.

“Wild,” he said after a couple of minutes. “Is there rain coming?”

That was one of the nifty parts of Wild's Sheikah Slate - it somehow knew what the oncoming weather was.

Wild pulled out his Slate to check. “Oh! Oh. Thunderstorm, actually. How do you always know?”

“Magic,” he said through gritted teeth.

“We're not going to be able to get out of the area before the storm hits,” Wild said, a small frown tugging at his lips.

At that, everyone with armor started stripping it off, and weapons and shields that weren't wooden were put away. Thunderstorms in this era came with lightning; lightning that was very fond of anything metal. It made everyone uneasy, not having their usual weapons out, but getting fried wasn't worth the risk. Wild had made that very clear the first time a thunderstorm had rolled in while they were in his time, and honestly, Legend hadn’t wanted to get struck by lightning again if he could avoid it.

Begrudgingly, he slipped his rings off, save for the Green Holy ring, having to fight yanking them off a little more with his fingers swelling. He rubbed at his hands and looked at the champion, who was studying his map as thunder started to rumble in the distance before turning around and weaving through the group.

“We're going back?”

“We won't outpace the storm if we keep going that way, and there's nothing close enough in that direction to shelter anyone. There's a shrine not too far behind us, and…” Wild tossed a glance over his shoulder. “And a tower pretty close to that, since not everyone would be able to fit under the shrine's overhang. But uh, there's gonna be a lot of climbing to get to the tower.”

“We know you have to climb the towers, Wild, you don't have to warn us,” Sky said.

“No, there's a lot of climbing to get to the tower,” Wild repeated. “Hard climbing.”

He turned to scan the group, walking backwards as he did so, and Legend looked over everyone as well. 

Hyrule and Warriors weren't very good when it came to climbing. Legend wasn't either, even when he wasn't hurting so badly. 

Wind was a fine climber, so was Twilight; he'd be even faster with his clawshots once they reached the tower itself. Sky was alright, low stamina aside, but he'd seen platforms dotting the sides of every tower they'd ever passed while in Wild's era. Plus, the champion had stamina elixirs for anything else. Four had a grip ring that helped him climb like a pro that he'd proudly shown off once on one of Wild's towers just for fun, and everyone knew Wild himself was a climbing beast as long as the surface was dry. 

Time never seemed to have too much trouble climbing either, so Legend was surprised when he said, “If it's all the same to you, I'll stick to the ground level group.”

Wild nodded. “That's fine. Hyrule, Wars, Legend, and you should all fit alright under the shrine's overhang. It'll be a bit of a squeeze, but I think you guys can manage. It's on the way to the tower, so we can drop you off there, and I'll lead the rest of you guys to the tower.”

The pace was picked up as the sky slowly darkened, Wild continuing to glance at his Slate to make sure the group would make it in time.

“Down here,” he said, sliding down a short, rocky ledge to where the shrine waited. Everyone followed him down, Legend biting his lip as his boots hit the ground.

“The rest of us go over that bridge.” Wild pointed to a small bridge with two intricate-looking watchtowers next to it, stone tips glowing a faint cyan. “Almost everything from there onwards is climbing. Good thing the monsters in this area were cleared out, or getting up there would be an even bigger pain.”

Pulling out his longhook, Legend handed it over to Wild. “Just in case.”

They had long ago found a workaround for areas where there was no choice but to climb. It was convoluted and slow-going, but it worked as long as there were enough landings big enough for a person to stand. Wild would climb up to an area where he could stand and then switch out with someone below who couldn't climb. He'd climb up again, past that break point and to another, then switch again. Rinse and repeat until they reach the top. 

It was a good thing the champion seemed to enjoy climbing, because he sometimes had to do it for more than one person.

“Thanks,” Wild said before leaping off the ledge and paragliding to the ground below, waving an arm. “Pick up the pace, guys! We gotta beat the rain!”

The others made use of what they had - Roc’s Feather, Sailcloth, and Deku Leaf - to safely and quickly reach the ground. Twilight opted for four paws and a lower center of gravity to traverse the bumpy rocks down to the ground. He nudged Four and ducked down when he reached the bottom, who huffed in annoyance but climbed aboard, leaning his torso flat against the wolf’s back and getting a good grip before Twilight took off at a faster pace, the others jogging as another rumble of thunder filled the air. Legend watched Wild hand Sky a bottle as they crossed the bridge before grabbing Twilight by the ear and yanking him down to his height long enough to tie a bandana around his head.

Eventually, the group disappeared around the corner of a cliff. Still, the four left behind - Legend, Time, Warriors, and Hyrule - stayed at the ledge and watched, waiting to see the group appear at the top of that cliff.

“There really is a lot of hard climbing, huh?” Warriors remarked. Legend nodded.

The small figure of Four appeared at the rocky, sloped top in no time - oh, how jealous Legend was of that grip ring - but he peered down, something in hand.

The longhook, Legend realized, as Sky appeared at the top in Four's place. Seemed they'd decided to have the faster climbers swap with the slower ones to shave off a bit of time. 

“Catch!” Four's shout carried across the small valley.

“Got it!” Wild called. Moments later, he clambered over the top, leaned over the edge, longhook in hand. Had he caught that while climbing? The champion traded places with Twilight, their other slower climber. Legend may not have been great at climbing - in truth, his arm strength wasn't superb, and he just wasn't great at finding purchase on walls - but even he knew the way the rancher climbed was outright weird. It worked, sure, but it was slow and looked absolutely ridiculous. 

Wind reached the top just a few moments before Four got there a second time, Wild right behind him. Twilight and Sky had already gotten a start on the next cliff. This one at least had a platform not far off from the group, enabling an even faster swap out as Wild practically jumped his way up the cliff towards the rock jutting out. Wind had just gotten started, so it seemed the champion opted to swap with him. When Four reached the top, he offered a hand to help Sky up to the platform while Wind sat on the ground behind him, arms around Four's torso for stability. Four's strength never failed to amaze Legend, but he supposed one needed to be pretty strong to be a smith. The three stooped low and careful on the sharply angled platform to keep from sliding off, then worked together to hoist Twilight up and out of the way so Wild had room to join them.

Idly massaging his fingers, Legend didn't envy the climbing group at all. It looked like tough work, and they still had one more short cliff face to climb, plus a whole tower after that.

The group made their way up, helping each other along, before disappearing out of sight, leaving those by the shrine with nothing to look at but massive, curved bones jutting up from the ground and dark, rumbling skies.

“Do you think they'll make it before the rain starts?” Hyrule asked.

“Worst case scenario, Wild warps them,” Warriors said, and everyone in the group made a face - even Time seemed to wince a little. There was nothing comfortable about having one's entire being unwoven and rebuilt in another location. Wild said it didn't feel all that weird to him, and Legend suspected his one-hundred-year-long soak in the “Sheikah juice”, as the champion called it, had something to do with it. 

“Maybe his body is more conductive to their warp technology,” Four had once theorized, and Legend was inclined to agree. 

It took longer than expected to see Wild stand up on one of the lower platforms of the towers. Were there monsters up there? A smaller cliff to climb that they couldn't see from their angle?

Whatever had slowed them wasn't an issue anymore as they resumed their pattern of teamwork-climbing, steadily making their way up the tower. 

Legend flinched as something cold and wet hit his nose. 

“Uh-oh,” Hyrule murmured. 

Everyone on the ground began to hold hands over their eyes to shield them from the occasional drops to keep an eye on the tower. Twilight pulled himself up with his clawshots, and Four disappeared up the hole behind him and onto the tower's platform, out of view. A moment later, Wind vanished and Wild appeared in his place. Everyone but Wild and Sky were on the platform now, but the rain was picking up, forcing everyone at the shrine to back inside, out of the water.

Though they were just tiny figures, getting blurrier through the rainfall, they could still make out Wild doing his best to climb up the last stretch of the tower, but he slid back down, and Sky reached to steady him. Wild made a lot of gestures, pointing up - probably trying to convince Sky that warping up there was a lot better in the long run than staying in the pouring rain, if Legend had to guess - before the two crowded together and disappeared in a faint blue wisp of light.

“Poor Sky,” Hyrule said.

“He'll survive,” Legend replied, trying to back a little further out of the rain. The wall of the shrine was cold, damp from the humidity, and awkwardly curved against his back. It didn't take long for him to sink to the ground, tugging his legs as tightly to his chest as he could. Time followed suit not long after, while Hyrule and Warriors opted to stay standing for now. 

“You're in pain,” Warriors commented, and everyone's attention swung to him, some to see who he was talking about, and Legend to give him a glare for noticing and mentioning it. But his next sentence surprised the veteran. “Both of you are.” Both? “Legend, you keep rubbing your hands and shifting and grimacing. Time, you were putting less weight on your left leg while walking.”

“Are you guys hurt?” Hyrule said, hands raised at the ready.

“Not an injury,” Legend assured him, giving a quick, sour look at Warriors. “I just… get achy sometimes.” To ease concern, he quickly added a fib. “Only when it gets stormy.”

Warriors glanced just past Legend's head and let out the tiniest scoff. The veteran's eyes narrowed before he decided to turn his attention to Time. He hadn't been paying enough attention, distracted by his own sore body, to notice Time's troubles.

“What's your deal?” he asked.

Time sighed. “My knees act up on occasion. Left one especially. Guess it comes with age.”

“You really do your best to live up to the nickname, huh, ‘old man'?” Hyrule remarked with a crooked smile while Legend dug into his bag.

Time chuckled. “Guess so.”

“Here, try this.” Legend held his Fire Rod out past Hyrule and towards Time. 

The man reached for it, then hesitated. “What about you?”

“I'm going to try my Ice Rod. Which one helps - cold or heat - depends on the day. If these don't work, we can swap,” Legend said.

“And if only one works for both of us?” Time questioned.

“We'll cross that bridge if we come to it.”

The man sighed and accepted the Fire Rod. Legend took out his Ice Rod and did his best to tamp down the chilly temperature with his magic. He knew, with this sort of weather, with this sensation in his fingers, that heat would soothe the stiffness and pain, whereas cold would probably just make it worse.

That was likely the case for Time, too. If he was wrong, and Time wanted to swap, that would be ideal, but if not… Well, Legend had a feeling the only way the old man would accept the help was if Legend insisted he had other options.

Sneaking a glance over at Time, he could see the way the man slowly seemed to relax as he pressed the warmth to his troublesome knees.

He discreetly adjusted his grip on the Ice Rod, lifting the few fingers that were out of view of the others off just enough so they wouldn't be directly on the rod, though the weapon seemed to radiate a cool sensation into the air an inch or two around it. The sky lit up, and Hyrule “oohed” over the lightning before a particularly loud boom of thunder resounded in the air. Legend flinched, hands tightening on the Ice Rod before quickly loosening them again. Even so, as fingers of lightning spread across the sky again, he couldn't help but tense. Lightning always put him on edge, and while low rolls of thunder didn't bother him too much, sudden, loud claps of it made him feel rattled.

“How's yours doing?” Time asked without saying anything about how the rod helped him, which meant he was planning to swap if the Ice Rod wasn't helping Legend, even if the Fire Rod was helping Time.

Stubborn old man.

“Just what I needed,” he lied smoothly. “Guess it's an ice kind of day. How about you?”

“It's helping,” Time admitted. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Though his fingers were cold, the side of his head was burning; a glance across the shrine's small cove showed Warriors staring at him. Why? Did he somehow know? 

But if anyone would catch him on his bluff, it would be him, wouldn't it? As much as he ragged on the captain, he loved him, but love did not stop Legend from being driven up the wall by several things about him.

First and foremost was how observant he was. Was it too much to ask to remain unperceived? If he wanted to lie about his well-being, that was his choice, and the captain could keep his perfectly shaped nose out of it.

Thankfully, if Warriors knew, he didn't call him out. However, after a few beats, he said, “I've heard that swapping between cold and hot can help pain.” The man said it casually as he leaned against the wall, eyes moving to Hyrule. “Hyrule, you have a candle, right?”

“It doesn't provide a whole lot of heat, though,” Hyrule said as he rummaged in his bag and pulled it out.

“But enough to cup hands around, right?” Warriors gaze swung over to Legend pointedly.

“Oh, yeah! I'd think so,” Hyrule said. “It's kept my hands warm plenty of nights in the past.”

In a battle of stubborn wills, Legend stared at Warriors, and Warriors stared back at him, quirking a sharp brow.

“Pass it over,” Legend said, putting his Ice Rod away. “I guess I'll give it a go.” Just to make it clear he was definitely unsure about this whole thing and was totally, absolutely fine using just the Ice Rod, he added, “But if this makes it all worse, you have to give me a hand massage.”

“Okay,” Hyrule said.

“I was talking to the captain.”

“Oh, right.”

Legend took the candle and carefully propped the flat disk between his knees, then cupped his fingers around the flame. He tried to keep his breath of relief from being too obvious.

After a few minutes had passed, he realized he should probably say something. “I don't think it's making it worse. How long should I use heat for? Do I swap back to cold later?”

“I'm not sure,” Warriors said, and Legend couldn't decide if he was telling the truth or not. “I suppose you'll just have to listen to your body and decide.”

He rolled his eyes with a huff, but he didn't mind the answer. Any excuse to keep the heat a while longer was good enough for him… though he'd probably have to give in and switch back to the Ice Rod at some point if he was going to maintain the facade. Unless he could pretend the ice and heat were helping equally. 

If only the warmth of the candle hit his knees better. And his calves, and ankles, and elbows, and-

No use dwelling on it, he thought, resting his head on the wall. Even with his eyes closed, he could tell when lightning flashed through the skies, and he couldn't help but tense a little each time, anticipating the next sound of thunder. But as each rumble remained just that, he relaxed a little.

Until another crash shook the ground and he jerked, the candle tipping between his legs. With a curse, he made a move to grab it as it tumbled, but yanked his hands back with a hiss as the flame licked at his fingertips. The candle hit the ground, and Hyrule quickly righted it, moving it aside, before reaching over for Legend's hands.

“Did you burn your fingers?”

“I'm fine,” Legend said, pulling his hands away.

Stubborn, Hyrule stretched across him and grabbed his wrists, pulling his hands back towards him to investigate. “You burned yourself.”

He pulled them away again. “They'll be fine. Don't waste your energy on this. I've got an Ice Rod.”

“Legend,” Hyrule scolded. “There's no sense in leaving your fingers burned!”

“At least drink a potion,” Time said.

“I'm not wasting a potion on a minor burn. It's two fingers!”

“Which means it won't use up much of my energy at all to heal!” Hyrule insisted, taking Legend's hand again. 

Grumpy from pain and feeling particularly hard-headed, the veteran made to pull away again, but another boom roared through the skies, pulsing through his bones. He found his fingers wrapping tightly around Hyrule's as every muscle seemed to constrict at the sound. 

Hazel eyes flicked up to his, and Legend lifted his fingers, looking away. Something warm and tingly spread across them, and he yanked his hands away at the same time Hyrule let them go.

“See? All healed up. Easy.”

The best he could summon was barely a scowl. His friend was just trying to help. He knew he shouldn't be harsh over it, but…

He still tilted away from him and curled in on himself, staring out at the ringlets the raindrops made when landing in the puddles of water spotting the ground.

A small, disappointed sigh he clocked as being from Time sounded behind him, and he sank down a little, scowl deepening. The old man was in pain too, but he wasn't lashing out at others. Why was he like this? Why couldn't he be more like… like Sky? Everyone liked Sky.

A warmth suddenly pressed to his side, and he nearly turned to tell Time he didn't need the Fire Rod, but he realized the warmth was soft, molding against him, not a hard staff, and his gaze was met with Hyrule's, who gave him a knowing smile.

“I'm chilly,” he said with a smile a little too cheeky for Legend's liking.

With a sigh, he turned back and wrapped an arm around his successor, who threw his arm across Legend's middle.

“You're welcome,” Hyrule whispered, and Legend barked out a small laugh.

“Thanks,” he grumbled dryly, even as the corner of his mouth turned up. Everything hurt, and the thunderstorm sucked, but Hyrule at his side made it all a little less awful. 

And if the Hyrule grabbed onto one of Legend's hands, giving it the gentlest of squeezes every time a particularly loud boom of thunder sounded, or an especially close strike of lightning hit the ground, neither of them said anything about it. 

Later, Legend found the opportunity to corner Warriors and ask him the question that had been burning in him. “How did you know?”

“How did I know what?” Warriors asked a little too innocently.

His eyes narrowed. “Don't screw with me. Back at the shrine. How did you know?”

“What, that you're a big, self-sacrificing, hypocritical liar?” Warriors asked.

A flush spread across Legend's face. Not how he would have preferred that to have been worded. “The old man does enough for all of us. The least I could do was let him be the one to use the Fire Rod. But how did you know?”

“That's why I didn't say anything back there. For Time's sake. But you have a tell when you lie,” Warriors said, eyes sparkling with amusement.

His brows furrowed. He did? He thought he was a pretty smooth liar. What would he have-?

Warriors reached out and tweaked his ear teasingly, and he swatted him away before freezing as he remembered that one woman's off-handed comment in Lorule. 

“You lying? Cuz your ears twitched real funny there. Mine do that when I lie.”

Ears twitched sometimes. When things were too loud, if a tickle was felt there; it was just part of life, so he hadn't put much stock in her words, but…

His hands rose to cover his ears, embarrassed heat radiating off of them.

No way, do they?

Warriors started laughing hard, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he moved to pass him. “I wonder how long it'll take for the others to notice.”

He stared at Warriors as he walked past, and as his cheeks burned, he wondered if it was possible to train his ears into keeping still.

(Go to ao3 for bonus author's notes)

[krispdreemurr]

I have no idea how to really interpret any of this but Raise Up Your Bat as an answer to Don't Forget has been gnawing on me since I heard it. Like. Don't forget / I'm with you in the dark – okay, but who's "I"? If you're "with me," why Would I forget you, and where exactly are you? Why Shouldn't I forget you? Because I'm with you in the dark. Oh. With your heart as the ark / which shall shine you the way – ark as in a boat? A holy... vessel, to store the vulnerable creatures and bring them out the other side (through the waves) to be released into the (new?) world and live again? A sort of cage, even. And that Soul sure can "guide them through the dark" and "shine the way" in chap 4...

And maybe it's meant to be a Deltist song about the prophecy that Dess just did an edgy remix of or something, and "I" is us/the Soul, but if we're meant to affiliate Dess that much with Raise Up Your Bat (the motif Does play in her room, and she plays guitar just like Kris so she would also take the lead "voice," and Come follow me into the dark seems... fairly pointed) then does that imply Dess isn't actually "lost" and is riding along with/following the Soul/Kris somehow?? With your heart as my mark – is that "mark" like x marks the spot, finding where you're going on a map? "Mark" like a mark she left, or something she changed (maybe even empowered?) that serves as a sign of her presence? (Given the constant Christmas theme with the Hollidays, there is something a certain reindeer is pretty famous for doing...) "Mark" like a hunting mark, a target to be tracked down and killed? Where in the world is Carmen San-Dess-ego, and what is she up to??

And given how relevant to the prophecy everything in the lyrics is (which might be another reason Ralsei changed them beyond just being soft and fluffy), who wrote this song, anyway? In-universe?

i don't knooow. a lot is really evocative in there about what's standing up against the forces of fate and so on, like it's pretty clear where dess stands on the prophecy thing, but the chorus is... evocative but unclear.

i wonder if the soul is meant to guide dess back, in the plan. but where would that idea come from? how does it work?

i do feel like dess wrote it, it's too strongly wrapped around her for me to just see it as a song she liked

[letterful]

❝ “Columbia now nine times the speed of sound.” “Roger that, Dan, I’ve got a solid TACAN locked on, uh, TACAN twenty-three.” “The, uh, tracking data, map data and pre-planned trajectory are all one line on the block.”

These authentic samples of communication between NASA and astronaut Dan Brandenstein on the space shuttle Columbia place us in orbit around our planet. Kate has said of “Hello Earth,” “…this is the point where she’s so weak that she relives the experience of the storm that took her in the water, almost from a view looking down on the earth up in the heavens, watching the storm start to form - the storm that eventually took her and that has put her in this situation.” Our narrator is having another out-of-body experience but this time it’s not nearby, on terra firma, but literally out of this world, and it seems to be final. She is high up above our earth, looking down, and there is a shocking sense associated with that as so few human beings have ever left our world to look back on it. There is a disconnection from what is common, known. I am reminded of The Overview Effect, the very real psychological and cognitive shift experienced by astronauts and cosmonauts—anyone who has left the planet and gone a sufficient distance to look back and perceive our planet not as a familiar home, but as a tiny, fragile ball, barely protected by a thin membrane of atmosphere. This awed feeling is described as one of ultimate compassion and understanding of the imperative to preserve and safeguard the planet.

After the NASA samples, we join our narrator floating in space like the Star Child in “2001: A Space Odyssey,” of the earth, but no longer attached to it, in fact freed from it. The tether has been cut. She is detached from her life and its meaning: there is an innocent, bemused approach as she plays a little game. She is so far from home, she can hold up one hand and block the planet from her field of vision—the earth is a toy. And we shift place, time, and point of view (as Kate so often does in her music) to our narrator driving home in a car at night, looking up at the sky, her loved one asleep on the seat beside her (a sweet, gentle, highly cinematic image, and all the more moving when we understand where our narrator currently is and the loss ahead), when she sees something bright streak across the sky. As she watches it shoot through the stars, she sings, amazed, “Just look at it go!” And what is “it?” Shooting star? Satellite? Space shuttle? A “little light?” If all time is simultaneous, has she glimpsed her own soul shooting past the planet? It is her own little light, a mind-boggling and heartbreaking idea—the cry in her voice when she sings this line indicates that she understands the meaning of this object, and its finality.

At this point, something very unexpected happens. An ethereal, arresting male choir sing a passage based on a traditional Georgian folk song from the Kakhetian region called “Tsintskaro.” It is a shocking transition, one that makes us hold our breath so as not to disturb this sudden, delicate, transcendent moment. Kate on the men’s chorus: “They really are meant to symbolize the great sense of loss, of weakness, at reaching a point where you can accept, at last, that everything can change.”

Our narrator, in full Overview Effect at this point, watches storms form and move to threaten the lives she sees below. She cries out to them in vain, all of them, the sailors, life-savers, cruisers, fishermen, anyone on or near the sea, to protect themselves. We hear in this section a few of the Irish instruments, bringing in echoes of meaning from the previous song “Jig of Life.” Here I am reminded of the idea of the Asian goddess Kuan-Yin, or the Buddhist idea of a Bodhisattva, a human who has attained ultimate awareness (Buddhahood) but motivated by compassion, refuses to leave this plane of reality for the benefit of all sentient beings. Our narrator, moved by the end of her own life, is now able to perceive the ephemeral nature of all creation. Everyone can be exposed to danger, everyone can suffer, everyone can—and will—die. This truth is universal. But she is unable to prevent or stop this truth. No one can.

She then sings a passage that is full of several meanings. She says she was there at the birth, out of the cloudburst, the head of the tempest. This could be the storm that took her, or it could be, from her newly widened perspective of awareness, the start of life itself, the start of the universe. We were all there, we are all made of the matter from a singularity—we are all star dust. The murderer of calm is this physical reality itself. All that is born must die. Entropy exists. She understands this and cries out, “J’accuse.” Hence the ultimate compassion for this tiny little blue ball.

The piece ends with whale song, sounds of radar, and a very mysterious, arcane passage spoken in German which, when translated into English, means “Deeper, deeper, somewhere in the deep there is a light.” In German, the word “tief” can also mean “profound,” and I am reminded of the Latin phrase at the beginning of the Christian Psalm 130 “De profundis clamavi ad te:” “out of the depths I cry out to you.” In the depths of sorrow, in the endless well of suffering, there is a light. Compassion is the light. ❞

via: (x)

[gullemec]

Invisible Smoke

Golden Ruin - Chapter One

series masterlist ao3

Pairing: Billy Butcher x f!reader

Summary: Six months after the destruction of CytoGenix, the Boys are back and better than ever. Well... for the most part.

Warnings: reader experiences a panic attack, discussions of PTSD/trauma, mild smut, angst, happily ever after isn't so happy :(

Please let me know if I missed any TWs <3

WC: 7.1k

A/N: Hello and welcome to Golden Cage's sequel series! This has been percolating in my mind since I finished writing Golden Cage (which, for context, was in summer 2024 lol). I'm so excited to pick up where we left off and see what these nerds get up to <3

You stroll down the sunlit sidewalk, your sneakers tapping a steady rhythm against the concrete.

The air hums with the familiar symphony of the city, the honking cabs and chatter of passerby and rumble of the subway beneath your feet like a chorus. Warm rays of light filter through the gaps between towering buildings, dappling your cheeks in fleeting patterns that feel almost like a blessing from the city itself.

A city that is finally starting to feel like home.

As you turn onto 5th Avenue, your gaze lifts instinctively, drawn to the familiar sight ahead. There it is. The Flatiron building, with its iconic triangular frame slicing sharply through the crystalline blue sky. It stands proud and defiant amidst the bustling world below, like the bow of a grand ship cutting through turbulent waters.

The sight is a balm, a touchstone amidst chaos. No matter how many times you walk this path, the comfort it brings never wanes. It’s more than just a building to you now, it’s a symbol. A reminder that in a world teetering on the edge of collapse, some things can still stand tall, steadfast, unshaken.

You weave through the sea of Manhattanites, dodging tourists with cameras and businesspeople glued to their phones. As you approach the Flatiron, you take a moment to admire its beauty and grandeur, the way it stands out against the myriad of skyscrapers and office buildings surrounding it. The city buzzes with its usual frenetic energy, but you’ve learned how to flow with it, like water finding its way around rocks.

You heave open the heavy front door and quickly rush up the stairs to your new office. 

After months of covert negotiations, Butcher had finagled the use of the abandoned Greywal & Co. Import & Export offices on the top floor, bartered as a perk of your group joining the Bureau of Superhuman Affairs as contractors. It's a marked improvement from your previous hideout, the grimy laundromat basement with leaking pipes and the lingering smell of detergent. You still wake up sometimes with phantom memories of that dark, damp space where everything in your life had started to unravel.

Pushing open the glass door to the office space, the faint creak of old hinges announces your arrival. Inside, the room is alive with the energy of preparation. Maps and photographs plaster the walls, red strings connecting points like veins in a pulsing network. Desks are buried under a mess of takeout cartons, coffee-stained papers, and gear waiting to be packed. Monitors hum softly, their screens glowing with encrypted data streams.

Sunlight filters through the arched windows, casting the space in a hazy golden glow that feels almost serene, if not for the tension crackling in the air like static.

The chatter dies instantly as all eyes snap to you.

Awesome. You’re late, again.

You raise a hand in apology, still slightly out of breath from your brisk walk. “Sorry, sorry! Came as soon as I got your text.”

Mallory’s eyebrow arches in that signature expression of disapproval that somehow stings worse than any verbal reprimand. Her silence weighs heavy in the room, a scolding in and of itself.

Butcher’s eyes meet yours across the room, his expression unreadable. He offers you a curt nod, which you return with a small smile. You round the corner of his desk and perch yourself on its edge. His presence is an anchor, steadying you against the rising tide of anxiety.

Mallory rises from her seat, and the air seems to shift. The room quiets further, everyone instinctively straightening as her commanding voice cuts through the stillness.

“We intercepted intel about a meeting at the Russian consulate tomorrow morning,” she begins, her tone clipped and precise. “Vought executives are holding a private session with Russian diplomats. No press. No fanfare. Just whispers.”

She pauses, her gaze sweeping the room, letting the weight of her words settle. “Whatever they’re planning, it’s big. We need ears in that room.”

A delicious tingle of anticipation races down your spine. Finally.

“How big we talkin’ here?” Butcher drawls, leaning back in his chair with the practiced ease of someone who’s seen far too much.

“This could tie into the superweapon rumors we’ve been tracking,” Mallory replies, her voice razor-sharp. “The overseas labs, the classified experiments… This meeting might give us the proof we need to shut it all down. We can’t afford to let this slip.”

You glance around the room, catching the flicker of renewed determination in everyone’s eyes. For months, the Boys have been chasing shadows, piecing together fragments of a puzzle no one seems able to solve. A superweapon, supposedly capable of destroying Homelander. An opportunity like this could blow it all wide open. 

Mallory’s gaze zeroes in on you, sharp and unyielding. “You and Hughie are on this.”

The spark of excitement sputters into an icy stab of dread.

“Wait, what?” Hughie blurts, his voice pitching upward. “You mean us? Like, sneaking into the consulate us? That’s… uh… not exactly my strong suit.”

“I’m not asking you to steal state secrets,” Mallory replies, her tone cutting. “You’re going in as caterers. Plant a recording device, listen in, and get out. Keep your heads down, and no one will notice you.”

“Right, because that always works out great for us…” Hughie mutters, earning a smirk from Frenchie.

You feel the familiar grip of doubt creeping up your spine. This is no small task. It’s the kind of mission where a single misstep could mean disaster. It’s been ages since the Boys had a lead this good, and Mallory wants you on this. Anxiety creeps in at the edges of your mind, that old familiar feeling of inadequacy paying you an unwelcome visit. Your father may be gone, but his presence left a permanent etching in your brain, a voice that tells you to make yourself small and to shrink away from a challenge. 

You shake it off. You refuse to let that voice win.

“We can do this,” you say, injecting steel into your voice. “No one’s going to suspect a couple of random caterers. I’ve been practicing. I can handle it.”

Butcher’s dark laugh cuts through the room, low and biting.

“Practicing, eh?” he sneers. “Need I remind you what happened the last time you and Hughie tried goin’ incognito? Love, this ain’t amateur hour. You’re walkin’ into a bloody nest of Vought execs who’d gut you the moment they sniff something’s off.”

Your stomach twists as memories flash. The acrid scent of burning metal, the heat at your back as Homelander’s laser eyes chased you out of the laboratory. The thrum of your heart in your chest as you practically dragged Hughie out of the building. The hours spent taking subway trains across town to shake your tail. 

But that was months ago. That was your first real mission. You’ve learned. You’ve grown. No one gets to underestimate you, not anymore. 

“I know what’s at stake,” you snap, meeting Butcher’s gaze head-on. “I’m not going to screw this up.”

His jaw tightens, concern flickering in his eyes. “I don’t like the idea of you gettin’ mixed up in all of this. Your arm’s barely healed.”

You gape at him. “My cast has been off for months!”

“That don’t mean it’s healed!” he retorts, exasperated.

You know he's doing this out of concern, and you know he's seen enough shit in his time to know exactly how dangerous something like this could be. He’s seen more than his fair share of bloody messes and catastrophic endings to missions that went sideways. He knows just how quickly things can spiral, how one wrong move can turn a carefully laid plan into a disaster. But for all his cynicism, he also knows you, what you’ve been through, what you’ve survived, what you’re capable of now.

In the six months since your father’s body became a bomb, detonating CytoGenix Headquarters and reducing it to a smoldering pile of rubble, your condition has been rather… delicate. Concussions, fractured bones, months of physical therapy. Your body had taken a beating, and your mind hadn’t fared much better. But as soon as the cast came off and the doctor cleared you of the worst of it, you were ready to throw yourself back into the action. Ready to stop sitting on the sidelines and start making a difference again.

That was, of course, until you ventured out on your first mission post-explosion. It had been simple, low-stakes, meant to ease you back into things. But nothing is ever truly that simple for you, is it?

~~~

The warehouse loomed in the distance, its corrugated metal exterior streaked with rust and grime. You adjusted your binoculars, squinting through the rain-specked windshield of your car. From your vantage point, parked a block away, you had a clear view of the loading dock. Two men in coveralls were hauling crates onto a forklift, their movements unhurried.

Mallory’s intel had led you here, a warehouse allegedly housing contraband Compound V, tucked away in the Brooklyn Navy Yard. It wasn’t a complex mission. Snap photos of the crates, jot down delivery times, and get out before anyone so much as noticed your shadow.

Observe and report, Butcher had said. No heroics, no improvising. Simple, yeah?

His tone had been sharp, but there had been something else beneath it. A hesitation he hadn't quite managed to mask.

You’d nodded, eager to prove yourself. This was your first mission since the explosion at CytoGenix, since the weeks of recovery spent with a cast on your arm and a pounding ache in your skull. The approval from the doctor had been your ticket out of the purgatory of desk work and stakeouts. You were desperate for something real, no matter how small. 

This was your chance to show Mallory, Butcher, and the Boys, and yourself, that you could still do this.

Grabbing your camera, you slipped out of the car, staying low as you crept toward the chain-link fence. Rain pattered softly against your jacket, the cold seeping into your skin. You found a gap in the fence and ducked through, careful not to snag your clothes on the jagged edges.

The air near the warehouse smelled damp and metallic, tinged with the sweet scent of oil. You settled behind a stack of pallets, raising the camera to your eye. Through the lens, you could see the workers more clearly now, their faces obscured by hoods. One of them pried open a crate with a crowbar, revealing rows of glowing blue vials.

Bingo.

You snapped a few photos, your finger steady on the shutter. It felt good to be back in the field, to have a purpose again. You pressed the button on your earpiece. “Got visual confirmation. Looks like a couple hundred vials. Snapped a few shots.”

Butcher’s voice crackled in your ear. “Good. Keep eyes on ‘em. Let me know when they’re done unloading.”

“Roger that,” you murmured.

You were about to shift for a better angle when it happened.

A loud bang echoed from inside the warehouse, sharp and sudden. You flinched, the sound slicing through the air like a gunshot. It wasn’t a weapon, just a crate toppling over, but the noise slammed into you like a freight train.

Your breath hitched, your vision narrowing as the world around you dissolved. The damp chill of the rain vanished, replaced by searing heat. You were back in the stairwell at CytoGenix, the walls trembling with the force of the explosion. The acrid stench of burning plastic filled your nose. Your body hit the wall with a sickening crack, pain exploding in your skull. You could hear Monica’s screams, the chaos, the blaring alarm—

Your chest tightened, and you clawed at your jacket, desperate for air. The camera slipped from your hands, clattering to the ground. Somewhere in the distance, Butcher’s voice barked in your earpiece, but it was drowned out by the deafening roar of your heartbeat.

You stumbled backward, your legs giving way as you pressed yourself against the cold metal of a shipping container. The rain had soaked through your clothes, but you barely felt it.

Breathe, you told yourself. Just breathe. But the air wouldn’t come.

The earpiece crackled again. “Oi, talk to me. What’s going on?” Butcher’s voice was sharp now, threaded with concern. When you didn’t respond, he cursed under his breath.

You don’t know how much time you spent there, head between your knees, chest heaving, rain pelting your crumpled form, before heavy boots thudded against the ground nearby. You barely registered the figure crouching in front of you until his hand gripped your shoulder, firm and steady.

“Hey.” Butcher’s voice cut through the haze, low and commanding. “Look at me.”

You blinked, your gaze snapping to his. His dark eyes were steady, pinning you in place. He moved his hand from your shoulder to your wrist, pressing it against his chest.

“Feel that?” he said. His heartbeat was slow and deliberate, a metronome against your racing pulse. “Breathe with me. In through your nose, yeah? Nice and slow. Come on.”

Your breaths were shallow and ragged, but you tried to match his rhythm. In, out. In, out. The pressure in your chest began to ease, the roaring in your ears fading to a dull hum.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his tone softer now. “You’re alright. You’re here.”

The warehouse came back into focus. The rain dripping off the container, the distant rumble of a forklift. You were shaking, but the world had stopped spinning.

“I—” Your voice cracked, barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Butcher cut you off, his grip tightening on your wrist. “Don’t start with that. This ain’t about being sorry. You’re human, yeah? You’ve been through hell. This shit’s gonna happen.”

He released your wrist, standing and extending a hand to you. “Now, come on. Let’s get you out of this pisshole.”

You hesitated, glancing back at the warehouse. “But the mission—”

“Forget the bloody mission,” he snapped. “We’ve got what we need. Right now, you’re my priority.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. You took his hand, letting him haul you to your feet. His grip was firm, grounding.

As the two of you walked back to the van, Butcher kept a hand on your shoulder, a silent reassurance.

“You kept your head longer than most would’ve,” he said gruffly as you climbed into the passenger seat. “That takes guts. It’ll come back to you.”

His words stayed with you long after the mission, but so did the moment itself, the memory of panic and failure, the echo of your father’s voice whispering in the dark, reminding you of all the ways you didn’t measure up.

~~~

After that, Butcher made it his personal mission to keep you permanently benched. He relegated you to desk work, poring over files and surveillance footage, or staking out low-risk locations that barely required you to leave the van. At first, you told yourself it was temporary, that it was just his way of being cautious. But as the weeks turned into months, the frustration grew.

It wasn’t just about the boredom for you. It was the feeling of being underestimated, of having to prove yourself all over again. You’d fought tooth and nail to stand shoulder to shoulder with this team, to earn their trust and respect. And yet, here you were, still fighting the whispers of doubt, both theirs and your own.

But none of that matters right now. This mission is yours, and you’re not about to let anyone, least of all Butcher, doubt you again.

“She’ll be fine,” Frenchie interjects, breaking the tension with his usual easy charm. His warm smile crinkles the corners of his eyes as he looks at you. “Ma poupette has the brains for this. Just remember, roll with the punches, eh?”

You raise your eyebrows at Butcher, as if to say See?

Butcher doesn’t respond, his jaw tightening as he glances away. His silence says everything.

Mallory steps forward, her commanding presence cutting through the tension like a knife. Her voice is sharp and no-nonsense. “This is not a debate,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You two are handling this. This is very straightforward. Plant a listening device, get the intel, and get out.”

She pauses, letting her words settle before continuing. “I’ll have a van on standby if things go sideways, but the goal is to keep this quiet. No one notices you, no one remembers you. Understand?”

Her piercing gaze lands on you, heavy with expectation. “I trust you can handle it,” she says, her tone softening just enough to let you know she means it.

A flicker of pride warms your chest, solidifying into determination. You nod, your chin lifting as you steel yourself for what’s ahead.

Mallory’s gaze shifts to Butcher, sharp as a blade. “But you need to trust each other. That’s the only way this works.”

Butcher exhales sharply, clearly biting back a retort. He glances at you, something unspoken passing between you, a grudging respect, maybe, or a flicker of belief he doesn’t know how to voice.

You turn to Hughie, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, his nerves written all over his face. But after a moment, he nods back at you, his lips curving into a weak but genuine smile.

In the months since Mallory’s return, you’d found yourself yearning for her approval with an intensity that surprised even you. Her presence cast a long shadow, and you were keenly aware of how she had sized you up on that first night in your apartment. The disapproval in her sharp gaze had been palpable, cutting deeper than you cared to admit. Could you blame her, though?

After years spent in the shadows, having walked away from the Supe-killing squad she’d built with blood and iron, Mallory had been dragged back into the fray. All because she’d heard whispers about the Boys regrouping, more recklessly than ever, in her view, and, worst of all, that they’d let you, the daughter of a Vought crony, into their ranks. If you were her, you’d probably have dragged yourself out of retirement, too.

Though the team had rallied around you, defending your place in the group with fervor, it hadn’t stopped the wildfire of doubt that had sparked in your chest from Mallory’s initial appraisal of you. You understood the value you’d brought in those early days. When CytoGenix was still standing, when your father was alive, when Monica was pulling the strings, you’d offered something no one else could: inside intel. You’d been a bridge to a world the Boys couldn’t otherwise touch.

But now?

With CytoGenix in ruins, Monica gone, and your father’s legacy reduced to nothing more than ash and regret, what did you have left to give? Sure, there was the six-figure inheritance, a hollow consolation prize if there ever was one, but it wasn’t as if money meant much in this line of work. Money wasn’t what this team needed, wasn’t what earned respect here. The voice of self-doubt, ever persistent, had made itself at home during those early months, whispering venom in your ear. 

You’re a liability. A loose end. They don’t need you anymore. You’ve outlived your usefulness.

Your teammates had tried to drown out that voice. Annie, now your closest friend, spoke about you like you hung the fucking moon. Frenchie, with his gentle reassurances, had told you time and again that you belonged. MM had treated you with the same quiet respect and faith he gave to everyone he trusted. Hughie, loyal to a fault, never wavered in his belief that you were part of the team. Even Kimiko, in her own way, had made it clear that she valued you.

And yet, in the still moments, when the adrenaline wore off, when the noise of missions and plans faded, you couldn’t help but wonder. What am I doing here? What do I bring to the table?

Everyone else had a clear role, a purpose that tethered them to the group. Butcher was the leader, the strategist, the one who saw the big picture even when it was dark and bloody. MM was the anchor, the meticulous planner who kept things running smoothly. Frenchie was the wildcard, a fixer with a knack for making the impossible possible. Kimiko was the muscle, the silent force of nature. Annie had her connections to Vought, her inside knowledge of the system they were trying to tear down. Even Hughie, awkward and unassuming as he could be, had carved out his place as the team’s moral compass.

And you?

What were you?

But now, you think, this is your moment. This is your chance to prove, not just to Mallory but to yourself, that you’re more than a liability or a loose end.

No more doubts. No more underestimations. No more living in the shadow of what you’ve lost.

As the meeting begins to wind down, Mallory’s orders echo in your mind. Her voice had been calm, clipped, and deliberate, leaving no room for questions. It left plenty of room for doubt, though. Across the room, you catch her watching you again, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her expression is as unreadable as ever, a mask of cool indifference that offers no clues. Still, there’s something in the slight tilt of her head, the narrow set of her eyes. Displeasure? Doubt? Maybe both.

The weight of her gaze feels heavier than it should, a silent challenge you can’t shake.

Your thoughts are interrupted as Butcher slides onto the desk beside you, the wood creaking under his weight. The casualness of the action is belied by the intensity in his expression. He leans in close, his voice low but gruff, tinged with an edge of warning.

“Listen,” he says, his dark eyes boring into yours. “I don’t give a toss what Mallory says. You get even a whiff of trouble, you pull the plug and get the hell out. Ain’t nothing in that room worth your neck, you hear me?”

The protective note in his tone catches you off guard, as it often does. Beneath the layers of cynicism, anger, and bravado that make up Butcher, there’s a thread of something softer, something he’ll never admit to. These rare moments of vulnerability always take you by surprise, a glimpse of the man beneath the scars. Normally, you’d relish it, store it away like a secret. But this time, it feels tainted.

Tainted by Mallory’s gaze, still burning a hole into your back. Tainted by the ever-present question of whether you even deserve to be here, let alone trusted with this mission.Tainted by the way his desire to protect you feels inhibiting.

You nod, though the knot in your chest tightens. Your eyes flicker back to Mallory, who hasn’t moved, her stance as rigid as her judgment. Is it disapproval that’s carved into her features? Or is it concern? The two blur together in your mind, indistinguishable from the spotlight of her scrutiny.

“I hear you,” you say, turning back to Butcher. Your voice is steadier than you feel, the words forced past the lump in your throat. “But I’ve got this.”

Butcher lets out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Right,” he mutters, his tone teetering between skepticism and reluctant admiration. “Guess we’ll see.”

For a moment, the air between you feels heavy with unspoken words. There’s something he wants to say, something more than the gruff warnings and the veiled concern. But he doesn’t, and you know he won’t. That’s not who Butcher is.

As the others begin to filter out, the tension in the room doesn’t dissipate. It lingers, thick and suffocating, clinging to the walls like a stubborn fog. Mallory remains rooted in place, her gaze unwavering, as though she’s waiting for something. For you to crack, perhaps, or to prove you’re worth the risk she’s taking.

You take a breath and straighten your shoulders, forcing the tension out of your body. It’s an effort to lift your chin and meet her eyes, but you do. You hold her gaze, refusing to flinch under the weight of her scrutiny. You know what she sees when she looks at you. A wild card, a question mark, someone with everything to prove and too much to lose.

But you won’t falter. Not this time.

This is your moment. Your chance to silence the doubts. Hers, Butcher’s, and most importantly, your own.

This time, you’ll prove you belong.

~~~

The faint smell of garlic and onions hit your nose as you step into your kitchen, the sizzle of oil in the pan filling the otherwise quiet apartment. Butcher stands by the stove, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder like he owns the place.

You lean against the doorway, watching him work. It’s strange, seeing him like this. The man who’d faced down Supes without a second thought, who carried enough emotional baggage to rival the Titanic, now stood in your kitchen, cooking pasta like some scene out of a rom-com.

“Didn’t know you could cook,” you tease, folding your arms across your chest.

Butcher doesn’t look up, but a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t look so shocked. I ain’t completely useless, y’know.”

“I think Frenchie’s the one who usually takes over the kitchen,” you say, stepping closer and glancing at the array of ingredients he’d gathered. Garlic bread, a fresh block of Parmesan, and… is that basil? “But this? This is impressive. I might let you stick around.”

“Generous of you,” he mutters, though there was a warmth in his tone.

You grab a glass from the cabinet and pour yourself some wine, the familiar hum of domesticity wrapping around you like a well-worn blanket. The scene feels so out of place. Butcher standing in your kitchen, the two of you sharing a quiet evening after the intensity of Mallory’s briefing. It’s almost too peaceful, too fragile, as if the world outside these walls doesn't exist.

“How long has it been since you cooked for someone?” you ask, leaning on the counter beside him.

He gives a short laugh, but it lacks any real humor. “Long enough. Don’t keep count, love. What about you? Last meal you had that wasn’t takeout?”

You shrug. “Probably the last time Frenchie decided to experiment with some weird fusion dish. Couldn’t even tell you what it was, but it was damn good.”

He turns off the burner, drains the pasta, and starts plating. The silence stretches as you watch him, the usual guardedness in his expression softening just enough to make you wonder what’s going on in his head.

“Thanks for this,” you say quietly, gesturing to the meal.

He hands you a plate and nods toward the table. “Yeah, well. Figured you could use a proper meal before the big day.”

Ah, there it is. The tension that’s been simmering since the briefing.

You sit down across from him, swirling the pasta on your fork. “You’re worried.”

He doesn’t answer right away, focusing instead on his own plate. Finally, he leans back in his chair, fixing you with a look that’s equal parts exasperation and concern. “Damn right, I’m worried. This gig’s a bloody powder keg, and you’re walking straight into it.”

“I can handle it,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ve been waiting for something like this. A chance to prove I’m not just—”

“Not just what?” he interrupts, setting his fork down.

You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. Not just dead weight. Not just some liability Mallory’s tolerating because of what I used to know.

“Nothing,” you mutter, looking away. “I just mean I’m ready. My arm’s fine, my head’s fine, and I’ve been practicing my breathing. I know what I’m doing.”

Butcher lets out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re fine, yeah. But this ain’t the same as sneakin’ round some empty warehouse or trailing some low-level Supe. One wrong move tomorrow, and you’re dead. Or worse.”

“Worse?” you echo, raising an eyebrow.

“You know what they’d do if they caught you. Vought don’t play fair, love. Never have.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, but you square your shoulders. “You think I don’t know that? I’m not an idiot, Butcher. Did you already forget everything I did to stop Vought from getting V2? You don’t get to keep sidelining me just because you’re scared I might—”

“Because I care about you?” The words burst out of him, sharp and raw.

You blink, startled into silence.

He shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “I’ve seen enough people I care about end up in the ground. I ain’t gonna let that happen to you.”

Your chest tightens, frustration bubbling up. “So what? You’re just gonna wrap me in bubble wrap and keep me locked up in the van while everyone else takes risks? That’s not fair, Butcher. I’m part of this team, whether you like it or not.”

“I do like it,” he shoots back, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “I do. You just… You scare the shit out of me, is all.”

“Okay,” you sigh, annoyance heavy in your voice. “Just… keep it to yourself. I don’t need you psyching me out.”

The air between you is heavy, charged with the weight of everything unsaid.

The silence stretches as you eat, both of you locked in a stalemate neither of you wanted to win. Finally, he stands, picking up the empty plates and carrying them to the sink. His back is to you, his shoulders tense.

“Look,” he says, his voice low, “I know you want to prove yourself. And maybe you’re ready. But you’ll forgive me if I ain’t in a rush to see you get yourself killed.”

You stand, walking up behind him but stopping short of touching him. “I’m not going to die, Butcher. I’ve got too much to live for.”

He turns his head slightly, just enough to glance at you out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice almost too quiet to hear. “You better.”

When you fall into bed together later, Butcher moves with a deliberate tenderness that takes your breath away. There’s no rush in the way he touches you at first, no sharp edges to his usual brusque demeanor. His calloused hands skim your skin like he’s trying to memorize every curve, every scar, every part of you that makes you who you are. Each touch carries a message, unspoken but crystal clear. You’re all I think about.

His hands settle on your hips, strong but careful, pulling you closer as though the mere idea of distance between you is unbearable. When he holds you in his arms, every knot of tension in your body begins to unwind. There’s no room for doubt, no space to overthink the unanswered questions or the simmering tension that has been building between you for months. In his embrace, you hear the words he’s too guarded to say. I’ll keep you safe. It’s all I can do.

At first, his movements are slow and steady, as though he’s afraid to break you. His lips graze your collarbone, lingering there with a reverence that almost undoes you. His gaze locks on yours, dark and searching, and for a moment, you swear he’s looking right into your soul. Every kiss, every brush of his fingertips across your skin is a vow, a reassurance. You’re here. You’re mine.

But then something shifts. What starts as gentleness deepens into urgency, his movements growing frantic, almost desperate. His breathing becomes heavier, his grip tighter, as though holding you isn’t enough, he needs to anchor himself in you, to feel you in every way possible. There’s a plea in the way his lips press harder against yours, a tremor in the way he whispers your name, hoarse and unsteady. Don’t leave me.

His eyes meet yours again, and this time they’re blazing with something raw, something unguarded. It’s as though every wall he’s built around himself has come crashing down, leaving him exposed and vulnerable in a way that Butcher rarely allows himself to be. What he can’t bring himself to put into words, he pours into his touch, his kiss, the way his body moves against yours. Every pull, every grasp, every shuddering breath screams what he can’t say aloud. Mine. Mine. Mine.

And yet, there’s no possessiveness in it, no trace of dominance. It’s need. Pure, aching need. The need to protect, to keep you close, to show you just how much you mean to him, in the only way he knows how. In his arms, you don’t feel claimed or conquered; you feel seen, cherished, adored. His actions speak louder than any declaration ever could, telling you everything he keeps locked behind his gruff exterior. You’re the only thing in this godforsaken world that I can’t lose.

By the time you collapse together, tangled and breathless, his arms wrap around you with a firmness that feels like a promise. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

For a long while, neither of you says a word. 

Maybe you don’t need to. 

~~~

The air inside the office feels heavier at night. The soft hum of the city seeps through the windows, but the sharp glow of the desk lamp casts an artificial stillness over the room. Mallory sits behind the desk, papers meticulously stacked in front of her, a pen twirling absentmindedly between her fingers. 

You have a thick manila envelope tucked under your arm, stuffed with building schematics for the Russian consulate, profiles on the delegates Mallory expects to be present, and clear instructions on when and where to place the bugs. Hell, she even included the catering menus in case either of you were stopped and asked questions about the food. She’s being thorough, but it only serves to increase your apprehension. She wouldn’t be going this far if this mission’s success wasn’t absolutely crucial.

Mallory begins to gather up the papers on her desk. “You’ve got the details. You and Hughie should run through them a few more times tonight. You only get one shot at this, and I don’t need to remind you what’s at stake.”

You glance around, expecting Hughie to walk in any moment. “So... where’s Hughie? I thought we were going over the plan together.”

Mallory doesn’t look up immediately, her pen pausing mid-spin. Then she meets your gaze, her expression unreadable but edged with purpose. “I didn’t invite Hughie.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Oh? Why?”

“Because that’s not the only reason I wanted to talk to you,” she says, her voice even.

You tilt your head, folding your arms as curiosity flickers to life. “Alright. What’s this about, then?”

She sets the pen down deliberately, her focus now fully on you. “It’s about Butcher.”

The name lands like a stone in your stomach. You try to keep your voice steady. “What about him?”

Mallory leans forward slightly, resting her elbows on the desk. Her eyes harden, not with anger, but with something sharper. Concern wrapped in steel. “He’s dangerous. You know that, don’t you? He’s a man willing to burn the world down to protect the people he loves. And he’ll burn himself down, too, if it comes to it. You know what he did after Becca died.”

Your jaw tightens instinctively. “Butcher’s been through hell. I don’t think anyone here can blame him for the choices he made after that. The choices you gave him.”

Mallory exhales deeply, leaning back in her chair as if to give you space to process her words. “I’m not blaming him. I’m warning you. That man has a black hole where his sense of self-preservation should be. And if you get too close, you’ll get pulled into it. Just... be careful.”

Her words hang in the air, tightening around you like a noose. You shift on your feet, crossing your arms tighter as a defensive barrier. “Why are you telling me this?”

Mallory’s gaze softens ever so slightly, though her tone remains firm. “Because I don’t want to deal with the consequences of his actions if anything were to happen to you.”

“It’s not like that between us,” you reply quickly, the words coming out more defensive than you’d intended.

She raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Isn’t it? I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And the way you look at him.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “I mean... we care about each other, sure. But he doesn’t—he doesn’t love me.”

Mallory’s lips press into a thin line, her expression unreadable. “William Butcher is not the most... eloquent man I’ve ever met. He doesn’t always know how to express his feelings. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel them. But feelings or not, you deserve to know where you stand. Especially if you’re going to stick around for this fight. Because if he won’t protect you the way you deserve, you’ll have to protect yourself.”

You glance away, her words striking a nerve you hadn’t fully acknowledged before.

“Alright,” you mutter, more to break the silence than to agree with her. “Thanks for the advice, Mallory.”

Her voice stops you as you turn to leave. “Just remember, Butcher doesn’t stop. Not until he’s got what he wants. And sometimes, that’s the most dangerous kind of love.”

You don’t look back. The words follow you anyway, clinging to you as you walk out into the night.

~~~

The night feels unusually quiet, the soft hum of the city muffled by the walls of your apartment. You sit on the edge of your bed, staring at the faint reflection of yourself in the window, the lights of the city glittering in the distance. Mallory’s words echo in your mind, relentless and insistent.

He’s dangerous. That man has a black hole where his sense of self-preservation should be, and if you get too close, you’ll get pulled into it. 

You exhale shakily, running a hand through your hair as you turn the thought over and over in your mind. You’ve always known Butcher was complicated, that he was damaged in ways you may never fully understand. But isn’t that part of what drew you to him? 

He’s fiercely loyal, to the point of self-destruction. He would do anything for the people he cares about, throw himself into danger without hesitation, take on battles that seem impossible, all because he refuses to let anyone else suffer if he can help it. There’s something magnetic about that kind of conviction, something that made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t felt in years. And when Butcher sets his mind to something, there’s no stopping him. That determination, that fire, it’s intoxicating to be around. It makes you believe he could conquer anything, even the impossible.

But now you see how those same qualities twist in the wrong light. That loyalty turning into obsession, that willingness to protect becoming vengeance. The single-minded determination you once admired, is now a blade that cuts through everything in its path, leaving those closest to him bleeding in its wake. How many people has he hurt without even realizing it? How many more will he hurt if he keeps barreling down this road, blinded by the need for revenge?

You think about the destruction he leaves behind, how he carries that chaos like a storm cloud over his head, and how sometimes, standing next to him, you feel like you’re drowning in it.

And yet, there’s another side to him. A side you don’t think anyone else has seen in a very long time. The way he softens when it’s just the two of you, the way his voice loses its edge, the way he looks at you like you’re the one thing in the world that doesn’t hurt him. You’ve caught glimpses of the man beneath the armor in the gentle way he brushes your hair out of your face, the rare moments of vulnerability when he lets his guard down and tells you things you know he’s never told anyone else.

It’s that softness that keeps you here, keeps you tethered to him despite everything. You know how long it’s been since anyone has seen that side of him. You know how much it took for him to let you in, even just a little. And it feels good—God, it feels so good—to be the one person who gets to see him like that.

But then doubt creeps in, insidious and familiar, a voice whispering in the back of your mind. Is it enough? Is this enough?

You wonder if you’re fooling yourself, if you’re clinging to the idea of what your relationship could be instead of what it actually is. You think of Becca, the shadow she casts over everything, and you can’t help but ask yourself… Am I just filling a void that he doesn’t know how to let go of?

Your chest tightens at the thought. You don’t know where you stand with him, and truthfully, you never have. You’ve never defined what this is between you, never talked about it, never said I love you. And maybe that’s because he doesn’t feel the same way. Maybe he doesn’t know how to feel that way about anyone anymore.

The worst part is, you’re not sure you’d blame him if that were true. He’s been through so much, lost so much, and you know how hard it is for him to let himself care about anything at all. 

It doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.

You bury your face in your hands, Mallory’s words haunting you again. You deserve to know where you stand. Because if he won’t protect you the way you deserve, you’ll have to protect yourself.

You can’t tell if you’re more scared of losing him or of admitting that maybe you already have. Maybe you never really had him to begin with.

The thought settles like a weight in your chest. For the first time, you find yourself wondering if you made a mistake, if involving yourself with someone like Butcher was always destined to end this way. And as the doubt swirls and tightens around you, the question that lingers in your mind feels like it has no answer.

Do I stay? Or do I walk away before I lose myself completely?

I will have a taglist for this series, just lmk if you want to be added :)

[rasqberrypetalpostcards]

044.

romanticizing your playlist: music as a personal mythology an essay about sacred songs, memory soundtracks, and how music becomes the folklore of who we are

some songs are just songs. but some feel like spells. like diary entries you didn’t write but still feel word-for-word in your chest. like echoes from the exact moment your life cracked open, fell apart, or finally began.

we say “this is my song” as if we own it. and maybe, in a way, we do.

because music is more than background noise. it’s memory. it’s mood. it’s mythology.

your playlist isn’t just a list. it’s a map. and every song on it tells the story of who you are, who you were, and who you’re becoming.

there’s a song for every version of you

the one you listened to on the bus in eighth grade, forehead against the glass, pretending you were in a music video. the one that made you cry at 3 a.m. because the lyrics said everything you didn’t know how to tell your best friend. the one you played on repeat all summer until it was baked into your skin like sunburn.

songs don’t just soundtrack moments — they hold them. and every time you hear one again, it pulls you back. to a place. a feeling. a version of yourself you’d forgotten how to touch.

music is memory with melody. and memory is sacred.

playlists are like altars

you light a candle. you press play. you listen like you’re praying. and in that moment, the world reshapes itself around the song.

suddenly, it’s not just background music. it’s atmosphere. it’s emotional weather.

the right song can make walking feel cinematic. it can make heartbreak feel holy. it can make being alone feel like being understood.

because music gets it. sometimes, more than people do.

every song you love is a kind of self-portrait

not always because of the lyrics. sometimes it’s just the sound. the texture. the tone.

something about the way that bass line hits. something about how the chorus aches a little. something about how it feels like falling in love, or like trying not to cry in public, or like wanting more than what the world is giving you.

and you don’t always know why. you just know it’s yours.

music doesn’t have to make sense to feel true. you don’t have to explain why you hit replay.

some songs just feel like home.

building a playlist is a deeply personal ritual

you’re not just collecting sounds. you’re curating versions of yourself. you’re writing mythology through melody.

this is the “i’m healing” playlist. this is the “i’m not over it yet” playlist. this is the “i’m in love with someone who will never know” playlist.

it’s not performative. it’s not for anyone else.

it’s your own private radio station. your own soft shrine of feelings.

and when you need to remember who you are — or who you were — you go back to it. you press play.

and it sings you home. there is romance in knowing every lyric by heart

you don’t just sing along — you live along. every line is a secret handshake with a past version of you.

“this was the breakup song.” “this was the song that made me feel okay again.” “this was the one playing when i realized i loved them.”

music isn’t linear. it loops. it lingers. and the songs you thought you outgrew? they still live in you. quietly.

they taught you something. they held you once. they don’t stop meaning things just because you’ve changed.

if anything — they mean more.

sometimes, music understands what words can’t

how do you explain the feeling of missing someone who was never really yours? how do you describe the ache of being left on read, again, and pretending it doesn’t bother you? how do you make someone understand the high of a sunny day when the world finally feels bearable again?

you don’t. you send them a song.

you say “this.” you say “listen.” you say “this is how i feel.”

because sometimes the best way to speak your truth is to sing it.

even if it’s not your voice.

your playlist is a love letter to your emotional life

you built it piece by piece. through heartbreaks, crushes, realizations, recoveries. through overthinking, through dancing alone in your room, through moments you’ll never get back.

it’s all there.

and when you feel lost — when everything is too loud or too quiet or just too much — you can go back to it.

not to escape. but to remember.

remember that you’ve survived this feeling before. remember that joy is still possible. remember that you are still here.

soundtracked. storied. sacred.

gently pinned by, R.

[ruru195]

The Song of Eufonía

The Questers—Cuphead, Bendy, Felix, Boris, and Mugman—had just finished packing up their camp when the map began to glow with that familiar otherworldly shimmer. Boris pulled it out, ears twitching, and watched as the lines shifted into new shapes. Strange letters scrolled across the parchment, swirling into a riddle that he read aloud in a hushed, awed voice:

“Where laughter plays on silver strings, And streets with endless chorus ring, Seek the town whose heart won’t age, Where music traps both bird and cage. Climb the tower, chase the tune, And there your piece shall be hewn.”

They shared a glance—equal parts thrill and dread.

Eufonía. A city rumored to be forever in celebration, never silent, all orchestrated by a single being that never seemed to grow old. It was their next stop.

When they arrived, the welcome was eerie in its perfection. The entire town burst into song at once—hundreds of voices in radiant harmony, waving flags and dancing as though this was the happiest moment of their lives.

“Awful lot of energy for... everyday,” Mugman muttered, his eyes darting around.

Felix adjusted his hat, suspicious. “Their eyes—they’re smiling, but they’re... vacant. As if they’re trapped mid-note.”

Boris shivered. “Like they’re there, but not there.”

The Questers stayed days in Eufonía, trying to locate the machine’s piece. But everywhere they searched—taverns echoing with harps, fountains spraying notes instead of water, even bakeries piping cakes in musical scales—there was no sign of it. Worse, the constant, cloying music began to gnaw at their sanity.

Cuphead finally snapped. “IF I HEAR ANOTHER STUPID MELODY—!”

Then he paused, eyes narrowing at the horizon. In the distance stood an ancient tower, its spires dark against the dusk, strange ripples of magic humming from its peak.

“Boys,” he growled, grin twisting almost maniacally, “I think I found it.”

They hurried through streets that tried to pull them back with cheerful parades. As they reached the tower, the celebrations distorted into something sinister—street lamps flickering, dancers stumbling like marionettes cut loose.

The tower was worse. Every step inside set off traps—chimes that became slicing razors, harp strings that tried to ensnare them, floors that rippled like organ pipes. But nothing stopped them from reaching the top.

At the summit stood a little girl. Her skin was pale, her eyes dark, and on her chest glowed the unmistakable shape of the music disc—half-buried into her heart. She tilted her head, curls floating as if underwater.

“You’ll take it from me?” Her voice was melodic but cracked, haunted. “Then... you’ll have to silence me first.”

Her eyes flared, and from her mouth spilled a violent, echoing song that made the very walls weep. The music ripped through them, throwing the Questers to their knees. Felix staggered up, shouting, “We have to counter it—fight song with song!”

Mugman paled. “None of us can sing like that!”

“Bendy can!” Boris said in desesperation.

Everone turned to look at Bendy hopping for him to do something.

Bendy—trembling, claw clutching his chest—lifted his head. “I... I can try.”

He took a breath and sang. At first his voice cracked—raw, fragile. But he forced it out, voice growing warmer, strong as it soared:

🎶 “I found you in a place where sorrow hid beneath the gold, A world of shining lies, a tune that’s grown too old. But I’ve been burning, golden, rising higher than your chains, I’m more than haunted echoes—I’m the storm behind your rain...” 🎶

The girl shrieked, her music battling his, notes like jagged knives. Bendy stumbled, but Mugman grabbed his shoulder, steadying him. Cuphead, scuffed and bloody, grinned fiercely. “Don’t stop now, hotshot!”

Bendy drew in another trembling breath and let it out, voice breaking into a soaring confession that glowed with life:

🎶 “So tell me now—what it sounds like when your heart breaks free? When the echoes fade, when you finally see— That the music inside you can dance without pain, I’ll hold your song close, sing it again, again...” 🎶

The girl’s melody shattered into sobs. The disc on her chest cracked, sending out a final wave of silver light that wrapped around Bendy’s hand. With a soft chime, the piece pulled free and dissolved into his palm—now safely his.

The girl collapsed, tears streaking her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ve sung for centuries, unable to stop. You’ve... set me, and my town, free.”

Below, the city went silent for the first time in living memory. Then a gentle, natural hush settled—a peace that was more beautiful than any orchestrated performance.

As they caught their breath, Boris held out the map, now glowing with script. He read aloud, voice soft:

“Where melody was prison, heart became the key, The past sings on, but forward lies the sea. You’ve freed one note, but beware what lies ahead, For shadows dance where even angels dread.”

Felix sighed, running a hand through his hair. “That’s... deeply foreboding.”

“Eh,” Cuphead chuckled, clapping Bendy on the back. “Nothing we haven’t handled before. Right, crooner?”

Bendy, cheeks still flushed from singing, only grinned shyly. “Guess we’ll find out.”

They left Eufonía behind, now a quiet, gentle place. The road still long, the machine still waiting—but with hearts a little fuller, songs a little braver, and the bond between them stronger than ever.

As they walked down the quiet road the next morning, Cuphead sidled up to Bendy, nudging him with an elbow. “Hey. Didn’t know you had a voice like that.”

Bendy’s cheeks went bright red. “W-what?”

Felix, suddenly very interested, turned around. “He’s right. Why have you never sung before? That was—actually stunning.”

Mugman joined in, eyes squinting with mock suspicion. “Yeah, devil boy. Been hiding talents from us?”

Bendy scratched his neck, embarrassed. “People used to say I sounded horrible. Laughed at me. So… I just decided only Boris could hear me. He doesn’t judge.”

Felix huffed. “Well, they were idiots. You sang beautifully.”

Cuphead threw an arm around him. “Yeah, trust me—there’s only one horrible voice in this crew and it sure isn’t yours, right Mugs?”

“HEY!” Mugman shrieked. “EXCUSE YOU?!”

The whole group burst out laughing, even Bendy hiding his grin behind a hand as Mugman shoved Cuphead playfully. The chaos of their teasing carried down the road, echoing over the hills—a reminder that even in the middle of ominous quests and haunted songs, they were still friends first. And sometimes, that was enough to conquer anything.

[shamanfox]

i. radical acceptance

i stopped arguing with the rain.

let it fall—on my hair, my plans,

my trembling grief.

i stopped fighting the broken clock,

the crack in my voice,

the way my mother never said sorry.

everything,

was exactly as it had to be.

and suddenly—

nothing was wrong.

ii. the vanishing of good and bad

i held a dying moth and felt god.

i watched a man spit venom

into his child’s face and felt god.

the veil split—

not into black and white,

but into endless shades of

“this too.”

there are no villains.

only fire learning how to wear skin.

iii. the unbearable lightness

i laughed while burying my rage.

i danced while my knees bled.

this isn’t numbness.

this is

a helium soul.

my body became a song

i could hum without clinging to the chorus.

grief floated, joy floated,

everything floated.

iv. hypersensitivity & immense peace

i felt a tree weep

three streets away.

i cried with her.

then walked home

and made tea.

the world screamed through me

and i—

i was still.

still as stone,

still as truth,

still as the center

of every wildfire.

v. the loss of identity

i looked in the mirror

and saw no one.

not a poet.

not a woman.

not a name.

just wind in the shape

of remembering.

a costume stitched in stardust.

a voice learning silence.

vi. impeccability

my tongue grew teeth

and chose not to bite.

my hands itched for reaction,

but found reverence instead.

i no longer spoke to be heard,

but to honor.

to touch the air

with only clean fire.

vii. the end of seeking

i burned all the maps.

let the compass rust.

the road never led to god.

god was the dust,

the stumble,

the pause.

i stopped running

and the finish line vanished.

there was only here.

and here—

was everything.

and now?

i wear the world like a robe.

i hold sorrow like a child.

i do the dishes like a monk.

and when the sun touches my face,

i don’t reach for meaning.

i just stand there—

burning,

breathing,

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

Songs that might fit someone's characters

I often struggle with finding songs that would be fitting for my characters or scenes in my stories, but occasionally I find songs that might fit someone if not characters of my own. And with so many reblog games on this website I thought it might be neat to make a post where we can share music that fits a specific vibe and might help someone find songs for their characters.

I don't have many, but here are some

Four Aces - Fish in a Birdcage - this one is pretty straightforward, it's about a man who killed another for shooting his girlfriend/wife after losing a game of cards, and not regretting his actions even after 20 years of hard labor. I rather like the chorus part: No, I'm not innocent And I would do it all again The devil earned his sin Wrapped in that worthless waste of skin I'll never forgive him I'll never forget I'll never forgive him For what he did

Killer - Psychic Rites (Blvck Ceiling Remix) - I am not quite sure what kind of character or situation this could fit but there is a promise of destruction and the song has a wonderfully dark vibe

Rozárka - Divokej Bill - the meaning of the song is somewhat unclear to me but it sounds much like a drinking song with the singer musing about fate and life. here is a vague translation that might help: Don't you dare say you know how I feel, on an empty stomach with more wine than blood in my veins I'm writing your fate, your meeting with Lucifer, I'm burning a brand in your skin, scythe in my hand, Rosaline A thousand times a night I wake up with this feeling that someone is watching you sleep Let's drink to our health and to those who are no longer in this world, whose time has already come, Rosaline

The Curse of Millhaven - Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds, Polish cover by Bartek Kulas and Katarzyna Groniec - honestly just listen to it. it's fucking brilliant. sharing the Warrior Cats MAProject version because it includes English lyrics

This cover of Hotel California by Eagles - sharing as another Warrior Cats MAP call because I just can't find the original version of this cover anywhere else. this video itself is unlisted too which is a shame cause it's a really nice cover imo. the song is a classic but this cover adds a certain otherworldly melancholic vibe that makes me think of themes of Purgatory. or the Overlook Hotel from The Shining

do add your own and ramble about them as much as you wish!

[bookishbroadwayandblind]

WIP Wednesday

Hiiii! This is the last Phantom chapter and thus, the last snip. All The Sadness Of The World is an attempt to reckon with the cruel discrimination that I and many others have often had to grapple with, but it is also something of a jubilation and a joy. I don't know how to balance those extremes sometimes. I don't know how to say, "Yes, it is hard to be blind, and yes, love is such a victory and yes, the fact that we have found love does not mitigate that loss and yes, sometimes we have to mourn in order to rejoice and yes, there is a way to be proud of who you are without discounting what has happened to you." It's SO difficult and yet a conversation that I have so wanted to have over these two years, a story that has poured out of me the moment I begin to type as nothing really has before. And with it being over, I don't want these conversations I'm having with myself and with others to end. There will be more, I hope. So much more. But for now this is The Ableism Story and also the Disabled Joy story and mostly just mine, in a way different than my other works. And is it a perfect portrayal of disability? Absolutely not. I might argue it's impossible to capture that, especially since so few have walked this path—not to discount the amazing things people have done for disabled rights. But I think it's brought me healing, and I could only hope that it will to someone else as well. I hope you'll forgive my dramatic rant. Have some Simon loves Baz content because I'm OBSESSED with it.

“Baz’s head had lolled so that it now rested against Simon's shoulder, and with each passing second, Simon took in with more and more urgency the rough edges of Baz's face. He memorized each contour as a way to make sense of the shattering world, how to cling to the present and convince himself it would soon become the past and make way for something else.

The voices dimmed to a drone around him and he resisted the urge to touch Baz's cheek, wondering if it would be soft or stubbly, how nice it might be to map out the dimensions until he knew them like his own.

Simon had always had a devotion to Baz, hadn't he? His angel, yes. But also, simply, his."

Thank you to @thewholelemon for the tag! Love and admiration to @larkral @carryonmylovelies @artsyunderstudy @skee3000 @userrandomname @raenestee @iamamythologicalcreature @aristocratic-otter @argumentativeantitheticalg @bookish-bogwitch @blackberrysummerblog @hushed-chorus @roomwithanopenfire @hushed-chorus @monbons @drowninginships @valeffelees @youarenevertooold @thatdisabledprincess @messofthejess @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

[yesterdays-xkcd]

I love the title-text!

xkcd Loves the Discovery Channel [Explained]

Transcript Under the Cut

[The comic is in parody of the Discovery Channel commercial showing various clips of people singing a song with the chorus line "Boom De Yada."]

[Megan spinning around.] I love momentum.

[Megan laying on floor tinkering with an EEE PC hamster ball robot.] I love to engineer.

[Beret Guy standing in bakery holding a loaf of bread in each hand, a sign with "PIE!" in background.] I love this bakery!

[Cory Doctorow in goggles and a red cape flying superman-style.] I love the blogosphere!

[Cueball running in a large hamster ball.] I love the whole world

[Depiction of internet sludge (4chan b-Random)] And all its messed-up folks.

[Cueball and Megan immersed in playpen balls.] Boom De Yada Boom De Yada

[Mass of playpen balls with speech "I put on my robe and wizard hat" originating from it.] Boom De Yada Boom De Yada

[Black Hat taking a present from a kid with a party hat.] I love your suffering.

[Diagram showing RSA fingerprint authentication between two people.] I love cryptography.

[Cueball and Megan in bed covered by a red sheet.] I love entangled sheets.

[Cueball hanging from a kite string holding a camera.] And kite photography.

[Map of the internet.] I love the whole world

[Cube with a red spider on top.] And all its mysteries.

[Two people sword-fighting on rolling office chairs.] Boom De Yada Boom De Yada

[Classroom with two students and Miss Lenhart.] Boom De Yada Boom De Yada

[Cueball saying "Barack me Obamadeus!" to another man speaking energetically at a podium.] I love elections.

[Cueball holding a schematic diagram of a transistor in front of his crotch.] I love transistors.

[Cueball and Megan in bed, Cueball saying "There must be taft slash fiction."] I love weird pillow talk.

[Cueball speaking to Megan.] I love your sister.

[Roller coaster with Cueball in the front car holding a chess board and thinking about a move.] I love the whole world.

[Beret Guy standing in the midst of leafless trees.] The future's pretty cool!

[Megan doing the MC Hammer slide towards Cueball.] Boom De Yada Boom De Yada

[Cueball and Megan on an electric skateboard.] Boom De Yada Boom De Yada