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on-my-vigilante-sht · 11 months ago

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Luke Castellan x daughterofares!Reader

Summary: Luke's girlfriend is excited to finally become a year-round camper so she can spend it with him. But Luke has other plans for them.

Warning: Major spoilers if you haven't finished the first book(/season depending on when you read this), canon-level violence, weapons, injuries, angst

Word Count: 5.5K

Masterlist

A/N I haven't watched the show because I don't have Disney+ so I'm working from (memory of) the books. No characters are specifically book or show so descriptions are left vague. Imagine whatever you want.

I stumbled my way up Half-Blood Hill, determined to get to Thalia’s tree. This was my last year being a summer camper. After I graduated high school I’d decided to become a year round camper seeing as the real world was getting more and more dangerous for me. And I'd be damned if I let myself be killed right before I was in the safety of camp for good.

I was in so much pain, there was blood pouring out of my abdomen caused by the crocotta’s razor sharp claws slicing at me. My short break gave it enough time to catch up to me so rather than continuing to flee, I was forced to turn and face it. I pulled out my father’s gift to me, a sword made of celestial bronze that grew from a steel knife that could harm mortals. When he claimed and gifted it to me I found the steel useless. Why would I ever need to harm a mortal? The reasoning behind the dual blade still eluded me. The only reason I could think of was just that Ares had a penchant for violence.

As the crocotta bounded closer to me, all I could do was stand and wait for it to get within range. But upon reaching me, it just swiped the sword from my grasp, pouncing on me. I felt a tear slip down my face as I realized I’d failed to reach safety one final time. As it growled in my face and opened its jaw, I sent a silent prayer to my father and a goodbye to Luke. But before it’s jaws could clamp down on me, the weight lifted and a shimmery cloud of ichor rained down on me.

As the golden dust settled, I could see my boyfriend’s face above mine, standing over me, clutching his dagger. “Luke,” I practically sobbed in relief.

“Oh my gods,” he exclaimed, kneeling down next to me. His hands went to my stomach, pressing against the open wound, trying to stop the bleeding. “Can you walk?” he asked, fear in his eyes.

“Yeah,” I nodded, letting him take my hand as he stood. Truthfully I probably couldn’t really walk but it was either walk 10 feet to the tree or lie here waiting for someone else to help Luke carry me in and potentially getting attacked by another monster.

I let out a groan as Luke slung my arm over his shoulder, pulling me up from the ground. “C’mon,” he urged, “just get to the tree and then we’ll get some more people to help you.” I nodded, not bothering with a verbal agreement as I let my boyfriend practically carry me just past Thalia’s tree. “There we go,” he said gently as he eased me to the ground.

“Go. Go get Lee or Michael,” I urged him as he kneeled by my side again.

“No,” Luke immediately shot down. “I’m not leaving you like this and so close to the edge of the barrier.” I glanced to my left. We were about three feet from the edge of the camp’s protective barrier. “Help!” I heard him yell towards camp.

“What? Do you think I'm accidentally gonna roll down the hill?” I tried to joke. But my chuckle made my wounds hurt even more.

Seeing my pain made Luke even more unamused. Soon enough a few other campers ran up to us, having heard Luke’s call.

“Y/N, oh my god.”

“What happened?”

“Another one?!”

I heard the various reactions from other campers. Another one? What did they mean another one? But I didn’t dwell on my questions for long because Lee Fletcher and Michael Yew were running towards me. A few of my siblings followed them carrying a stretcher. As the Apollo boys started to try to stop the bleeding, I was moved onto the stretcher. But the pain of being lifted was so bad I blacked out.

When I came to in the sickroom of the Big House all I could feel was pain. I let out a soft groan, snapping Luke to attention. He was slumped over on my bedside, seemingly sleeping. He immediately grabbed a piece of ambrosia off the nightstand next to the cot, bringing it to my lips. I immediately rejected it, not feeling like eating anything.

“C’mon, it’s ambrosia. It’ll make you feel better,” Luke pleaded. Reluctantly I let him coax the food into my mouth and ate it. The comforting taste of my mother’s chocolate cake filled my mouth. Despite the fact that it tasted good, it felt heavy in my stomach and I pushed the food away. “You gotta eat more than that,” he tried again.

“Let’s start with water or nectar,” I suggested, my throat sore.

Luke looked at the floor angrily. He sighed. “We’re out of nectar for a while. Ambrosia is all we have.”

“What?” I asked in shock, sitting up in surprise. Luke was quick to coax me back down.

“Grover and the kid he was helping got attacked by the Minotaur on their way here. Just like the crocotta attacked you.”

“Oh my god,” I murmured. “Is that why someone said ‘Another one?’ as they were bringing me here?”

He nodded once again. “His name was Percy. He showed up the night before you did.” He suddenly stopped talking. Like he had something more to say. I urged him to continue and he did so reluctantly. “Poseidon claimed him the second night he was awake… and now he’s on a quest.”

I looked at him sympathetically. I knew all about Luke’s anger about going unclaimed for so long. And then when he finally was claimed and had trained to be a great hero, all Hermes could give him to do was steal some golden apples. But after countless rants about this I knew he wouldn’t want sympathy. “You said he’s on a quest already? How long have I been out?”

“A couple days. Chiron and Lee kicked me out for a while.”

“What’d you do?”

“Well, we already need new practice dummies for combat training,” he admitted sheepishly. I laughed and fortunately Luke did too.

By now, Chiron had sensed I was awake and entering the sickroom. As he ducked his way through the door he shrunk down back into his wheelchair so as to not overwhelm me. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. You gave us quite a scare for a few days,” he smiled.

“So I've heard.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like my guts were ripped out by a crocotta,” I answered.

“Well the ambrosia should help the pain and scarring. Lee stopped the bleeding and stitched you up but he said you’d be out for a few days.”

“Can you get her some nectar?” Luke interrupted. “She’s not exactly in a place to be eating solid foods.”

“Mr. D is trying to get into contact with Apollo. Apparently he’s concerned that Dionysus is overindulging.”

“That’s crap!” Luke suddenly burst out.

“Luke!” Chiron immediately cut him off. “I know you’re concerned for Ms. L/N, here but the food of the gods is in of itself a privilege.” He then turned his attention back to me. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well but ambrosia will have to do until we’re able to get more nectar.”

“Thanks, Chiron,” I tried to dismiss him, giving him a tight lipped smile. Sensing my disappointment he took his leave, wheeling out of the room.

Luke was back by my bedside with more pieces of ambrosia that I reluctantly took.

Thanks to the godly food I was up and walking within two days much to cabin 5’s relief. So many of my younger siblings were saying that Clarisse had been a terror in my absence. Something about a bathroom exploding and then she apparently tried to electrocute the new camper. I made a note to talk to her later but for now I was focused on getting my cabin back in order. They responded best to authority and a routine so I quickly had them out in training, telling them that I wouldn’t tolerate us losing capture the flag again.

We made our way down to the arena for sword fighting lessons. Luke and I were both instructors seeing as we were the oldest two campers and the best with blades. Our childhood competitiveness had eventually grown into love but for a while, we hated each other. We used to spend hours trying to get the upper hand over one another.

But now that we were dating, the younger campers always tried to goad us into sparring with one another. We always said that we’d save our sparring match for our own training or a reward for the others doing well but usually a few teasing comments had our swords pointed at one another.

I was correcting a Hermes camper’s form when he asked me to try fighting Luke. “Not today,” I laughed.

“Why? Is it because you’re scared?” he asked, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“No,” I corrected him. “It’s because once we fight, none of you will care about what we teach you.”

“Sound like you’re scared,” the boy just repeated.

I just rolled my eyes, prepared to dismiss him when Luke’s voice interrupted. “Yeah, Y/N. It sounds like you’re scared.” I rolled my eyes again as he approached. “I wouldn’t want to fight the capture the flag champion either.”

“You only won because I was recovering from being chased across the country by a monster. Just wait until the next game, I’ll show you how Cabin 5 does it.” That elicited a few cries of encouragement from my cabin, eager to win their flag back.

“You need a bit more time to train, I get it,” he mockingly offered. A few of his siblings joined in on the taunting with their exaggerated reactions.

“I don’t need time. I’d just rather not cut you up this early into the summer,” I smiled. A few ‘ooh’s came from our audience.

Luke bristled a little at that. “C’mon,” he gestured to the arena, “let’s settle this once and for all.”

I picked up one of the practice swords that resembled the size and weight of my real sword, stepping into the middle of the arena. “You say that every time.” Luke smiled, taking his spot in front of me with his practice sword as the other campers backed up.

I barely gave him a chance to settle before I was moving. I had the advantage of my father’s knack for fighting and aggression but I wasn’t as strong as Luke. Unfortunately, he knew all my moves and tricks so he was able to block me. But that also meant I knew all of his moves and tricks because I could anticipate his subsequent moves.

We continued on, trying to outmaneuver each other. He kept forcing me out of range, protecting his body, whilst I tried to find an opening to get close to him. The other campers had been within the walls of the arena but we moved around so much they were forced to jump out.

The only reason we stopped was because our little “lesson” had gone on too long and Chiron was wondering where his students were. Neither of us noticed him until he yelled our names. “Y/N L/N! Luke Castellan! What are you doing?” We both immediately stopped, facing the centaur like guilty children.

“We were just introducing them to technique,” Luke offered. I could tell Chiron saw right through his excuse but it was good enough reasoning.

“You both know you’re supposed to hold off on sparring one another. Children,” he turned to the other campers, “what did your instructors teach you?”

“Stance!”

“What to do if your opponent has a longer sword!”

Those were the answers our siblings offered but one Aphrodite camper’s answer ruined the whole thing. “How to waste time.” Luke and I both sent her stares.

Fortunately Chiron didn’t take it too seriously. “Save the sparring for your own sessions,” he warned us. “Everyone move on to your next activities. I’m sure your instructors are waiting.”

As everyone else filed off, Luke and I looked at each other. “You’re disgusting,” I laughed, observing his sweaty shirt.

He looked baffled at that. “Wow. I was gonna ask if you’re okay but clearly you don’t value me that much,” he answered in mocking offense.

“No, no, no,” I corrected through laughs, going to him. But as soon as he tried to hug me, I pulled away with a wrinkled nose. Seeing my disgust, he forcefully hugged me, drowning me in his B.O. When I finally wrestled my way out of his arms I was disgusting. “Ugh we both need showers.”

He smiled. “I’ll see you at dinner,” he promised. He stepped closer to me, kissing me quickly before heading off towards the showers. I watched him leave for a moment before heading to my cabin.

Later that night at dinner, I was talking to my cabin-mates when Luke came over, crouching by me. “Hey,” he smiled up at me as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“Hi,” I laughed. “What are you doing here?”

“Being a good boyfriend. I’m just giving you a heads up that our spar from earlier isn’t over yet.”

“What?”

Chiron stood up and so did Luke. “Gotta go, bye,” he said, pressing a kiss to my temple before scurrying off.

Bewildered, I looked up at Chiron. “We have a special activity tonight per the request of the reigning capture the flag champions. We’ll be playing again tonight seeing as some claimed our last games were unfair due to a missing counselor.” Cabin 5 erupted into cheers, eager to win the flag back. “Luke Castellan and Y/N L/N are captains. Same rules as the prior games.”

Not willing to let my cabin lose again, I jumped into action. “Cabin 5, armor on, get to the creek in 5!” They all quickly scrambled off. Our allies for this game, Dionysus, Aphrodite, Demeter, and Hephaestus followed their lead.

I followed after them to get my armor as well and soon enough I was stood by the creek, discussing strategy with my teammates. Once our discussion time drew to a close, I faced my opposing captain. “You’re going down, feather feet,” I sneered.

“We’ll see, hot head,” Luke taunted.

I laughed. “Oh yeah, one more thing,” I told my teammates. “Bring me Luke’s sword and helmet.”

“In your dreams,” he taunted back. He looked at his team. “Bring me Y/N.”

“Okay,” Chiron interrupted us. “Before we begin I think we need a reminder that killing is not permitted. Are we clear?” A few unenthusiastic agreements came from the crowd. Nodding, Chiron blew into the horn, signaling that the games had begun. Some of my campers who hadn’t already been stationed bolted into the trees, doubling back so they could hopefully sneak through Hermes’ cabin’s defenses. The others stayed with me to defend the most obvious point.

One Hermes kid immediately jumped at me but I slashed him in the chest, (his armor protected him so he just got the wind knocked out of him) knocking him back into the water.

He got back up, running at one of my campers but he was immediately disarmed and taken prisoner. By the time I looked back, the other campers and Luke were gone. I realized with a frustrated scream that this kid was a distraction. “Find them!” I yelled at the others.

“Their territory or ours?” I observed the 5 campers in front of me. “You three, stay on our side. Fan across the creek, look for signs they crossed into our territory. The rest of you, we’re gonna either hunt them down in their territory or take their flag.”

My group leapt over the creek, running into the forest.

As we searched, we picked up a few of our own teammates, running through the woods and strangely finding no opposing campers. We continued on nonetheless until Athena and Apollo campers all of a sudden started darting through the trees.

Eventually they stopped moving enough for us to have a proper fight. I faced Malcom Pace, easily disarming him. But suddenly his older brothers were on me. As I was busy fighting twins, Leo and Cato, another one of the boys found an opening. Quinn wrapped his arms around me, a dagger at my throat. “Drop the sword,” they told me.

Seeing as I wasn’t getting out of this but my teammates were gone while many of the Athena and Apollo campers were still here, I dropped the sword. Most of my campers got away and were likely hunting down the flag.

Before they could decide where to stash their prisoner, the horn blew again, signaling the end of the games. But as I tried to leave, the others stopped me. “Woah, Luke said he wanted you so we’re taking you.”

I rolled my eyes, letting them lead me to the creek. “Yeah, well when my cabin gives me his stuff and the flag, you can apologize to me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Quinn dismissed. “You’re just mad I beat you.”

“You only ‘beat me’ because there were three of you. And you guys still lost the rest of my team.”

“We still got you!” Leo taunted in a sing-songy voice. By now we had reached the creek and I saw Clarisse holding the flag, a helmet, and a sword. Luke was kneeled beside her looking humiliated, clearly a captive.

Both sides let us go and I went to Clarisse. “Your spoils,” she presented me the flag, helmet, and sword. I smiled, wrapping the flag around her shoulders and taking Luke’s stuff.

“Thank you!” I said emphatically, pointing a look of victory at Luke.

He just shook his head, standing up. As he approached me I figured he was grabbing his belongings but instead he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me in for a kiss. When he pulled away he explained. “You’re my spoil.”

Camp life continued on as normal for a while. I finally met the newest hero who had returned Zeus’ masterbolt— he did not like my father. He seemed surprised that Luke and I were dating and I learned that Luke had become a sort of mentor to Percy over the days that I had been asleep. That also surprised me, given how resentful Luke had seemed towards him when I first woke up. Regardless, everything seemed normal as we continued our routines throughout the summer until I was woken up one night.

“Y/N,” a voice whispered, shaking me. “Y/N.” I reluctantly opened my eyes, finding one of my younger brothers, Aiden, shaking me. “Luke’s asking for you.”

“What?” I asked, sitting up.

“Luke wants to talk to you. He gave me a coke if I woke you up.” The boy excitedly held up a shiny red can as if to persuade me to go.

I rubbed his messy hair as I sat up. “Don’t let Clarisse see that,” I advised, throwing on a hoodie. He nodded, going back to his bunk as I headed outside. “Luke!” I whispered into the night upon exiting the cabin. I didn’t notice him sneaking up towards me until his hands were around my waist. “Luke!” I exclaimed in surprise.

He quickly hushed me. “Do you want the harpies to find us?”

“Well we wouldn’t have to worry about that if you weren’t trying to talk to me in the middle of the night. What’s wrong?” I asked, knowing it’d be serious. He let his playful facade drop as he urged me to follow him, taking my hand. I went with him, silently trusting him until I realized we were heading to the woods. I stopped, letting my hand fall out of his grasp. “What? Are you gonna kill me in there?” I laughed shallowly, trying to lighten the mood and quell the alarms in my brain.

Luke returned my shallow laugh, clearly nervous. “Of course not. Look, I have to talk to you. It’s serious.” I could see the genuineness in his expression so I let him retake my hand. “I’d never hurt you,” he promised. So I followed him further into the woods until he deemed us far enough. “The nymphs may hear us but it’s kind of impossible to avoid them,” he chuckled.

“Hear what?” I asked.

He took a breath, seemingly composing himself. “You know how I went on that quest? For my dad?”

“Yeah. What? You want to go out into the world again?” I asked, a little relieved.

“Sort of,” he offered. “But on that ‘quest,’” he mocked the word, “I realized something: the gods are useless.”

“Luke!” I immediately reprimanded him.

“No,” he cut me off. “You don’t have to pretend like not fawning over the gods is a crime. We shouldn’t be blindly worshipping them. Y/N,” his hands were clasping my shoulders as if begging me to believe him, “your father waited for the last day of summer your first year to claim you. Why? Just to mess with you? Because he just couldn’t be bothered to do it until he remembered at the last second? That’s messed up. The gods aren’t fit to rule. The West is going to hades. My quest? To repeat Heracles’ quest? All the gods know how to do is repeat the past. Their glory days.”

“Luke, you’re scaring me.” I was practically begging him to stop talking so we could go back to the way it was. This was the first year I’d be staying year round. We were supposed to be celebrating Christmas together for the first time in a few months. Yet here he was, spouting off heresy.

“Open your eyes,” he insisted. “The gods are poisoning the world and they’ve been using us as pawns to do it. The only way to fix it is to destroy it and start over with something more honest.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been having dreams sent by the Titan Lord.”

A shiver ran down my spine and I stepped out of his grasp. “No,” I heard myself whisper. “Luke, he’s using you. You remember what Chiron taught us. We are not better off, no one was better off when the Titans ruled. We didn’t even have fire. He will kill all the humans. He’ll kill us.”

“Not if we join him willingly,” Luke promised, trying to take my hand again but I pulled away. “He said when I bring down the gods he’ll reward me. He’ll make me immortal. He promised you’d become like me too.” He quickly grasped my wrist tight enough so I couldn’t escape, pulling me closer. “We can rule together, forever.” He was pleading with me to take his offer, his hands finding a stray lock of hair to tuck behind my ear.

“Luke… this isn’t- you can’t…” I was at a loss for words.

“Please, Y/N,” his voice was cracking.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. This isn’t right. This is dangerous, can’t you see that?”

“This isn’t me just trying to get back at my dad. I’ve thought about this.” He stiffened, still tightly grasping my wrist. “Y/N, I need you with me.”

“Then don’t go,” I begged him. “I won’t even tell anyone. We can just go back to how things were.”

“No, we can’t,” he shook his head. “Because you’re gonna try to help me by telling Chiron and he’s gonna turn me in.”

“No he won’t! Luke, he trained you. He’ll want to help you.”

“Camp isn’t safe for us anymore. We have to go.”

This was the first time I actually started fearing for my safety. I tried to pull out of his grasp but he held firm. “Go where?”

“Our Titan Lord got us a ship. We’ll be safe there until I get my next orders. The monsters on it won’t harm us.”

“What?!” With a hard wrench I pulled my wrist out of his grasp. I immediately started running, hoping a nymph would find me before a monster did but Luke was on me in seconds. He knocked me to the ground and after a little struggling he had me pinned. “Luke, please don’t do this,” I begged as I saw him reach into his pocket. When I saw the milk of the poppy I began to thrash underneath him but I couldn’t manage to throw him off of me. He forced my mouth open, dropping the liquid onto my tongue and forcing me to swallow. Before I blacked out, I could vaguely hear him speak.

“You’ll be okay in a few days and then we can talk.” A few days???

The next morning Luke was woken by frantic cries of his girlfriend’s name heard throughout camp. He immediately rushed out of bed, putting on a concerned boyfriend facade. Finding one of his brothers, he asked what was going on. “What? Did you just wake up?” Luke nodded frantically. “Oh, I’m sorry man. Uh, Y/N wasn’t in bed this morning. No one can find her. One of her little brothers said you asked to talk to her last night.”

“Yeah to talk about potentially allying for capture the flag but she went right back in,” he insisted frantically. He ran a hand through his hair, acting stressed. He kind of whished he’d be gone by now but he needed to get rid of Percy before he could go.

He ran out of the cabin, immediately going up to Cabin 5. Clarisse spotted him, her expression becoming sour. “What’d you do Castellan? Aiden said you wanted to talk to her last night.”

“Yeah, we were talking about capture the flag but she went right back in 10 minutes later. You sleep 20 feet from her, where’s my girlfriend?” he challenged. Clarisse sent him a scowl but otherwise stormed off, the other Cabin 5 campers following her with similar expressions.

“Luke, I'm so sorry,” a young voice called. He turned, finding Annabeth running towards him. As she hugged him, Luke couldn’t help but think about how much he’d miss her. She was too smart for her own good but he still couldn’t help but think of the seven year old he had found hiding from monsters. “She could just be out somewhere?” she offered, trying to console him.

“I hope so,” he smiled down at her. He then spotted Mr. D and ran over to him. “Mr. D, can you find where she is?”

The god gave him a tired expression. “I’m not omniscient in this state. All I know is she’s not in camp.”

“Well can’t you get a god who is? Surely her father wants to know where she is,” he insisted. But Ares had plenty of demigod children and most of them went missing in action or died tragic deaths. Y/N would be just another hero child that fought in his name.

“Lord Ares has other concerns,” Mr. D at least tried to soften the blow. “If she hasn’t returned by the end of the summer then we must assume she is dead. Even if she left of her own volition.”

“But summer is ends tomorrow. You can’t do this. She could still be out there. She could need our help. Let me go out and search,” he pleaded. By now, Chiron, Clarisse, and a few others had joined them.

“No one is leaving,” Chiron declared. “I’m not letting anyone else go missing. Luke, I understand your concern but her blade was found in Cabin 5. If she’s not in camp she is likely already dead.”

“No,” Luke insisted, putting on the performance of a lifetime, “you’re wrong.”

After nearly two whole days of searching camp and the closest borders, (that was the furthest Chiron would let anyone go) Y/N L/N was declared dead. Her siblings reluctantly built a funeral pyre, decorating it with some of her things. Luke did his best to look devastated and it seemed to be working because no one looked at him twice other than to offer their sympathies. That at least made it easy to lure Percy off into the woods just before he left.

When I woke up I was in a strange room. It looked like a hotel room except for the fact that the floor to ceiling windows showed that I was on the ocean. That triggered all the memories of Luke. A sense of hopelessness came over me and I was immediately breaking down in sobs. I didn’t want to believe that he had joined Kronos and turned his back on everything he knew or that he was determined to drag me with him.

Once I finally managed to compose myself I went to the door, hoping to find a radio so someone could get me. Or maybe even find Luke so I could talk him into letting me go. But once I opened the door I was met with the massive jaws of a hellhound. I immediately shut the door and locked it.

Still feeling unsafe I went to grab the dresser to block the door but either it was too heavy or bolted down. I tried the desk next resulting in nothing. I was running out of time as the monster was probably just trying to process what it saw. Soon it’d smell me and start trying to break down the door. So I resorted to the chair, dragging it across the floor and jamming it under the door handle. I then went to the massive windows, realizing there was a hidden door. I wrenched it open, stepping out into the fresh air. I looked around, seeing no land I’d be able to swim to. But just as I was considering my chances, I noticed the body of a massive whale-like creature. I was willing to bet that whales weren’t just swimming around a cruise ship, this was a cetus.

Seeing as I had nowhere else to go, I went back into the room. I went to the attached bathroom, searching for something to defend myself. There wasn’t really anything in there except bar soap and toilet paper. Luke must have removed everything, even the towels, so I couldn’t hurt him or anyone else. Frustrated, I went to the closet, finding it completely empty. Not even a hangar to pull apart and stab someone with. So I reluctantly grabbed the soap seeing as it was literally the only thing remotely resembling a weapon, and sat on the bed, watching the door.

I don’t know how long I sat there but eventually I heard the door shake, like something was trying to get in. As I was preparing to clobber the monster with my bar of soap, a voice I recognized called through the door. “C’mon, Y/N! Open the door,” Luke said. I didn’t dare move. I didn’t want to see him. “Open the door or I break it down!” he demanded.

It was either open the door or have absolutely no protection from the monsters so I reluctantly got up. “Okay, okay!” I answered. “Just give me a second.” I climbed off the bed, removing the chair. I only twisted the handle, letting the door open slightly before going back to the bed to put some distance between us.

As Luke was locking the door again, I took my chance. Jumping, I tried to bring the bar of soap down on him but he turned, grabbing my wrist. “Come on, you had to have known that wouldn’t work,” he smiled.

I only gave him a burning stare. “It was worth a shot,” I said, trying to pull my hand away. But his grip held fast, not letting me pull away.

“So I guess you still hate me?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “You kidnapped me and are now holding me hostage on a monster infested ship.”

“You’ll understand soon enough,” he dismissed, once again brushing a piece of hair behind my ear. “Then we’ll be together forever.”

Masterlist

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #pjo x reader #the lightning thief #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #ares #daughter of ares #x reader

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littlewriters-posts · 6 months ago

Note

Hey darling! Can I request the Damon Salvatore x Fem!Reader? So maybe where the reader is the reincarnation or rebirth of Damon's old love, and Damon meets the reader's reincarnation like Elena in season 3, episode 22?

I love this idea so much!!

I spent hours writing this last night only for it not to save, so here is another attempt.

Plot: Damon thought his first love was dead and buried, so imagine his surprise when someone turns up in Beacon Hills wearing her exact face

1864

Katherine Peirce loved her boys - more importantly she loved how she had them wrapped around her little finger. Which meant of course, she could get whatever she wanted.

The three of them were sat outside in the gardens, enjoying the sunshine in the summer weather. Kathrine, Damon and Stefan all laughing amongst themselves like old friends.

"Your friend is coming today is she not?" Stefan asked.

Kathrine nodded, looking towards the road as if expecting a carriage to pull up at any minute.

"We're grateful you could offer us both shelter," she replied simply.

"Well if she's anything like you, how could we refuse?" Damon asked, a grin forming on his face.

Kathrine smiled up at him "She's exactly like me,"

This was a lie. Although Kathrine would never admit it, she often mimicked her friend's personality to get people to like her. Y/N was softer than Kathrine was, her heart not frozen from the years of pain they had both endured.

"What did you say her name was again?" Stefan asked.

"Y/N," Kathrine responded, "And it looks like she's here,"

A black carriage was pulling up, and a footman appeared to open the door. Kathrine was quick to race towards her friend, whilst the brothers hung back to watch the scene play out.

They watched as Y/N stepped out of the carriage, adorned in a soft green dress. She embraced her friend, a wide smile on her face as she chatted excitedly. Katherine drew her to where the Salvatore brothers stood, and Y/N shrunk slightly, stepping behind Katherine ever so slightly.

"Salvatore's, this is Y/N L/N, you'll forgive her if she's a little shy," Katherine smiled down at her friend.

Damon was the first to respond, taking her hand and pulling it up to his lips. "Damon Salvatore," he said, pressing a quick kiss to her hand.

Y/N curtseyed in response "A pleasure to meet you Mr Salvatore,"

Stefan was next, offering her a small bow "Stefan Salvatore, we hope you enjoy your stay here,"

Y/N smiled, looking between the two bothers "Thank you for having me, Kathrine tells me you have been most generous hosts,"

Kathrine clicked her tongue "Forgive me Salvatore's, but I believe I will be showing her around her new home,"

The brothers gave a small wave towards the girl in green, who gave a shy smile in response.

"What do you think?" Stefan asked his brother. Damon eyed the retreating figures of the two girls with curiosity.

"Well Kathrine says she's like her, but I don't think I've ever met someone so different,"

Neither Stefan nor Damon saw much of Y/N from that moment on, she would never be teasing them the way Katherine did, nor would she seek them out. They'd catch glimpses of her reading, or writing beneath one of the trees in the garden occasionally, but neither of them even thought of saying something.

They were too captivated by Katherine.

But then came the day of the Founder's ball. Damon was in a foul mood, since Katherine had decided to attend the ball with Stefan, and found himself wandering he halls of his own home, unable to escape the nagging feeling in his chest.

So he went to where he always went too when his thoughts became too much; the library.

It was a large place, with books lining the walls like leaves on the trees. But it was cosy also, with three large chairs huddled round the grand fireplace.

To his surprise however, there was already somebody there.

"Miss Y/N," he remarked, a surprised frown on his face "I thought you'd be at the party,"

It was true, as she was adorned in a beautiful purple dress, that looked to be one of Katherine's. Her hair was done in an elegant updo, but still she sat on the chair, a heavy book in her lap.

She blinked up at him, her fingers fiddling with the pages.

"I've never been one for crowds, that was always more of Katherine's thing," she said softly.

Katherine. The name felt bitter on Damon's tongue. He wondered though, if Y/N was like Katherine in other ways, in ways that had to be kept a secret from the rest of the family.

"Mind if I join you?" Damon asked, and Y/N shook her head.

"Not at all,"

There was a brief silence between them as Damon stared at the girl. She paid him little attention, her eyes darting across the pages of the book as if feasting off the words it gave her.

"You like to read," he observed, and Y/N jumped, forgetting he was there.

"I like to write," she corrected "But reading is the next best thing if I have nothing to write in,"

There was another silence, and Damon debated saying something else, but she didn't seem like the type to want to talk much, and he felt he should be careful where he tread. But to his surprise it was her who started the next conversation.

"What brings you out of the party?" Y/N asked, closing her book and setting it to the side.

Damon sighed, he couldn't tell her the real reason, for Katherine was her friend and he was not. But similarly he couldn't think of a lie, something about her made him feel guilty for even thinking about lying to her.

Y/N grimaced slightly, taking pity on the fallen expression of the man. "I see she chose your heart to break," she said softly.

"What?" Damon asked, taken by surprise.

Y/N sighed "You think you're the first two men that Katherine has set against each other? I love her dearly, but she does like her games,"

Damon shrugged "The price I pay for falling for the act in the first place,"

"If I may," Y/N said cautiously "If you want to win her affection's you needn't show it to her so much. Katherine likes to chase,"

Damon's eyes flickered slightly 2What are you suggesting?" he asked.

"Take someone else to the next founders ball," Y/N suggested, picking up another book from the table. "You're a handsome man Mr Salvatore I'm sure you'll have little trouble finding somebody who takes an interest,"

Damon sat back a little, before glancing at the time. The founders ball still had a couple of hours before it was over.

"Why wait?" he asked, a mischievous smile on his face. "I could get a date right now,"

"That's the spirit," Y/N said, not looking up from her book.

"So Y/N, would you do me the honour of attending the founders ball with me?"

Y/N's mouth dropped open as she looked up at Damon, who was now standing with his arm outstretched towards ger.

"I - I can't!" she said with wide eyes "I'm terrible with crowds, and I don't know anybody, and god forbid they try and talk with me-"

Damon cocked his head slightly as she spoke, sensing the panic in her voice.

"I'll stay with you, and if anyone speaks to us, I will be the one to answer, if that is what you wish. So what do you say - one dance?"

Y/N hesitated, before slowing accepting his hand and letting him pull her up. "Don't make me regret this Mr Salvatore," she warned.

He laughed, guiding her hand to he crook of his arm. "Please call me Damon,"

Y/N sighed, trying desperately to swallow the nerves about walking into a room full of people she didn't know.

In the hall, Katherine and Stefan were dancing gracefully, successfully ignoring the stares of the room.

"I do hope your brother isn't too offended by my choice of Salvatore," Katherine mused, earning a chuckle from Stefan.

"I do believe he'll get over it - or he already has,"

"What?" asked Katherine, but Stefan just nodded towards the other side of the room, where Damon had just entered, Y/N on his arm.

Katherine's eyes narrowed as Damon shot a smirk her way, before leaning down to whisper in Y/N's ear.

"Just follow my lead, you'll be fine,"

Y/N tried not to shiver as his breath hit her ear, and allowed herself to be led across the dancefloor.

"I never thought you'd be the dancing type," she admitted, looking up into his blue eyes.

"And why is that?" Damon asked a slight smirk playing on his face.

"I don't know," Y/N bit her lip slightly to stop herself from smiling "You seemed much too arrogant to bore yourself with something as frivolous as a party,"

Damon's eyebrows raised as he realised her teasing tone "I never thought you'd be so cheeky, I thought that was something that belonged to Katherine,"

Y/N shook her head slightly, a laugh falling from her lips "Katherine was always so serious, even when we were children. I suppose you Salvatore's have shown her a thing or two,"

Children, they knew each other when they were children, so Y/N must at least know what Katherine was, if she wasn't one herself.

"She's staring at us," Damon commented, realising that Katherine had stopped dancing with his brother, and was shooting curious looks to the other pair.

"Told you," Y/N shrugged, her voice lowering to a whisper "Nobody Knows Katherine like I do - perhaps now would be a good time to talk to her?"

Damon hesitated, he knew that part of him wanted to but the other part -

"We're having far too much fun dancing, don't you think?"

And it was true, Damon did enjoy Y/N's company. With her shyness beginning to ease, he enjoyed the small jests she'd make at him, and thoughts of Katherine began fading away.

The pair danced, and chatted until the early hours of the morning when the founders ball finally came to an end, and the last of the guests were leaving.

Y/N let out a yawn, and Damon caught her as she stumbled slightly.

"I think it's time I retire," she said sleepily "It's been a pleasure dancing with you Mr Salv - Damon,"

Damon brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a firm kiss on the back of it. "The pleasure was all mine, goodnight Y/N,"

He watched as she left, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Careful, she'll fall in love with you," came a sly voice to the right of him. He didn't need to look to know it was Katherine. "her heart is far too soft to survive a Salvatore brother,"

"You were wrong before, she is nothing like you," Damon commented "Enjoy my brother,"

And with that he walked off, feeling triumphant that he had been able resist the urge to fall right back into Katherine's arms, but he couldn't shake the Y/N from his mind either.

The next morning, Damon found himself outside the door of Y/N's bedroom, his hand ready to knock when she opened to door herself.

She jumped slightly "Oh - Damon?" she asked her eyes wide.

His lips parted in shock slightly, the encounter catching him off guard and all the rehearsed words in his head disappearing.

"Are you alright, you look like you've seen a ghost?" she asked, frowning slightly.

Damon cleared his throat, presenting a small brown parcel with his other hand.

"A thankyou gift, for coming with me to the dance last night," he said.

Y/N blinked slightly, gingerly taking the package from his hands, and carefully untying the string.

"You didn't have to -" she began, before trailing off as she revealed the leather bound notebook he had bought for her.

"You mentioned you loved writing, I figured this would help you out a bit," he said slightly nervously "Do you like it?"

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. "Thankyou so much Damon, this - it means the world," she said sincerely, clutching the book to her chest as if it may run away.

Damon's worried expression broke into a grin. Another difference between Y/N and Katherine, Y/N was sincere, was genuine.

He didn't even see Katherine glaring at the two from behind the pillar.

Katherine watched with resentment over the next couple of weeks, watching as Damon started pining after Y/N instead of her. Of course, anyone else she would have gotten rid of immediately, but Y/N was her friend, and she didn't have many of those.

Even Stefan noticed her change in behaviour towards the other girl, but decided it was not in his best interest to question it.

But Damon was oblivious, too wrapped up in wanting the attention of the shy girl he had met, yet seemingly unable to show his affections towards her.

Y/N carried on with her life, desperately trying to ignore the flutters in her stomach whenever the older brother entered the room, concealing her blushing cheeks with her hair whenever he spoke. Nobody noticed, besides Katherine, as the girl often hid herself behind her hair when people spoke to her, but not quite in the same way.

"I see you fell in love with him too," Katherine commented, walking in unannounced to her friends bedroom.

Y/N sighed nervously, she knew that Katherine got whatever she wanted, and mostly she allowed it which is why the pair were such good friends.

Katherine stepped closer. "What do you think he'll think of you when you tell him what you are?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

Y/N shook her head "I don't need to tell him," she said hoarsely, "I'm not like you Katherine,"

Katherine chuckled "You may not be a vampire, but you can't go around pretending to be human,"

Y/N glared at her friend through the reflection of the mirror, but didn't say anything to protest and Katherine smiled.

"I'm just saving you the pain of losing him," she said, before turning on her heal and waltzing out the door, no doubt to find the Salvatore brother herself.

Y/N sighed, her had laying on the book that Damon had gotten her, piled on top of all the other books she had written in over the years. Even if she didn't like it, Katherine was correct. Though her curse wasn't quite as visible as the older girl's, it was a curse nevertheless, and all curses had consequences.

"What did she mean?"

Y/N froze, the sound of the man's voice like ice in her heart. She spun round and came face to face with Damon, who was standing in front of the door he had just closed.

He took a step closer, his eyes searching her stricken and panicked face. Another way she was different to Katherine, she wore her heard and emotions on her sleeve, there was no having to interpret or guess with her, she was an open book whether she liked it or not.

"You don't have to be scared, I didn't tell Katherine's secret and I won't tell yours," he reassured her, stepping closer to take her hand.

"I'm not a vampire," Y/N said defiantly.

Damon shook his head "You don't have to lie to me," he promised, his blue eyes searching her nervous ones.

"I'm not!" she stressed, before breaking away from Damon's grasp and sitting on the bed "It's more complicated than that,"

Damon sank to his knees before her, looking up at her with wide and trusting eyes "Then let me help you,"

"I'm cursed," Y/N said quietly after a beat. "They call it the Phoenix curse. Every time I die, I get reborn from my ashes as my old body burns, forgetting everything from my previous life."

Damon frowned "But if you forget everything, how do you know you've died before?"

Y/N smiled slightly, raising her hand to brush the hair from his eyes. "I didn't at first. But I am always reborn at the age of sixteen, and people tend to notice when you're almost an adult and have no memories to show it. Katherine found me, and she had this made for me,"

Y/N drew out a necklace that was tucked away in her bodice. It was golden, and dainty, with a red gemstone in the middle of it.

"It allows me to keep the memories even after I have been reborn,"

Damon let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"Well that's certainly a raw deal on your behalf, at least Vampires get the added speed and strength,"

Y/N laughed, shaking her head slightly as she stood up.

"The books in your father's library say that I have wings, and that I can fly, but that remains a mystery to me, and I am immune to compulsion" she said with a smile.

Damon hesitated, a question on the tip of his tongue but unsure whether or not to ask it.

"Well it seems to me, that as long as I don't let anyone kill you, there doesn't seem to be much of a curse," he commented with a quick smile.

Y/N raised her eyebrows "Surely it is Katherine you would want to be around, speaking of which, how are you and her?" she asked

Damon shrugged "I found someone else that seemed far more appealing,"

Y/N turned to face him, her breath catching in her throat slightly as she realised just how close they actually were.

"Who?" she asked, unable to hide her blushing cheeks with her hair this time.

"You,"

Y/N's eyes widened, her brows drawing up slightly as she looked at him. Her lips parted as if wanting to say something, but no words came out, her heart pounding against her chest, the tightness of her corset making it difficult to breathe.

"Damon - Katherine," was all she could let out, but he shook his head.

"I don't want her, not since I met you. I no longer want to be chasing after a game, but I would chase after you for the rest of my life if that is what it took. I would tell a hundred jokes just to hear you laugh, and run a thousand miles to catch up to you,"

Y/N let him grab her hands in his own, but tugged away slightly "Damon you don't understand, Katherine wants you. And Katherine always gets what she wants,"

But Damon didn't relent "But I don't want Katherine, I want you," he said, the desperation leaking into his voice "But if you truly do not want me, then that is fine, but I need to hear you say it. I need to hear your say you do not want me if I am to go,"

Y/N shook her head, her gaze downwards "I can not lie to you Damon," she said quietly "I can not say I do not want you, when you are all I want,"

Damon breathed a sigh of relief, a slight laugh falling from his lips as he embraced her in a tight hug, pulling away only to cup her face in his hands, his blue eyes memorising every detail of it as if would disappear if he looked away.

"Meet me outside, near the village. You go out of the left gate at the gardens then follow the road until you meet the village square, I'll meet you there - I've got a surprise for you," he said, the smile never leaving his face.

"I will try, but I'm terrible with directions," Y/N teased "You may have to find me if I get lost."

Damon kissed her cheek, tucking her stray hair behind her ear "I will always find you," he promised.

Behind the door, Katherine watched the two lovers, a dark expression on her face. As much as she adored her, Y/N would have to go.

So as Damon waited at the village square, and the minutes ticked by, it occurred to him only too late that something terrible had happened to his new love.

That Y/N had disappeared without a trace.

2009

Y/N sighed with a heavy heart, as she lugged her suitcase behind her. She was grateful to have a suitcase, many of the children she was with in the foster home before had their stuff in plastic bin bags as they moved from house to house.

But Y/N had been adopted.

She found it odd that somebody wanted to adopt her, especially since she was three weeks away from turning eighteen, but it meant she no longer had to fend for herself once she aged out of the system, so she had to be grateful.

Rudy Hopkins

Y/N hadn't even met him, yet here he was willing to adopt the strange girl without a second thought.

That's if Y/N could find the damn house.

Mystic falls was a mystery to her, especially since she had never been there before - or so she thought.

"Y/N?" came a voice.

She spun round, and came face to face with a man she could only describe as beautiful. His eyes were wide, and blue, looking at her with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"Er, I'm sorry do I know you?" she asked with a frown, stepping backwards nervously as the man stepped closer to her.

He froze, his eyes glinting downwards to her neck, where not one bit of jewellery rested.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone I knew - Damon Salvatore," he introduced himself, but his blue eyes were still piercing her own, scanning her as if she were an odd puzzle piece he couldn't quite place.

"Y/N L/N," she responded, a slight frown evident on her face "Are you alright, you look like you've seen a ghost,"

Damon hesitated, her words echoing in his head, the same words she had spoken to him all those years before, yet she truly had no recollection of him.

He nodded "Sorry for bothering you," he said quickly, turning to walk away.

"Wait!" she called out, grabbing her suitcase "You don't know where Rudy Hopkins lives do you? He's my adoptive parent, but he didn't show up to the meeting point, he just text that I'll meet him at home,"

Damon's eyes widened, Rudy Hopkins was the father of Bonnie Bennet, there was no way this was a coincidence.

"Follow the road back down until you - " he paused, looking at her confused and slightly panicked expression, and he felt his heart tug slightly as he remembered her all those years ago wearing exactly the same face as she was now.

"I'll take you," he reassured "Something tells me that you're not very good with directions,"

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief "You aren't going to turn out to be some serial killer are you?"

Damon snorted "Bit late to ask that isn't it? But no, I can promise I am not a serial killer,"

Y/N smiled up at him as he walked next to her, and he found himself having to concentrate on not looking at her. She was exactly the same as she was all those years before, but with no memory of him whatsoever.

He was almost sorry as he left her on her doorstep, wanting to spend every moment with her, to see if it really was her, or just some cruel trick the world was trying to play on him.

She turned to thank him, but he was was already gone.

Damon had darted back to the Salvatore household, his head and heart both reeling from the encounter.

He burst into the living room, where both Stefan and Elena was sat cozied up in-front of the fire,

"Stefan," he said urgently, causing the two others to look up sharply. Stefan frowned at his brothers expression, Damon had many emotions, anger, hatred you name them, but never vulnrable.

Not until now.

"Stefan she's here - Y/N's here,"

Part two here:

#damon salvatore x female reader #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore #tvd fanfiction #request #damon x reader #damon salvatore fluff

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loveharlow · 5 months ago

Text

SEVEN [SEASON 2] - 004

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[8.1k] A certain pogue is out of jail which means a certain handful of Kooks should be going in, unless they found some way out of it...

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ death, strained friendship, tw! topper, mentions of drowning

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ A lil TR x Sarah bonding until it all goes to shit of course, BUT A LOT OF GOOD THINGS HAPPEN NEXT CHAPTER! Sorry for the angst streak :/ also, the scene between TR and JJ is loosely based on this scene between Brooke and Lucas from One Tree Hill.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

THE SOUND OF CHICKENS CLUCKING AND KIARA PLUCKING THE STRINGS ON HER UKELELE SOUNDED IN THE QUIET OF THE YARD. The four of you — you, JJ, Kiara, and Pope, were in the surf shack at The Chateau. It was early in the morning.

JJ was waxing his board as Kiara played her instrument, you and Pope standing idly by. You were starting to get worried. It’d been almost twelve hours since your confrontation with Shoupe and nothing seems to have changed. You hoped it wasn’t all for nothing.

But another question was on your tongue…

“...Has anyone seen Sarah?” You asked, eyes squinting from the sunlight. Everyone looked at each other for a brief moment until Kiara broke the silence.

“Last thing she said was that she was going to meet Wheezie.” You hummed at her words.

You and Kie hadn’t spoken nor looked one another in the eye since last night, so it was safe to assume you weren’t the best of friends right now. To be honest, you haven’t been for a while. It was just so weird. There was a time you considered her one of your best friends. But now you couldn’t even face each other without some kind of cat fight ensuing. And you feared these disputes might go from verbal to physical if the pressure reached that point…

“That’s a lot of wax on your board.” Pope spoke, interrupting JJ as he waxed his surfboard. The blonde paused in his movements, side eyeing his friend. “If you put too much, it’s gonna be slippery.”

“...Are you tellin’ me how to wax my board, Pope?” JJ asked, standing up straight.

“I’m just saying, that’s a lot of wax-”

“No no no, you’re tellin’ me how to wax my board. Are you kidding me?”

“I’m just saying that’s a colossal waste of wax.” Pope shrugged sassily, turning away from the blonde.

“Guys,” Kiara butted in, looking between the two. “Really? Can you go two minutes without-” A car horn cut off the tail end of her sentence. The sound making all of you freeze. That was a very distinct horn. A horn that only belonged to a certain vehicle. A certain vehicle that belonged to a certain boy.

None of you said anything else, almost all completely still and waiting to hear it again. When the sound came again, you were the first to turn and run towards it. You rounded the corner of the surf shack just in time to see the Twinkie kicking up dust in front of The Chateau, a dearly missed brunette behind the wheel.

“No fucking way!” You exclaimed breathlessly as you ran towards the vehicle, almost tripping over your own feet. “Jombee!”

“Guess who’s out of the clink?!” He smiled, hopping out of the passenger seat. You knocked the wind out of the boy when you threw yourself into him, squeezing him as tightly as you could. He returned the gesture in full, the both of you laughing into each other’s shoulders as the others approached.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Am I dreaming?”

“My boy’s out of the can!” They all joined in on the hug when they got close enough, the five of you piled in on each other. You weren’t sure if what you said worked or it was by the grace of some other miracle that John B was here right now but you didn’t care.

“How’d you do it?” JJ asked as you all pulled back from the hug, forming a circle. “You bust out?”

“No, actually,” John B said matter of factly. “They dropped the charges.” Just then, three of them turned to you with knowing smiles on their faces, John B following their gazes like a lost child. “What?”

“It worked.” Pope told him simply.

“What? What worked?”

“Our little pogue princess here used her magic to get your ass out of jail, Bree.” JJ celebrated, nudging your shoulder playfully as a small smile grew on your face.

“How the hell did you manage that?” John B asked, scoffing gratefully.

“It was nothing…” You waved off. “I just put some pieces together, that’s all.”

“Uh, it was not nothing.” JJ assured. “She went straight up Criminal Minds on Shoupe and his league of badge-wielding sissies. Had a folder and everything-”

“...Wait,” John B cut in, the smile gone from his face. “Where’s Sarah?” The four of you looked to each other, shoulder's square and tense.

“...She went to go meet Wheezie last night.” Kiara told the boy, shoving her hands in her back pockets. “She didn’t come back.”

“SO, SARAH JUST DIPS AND DOESN’T CALL?” John B theoreticized, the only one standing on the boat. The five of you were lounging in the HMS Pogue that’d been stationery in the water behind The Chateau. John B was kind of dampening the mood with a Sarah question every five minutes but you all gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“I don’t think we should jump to conclusions. I mean, I don’t think she would just leave. No offense but, where would she even go?” Kiara threw out, leaning against the inside of the boat next to John B’s legs.

“But, I mean also, she left her bag.” Pope added, you weren’t sure how that helped the conversation.

John B just sighed, planting his hands atop his head. “I really think Ward got to her.” He offered a possible theory. “I mean, he tried to have me killed in jail.”

You turned around so fast, you feared you almost gave yourself whiplash. “He what?”

“Yeah. He sent somebody to the prison who...yoked me up and almost killed me.”

“Do we know who this dude was?” JJ asked. Judging by his tone, he had an idea in mind and he most likely could go through with it if he truly wanted. Between the inmates who didn’t approve of crimes against children and JJ’s connections in the jail from his dad, he could honestly probably set something up with just a name and a dirty cop.

“No, I have no idea.” John B shook his head. “Dude, I swear to God, one day I’m gonna kill that son of bitch.” He threatened mindlessly, finally taking a seat inside the boat.

“It’s okay.” Kiara tried to comfort.

“No, Kie, it’s not okay.” He snapped. “We gotta find Sarah.”

“No, literally, it’s okay.” Kiara said once more, pointing behind the distressed brunette. “She’s right there.”

The four of you turned to see Sarah…sitting in Topper’s boat.

As Topper drove.

At the sight of John B, the blonde girl stood up. “...John B?” Her small voice traveled across the water, Topper’s boat getting closer and closer. She shouted John B’s name happily, the boy simply looking away from her. Seeing your girlfriend on her ex’s boat the morning you get out of jail can’t be the best ‘Welcome Home’ surprise.

The four of you cringed, Sarah clearly not registering the picture that was being painted.

“Oh, poor Sarah.” You muttered under your breath, mainly to yourself. “Sometimes, I forget that you are indeed a blonde, teenage girl.”

“What the hell is she doing with Topper?” Kiara asked, loud enough for the four of you only to hear. Everyone shot small smiles at the blonde girl, confused about who she’d arrived with but glad that she was safe nonetheless. Topper slowed his boat next to The Pogue, allowing Sarah to cross over as he and John B exchanged awkward glances.

“My God, this is weird…” You mumbled, clearly not quietly enough considering Pope nudged your shoulder in warning. “Wh-Am I wrong?”

Sarah threw herself into John B, the boy returning the gesture wholeheartedly but you could tell he was still a little thrown off. “I though I’d never see you again.” Sarah told him, voice muffled into his shoulder before she pulled back to look him in his eyes. “What happened?”

“They dropped all the charges.” John B smiled at his girlfriend.

“What?” Sarah breathed out, a bright smile on her face.

“Yeah, I’m a free man.” John B said smugly, leaning one arm on the boat’s windshield.

“That’s amazing!” Sarah exclaimed, pulling the boy into her one more time. The look of heartbreak on Topper’s face was clear as day. Anyone could tell that he was still in love with her. You might’ve even felt bad if he wasn’t such an asshole.

“I know, it’s great, but listen, Sarah,” John B calmed her down, pushing her back by her arms to look at her. “They’re coming after Rafe.”

“...Good,” She said, surprising you all. Her eyes fleeted to you for a brief moment. “He’s completely unhinged. He jumped me last night.”

“What?” You all said simultaneously, eyes going wide as your attention went to Sarah.

“That’s why I didn’t come back.”

“Yeah, man. Rafe has lost his mind.” Topper butted in, leaning against the structure of his own boat. “Literally almost drowned his own sister.” You rolled your eyes. Topper has known how unhinged Rafe was all along. He and Kelce always stood by like bodyguards when Rafe would treat you like shit towards the end of your “relationship” with him — he’d grab you by your neck in front of them, pull your hair, call you a bitch, tell you to shut up. But they didn’t care. Or at least they didn’t care enough to say anything about the way Rafe manhandled you or the people around him. But now that Topper had a chance to be Sarah’s knight in shining armor, there was no way he was going to pass it up. “Thankfully I got there just in time.” He said, and you swore you saw the hint of a sly smile on his face.

John B turned away from the blonde on the other boat, tongue prodding against his cheek. “Well, I guess I owe you one, Topper, don’t I?” He asked, voice short.

He simply scoffed in response, shrugging nonchalantly. “...’s all good. I mean, somebody had to rescue your girlfriend, right?”

“Oookay,” You jumped in. “I think it’s time for you to go, Topper, don’t you agree?-” You tried before John B jumped in.

“That’s funny because she’s not actually my girlfriend, right?” He directed the question more at Sarah than Topper, the girl tucking her hair behind her ear and laughing nervously.

“What is she, then?” Topper asked, chuckling.

John B threw a hand out in Sarah’s direction. “Tell him.” He had a sure smile on his face, like he knew Sarah would say what he wanted her to. But it quickly dropped following her words.

“I…I’m with him.” She looked almost unsure of what she was saying. Like she didn't want to say it.

The four of you not involved in this love triangle cringed silently, all looking in different directions as your faces twisted while Topper basically wheezed. “Gotcha. You’re with him. Yeah, okay.” He taunted, looking to the four of you. “You guys clear on that?”

“I think it’s clear you gotta go now.” JJ warned, looking up at the preppy blonde.

“Yeah, I think it’s about that time.” He agreed simply as Sarah called out to him.

“Topper.” She said, leaving John B’s side to get closer to Topper’s boat. “Thank you.” She said gratefully, pulling the boy into a gentle hug.

Topper returned the gesture. “Yeah, of course.” He said softly, hand rubbing up and down her back gently. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He assured, and none of you missed the glare he shot John B behind Sarah’s back before she pulled away, letting Topper speed off.

YOU WERE STRETCHED OUT ON THE COUCH IN THE CHATEAU, TOSSING A BALL UP INTO THE AIR. John B and Sarah were outside on the hammock, the conversation they were having didn't look too pleasant. Kiara and Pope were talking in the Surf Shack, no telling whether they were cuddling or Kie was pushing him away. You were deep into thought when the door swung open, a chipper blonde waltzing in, humming some random tune under his breath as he went over into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

You looked at his frame in your peripheral before rolling your eyes and sighing, resuming your train of thought.

“...Y’know, you are really just take the passive part out of being passive-aggressive, y’know that, right?” He spoke across the room, closing the fridge and leaning against it, a beer can in his hand.

“Sorry. I guess liars just bring out the worst in me.” You muttered, voice full of attitude.

“How can I lie about something I have no idea about? Kind of hard to understand why you're so mad at me if you don't say anything.” JJ scoffed, taking small steps towards you.

At this you scoffed and rolled your eyes once more, sitting up on the couch and leaning your weight one arm, the ball clutched in your other hand. “Are you really just never going to say anything about it?”

“Say anything about what?"

"I mean, at first, I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. Like maybe it wasn't what it seemed but it's been days-"

You’ve been talking in riddles for days-”

“You kissed Kie.”

“...What?” He recoiled at the statement, standing up straighter. “No, I didn’t-”

“Yes, you did.” You interrupted, swinging your legs off of the couch and leaning your arms on your thighs. “In Charleston. At the gas station.”

He seemed to ponder on it for a moment before he found it — his eyes going wide and his jaw going slack before he stuttered to find words. “Th- that is not what happened. Is that what she told you?”

“She didn’t tell me anything. Neither of you did because you’re both liars and shitty friends.” You spat, standing from your seat and walking out of the door, hearing his heavy boots follow behind you as the screen door hit the wall. “Maybe this is a sign. Because clearly, you’re both made for each other. Do all liars and backstabbers have a moral code? Birds of a feather, y'know-”

“Can you let me explain?” He breathed out, his footsteps barrelling down the wooden steps and you walked through the dirt and gravel. You didn’t know where you were going or if you were going anywhere at all. It just felt right to walk away.

“You could’ve explained days ago.”

“Look,” He tried, gently grasping your arm to stop you in your tracks and turn you around. “Just listen to me, please. I understand what it may have looked like and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you but I meant everything I said to you. That kiss you saw? Didn’t mean anything.”

“A kiss always means something.” You rasped, snatching your arm away and looking him in his eyes. Really in his eyes, for probably the first time in days.

“Okay, maybe you’re right but it didn’t mean anything to me. I didn't initiate it or like it or anything. I can’t speak for Kie but I can speak for me and the kiss. meant. nothing. And you would know that if you had-”

“If I had what?” You cut him off. “If I had said something? As you so sweetly pointed out, I didn't say anything, did I? I’m so sorry if the sight of you and Kie playing tongue hockey while Pope and I are less than ten feet away caught me off guard so badly that I couldn't say anything when it happened.”

“And I get that, I do. But you aren’t listening-” He tried to calm you, planting both of his hands on your shoulders before being harshly shrugged off.

“Stop that.”

“...Look, Kie kissed me. We were talking and then she kissed me and I pushed her away. The kiss didn’t last more than five seconds and I didn’t kiss her back. I told her I didn’t like her that way, I don't like her that way, and that I wouldn’t do that to Pope or you, ever. I even told her about what me and you have going on. I promise you.” He reassured. “And to be completely honest with you, would it even matter if I did? I mean, we aren’t together. You said you needed time to figure out your feelings. You said that you didn’t want me to wait on you to figure out your feelings. You said that.”

At his comment, you stood in shock. A silent ‘wow’ leaving your lips as you looked around at nothing. “And you know what, JJ? I loved you for that. You were so patient and understand in that moment that I fell in love with you in a such a way that I couldn't just call you my friend anymore. And I can’t believe that you use what I said now and twist it into something else. You know that’s not what happened. I told you I didn’t want you to wait on me to figure out my feelings if that’s not what you want, that part is true. But what about when you told me that you would and that it was your choice? That you’d be there when I was ready?” You reprimanded, scolded. “And when I told you that if you did kiss someone else or hook up with someone else, I just wanted you to tell me and not let me find out from someone else. And you told me that there would be nothing to tell and nothing to find out because you were “all mine”. Or did all of that just coincidentally slip your mind?”

“It didn’t. I just…” JJ sighed, running a hand down his face. “I need you to trust me and believe me when I tell you that my heart is with you. It always has been and it always will be.” He told, eyes boring into yours, pleading. “...But a part of me feels like when all of your grief is gone and you feel better about everything. About your mom, your dad, everything. You won’t...need me anymore and you’ll try to push me away because maybe then you’ll realize that you don’t really feel that way about me. You just thought you did because…because I was there for you when you needed me to be.”

“Oh.” You scoffed, eyebrows raising. “You kiss someone else, one of our friends, and I’m the one who’s feelings are being doubted?”

JJ just sighed, stepping impossibly closer to you. One of his hands reached out to caress your face, this time you let him. “...I love you.” He said softly. “I don’t know how else to say it.”

“How about how you show it?” You whined, eyes getting teary and voice wavering. You gently grasped his hand, dragging it away from where it was cradling your face. “I am not using you to make myself feel better, JJ. What I feel for you is not a product of my grief or fucked up life or because you were there for me at just the right time. And maybe I needed the time to realize that before but I know it, now. I am sure that I love you but now I need you to be sure that you love me back. Okay, so why wouldn’t you just tell me about the kiss? If it didn’t mean anything, why didn’t you say anything?” You explained, two single tears running down your face.

Suddenly, JJ’s phone started to go off, notification after notification. You let go of his hand, using your own to wipe your tears, as he fished for his phone in his pocket.

“Shit.” He cursed under his breath, walking in the direction of the Surf Shack.

“What?” You asked, voice still off from crying and you followed behind him.

He rounded the corner to find Kie and Pope pulling apart from a hug, you could only wonder what they were talking about. You didn’t miss the way both of their eyes went between you and JJ. Between JJ’s red face and your tear stains, they probably had questions. You wouldn’t be surprised if they heard the heated conversation.

“Pope.” JJ started. “Just got a call from Guffy. Somethin’ happened to your pops.”

“LET ME KNOW IF I’M HURTING YOU, OKAY?” Sarah cooed, planting a bandage on Heyward’s hairline. By the time the six of you arrived, the older man was hunched over, beaten and bloodied. Not too badly but bad enough for someone like Heyward.

“You’re doin’ just fine.” Heyward told Sarah, wincing as she fully secured the bandage and walked away. “Thank you, darlin’.”

“Pop,” Pope started, walking closer to his father. “What happened?”

“Oh, I should’ve known better.” Heyward started, lightly touching the bandage on his head. “He came in just as I was about to lock up. Caught me by surprise. Once he had me down, he put his knee in my chest,” You cringed at the thought. “...and he asked me about that…about that key. From that drawing you showed me. And in case you’re wondering,” The older man gaining his sass back as he spoke. “I ain’t tell him nothin’.” He told the group of you, a hand on his hip with his lips pursed before his eyes went back to his son. “Now did you track it down?”

Pope fished around in his back pocket, pulling out a slim, gold key with a red string attached. The five you surrounding the father and son had sly smirks on your faces.

“I found it in Mee-maw’s old apartment above the pharmacy, just like you said.”

“...Shit, boy, you should’ve gave this to me. I wouldn’t have had to take a beatin’.” He spoke, shocked by the sight of the key as he twirled it between his fingers. “What’s the big deal? It ain’t worth anythin'. Why they want it so bad?”

“I don’t know.” Pope shrugged along with the rest of you. “First, I get this letter telling me that I need to go to Charleston. And then I meet this rich lady who wants me to give her a key that I didn’t even know was in my family.” Pope explained enthusiastically.

“Well, don’t y’all just sit here whinin’ about it.” Heyward scolded the group of you sporting long faces. “Figure it out.”

Pope’s face twisted at his father’s words as he shook his head. “No.” He said firmly. “I’m just gonna give the key to that lady. It’s not worth-”

“No, no, no, no, no, no…” Heyward interrupted. “Did I raise you to back down from a fight?”

Pope shook his head. “...No, sir.”

“Well, all right.” Heyward nodded, admiration is his eyes. “Now, I didn’t think ‘bout it before. I admit that. But now…” He trailed off, eyes on the key in his hand before pointing to the injury on his head. “Now? I’m interested.” He smiled smugly. “Did they say why they wanted it?”

Pope drew his lips into a thin line. “Somethin’ about an old cross. I think it might be some kind of lost treasure.”

“You know who you should talk to?” Heyward suggested, leaning forward. “Your great-grandmother.”

JOHN B STOPPED THE VAN IN FRONT OF SHADY ACRES NURSING HOME. It was the next day, the group of you agreeing to put it off until then considering it was a little drive away. Pope was the first out of the van, Kiara following as JJ got out of the passenger seat.

“Hey, um…” Pope started, looking up at the building. “I think I’m actually gonna do this one by myself.” It seemed like a general statement but his eyes kept zoning in on key.

“...You sure?” Kie asked, half-way out of the van doors.

“Yeah.” Pope shrugged. “I can handle it, I don’t really need you, so…” The clear attitude in his voice had you and Sarah, who were still seated, cringing in the van, looking anywhere but at the two. You figured whatever they talked about in the shed wasn't as good as it seemed. Maybe that wasn't a happy hug...

“Oh, we’re just all one big happy family today, aren’t we?” JJ joked, trying to lighten the mood. Now that he mentioned it, it did seem like all the “couples” in the group were off. Even John B and Sarah hadn’t talked since yesterday afternoon or all this morning.

Pope simply looked at the blonde before walking off, a gloomy expression on his face. John B restarted the van, ready to drive off while Pope did his task.

“OF COURSE I THANKED TOPPER.” Sarah whispered as you, her, and Kie walked back towards the van slowly. John B had made a pit-stop at a burger place where you, Sarah, and Kie went to get milkshakes. John B and JJ were inside the vehicle, it looked like they were having a hushed conversation of their own. “He saved my life, and I’d put him through so much already.” She added, sipping on her milkshake as you did the same, Kie nodding. “And you’d think that that is the crime of the century.”

“Tell me about it.” Kiara said. “All of this crazy shit’s happening, and Pope is giving me the silent treatment for not being in love with him.”

You gulped down the rest of you shake at her words. “I think it’s more so due to the fact that you led him on as if you were in love with him, but hey,” You butted in bluntly, sending a tight-lipped smile Kiara’s way. “What do I know?”

“People can’t control their feelings. You can’t force yourself to…love someone who you just don’t.”

“No,” You dragged out. “But people can control how they interact with those people. Kissing someone, sleeping with someone? That doesn’t exactly scream ‘I’m not in love with you’.”

“What the hell is your problem?” Kie stopped walking, turning to you. “You don’t speak to me for days and then when you do it’s the same passive-aggressive bullshit? I mean, seriously, what’s your deal?”

You stopped in your own tracks from where you had taken a few steps forward, turning to face the girl while still sipping your milkshake. “Does Pope know?”

Kie rolled her eyes and threw her hands out, Sarah watching intently. “Does Pope know what?”

“That you kissed JJ.” You said bluntly, eyes staring into hers.

"Wh-*cough*-What?!" Sarah's eyes went wide as she choked on her milkshake.

“‘Cause if he doesn’t and he’s already pushing you away like this? I can’t imagine how much he’ll hate you when he finds out.” You shrugged.

“...If.” Kiara corrected, shifting her. “If he finds out.”

You pursed your lips, looking up at the sky as you pretended to think while you shook your head. “When.” You corrected her correction before turning on your heel and walking towards the van.

“I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE THAT YOU’RE RELATED TO DENMARK TANNY.” John B exclaimed. You’d all returned to The Marina just as it had started to drizzle where Pope explained how his grandmother told him all about how Denmark Tanny and his wife, Cecilia, were Pope’s ancestors. “Are we in the presence of a royal?” John B teased, the six of you camped up under a roof of one of the shops.

“A king? We shall crown him.” JJ joked alongside JB, planting an imaginary crown on Pope’s head. “All hail the Lord of Tannyhill. We are not worthy!” He continued, the rest of you joining in on the chant before Pope stopped you all with a chuckle.

“Everybody relax. Can we relax, please?” He requested, the laughter fading lightly before his face faded into something more serious. “...I just keep thinking about the letter. The one Limbrey sent? It had the wheat symbol on it.” He pointed out. “That must mean it had something to do with the Royal Merchant.”

“Yeah. Somethin’ seems fishy…” JJ threw in.

“But if we find that cross, we can split it like we were gonna split the gold.” Pope continued, gleefully.

“And live happily ever after?” An uninvited voice rang out, the group of you turning to find none other than Carla Limbrey and her live-in bodyguard approaching. You all straightened, the expression on your faces going hard.

“You assaulted my father.” Pope was the first to speak, his lips curled in anger as he took steps towards the woman only to be pushed back by her accomplice.

“Oh, I didn’t assault anybody.”

“He can identify the psycho from a mile away.” Kie assured, Carla turning to her.

“Why would my employee…” She trailed off, turning back to Pope. “Assault your father? That's absurd.” She laughed, like the whole ordeal was humorous. “Listen,” She started, limping towards Pope. “We can keep on negotiating but the fact is, I want the key.” She explained, her employee pushing Pope up against a support beam causing you all to jump up.

“Hey!” JJ shouted, being the closest to Pope.

“And I won’t stop until I have it. I don’t have a choice, which means you don’t either.” She spoke solely to Pope. She stared at him intensely, her gaze never wavering.

“It’s Limbrey, right?” You piped up, her eyes turning to you as you leaned against the wooden railing of the dock, swinging the gold key around your finger. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

“...Yes, it is.” She said, her voice straining as she walked towards you slowly.

“Looking at the tide right, I’d say it’s about…” You taunted, dangling the object dangerously over the water as you peaked at the waves then back at her. “Twenty feet deep out there? So, if I just threw it in the channel, the probability of you finding it again is slim to none.” You explained, sitting up straighter and extending your arm completely over the rail. “Wanna give it a shot?” You taunted, letting the key slip from your fingers.

“No! Hey!” Limbrey lunged forward, nearly tripping over her feet. She let out a sigh of relief when you swiftly caught key in your hand again before it even had the chance to really fall. “...Please don’t do that.” She pleaded.

You could feel your eyes narrow as you relaxed against the rail again, the key fisted in your palm as you threw one arm out in the direction of her employee. “Get him to back the hell up.”

“...Back up.” She ordered, turning towards the man as he walked away from Pope, looking you up and down. Carla was quick to stand back in front of Pope once more, talking to him. “As I have told you from the beginning, I am willing to be reasonable.”

Pope eyes drifted towards you, probably catching on to the fact that the key you were torturing Limbrey with was fake, considering you were sure he had the real one on him. You nodded towards the boy, winking at him.

“...Okay.” He said, eyes back on Carla.

“Okay?” She seemed surprised at his cooperation.

“I’ll give you the key.” He told her, standing up straighter. “But I want the tape.”

“Of course-” Limbrey was quick to agree, but you felt like her employee was getting suspicious with the way he was eyeing you.

“Hey, Pope,” You stepped in, walking towards your friend. “You don’t have to do this, okay?” You told him, but your head was nodding slightly so he would catch your drift. Giving the key up to easily would only seem suspicious now. There had to be some kind of resistance on his end.

“No, it’s okay.”

“No, Pope, this is your family.”

“It’s fine. It’s okay…” Pope assured, putting his hand out for you to give him the key. “This is about your dads.” He added, eyes fleeting between you and John B. “That’s way more important.”

“Oh, you’re a good friend.” Limbrey sighed as you planted the key in Pope’s palm.

“The tape?” Pope turned back to her, eyes never leaving hers.

“Yes, give him the tape.” She ordered the man she brought with her, watching as he pulled a red tape recorder from inside of his jacket, handing it slowly to Pope. He didn’t hand Limbrey the key until the player was in his hand. “You know…” She started again, leaning into him. “I wish that you’d come to this decision earlier. We could’ve avoided all this unpleasantness.” She said before turning and walking off, her employee following behind but not before turning around with a smug smile on his face.

“It was nice seein’ ya, Pope.”

“Walk away before I beat your ass with her cane.” You told him bluntly, him offering the six of you one last grin before strutting off. You watched the pair leave, standing next to John B as a smile grew on your face. “How long do you think we have until she realizes she has your father’s old key?”

“Ten minutes.” He replied.

Just then, Pope turned around with both of his arms out, a small relieved smile on his face. “Whose idea was the fake key?”

You and John B turned your attention to JJ who was trying to conceal the smile on his face. “Hmm, I don’t know. Should we tell him?” John B teased, throwing an arm around JJ’s shoulders.

“Did hell freeze over?” Pope asked, astounded.

“I’m impressed.” Kiara said. “Maybe you are good for something.”

“Even a blind pig can find an acorn at times.” JJ joked as Pope and JB tickled him, poking his ribs and ruffling his hair.

“We gotta take this tape to Shoupe.” John B smiled, juggling the object in his hand as the released the blonde.

“Yes sir.” JJ jumped up. “Ward Cameron we’re comin’ for you, big boy!”

You didn’t miss the look of despondence on Sarah’s face. It was the visual epitome of being stuck between a rock and hard place. You knew what it was like to know someone’s a bad person but still feel obligated to love them. You seemed so easily detached from your mother that you never stopped to consider that maybe Sarah was having a hard time doing the same with her father.

“WHEN I GOT DOWN TO THE TARMAC, I SAW THE SHERIFF LYING DEAD ON THE GROUND.” Gavin’s voice came from the tape recorder planted on Shoupe’s desk. John B had requested that you go in with him to give the evidence to Shoupe while the others waited, considering you had cleared his name in the first place, he figured your help could do no harm. “And then Ward asked me to fly the gold to Nassau and dispose of the gun. He’s protecting his son.” The former pilot explained, Shoupe’s eyes drifting upwards to stare at you and John B. “It was Rafe Cameron who killed Sheriff Peterkin. I gotta be honest with you…I’m terrified. If anything happens to me, I’m telling you, it was Ward Cameron.”

John B looked up at Shoupe and the FBI Agent standing behind him, a deadpan look on his face. “I told you Shoupe…” He started, shaking his head slightly. “Ward killed both of our fathers and Gavin, and now you know Rafe killed Peterkin.”

Shoupe just licked his lips and nodded, taking a quick glance at the agent behind him. “...I know, kid. I know.”

Your brows furrowed at this. During your last conversation with Shoupe, right after you’d told him to drop the charges and right before you left his office, he left you with a few last words...

“I don’t know if I believe all of this, kid. And I can’t promise that this enough to get your friend out and put Ward behind bars. Maybe one or the other…but not both.”

Leaning forward in your seat, you gained Shoupe’s attention as his eyes turned to you. “What does that mean? ‘Cause last time I was here you said that the outcome we have right now was nearly impossible.”

The man just sighed, slowly rising from his chair as it rolled against the floor. He put both of his hands on his belt and cleared his throat. “We’ve issued arrest warrants for both Ward and Rafe…as well as your mother and any department employees involved. Rafe is currently in custody, the other warrants are being carried out as we speak. I can’t give ya anymore than that.”

“LLLLADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WARD CAMERON, KING OF THE KOOKS, IS GOING TO JAIL!” JJ’s voice boomed from the inside of The Chateau. The guys were inside celebrating Ward’s takedown as you rounded the corner of the porch, finding a solemn Sarah sitting criss-cross on the patio furniture with Kiara right across from her, giggling at the guys antics.

You sat the opposite side of the blonde girl just Kiara looked to her, the brown-haired girl’s face falling at Sarah’s expression.

“...Do you regret it?”

Sarah was quick to reply, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “No.” She stated firmly, biting the inside of her cheek. “He deserves all of it, and I know that. It’s just…” She cut herself off with a teary sigh, her voice returning with a quiver to it as her eyes filled with tears. “He’s still my dad. I can’t just pretend like he’s not.”

“No, I get it.” Kiara tried to comfort, scooting closer and planting a hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “I understand-”

“But you don’t, Kie.” Sarah blurted, a tear falling from her eye as her nose and cheeks took on a shade of red. “I know you’re trying to help but you just don’t get it...” She said, rising from her seat and swiftly walking off into the direction of the backyard and out into the rain.

You didn’t know if it was weird of you to go after her, considering Sarah and Kie were closer but you figured after Kiara sat there with no intention of getting up that it was okay to do so. Getting up from your seat and walking off to follow Sarah, you stepped out into the drizzling rain, going towards her figure that was stood at the edge of the tall grass on the shore of The Marsh, her arms hugging herself as she looked out at the water.

As you got closer and stood next to her, you could hear small sniffles leaving her nose. Maybe she didn’t regret helping turn her dad in but it was clear as day to anyone that she was upset.

“I know I’m probably not the person you want to talk to…” You spoke up after a few moments of silence, Sarah looking at you briefly. “But I think I’m the only person who can relate to how you’re feeling, right now.”

“You don’t have to come out here in the rain to make me feel better.” She sighed, fully turning to you now, damp strands of hair sticking to her cheeks. “Especially after everything I’ve put you through.”

“Sarah, I already told you that I forgive you-”

“But why?” She cried, swinging her arms out to her sides. “It would be one thing if I didn’t believe you but I made your life a living hell and I didn’t even like my brother then. How can you just forgive me so…so easily?”

“Because it wasn’t your fault.” You told her, moving your own pieces of damp hair out of your vision. “I know that right now you probably think you’re no better than them, your dad and brother. But you are not responsible for the bad things that they did to other people. Yes, you made my life hell and maybe I’ll always hold that small grudge against you. But you didn’t kill Peterkin, and you didn’t kill my dad, or Big John, or Gavin.” You explained. “And unlike them, Sarah, you owned up to your mistakes. You apologized to me and Kiara and you’ve become a better person for it.”

“..But why do I feel bad for still loving him?” She whined, tears falling faster now. “I tore myself away from Rafe after he tried to drown me but my dad…he’s still my dad. And I know he’s done bad things, really bad things, and I will never forgive him but for some reason, going against him puts this pit in my stomach that I can’t get rid of because ...he’s my dad.”

“But that’s the thing, Sarah,” You began, stepping closer to her. “He’s not your dad anymore.” You told her, putting a hand on her upper arm gently. “The way I think of it? He’s just a shell of the man you used to know. Like with my mom — I know it seems like I’m okay and that I hate her and that’s that, right? But that’s not true. I miss my mom. So much. But not the mom that being hunted down by the police right now.” You explained, your own voice wavering. “I miss the mom that would listen to my shitty guitar playing after my dad taught me chords and convinced me I was the greatest in the world. I miss the mom that would make cookies with me in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep. The mom I miss would never do the things that the woman I know now has done. Any of it. And I know it’s a hard thing, to separate who you grew up with and who you’ve come to know but Ward isn’t the father you knew, Sarah. He’s the monster you know now.”

Sarah just sniffled and nodded, processing your words as she wiped the tears and rainwater from her face.

“...And as for that grudge?” You started, a small smile on your face. “Maybe I’d be more inclined to let it go if you helped me out with something. Just a small little side quest…” You shrugged cutely as her brows pinched together. “Got any clue where Rafe would hide a stolen dog at Tannyhill?”

You managed to get a small chuckle out of the girl before her phone started to ring, Sarah fishing the device out of her back pocket — Topper’s contact card bright on display as her eyes darted to yours.

“We might have to postpone that heist…” She said, answering the call. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Topper’s voice came through, his voice faint and distorted through the phone. “Sorry to be the, uh, bearer of bad news here but��they’re coming for your dad.” He told her, Sarah letting out a deep breath. “My grandpa just signed the warrant.” He explained. You forgot his grandfather was a judge. “So, if you have anything you want to say to him, I would do it now. Just wanted you know.”

“Thanks.” Sarah replied, voice small and weak as she stared at her sneakers. She removed the phone from her ear and ended the call, sighing deeply.

You shot her a tight-lipped smile, a look of pity. “I’ll get everyone and we’ll go with you.”

THE TWINKIE WAS GOING AS FAST IT COULD DOWN THE NARROW STREET WHEN THREE COP CARS SPED BY, headed in the direction of Tannyhill.

“Shit…” Kie breathed, eyes trailing the speeding vehicle as she looked out of the window.

“Oh my God,” Sarh sighed, eyes wide as the severity of the situation set in. “Can we please hurry? I need to be there for Wheezie.”

“You think I wanna miss this?” John B said bluntly. Ouch. The statement and the way he said it even hurt you, so you weren’t surprised by the mean side-eye that Sarah gave him from the passenger seat.

The four of you in the back exchanged glances. There was a lot going on and it was difficult to know what each of your worried looks were for — Sarah, John B, or Sarah and John B’s relationship.

It wasn’t long before the van pulled up right behind one of the parked cop cars outside of Tannyhill, right outside the concrete wall. You all nearly tripped over one another scrambling to exit the van before it even came to a full stop — the sound of police chatter, footsteps, and sirens in the distance.

You all stood on your tiptoes, peering over the wall.

“Holy shit.”

“I can’t see, bro.”

None of you had a good view but you could see a small swarm of officers running towards the dock where Ward kept his boats while Rose stood helplessly by the door.

“Screw it.” John B said out of nowhere. “I’m going over.” He warned before hurling himself over the wall, the five of you watching as he landed on the other side. You looked at each other before following his lead, landing in the grass.

You all jogged through the freshly cut grass, approaching the doors where Rose stood just in time to see Wheezie rushing out as Rose tried to stop her.

“What’s going on?” The young girl asked, eyes on the huddle of officers by the water. “Why are the police here?”

“Wheezie…” Sarah called her sister’s name in relief, walking faster in order to reach the girl and pull her into a hug.

“Why are the police here again?” Wheezie asked, her voice soft and curious.

“Go inside,” Sarah told her, caressing the back of her head before pulling back to look her in the eyes. “Don’t come out.” Wheezie looked at her older sister with confusion and concern before nodding and turning to go back inside, a teary-eyed Rose guiding the girl back inside.

You couldn’t help but subconsciously notice that there was no sign of Marley — no paw prints, no food bowls, no leash, nothing. Not that he’d take that much care of her anyway. But it didn't look like a dog was being kept here. You felt bad for thinking about that at a time like this but if Rafe wasn’t holding her at Tannyhill, you could only think of one other place he’d take her, and if you were right then getting her back just became a whole lot more dangerous…

“Sarah,” Rose called before shutting the patio door, her voice scratchy. “Your father, he…he’s out on The Druther’s.” She told her, Sarah wasting no time in jogging in that direction before Rose could finish. “But I don’t think you should- Sarah!”

She tried to call her back but it was no use and the rest of you could do nothing more but follow Sarah out to the docks. Through the grass and over the wood, about six or so officers formed a line, effectively blocking the entrance as the group of you approached the scene.

“Dad!” Sarah cried, seeing her father’s figure on the third story of The Druther’s.

The officer’s attention turned to you all, holding their hands out to stop you all from going any further when Shoupe’s voice rang.

“That’s Sarah Cameron! Let her through!” He ordered, motioning you all through with one hand as the officers stepped to the side.

“What are you doing here, Sarah?!” Ward called tearfully from the top of his boat. He looked genuinely terrified.

“Dad, what’re you doing?!” She called from the docks as you all walked behind her, forming a sort of line on the wooden surface, officers on each side.

“Vic, you gotta get her out of here!” Ward’s attention went to Shoupe, pleading with the man. “She can’t be here right now!” He was straining his voice so much, you would think he was about to die, not be arrested.

“Just come on in, and you can talk to her!” Shoupe tried to reason, throwing his arms out in Sarah’s direction, trying to find anyway for Ward to turn himself in.

“Sarah, I’m so sorry, baby,” He continued to cry, going inside of the cockpit for a moment. It looked like he was flipping switches which made the officers weary. “I can’t!” Suddenly, the anchor started to reel itself out of the water.

If they didn’t get any units in the water by now or anytime soon, you feared Ward would get away. Once again.

“What’re you doing?!” Sarah called, stepping closer to the edge of the dock. “Dad, no, no, no!”

“Ward!” Shoupe stepped in, applying more pressure. “This ain’t gonna end the way you want it to!” Your prayers were answered and Shoupe’s warning was proven when four police water units came cruising towards The Druther’s, lights and sirens on display. “You don’t need her seeing this!”

Sarah’s jaw couldn’t close as she eyed each of the approaching boats, one after the other. Anyone within five feet of the girl could hear her labored, stuttering breaths. Just then, Ward started to climb down to the second level of the boat, causing Sarah to cry out once more.

“Dad, don’t leave!” Her voice cracked, at a pitch so high you’d question if it was even her voice. “Where are you going?!”

“I love you!” Ward assured, landing on his feet on the second level deck.

“Hey! Damn it, Ward!” Shoupe cursed. “Turn it around and get back in here!”

“Dad! No!” Sarah cried hysterically, watching as Ward closed himself off in the boat where no one could see him. The four units in the water were closing in on him —where did he plan to go? “Please don’t leave!” Sarah croaked one last time when suddenly the bottom of The Druther’s blew, sending a wave of silence over everyone.

Even the boats in the water slowed, not wanting to get to close to the wreckage as it blew again, each blast getting higher and higher, hitting each story of The Druther’s. Each boom sent each of you back a step, hearing Sarah’s breath hitch was what broke your heart.

You all threw your arms up, shielding yourselves from the debris and shrapnel that was now flying in the air as easily as dust. A thick cloud of dark grey filled the air, metal and other materials floating down into the water as everyone just stared.

It was silent until Sarah started to hyperventilate, a hand on her chest as you watched as her knees began to give out. “No, no.” She struggled to get out, a hand hovering over her throat as she cried. “Dad…dad!” You know someone should’ve helped her or comforted her but it was like none of you could. You were frozen in place, watching the boat go up in flames.

You couldn’t believe this. No, really. You couldn’t. Despite the fire and the smoke and the boat now in pieces, you couldn’t believe the sight in front of you.

Ward was dead?

You were supposed to believe that Ward was dead?

How could any kind of universe allow him the easy way out? How was that fair?

You didn’t even really notice Topper, who’d appeared out of nowhere but seemingly just on time, catch Sarah just as she fell. You saw it out of you peripheral, but your sights never left that burning boat.

Ward…was dead.

Ward Cameron was dead.

next chapter>

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

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yeosbbm · 1 year ago

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All cuz of peaches.

Smut | MDNI

starring: ranch cowboy! mingi x ex city girl! reader

genre: country, strangers to fuckers, porn with barely any plot 😭

summary: after becoming bored with the city you moved into your friends seonghwa and soobin’s peach farm in the countryside, however a lust filled attraction towards your neighbor Song Mingi down the hill has filled your thoughts. after letting your horniness get the best of you, he decides to give you what you want.

warnings/prevs: Readers a pervert..Mingi likes it though, Masturbation, Unprotected piv, Breeding, One case of impact play, Begging, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Sweet talk/names (if I’m missing anything else let me know).

A/N: Y’all honestly this work is more experimental and based off of a thought I’ve had if anything so this work may be off the wall and a bit…😭 but enjoy if you do ! Push it pt.2 soon to be released !!

Adjusting to country life wasn’t easy but it was definitely enriching. You moved into a peach farm and ranch with your buddies who’ve owned it since last summer. Soobin and Seonghwa. You decided that life in the city was monotonous and you couldn’t handle the cold, loud and superficial ambience of it all. So one day, you packed your things and decided to move in with them. The past 5 months have been easy so far, all you really do is pitch in with the farm animals and collect the peaches when it’s in season. Since living here, your mind feels so much clearer.

However, there is one thing that has been consuming your thoughts. You three’s neighbor Song Mingi. His farm and woodshed was down the hill from your trio. His presence wasn’t new to you because he was friends with Hwa and Soob, but your attraction towards him makes everyday you see him feel new. He comes by you and the boys house and farm all the time to trade goods or to just hangout for drinks.

And he’s referred to you with the same name since you’ve moved in. “City Girl.” Obvious cause for the nickname but you’re shocked he’d have it stuck for so long.

You couldn’t deny the want for this man. He was so handsome and had a resounding appeal. Even though he had this magnetism that drew you in further and further; you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him one on one. You felt you could only talk to him when he’s invited in by Hwa or you 3 are invited over to his ranch.

Soon you planned to go for it and invite him over yourself. But you had things to do until then….

You went out to the peach trees and began disposing of the ones who ripened too fast and became rotting mounds of peach flesh. You dumped them into the compost bin and then got ready to pick as many peaches as your crate could take for today. You picked and picked while the crate was finally halfway filled with them. However something caught your eye.

Today, Mingi was out in his own field. His hat still on but flannel unbuttoned, while his jeans hung low on his hips letting you see [almost] intimate parts of him. Your eyes are caught on his body, you can’t even view the vegetation and and lush field scenery behind him. He continues to dig his produce from his garden, piercing the fertile soil with his shovel…

You were beginning to get hot and bothered by the sight. His sun kissed tan and sweat sheened body moving in ways that make you feel aroused. The way his pants are hanging by his hips, you imagine him pulling them down and exposing his cock. You imagine the size…you imagine his large tall body over you while making you take all his inches.

Despite your conscious yelling no, you sit by the peach tree you were picking at and brought your hand to your cunt. You begin with soft presses and teases before adding circles to your clit. Your breathing is unsteady, you can’t help yourself..

The thoughts begin to be more vivid..his thrust, his voice talking you through the whole ordeal…how his hard working hands adorned with long fingers would feel pressing and curling against your walls. Your fingers are quick on your clit and your final thought brings you over the edge..the idea of him breeding you full. You cum and get your breathing and thoughts back on track.

What the fuck did I just do.

The realization rushes over you and the shock of you being this down bad sinks in. You adjust yourself and grab the crate of peaches you picked and made your way back home.

It was the next day and since Seonghwa and Soobin had to leave for a produce market deal you decided to be productive. You washed and peeled all the peaches you got from the day before, cleaned up the house, fed the chickens and took the goat out the stable to go feed and roam in the pasture until evening.

After all the hard work you wanted to do something simple for yourself and something out of your hard work. A peach cobbler. You baked it for an hour and took it out to see it with a beautiful crispy brown crust and perfectly soft baked peaches underneath. The only problem was that Seonghwa and Soobin left so you’re stuck here to enjoy it by yourself.

However you remember, Mingi is just down the hill. You put on a form fitting flannel and a nice skirt and shoes and lock up the ranch before you head by Mingis ranch house to asks if he’d like to indulge in the pie with you. Luckily, his woodshed was open and he was organizing his logs of wood and his tools.

“Hey Mingi !” He looks up from his tasks and his eyes lock on you like a target. He immediately stops what he’s doing and straightens himself as he stands. You fully walk in and close the woodshed door to get rid of the beaming hot sun.

“Hey city girl, what do you need.” He will never let the nickname go you think to yourself.

“Well I made a pie earlier and it’s still nice and fresh and I wanted to know if you wanted to come over and have a slice.” You’ve never really interacted with Mingi one on one, the nerves and his stare makes you bite your lip.

“Really.” Mingi is starting to eye you and look you up and down.

“Of course really, Soobin and Seonghwa aren’t here so who else will I share with.”

He begins walking towards you. “That’s all you want from me?” You look around and begin to notice how his own shirt was gone and belt was unbuckled. “Yea..just wanted to know...” Your eyes struggle to not stray from his face and drift down how torso. He gets closer, you can smell his cologne and musk from working in the heat. “You sure there’s nothing else you want…some sweet little secret you’re keeping from me.”

Mingi corners you in the woodshed. You’re backed up against a wooden table he made himself. He rubs his hands on the top of your thighs, he looks like he’s about to eat you alive. He whispers. “I know what you did yesterday…it was quite the show,,” He knows. He knows that you laid there and touched yourself to the sight of him. You couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“What do you want me to do to you city girl..”. Mingi slowly unbuttons the fitted flannel you have on. “Touch me,, I want you to touch me.” The way you seem desperate for him makes him lose patience and rip the shirt apart, causing some buttons to pop out. He removes your bra with one hand alone and as soon as your tits are free he brings one in his mouth. Sucking and nipping at them while pawing you everywhere else.

He finally backs away and sees your tits glistening and nipples hardened. He groans at the sight and practical rips your skirt and panties away. He parts your legs and sees your aching cunt wet with arousal waiting for him. He cups his hand and places it over your heat and licks the shell of your ear, before he says “Look at all this sweetness you’ve left for me darling.” Your body is crumbling, you just want him to touch you already. “Min put your fingers inside.” Mingi tilts his head and gives a sly smile.

“Tsk tsk tsk..you city girls always forget your manners..” You can’t with the games and formalities. You begin to whine “Mingi stop playing around.. fuck me.” Mingi slaps the inside of your thigh causing you to moan in both pain and arousal. “Let’s try that again but with some country charm.” He shoved two of his long fingers in your cunt making your hips lift a bit and a moan leave your lips. His fingers are filling you good, but he won’t move or curl them causing you to be limited in your pleasure.

“I’m not moving a damn thing until you ask me nicely.” Your eyes are watering, how are you being edged but you haven’t even reached the brink of cumming yet. You toss your pride away, “ Min I need your fingers so bad please fuck me with them please.”

“Mmm I’d make you say more but let me spoil the city girl for saying please.” He begins pumping his fingers in you and curling them at the right gummy spot. Soon his fingers speed up and he slips another in, making you moan and drool on display for him. “Mm baby’s so full with my hands alone.” You whine yes yes yes’s and can’t turn away from watching his fingers wet with your slick slide in and out.

He feels your cunt twitch and clench, he can see that you’re already close, he pulls his fingers out. You’re snapped back into reality and already on the verge of begging for his fingers back. He slides down his jeans and frees his cock from his boxers. He pumps his dick a few times before laying you back. He takes your legs and bends them to where you cunt is fully exposed. He takes a small lick and then deep dives in tonguing your heat and playing quickly with your clit.

Your legs are beginning to shake. He’s lapping at your cunt and making quick turns to suck and bring his tongue around your clit. “You taste better than any peach you’ve picked.” You couldn’t even properly register the compliment from how fucked out you were. He takes a few more minutes eating your pussy like a starved man before he comes back up to kiss you.

After his lips finally split from yours in a deep muted voice he asks, “You’ve got a rubber ?” You shake your head no but you refuse to let this fantasy go unfinished. “I’m clean, I’m on the pill…just breed me I don’t care I just want your cock.” Mingi just can’t resist you in the state you’re in, he kisses your forehead before he lines his cock to your entrance and rams it in.

One of your legs are wrapped around his waist while the other is hiked up against his shoulder. Your cunt feels so full, but there’s barely any pain despite being split open. The pleasure rolls up from your cunt up into your lower abdomen. Mingi can’t deny how he feels either, the pressure of your walls clamping on his dick has him in a whirlwind of ecstasy.

He can barely control himself, his cock is just drilling you and you can’t do anything but take it and soak it all in. “Min it’s so good, don’t stop.” Mingi cracks a quick smirk before rolling his hips to make the thrust more deeper and intense. “Oh yea ?…is it what you pictured…is it better than fucking yourself with your fingers ?.”

Soon he only holds on to your calves and raises them but slows down his thrust, despite slowing down, his thrust seem harsh and as if his dick just reached a new space in you. “Show me…show me how you touched yourself when watching me.” You weakly bring your hand to your clit and begin pressing quick circles on it until your hips start to stutter and lift. “Finish on me city girl, get me all wet.” He hits you with one last deep thrust.

You cum all over his cock and as soon as you do he spurts his hot seed throughout your walls. You’re both panting messes and mingi sits you up. He passes his water flask to you and watches as you drink in a hurry from exhaustion caused thirst. When you pass it back he takes a swig from it himself.

He holds you and gets a rag wiping off your sweat, kissing you on top of your head and massaging your shoulder blades.

“Let’s go eat that peach cobbler you were talking about.”

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blondeboyfriend · 11 months ago

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𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Hyakunosuke Ogata x reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This fic is @dolcezzzza's summer horror event, The Cabin! The title comes a Dum Dum Girls song which got its name from A Season in Hell by shitlord poet, Arthur Rimbaud. I'm not a fan, but each section of the fic starts with a line from his poem bc some of his prose kinda slaps. [ SYNOPSIS ] The summer camp you're working at is being terrorized by a unseen force that is picking off your fellow counselors one by one. [ WORD COUNT ] 15.3k [ CONTENT ] DARK CONTENT, cliche summer camp slasher film AU, murder/character death, gore, alcohol (binge drinking), suicide, vaginal sex, size kink (his dick is girthy okay), strength kink, oral sex, rough sex, facefucking, exhibitionism, biting.

Baptism enslaved me

The past week had been a blur. You spent seven days running around in the heat, trying to make an inhospitable boy scout camp into something inspired. Breaking it in was your duty as your group was the first of the season. The trappings of a long, snowy winter and a violently wet spring lingered around the facilities. Your arms ached from clearing out fallen branches and musty piles of decayed leaves. Your clothes were constantly mottled with cobwebs and dust. Every night when you collapsed in your twin-sized cot you debated on running through the woods towards the highway seeking salvation in the form of a kind motorist.

That’s why you hoped you would spend your last child free morning in the comfort of your cabin. And yet there you sat, listening to the camp director droned on. You melted in the midday sun with your back against a tree, a pitiful attempt to shelter yourself under its leaves.

“I’m gonna die out here,” Shiraishi, your partner for the summer, moaned.

He too was slumped by the tree, his head hanging down limply. You flicked him in the shoulder with your thumb and forefinger.

“You can’t die. Mr. Tsurumi still hasn’t told us what group we have,” you whispered.

“I think you can handle them on your own.”

Sugimoto turned his attention towards the two of you. His cheeks flushed from sitting in the sun. He didn’t seem to mind bathing in its rays.

“Can you at least pretend to pay attention like me?”

His words barely registered. You couldn’t stop staring at his face. A dusting of tan freckles spread across the bridge of his nose, elevating his boyish looks. He was the only one who got cuter after a week of hard labor.

“Sure,” you said, mind still occupied with the slope of his nose.

“Unfortunately our lead counselor will not be joining us for the first couple days of camp.” The director wiped sweat away from his brow. “I’m sure all of you have heard about Yūsaku’s unfortunate… situation.”

“We heard alright,” Usami snickered.

Yūsaku had forgotten to reapply sunscreen and got scorched from head-to-toe. The golden boy’s pained groans persisted through the night as everyone attempted to sleep. Yellow blisters ballooned on his skin, marring his pristine complexion. You tried your best not to think about his affliction.

“But I know we will persevere in his absence. I have high hopes for this summer. Let’s make it a good one.” He smiled warmly. “The campers will be arriving in two hours. Your coordinators, Mr. Koito and Mr. Tsukishima, will have your rosters and itineraries for the week.”

Tsurumi said his goodbyes and strided away to his quarters. You stood up slowly, stretching your arms above your head.

“I feel… like we’re missing people,” you said, twisting your waist. “Where’s your partner?”

Sugimoto looked around and shrugged. He was paired with Ogata, easily one of the most enigmatic people you knew.

“Well there’s Tanigaki,” Shiraishi yawned. “Inkarmat’s with him too.”

Tanigaki’s burly form crested the hill. He looked ashamed, like a puppy three seconds from getting kicked down the stairs. Inkarmat followed close behind with a cooler expression. She looked refreshed and practically glowed.

“Did we miss anything important?”

Sugimoto looked at him with big, sad, wet eyes and sniffled. “Camp got canceled. We’re getting sent home with no pay.”

“And it’s all your fault, like specifically yours,” you said with a glare.

Shiraishi mirrored your expression. “Mr. Tsurumi said your name.”

Tanigaki’s eyes briefly widened before adopting a more stern state. You knew he bought it for a millisecond.

“Am I in trouble for anything?” Inkarmat asked, laughing. She was unflappable.

“No. You’re not being held accountable,” you replied.

“Just in time for Women’s History Month,” Shiraishi added cooly.

It was June and the last time you checked Women’s History Month was in March. Inkarmat snickered and grabbed Vasily by the wrist, dragging him off towards the mess hall. The idea of going inside sounded practically orgasmic. There was zero chance you could comprehend what activities were planned for the day if sweat continued to drip down your spine all the way to the crack of your ass.

“Let’s get our shit and go, like, sit down somewhere,” you said, tone somewhat urgent.

Shiraishi nodded in agreement and offered to deal with the coordinators. He could tell you were in no position to talk to upper management. You decided to wait rather than go off on your own even though your impatience was on the verge of having a body count. Luckily neither Mr. Koito or Mr. Tsukishima seemed particularly interested in speaking to him, or any of the counselors for that matter. You were so relieved

There was a collective sigh of relief once you reached the shade. You scanned your roster, familiarizing yourself with the names listed.

“Archery on Wednesday?” Sugimoto said, voice slightly concerned. “That sounds cool, but should we really be giving kids arrows?”

“What?! We don’t have archery. We have knife throwing. Well that explains all the knives…”

“That’s not all we’re doing is it?” you asked.

“One day we’re dissecting owl pellets—Oh wait, there’s archery.”

“Do you guys have judo on Tuesday?” Sugimoto asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” Shiraishi affirmed. “And then we have Russian immersion right after.”

“Russian immersion?” you asked.

“You know, the language,” Shiraishi clarified albeit for no reason as both you and Sugimoto knew Russian was in fact a language.

“We’re doing that too,” Sugimoto said, yawning. “And wagashi making.”

Other activities listed were: friendship bracelet making and various types of yarn-based projects, mushroom hunting, canoeing, swimming, hiking and giant shogi.

Peace had fallen over the three of you. All you could hear was lilting bird calls and a burbling stream. Just as you had grown accustomed to the wondrous sounds of nature, you heard the crushing of twigs and dry leaves.

“It’s a bear,” Shiraishi whispered.

“There are no bears around here,” you said.

“Even if there were bears, Mr. Tsurumi has a shotgun in his cabin,” Sugimoto chirped.

Shiraishi sighed in exasperation. “Great because that’ll definitely save us right now from getting eaten alive.”

Despite there being a lack of bears in the area every hair on your body bristled. What if you all fell victim to a vicious wild boar attack? You weren’t even sure if wild boars inhabited the area either, but logic didn’t matter. All you knew was you didn’t want to die at camp. You didn’t want to have your flesh ripped from your body by an overgrown, ugly hog or any animal to be honest. You were too young; there was so much you wanted to do in life, so much you needed to accomplish.

“Oh. It’s just Ogata,” Shiraishi said.

Sugimoto’s co-counselor emerged from the redwoods, his expression blank and unreadable. He didn’t react to Shiraishi saying his name. It was if he intended on strolling past without saying a word. Usually you found this type of behavior tiresome and obnoxious, but he made it alluring and charming in an absurd sort of way.

“Where are you going?” Sugimoto asked.

“To camp.”

Sugimoto went to speak, but you butted in.

“You should come sit with us! We got our schedules and everything! ” you blurted out.

Your face was burning. You assumed you would’ve been smoother with your approach. Your fumble didn’t seem to phase Ogata as he took a seat right next to you, leaving zero space in between. Sugimoto was left alone on the other side of the picnic table.

“Did I miss anything important?” he asked.

Sugimoto wordlessly slid their group’s information across the table. Ogata looked it over.

“Mushroom hunting,” Ogata muttered as he ran his hand over his undercut, trying to smooth down a rogue lock of hair. “Hm. We’ll have to make sure the kids don’t pick anything toxic.”

Shiraishi groaned. “I figured everything out there would be safe to eat.”

“Wh—what do you mean out there? It’s the woods. Do you think Mr. Tsurumi combed through the entirety of it to make sure every little growth out there isn’t toxic?” you asked.

You found yourself compelled to say as many words as possible to make your presence known even if it was at the expense of your partner. It was shameful, but it was an unstoppable compulsion. Ogata’s presence implored you to take up more space. You laughed louder than you normally would. You smiled when your expression would otherwise be one of indifference. You said the things you would otherwise be too lazy to. Anything to get his attention even if just for a passing moment.

Ogata chuckled and your heart sang.

“I don’t know! Now we’re gonna have to watch them like hawks.”

“Our job is to supervise them,” Sugimoto chided.

“Excuse me for not wanting to do my job,” your partner grumbled.

You wondered how feasible it would be to get assigned a new co-counselor. Shiraishi wasn’t unlikable; you got along well enough. But you had a feeling most of the heavy lifting would fall on you.

Shiraishi rested his chin on his hand. “I just hope our kids aren’t assholes.”

“They will be. That’s just how kids are,” you laughed.

“Not if you scare them into submission.”

“Nope. Not happening. Not a chance,” Sugimoto said, demolishing Ogata’s suggestion.

“As long as we all set expectations early it shouldn’t be too bad. They just need to know what to expect from us. Kids are sedated by consistency.”

“Sedated?” Ogata asked with a smirk.

His voice, rich and gruff, reverberated throughout your body. It seeped through your skin, deep into your bones, saturating your thoughts with unseemly things. Your eyes went to his hands, something you always found attractive, only to be mildly disgusted by his dirty fingernails.

You tried to shake it off. “Domesticated. Placated. Basically they won’t act like monsters.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied.

“We should start getting ready,” Sugimoto said.

“I guess,” Shiraishi yawned.

You slapped him on the back. “You can’t be tired yet.”

Your partner whined that he was within his right to be tired which didn’t matter one way or another to you. It was going to be a long day; you could feel it. But not all hope was lost. If you were able to get within close range of Ogata it would be more than worth it.

The horror of my stupidity

The first day went perfectly. Your group consisted of six rambunctious, but generally well-behaved ten-year-olds. Shiraishi managed to overcome his lackadaisical leanings and took a hands-on role, but still deferred to you. You didn’t mind leading so long as he wrangled the more unruly kids. His commitment set you at ease.

The next morning was a quiet one. The kids were usually placid at first. Their cautiousness proved useful while foraging for mushrooms. They kept their hands to themselves and none of them ate anything deadly. The only unsettling thing was Tsurumi’s gleeful reaction whenever a destroying angel popped up.

“Mr. Tsurumi, would you poop your pants if you ate one?” a camper asked thoughtfully.

His dark eyes lit up and he gave the child a toothy grin.

“Why yes! Diarrhea and excruciating cramps are the first symptoms of alpha-Amanitin poisoning.”

Another camper pointed out what they thought was a wild carrot only to be told by an ecstatic Tsurumi that it was actually hemlock. The kids were riveted as he detailed the horrific symptoms of hemlock poisoning. Their horrified gasps when he told them there was no antidote seemed to thrill him.

Upon returning to camp it became clear that all was not well. Shiraishi was the first to notice the white sheet draped over a humanoid shape. It was partially obscured by one of the cabins. Tsurumi’s jovial facade gave way to flat expression and he sprinted off towards the disturbing scene.

“Hey,” you whispered, tapping Sugimoto on the shoulder. “Can you guys take the kids? I’m, uh, gonna be nosy.”

Your partner stood erect beside you. “Me too.”

“No,” you hissed. Shiraishi didn’t budge. “Someone has to be with our group.”

“Why not you then?”

“Be—because I was… I was… okay. Listen—”

“It’s fine. I got it,” Sugimoto sighed. “I wanna know all the details though. If you skimp, I’ll never forgive either of you.”

Ogata cleared his throat. He herded the campers away from whatever was shrouded under the white sheet. They were all clamoring around him, wondering when they’d get to eat fruit snacks. One was crawling up his leg and another was attempting to tie his shoes together. It made your stomach flutter seeing him be so patient with them.

Sugimoto took the hint and headed towards his partner and the gaggle of children, but he stopped midway to reiterate that he wanted all the details much to Ogata’s annoyance.

Once they were out of sight you and Shiraishi crept closer to and saw Nurse Kano kneeling beside what you assumed was a corpse. She lifted the sheet and studied what was under it, her expression a twisted combination of enthrallment and disgust. She stood up slowly.

“He’s dead.”

“We should call the paramedics then,” Tsukishima said.

Koito looked perplexed. “But he’s already dead. Shouldn’t we call the coroner?”

“You can’t just call up the coroner,” Tsukishima sighed.

Tsurumi squatted by the body and lifted the sheet. The director��s curiosity gave you a perfect view.

It was Tanigaki. His face was pale, eyes wide and cloudy. His lips and chin were crusted over with banana yellow bile. A desperate cry got caught in your throat. You wanted to look away and go back to your kids. But you were frozen, lost in Tanigaki’s lifeless gaze.

“Tanigaki,” you croaked.

Tsurumi’s eyes darted in your direction before returning to Tanigaki’s body.

“Otonoshin, go call 9-1-1,” he said calmly.

Koito rushed off to make the call. Tsurumi lowered the sheet. You couldn’t believe that you’d never see Tanigaki again, that he was gone for good. You hadn’t known him long, but you grew very fond of him.

“He can’t… This isn’t happening…”

You struggled to find the words. Seeing the outline of his face under the sheet radiated a finality that ripped your soul from your body.

“I wonder what happened,” he mumbled as you both walked away. “He looked…”

“I—I can’t think about that right now. I don’t wanna think about that right now.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

You wiped your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. Let’s hike to the lake or something. I don’t know.”

There was a sense of relief when you spotted the campers. You couldn’t help but smile when they broke out into a cacophony of questions regarding your whereabouts. In the midst of the excitement one camper launched a fruit snack at Shiraishi’s eye.

“You pull something like that again and I’m sending you to Mr. Tsukishima,” Ogata rumbled.

“Anyway,” Shiraishi said. “Who wants to hike up to the lake? Maybe race some canoes?”

The campers cheered and bolted in the direction of Tanigaki’s body. You and Sugimoto chased after them but they scattered like roaches. You could only stop so many of them.

“Hey! Were any of you dismissed?!”

Ogata’s voice cut through them and they immediately made their way back, heads hanging. You hadn’t expected him to be so firm with the campers. He was kind of withdrawn around the other counselors, or at the very least opaque. He mostly kept to himself though his brother was usually fluttering around him. You felt like you barely knew Ogata despite spending time with him, whereas Shiraishi and his oversharing made him feel more like an old friend or a weird cousin. As frustrating as it was, the mysterious haze that obscured Ogata drew you in. You wanted to know more about him, to pry open his soul and study its contents.

“You all owe your counselors an apology.” Ogata’s sharp gaze turned to the kid that hit Shiraishi with a fruit snack. “You especially.”

The kid looked terrified and quickly mumbled an apology. The rest of the campers groaned “we’re sorry” in unison. With the apologies out of the way the four of you prepared them for their hike.

“Look! More hemlock!” one the kids exclaimed. She knelt beside the plant, her face inches from its toxic, white flowers.

“Don’t get too close to it,” Sugimoto said, his voice like that of a concerned mother.

You could barely focus, but the camper was in your group so you felt compelled to try. “Or just don’t go around it at all. Leave it alone.”

“I’m just looking!”

“Looking that close is enough to kill,” Ogata said over his shoulder. “If you inhale the fumes, you're dead.”

This seemed to quell any remnants of curiosity. The campers spent the rest of the hike spotting mushrooms and imitating Tsurumi’s passionate infodumping. The word “creepy” was thrown around liberally. You chastised them for being disrespectful, but you agreed. His behavior made you uncomfortable, especially in the wake of Tanigaki’s mysterious death.

The lake was calm, the serenity of the scene much needed.

“Look!” a camper called out.

You thought it was cute that they were just as pleased to see the lake as you were. However something was riling them up as they made their way down to the shore. Some ran right back up the hill. Their faces paled, their eyes ripe with fear.

“Saichi, Saichi!!” one said, latching onto his arm. “Look!!”

Sugimoto crested the hill and looked down.

“Oh shit,” he said. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

“Stop swearing around the kids,” Ogata sighed as he joined his co-counselor to survey the situation. “Shit.”

“What is it?” you and Shiraishi shouted.

“Everyone away from the lake!” Ogata called out.

The kids bounded up the hill and cowered beside you, clinging to you for comfort.

“You guys, what is it?” you repeated, patting a camper on the head. “Is it something gross?”

“You could say that,” one piped up.

Sugimoto and Ogata turned to face you, but they seemed unable to speak. You freed yourself from the kids and walked towards them. Your absence caused them to swarm Shiraishi.

“It’s a body!” one shrieked.

“Um, it’s a lady!” one replied in a bratty tone.

Each step felt heavier than the last. Your body was screaming for you to turn around, but you couldn’t. You felt sick to your stomach. Kids made up stories all the time. They played pranks. Maybe they were lying.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“Maybe she’s just sleeping.”

“What are you? Dumb? She’s dead!”

Their voices were all melding into one. Everything began to blur. You knew what was coming. You knew what you were going to see. And yet you kept walking.

It was Inkarmat.

“Shi… Shiraishi. Take the ki…”

You forced yourself to look at the water, trying to ignore her putrefied remains. You leached away its calmness like a parasite. The tranquility you attempted to foster only did so much. You still felt like garbage, like you could vomit at any second.

“What is it?!” Shiraishi shouted back. “And,” he groaned, “I can’t take them all by myself!”

He was right. Being responsible for twelve disturbed children in the woods with terrible cell reception was asking for trouble, but you were too stunned to think up a plan of action.

“Ogata and I will be in the front. You and Shiraishi take the back. I’ll tell Tsurumi when we get back to camp.”

You nodded and started walking back to the group with Sugimoto. Tears welled up in your eyes as you made eye contact with a terrified camper.

“Hey! Ogata!”

He was still on the hill, staring down into the lake

“We have to go!” Sugimoto bellowed.

Ogata didn’t budge, and Sugimoto did not have the time for such antics.

“I’ll wait for him,” you said, wiping away your tears. “I don’t want the kids to see me like this anyway.”

“It wouldn’t kill them to see that you’re human,” Sugimoto said, trapping you in his gaze.

You sniffled. “Gross.”

Sugimoto didn’t have time for whatever was going on with you either. You couldn’t blame him. The kids had to take precedence. All you needed was two minutes to collect yourself and you’d be a functioning camp counselor again.

Ogata was still frozen in time. Everything was so still you didn’t want to speak, let alone move. You felt like the sound of a twig snapping beneath your feet could send the world into chaos.

“Hyakunosuke.” Your voice was soft, any louder and it would waiver.

Your legs shook as you made your way up the hill next to him. You made a conscious effort to keep your eyes on Ogata, nowhere else. You let yourself get lost in him and studied his face. You were curious about his symmetrical scars and how he got them.

“You’re not traumatized by this?” Ogata finally asked.

You thought about Tanigaki.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” he said, pointing at Inkarmat’s bloated corpse.

“Why are you asking?”

“I dunno. Curious I guess.”

Your mind went blank, but you kept speaking. “I’m… upset obviously. But I don’t want the kids to know… so… I’m—I am gonna pretend none of this ever happened and get through the week in one piece hopefully.”

“I know you can do it.”

His support did little to soothe you.

“I saw Tanigaki earlier. I saw his face. It was… He had puked all over himself and it just was so sad, like so undignified.” Ogata snorted, but you were too frazzled to comprehend it at the time. “And now that’s how I’m going to fucking remember him?” You tried to take some measured breaths. “Like was he in pain? Was he scared? Did he call out to any of us? Did he die, like, knowing we cared about him? Or did he just fucking lie in the dirt for hours, wondering why none of us came to help him?”

“Where was he?”

“His cabin. It kinda looked like he was leaving, or maybe he was going back in. He was on his back though.”

You couldn’t say anything more. You needed as much distance from the memory as possible. If Ogata wanted to know more, he would have to badger Shiraishi.

“Let’s go,” he said suddenly. “They’ll probably have to ask us a bunch of questions.”

“They? Who—”

“Maybe Tsurumi. Or his two guard dogs. Or the police. If we’re lucky maybe it’ll be all of them.”

Your bones were turning into dust, your body buckling under its own weight. You saw far too much today and said too much about it.

“Are you going to be alright?” he asked.

“I can’t move.”

You knew that in theory you could manipulate your body in such a way that would create distance between you and what remained of Inkarmat. You were practically screaming at yourself to go back to the group and embody Shiraishi’s laid back nature. But your fear was intangible, unforeseen, and there was no escaping it.

“Get on my back.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll carry you,” he said, readying himself to give you a piggyback ride.

“Are you sure?”

“Probably.”

You felt bad for giggling, considering you weren’t far from a corpse, but the lightness of it set you free. You hopped on his back and made your way through the woods, following the shrill voices of your campers.

“I’m going to need a drink after today,” Ogata grumbled.

“What do you mean a drink? I need an entire fifth to myself with one of those sport caps they have on water bottles screwed on top.”

“I can make that happen.”

Ogata said it with such ease. He was becoming the perfect distraction, a comforting beacon in a sea of blood and vomit.

I believe I am in Hell, therefore I am

You and your fellow counselors decided a night of binge drinking was needed to cope with the day’s horrifying events. Everyone traded stories. Yūsaku joined the party, finally able to walk upright without yelping in pain. He was blindsided by what happened.

“So that’s it? They’re dead?” he asked, face flushed from his sunburn and the copious amounts of watery American-style lager he was drinking.

You took a sip from a bottle of tequila. Ogata managed to screw a sports cap on top making your dream a reality.

“I don’t know. I mean, yeah. They’re dead. That’s for sure.” The alcohol had softened the blow of seeing both of their bodies. “Seeing Tanigaki fucked me up… Not that Inkarmat didn’t… It’s just, like, his was the first I saw, y’know?”

“You always remember your first,” Usami said as he wandered into the woods to relieve himself.

Yūsaku shivered and you washed away Usami’s words with an amnesia seeking gulp of tequila.

“Sucks for you though. You’re gonna have to pick up the slack.”

“I don’t mind. It’s what I signed up for,” he beamed. “The kids really liked Inkarmat though. I have some big shoes to fill.”

“I think you’ll be a hit. They might try to peel off loose pieces of your skin though.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take for the good of the camp!” he cheered.

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed.

“In a bad way?” he said, batting his long eyelashes.

You thought he was a total dork, but his optimism was infectious. Or maybe it was just your intoxicated mind being more open to suggestion. After having such a horrendous day it was nice to indulge in someone else’s dream. You knew deep down that there was no way camp would go on as planned, but it was easier to pretend that Yūsaku’s drive would be enough to pull everyone through.

“No, no,” you said, patting him on the head. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

Out of the corner of you watched Ogata emerge from the woods and sit on the ground right next to the campfire. He held his hands to the fire. You watched as he closed his eyes, his body relaxing, shoulders lowered.

“You’re so nice” Yūsaku said, giving you a bear hug and lifting you off the ground.

It caught Ogata’s attention and he narrowed his eyes as his half-brother spun you around.

“Yū—Yūsaku, I’m getting dizzy.”

He blushed and apologized. Once your feet were on the ground you joined Ogata by the fire.

“How’s the bottle been working out for you?”

“Amazing,” you said, taking another drink. “Are you cold?” You scooted closer to him. “Where’d your jacket go?”

“I’m not sure. Why all the questions?”

You didn’t think two questions were considered a lot. “No reason.”

You hadn’t thought this conversation through. You were stumped and floundering. You should have known better to attempt to flirt while drunk. Your chance was slipping through your fingers and it made you ill. You needed something good to happen, something exciting. You needed Ogata to figure out that you were charming and interesting and most importantly fuckable.

He closed the gap and leaned against you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Maybe. I… I have no idea honestly. I don’t know how I feel. Sometimes it’s like,” you took a sip of tequila, “I feel freaked the fuck out. But then sometimes I feel abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Like right now. It feels like it didn’t even happen. Are you okay?”

“I am. I only knew them for a week so they didn’t matter much.” His comments were so callous. “Don’t get me wrong. They were nice people, but that’s all they were to me.”

“Nice people,” you repeated.

“Yeah. Nice people.”

“Would you be sad if I died?”

He stared into the fire. “Maybe. Our groups get paired together for activities.”

“What does that mean?!”

“I’m around you a lot. Your absence wouldn’t go unnoticed,” he said with a smirk.

Your cheeks flared up and found it increasingly harder to hold it together. You regretted all the tequila. Spit was pooling in your mouth.

“Yeah, well. Of course it would. I’m, like, fucking… yeah,” you said, eyes half-lidded.

He chuckled. “Exactly.”

“I think the kids and the—their, uh, inarticulateness is rubbing, you know, off.”

“Oh yeah, that’s it. It’s definitely not because your blood is 90 proof.”

“You want some of it?”

You gave him a sloppy wink. His dark eyes widened, his eyebrows raised. It was the first time you had ever seen him so flustered.

“I—” he stuttered.

“Hey,” Shiraishi barked. “You guys seen Vasily?”

Ogata resumed his usual hard to read demeanor. You wanted to break the bottle in your hand and gut Shiraishi with it.

“Uhhhhh… Not like recently. I thought he was with you and Sugimoto,” you replied politely through a clenched jaw.

“We thought he was with you.”

“He could’ve went to bed early,” Ogata suggested.

“Hmmm yeah. I wouldn’t blame him,” you said.

“We should do that,” Shiraishi said, pointing at you. “We have target shooting at seven in the morning.”

You groaned. He was right, a good night’s rest was necessary. It killed you to say good night to Ogata, but there was always tomorrow. You didn’t need to rush things.

I looked on the disorder of my mind as sacred

You woke up the next morning with a persistent ache near your temples. You rolled out of bed and dug around your suitcase for some ibuprofen. You grabbed four and choked them down with room temperature water. It felt thick as it made its way down your throat. The sun was just starting to rise, the sky a dreamy shade of lavender.

It was weird to wake up alone. You hoped that it would be easier the second time around, but Inkarmat’s absence weighed heavy on you. You couldn’t figure out how she made it to the lake. The last time you saw her she said that she was going to fuck Tanigaki and to cover her ass if needed. She must have gotten lost on her way back from wherever it was she met him. Maybe she took a wrong turn and fell. Or maybe Tsurumi had something to do with it.

“Good morning!!”

Shiraishi’s cheery voice cut through your thoughts. You got up and let him in.

“Tsk, tsk. Still in your pajamas. What am I gonna do with you?”

He handed you an enamel mug full of coffee.

“Tsurumi wants to talk to us in an hour. I ran into him when I was going to take a piss.”

“Did he seem worried?”

“Not really.”

“Weird… I think he has something to do with it. He killed Tanigaki for sure and he probably killed Inkarmat too.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I think Tsurumi poisoned him with hemlock. What we saw lines up with the symptoms he told us when we went mushroom foraging.” Shiraishi didn’t look convinced. “Like do you think this is all a coincidence?”

“Why would he kill him though?”

“People kill without motives all the time.”

“I don’t buy it.”

“Seriously? He’s a creep. Who else would it be?”

“I don’t think it’s a person,” he whispered suddenly. His eyes shifted from left to right. “I think this place is haunted.”

“Oh yeah? Did Inkarmat read some passages out of the Necronomicon Ex-Mortis? Did she release the Deadites? Or maybe the soul of a drowned ex-camper is wandering the woods and picking us off one by one.”

Shiraishi was an idiot. There was no way the camp was haunted. You kicked him out and got dressed. You felt like you were moving in slow motion. You didn’t want to have some group discussion about what happened the day before. You wanted to put it in the past and focus on the kids and their activities. You wanted to finally have a canoe race.

When you walked into the mess hall it was dead silent. You took a seat next to Ogata much to the disappointment of Shiraishi and Sugimoto. There was an empty seat in between them.

“Where’s everyone?” you asked.

“No one’s seen Vasily or Usami since last night. And Koito’s with the kids. We’re just waiting on Tsurumi.”

“What about Nurse Kano?”

“I dunno…”

“Sorry I’m late!” Yūsaku said breathily. His hair was wet and his clothes were haphazardly thrown on.

“We haven’t even started yet,” Ogata groaned. “Sit down.”

Five minutes later Tsurumi came in with Tsukishima following behind like a shadow. He looked tired. His normally neat hair was askew, several strands of hair grazing his face, and his clothes were wrinkled.

“There’s no easy way to begin this discussion. We’re down four counselors. Genjirō and Inkarmat are dead, and apparently some of you are missing. That means there are twelve campers without any supervision.” He pointed at Yūsaku. “Yūsaku, you’re their counselor now. We’re also down a nurse. I received a note this morning from Nurse Kano saying, ‘I’m done with this shit. You’re not paying me enough and if I see you again I’m going to skin you alive.’ Needless to say, I would appreciate it if we kept any and all injuries to a minimum.”

Shiraishi raised his hand. “What if there’s an accident?”

“There won’t be any accidents!”

It was the first time any of you heard Tsurumi raise his voice. He took a deep breath and continued speaking, his tone even.

“The police have been informed about the disappearances. They said,” he sighed, “they’ll keep in touch.”

Sugimoto’s hand shot up. “Mr. Tsurumi, I have a question.”

“Yes, Saichi.”

“Shouldn’t we cancel our activities today and go look for Vasily and Usami?”

“I see no reason to punish innocent children for our failings.”

“Aww,” Shiraishi said quietly. “That’s so sweet.”

“It’s best to leave this up to the authorities. The last thing I want is for one of you to get hurt. We’re short staffed as it is,” Tsurumi said before ending the meeting.

The campers were full of questions, but overall the day was peaceful. Target shooting went well, and the kids loved learning Russian. Whenever Tsukishima wasn’t paying attention Ogata would teach them a few swear words. They lived for it, laughing like hyenas as Tsukishima tried to figure out what was so funny. Things felt kind of normal.

Sugimoto was the one to finally suggest going on a night hike after dinner. He thought Tsurumi was stupid for not utilizing everyone in the search, and it weighed on his mind all day.

“I can’t believe the cops didn’t show up,” he said, turning on his flashlight.

“That’s illegal, right?” Shiraishi asked.

Ogata yawned. “It might be, but they don’t care.”

“Whatever,” Sugimoto said dismissively. “I’ll probably regret saying this, but I think we should split up. We’ll cover more ground.”

“I’ll go with Ogata,” you blurted out.

Sugimoto’s millisecond of confused silence opened a window for Ogata to direct the hastily thrown together operation.

“We'll go further up the mountain and check the trails. You guys stay at this elevation and search the woods. I’m sure they got lost. I’d say let’s bet on it, but I know you’re all broke.”

Shiraishi nodded, but Sugimoto looked annoyed beyond belief. You watched as they melted away into the darkness eagerly awaiting your alone time with Ogata.

“It’s better if we both have one,” he said, handing you a flashlight. “You said my name pretty fast back there.”

Your palms began to sweat. You had been too eager.

“I don’t know,” you said, pushing a low hanging branch out of your face. “Shiraishi’s been getting on my nerves.”

You cringed at your lie. Hopefully Ogata would deem it inconsequential and forget you ever said it.

“Is he really that bad?”

“Uh, well, you know… He—sometimes it’s like he’s just so obnoxious.”

“He is pretty annoying. I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“I’m, um, just really good at tolerating people. It’s hard though.”

“You’re good at hiding it.”

You were good at hiding it because you loved having Shiraishi as a partner.

“Thank you.”

“It’s too bad we weren’t paired together. Sugimoto’s an asshole,” he sighed.

The two of you walked cautiously down the trail. You grew more and more nervous as it got steeper. Every twig felt like a landmine. You kept your eyes on the ground. It proved to be a terrible idea because you ended up walking right into Ogata. He fell forward, dropping his flashlight.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” you said, cradling him in your arms.

He looked up at you. His forehead and his arms were covered in swaths of raw skin and blood. He tried to get up, but only managed to roll onto the ground. You pulled off your sweatshirt and put it under his head as a makeshift pillow.

You dug through your backpack for your first aid kit. It was nearly empty already because your group of campers loved skinning their knees. You found a few alcohol wipes and some gauze. You wanted to punch your past self for not refilling it, but now wasn’t the time for self-flagellation.

“It’s gonna sting.”

“I’m not a child. You don’t need to remind me.”

“Damn, okay,” you said, cleaning the wound on his head.

“Sorry…” he mumbled.

It was just a superficial scrape, but of course the urge to spiral was present. Despite your attempts to be optimistic your mind went to the worst places.

I gave him a traumatic brain injury. I cracked his beautiful skull. I killed him and Mr. Tsurumi is going to be so fucking mad at me!

“No. I’m sorry. I’m the idiot that made you fall.”

“Good point. I take back my apology.”

You slapped an alcohol wipe on one of the cuts on his arm. His pained groan was like an angel singing your name.

“What day is it?” you asked, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs.

“June 8th.”

“What’s the time?”

He paused. “I don’t know. It was around 10 when we left.”

“Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous? Sleepy?”

“No.”

“Do you remember what ha—”

“You shoved me and I fell.”

“Shove makes it seem like it was intentional.”

“It was.”

“No it was not.”

He sat up. “Yes it was. You shoved me because you have a huge crush on me and you can’t stand it.”

“You definitely damaged your brain. Like, you’re so unwell right now. It’s sick.”

He laughed. “Don’t deny it. You can be honest with me.”

“I was looking at the ground! There were exposed roots!”

He pulled his arm away from you and grabbed you by the jaw. “If that’s all it was, why do you look nervous?”

“That’s just my face.”

“It’s a cute one.”

You panicked and tried to think of a cool, couth response, but nothing came. You just sat there, brain filled with white noise. The air was heavy; you felt like you were choking. You kept your breathing steady, but it was a herculean effort. All your energy was going into keeping yourself in one piece. The longer those four words sank in, the harder it was to retain your humanity.

It’s a cute one. It’s a cute one. It’s a cute one.

Your hesitation evaporated and you clumsily kissed him. Despite his words he seemed unimpressed with your agency, giving nothing in return. And in turn you felt nothing. It was like you were holding him hostage rather than sweeping him off his feet.

“Um, we should… go back to camp.”

The relief you felt upon finding Sugimoto and Shiraishi was immense. However your fellow counselors remained missing. You couldn’t help but feel like you were hunting for ghosts.

I found I could extinguish all human hope from my soul

Much to the chagrin of Shiraishi, Tsurumi asked you to help Yūsaku and his twelve campers. It wasn’t ideal. Managing kids you weren’t familiar with was rough. They tested you left and right. They relished in lying about their names, snickering when you’d try to chastise them. They seemed to have a modicum of respect for Yūsaku though.

“How’s it going?” Shiraishi asked during your lunch.

“It’s—”

“Well I’m having a terrible time. These kids hate me. They keep asking when you’re coming back.”

You laughed. “Did you tell them never? Because I don’t see Tsurumi letting the golden boy stuck with a bunch of kids on his own.”

“It’s not like he needs you! I’m dying out there!”

“You have Sugimoto.” You sighed. “And Ogata.”

“They’re barely any help. Sugimoto’s too busy trying to solve a murder mystery like he’s Columbo. And Ogata’s too busy being his weird self. I think he’s pissed off at Hanazawa.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t know why. Maybe he’s jealous that Hanazawa is—”

“Working with me?” you asked, your eyes full of stars.

“Psh. No. Part of me thinks Ogata just wants to be Tsurumi’s pet.”

“Oh. No yeah, you’re right.” You stared off into space. “He totally wants to be the golden boy.”

“You’re both wrong.” Ogata silently took a seat next to Shiraishi. Your head was swimming. “I just hate being here.”

“Then why glare at your brother?” Shiraishi asked haughtily.

“Are you an only child, Shiraishi?”

“Probably.”

Ogata smirked and changed the subject. “How is working with him?”

His tone wasn’t threatening, but the flatness of his gaze made you feel like you were being interrogated.

“It’s fine!” you exclaimed a bit too hurriedly. You tried to save face by tempering your tone to match the coolness of Ogata’s. “I mean, yeah, like, it’s okay. The kids like him, which is good because they can’t stand me. I don’t mind him, you know, taking the lead. He is the lead counselor.”

“It looked like he was doing all the work.”

His words were a wasp’s sting.

“You’d be stupid not to take advantage of that dork,” Shiraishi said in an attempt to bandage your wound.

“I’m not taking advantage of him.”

“Shiraishi has a point.”

“No he does not!”

“You can admit it,” Ogata teased.

“There’s nothing to admit. What am I supposed to admit?”

He paused.

“You know you hate being here just as much as everyone else.”

You glared at Ogata. “If I hated being here, I would leave.”

“Sure you would.”

“Yeah! Exactly. I would.”

Shiraishi scurried away awkwardly, though to be honest you barely noticed.

“I don’t know,” he chuckled. “How can you be so sure of something like that?”

“Because—because I know myself? This isn’t, like, some hypothetical thing. If I didn’t want to be here, I would leave. But I’m invested in whatever the fuck is going on… And I like my kids! I care about them! Okay, not the ones I have right now. Honestly fuck those ki—oh god.”

Ogata was trying to hold back a laugh. “Child hater.”

“I don’t hate kids! Even kids that are little shits. I’m just…” You carefully chose your words. “Not fond of some.” You regained your conviction. “Regardless it’s not like I could ever leave any of them behind.”

“It’s so funny.”

You tilted your head, awaiting an elaboration.

“You all say the same thing. The way you say it is different, but—”

“What are you talking about?”

He stood up and patted you on the head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

You thought about chasing after him, but there was only ten minutes left of your lunch and you hadn’t even touched your food. You choked it down and searched for Yūsaku. You found him sitting in the grass, telling the kids one of his numerous summer camp tales.

“And that’s how I learned you should never eat mud.”

You joined their circle. “How was the jigen-ryū class?”

“Boring,” one chirped.

“Lame,” another admitted.

“I hate Mr. Koito.” one said bluntly. “Why does he scream so much?”

Yūsaku nervously chastised the kids.

You giggled. “That’s a great question. But I have an even better one: who wants to have a canoe race?”

The kids were eager for normalcy, typical summer fun, and you couldn’t blame them. You sought it yourself. Anything to shake off your conversation with Ogata. You felt like it poked holes in your brain. You hoped in utter desperation that the laughter of children and the afternoon sunlight dancing across Yūsaku’s precious face would fill them.

And for a brief moment they did. But Ogata remained a looming presence. He was so distracting you came dead last in the race. Your eyes couldn’t focus on anything other than him watching from a distance like a hunter.

A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned

You went to bed early that night though you failed to drift away. You were in a fetal position, snuggled up in your sleeping bag, looking up at the Milky Way through your window for hours. You couldn’t get Ogata out of your mind.

“Idiot,” you murmured as you flipped over onto your back, not sure if you were calling him an idiot or yourself.

You stretched out and took up every inch of your bed. Your joints popped, the satisfaction from the sound soothed your soul. There was the chance this was as worse as it would get. Yes, people were dropping like flies, disappearing mysteriously. Yes, the camp director was a blatant freak. Yes, Ogata was fucking with your head. But the canoe race was normal! It was benign and expected! Those moments were few and far between so far. Maybe this was a good omen, a sneak peak of the placidity that was going to follow.

Pretending to be optimistic successfully lulled you to sleep. But rapid, and somehow pathetic, pounding on your cabin door ripped you from your slumber. You groaned audibly, hoping whoever was in desperate need of your attention would feel a semblance of shame. You got out of bed at a sloth’s pace and sighed before opening the door.

“Are you busy?” Ogata asked.

“I was sleeping.”

He gently pushed you out of the way and entered the cabin, a stiffness and urgency embodied in the swift movement. Your grip on consciousness was tenuous at best so you didn’t protest.

“Everything, uh, good?” you asked.

“If I said I wanted to apologize, would you believe me?”

You scoffed. “Not after asking me that.”

He sat down on your bed, and you struggled to hide your disgust. You couldn’t stop thinking about the fetid remnants of the woods that lingered on his sweatpants. Having him take them off crossed your mind.

“Well I am.”

“You’re what?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it… All the stuff I said.”

“You sure about that?”

He attempted to smooth down a strand of his hair. A hoarse mhm resonated in his throat.

“You’re so easy to rile up. I couldn’t resist.”

“Well,” you groaned. “Thanks. I guess.”

You figured he’d get up and leave, but instead his presence lingered, growing heavier by the second. His eyes were restless, his body tense.

“Do you mind if I stay the night?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the floor.

It was such an abrupt question. All you could do was choke out an affirmation. You knew kicking him out was the smart thing to do, but his perceived permanence on your bed overwhelmed you. The rational voice in your head grew fainter, your lust forcing its way through your papery veil of self-preservation. You were nothing more than your repressed urges.

“Are you sure?”

Dumb question. You’d never been so sure of something in your life. You couldn’t recall any form of previous trepidation though you weren’t trying particularly hard to do so.

“Yeah,” you answered, sitting beside him.

You leaned in. His sweatshirt smelled like wet leaves and copper. You used his thigh to steady yourself. He turned his head, his dark eyes looking through you. It was unnerving, but not enough to trigger common sense.

“Aren’t you hot?” you asked, laughing as the question tumbled from your mouth. His answer didn’t matter. “You’re making me sweat.”

You tugged at his sweatshirt. It felt dirty, heavy with sweat and earth. He took it off without a stitch of hesitation. Your eyes trailed down his arms, longing for them to be wrapped around you. It was the only way you’d make it through the night.

“I run cold,” he practically purred.

Cliche comments ran through your head.

That’s so funny because I could totally keep you warm, big boy.

I’m burning up, why don’t you cool me off with your stupid, gorgeous body?

“That’s cool.” Your brain shut down. “I want you.”

Your bluntness seemed to please him. His lips curled into a half smile before he pulled you into a kiss. He wasted no time, pushing his tongue past your teeth. He caressed your cheek as his tongue brushed up against yours, soft and warm. He pulled you onto his lap and rubbed the inside of your thigh with his rough hands. You tugged at his shirt, the cotton damp with sweat. He lifted it up and pulled it off, letting it drop on the floor.

“You should lie down,” you said, breath hot against his neck.

“Am I easier to take advantage of that way?”

“Excuse me?”

Your question went unheeded and he reclined on your bed, beckoning you to straddle him. You looked down at his body, muscles perfectly toned like they were crafted by the gods. He looked so pleased with himself, like he’d won an award. His cock was hard against the thin fabric of his sweatpants. It ached against you.

You studied his face. There were a few faint, red scratches across his cheek. You ran your thumb down one, feeling the slightly swollen skin. He winced.

“What happened?” you asked.

He exhaled. “I fell.”

“Like recently or?”

“On my way over.”

“How?”

His right eye twitched.

“I tripped,” he said, words clipped.

“On what?”

You never knew him to be clumsy, if anything he was rather feline in his agility. His fingers dug deeper into your hips before rolling you onto your back and getting on top of you. He pressed his rough palm over your lips.

“Hush.” His tone was nauseatingly sweet.

“I’m serious, are you okay?” you asked, voice muffled by his hand.

He titled his head and stared into your eyes with a calculated gaze.

“Isn’t it a little late for you to be so talkative?”

It was astounding how easy it was for him to shut you down. Granted you weren’t steadfast when it came to Ogata. You couldn’t take a firm stance. How could you hold onto a belief when you couldn’t predict his reaction to it? You wanted to be palatable and if that meant bending like a willow to his incomprehensible will then so be it.

“You’re so cute,” he said, removing his hand. “You’re like a scared deer.”

He lifted up the oversized t-shirt you liked to sleep in and pulled off your underwear. His fingers grazed your folds, coating them in your arousal. You swallowed hard, spit catching in your throat, as he slid them into your cunt. They curled inside you, pressing against your walls. The pressure made your skin tingle.

His gaze was attentive but cold. You felt studied, examined. It bred a twinge of looming uncertainty, one that settled in your stomach. But he didn’t hesitate with a remedy. He pushed his fingers as far as they could go and began fucking you with them. Your concern disappeared as fast as it came. Your eyes glazed over, ensnared by the man looming over you. You tried in vain to hold back your pleased whimpers.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re falling apart so fast.” His lips grazed your lobe.

Apologizing crossed your mind, but you kept your mouth shut. You writhed underneath his weight, rutting up against his fingers as they fucked your slick cunt.

Your hands wandered down his back. His skin was soft and sticky with sweat. You let your fingers trail down his spine before settling on the crest of his ass. You yanked down his briefs and dug your fingers into the taut flesh. He flashed an impish smile and pulled them down, kicking them off. The head of his cock was leaking precum. He tugged on it and bathed in your starved gaze.

“You want me so bad,” he said haughtily. “Tell me how bad you want me.”

You sighed as he jerked himself off. “I feel like I’ll die if you don’t fuck me.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I need you.”

“Then beg for it,” he growled.

“Please. Please fuck me.”

He rubbed his cock up against your folds. “Say my name.”

“Please fuck me, Hyakunosuke. Please. Please. Please.”

He nuzzled your neck and pressed his cocktip against your clit. “More.”

You continued to plead, body aching for him to fuck you. He guided his cock inside you, its girth stretching your tight cunt. He groaned as he pushed it in further. His movements were slow, and he seemed to relish in your whimpering.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he commanded as he thrust into you.

“Really good. Really fucking good,” you babbled.

He let out a pleased sigh and fully submerged his length within you. His tip pressed up against your cervix, sending a shock to your core. You yelped as he pushed against it harder.

“Such a big cock for such a precious little thing.”

His thrusts drove you into the mattress, making your cot creak. His touch wasn’t gentle. He didn’t hesitate to bend your body to his liking, to show off his strength. It was deliciously overwhelming. He laced his fingers in your hair and pulled. He manhandled your legs to get them over his shoulders. You knew his force would leave blooms of bruises on your ankles, bruises you’d have to explain away when your friends inquired about your life after hours.

Being at his will was exciting.

“Do you like getting fucked like a whore?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned.

He grinned. You wanted to lick his teeth, but settled for hugging his cock with your cunt.

“Fuck,” he hissed, jaw clenched. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

His pace quickened and his breathing grew labored. He seemed weakened by his impending climax. His eyes were softer, his words lacked their previous domineering weight. He looked like he was in agony. Seeing him fall apart made your clit throb. It was almost too much. Your body was immersed in euphoria, drowning in an obscene amount of debauched delight. To finally experience something you craved for so long was almost maddening. So many times you dreamt about him lording over your body under the serene light of the moon. And now you were living it out.

You wanted him to come first, to feel his cum flood your cunt, but your body wasn’t on the same page. Your impending climax was bubbling up inside you. Resisting it was a futile feat. What good was it to deny yourself such ecstasy?

“Harder,” you moaned.

He repositioned himself so he could drive his cock deeper in. You felt like you were going to burst. You dug your fingers into your mattress, gripping the tangled up sheets. The feeblest attempt to keep yourself tethered to this world lest you ascend to an Icarus end. Your back arched as a numinous groan crept up from the depths of your being, a simple carnal prayer. A cluster of whimpers followed in its wake.

Every inch of tension melted away as you let your orgasm consume you. You nearly forgot where you were until you heard Ogata’s pained voice.

“Where do you want it?” he asked urgently.

“Inside, inside,” you babbled.

He grimaced and pulled his cock out of your dripping cunt. He straddled your chest and held your head, forcing you to crane your neck. He pushed his cock past your lips and rutted against your face. His touch became gentle, hands almost cradling the base of your skull. He held you like you were fragile, like he could rip you to pieces if he lacked restraint.

“Look up at me,” he groaned as his cum splattered against the back of your throat.

You looked up at him, as he continued to thrust. Spurts of his piquant cum filled your mouth. You thought it would never end. Tears welled up in your eyes as his cum trickled from the corners of your mouth. Once his cock stopped twitching he placed his hand on your forehead and pushed you off. He then rolled over onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling.

“Um,” you said, crashing back into reality.

You hoped no one heard what happened. Your cabin was the one closest to the outskirts of everything, but still. Your cot’s incessant squeaking plagued you. Your breathy moans haunted you. Ogata’s audible grunting was a dark cloud swirling above your head. You missed your fucked out state of mind. You debated on chasing it. You thought about grabbing his semi-erect cock, but the feeling faded from your grasp. It didn’t help that he looked completely dissociated from the situation.

“Hyaku,” you paused, his first name felt too intimate, ”Ogata?”

You rolled over onto your side and placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“Sure,” he said before turning his back to you.

“Okay,” you replied, molding your body beside his.

You expected him to scoot away from you, or retire to the unforgiving floor. But instead he pressed himself up against you. You draped an arm over him and nuzzled your face against his undercut as you drifted away.

Life is the farce we are all forced to endure

Waking up alone wasn’t a surprise though it was still disappointing.

The sun roused you, making you painfully aware of your lack of clothes and the dried cum in the corners of your mouth. Visions of a relaxing shower danced through your mind. You could practically feel the steam surrounding you. However, leaving your cabin was precarious. No one could see you like this, skittering around and clutching your toiletries like they were gold. You’d wither away if perceived.

“I got this,” you whispered to no one in particular.

You stepped out into the morning light. It felt early. You didn’t hear any kids or any sort of chatter which was a relief. The outside world was safe; it was secure. You took a deep breath and took in the fresh air.

“Good morning.”

Your exhale lodged itself in your throat, forcing out a pathetic cough.

“Fuck. I mean good morning, Mr. Tsurumi.”

He looked tired, less triumphant, and part of you wondered if he was going to kill you.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be up this early.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be either,” you said, trying to mask your discomfort. “Anyway—”

He interrupted your attempt at a polite getaway. “How well do you know Yūsaku?”

“Uh. I guess about as well as you can know anyone given the amount of ti—”

“Did he seem unhappy? Dissatisfied?”

“That sunburn made him pretty miserable.”

He studied you. “Anything beyond that?”

“I—yeah no, I think that’s, uh, the only thing.”

“I see. Well I won’t keep you any longer.”

You simply smiled and nodded. Once he was out of sight you sprinted to the showers, eager for the cleanly embrace of its solitude. It was exactly what you wanted, what you needed. You needed to wash away whatever that conversation had been. You couldn’t figure out why he was so curious about Yūsaku. Your relationship with him was friendly but superficial. You wouldn’t know how to describe him in any meaningful way if prompted to, but made an attempt anyway.

He’s Ogata’s half-brother. He can tell two different stories about eating mud as a little kid. He sucks at putting on sunscreen. His eyelashes are pretty. He has a general golden boy vibe that is almost insufferably charming.

You knew essentially nothing. Whereas you could write an entire thesis regarding the random facts about Shiraishi you learned against your will.

You spent the entirety of your shower, wracking your brain over the camp director’s questioning. Unfortunately your brain wasn’t operating at full capacity. The night before lingered around you like a ghostly shroud. Your legs were peppered with bruises and your hips were sore. There were so many random aches echoing throughout your body.

By the time you were done the shrill voices of children flooded the camp. You hurriedly made your way back to your cabin, careful to avoid running into anyone. But despite the painstaking care you took, there was Shiraishi pawing at your door anxiously like a dog.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He didn’t bother answering your question. “They’re sending all the kids home.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yup. A few parents have already come by. Tsurumi wants to sit us all down and talk about what we’re gonna do.”

“We’re all going to leave, right?”

“Well we got all this shit here. The canoes. The food. The giant shogi pieces. All of that needs to get packed up probably. Do you think we’ll still get paid even if there’s no kids to watch?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“I heard something kinda messed up though.” You stepped closer to him and he continued, his voice low. “I overheard Koito saying some shit to Tsukishima about another body being found.”

“No,” you gasped.

“Yeah. They left maybe an hour ago. I doubt they’re coming back. I saw them pack—”

“Okay whatever. Whose body?”

Shiraishi shushed you. “Yūsaku’s.”

“Shut up.”

“Tsurumi found him hanging in the forest.”

“Like hanging out, right? With his brother maybe?” you asked desperately.

“Nope.”

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?”

“Relax! Maybe I heard wrong.”

You took a measured breath and distanced yourself from this loss. “It makes sense. Tsurumi was asking me about Yūsaku this morning. He wanted to know if Yūsaku was sad or, I don’t know, depressed I guess.”

“Did he seem—”

“No, but not all suicidal people act like outwardly suicidal.”

“So you think he killed himself?”

“Fuck no,” you sneered. “I bet Tsurumi did. That’s why he was asking me about him. He wanted to come up with an alibi, or a reason for Yūsaku to have done something like that.”

Shiraishi looked a little nervous. “Whoa, whoa. Let’s not jump the gun.”

You pushed him away from the door and dropped your stuff off. On the walk to the mess hall you watched as kids crawled into massive minivans and sleek electric cars. They were a resilient bunch. You admired their ability to withstand the trauma murder reaped. It sucked to see them go, but this camp was no place for their kind.

You felt oddly numb in the wake of Yūsaku’s apparent demise, especially as you sat amongst the camp’s dwindling numbers. It was just you, Shiraishi, Sugimoto, Ogata, and that freak Tsurumi. You all sat in a circle around an ashen fire pit, sipping coffee. It was bitter, the acidic taste boring holes through your tongue.

“It pains me to say this,” Tsurumi began.

“We all know about Yūsaku,” Shiraishi yawned.

His lack of tact made you want to crawl into your mug and drown.

“Oh, I wasn’t going to start off with that but…” He sighed. “As you all apparently know Yūsaku is no longer with us.”

“Did he go home?” Ogata asked.

“Shut up,” Sugimoto hissed.

Tsurumi ignored the chatter and continued. You struggled to focus. Your mind drifted off into fantasies of catching the camp director in the act and getting the hero treatment for saving the day. They were fun scenarios to entertain, but deep down you didn’t crave glory or even recognition. You just wanted to be right.

To no one’s surprise Tsurumi managed to convince everyone to stay one more night in order to return the camp to its previous barren state. It was depressing to snuff out the last remnants of the camp’s life, but necessary so Tsurumi could get back his security deposit. It was impressive to see how impermanent everything was. What took a week to create was dismantled within a day, a notion that haunted you to no end. You hated to think everything was so transient. It beckoned you to hold on tighter to your memories, to the bonds you fostered. If they were going to be ripped away, they would be marred with ghostly reminders of your feral grip.

Throughout the day you orbited around Ogata, searching for tasks that required you to be near him. Despite your attempts to be discreet, anyone with a brain could see your passive clinginess. You couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to ask if he was okay, but you didn’t want to risk an awkward conversation. When you finally built up the confidence to speak to him he was swept away by a bored sheriff wearing mirrored sunglasses.

“Wonder what they’re talking about,” Shiraishi said, startling you.

“Yūsaku obviously,” you scoffed as you swept the porch of a cabin. “Whatever. It’s not like I care.”

He laughed loud enough to grab the attention of the sheriff. Ogata was undisturbed.

“I feel bad for him.”

“Yeah?”

Shiraishi frowned. “Yeah, like his brother’s dead. He’s a total weirdo with no friends. And he’s short.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re shorter than him.”

“I am, but I’m sexy and have friends.”

Ogata was sexy, but you opted to keep that to yourself.

“Okay, and?” you said bristling with annoyance. “Go bother someone else.”

“I actually had a reason for bugging you. Sugimoto wants to make s’mores tonight because we have a bunch of marshmallows. I was thinking we could turn it into a mini party.”

“A final hurrah.”

“Exactly!” he said as he walked away.

S’mores and cold beer sounded nice, but not nearly as nice as another night with Ogata. You watched as he stared lazily at the sheriff, his posture loose and mildly defiant. He wasn’t naive enough to believe Yūsaku hung himself. He must have caught onto how strange Tsurumi was. There was no way he hadn’t. He was perceptive. You couldn’t help but feel as though you were kindred spirits.

When the sheriff finally left you decided to approach him.

“Hey,” you said gently. “I just wanted to, you know…uh. I’m really sorry about your brother.”

“Why? Did you make him kill himself?” he said, his gaze friendly yet cold.

You laughed and shifted uncomfortably.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay. Is there anything I can do?”

“Hmm. I don’t know.” He closed the distance you kept. “How far are you willing to go to comfort me?”

“A normal amount. If you need to talk or anything, I don’t mind listening.”

“Would you mind choking on my cock again? I found that to be very soothing.”

Ogata’s words were grotesque rather than alluring. You couldn’t help but feel like he was just trying to scare you off. His vulgarity lacked any sort of intensity. The threat was hollow. You swallowed hard and tried to look less timid.

“Don’t be an asshole. If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

He looked thoroughly amused. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You patted his shoulder with a platonic, heavy hand and headed off in a random direction. You were too frazzled to think that far ahead, but you walked into the woods with faux confidence.

All filthy memories fade out

You sighed in relief as the sun sunk into the horizon. Making s’mores and getting drunk by a fire sounded like the only suitable end for such a horrific venture. Shiraishi and Sugimoto met you by your cabin and aided you in crafting a fire pit.

“It’s so fucked up we never made these with the kids,” Sugimoto sighed, puncturing three marshmallows with a two-pronged skewer specially made for the act.

You sipped your beer. “We failed them.”

Shiraishi nodded. “We may be the dream team, but we weren’t perfect.”

“The what?!” Sugimoto struggled not to laugh as he crafted a picturesque s’more.

“Wh—who? Who’s the dream team?” you asked.

“Us! Me, you, and Sugimoto… obviously.”

“I had no idea.”

“I never said it out loud until now,” Shiraishi said solemnly.

It was hard to deny. The chaos that was camp proved to be a great conduit for bonding despite the horrors. You never would have made it through without Shiraishi’s humor and Sugimoto’s kindness.

“Dream team, huh?” Sugimoto said with a smile blooming across his face.

You punched Shiraishi in the arm. “Cute. I like it.”

Shiraishi blushed and shifted his gaze to the case of beer.

“How does the dream team feel about shotgunning some beers?”

Shotgunning some beers turned into shotgunning several. Stabbing the cans and chugging like your life depended on it was addicting. By the end of it you were all in a hazy trance. You collapsed down into your chair with too much vigor, sending yourself backwards into the dirt. You cackled like a witch.

“Holy shit! Are you okay?” Sugimoto asked. He was unable to hide his amused smile.

He held out his hand and hoisted you up. Shiraishi watched on, tears in his eyes, and stabbed another beer with his pocket knife. Beer spurted out of the hole and it sprayed all over. A dramatic “noooooooooo!" erupted from him as he tried in vain to suckle the rest of the beer out of the can. Sugimoto could barely hold himself together and lost his balance, sending you back into the unforgiving dirt and landing directly on you. His body was so heavy you thought you were going to suffocate. Luckily he rolled off of you within a second, wheezing with laughter.

The comedy of errors was too much. Not a single one of you went unscathed.

“I’m so sorry,” Sugimoto choked out.

You stood up and brushed the dust off of your body. “It’s okay. I’m alive. I made it. I survived.”

“You know,” Sugimoto said, still sitting in the dirt. “I’m really gonna miss you guys.”

“We’ll have to meet up again before summer ends.”

Shiraishi wiped the beer from his lips. “That’s assuming we live.”

“Dude! Not funny.” Sugimoto threw an empty can at Shiraishi. It missed.

“I’ll probably die next,” you replied thoughtfully. “Tsurumi’s gonna catch on and have to silence me.”

“Stop!”

Shiraishi corrected you. “No, no. It’ll be me.”

“Yeah, you know what. It’ll be Shiraishi, and then you. And then me.”

Shiraishi pouted. “What makes you so sure you’ll live the longest?”

“I’m immortal, dumb ass.”

“If you’re immortal, why not protect us?” you suggested.

“Yeah!”

“I’ll obviously do that! That goes without saying!”

You looked at him, doe-eyed. “Promise?”

He stood up, his balance shakier than ever. It didn’t inspire much confidence in his ability to protect you, but you chose to believe in his conviction.

“As long as I am here, neither of you will die. I… I love you guys s—so much.”

“Don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll cry. And I hate crying in the woods.”

You heard rustling in the distance. Sugimoto and Shiraishi didn’t seem to notice so you chalked it up to your intoxication. You focused your attention on the delightful little bars of artisan chocolate Yūsaku bought for the kids. Your stomach had been growling, begging for something other than beer.

“Gimme the stick thingy,” you barked at Sugimoto.

“Is that any way to ask me for something?”

“You’re talking like a caveman.”

You groaned. “Please give me a, uh,” you gestured towards the skewer resting at Sugimoto’s feet, “that item. Please, good sir.”

Shiraishi applauded your efforts like a real friend and spoke words of affirmation as you struggled to make a s’more. Neither of them stepped in to help you. They appeared to find your tribulation much too entertaining, and you were much too drunk to ask for assistance. However you managed to make four. The sloppiness didn’t detract from the flavor which was all that mattered.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Shiraishi said. “I don’t know about you guys but I’m tired.”

Sugimoto stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “Yeah, I have a long drive tomorrow. I’m not trying to fall asleep at the wheel.”

It was almost painful to part ways. A little sliver of you was afraid to enter your cabin on your own. You knew there was no reason to be scared. It wasn’t as if Tsurumi was hiding inside, waiting for the perfect opportunity to stab you. There was no way he could have snuck past you, Shiraishi, and Sugimoto. One of you would have seen him, or at the very least heard him.

Your heart began to pound. You had heard something lurking about in the woods. It very well could’ve been him. Maybe you were too drunk to be vigilant and maybe Tsurumi took advantage of that. Your hand trembled as you reached for the doorknob. Your fear was heavy and looming. It was like you were slowly being crushed. Every inhale felt like it was catching in your throat. You slowly twisted the knob and pressed your weight up against the door.

“Hello?” you asked as if an assailant would actually respond.

You flipped the switch and your room was filled with soft, incandescent light. There was no one in sight, not a soul. The relief you felt was almost overwhelming. Your terror was replaced by a pleasant drowsiness. Sleeping through the night with no interruptions wouldn’t be a pipe dream.

And it seemed to be going along quite well…

Until you had to pee of course. The urge hit you like a truck. You sprung up out of bed and ran all the way to the bathroom, hoping you’d make it in time. You regretted drinking so much. If it hadn’t been for the beer you might have gotten an uninterrupted six hours.

Luckily you made it to the bathroom in time, but on your walk back you became keenly aware of the fact you were still quite drunk.

“Ughhhhhhhhhhh,” you moaned as you trudged back.

You passed Tsurumi’s cabin and it triggered a deep desire to indulge in some snooping. Moonlighting as a drunk detective seemed like an incredible idea.

There were no lights on in his cabin, which wasn’t odd considering it was the middle of the night. But everything seemed vaguely ominous given your state of mind and your desire to prove he was the murderer. You peeked in his window and saw him sleeping. He was face down, body spread out like a starfish.

“What a freak.”

“You’re the one watching him sleep.”

You spun around and saw Ogata. You opened your mouth to scream but he covered it. His hand was damp and smelled like soap. He looked unkempt, and seemed a little frazzled.

“I can explain,” you whispered.

“Are you drunk?”

“Maybe. Listen!”

He shushed you and grabbed you by the wrist. He dragged you away from Tsurumi’s window.

“Can I talk now?” You didn’t wait for an answer. “I think Tsurumi is killing everyone.”

He looked thoroughly amused. “What makes you so sure—”

“He’s a total fucking weirdo, Ogata! He, you know, like… Okay, I don’t have solid proof. But he did ask me about your brother. He was like ‘Ohhh, do you think Yūsaku was suicidal? Did he seem like a little sad boy with little sad boy problems?’ And I was like, ‘No.’ And he was like all… whatever.” You hiccuped. “Why would he ask me that if he wasn’t trying to find a way to cover up his crime?”

“You did work with Yūsaku. I don’t think it’s weird that Tsurumi would ask you about him. If I were him, you would be one of the first people I’d talk to.”

“Ogataaaaaaaaaa,” you whined. “Don’t be a shit.”

“All I’m saying is the two of you seemed close.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“I think he had a crush on you,” he teased.

“He didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t blame him for having one.”

You gave up on protesting. It wasn’t like he was actually listening to you. You turned your gaze towards the ground. It was then you noticed what looked like rusty stains on his shoes.

“You really shouldn’t wear white shoes.”

He looked confused.

“Yours are always s—so dirty.”

He stared down at his shoes and smiled. “I like them this way.”

You shrugged. “Anyway. I think Tsurumi poisoned Tanigaki with mushrooms.”

“What about Inkarmat? Usami? Vasi—”

“When did they find Usami and Vasily?!”

He paused. “They didn’t. I thought maybe you had an explanation for them going missing.”

“Oh. No. I haven’t really thought about them. Is that fucked up?”

“A little, but I like it when you’re fucked up.”

He leaned in and slipped his tongue into your mouth. You tried to let yourself fall into the moment, to let yourself be enraptured by him once more. But you felt uneasy. A part of you was screaming at you to stop. Your entire body tensed up and you pushed him away.

“Not here,” you sighed.

“Why not?” he said, rubbing the small of your back.

“What if someone sees?”

“There’s no one to see us.”

With your luck Shiraishi and Sugimoto would see you wrapped up in Ogata’s arms and never let you live it down. A greater horror would be Tsurumi catching you. He would have no issue disposing you.

Ogata didn’t share this concern. He simply shoved his fingers down your shorts and rubbed your clit through your underwear.

“You don’t need to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid. I don’t want to get caught.”

“Hmm,” he purred as he nuzzled his face in your neck. “Getting caught could be fun. We could finally reveal our true nature.”

His wording puzzled you.

“Wait, what true nature? That we’re fucking?” you asked.

“Don’t play dumb.”

He let his fingers graze your cunt. His touch was hypnotic. You felt like you were melting in his arms. The world around you faded away, your concerns were nonexistent. Everything was a distraction queued for destruction. He kissed your neck, his stubble tickling you. You felt his teeth graze your skin. A smile crept across your face as he bit into it. Your knees buckled as he bit down a little harder. Your head was spinning.

“I need to taste you,” he said against your neck, pulling down your clothes.

The night air was brisk against the skin of your ass. He kissed the nape of your neck as he hands traveled down your waist, stopping at the dip of your hips. He got on his knees and stared up at you, eyes dark with ardor, before giving your clit a languid lick.

He lapped at your cunt like a starved animal. It was like he was trying to consume you. You felt so desired, so adored. His tongue was dizzying. You nearly lost your balance as he buried his face in between your thighs. He grunted and gripped your ass to steady you.

You gasped as he dug his fingers deeper into your skin. His sweetness was always tinged with a little cruelty. You felt like you were falling in love with him whenever he was rough with you. Your pleasure seemed endless. It was something to get lost in. He shielded you from the tragedy that had overtaken your life.

You ran your fingers through his hair. “You’re so good at this.”

“I know,” he groaned.

His haughtiness was unfortunately warranted. He could work wonders with his mouth. He rolled his tongue against your throbbing clit. Your knees trembled as your orgasm began to bloom. You tried to speak but all you could do was whimper his name. You felt like you were floating away.

Moaning soon became the only thing you were capable of doing. Your body was limp and swollen with lust. The only reason you were upright was because of Ogata’s steadying grip.

“Are you really going to come already?” he teased.

“Yes!” you choked out.

He held your clit between his lips and sucked. Your head rolled back and you murmured a string of obscenities. Euphoria wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the heights you were ascending to. You drenched his face with your arousal as your orgasm echoed through you.

“Sor—”

Your demure apology was interrupted by a pained moan coming from the distance. You crashed back down to earth.

“Did you hear that?” you asked.

Ogata didn’t respond. He simply stood up and wiped his chin.

“Let me walk you back to your cabin.”

“Uh, yeah sure. But did you hear that? It sounded like a person.”

“I didn’t hear anything. Your paranoia is getting the best of you.” He grabbed you by the hand. “Come on.”

He didn’t say a single word on the walk back. He didn’t even look at you. You felt like a ghost.

“Thanks… for escorting me.”

“It’s no problem,” he said with a smile.

You were convinced you would never fully understand him, that he would always keep you on your toes. And maybe that was the appeal. It was a danger you didn’t mind dancing with, something low stakes in comparison to people getting fucking murdered.

With my eyes closed I offered myself to the sun

It was your final day and you jumped at the opportunity to interrogate Tsurumi. It didn’t matter if you were the only one that thought he was the cause of all the camp’s calamity. The lack of faith from your friends didn’t deter you in the least. You knew you were right and soon everyone else would know as well.

“What the?”

You saw a heap in the distance, something keeled over just beyond the trees. The sun sliced through them, drowning whatever it was in unforgiving light. You heard the faint buzzing of flies and your stomach dropped. The familiar sensation of spit pooling in your mouth triggered a lethal anxiety within you.

Every step you took made you more and more nauseous. A horrid smell swarmed your nostrils. You couldn’t help but gag.

“No,” you said quietly, looking down at the heap.

It was Sugimoto, face down. His arms were stretched in front of him, fingers caked with dirt.

“Saichi, get up.” You squatted beside him. A prayer circle of jet black ants surrounded his body. “Get up. You’re supposed to keep me and Shiraishi safe, remember?”

There was no hope and yet you tried to hold onto it. You wanted to roll him over, thinking maybe you could rouse him. You saw it in movies all the time, the classic fake-out death trope. You’d slap him around, maybe yell and cry a bit, and his eyes would flutter open. He would apologize for worrying you and you’d tease him for how rank he smelled.

“Oh fuck!” you screamed as you rolled him onto his back.

His chin was coated with dried blood. His stomach had been cut open, entrails butchered and hanging out. You looked just beyond his body and saw a trail of blood and intestines. You started to sob. Sugimoto didn’t deserve to suffer such a heinous demise. Why couldn’t Tsurumi have just killed him outright? Why did he have to exercise his will with such cruelty? You hated him and his flagrant barbarity. Your rage washed over you. The desire to throw yourself over his mauled body and wail was extinguished.

“I’m so sorry,” you cooed, stroking his hair. “Tsurumi’s not getting away with this.”

In order to properly avenge Sugimoto you needed Shiraishi, but you didn’t even know if Shiraishi was alive. You grabbed Sugimoto’s pocket knife and bolted to Shiraishi’s cabin. You kicked the door in and all you saw was an unmade bed, empty bags of marshmallows, and all of his belongings scattered around an empty duffle bag.

You kept running out of sheer desperation, searching Shiraishi’s usual haunts to no avail. He must have been killed too, another counselor disappeared by that freak Tsurumi.

Your bravado began to melt away. The more you thought about it the more you realized you likely couldn’t hold your own against Tsurumi. You were nothing without the dream team.

There was always Ogata, but if Sugimoto was slain by Tsurumi with such ease then Ogata didn’t stand a chance. You were enshrouded in a sinking loneliness. It made every step an ordeal but you continued your march to Tsurumi’s cabin.

Your head was swimming by the time you got there. You didn’t even notice the door was already open. As you stepped inside you heard a series of loud, wet thwacks.

“Wh—what are you doing?”

Ogata stood over Tsurumi’s twitching body, bashing in his skull with the butt of his own shotgun. Pale foam seeped from his parted lips. You watched in horror as his face gradually became unrecognizable carnage with each of Ogata’s blows.

“Why?” you squeaked.

“What do you mean why? I did this for you.”

“This is not what I wanted.”

“Yes it is. You thought he was killing all your friends and it bothered you enough that you whined to me about it.”

“I didn’t tell you those things because I wanted you to kill him! Fuck! Now the cops are going to think you killed everyone!”

He cocked his head to the side and stared at you. You froze in place like a deer in front of a speeding truck. He looked gutted.

“I did kill everyone.”

You bursted into laughter. “No you fucking didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

“Stop it! No you didn’t!”

He stepped over Tsurumi’s corpse, gun still in his hand. You backed out the door, trying to keep distance.

“Yes I did,” he said. In the sunlight you saw how much of Tsurumi’s blood ended up on him. He was dappled with crimson splotches. “That’s why you told me about Tsurumi. You wanted him gone and you knew I’d take care of it.”

Your mouth was agape. You refused to believe him.

“You—you’re not serious. Please tell me you’re not serious. Please.”

“I’m se—”

“No! Shut up! You didn’t do it. You didn’t do any of it. You… You couldn’t. Right? Right?!”

His disappointment was palpable.

“Why are you acting like this? You knew what you were doing when you talked to me about him.”

“I never said I wanted you to kill him! I never fucking said that!”

“Stop screaming. I’m right here.”

Your eyes were becoming glassy. Tears were imminent.

“I never said that,” you said quietly.

“You didn’t have to. I knew what you wanted. We see things the same way. You hated all of them as much as I did.”

“What? I didn’t hate any of them.”

“Oh so you liked Usami?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I wanted him dead.”

He sighed heavily. “You don’t need to pretend anymore. They’re all gone.”

“Pretend? I’m not pretending.”

“Drop the act. I didn’t mind it before, but now there’s no reason for you to hide yourself from me.”

Everything was spinning around you. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. It was absurd for him to think you harbored as much hatred as he did. Sure, some of your fellow counselors got on your nerves, but being annoying wasn’t a death sentence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not hiding anything.”

He tried to pat down his unruly lock of hair. “So you’re saying I’m wrong? You’re nothing like me?”

“Yes! I could never dream of being as monstrous as you! How fucked up do you have to be to decide you can just kill people for, I don’t know, being annoying or stupid or whatever?”

“It’s not like I intended on killing everyone. I just wanted Yūsaku gone, but then I caught Tanigaki and Inkarmat 69ing by the lake and it spiraled from there.”

“Th—that’s why you killed them?”

“It was disgusting, okay.”

“Was it more disgusting than what we did?”

He glared at you. “What we did wasn’t disgusting. Tanigaki and Inkarmat didn’t actually care about each other.”

“You don’t know that.”

“They barely knew each other. You can’t like someone that much after, what, a week?”

“Does that mean we don’t like each other?”

“No!” He took a measured breath and regained composure. “It’s different with us. You know me. You understand me.”

“I don’t understand you at all.”

“But you were… so nice to me.”

Neither of you spoke. The only sound was the wind cutting through the trees. You thought back to old conversations you had with him and tried to see where your ignorance blinded you. There were plenty of times you should have known it was Ogata, but you were so caught up in blaming Tsurumi for everything.

It was hard to reconcile the man you had your heart set on was a cold blooded killer. You wanted your feelings to subside, but they remained despite his horrendous crimes. Part of you needed to fix him, to save him from himself. Maybe if you had caught on sooner you could have stopped him. There were so many what-ifs running through your mind you almost forgot where you were.

“Did it not mean anything to you?” he asked.

“What?”

“Being nice to me. Was it an obligation?”

“No. I think… most people deserve kindness.”

“Even someone like me?”

You tried to ignore the shotgun in his hand. “Yes… especially you, Hyakunosuke.”

“After everything I’ve done?”

“Ye—yes.”

“Liar.”

He aimed the gun under his chin and pulled the trigger. You tried to catch him in your arms, but you weren’t strong enough to carry that weight. You fell to your knees and cradled him. His face was nothing but an open wound. You wept as his blood seeped into your clothes.

“You were never an obligation.”

You wiped away your tears and got his blood in your eye. It burned, but it was nothing compared to the sinking feeling in your heart.

“Holy shit!!”

Shiraishi came barrelling out of the woods. His lip was busted and he had dried blood under his nose.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?”

Shiraishi kneeled in front of you. You looked down and noticed his hand was resting in what used to be Ogata’s face.

“Shiraishi, your hand.”

He fell backwards and kicked himself away from Ogata’s corpse. He wiped his hand in the dirt.

“He, uh, didn’t hurt me. I’m fine… I thought you were dead.”

“Nah. I just let him beat the shit out of me and pretended to be dead. I didn’t think he’d fall for it. Have you seen Sugimoto?”

“He… he didn’t make it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Shiraishi helped move Ogata off of you. He looked horrified once he saw how much of Ogata’s blood had ended up on you. The coppery scent was impossible to ignore.

You were thankful Shiraishi was still alive. He took charge for a change, deciding your best course of action was to go to the mess hall and contact the authorities. It wasn’t until you got there that he realized his phone was dead. You both sat in silence as it charged.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked after checking his battery life.

You nodded.

“Did you like Ogata?”

You didn’t want to admit it. You couldn’t imagine a world where Shiraishi would understand the complexity of your feelings. He never liked Ogata in the first place.

You tried to slaughter the sentimental romantic inside you. You thought about how mean Ogata could be, the awful things he’d say to you. You thought about Sugimoto and how he tried to drag himself to your cabin despite being gutted like a fish.

“No,” you scoffed.

Ogata was right. You were a liar.

#ogata hyakunosuke x reader #ogata x reader #golden kamuy x reader #golden kamuy smut #ogata smut #reader insert #x reader #.fics #.gk #.ogata

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niteshade925 · 5 months ago

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April 12, Xi'an, China, Qinglong Temple/青龙寺 (Part 3 - History):

A model of Qinglong Temple in Tang dynasty (618 - 907 AD):

There must have been something like thirty engravings of famous poems about the temple lining the walls of the corridors. Below are three examples of these engravings, from these poems one can get a feel for how Qinglong Temple used to look like. A note on the translations: they are rather unpolished as I just wanted to get the meaning across.

《題青龍寺詩》 [唐] 朱慶餘寺好因崗勢，登臨值夕陽。青山當佛閣，紅葉滿僧廊。竹色連平地，蟲聲在上方。最憐東面靜，為近楚城墻。

Translation (by me):

"In Commemoration of Qinglong Temple" By Zhu Qingyu (Tang dynasty) The beauty of this temple comes from the mountains, By the time I summited it was already dusk. Verdant peaks behind temple buildings, Scarlet leaves filling the corridors. Bamboo groves connecting flat areas, Chirping of insects above it all. Only the east side remains still, Since it's close to the city walls.

《清明日青龍寺上方賦得多字》 [唐] 皇甫冉上方偏可適，季月況堪過。遠近水聲至，東西山色多。夕陽留徑草，新葉變庭柯。已度清明節，春秋如客何。

Translation (by me):

"Qingming Festival Above Qinglong Temple" By Huangfu Ran (Tang dynasty) It's comfortable up in the mountains, Watching the season pass by. Sounds of flowing water from near and far, Views of mountains from east and west. Setting sun upon the grassy path, Growing leaves cover the courtyard trees. Qingming Festival has come and gone, Just like the seasons and the temple visitors.

《青龍寺早夏》 [唐] 白居易塵埃經小雨，地高倚長坡。日西寺門外，景氣含清和。閑有老僧立，靜無凡客過。殘莺意思盡，新葉陰涼多。春去來幾日，夏雲忽嵯峨。朝朝感時節，年鬓闇蹉跎。胡爲戀朝市，不去歸煙蘿。青山寸步地，自問心如何。

Translation (by me):

"Early Summer at Qinglong Temple" By Bai Juyi (Tang dynasty) Light shower settled the dust, Temple grounds blending with the hills. Setting sun outside temple gates, The scene filled with an air of serenity. An old monk stands in idleness, There are no worldly passersby in the stillness. Remaining birds having sung their melodies, New leaves providing ample amounts of shade. End of spring was just days ago, Summer clouds are already towering above. Every day we feel the passing of seasons, Our hair graying in the meantime. Why obsess over bustling cities, When we can return to the lush countryside? These verdant mountains are but a corner of the world, Here I stand and reflect upon the state of my heart.

Huiguo and Kukai

In the first part I mentioned that Qinglong Temple was where Kukai/空海 studied Vajrayana Buddhism (the Chinese Esoteric tradition was also called "Tangmi"/唐密, since it was very popular in Tang dynasty) under Huiguo/惠果. Huiguo was a student of the famous Vajrayana Buddhist master and translator Amoghavajra (Chinese name Bukong/不空). Huiguo eventually became a master himself in the Chinese Esoteric tradition, and was an Acharya (Sanskrit term meaning teacher; translated phonetically as asheli/阿阇黎 in Chinese) who had many students from different places, including from surrounding countries. Kukai was one of his last notable students before he passed away. Kukai returned to Japan in 806 AD and founded the Shingon school of Buddhism/真言宗 (also sometimes called Eastern Esotericism/東密).

Kukai was also a calligrapher and a poet, below are two examples of his works (first is an ink rubbing of his calligraphy work titled "Buddha", second is his calligraphy work named Huushincho/風信帖; both were written in Chinese):

Closeup of Huushincho (from Wikipedia). The original is at Touji Temple in Kyoto, Japan.

Shōryō shu/Xinglingji/性靈集, a collection of kanshi by Kukai. Kanshi/漢詩 is a Japanese word for Chinese poetry. These books here are a gift from Japan.

Bunkyō hifu ron/Wenjingmifulun/文鏡秘府論 by Kukai which discusses Chinese poetry. These books are a gift from Japan.

There are also other gifts from Japan. Left is the top of a khakkhara staff (In Chinese and Japanese: xizhang/锡杖/錫杖, shakujō/錫杖). Right is a Vajra (in Chinese and Japanese: jingangchu/金刚杵/金剛杵, kongosho/金剛杵), this is a Vajrayana ritual object. This particular Vajra is commemorative and bears the names of Huiguo and Kukai:

And that's all for Qinglong Temple. Next up is another famous temple in Xi'an, Daci'en Temple/大慈恩寺.

#2024 china #xi'an #china #qinglong temple #buddhist temple #history #chinese history #vajrayana buddhism #kukai #huiguo #buddhism #poetry #chinese poetry #my translations

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tobifuyu · 11 months ago

Text

Snowflakes In My Stomach When We’re Kissin’

RAN HAITANI x f!reader

cw: nsfw, mdni, smut, fwb to lovers, oral (male reciving), tiny bit of angsty themes with happy ending, sappy fic, ran being a simp as always to feed my “he’s a self-centered bitch until he finds the one” agenda.

wc: 3.2k

a/n: surprise… i’m back with a christmas present! this is the first fic in a three pieces installment, which can all be read as standalone but come from the same universe and evolve in the span of three different christmases. in case you didn’t know, in japan christmas is a holiday in which people spend time with their partners because they reserve new year’s for family (not only i’ve seen it in a whole lot of shoujo anime but i’ve asked my japanese coworkers to confirm eheh). it’s also customary to eat cake! ;)

“Though you said you just wanted to get a coffee.”

The only thing peeking from the red scarf is the tip of his nose, flushed with the same color of the fabric that’s wrapped around his neck. You imagine his lips curved in a smirk under it.

When he came to pick you up earlier this morning, you thought he made a bold choice pairing the red garment with the unusual color of his hair. Up until then, you always believed red and purple would clash.

But Ran made it work, somehow. Like most things in his life, he did it with a confidence that made you question your world and how you view it even if for just a second.

“Well, that we did,” He shakes his hand, his long fingers easily supporting the weight of the full cup. You can see the steam rise from it and wonder if he’s not drinking it because he’s scared to burn his tongue or because he’s not ready to go home yet.

The two of you are currently walking around Shiba Park, not too far from Roppongi Hills. The peak of Tokyo Tower is hidden in plain sight behind the trees, stripped naked by the season, and adorned by strings of fairy lights.

In daylight they look clear, void of color, and empty, they come alive at night. Just like we both do, thinks Ran.

Ran does like winter. He believes winter poses more opportunities to forgo going out and staying in bed. He loves to gaze out of his apartment’s window and spot rain pit patting against the glass, watching the water droplets leave streaks behind as he lets himself get lulled back to sleep.

He also likes that he can layer more clothes, the more the merrier, he says, it’s easier to style it. You would agree, because he looks particularly elegant with his long black coat, left unbuttoned to glimpse at the nice sweater under it. The sight of his tightly clad body alone ignites a fire inside of you, one that is meek but insistent, and will soon start to burn you inside out.

What Ran doesn’t like it’s the cold. The wind is not fair against his pale skin, it leaves it red and stinging, much like his heart when he wakes up after a night together and doesn’t find you there. He does not like the cold, the cold of the sheets around him when you’ve left hours before.

He would like to pretend he’s clueless as to why, the same way you’re staring at him now, but he knows the reason behind it.

“Are you gonna tell me why we’re wandering around without a destination in freezing weather?

“Can’t you just live a little?”

You scoff at his words, taking another sip out of your hot chocolate to bite back an insult. He’s already testing your patience, and you have very little of it left today of all days.

“We should go eat some cake, I’d love an excuse to grab a Mont Blanc for later at that bakery by your apartment. Y’know I like it there.”

Cake. You don’t like cake, and you don’t like what eating cake with him would mean today of all days.

“Why do you have to make everything so complicated, Ran?” You sigh, head shaking in disappointment.

When you decided to start this with Ran, it was because you believed the man to be on the same wavelength as you. Ran had seemed like someone who knew what he wanted, and you had been sure that was not you.

He had promised that would stay the case. Your heart could not afford to be cared for by somebody.

When you look at him this time, you don’t notice how the wind is whipping the skin of his high cheeks red because his scarf is now covering everything but the lidded eyes staring at you.

At this rate Ran might end up hating winter: you seem to get colder with the season. He doesn’t think he would pick sleeping in over you, so if he could, he would like for summer to last all year long.

He’d like for you to cling to him even when the temperature is so high you can barely breathe in your cramped room, sweat sticking to both your skin and his, like your very first night together.

Because where the holidays bring glee to most, to you they’re a reminder of times that are long gone. A childhood spent decorating the tree and wishing for the perfect Christmas gift, now turned into a life of solitude. Your fast-paced job and lonely apartment away from home don’t leave space for the frivolity of Christmas.

“Didn’t wanna leave you alone,” he speaks so clearly of his intentions you almost feel shame, “Did ya think I would’ve left you bask in your gloominess, today? ‘M not that bad of an ass.”

You don’t think Ran owns you anything. He shouldn’t be picking up the pieces of you that other people left scattered and putting them back together as if it were a kids’ puzzle.

Ran knows you don’t really have anyone, he thinks he’s much like you, and would be just as bitter if he didn’t have his brother.

“You left Rin by himself?”

You hear his muffled laughter, “‘course not. Haruchiyo’s there. Y’know how they are.”

Yes. In love, you suppose. And you wonder if Ran thinks that is what it is. And what is it between you two?

You can feel his body warmth as he gravitates closer to you, “‘M cold,” is his excuse when his now ungloved hand catches yours. He intertwines your fingers, brushing the back of your hand with his thumb, before hiding them away in his coat pocket.

Gotta warm your cold heart up, he thinks.

“Saving you from this freezing weather,” is what he says out loud.

But you know it’s because the movement brings you closer, he pulls you so you’re now shoulder to shoulder, and you’re not strong enough to keep your head from falling on his. As if you were fresh snow in the sun, you melt in his presence.

“Let’s go get cake,” your voice is but a soft whisper, running past him like the breeze through the dying leaves, the wind finally settling down.

And that’s how he ends up in your apartment. Sounds of wet skin slapping against one another fill the void as he buries himself deep inside of you.

The sweet pastries Ran bought long forgotten over your kitchen counter, as he’d much rather taste the honeyed nectar spilling from between your thighs.

He’s grabbing at them now, the hold on your flesh sure to leave marks behind as he folds your legs so that he can loop his arms under your knees, keeping you spread open for him.

Big body caging you under his warmth with his forehead pressed against yours, and open mouths a breath away from the other, sharing sounds of pleasure without ever meeting in the middle.

It had been a tantalizing dance when you first started sleeping together. Like most people in your situation, you had both concluded that it would be best if you refrained from kissing. Deeming it too intimate.

Ran had caved after the third time you ended up in his bed, lips too needy to be kept from yours. He had let out a soft plead before you met him in the middle.

From then on you made it your mission to never kiss him outside of your bedroom activities, too scared of the power his kisses held over you. He and his annoying self had taken it as a challenge, always on the edge of his seat waiting to see who’d kiss the other first.

“Oh fuck this,” Ran groans before giving in.

You catch sight of his eyelids fluttering shut, hiding that violet color that you love so much, and your lips lock in a kiss that takes your breath as much as the hips still snapping against yours.

The coarse patch of hair on his navel repeatedly brushes against your puffed-up clit, making your hips jump up to chase the friction. The man is shamelessly shallowing your moans and caressing your tongue with his, teeth closing around your bottom lip when you go to pull away.

“Ngh, you taste like cake.”

Ran had snuck a bite of one of the pieces the moment he stepped out of the bakery, and the sweet taste on his tongue was, in your opinion, way better than the real deal.

His hand grasps your chin with firmness, the tips of his fingers squeezing your cheeks and making your blushed lips pucker up.

“So you do like cake, mh?”

“No, I don-“ Ran squeezes harder, and your mouth parts. A glob of spit falls on your tongue, one that you shallow under his scrutinizing gaze.

The moan that he lets out at that reverberates through your chest as he bends so close your bodies are now completely pressed against one another, sharing body heat.

This is what sex with Ran is, a concoction of rough touches and fucking that turn soft and slow when you least expect it. He likes to tease and surprise you, stealing the prettiest sounds from your lips and making them his. Making you his.

“Y’don’t like cake, s’okay. I know you like me,” one of his hands teasingly pinches your right nipple, respective eye closing in a wink.

You like that he makes sex fun, cracking jokes as if his cock weren’t pumping inside of you. You like it, you like him, but you can’t have him know that.

“That’s not-“ he interrupts you once again, this time with the snapping of his hips. He starts fucking you like he means it. Calculated thrusts hitting against the sweet spot only he knows how to find.

Ran is on his knees now, hands firmly planted on your raised hips, guiding you back and forth over his length.

“Fuck! Ran, fuck that feels good- so good-“

Slurred words leave your panting mouth as your hands hold onto the pillow behind your head for dear life, back arched and chest exposed to the greedy eyes that are raking over your body. From your perked-up nipples, begging to be played with, to the way your cunt is stretching around his cock.

“Don’t have enough hands for the things I wanna do to you,” Nonetheless, he repositions his right one so that it’s splayed over your navel, thumb reaching down to rub tight circles on your slicked clit.

“Fuckin’ cunt squeezing me so good,” moans spill from your mouth at his words, his voice is strained but maintains that hint of icy superiority and poise that is characteristic of Ran.

The way your hole flutters around him is maddening, Ran can feel your walls clenching against his length so perfectly. He can feel everything.

As a matter of fact, so do you. No matter how dumb he fucks you, you can’t ever miss out on the sweet feeling of his bare skin caressing your wet cunt. The squelching sounds are filling the air around you, making your cheeks heat up and your head lull to the side, trying to avoid his eyes in shame.

Half face buried in the pillow, you beg for him, “Ran, please, please. I need to cum so bad.”

His thrusts slow down, thumb stilling over your clit, and you hear him hum, pensive.

“Maybe if you looked at me, pretty, I might think about letting you.”

Gathering your remaining strength, you open your eyes to the sight of his glorious body above yours.

The wetness of his skin shines under the light of the outside street lamp, peeking in from the window, full body tattoo so enchanting, you watch it move and bend over his rising chest.

With violet eyes fixed on yours, he stands tall, unreachable.

The purple strands that fall from his gelled-back hairstyle are the only giveaway that he’s not so perfect and pristine after all, but he still looks like a god in your devoted eyes.

“Ran,” you call his name so softly he tumbles from the skies right to you.

His body bends to lay over yours, weight supported by his arms at your sides. With a snap of his hips, he breaks the longing stare you’re both sharing, mushroom tip hitting the spot that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Oh my god, that feels so-“ “I know, baby, s’okay.” One of his hands caresses over your head, before stopping at your neck and closing around your windpipe. The pressure of his touch against your feverish skin is delicious.

Your nails are now creating indents in the flesh of his arms. You want more, you need him to break you.

Ran can’t stop thrusting, pounding, burying himself inside of you to the hilt. He’s never wanted to be this close to someone before, never needed their warmth as he does yours.

He stops you before you can reach your clit with your fingers and, wanting to be the one to take you over the edge, he uses his free hand to rub over it vehemently.

“Coming, I’m coming,” are the rushed words that fall from your lips before you hit your peak. Wanton moans are gracing Ran’s ears, making his balls strain from holding back, but he wants you to bask in the glow of your orgasm before he reaches his.

“Doin’ so well fo’ me, look at this pretty pussy. Gushing all over my cock.” He looks down as he says this, watching how good he’s splitting you open, his cock coming out of you covered with the white sheen of your arousal, then plunging back in.

Your spent body is overstimulated, twitching in his hold as if trying to run away from the pleasure.

“You’re the only one, baby.” Ran lets slip, the sight of you in your most vulnerable state makes him just as weak, “S’all yours, so take it.” And he means it, you’re the only one.

Before you, life used to be in black and white. Ran had tried everything to paint it some other color, from violence to sex, but nothing ever came close to holding you in his arms.

Color is always all around him, but Ran’s devoid of it until you touch him.

You pull him down to you at the confession, arms wrapped around his neck, chests pressed against one another, hard nipples tickling the soft skin.

The pace suddenly turns slow, and you wonder if Ran does not care about coming anymore. His focus is on you, and you’re staring back at him with just as much affection.

“Let me take care of you,” it’s what you suggest once you’ve come down from your high, fingers pressing against his shoulders to have him lay back in the sheets. Short hair sprawled over the white pillow like a halo behind his troubled head.

Both of your thighs are circling his hips, too scared to have Ran pull out, and be prevailed by that sense of emptiness and cold that comes from being away from him.

Fighting a whirlpool of emotions, you feel the need to silence your mind with his lips on yours. The clashing of your noses does nothing to stop you from kissing each other passionately.

The blame should be on Ran for making you fall for him and gifting you a brand new reason to celebrate Christmas, but you should’ve known better when he walked into your life with that snarky smirk that makes you sigh just thinking about it. You bite his lip in retaliation.

The feeling of Ran’s hands traveling over your skin and sinking with his strong grip on the flesh of your hips is what makes you separate your two halves, pussy clenching around the length that has been filling you up so perfectly. The need to make him feel just as good swells up on the inside.

“Fuck, please,” A choked whisper, falling from the pearlescent of his lips, wet with your love, blood pouring out of the bitten skin.

Purple and red do look good together, you think.

Your hands are warm, trailing up his stomach like the ink on his skin. He feels as if you’re moving too fast, scared he might blink and lose the moment, and at the same time too slow for his liking. He’s begging and he doesn’t know what he’s begging for. But you do.

Ran’s hands tighten around the bedsheets. He wants to touch everywhere you’ve been, wants to get stained in you. Like fresh paint that sticks on skin, he’s now colored in your shades.

Wet kisses are being left on the top of his shaft. Ran’s right hand finds your hair, waving his fingers between the loose strands to uncover the sight of your pretty face.

Lidded eyes are watching you glide your tongue down his hardness, caressing the bluish veins running across its sides, tasting yourself on it.

When your lips wrap around his sensitive tip you have to hold down his hips with both hands.

The peace you set is slow, taking him in your mouth inch by inch. His girth stretches your lips and he thumbs the lower one as you look up at him with tears forming at your lashline.

“Mouth feels like fucking heaven, angel.”

Ran can barely contain himself, dangling from the edge, his balls heavy with his release.

When your nose is buried in the hair at the base of his cock, you know you’ve successfully taken him whole. A huge accomplishment on your part, considering how blessed he is.

With your throat clenching around him, it doesn’t take long to feel him twitch in your mouth.

“Yeah, pretty girl, just like that. Make me cum, fuck!”

Bobbing your head at his request, you’re hasty in sucking your checks around his length, letting him come on the back of your tongue with languid moans that contain your name.

No need for him to ask, you’re one step ahead by swallowing his semen, making a show of it before leaving a wet kiss on his tip, to collect the white drop that was spilling over.

“Better than any cake.”

Booming laughter fills the space around you as you scoot closer to his tired body, laying on his naked frame and stealing all his warmth.

“I do like you.”

“I know,” Ran looks down at you, left check cutely smushed against his pecs, “Let’s spend New Year’s together.”

The faint movement of your hair brushing his skin tells him you’re agreeing, “And what about… next year?”

“Let’s spend them all together.”

You’re warm in his hold, and he figures the fairy lights might’ve come on in the park.

Ran thinks back to the rest of the untouched cake on your kitchen counter and is happy enough that the two of you have exchanged Christmas gifts in your own special way.

After all, he took away the cold, and you’ve brightened up his life.

That’s more of what you could’ve wished for.

#ran haitani #ran haitani imagines #ran haitani smut #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani x y/n #ran haitani x you #ran imagines #ran smut #ran x oc #ran x reader

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sunlightmurdock · 3 months ago

Text

AETERNA | Four

Three | Masterlist

chapter synopsis: rooster gets a glimpse of what he’s been waiting for.

warnings: bradley bradshaw x reader x jake seresin. supernatural circus au. smoking; the fic takes place in the 70s and so 70s era things will happen; this fic has mature themes and is intended for adults, minors pls dni. spooky stuff. word count: 8.8k

There is a river on the O’Malley land that comes from way up in the mountains, spilling down into the valley that Atwood was built upon. Across some pastures and some trees, there’s a quiet spot where nobody ever comes — not even the seasoned pros who got their fishing licenses direct from Mr. O’Malley himself.

In the early mornings, Rooster gets antsy. He tosses and turns in the swelter of his camper for a while, counting the rays of gold that pass across the weathered ceiling. He can hear everyone else tossing and turning too.

He hears Paulie and the guys still up talking from the night before. Waylon snoring wildly from a few rows away. Erin and Tomas feeling each other up in their tents.

It has become his common routine to now give up sleeping once the morning sun crests the roof of the farmhouse up on the hill. On those mornings, he goes walking.

He came across the spot where the horses are buried. Where the blackberries grow and brambles have started to consume an old chicken coop. Then, he came across the spot by the river.

As he plucks at the strings of his beat-up, old guitar on Monday at noon and tries to pretend that he’s all alone, Rooster regrets ever telling his chosen few about this place.

It had been fun, at first, when the eight of them had taken the walk out there and spent a couple of hours cooling off. But now, he’s stuck with the sound of Jake’s voice while the others play in the water in front of him. He should be grateful that the rest of camp hadn’t bothered to invite themselves, too.

The next place he finds, he won’t be as quick to share.

Jake basks in the sun, his skin shining gold. He’s laying in his boxer shorts on the smooth rocks that verge the O’Malley’s access to the river, his arms crossed under his face and his eyes closed.

Rooster sits at the edge of the rocky riverbank with sunburnt shoulders and a guitar in his hands, strumming absently at something old. He’s watching his friends swim; Natasha sits on Bob’s shoulders and Callie sits on Rueben’s as they chicken fight in the clear, moving water around them.

The conversation between himself and Jake fell stagnant a few moments ago. His brown eyes track the blue dragonfly as it plays around the reeds that stand tall, out of the water, thinking of what Jake had last said. He can’t let it go.

There isn’t a lot left for them to argue about, these days. Something shiny and new comes along and the habit strikes back up.

“If she’s got any sense, she’ll stay away.” Rooster sounds much older than he is sometimes, and that’s why all those lonely older ladies love him so much. Jake doesn’t bother to lift his head, but Rooster can hear his smile through his words.

“She’s got a sense of adventure, old man,” Rooster is only a year and a half older, technically. Jake teases him anyway. Rooster plucks at the strings like it doesn’t bother him. “And the sweetest tits. She’ll be seein’ me again.”

Rooster misplucks.

Jake grins against his arm, a beaming smile from under his sunglasses, content with the idea that he has gotten under Rooster’s skin.

The sun scorches above them, one of the first days in early May where the sun dares to be this hot. There’s still a light breeze, one that makes the heat just about bearable outdoors, but one that makes the river a straight godsend.

Callie shrieks as she topples off of Rueben’s shoulders and crashes into the cool water, sending droplets of water flying over Rooster’s thighs.

It’s a very unassuming scene, these town newcomers playing at such normality, right as the Redbrook River fishing season picks up. It’s far from secluded, just not frequently stumbled upon this far out.

Jake lays undisturbed, grinning against his arm, as Rooster tries not to picture your tits — more specifically, Jake’s hands on them. It’s bad enough he had to listen to it all. It’s a conflicting thing to have enjoyed so much about what he was hearing, and to have known it was all for Jake’s benefit.

“Keep dreamin’, bud,” Rooster answers right back. Their group of friends continue to splash in the water, long past the days of being fazed by Jake and Rooster’s competitive streak. “She thinks you’re a freak.”

Jake’s lips quirk and he twists his hips and rolls onto his back, draping an arm over his eyes. The sun covers his chest gladly, bathing him in mid-morning light. “I can work with freak. She thinks you’re a stick in the mud with an attitude problem.”

Maybe I am, Rooster acknowledges bitterly.

“If she likes you so much, why’s she chasing me?” Rooster counters.

Jake takes his arm away from his eyes and props his elbows against the flat, warm surface of the rock under him. As he lifts his sunglasses, the light catches on the green of his eyes, twinkling daringly as he looks across at Rooster. His grin stretches wide across his lips, dimpling at just one cheek — practically the only thing not symmetrical about his face.

Rooster stops plucking at the guitar. He fucking hates when Jake smiles at him like that. Smug and daring— and Jake knows how much he hates it.

He sets the guitar down swiftly and stands up, shaking his head. “Fuck you.”

They’re joking, but Rooster knows you won’t come chasing after Jake as easily as he would let on. He scared you last night; really scared you. Gave Rooster the impression that you’re smarter than he gave you credit for when you had first come poking around out here, all by yourself.

From the second things felt wrong, you had hauled yourself out of that truck like your hair was on fire. And, you hadn’t left your friend behind.

You had gone home last night, and you had checked that the latch on your bedroom window was locked. He had heard it click from across the fields, but only because he had been listening out for it.

In theory, he likes you. He’s sure that the two of you would get along just great. But, way out here is no place for a lady.

“You act like it’s my fault your balls haven’t seen action since Roosevelt died.” It’s a slight exaggeration. Rooster’s moral compass sometimes loses its true north, and he winds up rolling out of someone’s bed before sunrise once again. It’s easier when he knows he’ll never see them again.

Jake tends to be a little more… sentimental, about things.

Rooster opens his mouth to speak. He’s standing there with water droplets drying like flecks of gold on his freckled shoulders, his curls wet at the nape of his neck and his blue boxer shorts clinging to his thighs and what hangs between them. Jake looks him over, pushing up onto his elbows, venom on his tongue.

The words die in Rooster’s throat as he looks up the riverbank and finds where the faint ringing in his ears is coming from.

Upstream, nestled in the shade of the pines, Amelia watches them all. He wouldn’t notice her if he wasn’t specifically looking for her, tucked halfway back into the treeline and sitting down, her sketchbook open wide in front of her.

Her hair is wild and messy, like it always is. She must know that Rooster is watching her, but her eyes are on the ones in the water, cold and blue. Too calculated for a girl her age.

“I’m going into town,” Rooster decides, not speaking to any one of them in particular, but loudly enough for them all to hear. Amelia looks at him. Her pale skin and sharp eyes remind him of a porcelain doll sometimes, and not in a good way. “Don’t need me.”

They will, undoubtedly, need him for something around camp. Everyone around here earns their keep, despite frequently having no place in the world to be but right here. Given that Rooster no longer performs, his duties around camp look a little bit different to everyone else’s.

He breaks up the fights, and man there are plenty. He’s the one who heads into town; he can keep his head down and get what he needs, a polite face and someone not interested in finding new friends. He keeps the customers where they’re supposed to be on show nights.

Rooster pulls on his jeans and he takes his guitar.

On his walk back to their settlement, through the trees and across the fields, he gets to thinking about how much this sprawling land reminds him of fuzzy childhood memories.

He remembers his parents in shades of blue. The broken porch swing at the front of their house that his mother wasted away in. His parents’ bed with the slight dip in the middle. The car rusting away in the back, while he was still too young to drive it. He remembers everything about his mother and her sickness.

His feet brush across the grass and he thinks about his existence back then. Growing like a weed, always feeling hungry and always being too tall for his jeans. Playing with the neighboring boys in the street out front. Looking at that picture of his father in his service wear on the mantle, wondering what he would look like at that age.

Far beyond it now, Bradley hasn’t much considered his similarities to his parents. In some ways, his life is better than theirs ever was. Hell, he’s seen more of the continental United States than they ever could have dreamed of from their West Virginia trailer. He has time, which they never seemed to have enough of.

That being said, he’s glad they never got to see who he would become.

“Mornin’.” The voice startles him, which is a surprising feat in itself. Jeans unbuttoned and his shirt fisted in the same hand as his guitar, Rooster spins on his heel to look, finding Gus O’Malley himself sitting on the front porch of the Big House that Rooster had been passing by.

“Oh. Good mornin’.” Rooster tries to find it in himself to be polite, like he doesn’t know the kind of man who sits in front of him. He saw the fist-shaped hole in the house’s back door. “Sir.”

Gus is an average-looking man, with thinning hair and sun-reddened skin all over. Sun damage across the tip of his nose and his forehead, wrinkling him beyond his years. “Where are you headed?”

He looks Rooster over with an especially spiteful kind of envy.

“Just back from the river, I cut through the field.” Rooster explains with a quick gesture back over his shoulder.

Gus, red-headed and sitting with his hands on his rounded stomach, gives Rooster a look over.

“Yeah, I saw y’all out that way,” Rooster tips his head slightly, studying the amused shift in Gus’s tone. “That one with the dark hair, she your girlfriend or something?”

A pang of protectiveness strikes him. It’s not just about the fact that Natasha, who had been sunbathing on the large, flat rock that protrudes from the middle of the river, is like a sister to him. It’s that Rooster hadn’t once spotted Gus.

He hadn’t heard the heavy rattle of his strained breathing, or the lazy thudding of his heartbeat. It prickles at him like heat.

As much as Natasha can care for herself, and take care of men like Gus, Rooster doesn’t want his bulbous nose poking anywhere around their digs. His mouth tips toward an aloof smile, disarming.

“Or somethin’.” He tells Gus with a soft nod, despite having never touched Natasha in his life. Gus smiles back at him approvingly.

“How are you finding it here? — I heard Maggie was putting you to work.” Rooster knows that Gus considers this question to be a test, and that he’s gauging exactly how close Rooster has been getting to his wife.

“Quiet. Nice to have somethin’ to do sometimes.” Is all that he offers up.

Gus’s mind ticks over the answer. He leans back in his rocking chair and nods his head. “Well, you kids stay outta trouble.”

The saying is that trouble tends to follow — and that isn’t quite the case for Rooster and his crew. They usually just happen to be where the trouble is already occurring. Well, that isn’t quite the case either. There’s nothing incidental about those two things.

You too, Rooster dreams of saying aloud. Instead, his eyes spark with a calm and polite smile as he nods his head and takes that as his dismissal. “Yes, sir.”

It plays on his mind as he pads his way back to his camper, images of Gus leering at them from his truck, probably drooling something fierce. Had it been while Rooster was teaching himself that Ray Charles track, or was it while he had been bickering with Jake? — What had he been so distracted about that he hadn’t noticed?

Gus hasn’t been around much since their tenancy began, and Rooster hopes that things will be that way for the majority of the summer.

His trip into town requires more clothes than are generally needed around camp. Shoes, for one, are a must, and shirts that are actually buttoned and paired with a tidy undershirt are appreciated too. He combs some tacky, woodsy-smelling pomade through the sides of his hair to tame the air dried, river-mussed mop of curls.

Perfectly presentable to go into town and hang fliers all afternoon. He could have taken Jake and Javy with him, maybe some of the others, cut his task load in half. But the alone time is worth the hundred or so extra papers.

As some kind of sick testament to the joke that Rooster will never really be rid of Jake, Elvis on the radio accompanies him into town.

He hears you before he sees you. Smelling of daisies and cheap cigarettes and a fresh pack of gum, he twists his neck around at the stop sign and starts to wonder if he’s losing it. It’s not until the truck comes around the bend that he finds you.

Perched on the back steps of a large, brown-stoned building with a cigarette in your hand and a worried little frown plastering your face. Your hair is scraped all the way back, tucked into a neat updo, and you’re wearing a candy-striped tunic with white knee socks and Keds. Perfectly presentable.

It makes him think of the first day that he saw you, on the seats of that truck on all fours and waving at him in those little shorts.

“Maybe not branded,” You muse, letting your head fall back against the wall behind you while Olive studies the new baby blue colour on her nails. “Is there another word for when someone burns a shape into your skin?”

You don’t notice the green pickup truck pull past and head for town as you fret to Olive. It’s been a while since you had a man to complain about, but this isn’t your usual kind of conundrum.

She smirks. “Maybe it’s something freaky-deaky.”

The back-and-forth repertoire thing that brought the two of you together fails today. The witty remark dies on your tongue with a wistful sigh. You wish you could laugh with her. He laughed it off pretty easily, waved you goodnight like nothing had happened.

It just doesn’t… feel right. There’s an unsettled feeling in the pit of your stomach that you just can’t shake. “D’you think it’s like a cult thing?”

That’s no joke. You hear the stories about the hippies still hanging out in the countrysides, girls going missing across the country. Mansonites that didn’t wind up on death row.

Your folks let you get away with a lot, but joining a cult might push the boat out a little.

Olive doesn’t seem half as fazed. The miserable guy who named himself after the least impressive animal on the farm hadn’t seemed too worrying to her, beyond his attitude. “His hair was short. Guys with crew cuts aren’t in cults.”

She’s still kidding. The comment wasn’t meant to reassure, and it doesn’t.

“Yeah.” You guess, knees tucked up to your chest as you mull over the idea. He looked tidy. Smelled good. His hair was certainly a little longer than a crew cut. Rooster’s hair was longer again. Neither of them looked particularly unkempt — Jake had smelled like a piney, masculine cologne.

Cultists surely didn’t take such a pride in their hygiene.

Now, Olive knows not to joke with you too much. She had seen the dazed way you had stumbled back into the bar, colorless and rendered silent. It hadn’t taken a genius to figure out that whatever went down in the cab of that truck wasn’t a joking matter.

She just hadn’t expected it to be so strange.

You hadn’t been expecting him to let you go. Surely if he was so dangerous, he wouldn’t have helped you back into your shirt. Maybe you’d had too much to drink, but you don’t remember the last thing he said to you.

Something along the lines of taking care of yourself, making sure you got home alright. Entirely unthreatening, as he had remained in the cab to buckle his belt and wait out his boner, you guess.

“Why didn’t you just ask him what it was?” She frowns at you, plucking her cigarette from her lips and stubbing it out on the wall. Break time is over and soon Conrad will come looking,

You don’t remember that either.

You must have made such a fool of yourself scrambling out from under him and offering no explanation as to why his tattoo gave you the jeebies so bad. But then, he hadn’t exactly offered to settle you about it.

Your nose wrinkles as you straighten out your dress and follow your best friend back inside.

The Pines has this perpetual kind of dust smell. Olive joked once that it was something to do with all the time running out around here. It’s a joke that sticks with you sometimes when those years of dust are making your sinuses itch.

Faded yellow walls and deep blue carpet. Stock-image paintings on the walls. It’s an okay place to send your parents, in the grand scheme of things.

Your mind is far, far from the Pines today. Out past Airport Road, following that narrow winding road up the O’Malley driveway. You think of the two strange, strange men who live out there now.

“It could’ve been really traumatic.” There can’t be a lot of ways that someone winds up with a cross branded into their skin that aren’t traumatic. Olive doesn’t think that way. She gets her answers when she wants them. She would have asked him then and there. She’s braver than you, like that.

“Yeah. You wouldn’t want him asking about Wes.” Olive sometimes speaks without thinking. His name hits like a ricochet, which is a strange thing. You spent your first seventeen years hearing it every day. It’s a shame that now his name is tainted— it will always bring sorrow.

You’ll never scream it when he’s taunting you again, never again write a gift tag addressed to him. You swallow. You almost have to shake your head to bring you back to what the original conversation had been about— not your big brother.

“No.” You agree. Atwood knows what happened to Wesley. The story spread like wildfire that late July. In a way, you’re glad that it had — you hadn’t ever had to explain a thing for yourself because everyone already knew.

She’s back on the topic of Jake quickly. “So, you think you’ll see him again?”

You linger in the hallway as she knocks on to Mrs. Palmer’s bedroom door. “Didn’t give him my number.”

“But you know where he is.”

“Yeah,” You mull over the idea. Seems a little pathetic to drag yourself all the way out to the O’Malley farm for the third time this week. Not very ‘California’ of you to spend your time stressing over some Carnies. “I dunno.”

“Maybe it’s just a war thing.” She considers, closing the door behind her and leaving Mrs. Palmer with her morning meds. You watch Mrs. Palmer’s blue rinse disappear behind the wood, her head turned toward the window. “He was over there, probably.”

“Probably.” You agree. It’s hard to find a guy born before ‘55 that doesn’t have a thigh full of shrapnel or a jagged scar somewhere he can’t hide. But you’ve never seen anyone with a wound like Jake’s.

Teetering on the verge of hidden and displayed. He covered it up, technically, with the ink and the necklace — but he wears both on top like a badge of honour. You just can’t shake the grin on his face when he noticed that you had noticed.

Like he was excited by it.

Rooster, three blocks away, feels eyes on him from before the heel of his boot first hits the sidewalk. It’s nothing too new for him. These small towns are always filled with people who like to stare, and people who like to ask questions.

Jake’s the entertainer of the bunch, not him.

He’s got his to-do list crumpled up in the pocket of his Lee’s and that’s all he’s here for.

Hanging fliers always comes last. He has found that townsfolk don’t generally take too well to strangers coming and sticking up what they consider to be trash all over their streets. First, comes the library to get those books that’ll keep Amelia from getting bored.

The door opens with a jingle, the bell above it swinging wildly to alert the aging, half-deaf librarian of the stranger in his midst. Rooster’s boots are silent across the worn carpet, heading for the fiction section.

“Afternoon.” He nods towards the staring librarian as he passes him by, earning himself a sound of acknowledgement at least.

Amelia reads a lot, and she passes her books around camp once she’s done. She must have library fees all across the Continental US by now, but they keep her put— out of trouble.

She’s the youngest of their settlement. Maverick’s daughter when the cops come asking, just the kid he had found on the side of the road when they don’t. She’s not like the rest of them. Rooster knows that she likes him, she finds him funny and he doesn’t treat her like a baby — but he steers clear of her when he can.

She’s too curious for her own good. That’s landed them in trouble before. Trespassing seems to be in her nature, and Maverick usually has better things to do than to keep the twelve-year-old occupied. Their crew doesn’t exactly roll with too many babysitters, either.

In spite of all of that, she’s a good contortionist. Rooster watches every weekend as people in the audience gasp and lurch away from the way her joints bend and pop at will. They don’t even notice, half the time, that she’s the same grinning kid who does the aerial tricks in the first quarter.

She’s been good at making people squirm for as long as he’s known her.

“Could I check out these three, please?” He sets down the three dust-covered novels, broken spines and peeling covers included, and looks the gentleman in the eye.

“You’re into thrillers.” The man comments, picking up the top book from the small pile and inspecting it. Rooster doesn’t care to make conversation, or to correct him. He smiles and nods like that’s the case. “I’m not going to ask if you’ve got a library card with us, because I know you don’t. Are you new to town?”

Rooster bites back a sigh.

He smiles something polite, albeit tight-lipped. “Yeah. Working just outside of town, got a lotta downtime during the day. You need my name first?”

Bradley taps on the counter as the man takes down some vague details, asking his small-talk questions each step of the way. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Atwood’s desolate Main Street, where the afternoon heat has driven people back inside.

The whirring fan behind the librarian's head kicks out more dust and lint than it does cool air, growling in complaint with each circle of the fan blades.

Perspiration beads at his weathered, wrinkled skin. The long arm on his smudged watch face tells Rooster that the seconds are ticking on as normal, even though everything here feels so much slower.

He’s grateful for the heat because at least it means fresh air; leaving the librarian behind with another abrupt jingle of the bell above the door.

With barely enough time to walk back to his truck, Rooster realizes that you’re heading his way. Thoughts are buzzing around your head like radio chatter, almost enough to make him wince. He doesn’t even realize you aren’t alone until he catches the scent of Old Spice walking next to you.

He lifts the tailgate and swings it shut with a bang. You notice him as he turns his head. Walking in your cute candy-striper uniform with your bag on your shoulder and a guy at your side.

He almost smiles. This wouldn’t be the first time that Jake’s kissed a girl with a boyfriend and suffered the consequences. But, he knows better than to assume. Plus, the step that you take away from the boy at your side is instinctual.

Barely even a conscious decision, but Rooster sees it and understands what you’re telling him. The blond in the coveralls at your side is not your boyfriend.

In no mood for a conversation, or to upset the poor kid who probably thinks he’s got a chance with you, Rooster opts to give you the same polite nod he had wanted to offer everyone else that has crossed his path today, and turns his back. He walks around to the cab and flings open the glovebox, grabbing the red fliers.

Shoes tapping delicately across the pavement. Perspiration and Old Spice beading along the back of your friend’s neck. The thoughts whirring around that pretty little head as you sneak closer. You’re leaning against the truck when he straightens back up, one elbow popped against the side and your brows furrowed through the glaring sunlight.

Rooster gives you the benefit of pretending that you got the jump on him.

“Hi.” It’s a greeting by nature, but there’s something accusatory to your tone that tells him, yet again, he seems to be being held responsible for something Jake did.

“Afternoon.” Rooster answers you, lifting his head to check on the sulking guy about a foot behind you, watching this exchange with his hands in his pockets. His train of thought isn’t half as pissed off as it could be.

“Are you by yourself?” You ask him, subconsciously reaching back to feel for your updo, smoothing back some humidity-stoked stray hairs.

“Jake’s a big boy, I figured he could watch himself for one day.” He replies, not sounding exactly kind in the way he refers to his buddy.

Convenient for you at least, to be able to corner an inside source. The thought does cross your mind that maybe Jake is being punished in some way for his behavior last night, kept at their camp like a grounded kid.

“So, who’s watching you?” You poke at him, trying to get a feel for the type of mood he might be in today.

He turns his head and looks at you, his expression serious. Maybe it’s the look on your face, or maybe it’s that he likes you, but his hardened expression cracks and he breaks a smile.

“Looks like that would be you, doesn’t it?” He replies, tilting his head to the side, flashing you his stack of papers. “It’s gonna get pretty lame, just warnin’ ya.”

You turn your head and shoot a glance back at where Billy stands a couple of feet back. His hands are balled into the pockets of his overalls and he might as well be tapping his damn foot at you, but he just sulks instead.

Rooster had this look on his face when you’d left last night, just this knowing expression— a real ‘I told you so’ kind of thing. He’s more of a straight shooter than his buddy is, maybe you would get some real answers out of him.

“Well, you need some help?”

She thinks you’re a stick in the mud with an attitude problem, and yet, here you are offering to traipse all over town with him sticking these things up. Rooster looks over the top of your head, glancing back at your friend.

As much as he would get a kick out of watching you hop into the truck and stick with him, Rooster knows better. He’s already shaking his head before he speaks, certain. There’s a place for you, and it’s not with a guy like him — or a guy like Jake, for that matter.

“No, you two look like you have plans and I’m starting way out by the Shop’N’Save. I’ve got this.” He shakes the papers once and leans back against the door of the truck. He isn’t expecting you to give up easy, but he isn’t expecting you to step around him and grab the handle either.

You’ve already made your mind up. “Well, I actually wanted to talk to you, so y’know— two birds, one stone and stuff.”

Rooster stands up and watches with furrowed brows as you pull the door open and step up into the cab. Then, he looks toward your friend. Your forearm grazes at Bradley’s, your skin against his as he stares ahead.

Billy. Closer to a family member to you than a boyfriend with the tepid attitude you’ve got towards him. There’s a loyalty and affection there that Rooster would be grateful for if the roles were reversed.

Rooster looks between you, settling down onto the tan leather seat, and Billy, blue eyes are narrowed and he looking just about ready to rush him. Rooster catches the handle of the door. He considers telling you to get out. He should.

You hit him with an expectant raise of your eyebrows, and crane your neck back to look at Billy. “I’ll call you later. Take Lori out on that date!”

Billy’s mouth opens and closes. Rooster presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, his decision made for him. Even if he’s your excuse, he’s not going to make you get back out and walk home with the kid when you’re so clearly trying to ditch him. It’s just not gentlemanly.

Your mouth twitches, equally surprised at his compliance as Rooster swings the door to the truck shut with a resigned smile, walking around to his side without much acknowledging your friend at all. You’re watching Billy through the side mirror as Rooster starts the grumbling ignition.

“He’d follow me around forever if I let him.” You mumble quietly. Then, it’s like you remember yourself. You shake your head and sigh. “That sounds conceited, and I don’t mean it like that, but girls ask him out, y’know and — he just— he’d rather pick me up from work and sit in the same diner we’ve always sat in.”

There’s quiet on the other side of the cab, Billy is already walking away in the rearview mirror. You turn your head and he’s watching you, one hand on the wheel and the other out of the window.

“This is what you wanted to talk to me about?” He prompts you, knees spread and his thighs straining against the blue denim, fingers drumming against the exterior of the door. He cocks an eyebrow at you, waiting for your response.

For the second time in twenty-four hours, you’re sitting in the cab of this truck and your mouth is watering. But, you’ve got better sense this time.

“Okay, fine. Look, I want you to give me a straight answer,” You turn in the seat, tucking one knee under you and creasing your features sternly. “About what’s up with you guys. Did Jake say anything after last night?”

He considers relaying the comment about your tits, just to further ruin Jake’s chances, but he plays dumb.

“No, but I figured you didn’t have the best time when you came running back in like that.” Rooster shrugs.

“He just gave me the jeebies,” You admit, fiddling with the hem of your uniform. Your tone is light but your skin is prickled like you’ve somehow found a chill on this warm summer afternoon. “Like that tattoo on his neck, it’s like a scar, right?”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” You’re studying him from your side of the bench, and you’re good at it, looking for the smallest little tell. Eyes on the road, he gives you nothing but a shrug. “The scar’s what freaked you out?”

“No, like — it’s weird. How’d you end up in a circus? — Are you on the run or something?”

His mouth twitches. He turns his face toward the window, smiling at the scenery rather than at your face, shaking his head all the while.

“Maybe some folks just get their kicks juggling,” He taunts you with a shrug of his broad shoulders, craning his neck as he turns off of Main and toward Third. “You don’t hear me questioning your career choices.”

“Okay, fine,” You’ve seen Jake drop an entire marquee into stunned silence with his act, he’s undeniably good at what he does. You swipe through the fliers absently. “I just— I got this weird feeling from Jake last night.”

Clearly today, he’s in the mood to play. He quirks one eyebrow and smiles out at the road ahead. “Yeah, they usually tell you all about that feeling in Health Class, I think.”

You swing out a hand and smack at his arm, scoffing out a distinctly unimpressed and unladylike sound. “Shut up! I’m not talking about that, I’m talking… like that tattoo on his neck? — Was that— Was it a burn? — What was that?”

He pulls over to the side of the road coolly, killing the engine and looking across at you like you’re asking him to explain the intricacies of geometry. The Shop’N’Save is dead empty this time of day, feels like you’re the only thing around for miles. He reaches for the door handle and leans back, itching for some space, needing some fresh air.

“Means that Jake’s an idiot who’ll do just about anything on a bet.” He answers as bluntly as one can, taking the fliers from the middle of the seat and the shiny new staple gun from beside them. “He wasn’t gonna hurt you.”

You’re hot on his heels as he steps out of the truck and heads for the telephone pole, taking the fliers as you duck around him.

“I figured that much.” There’s a bite to your tone as you take the page and hold it up against the wooden pole, narrowing your eyes at him. He lifts his brows, unimpressed but amused. “I mean, I’m standing here, aren’t I?”

Standing on a stretch of road that you’ve driven by a thousand times but never once walked down, the breeze catches your skin and makes your white and pink striped skirt blow around your thighs. His gaze flickers between your face and your hand on the pole with a beat.

His boot tucks itself between your tidy white sneakers, his shoulders seeming to stretch wider as he steps up close.

He places his hand over yours and tugs it upwards, readjusting the flier to a height that he deems appropriate. Pinning your hand with his palm, he lifts his other hand and strikes a staple into the wood.

“Call it baggage. Things with us tend to get complicated,” He nails another staple into the other side of the flier, and turns to look at your face, a grin ghosting at his lips. “Hell, why don’t you put that kid you were with out of his misery and go out with him?”

As you open your mouth to argue back, he drops your hand back down to your side with a squeeze and takes a look towards the two buildings to his left. Anything to cut this conversation short.

He jerks his head toward the stores behind him. “Feel like helping a guy out and asking to stick these in their windows?”

“Fine.” You thought he was a lot cuter when you couldn’t hear what he was saying that day out on Airport Road. He leans back against the door and watches you walk inside in your uniform, thinking to himself that you’re plenty cute right now.

Just like he had expected, both the gas station and the liquor store allow you to hang the fliers without so much as a question about why. Rooster wouldn’t have gotten the same treatment.

He lifts his fingers and waves them at you as you cross the small parking lot back towards him.

“Let’s go, unless you want to be out here all day.” You hear him laugh to himself as you walk around the truck and pull yourself into the passenger side. He fixes his smile, knowing that it’s just likely to provoke you.

As much as he’d rather not have you in his passenger seat, you’re useful when it comes to navigation. He wouldn’t have even tried half of the side streets that you point him down. He humors your questions for two hours, giving you barely there answers as the beat-up, old truck rattles down oak-lined streets.

The afternoon sun fades from golden to gray somewhere between Sixth and Elm. The sky hangs low, darkening, a covering of dark clouds threatening a downpour.

By the park, Bradley pulls over and hops out with a stack of fliers, offering you little more than the instruction to, “Stay there.”

He slaps the red papers up where he can, smoothing the papers out with his palm and working them into wooden surfaces with the staple gun. You are left with the rather cushy job of sitting pretty in the cab, while he does the hard work.

A couple of kids whizz past on their bikes, calling out loudly as they cycle home. Atwood is the kind of place where mothers are more than fine with saying goodbye to their children after breakfast and not seeing them again until sundown in the summers.

While following them by, you catch sight of a glinting metal at your feet. Just to check, you feel at your earlobe. Sure enough, your earring sits in the footwell.

As the driver’s side door creaks open, Rooster stands on the sidewalk and frowns at the way you have folded yourself downwards and are reaching for something under the seat. His brows knit together as you strain uncomfortably.

“You okay down there?” He prompts.

You huff, still struggling. “My earring. I hit it all the way under the seat when I was trying to grab it— I must’ve left it last-“

Last night. When you were sprawled across the bench with Jake’s tongue in your mouth. Rooster smiles at the way you stop mid-sentence, like that’s going to save his feelings. Like he hadn’t stood inside and listened to every last part of it.

“Got it!” You pop back up, holding the dainty thing between your fingers and smiling at him. It stretches across your cheeks and your eyes glint with delight. The afternoon sun seems to brighten with you, despite the clouds rolling in from the east.

His eyes widen with a dramatism that tells you you’re being mocked. “Thank god.”

Caught somewhere between shooting him a glare and laughing, your face settles into a reticent smile as you fold your arms over your chest. “You’re a jackass, you know that?”

“So I’m told.” He agrees, settling back into the driver’s seat as the rain clouds decide to make good on their promise. Clicking his tongue, he sits back in his seat and glances across at the very much paper fliers he had just hung. “You hungry?”

“Hungry? Mm, a bit,” You shrug your shoulders, he nods, the answer spurring him into action as he heads back towards town. “Does that make this a date?”

He huffs out a small chuckle, which wounds your ego more than you would like to admit, reaching across your body to tug open the glovebox. “Depends if you’re as scared of me as you are of Jake, doesn’t it?”

Now, that’s the type of comment that doesn’t deserve an answer. You’re not afraid of him. He’s too honest to be frightening. Raw and witty, maybe a little grumpy, but man — that smile is one worth working for. You like him, a lot.

Your lovey-dovey thoughts come to a sudden stop as you track his hand. More aptly, you track what his hand nudges out of the way.

Unfazed, Rooster reaches past the box of Trojans and fishes, instead, for cigarettes. He plucks one from the pack and sets it between his teeth, then looks across at you. Watching him with an unimpressed expression that’s halfway to being a full-blown scowl.

He smiles around the cigarette.

“What? — Did you forget how that earring wound up on the floor?” He taunts you, reaching back across with little regard for your personal space, in search of a lighter.

You knock his hand out of the way and hand him the silver flint-wheel lighter from your own pocket. “It’s a big box, is all.”

He steadies the wheel with his knee, cupping his hands around the flame to ignite his cigarette, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s not my truck.”

“Hm.”

He looks across at you, one brow quirked, and a smile of disbelief toying around the cigarette.

“I’m not saying anything,” You answer, defending yourself with little conviction, arms still folded over your chest. “Just didn’t realize this passenger seat was such a tourist spot.”

He coughs out a laugh around his cigarette, his cheeks warm and crinkling around his endlessly deep brown eyes. His freckles are darker under the gray clouds, dotting his nose. He reaches across the cab and swats at your arm as you had gone for his.

You press your tongue into your cheek; keeping yourself from beaming as his hand comes up and covers your mouth, smelling of the cologne on his wrist and the cigarette he had held.

“Cool it, kid — that spot’s all yours,” He’s still laughing as he talks to you, glancing across at you. Blinking at him with his hand settled across your jaw, the gold ring on his pinkie finger sitting against your chin. He pulls it back to hold his cig, his touch leaving you longing. “Now, what do you want to eat? — I’m buying.”

You crane your neck to look at the brown leather watch on his wrist, already knowing that you’re going to be in the weeds for missing dinner back home. Damage already done, you decide to introduce him to Atwood’s finest— the shitty little diner owned by Billy’s uncle that has had the same shitty menu for thirty years.

It’s the perfect spot, in a hometown kind of way.

You hold your head a little higher than usual as you stroll through the place.

There are a couple of girls who work at Louie’s that will just die when they see you with the tall stranger, and you enjoy that just a little. Rooster enjoys it a little, too.

He’s busy looking around at the decor as he slides into the wooden booth, not exactly critical of it but not impressed either. He shucks a hand through his dampened curls and settles down into the seat, spreading his knees and kicking one of his feet between yours under the table.

“That’s the bridge out by us, right?” He asks, pointing to one of the paintings on the wall. Just another oil canvas in a dusty frame that you’ve never taken much time to critique. You purse your lips as you study it.

“Yeah, you’re right,” You come to realize, glancing back at him. “You’ve been exploring out there?”

He sits back a bit, as a tall brunette comes to fill your water glasses, brown eyes on you and a small smile on his mouth. “Yeah, a little. It’s quiet out there.”

“Lonely?” You prompt, lips stretching into an amused grin. Man, it almost gets him again. He bites at the inside of his cheek to keep from matching your look, rolling his eyes as he looks back towards the painting.

“Get real.” He mutters.

He watches you resting your chin on your palm and batting your eyelashes and simply shakes his head.

“This isn’t a date, by the way,” He’s cool as can be, staring back at you like you hadn’t seen the look in his eyes when you had him laughing. “You did me a favor, so this is me bein’ nice.”

“Well,” You hum, tapping your fingers along the edge of your glass, “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Louie’s isn’t exactly a busy spot at the best of times, but especially not on a Monday night. It’s just the two of you, the waitress who was rude to you in the playground all those years ago, and maybe a couple of line cooks in the back.

The entire place is wood-paneled three quarters of the way up the wall, with green paint covering the rest. There are family photos and mass-produced paintings on the walls, and dust on the lampshades. Roy Orbison playing on the jukebox. A candle in a glass jar lit on the table between you.

He pays attention as you recite your usual order, finding the items on the menu as you go. Then, probably to make this thing easy and over sooner, he decides he’ll just take the same.

Begrudgingly, he has to admit that your choice and your order is better than he had been expecting. Good, even. It feels good, being out and sitting across from a pretty girl, picking at fries that are a little too salty, like nothing had ever happened. Trying not to laugh too hard at her jokes, even when his lips keep twitching around the straw of his ice-cold Coke. It has been a long time.

It’s almost disappointing to settle the check, and to have to see you walking ahead of him back to the truck. The rain has stopped and the air is grassy and piney, the sky a fading lilac, casting shades of blue across your skin.

Cooler breeze passes you by, bristling at your skin just enough to make you appreciate the fading heat of earlier that day.

He starts by turning up the radio, tires rolling through a deep, mud-splattered puddle as he pulls out of the parking lot. You should feel exhausted after being at the Pines from the crack of dawn, but he’s got your stomach alight. Tapping his foot to the drum beat absently, one hand on the wheel, his jaw set and his shoulders straight.

“Which way?” Like he couldn’t piece it together. You were walking home today, you’d hightailed it to the right after leaving Dutch’s last night. It would take him minutes to find his way to your front door.

Stretching your arms above your head, you sigh and settle back against the door. “Next left and then right at the lights.”

He was right. The guesses in his head would have led him to the Post Office near the park, and then he spots that station wagon in the driveway. He lets you direct him to the right house anyway.

Sturdy car in the driveway, flower boxes on every window, and the greenest lawn on the street. It looks like a nice place to have grown up. If he had grown up in a place like this, he wouldn’t be itching to leave half as badly as you are.

He looks back to you, watching him and trying to figure out how to route the conversation back to what had happened in that dark parking lot last night.

“Thanks for helping me out today.” The plain white fabric of his t-shirt stretches around his arm as he cards his fingers through his curls.

You bite at the inside of your cheek. Fingers skimming over the stitching in the seats as you try to figure out your next move. Late already, he’s in no hurry.

“I guess I’ll see you Friday.” You decide.

His brows draw together. “Friday?”

You smile, pointing down at the significantly smaller stack of red papers now between the two of you. “Uh-huh. Friday at eight.”

Friday at eight. You’ll stroll through those lit arches, looking for him. His brows knit a bit, but he doesn’t tell you to stay away, that’s not in the rules.

He flattens his mouth a little, almost a smile but not the same kind where his eyes had lit up so bright.

“Right,” He nods. “Friday.”

You smile at him, reaching across and giving his arm a quick squeeze before you turn and hop down from the truck.

If this was a date, he would walk you to your door and sneak a kiss before your overprotective mother found an excuse to come to the door and introduce herself to him, which is when he would be charming enough to impress her but cool enough not to embarrass you.

Your heartbeat ticks steadily in your chest. You’re already thinking about what you’ll wear on Friday night— whether you’ll bring Olive, or Georgie— absolutely not Billy. He watches you climb the porch steps and let yourself in through the creaking, blue door with the glass pane in the middle, not stopping to look back at him because you’re worried that your parents will notice it was a stranger who brought you home. Your mother greets you from the kitchen.

His mouth dries as he pulls away from the curb.

He could be like Jake, and let himself enjoy the feeling. Pretend that he hasn’t done the things he has, pretend that he hasn’t sat and listened to all the thoughts you have about him.

He could pretend that he really doesn’t want to see you at the show this weekend.

But, the sun has already set on his day of normalcy. He turns the sound dial, tapping his foot to the only radio frequency that doesn’t drop out on the backroads out of town, windows down and the scent of fresh-cut, wet grass and new deliveries of hay carried by the evening breeze.

Fingers draped loosely around the cracked leather of the wheel, shooting the occasional glance over to the empty passenger seat.

Lilac skies casting shadows across the rolling fields all the way out of town.

It’s forty minutes before the truck pulls onto that gravel driveway with a growingly familiar crunch. He stops it in his spot by Jake’s trailer and steps out onto the mulchy, wet grass, following the sounds of conversation until he gets to the yellow RV.

The yellow RV houses Natasha, Bob and more recently Mickey — but that’s just until he apologizes to Reueben. Most nights, that’s where you can find the guys. It’s the furthest vehicle on the row, and Natasha always lays out rugs and the camping furniture that’ll fit in the storage space.

Like he knew he would, he finds his friends busied with a game of poker, settled into the chairs they could scrounge up, illuminated by a couple of camping torches.

Jake’s tall tale about one of their times back on the West Coast falls flat, trailing off until it stops all together. He watches Rooster cross the lot, headed right for them.

Wordless, Rooster greets his friends with a cool smile as he steps right by them and plants himself into a wooden chair at the far side of the circle.

“You were gone a while.” It’s Javy that comments first, meaning well, not doing the best job at hiding his cards as Natasha studies them shamelessly from his side.

“Yeah.” Rooster agrees, sitting forwards as Callie kicks her legs up and stretches them across his. “Deal me in.”

Jake’s brows draw together, their round seemingly dead in the water as Bob starts to collect the cards back in. He studies Rooster through the warm light of the lantern, narrowing his eyes just a bit.

“You want to play?” Jake scoffs.

Rooster rarely plays with them. He usually makes a point of keeping to himself, when they’re all together. He likes Natasha, and he’ll keep her company, when he’s not with Maverick. Everyone knows that he likes to pretend that he’s stuck with Jake, rather than accompanying him by choice.

Rooster’s mouth twitches, reaching out and letting Bob set the cards in his hand, meeting Jake’s gaze for the first time since he sauntered past him and sat down.

“Scared you’ll lose?”

…

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