#summer camp horror au

[lightwoodbanethings]

It's finally finished! My mini summer camp horror au has come to an end.

Thank you to everyone who has read it and interacted in some way, it genuinely makes my day!

I hope you enjoy the finale <3

[cuepickle]

Camp Skull Rock: The Campers

Can’t stop thinking about summer camp AU

[roosterbruiser]

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 — 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐍 𝐱 𝐘𝐎𝐔 (𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐄) 𝐱 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐖 𝟖𝟎𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐔 𝐁𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐋𝐘 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓. 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟖+. 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆. 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐍 𝟖𝟎𝐒 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋-𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑. 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄, 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄. 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇, 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄, 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑, 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓. 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊.

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐎𝐚𝐤𝐬, 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕. 𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐚, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞--𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 '𝟖𝟕 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞-𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐞. 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠--𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥, 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫. 𝐎𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐝 𝟖𝟎𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 —𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟗𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟕𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟖𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟗𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟗𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟏𝐒𝐓, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟏𝐒𝐓, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐓. 𝟏 & 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟏𝐒𝐓, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐍 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟐𝐍𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟐𝐍𝐃-𝟐𝟑𝐑𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟑𝐑𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟑𝐑𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟒𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 —𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟓𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐓. 𝟏 & 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 —𝐒𝐓. 𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐋 —𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟏𝟓𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟖

𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐂𝐔𝐓 —𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐘.

[elfqueen006]

The Lifeguard Part 4

Tags/CW: summer camp au, camp counselor au, horror, slasher, rivals to lovers. Drama. Skinny dipping. Minors DNI

It’s that dream again.

That dream where everything’s perfect.

It’s a sunny day. Everything’s in slow motion, but the sounds are in real time. Everyone is whooping and cheering. Children laugh and run past him. In the distance they zipline and play games. Counselors smile as they wave at him. Everyone is happy. Everything is perfect.

But there’s one thing missing. Skylar. It’s often in these dreams she’d walk past him and smile, giving a coy wave and a wink. She’s dressed in her loose counselors’ tee and jean shorts. Her blonde hair that catches in the sun flows behind her and her blue eyes sparkle. She’s perfect. But she’s nowhere to be seen. 

He hears the distant shrill of the lifeguards’ whistle. The water is still and perfect. There’s no one at the lake but you. You’re in the lifeguards’ bright red leotard and wearing shades. Sunlight glints off your perfect legs. You lie back in your chair, a sigh of pleasure echoes as you soak up the suns’ rays. Then you look at him and the sounds of laughter are drowned out. You smile perfect whites and blow him a kiss.

---

After a week, the camp had put out a missing persons’ flier for Skylar, Ian, and Bill. There was really nothing Jack could do to protest on the basis he’d look suspicious. It made him feel awful once local parents caught wind that people were going missing and decided to pull most of their kids from the camp. He couldn’t have imagined how much of the experience had been ruined for them, and he even had to hold back some tears of his own as he watched the smaller ones scream and cry to stay but to no avail.

But no, he reasoned, it was better this way. Less kids at the camp meant less of the likelihood that they’d go wandering past campgrounds. And that was less people to keep track of going near the shed, which after that fateful night with Bill he’d made certain no one else had ventured near it. And in the meantime, he’d kept himself occupied… a little side project you might say. He planted flowers. 

He planted them behind the shed, on top of the mound where they’d been buried. He hadn’t even known where he’d gotten the idea. But one day he’d simply ran up to the local convenience store, found some seeds and started planting. They were scorpion grasses - “forget-me-nots”. He grimaced at the implications. It didn’t take long for the other counselors’ to start noticing them in the distance. So of course they questioned him.

“Oh that?” Jack asked, “That’s sort of a… garden I’m starting.” That earned him a few narrowed glances and side eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck, using the flush of guilt to play it up like he was embarrassed. “I… haven’t been able to really sleep much since Skylar disappeared so… I just started without thinking.” At the very least, the words were true. And a half truth is always good to sell in the right context. Finally he said, “I figured maybe… If I planted these they might see them. They might want to come back. I dunno…”

They ate it right up. Their looks of suspicion turned somber and apologetic. They muttered sorrows and walked past him giving pats on the back. All except you, who sucked your teeth at the explanation. You shook your head, “They ain’t coming back.”

All eyes were on you now. Another counselor named Olivia folded her arms and raised a brow, “And… why is that Y/N?” She asked.

“Because they’re guilty.” You replied matter-of-factly. Jack gave you a pleading look, which you aptly ignored.

Olivia pressed, “Of?”

“Being slimy, trifling, no-good adulterers.” Your statement was met with scoffs and mumbles of disbelief. You simply shrugged, “You heard me, they were creepin’.” You then proceeded to spill everything you heard from Jack that night, though you were sure not to mention his name. Still, it made the mascot visibly wilt. And now it looks to everyone like he was pining after a “bad girl” who acted like a “good girl” and led him on. Where that last part came from he hadn’t known. But apparently everyone knew at some point he liked Skylar.

People weren’t so sympathetic towards you however. You’d been cheated on, that much was certain. They had no reason to dispute you, and it would explain your shit attitude the week before. But your apparent hostility towards the whole thing had made other counselors grow wary of you and they began to talk.

“She’s not even joining in on searches for them!”

“Yeah, that was still her boyfriend and best friend. You’d think she’d be a little more caring about the whole thing...”

And then things got on the more insidious side.

“I know she can be a bitch sometimes but this is too far.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if it turns out she had something to do with their disappearance.”

Jack’s blood ran cold. The thought that anyone would be accusing you of murder… It rubbed him the wrong way. The more ruthless part of him thought this was likely the best case scenario. You hadn’t mentioned his name and suspicions were already on you. You weren’t exactly what came to mind for blood thirsty ax-murderer but looks could be deceiving. He could always just relocate the bodies, adjust some wounds and… He shook his head clear of the incriminating thoughts. That wasn’t who he was. The goal was discretion and scarcity. There was no need to make things more complicated. Aside from that, there were things that needed clearing up…

You were on lifeguard duty as usual, and while there weren’t as many kids to manage, it was all the more reason to stay vigilant of them. Some counselors left due to stress but it was more you hung around to stave off boredom. You lie back in your chair, soaking up the sun’s rays, absentmindedly chewing gum. Jack shuddered, remembering his dream.

He got it again when he walked to your high chair and knocked on the stilts. Without even looking down you hop from your chair and take off your shades. You grin, “We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”

“We need to talk.” Jack said.

“You always wanna talk,” You then turn to the kids in the lake and tell them to take a hike. They all groan, disappointed their fun was interrupted. Nevertheless, they obey and go to dry off.

“I think they may hate me more than they did a week ago.” You said casually.

“I want to talk about what happened earlier this week.” Jack said.

“What about it?”

Jack sighed, “Don’t play dumb. You made such an unnecessary scene back there.”

“Sorry.” You said unapologetically.

 “I mean it. People are starting to talk.” Jack briefly glances around, “They think you have something to do with Ian and Sky’s disappearance.”

Your eyebrow furrows, “Where’d they get that from?”

“You’re bitter. You don’t help with searches. You’re just generally-”

“A bitch?” You interrupted.

“... Uncompromising.” Jack corrected.

“Oh yeah sure...” You said. “You know what? Let ‘em talk, Jack. I don’t have anything to hide! I couldn’t give less of a damn if they were found or gone forever. If they’re found – goodie. Whooptie fucking do. If they’re gone? Also good because I don’t wanna see their sorry asses anyway!”

You go to march off the docks but he sidesteps you.

“Hey- Y/N, stop.” He said.

“Bye Jack.” You bumped past him.

“Y/N-”

You waved a dismissive hand at him, heading back to the main campgrounds.

---

It’s nightfall.

The other groups of counselors have just come back from a fruitless search. The kids have been resigned to their cabins since seven in the evening, now having a curfew to prevent further disappearances. You, however, stay right where you are. You pull out another stick of gum and pop it in your mouth. The sugar sweetness turns bitter when your fellow counselors cast scornful looks your way. Even Shaun, whom you’d grown to be good buddies with since summer started, avoided your gaze. 

They aren’t even a few feet away from you when Shaun decides now is the best time to boost morale. “We’ve had a long day… what do you guys say to a movie night?” He said, a good natured lilt in his voice.

The counselors clamor around him, humming in agreement. You don’t miss the wary glances casted your way and hushed whispers about what to do about you, as if not getting an invitation would cause you to drop in and ruin their good time. Which in all honesty, wasn’t a bad idea.

“We aren’t going to invite her, right?”

“It’d be alright to ask,”

“But do we have to?!”

Exaggeratedly, you checked your nails and attempted to drown out their whispers by chewing your gum harshly. Before you knew it though, someone came up beside you. Nick Hererras. Oh boy.

Nick was an emo guy who had some kind of influencer page on Twitch or Youtube. He had an obvious crush on you and while he was cute in his own right, his sullen and heartsick vibe around you was somewhat of a downer, especially in contrast to how easygoing he’d be around others.

Nick rubbed the back of his neck, “Hey…” 

“Hey,” You replied casually.

“...It was kind of a long search today.”

“You must be tired.”

“Yeah,” He chuckled softly, “I-it was a lot.” You hum curtly. He wets his lips, picking up that he’s losing your attention before even getting it. “We- we’re having a movie night! Shaun’s hosting so… typical horror bullshit. Slashers and all… Maybe you’d like to come… a-and join us?”

You look past him and at the group of counselors. Many of them shift uncomfortably and scrunch their faces up in discomfort, obviously displeased Nick went to invite you. The fact that they don’t even hide their disdain makes your ears burn hot. You shoot up from the steps and start towards the docks, “Nah, I’ll be fine. Thanks for the invitation.” You bite out.

Nick’s weak protests could be heard. Some of the counselors sighed in relief.

“Thank God.”

“Well, we tried.”

---

“Goddamn…motherfucking-”

You roughly shucked off your pants and pulled off your shirt. The force of their removal from your body could have very well ripped them but you didn’t care. Your skin was burning with anger, embarrassment, and everything in between. With added frustration you hurriedly tore off your underclothes before taking a running start across the docks. The wind blew through your hair, though it did nothing to cool your skin; you wouldn’t be pacified until you were in the water.

Upon reaching the edge of the dock, you leapt off the wood as easily as you would a catapult. You flew through the air hands out before pulling them in along with your feet, the aerodynamics of your form caused you to flip over twice and land in the water with a big splash. The force of your dive pushed out the surrounding water, shooting it up around you. It fell in droplets on your skin as you rose to the surface. 

You sigh, wading on your back and letting the water carry you for a while.

These past few weeks have been hell. Nevermind the ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend eloping to god-knows-where, or that the head counselor had suddenly gone AWOL – but to think you were actually being suspected of murder? Jack might’ve not said those exact words but it was obvious enough what he was implying.

Your mood sours when the mascot comes to mind; even more so when you remember the garden behind the shed. 

“He’s so stupid…” You hiss. He so obviously still harbored feelings for Skylars’ trifling ass. And why that made you so ornery you couldn’t figure it out; it’s not like he owes you his allyship due to Skylars’ actions. But you didn’t understand how anyone could still like someone willing to do something so shitty. But then again, you often had your own well-being in mind and if someone proved a threat to that, it was pretty easy for you to cut them from your life completely. You’ve lost a lot of potential friends in the past because of that, and you assumed Ian would’ve been different. But in the long run he proved to be no different than the rest…

Snap.

Your head shot up as you peered out into the darkness. “Hello?” You called out. The woods responded with silence. Thinking it was the kids you called out, “If there’s any campers out there, go back to the cabins – it’s past curfew!”

Silence. Then the subtle crunch of branches beneath footwear.

“Y/N?” Jack’s soft voice called out to you before he emerged from the trees. He wasn’t in his usual costume of the big blue foamy jacket and brown pants with garish primary colored shoes. He now wore a tight white tee that hugged his muscular frame, with a pair of gym shorts. He still had on the makeup, though, probably having forgotten to wash it off.

Your ears burned hot as you realized he’d be one of the first to see you like this: swimming in the buck. Subconsciously, you folded your arms over your chest as he approached the lake.

“Y/N, why are you all the way out here?” Jack asked, “It’s not smart to separate yourself from the other counselors.”

Your initial shyness depletes when he mentions the other counselors. “You should tell them that, they’re the ones separating themselves.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Shaun’s hosting some stupid movie night and no one wants me there.” You said.

Jack blinked in surprise, “Shaun? But he’s one of the nicest counselors here.”

“Well, Nick tried… to extend the invitation, I guess. But it’s not like I wanted to go anyway. Horror movies…” You scoffed, “they’re so dumb. And it’s all Shaun watches!”

Jack sighs, “Still, you should stay close to the camp. I dunno what I’d do if another counselor went missing…”

A smirk broke out on your face as you swam up to the boardwalk, placing your hands on the wooden edge as you looked up at him. “Oh? And what would you do, Jack?”

Your sudden change in demeanor caused him to blush bright red, “I-It’s not like that!” He exclaimed, “I mean, I just want you to be safe!”

“Aww. Look at you, worried about lil’ ol’ me!” You cooed.

“Y/N, you-” He paused, finally getting a better look at you in the moonlight. It shone off your wet skin and hair, giving you the feel of some kind of siren, especially with that seductive look on your face. His eyes were drawn to your neck and shoulders, which seemed not to be covered by anything. And then he spotted your clothes…

“God, Y/N! Are you seriously skinny dipping right now?!” Jack exclaimed. 

You immediately clutched your shoulders, but you start cackling, not really finding it in you to feel guilty like before.

“Eeeyup! Care to join me?”

____

Hiii! Sorry this took awhile. This shit is hard to write my guy. It was intended to be longer but I've hit my limit...

Don't fret however, there's more to come!!

[gotlostlosingsleep]

It had only been three days since the start of summer camp and Steve had already heard enough campfire stories to last him the rest of his life. The kids kept insisting on staying up late and talking about the supposed creature in the lake...

[shepherds-of-haven]

Had a dream about the Shepherds at summer camp. I haven't had a (coherent) dream about them in a while so this was surprising to me! I think it was, like, an adult summer camp that corporations or what-have-you send people to for teambuilding and whatnot. Red, Ayla, and Halek were camp counselors; Halek was in charge of the mess hall. Trouble was some kind of ranch hand type dude who helped the camp wrangle their horses and fixed up fences and whatnot?? Briony, Lavinet, Shery, were there on an annual girls' trip and were in Cabin #8 while Riel, Blade, and Chase were in Cabin #11 as part of some forced exercise by their, like, law firm or something. The former two were absolutely miserable about it and Chase was thrilled. They were all gathered around the campfire on the first night telling scary stories about some sort of serial killer rumored to stalk the forest around the camp; then Riel stepped away to try and find signal because he was expecting an important phone call (even though the camp rules stated he shouldn't have his phone). Then he discovered that all of the camp vehicles had been sabotaged, and the terror began...

[cpasmbot6000]

Victims escaping too often? How do you dress and prepare them for dinner? Guzzeline shortage got you down? Join The Jason Vorhees Humungous School for Wasteland Creeps! You'll learn the tools to stalk, capture and butcher those pesky civilians and keep them dead with Prof. Vorhees's proven methods! You'll be the boss of your own Post Apocalypse Summer Camp in no time at all. Accepting applications for our Winter semester starting tomorrow.

[wigster07]

it is harder or easier to write fic with someone?

and we know that you had to stop Kris from torturing Kit and Jade (and us readers) with her fic ideas (and probably she had to stop you). are you two encouraging each other with these ideas now or stopping each other?

Oh it is an absolute blast getting to write with Kris. We’ve been having a lot of fun brainstorming and plotting the past couple of months.

There’s a lot of encouragement happening. I’m sure when the chopping really starts and the horror gets pumped up we may have to hold each other back. Kits got two un-crushed hands in this and I’m feeling smashy. @commanderbuffy might have to take the hammer away lol.

[killjoyconstruct]

some sketches for camp motte, a horror RP in development that i'm a part of!

character in pigtails in the second drawing belongs to @/pythonisarts

[lightwoodbanethings]

Hey you, yes you!

Are you looking for a badly written summer camp horror au featuring your fave rag tag bunch of older teens from Stranger Things? (And the unfortunate addition of Jason, Tommy and Carol 🙄)

Then look no further, welcome to my now finished fic that includes murder, cute Steddie and jealous bitter Jason.

If you do give this little fic a read then I'd really appreciate if you left kudos and/or comments! Genuinely makes my little cold heart thaw out a bit 💙

[thatdammchickennugget]

Cruel Summer

pairing - theodore nott x fem!reader

summary - on the final night of summer camp, you're thrust into a harrowing fight for survival alongside theo and the other camp counselors

warnings - summer camp au, slasher au, character death, injuries, blood, knives, stabbing, cursing, stalking, fighting, panic attack, ending is super rushed because I don't know how to write a fight scene

wordcount - 10k

18+ Minors DNI

As the sun started to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the summer campgrounds, you found yourself caught up in the flurry of activity. It was the eve of the end-of-summer party, and there was a palpable buzz in the air as counselors rushed to make the final preparations. The kids had all been picked up this evening and for this final night, only the counselors stayed back at camp, waiting to be dismissed by the camp owner the next morning.

Among them was Theo, brooding and observant, a scowl seemingly permanently etched on his face. Mattheo, Theo's ever-loyal sidekick, added to the lively atmosphere with his sarcastic remarks, while Enzo's booming laughter filled the air, punctuating every conversation. Draco and Blaise lounged nearby, the former oozing arrogance while the latter provided a calm counterbalance to the chaos.

Astoria, Daphne and Luna completed the group, their contrasting personalities adding an interesting dynamic to the mix. But it was the dynamic between you and Theo that truly stole the show. From the moment you met, there had been an undeniable tension between you—an unspoken attraction masked by biting remarks and playful insults. It was as if you were both trying to deny the chemistry that crackled between you by being downright mean to each other.

Pansy, your best friend, stood by your side, her cunning smirk mirroring your own. And then there was you, sharp-tongued and quick-witted, unable to resist a chance to push his buttons.

"Nott," you greeted Theo with a smirk, leaning against a nearby tree. "Ready to ruin everyone's fun at the party tonight?

Theo rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, ignoring the cups he was supposed to be setting out on the table. "Oh joy, it's you," he replied dryly, his voice laced with disdain.

Mattheo snickered from beside him. "Ah, young love. So beautiful," he teased, earning a glare from both you and Theo.

You shot Mattheo a look of pure irritation, deciding not to entertain his remark with a comment of your own, before turning back to Theo, a smirk playing on your lips. "You know, Nott, if brooding were an Olympic sport, you'd win gold every time."

Theo's scowl deepened, but you could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "And if being annoying were a job, you'd be filthy rich by now," he shot back, his tone laced with biting sarcasm.

Pansy, always unable to resist adding fuel to the fire, chimed in with a sly grin. "Why don’t you spare us all the headache and finally hook up with each other?”

You and Theo exchanged incredulous looks, both of you recoiling as if the very idea were repulsive. "I'd rather jump into that lake fully clothed than spend another second with her," Theo retorted, his voice dripping with disdain.

You rolled your eyes, folding your arms defiantly. "Believe me, Nott, the feeling's mutual. I'd rather listen to Enzo's terrible jokes on repeat than be anywhere near you."

Enzo, overhearing his name, chimed in with mock offense from where he was getting the fire started in the pit. "Hey, what's wrong with my jokes?”

Draco, lounging nearby and not moving a finger to help with the party preparations, couldn't resist adding his own two cents with a smirk. “I can’t stand another night of this. The sexual tension is suffocating."

You and Theo exchanged disgusted glances. "Please, Malfoy, spare us the melodrama," you retorted, cursing the fact that you felt your face heating up.

Theo nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I'd rather be compared to a garden slug than be associated with her in any way."

Mattheo chuckled, thoroughly entertained by the exchange. "Just get it out of your systems already.”

You scoffed, pushing yourself off the tree to help the girls with setting up the cooler and getting the drinks, rolling your eyes. "I'd rather wrestle a bear."

Theo raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes. "Trust me, I'd pay to see that."

As the evening gave way to the night, the party continued on in full swing, the atmosphere of the little clearing at the like you had chosen for tonight shifted into one of excitement and celebration.

You found yourself with Pansy and Astoria by your side, giggling into your cups as you sipped the alcohol Enzo had managed to smuggle into camp. The fire cast a warm glow over the area, creating a magical ambiance for the night ahead.

Theo, surprisingly relaxed, was chatting with Mattheo and Enzo by the bonfire, a rare smile gracing his features. Nearby, Draco and Blaise lounged on blankets, engaged in a lively debate with Luna about god knows what, while Daphne sketched quietly under the soft glow of the lanterns.

Meanwhile, you and the girls had found your own corner of the party, where you danced to the music that filled the air, laughing and twirling beneath the starlit sky. Pansy's cunning smirk never left her face as she teased you about your questionable dance moves, while Astoria added to the playful banter with her witty remarks.

The night seemed to stretch on forever, filled with laughter and camaraderie as you danced, sang, and shared stories with each other. You felt a sense of freedom and joy wash over you, the weight of responsibility lifted for the moment as you lost yourself in enjoying the last night of camp, before going back to the reality of university.

As the night wore on and the party reached its peak, you excused yourself to use the bathroom, navigating the darkened paths of the campgrounds. The air was cool and crisp, a welcome relief from the heat of the campfire.

But just as you stepped out of the girl’s bathroom and back onto the path leading to the lake, a sudden noise shattered the silence, grovel crunching as someone stepped on it, causing you to jump in surprise. Your heart raced as you scanned the darkness, your senses on high alert.

Out of the shadows emerged Theo, his figure illuminated by the soft glow of the light next to the bathroom door. "What? Did I scare you?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You let out a nervous laugh, relieved to see a familiar face. "What the fuck, Nott," you breathed out, trying to mask your lingering fear. Your hand came up to rub the spot over your heart through your shirt, trying to calm your breathing. "Don’t sneak up on me that."

Theo's playful demeanor faded, replaced by a furrowed brow as he stared past you, his gaze fixed on something behind you. "Wait," he muttered, his voice low and urgent. "Do you see that?"

“Haha, really funny,” you grumbled, shooting him a glare.

“Not trying to be funny right now,” he mumbled lowly, eyes squinting in the direction of the woods.

Confused, you followed his line of sight and spotted a shadowy figure lurking near the edge of the trees. Your heart skipped a beat, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. "What is that?" you questioned, your voice low as if the person was close enough to hear you.

At first, Theo seemed unfazed, brushing off your concern with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Probably just Mattheo trying to pull some stupid prank," he muttered, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

But as the figure stepped closer, the glint of something metallic catching the faint light, along with the realization that the person’s face was covered with a gruesome mask. Theo's demeanor shifted, his eyes widening in alarm, and he took a step back, his arm instinctively reaching out to push you behind him. "That's not funny, Mattheo," he called out, a frantic edge to his voice.

The figure didn't respond, instead picking up its pace and charging toward you, the gleam of a knife now unmistakable in its hand. Panic surged through you, and Theo wasted no time, pushing you back and grabbing your hand in a tight grip as he pulled you along.

"What the fuck!" he shouted, his voice urgent as he sprinted toward the nearest cabin, his feet pounding against the dirt path. You stumbled alongside him, your heart pounding in your chest as fear propelled you forward.

Theo's grip never faltered as he dragged you along, his eyes darting over his shoulder to ensure the figure wasn't gaining on you. Adrenaline fuelled your movements, your lungs burning with exertion as you ran faster.

Finally, you reached the safety of the first cabin in your path, Theo slamming the door shut behind you with a resounding thud. With trembling hands, you hastily helped him push one of the dressers in front of it, your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

For a moment, you both stood there, chests heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. The adrenaline began to ebb away, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion as the reality of what had just transpired sunk in.

Theo leaned against one of the wooden bunk beds, his breathing ragged as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. His usually stoic demeanor had cracked, replaced by a vulnerability you'd never seen before. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer now, stripped of its usual sarcasm.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "Who was that?"

“No idea,” Theo's gaze softened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. "We need to figure out what's going on," he said, his tone serious as he glanced around the cabin for any signs of danger.

With trembling fingers, Theo reached for a nearby flashlight, most likely forgotten by one of the campers, casting a weak beam of light across the room. The cabin was sparsely furnished, the walls adorned with faded photographs and peeling wallpaper.

"I’m going to call Pansy," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you reached for your phone, only to be met with the dreaded realization that there was no signal.

Panic clawed at the edges of your mind as you tried in vain to refresh the signal, but the bars remained stubbornly absent. "There's no signal," you muttered, the words heavy with defeat as you sank onto one of the worn mattresses.

Theo's jaw tightened, a frustrated exhale escaping his lip. "Great," he muttered, meeting your gaze with a glare.

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to snap back at him. Despite the tension between you, there seemed to be an unspoken understanding that now was not the time for petty squabbles.

"We need to figure out our next move," Theo continued, his tone serious as he glanced around the cabin. "We can't just sit here and wait.”

You nodded in agreement, your mind racing as you weighed your options. "We could try to make a run for it," you suggested, though the idea of venturing out into the darkness sent a shiver down your spine. “I have my keys on me. We can go and get help, maybe find a signal further up the road?”

Theo shook his head, his expression grim. "It's too risky," he said, his voice low. "We don't where this fucker went and the parking lot is on the other side of camp.”

Silence descended upon the cabin as you both grappled with the gravity of your situation. Outside, the night air was thick with an oppressive darkness, the only sound the distant chirping of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the wind.

After what felt like an eternity, Theo spoke again, his voice hesitant as he cautiously peered through the windows to check the space around the cabin. "We should scout the area," he suggested, his gaze meeting yours. "See if we can find any signs of where they might have gone. And then go find the others."

You nodded in agreement, though the prospect of venturing out into the unknown filled you with a sense of dread. With the flashlight in hand, Theo led the way as you followed close behind, helping him push the dresser out of the way again.

You stepped cautiously out of the cabin, the night air enveloping you like a thick blanket, shrouding the campground in an eerie darkness. The distant sounds of the party had faded into the background, replaced by an unsettling silence that hung heavy in the air.

With the weak beam of the flashlight guiding your way, you and Theo navigated the labyrinth of darkened paths that wound through the campgrounds. Each step felt like a leap into the unknown, your senses on high alert for any sign of danger, though there was no sign of the attacker to be seen anywhere.

As you made your way back towards the lake, the familiar sights of the campground took on an ominous quality in the darkness. The rustling of leaves and the whisper of the wind seemed to carry a sense of foreboding - as if warning you to turn back before it was too late.

As you made your way back to the party site, a sense of dread settled over you as you found the clearing deserted, with no sign of your friends. The once lively atmosphere had been replaced by an eerie silence.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you surveyed the scene before you. Lanterns lay scattered on the ground, their soft glow flickering ominously in the darkness. Tables and chairs were overturned, and the remnants of food and drinks littered the ground, giving the impression of a chaotic struggle.

Panic clawed at the edges of your mind as you took in the sight, your distress palpable in the tense set of your shoulders and the rapid rise and fall of your chest. There, right next to the fire, was a puddle of red.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

The sight sent a chill down your spine, a cold hand of fear tightening around your heart. You took a step back, your mind reeling with disbelief and horror.

Theo's grip on the flashlight tightened, his expression grave as he surveyed the scene before you. His usually stoic demeanor cracked, replaced by a sense of urgency and concern. "We need to find them," he said, his voice low and urgent.

You nodded in agreement, your breath coming out labored as your heartrate picked up. "But where could they be?"

Theo's jaw tightened, his gaze sweeping over the deserted clearing as if searching for any clue that could lead you to your missing friends. "We need to search the campgrounds," he said, his tone resolute. "They could be hiding, or worse..."

“We should check the lodge first,” you suggested, trying to push your anxiety to the back of your mind and be useful. Theo's steady presence beside you only offered a sliver of comfort, grounding you. “Seems like the safest place to go.”

Theo nodded in agreement, his expression grim. "Agreed," he replied, his tone serious as he scanned the area for any sign of movement. "That’s probably where they went. And we should get to them before any of them is stupid enough to go out looking for us.”

"Do you think whoever tried to attack us is still out there?" you asked, your voice shaking.

Theo's jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing as he still scanned the darkness beyond the clearing. "I don't know," he admitted. "But we can't afford to take any chances."

Theo and you pressed forward with determined strides, your senses on high alert as you made your way toward the lodge. But as you rounded a bend in the path, your movements faltered, your breath catching in your throat as you stumbled upon the shadowy presence of the masked figure blocking your path.

Panic surged through you both as you found yourselves face to face with danger once again, your hearts pounding in your chests. Instinctively, Theo pulled you back into the cover of the trees, shielding you both from view as you silently communicated your next move.

As the footsteps drew nearer, you shared a fleeting glance with the boy next to you, a silent understanding passing between you, an unspoken vow to protect each other at all costs.

With a shared resolve, you and Theo braced yourselves for the imminent confrontation. The masked figure loomed closer, its heavy footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to run, to flee from the danger that lurked before you, but you stood your ground, ready to face whatever came your way.

As the figure stepped into the dim moonlight, its menacing silhouette became clearer, the glint of the knife held tightly in its hand sending another shiver down your spine. Adrenaline surged through your veins, sharpening your senses as you prepared for the inevitable clash.

Theo's grip on the flashlight tightened, his jaw set in determination as he positioned himself between you and the approaching threat. His eyes narrowed, scanning the figure for any sign of weakness or vulnerability.

"Stay behind me," he whispered, his voice low yet firm as he braced himself for the impending confrontation. His stance was steady, his resolve unwavering as he prepared himself to fight.

With bated breath, you watched as the figure drew ever closer, its masked gaze fixed upon you with an unsettling intensity. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to flee, to seek safety in the darkness, but you remained rooted to the spot, unwilling to abandon the boy willing to put himself between you and the attacker.

As the figure closed in, its intentions clear, Theo raised the flashlight in a defensive gesture, its beam casting a harsh light upon the masked intruder. In that moment, time seemed to slow.

The figure lunged forward, knife flashing, but Theo was ready. With swift reflexes, he dodged the attack, his movements fluid and controlled. In one well-aimed motion, he redirected the assailant's momentum, using their own force against them to create an opening.

But just as Theo was about to land a decisive blow, a sudden commotion nearby caught both of your attention. Another figure emerged from the shadows, shouting something inaudible. The distraction was enough to break the momentum of the confrontation.

Without hesitation, Theo grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the chaotic scene. The two of you ran, your feet pounding against the dirt path as you sprinted through the darkness. Fear fuelled your movements, driving you to put as much distance between yourselves and the assailants as possible.

But the danger was not far behind. They gave chase, their footsteps echoing ominously in the night. Panic surged through you as you as the realization that you were being pursued by not just one, but multiple attackers sank in.

As you ran, the adrenaline-fueled rush of the chase made it difficult to think clearly. Every corner turned, every shadowy figure in the darkness, seemed to hold the potential threat of danger. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your heart pounding in your chest as you pushed yourself to keep going.

Just when you thought you couldn't run any longer, you stumbled upon a storage shed nestled among the trees. Without hesitation, Theo yanked open the door, pulling you inside before carefully and quietly closing the door behind you.

Inside the shed, the air was thick with the smell of must and decay. Your heart hammered in your chest as you pressed yourself against the wall, willing your breath to quieten as you strained to listen for any sign of the attackers outside. Theo’s tall frame crowded you against the wall even further, his hand coming up to cover your mouth and stifle your heavy breathing.

You could barely make out his eyes, your body shaking as you tried to focus on the way he was looking at you, his touch managing to calm you the slightest bit as the footsteps outside drew nearer.

As the tension in the shed mounted, you found yourself hyper-aware of Theo's presence, his closeness both comforting and disconcerting in the cramped space. His hand over your mouth felt oddly intimate, a silent reassurance keeping you grounded.

In the dim light filtering through the cracks in the shed, you could see the determination etched on Theo's face, his eyes fixed on yours with unwavering focus. Despite the danger lurking just beyond, there was a sense of strength in his demeanor that offered you a sliver of hope that you might get out of this alive.

As the footsteps came closer, your breath caught in your throat, every nerve in your body on high alert. In the suffocating darkness of the shed, the only sound was the pounding of your heart, echoing in your ears like a drumbeat of impending doom.

But just as you braced yourself for the inevitable, the footsteps suddenly faltered, fading into the distance until all that remained was the eerie stillness of the night. Relief flooded through you like a tidal wave, leaving you dizzy with gratitude that the danger had passed - for now.

Slowly, Theo removed his hand from your mouth, his touch lingering for a moment longer before he withdrew, his gaze leaving yours and moving to the door. For the first time since the night's harrowing events had begun, you allowed yourself to truly look at him - to see beyond the facade of sarcasm and disdain to the vulnerability hidden beneath. In the soft glow of the shed, his features softened, his guard momentarily lowered as he met your gaze with a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

Without a word, Theo stepped back, giving you space to breathe as he leaned against the opposite wall, his shoulders slumped with weariness. The tension that had gripped the air moments before began to dissipate momentarily as you took a moment to catch your breaths.

"You okay?" Theo's voice broke the silence, his tone soft as he glanced over at you.

You nodded, though the adrenaline still coursed through your veins, leaving you shaky and unsettled. "Yeah, I think so," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "That was close."

Theo's lips curved into a weary smile, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes despite the gravity of the situation. "Tell me about it," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know about you, but I could really use a drink right about now."

You chuckled softly, the sound almost lost in the quiet of the shed. "You and me both," you agreed, the tension in your shoulders beginning to ease as the adrenaline began to fade. "But for now, I'll settle for just getting out of here in one piece."

Theo nodded in solemn agreement, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he pushed himself off the wall, his movements slow and deliberate. "Let's get to the lodge," he said, his voice low yet determined as he moved towards the door.

You followed suit. With Theo leading the way, you cautiously opened the door, peering outside to ensure the coast was clear before stepping back into the cool night air.

As you quietly made your way back towards the lodge, the adrenaline-fueled rush of the chase gave way to a strange sense of camaraderie between you and Theo. Silence enveloped you as you walked, broken only by the soft sounds of your footsteps echoing in the darkness. But amidst the quiet, there was a strange sense of intimacy in the shared solitude.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

As you and Theo cautiously made your way through the darkened campgrounds, your senses on high alert for any sign of danger, you had to stifle a surprised cry when you suddenly stumbled upon two familiar figures emerging from the shadows behind one of the cabins. Mattheo and Enzo's presence on the path caught you off guard, and for a moment, all four of you frozen in surprise.

"Oh, thank god. There you are,” Enzo exclaimed, his voice carrying a hint of concern as he approached. Your feet reclaimed their ability to move and you jumped forward, throwing your arms around the taller boy, pulling him close.

Theo stepped forward, his demeanor tense yet guarded as he exchanged a glance with Mattheo. "What are you doing out here in the open?” he questioned, his eyes narrowing as he regarded his two friends warily.

Mattheo flashed a sheepish grin, his usual swagger momentarily replaced by a sense of unease. "We were looking for you," he explained, his tone hesitant. "The others are safe at the lodge. But you two kinda disappeared and we thought something happened to you. I’m guessing you don’t know what’s happening either. Who are these bastards?”

You exchanged a wary glance with Theo, the events of the night still fresh in your mind. "No idea,” you replied. "But we should go. It's not safe out here."

Enzo nodded in agreement, his expression grave. "Agreed. Let's stick together and make our way back," he said, his tone serious as he fell into step beside you and Theo.

Finally reaching the lodge, you found the others huddled inside, barricaded and on high alert. Draco lay unconscious and bleeding on the floor, while Pansy tended to him with a sense of urgency. Blaise was huddled in the corner, trying to calm Luna down as she trembled with fear.

Upon seeing you and Theo return with Mattheo and Enzo, a mixture of relief and anxiety washed over the group. Astoria rushed forward to embrace you, her voice trembling with emotion as she expressed her relief at seeing you both safe.

"What happened out there?" Daphne asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she glanced nervously towards the windows.

Theo's jaw tightened, his expression grim as he recounted the harrowing encounter with the masked assailant. Mattheo and Enzo added their own accounts, their voices laced with a sense of urgency as they emphasized the need for caution.

As the gravity of the situation settled over the group, you all gathered together to figure out a plan of action. Ideas were tossed around, each one more desperate than the last as you grappled with the reality of your situation.

"We need to get help," Blaise stated, his voice tinged with desperation. "There must be a way to contact someone who can help us get out of here."

"Maybe we could try using the radio?" Luna suggested, her voice soft but carrying a sense of hope. "I used it every morning for the announcements, maybe we can use it to send a distress signal."

The suggestion hung in the air for a moment, the group exchanging uncertain glances as they considered the idea. The radio had been a staple of the morning routine at the camp, but whether it could be used to send a signal for help remained uncertain.

"It's worth a shot," Astoria spoke up, her voice tinged with a note of optimism. “I’ll come with you.”

“Me too,” Blaise added, resting his hand on Luna’s thigh as she offered him a tiny smile.

As the group discussed how to use the radio to get a message out there, Theo's gaze shifted towards you, his expression serious as he addressed you directly.

"Hey, you said you have your car keys on you, right?" Theo asked, his voice low yet urgent.

You instinctively reached into your pocket, your fingers wrapping around the familiar shape of the keys. With a nod, you confirmed, "Yeah, I've got them."

A flicker of determination crossed Theo's features as he turned to address the group again, his voice carrying a sense of resolve.

"Alright, here's what we're gonna do," he began, his tone commanding as he outlined his plan. "Blaise, Luna and Tori. You go to the radio shed and send the signal. While you do that, some of us sneak out to the parking lot, grab a car, and get help. I don’t think we can move Draco, so some of us have to stay back here and hide with him."

The suggestion hung in the air for a moment, the group exchanging uncertain glances as they considered the risks. You were the first to speak up again, even though you knew splitting up was probably the one thing you’re not supposed to be doing right now, you couldn’t help but trust Theo. “I’m coming with you.”

Mattheo wrapped one of his arms around your shoulders, nodding in agreement. “Me too.”

“Okay,” Theo breathed out, looking at the others before addressing Pansy. “You, Daphne and Enzo stay here. And I mean stay. Don’t come out looking for us, not matter how long we’re gone, okay?.”

Pansy nodded, her expression serious as she regarded Theo. "Got it. We'll stay put and keep Draco safe," she affirmed, her voice resolute.

Daphne and Enzo exchanged a glance, their expressions mirroring a mixture of worry and determination. "We'll be ready in case anything happens," Daphne assured, her voice steady despite the underlying tension.

With the plan set, the group sprang into action, dividing into two teams to carry out their respective tasks. Theo and Blaise checked the doors and windows of the lodge one more time, making sure they were secured, while you and Luna rifled through the closets and cabinets, trying to find anything proving useful as a weapon.

Finally, Luna, Blaise, and Astoria made their way towards the radio shed, their footsteps echoing in the silence of the night as they disappeared into the darkness, armed only with one of the baseball bats you had found lying around the common room of the building.

Meanwhile, you, Theo, and Mattheo set out towards the parking lot, moving with cautious yet determined strides. Theo was once again in charge of the flashlight, you following close behind him with your keys clutched between your fingers, Mattheo rounding up the group with a tight grip on his own baseball bat.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You reached the parking lot without any signs of the masked figures, Theo scanning the area for any signs of movement, his gaze narrowing as he assessed the situation. "Alright, let's make this quick," he said, his voice low yet commanding.

You and Mattheo nodded in agreement, your movements swift and purposeful as you searched for your car. Finally, you spotted it parked near the edge of the lot. Not wanting to risk attracting attention by unlocking it remotely, you crept towards it, pushing the key into the lock.

Theo jumped into the passenger seat and Mattheo claimed the back, turning to keep an eye on the lot out of the back window. You turned the ignition, your hope deflating as the car gave no sign of starting.

“Try it again,” Theo grumbled, and you wiped at the sweat collecting at your brows. You tried again, and again, and again. Still, the car stayed silent. “Give me the keys,” Theo growled, grabbing them from your hands and trying himself.

“I know how to start my fucking car, Nott,” you snapped at him, refraining from punching the steering wheel in frustration. “Something’s wrong. Let me check the engine.”

Without waiting for his response, you threw open the door and stepped back out of the car, rushing to open the hood. Using your phone’s flashlight, you tried to find the problem, making a mental note to thank your father for making you help out in his car shop all the time.

The boys had jumped out of the car as well, flanking you on each side as they kept watch while you worked. Finally, you found the problem, tears of frustration filling your eyes. “The fuel line is cut. Someone cut my fucking fuel line.”

“Can you fix it?” Mattheo asked, shuffling on his feet, his anxiety clear on display even though he tried to hide it.

“I could try with some rubber band and a rubber tube or a hose or something. But even then I’m not sure if it would work and we wouldn’t get very far if it did,” you sighed dejectedly, shaking your head weakly.

“Can you hot-wire one of the other cars?” Theo suggested, his face tense with concern.

"Who do you think I am? Do I look like I know how to hot-wire a fucking car?" you spat at him, your nerves getting the better of you. "And what is the chance those fuckers only messed with my car? They couldn't have known we only had the keys for this one on us."

Theo held up his hands in a placating gesture, his expression grim as he regarded you. "Hey, calm down. I'm just trying to figure out our options here," he said, his tone surprisingly gentle despite the tension in the air.

You took a deep breath, trying to rein in your frustration as you considered Theo's words. He was right - panicking wouldn't help the situation.

“We could still just walk?” Mattheo butted in, shrugging as his gaze flitted between you and Theo.

“It would take us like 2 hours to even get to the main road and then we’d need to get lucky to find someone on the road that late willing to stop for us,” you shook your head at him, squeezing his arm to let him know you still appreciated the idea. “And for all we know those bastards are watching us right now, they might follow us."

Theo nodded in agreement, his jaw tight as he considered your words. "She's right," he said, looking at Mattheo, his voice grave. "We can't risk exposing ourselves any further.“

“We should leave a message and get back to the others I think,” you blurted out your next best idea. “Let’s hope Luna managed to contact someone.”

Mattheo’s brows furrowed. “A message?”

“For whoever might have heard Luna’s radio signal,” you explained. “Or Mr. Hargrove. He was coming to dismiss us in the morning, remember? We should let him know about what’s going on so he can call for help before blindly running into danger looking for us.”

“Good thinking,” Theo complimented you gently, reaching over to squeeze your shoulder reassuringly. Something warm fluttered in your stomach at his touch but you shoved the thought of it to the back of your mind, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. “Let's hurry up and do that and then go back to the lodge.”

With a nod of agreement from both boys, you quickly brainstormed the contents of the message. Scribbling down a brief summary of the situation and the camp's location on a torn piece of paper, you left it tucked under the windshield wiper of your car, hoping it would catch the attention of anyone passing by.

As you made your way back to the lodge, a heavy silence settled over the group. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on your shoulders, each step feeling like a precarious dance between danger and safety.

A sudden rustle in the bushes nearby made you all freeze in your tracks. Instinctively, you reached for your makeshift weapons, your heart pounding in your chest as you strained to see through the darkness.

Out of the shadows emerged two menacing figures, their faces obscured by their masks as they moved with predatory grace towards you.

Without a moment's hesitation, Theo grabbed your arm, his voice urgent as he shouted, "Run!"

Adrenaline surged through your veins as you sprinted alongside Theo and Mattheo, your feet pounding against the forest floor as you desperately tried to put distance between yourselves and the masked figures.

But no matter how fast you ran, it seemed as though the attackers were always one step behind, their relentless pursuit driving you deeper into the darkness of the woods.

Suddenly, you stumbled over a protruding root, your body crashing to the ground with a painful thud. Gasping for breath, you struggled to push yourself up, but a sharp pain shot through your leg as you realized you had twisted it in the fall.

Before you could even attempt to push yourself back up, one of the masked assailants loomed over you, brandishing a gleaming blade in their hand. Fear gripped your heart as you braced yourself for the inevitable attack.

With a swift motion, they lunged forward, their blade slicing through the air towards you. Instinctively, you raised your arms to shield yourself, but the sharp sting of pain erupted through your leg as the blade made contact, tearing through your flesh.

Agony washed over you as you collapsed back to the ground, your vision swimming with tears as you fought to stay conscious. Through the haze of pain, you could hear the sounds of struggle nearby, but you were powerless to intervene.

In a desperate bid for survival, you reached for the nearest object within your grasp—a fallen branch—and swung it wildly, hoping to buy yourself enough time to escape.

But before you could land a single blow, a blur of movement streaked past you. It was Theo. His normally composed demeanor replaced by a ferocious determination, he launched himself at the attacker with a primal rage burning in his eyes.

With a swift and precise strike, Theo delivered a powerful blow to the assailant's jaw, causing them to stumble backward with a grunt of pain. Seizing the opportunity, he unleashed a flurry of punches and kicks, driving the attacker back further with each strike.

You watched in awe as Theo fought with a raw intensity, his movements fueled by a fierce protectiveness that left you breathless. Finally, with a well-placed kick, Theo sent the attacker sprawling to the ground. Breathing heavily, he turned to you, his expression softening with concern as he reached out to help you up.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with worry as he supported your weight and helped you to your feet. "We need to keep moving."

You nodded, gratitude swelling in your chest for Theo's unwavering bravery. With his help, you pushed through the pain in your leg and stumbled forward, leaning on him for support as you limped away from the scene of the struggle.

Mattheo quickly moved to your other side, wrapping his arm around your waist to support you as well. Together, the three of you limped hurriedly back towards the safety of the lodge, each step a struggle against the pain shooting through your injured leg.

Theo kept a vigilant eye on your surroundings, his grip on the flashlight tightening as he scanned the darkness for any signs of danger. As you approached the lodge, the tension in the air grew thicker with each passing moment. The sounds of the forest seemed to echo with an ominous warning.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you stumbled through the door of the lodge, Enzo letting you in and barricading it back shut behind you, collapsing onto the nearest chair with a sigh of relief. Pansy rushed forward to help you, her expression filled with concern as she assessed your injuries.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice trembling with worry as she examined your leg.

You recounted the harrowing encounter with the masked attackers, your words punctuated by gasps of pain as you struggled to hold back tears. Theo and Mattheo filled in the details, their voices steady despite the lingering tension in the air.

As Pansy tended to your injuries with Theo close by your side, his grip tight on your hand as he watched your friend work, the rest of the group gathered around where Draco was now resting, pale but conscious again.

The group talked amongst themselves, voices hushed but urgent, as they debated their next course of action. Blaise and Luna explained that they had managed to send a signal using the radio, but they weren't sure if anyone had received it or if help was on the way.

"We might have to wait it out until morning," Luna suggested, her voice tinged with resignation. "It's too risky to go out there again in the dark."

Blaise nodded in agreement, his expression grim. Theo glanced around the room. "We'll take turns keeping watch," he declared, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "We can't afford to let our guard down, not even for a moment. But we also need to rest."

The group murmured their agreement. As the night wore on, the group settled into an uneasy vigil, taking shifts to keep watch over the lodge and its occupants. Each creak of the floorboards and rustle of the wind outside sent shivers down their spines, but they refused to succumb to despair.

As the night wore on, the weight of the recent events began to take its toll on you. Despite the adrenaline that had kept you going, the pain from your injured leg and the lingering fear gnawed at your resolve. You tried to push through it, to focus on the task at hand, but as the time passed and there was nothing to distract you, your anxiety began to bubble to the surface.

You felt the familiar tightness in your chest, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps as panic threatened to overwhelm you. Desperately, you tried to keep it together, not wanting to draw attention to yourself in front of the others. But the harder you fought to control it, the more it seemed to consume you.

With a shaky hand, you rose from your seat, mumbling something about needing to use the restroom. Pansy shot you a concerned look, but you waved her off, plastering a weak smile on your face as you made your way towards the back of the lodge.

Once you were out of sight, you quickened your pace, your heart pounding in your ears as you searched for a place to hide. Finally, you found a small storage room tucked away in a corner, its door slightly ajar. Without hesitation, you slipped inside, closing the door behind you with a shaky breath.

Alone in the darkness, you sank to the floor, your chest heaving as you struggled to calm your racing thoughts. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the full weight of the night's events crashed over you, threatening to drown you in a sea of fear and uncertainty.

But just as you felt yourself slipping further into despair, a soft voice cut through the darkness, pulling you back from the brink.

"Hey."

You looked up to see Theo standing in the doorway, his expression filled with concern as he took in your trembling form.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle as he stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him.

You tried to nod, to reassure him that you were fine, but the words caught in your throat as another wave of panic washed over you.

Theo crouched down beside you, his touch light as he reached out to brush a stray tear from your cheek. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're safe now. I won’t let anything else happen to you."

You wanted to believe him, to let his words wash away the fear that threatened to consume you, but it was easier said than done. The events of the night had shaken you to your core, leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed. His steady gaze met yours, filled with a warmth and understanding that eased some of the tension coiled in your chest.

"I know it's been a rough night," he continued softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. "But we're all in this together. You don't have to face it alone."

His words struck a chord deep within you, stirring a sense of gratitude and affection for him that you hadn't fully acknowledged before. In the midst of chaos and danger, Theo had remained a steadfast source of support and strength, never wavering in his determination to keep you safe, putting your safety above his own again and again.

As you gazed into his eyes, a rush of emotions threatened to overwhelm you. The fear and uncertainty that had gripped you moments ago began to ebb away, replaced by a growing sense of clarity and resolve.

Without thinking, you reached out, your hand trembling as it cupped Theo's cheek. His breath caught in his throat, surprise flickering in his eyes as he met your touch.

"I...I just..." you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words to express the tumultuous emotions swirling inside you.

Without thinking, you leaned forward, closing the distance between you and Theo. His breath caught in his throat, surprise flickering in his eyes as he realized your intent. But before he could react, your lips met his in a tender kiss.

Theo's initial surprise melted away into a shared passion as he responded to your kiss with equal fervor. The tension that had been building between you for so long ignited into a blaze of desire, all the emotions you had been trying to push down bubbling to the surface.

His arms encircled you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, each touch sending sparks of electricity coursing through your veins. Lost in the heat of the moment, you straddled his lap, drawing him closer until there was no space left between you.

Time seemed to stand still as you explored each other with a hunger born of longing and need. Every touch, every caress, was a silent confession of the feelings you had kept hidden for so long, now laid bare in the raw intensity of the moment.

Finally, as the need for air became too overwhelming to ignore, you reluctantly pulled away, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you gazed into Theo's eyes, your heart pounding in your chest.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air thick as you struggled to catch your breath. But then, with a soft smile, Theo reached up to cup your face in his hands, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper as he leaned in to press a tender kiss against your forehead. "But I really thought you hate me.”

A surge of warmth flooded your chest as you realized that your feelings were reciprocated, that the connection you had shared had been more than just a figment of your imagination.

"I don’t," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you leaned into his touch, relishing the feeling of his warmth against your skin. "I've wanted this for so long, too."

You closed your eyes as Theo wrapped both arms tightly around you, his kisses peppering your hair and temple, his embrace so protective, so sweet, that your own arms instinctively tightened in response.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Upon returning to the main area of the lodge, you quickly took stock of the situation. Draco was now lying down in one of the bedrooms upstairs, Astoria currently by his side keeping watch. Luna and Blaise had vanished into the kitchen a while ago. Enzo and Pansy had made themselves busy arranging all the blankets and pillows they could find around the centre of the room and were now fitfully snoring away.

"I'll go stay with Draco," you announced, turning to the members of the group still wide awake and gesturing towards the staircase. "Let Astoria rest for a while.”

Theo instantly got back up from where he had just sat down next to Mattheo but you shook your head at him, offering him a small smile. “You get some rest too, I’ll just be upstairs.”

He listened, but you could tell he wasn’t happy with staying down here by the way his jaw clenched tightly and his eyes flashed protectively.

Pansy nodded gratefully, her exhaustion evident as she murmured her thanks. "Just be careful, okay?"

You offered her a reassuring smile before making your way towards the staircase. However, as you pushed open the door, your heart skipped a beat at the sight that greeted you.

The room was dimly lit by the moonlight streaming in through the window, casting eerie shadows across the floor. Draco lay asleep on the bed, his breathing steady and peaceful. But Astoria was nowhere to be seen.

A surge of panic shot through you as you scanned the room, frantically searching for any sign of her presence. With a sinking feeling in your gut, you realized that Astoria was not in the room. Fear gnawed at the edges of your mind as you considered the possibilities of what could have happened to her.

Refusing to give in to despair, you resolved to search the other rooms, hoping against hope that you would find her unharmed. With each step, your heart hammered in your chest, the tension mounting with every passing moment.

You checked each room meticulously, your breath catching in your throat with each empty space you encountered. Pushing open the last closed door in the hallway, you froze on the spot. Your eyes had instantly fallen on the shattered window, shards of glass lying scattered around the floor next to Astoria’s body, lying lifeless with blank eyes staring into the darkness.

A scream rose in your throat, but before the sound could escape your lips, a shadow darted out from behind you, swift and silent as they jumped on you, pushing you to your knees. Strong arms wrapped around your throat, cutting off any sound you tried to make as panic seized you in its icy grip.

Your hands flew to your assailant's arms, clawing desperately as you fought for breath. The pressure on your windpipe intensified, a cruel vice squeezing tighter with each passing second. Stars danced at the edges of your vision, your lungs burning for air as darkness threatened to engulf you.

With a surge of adrenaline, you summoned every ounce of strength within you, drawing upon reserves you never knew you had. Your fingers fumbled blindly along the ground, seeking anything, anything that could be used as a weapon to help you break free from the suffocating grip.

And then, your hand closed around a sharp shard of glass, its jagged edges biting into your skin. With as much force as you could muster up, you lashed out, driving the makeshift weapon into your attacker's side.

A guttural cry tore from their lips as they released their hold on you, stumbling backwards in pain and shock. Gasping for precious air, you scrambled to your feet, your heart thundering in your chest as you faced your assailant head-on.

Their eyes burned with a feral intensity, glinting through he slits of their mask. Blood oozed from the wound in their side, staining their clothes crimson as they bared their teeth in a snarl of rage and defiance.

Without hesitation, they lunged towards you once more, their movements swift and calculated. Adrenaline surged through your veins as you dodged their attack, narrowly avoiding their grasp as you danced out of reach.

But they were relentless, their determination unwavering as they pursued you with single-minded focus. With each passing moment, the fight grew more frenzied.

In a moment of desperation, you seized upon the element of surprise, ducking beneath their outstretched arm and delivering a powerful blow to their midsection. They staggered backwards, momentarily off balance, giving you the opportunity you needed.

With a primal roar, you launched yourself at them, driving them towards the shattered window with all your might. Their eyes widened in shock as they realized your intent, but it was too late. With one final shove, you sent them hurtling through the open window, the sharp remnants of glass scratching along their back as their scream echoed into the night and they fell into the darkness below. They hit the ground with a devastating thud, their mask now crooked on their face and their neck at a nauseating angle as their movement seized and they stilled.

Panting heavily, you stumbled back from the window, your body trembling with adrenaline and exertion. The rush of victory was short-lived, however, as the gravity of what had just transpired washed over you. Were they dead? Did you just kill someone?

Just as the panic started washing over you, your eyes fell on the other body in the room. With something else to focus on, you willed the tears in your eyes to disappear and your lungs to take in air again. Dropping by Astoria’s side, you immediately went to check for a pulse, a sob tumbling from your throat at the lack of a heartbeat.

As the reality of Astoria's lifeless form sank in, grief washed over you like a tidal wave, threatening to drown you in its depths. Tears blurred your vision as you reached out to touch her cold skin, willing her to wake up, to tell you that everything was going to be alright.

But there was no response, no sign of life in her still form. With a shaky breath, you pulled yourself away from her side, your heart heavy with sorrow and regret. You had failed to protect her, failed to keep her safe from the horrors that had befallen you all.

But there was no time to dwell on your guilt, no time to mourn the loss of a friend. With a heavy heart, you pushed yourself to your feet, steeling yourself for the task that lay ahead. There were still others in the lodge who needed your help.

Turning away from her, you hurried back towards the staircase, intent on alerting the others to the danger that now lurked within the lodge. But as you reached the top of the stairs, you froze in your tracks, the sound of sobs and commotion drifting up from below.

Fear clenched at your heart as you realized that not just one of the killers had made their way into the lodge. With a sense of dread gnawing at your insides, you raced down the stairs, your mind racing with thoughts of what horrors awaited you below.

As you rushed down the stairs, your heart pounding with fear and determination, Theo met you halfway, his eyes wide with worry as he searched for you. Without a moment's hesitation, you relayed the heartbreaking news of Astoria's demise to him, the weight of the loss heavy in your voice.

Theo's expression hardened with resolve as he took in your words, and without a second thought, the two of you sprang into action, ready to confront the remaining killers that had made it inside. The air crackled with tension as you both braced yourselves.

As you and Theo descended upon the killers, a fierce determination burning in your eyes, a chaotic fight scene unfolded. The lodge's corridors became a battleground, the clash of metal against wod, fists against skin and the cries of combat ringing out through the once-peaceful halls.

Theo fought with a skill and ferocity that surprised even you, his every move calculated and precise as he defended himself and fought back against the attackers. You, too, tapped into a wellspring of strength and courage you never knew you possessed, each strike a testament to your determination to protect yourself and those still alive in the lodge.

In the midst of the chaos, Theo managed to disarm one of the attackers, seizing their weapon and turning it against them. With a swift and decisive blow, he incapacitated them, the sound of their body hitting the floor echoing through the lodge. His face frozen in a grimace as he stood over them, watching the pool of red beneath them growing in size because of his doing.

Your focus was torn from the frey momentarily as you took note of Blaise clutching his side where blood seeped through his fingers, while Mattheo staggered back, a gash across his arm leaving him wincing in pain.

One of the attackers used this moment of distraction, lunging towards you with a gleaming blade. With a gasp of horror, you stumbled backward, your heart racing with fear. But before the fatal blow could land, Luna sprang into action, throwing herself between you and your assailant with fearless determination, baseball bat raised. With a swift movement, she deflected the attacker's strike, the blade flying out of their grasp and to the floor.

Luna unleashed a flurry of blows upon the attacker, her movements swift and merciless. Each strike from her baseball bat landed with precision, sending shockwaves of pain through the assailant's body. With each swing of her weapon, she drove the attacker back, finally landing a final blow to their head as they turned to escape, making them crumble to the floor.

The assailant, now on the defensive, tried desperately to evade Luna's barrage of attacks, but she was relentless, her resolve unshakeable. With a fierce battle cry, she pressed forward, her eyes blazing with determination as she closed in on her target.

With a final, powerful blow, Luna delivered a devastating strike to the attacker's midsection, sending them crashing to the ground with a cry of pain. Disarmed and defeated, they lay sprawled on the floor, their mask askew and their breath coming in ragged gasps.

Breathing heavily, Luna stood over her fallen adversary as they lay sprawled on the floor with their mask askew, her chest heaving with exertion.

Meanwhile, Enzo engaged in a brutal hand-to-hand combat with another assailant, their blows landing with bone-crunching force as they grappled for dominance. With a burst of adrenaline-fueled strength, Enzo delivered a decisive strike, sending his opponent reeling backward with a cry of pain, the back of their head hitting the edge of a table with a thundering crack before they sunk to the floor, all movement gone from their body.

As the chaos subsided, the masked figures all lying lifeless around the room, Theo and Enzo quickly sprang into action, pulling their bodies into another room to clear the main area of the lodge. Meanwhile, you, Luna, and Pansy carefully carried Astoria's body downstairs, where Daphne stood in shock before throwing her arms around her body, refusing to let go of her sister.

Tears streamed down Daphne's face as she clung to Astoria, her grief palpable in the silence of the lodge. Luna, her eyes brimming with compassion, gently placed a hand on Daphne's shoulder, offering her comfort and support in this moment of unimaginable loss.

You and Pansy then instructed Mattheo and Enzo to sit down, helping them clean up and bandage their wounds, while Theo and Blaise went to retrieve the still unconscious Draco from upstairs.

After everything was taken care of, the group sat in stunned silence, some sobbing softly as they grappled with the enormity of what had just transpired.

As the hours dragged on, the darkness outside slowly gave way to the light of dawn, casting a pale glow through the windows of the lodge. As the weight of the night's events settled heavily upon you, you found yourself seeking solace in Theo's arms. With a heaviness in your heart and a weariness in your bones, you nestled into his embrace, seeking comfort and reassurance.

Theo held you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you as you huddled together in a corner of the room. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, offering a small measure of comfort in the face of overwhelming grief.

Silently, you clung to each other, drawing strength from the simple act of being together. Words seemed inadequate in the wake of such tragedy, and so you remained locked in a wordless embrace, finding solace in the shared silence between you.

With each passing moment, the tension in your body began to ease, replaced by a sense of peace that settled over you like a blanket. In Theo's arms, you felt safe and secure, shielded from the horrors. You stayed there, wrapped up in his arms with his lips pressed to the top of your head, until finally, you could see the flashing red and blue lights approaching outside as the first rays of sunlight filtered into the room.

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[roosterbruiser]

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐃. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟖.𝟓𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 —𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐒, 𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟐𝐍𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

“Whose is it, birdie?” Bradley asks, eyes wide. "It's all over--whose blood is that?"

He hasn’t moved his hands from your warm and sticky face--he’s still cupping your cheeks, face contorted in anguish as his eyes pour into yours. 

You drop the ax and the shotgun on the ground--they make a dull thump, one you can feel in the soles of your feet and in your pulsing head. There’s a lump in your throat so obstructive, so thick and overwhelming, that you can’t speak. 

All you can do, as Rooster looks down at you while the swallows begin to swoop from roof to roof and the irises emit their sweet scent, is cry.

How can you explain to Rooster, who’s held it together this entire time, that you can’t hold it together right now because of what you just witnessed? How are you going to explain to him that you had the person cornered--that you could’ve shot him--and you didn’t because Paul needed help? And even then, even when you abandoned your firing position to help Paul, it was all fruitless because Paul is dead and his body is in the woods all on its lonesome. 

“Birdie,” Rooster mutters. He smooths a hand through your hair, dirty with lake water and leaves and blood, and shakes his head softly. “Who’s bleeding?” 

“Paul,” you finally choke, shaking your head. He thumbs your tears, but it’s for naught. “It--it was Paul’s.” 

It was Paul’s. 

Rooster looks you up and down--the blood is all over you. Up to your ankles and covering your shoes, all over your shins, dried up your legs, staining your poor dungarees again. 

“Oh, baby,” he whispers to you. His bottom lip trembles. “Is he…?” 

You nod--just barely. 

Rooster doesn’t ask any more questions. 

You think, suddenly and very clearly, that you’re not sure how much fight you have left in you. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep doing this. 

Mable was right. There is no way out. You will bathe in your own blood and be torn limb by limb as the depths of Hell calls for you. There is no way out. 

If you let go, if you give in, if you wait to die--then what will happen? Everyone else will die. No one else is as good a shot as you. No one else is willing to trek through the woods. No one else can suture a gash or staunch a wound or cauterize a limb.

So, you have to push forward. It’s a decision that is made with haste.Very swiftly, you realize you’re not going to lose your head now. You’re not going to break down again. You’re gonna keep going--you have to keep going. 

“He…he said he’s back,” you whisper to Rooster, wiping your own cheeks now. “He said…he told me to--to run away. I didn’t think he was--I didn’t listen to him. He said that he’s back--he’s back, he’s back. I don’t know what he…”

You don’t rest your head on Rooster’s chest and you don’t lessen the burden of that lump in your throat. You’re in shock, you know--which is why the tears running down your face are involuntary.

“Who?” Rooster presses, eyebrows furrowed. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper. Your head is spinning. “I don’t know.” 

Only a moment before Rooster is going to pull you to him, only a moment before you’re going to ask him if he found anything in the woods, the walkie deep in your pocket comes to life. 

“Gale!” Phoenix sobs through it. “Gale! Are you there? Oh, God--Gale, please!” 

Scrambling to grab the walkie, Rooster leans down and takes the ax in his hands. It’s with his heart in a cold, cold puddle that he sees that it’s the ax from the mess hall. D.G. He says nothing to you, just holds onto the handle tight. 

“I’m--I’m here,” you answer Phoenix, shuffling to grab the shotgun. You start for the bus barn, wiping your face clean of tears. 

“It--it’s Bob,” Phoenix sobs. “I think he’s--I think he’s--!” 

“I’m coming,” you tell her. “I’m coming.” 

Phoenix, who’s trying desperately to blot the cold sweat from Bob’s face as Coyote sends all the children to the back of the bus, doesn’t feel relieved by your answer. She thought she would--if not to just know that you’re alive then simply because she won’t have to be alone with Bob anymore. Help will be on the way. Bob will be okay. 

“I’m so--fuck, I’m so cold,” Bob whispers to her, lips quivering. “Can you start the fire?”

Phoenix’s tongue is dry. 

“Bob, we’re on the bus,” she says, voice thin and flat. “There’s no fireplace.”

He’s confused. He’s been confused for a few hours now. Phoenix knows this is the infection--that it must be spreading. But still, she desperately runs her palms up and down his arms to try and get some friction. This cold that Bob feels, though--it’s not one she can fix. It’s not even one a fire could fix. 

She pulls the walkie to her mouth again, breathing heavily. 

“Gale, quick! Please!” 

“I’m on my way,” you say back. 

You don’t say I’m going as fast as I can, but I’m so tired. I’m so scared. I want to give up. I’m only coming because it’s you and it’s Bob and it’s Coyote and the campers. But that’s it, that’s all. I want to lie down. But it’s what you’re thinking. 

And you’re by yourself suddenly as Rooster falls behind you, taking a glance at the perimeter of camp just in case Jake shows his face. He doesn’t fall in step with you again--he’s going to stay out here and guard. You think maybe it’s because Bradley isn’t brave enough to see it up close--Bob hurt, infected, writhing. 

And, really, you don’t blame him. 

You’d rather be anywhere else. 

The sun is warm on your back. The blood is itchy on your skin. You’re running as fast you can, limping with tired, your temples throbbing. Your heart thumps in your ears.

At any moment, an ax could come whizzing out from the woods. There could be a hiding place just yonder, far enough away that you never see it coming. You could hear its noise, fast and sharp like a whip, and then that could be the end. An ax to the head, to the back, to the legs, and you’re down. A peculiar sensation prickles your spine, torments the swollen muscles in your legs and arms: you could die at any moment. Right here, at Camp Arcadia, on the gravel just outside the bus barn. No one could do a thing about it either. 

Oh, God, you think. Where are you?

When you step onto the bus, you know. 

It is quiet--so very quiet. No one knows what to say to a dying man and that is what Bob is. None of the campers are whispering and none of the counselors are rustling. Phoenix is sitting in the front seat with Bob over her lap, sobbing as Bob blinks up at her, only barely conscious. Coyote is kneeled beside them, his lip being sawed in half by his own teeth as he tries to keep from crying. 

The smell comes first--that distinct perfume, so familiar and pungent with musk. It’s the rot, you know. It’s the body shutting down, the organs giving in, the skin infected. But to you, it just smells like death. The two of you are thick as thieves. 

And then, when you look at Bob and everyone else looks at you to save the day, saliva gathers underneath your tongue and your lashes begin to quiver. Pennies settle beneath your tongue. 

“I’m here,” you whisper, your throat burning. “I’m here now.” 

Phoenix doesn’t understand why you’re not rushing to Bob’s aid. She doesn’t understand why you’re not suturing or cleaning or wrapping or whatever else the fuck you’re suppoosed to do to save him. You should be ordering everyone around, saving Bob. You should be stony right now--but your face is soft and wet.

“Help him,” she cries. “Get over here--help him! Help him, he’s dying!”

Coyote knows when he looks at you. The sun is just barely puncturing the bus barn, just barely lighting the side of your face. You’re covered in blood, limply holding the shotgun, looking down at Bob with an agonized sense of forbearance. You cannot save him. Nobody can--he is too far gone. Coyote bows his head and that is when the tears come.

“Phe,” Coyote whispers. He sets a hand on her elbow. She jerks away from him, looking at him as if he’s just burned her. Her eyes are wild with grief. “Phe, there’s nothing--!” 

“--Fuck you,” Phoenix spits at Coyote, her face split in half by anguish. She’s never felt this way before--she’s never felt this mind-splitting, chest-numbing pain. But it’s suddenly drowning her and she feels that no one is throwing her a life preserver. You’re all watching her flounder. “Please…please…” 

Slowly, you kneel beside Coyote. Everything smells like sweat and dust, but this close to Bob, you are practically rubbing noses with death. You can see the freckles on its cheeks. 

You carefully place your hand on Bob’s leg. He looks down at you, pale as white-sand and shaking. Cold sweat covers his face, stains his shirt. His eyes are focused, but untrained. 

“Bob,” you whisper. “We’re here.”

That’s about all you can say to him. Not just hold on, we’ll fix you up. Not only another minute, it’s okay, it’s alright. Not help is on the way. You’re going to make it.

He’s so cold--so, so cold. And he’s been cold since he went out into the night, since he was struck. He’s known, from the very beginning, that he’s dying. He just didn’t know how to tell anyone else. And he knew everyone else was too afraid to tell him. 

 But when you say that--we’re here--something grows warm in Bob. He’s been in and out of fitful dreams, sometimes dreaming about his father’s fingers on the strings of a guitar and sometimes dreaming about his less than stellar date with Michelle Johnson. It’s peculiar--he never thought dying would be so slow, so tedious. 

“Payback and Fanboy haven’t walkied,” Coyote whispers to you. The only recognition you show is a slow blink. “Maybe they’re close.” 

“Maybe,” you whisper back.

The both of you know that it wouldn’t matter, anyhow. By the time the tree is moved, by the time the brigade is here if they’re coming, Bob will be gone.  

Reaching up, you take Phoenix’s hand. She looks at you, brown eyes wide with horror, and almost pulls away. But then Bob, with the last bit of his strength, puts his hand over hers, too. 

“Thank you,” he tells Phoenix. She looks down at him, shaking her head with her eyes wide. He doesn’t break their gaze, lips trembling. “You’re my best friend.” 

“Stop that,” Phoenix demands softly. “Cut it out, Bob! You’re fine!” 

“I’m dying,” he whispers. He swallows hard. His throat is so very dry. “I didn’t know how to…how to tell you.” 

Phoenix sobs. 

“No,” she whispers. She blinks hard, shaking her head. “Bob, I can’t--please, please, please…” 

Leaning down, she holds Bob’s body against hers. He blinks a few times, the sunlight coming over his face just barely. It’s good to feel warm, he thinks. 

“I know…I know you hate Cutting Crew,” Bob starts. With the last bit of his strength, he smiles. It’s a barely-there, strained thing. But it’s there. “But they wrote our song, huh?” 

It takes a moment for everyone to register what Bob’s saying. For a second, you think he’s delirious. But then Coyote chokes out a loud laugh, a few stray tears running down his face. 

Phoenix looks up, puzzled, and then it dawns on her. 

(I Just) Died In Your Arms. Cutting Crew. She groans every time it comes on the radio just before tuning to another station. She’s literally left coffee shops over the song. Bob knows this. But now it’s the song that will make her think of Bob because he’s willed it so. It’s the song that will remind her of this exact instance--sitting on the bus, terrified, dirty, holding her best friend as he dies. 

“Bob,” Coyote laughs. He’s about to say that he’s a sly, sly dog. That he’s got the jokes. But just the sound of his name falling off his lips is enough to halt Coyote. That is the last time he will ever call Bob’s name and have Bob answer to it. “I…I love you, man.” 

Bob smiles. 

“I love you, too, man,” Bob whispers. “Don’t tell Phoenix.” 

And then Bob is looking at you. You with your eyes heavy with tears and your face a calm and placid sea. He doesn’t know how you’ve done it--he doesn’t know how you haven’t given up yet. But he knows that he loves you for it. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to Bob, tears pouring down your face. You sniffle and sigh. “I’m really, really sorry Bob. More sorry than I’ve ever been.”

He knows what you’re apologizing for: not saving him. 

“No hard feelings,” he whispers to you. Another meek smile tugs on his lips. “You did good.”

You did good. 

Choking on your grief, you can hardly stand to look at him anymore. You can hardly stand kneeling here, breathing in all this death. But you know this is where you’re supposed to be. 

Just as Phoenix is about to sob again, a meager voice finds place in the stale air around everyone. 

“Can I pray for you, Mister Bob?” Mable asks softly. There are tears in her eyes as she blinks at everyone. “If that’s okay…”

You glance at Phoenix, who looks like she never wants to see Mable Brandt’s face ever again in her long, long life without Bob. Bob was born Godless and will die Godless. But then Bob is nodding. 

“That’d be swell, kid,” he whispers. A shuddering breath falls from his lips. “Make it out to Bob Dylan, would ya?” 

Mable sniffles. She rests her hands on your shoulders because you, out of everyone here, are the only one that can hold her up. And you let her hold you--even close your eyes and feel the heat of her body against you and fall into a dreamless, sleepless state. 

“Dear Heavenly Dylan,” Mable starts. Bob lets out a quiet laugh--a weezy, tired thing. It is the last time he will ever laugh. “Please take Mister Bob’s pain away--he’s been in an awful lot of it since the attack and I think he’s tired now. He’s a real nice guy--he never yelled at me or anyone else. I don’t think it’s very fair that he’s got so many boo-boo’s.”

No one speaks as Mable continues praying, everyone’s head slightly bowed and eyes drifted shut. Everyone’s face is wet with tears that are shining in the yellow light. 

“And we know that you’ll have a place for him when he gets to where he’s going, alright? So, make sure it’s nice and clean. And make sure there’s aspirin there because Mister Bob doesn’t feel so hot right now. But most of all--keep him safe on his way. Miss Nightingale and Miss Phoenix did the best they could. It’s your turn now.” 

An overwhelming sense of peace finds Bob. His fingers are numb--he wonders, strangely, if they’re already dead. Maybe when you die, it’s piece by piece, a little at a time. And maybe his fingers went first.

“I’m scared,” Phoenix whispers to Bob, looking down at his pale cheeks. “I can’t…I can’t never see you again.”  

He takes a deep breath. His lungs are warm, very warm. 

“I’ve been here the whole time,” he whispers to her. “You’ll manage.”

He’s accepted this. This is okay. He is looking up at his best friend in the world and it is the last thing his eyes will ever see. And he thinks, with a sudden swell of pride, that he did good. She’s really the cream of the crop--the best friend he could have asked for.

Something flickers behind his eyes, bright yellow and aquamarine and jet black--memories. They flutter past his vision, clear and crisp, like he’s pulling the little plastic lever on a viewfinder of his own life. 

The smell of his mama’s hotcakes on late Sunday mornings, Bob sleepy and syrupy and reaching for more butter despite his mother’s tutting. Lazing around the pool with his kid brother, Neil Young humming on the radio as his daddy grills. Sitting in the movie theater during Star Wars, too engrossed in the movie to realize that Lisa Patterson is making googly eyes at him. Finally kissing Michelle Johnson at the roller rink, her tight curls gleaming beneath the disco ball, her skin shining blue and pink. Reading Kurt Vonnegut in his car before class, holding in tears when the profoundness struck him over the head like a brick. Holding hands with Phoenix during games of Red Rover, their mouths wide open, their hairlines dotted with sweat. Swimming in the lake after tipsy bonfires, bobbing his head beneath the water, listening to the muted sound of you squealing when Jake pulls you up on his shoulders. His toes in cold, cold mud. His face against the warm, warm sun. The first snow of the year blanketing the front lawn. His dorm room, which always smells like crayons for some reason. His best friends pedaling down the street, swerving at cars and whooping and hollering, switching gears up the big hill on Freemont. His daddy taking his mama’s hands and dancing her around the wrapping-paper covered living room, her new necklace gleaming on her throat like a personal star on a silver chain. Holding his baby cousin for the first time, breath caught in his throat and arms stiff because he’s never held anything so tiny. Cutting his knees on concrete. Hitting his head on that shelf in the living room. Learning how to change a tire. Driving down his street for the first time. Playing his guitar in his room, shutting his eyes, and quietly whispering Bob Dylan songs.

He can hear it now--Bob Dylan is playing. And it isn’t him singing and it isn’t him playing the guitar. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from or why it’s so loud, so clear, so sudden. But there it is--clear as the day is blue. It’s like there’s a private concert just for Bob and he’s in the front row, the sun warm on his face and shoulders, his arms raised in ecstasy. 

That long black cloud is comin' down

I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door

He always wanted to be front row at a Bob Dylan concert. He was saving up to take him and Phoenix. 

Funny how life works that way, he thinks. 

Oh, well. So it goes.

“Please, if you could make it easy, we would all really appreciate it. And in Bob Dylan’s name we pray…amen.”  

And then, with a final shuddering breath, Bob Floyd dies in his best friend’s arms on a disjunct bus on the worst Thursday of anyone’s life. He was the newest counselor at Camp Arcadia. This was only his second summer. 

“Bob?” Phoenix asks. Panic shoots up and grabs onto her ears, tugging hard. His lips are parted, his eyes are open. He is not moving. “Bob! Wake up! Wake the fuck up!” 

Mable leans down to your ear. You’re so thoroughly covered in blood that you look like something that crawled out of a horror film--she can make out the tracks of your tears as the salt cuts through the gore on your cheeks. It’s an image that will stay with her for the rest of her life, one she’ll doodle inside book covers and on the backs of restaurant napkins. She’s so young now that when she’s older, she’ll wonder if her juvenile mind was exaggerating just how gory you look. But it is not an exaggeration at all. 

“You have to fight it,” she whispers in your ear. Her cut begins to bleed. “It’s here.”

When you look up, your eyes fluttering open again after seemingly being pasted shut, you see another dead body. Your second this morning. There is less blood and more sunlight, but it is still there right before you. 

As if a mortar has suddenly gone off beside your cheek, your ears are hollowed out and ringing. You can see Phoenix screaming, can see her patting Bob’s cheeks, but you can’t hear her shrill tone or the lifeless thumps on his skin. Coyote touches your shoulder and you think maybe he’s saying something to you, but you don’t look at him. 

Vision beginning to vignette, you stand slowly. And then you turn and walk all the way off the bus, the blood on your shoes matted with dirt and grime. You take a few stumbling steps, the gun clenched tightly in your hands. Then you open the doors, let the sunlight in. If someone was running full-speed at you, intent on cutting you down, you wouldn’t hear it. And you think you wouldn’t fight it either. 

The only way you know you’re on the ground is when the gravel slices your knees open. It is not from brute strength that you have fallen--no one has hit you. It is because you are drained. Entirely, completely, wholly drained. 

Bradley finds you only a few moments later. 

You’re on your hands and knees just outside the bus barn, clutching the gravel with the gun laid out just beside you. Your back bows, curved like the neck of a preening swan, and you suddenly heave. Vomit spews across the rocks--all stomach acid. 

Oh, he realizes. Bob’s dead. 

He stops where he is, only a few paces from you, and watches all of your humanness from afar. Surely you’ve seen dead bodies before in your line of work--in fact, he knows you have--but maybe you’ve never seen it this close. And it has never, ever been a friend. That must be what’s different about this one, he thinks. That’s it. That must be it. 

And then he watches you stop. You suddenly swallow hard and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, eyebrows furrowed and lips trembling. Then you fight to your feet, wobbling and quivering, leaning over once more to grab the gun and hold it to your body. 

As if you knew he was there the entire time, you look at Bradley. He can see it from where he is, dazed and heartbroken and lovesick: there is fight in your eyes. It is dim, it is full, it is small, it is hazy--but it’s there, gleaming in the early morning light.

You have to fight it. It’s here. 

“We have to find him,” you tell Bradley. Your voice is ragged and thin. You swallow hard, shaking your head. “No one else is dying today, alright?” 

Bradley nods at you, dumbfounded and grief-stricken. His throat is tight. 

“Alright,” he answers. He takes a deep breath, fills his lungs.“Birdie, I…I think I might have an idea.” 

♀

“What do you mean?” Coyote asks. “You two are gonna just…play music? And get him to come? Like…a dog or something?” 

“So he knows where we are,” Bradley defends, his voice hard and serious. “We’re not, like, whistling for him.” 

“And you think that’ll make him come?” Coyote asks, brow perched. 

He glances at you. You’re not looking at him. 

“He’ll come. He’ll come if he knows Gale’s there.” 

Coyote opens his mouth to argue, but then you quietly add, “What other option do we have? I can’t…I’m not strong enough to go back out in the woods.”

“I could go,” Coyote offers. 

You shake your head.

“I’m the good shot,” you whisper. And all that responsibility weighs down on you again. “It would have to be me. And you’re hurt.”

Coyote knows you’re right. He carefully touches the back of his head, wincing when the gash stings beneath his fingers.

Phoenix’s eyes are on the floor. Her throat hurts too bad to say anything. She won’t look up at you and Bradley as you stand outside the bus with Coyote, relaying the plan. 

“And when he--if he comes, then what?” Coyote asks. He swallows hard, his head pulsing. “You’re gonna…?” 

“Wait. For help,” you whisper. 

Coyote looks at your face--still covered in blood, but stained with a detached sort of anger. You’re resolute and morose all wrapped up in bloody dungarees. 

“Back to square one, then, huh?” He asks softly. 

“What’s the alternative?” Bradley counters. “Killing him?” 

“No one else is dying today,” you say matter-of-factly. You look at the two men, who are looking at you already with their mouths flat and their chests heaving. “I mean it, alright? No one else.” 

“Alright,” Coyote answers. “So, Phoenix and I should just hang around? Wait?” 

You nod. Coyote shudders at the thought of just waiting. 

“We’ll come get you when it’s…” you start, trailing off with your brows furrowed. 

“Over. We’ll come get you when it’s over,” Bradley answers. “Don’t open the doors for anyone but us, okay?” 

“Yeah,” Coyote answers. He takes a long, deep breath. His head hurts. “Okay. Are you sure you don’t want me to help? Strength in numbers, right?” 

You glance at Phoenix. She’s still holding Bob. Though now that the tears have stopped, she’s completely quiet. You fear, suddenly and completely, that she’ll never speak again. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Stay here with her.” 

Glancing up at the bus, you see all the campers already looking at you. Knives in their little hands, fear in their little teary eyes. Their faces are almost begging, you think. 

Fight it. Fight it. Fight it. 

Toes numb with panic, you look back at Coyote. He’s already looking at you. 

“Don’t let anyone in,” you say again. You think of last night when something tried to get into the mess hall--just how close they came. “And if they do get in…corner them. Get them.”

Coyote nods firmly. You can count on him. He can count on you. The two of you have never bullshitted each other before. 

“I will,” he says. “I’ll die fighting if I have to. No one’s touching those kids.” 

Die fighting. How silly that phrase seemed before, when you’d throw it around at random. And now there’s two dead bodies and three missing counselors at Camp Arcadia. You hope you don’t die fighting like Paul, like Bob. But it would be a valiant way to go. 

“Let’s go,” Bradley says, throwing an arm around your shoulders. You’re rigid underneath his hands--it stains him, wounds him. But he doesn’t punish you for it. How could he? “We’ll be right back.” 

Coyote swallows hard. His heart is pounding. 

“Don’t say that,” Coyote pleads. “Haven’t you ever seen a horror movie? Ever?” 

“This is real life,” Bradley argues. “Not some story.” 

But it was a story--before, at the bonfire. 

Damien and the Devil. Six counselors, one nurse. Slashed. Dead, gone, buried, away. 

Saying nothing more, you turn on your heel. 

It’s time to end this.

The walk back to the mess hall is very quiet. Underneath the bright yellow sun and the clear blue sky, you and Bradley say almost nothing to each other. You’re holding the gun, trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest. He’s holding the ax, the one that killed Paul, and the other one he took into the woods with him. He’s glancing around the perimeter to make sure nothing’s sneaking up on the two of you. 

You’re stumbling slightly when you step--Bradley isn’t sure if it’s because you’re tired or if it’s because of the gashes on your knees or if it’s because of your shock. He does know you’re in shock--that you’ve been in shock since you tumbled out of the woods covered in Paul’s blood. You look shell-shocked, but brave. Like you know the bomb is about to drop, but you’re ready to arm yourself against whatever’s coming even if it’s for naught. Do svidaniya.

Ears still ringing, stomach still churning, you feel like the walk is too quick. Suddenly you aren't outside anymore--you’re in the mess hall in all its disarray, walking towards the kitchen with the intent of grabbing more ammunition. 

Bradley’s closing the buckshot-broken doors, brows furrowed as he examines the shots. Shit. You really did it. Something in his belly feels better knowing that you’ll shoot. You’ll pull the trigger. 

As soon as you’re through the kitchen doors, your heart stops. There on the dingy tiles is what remains of Bob’s blood--it’s smeared, dried, browned. But you can still see where he laid. And just beside the bucket, which is still full of bloody water, are Bob’s broken glasses. 

Leaning down, legs shaking, you pick the glasses up and hold them up to your face. They’re broken--the glass is cracked and the frames are bent. 

But it’s okay. He doesn’t need them anymore. 

“Oh, Bob,” you whisper. You grip the glasses hard. Tipping your head forward, you let the metal fall against your closed mouth. A sob ripples through you. “I’m so sorry.”

“Gale?” Rooster calls. He turns--sees your form frozen in the doorway, kneeling with your head bent. Starting for you, he swallows hard. “Birdie?” 

His presence behind you is warm and solid, like standing against a water heater. His chest just barely grazes your back. It brings you back a little bit--his steady and even breaths. You can count them--you can count on them. They’re there, steady, as you look down at Bob’s glasses. 

Rooster, his jaw squared, sighs gently. 

He tugs under your armpits until you’re standing on your feet again.

“Are you…are you, like, alright?” 

Dumb question, he thinks. Jesus. Dumb, dumb question.

Shaking your head, you let your eyes fall shut. 

“I’m numb,” you whisper. “I can’t…I don’t think I can…I can’t feel anything at all.”

A pang of pain radiates in Rooster’s chest. You’re so quiet, so drawn into yourself. Maybe this is your surrender. Maybe this is when you give up. Maybe this is when you call it a day and lay down and just wait for the end to come. Rooster can’t have that.

“Can you feel this?” Rooster asks. 

And you’re about to crane your neck to look at him, about to ask him what he’s doing, when the very softest of kisses lands just below your left ear. 

Oh. You can feel that. His warm lips, full of blood and live cells and made up of skin, send a shiver down your spine. 

“Yes,” you mutter. “I can.” 

Another kiss--this time in the middle of your neck. Rooster can still faintly smell jasmine on your skin. It makes him ache all over. 

“That?” He whispers. 

You nod, choked up. 

And then he’s very carefully brushing your hair off your shoulders, pushing it aside so he can see your throat and the curve of your jaw. It’s covered in blood, flaking off whenever it’s disturbed. He doesn’t care.

He kisses a trail down the back of your neck, his own eyes fluttered shut in just a moment of peace. And your body is growing softer beneath him--so soft that when he reaches around and pulls the gun from your hands, you don’t fight it. You just let your head fall to the side, eyes flickering shut. 

His palms splay on your hips. He holds you tight, pulls you until your back is flush against his chest. And your mind is buzzing and your body is growing warmer and warmer, but you cannot deny the pleasure of this encounter. This is the most human you’ve felt since all of this began, since you jumped out of bed naked when Phoenix came into your cabin. 

And even though you’re suddenly crying, even though you’re gripping his hands, you know that you need this to keep moving forward. You cannot fight if you feel like there’s nothing left to fight for--maybe the faces of the campers, stained with fear, aren’t enough for you. Maybe seeing Phoenix holding Bob still isn’t enough for you. Maybe you need this--to be touched and held. To be reminded that you can feel still. To be reminded that when this is over, there will be life to live and sex to have and jobs to hate and cars to drive and stars to gaze upon. 

This, right here, is proof of that. 

“Hold me,” you whisper, suddenly desperate. “Hold me, please.” 

You cannot remember the last time you asked someone to hold you. Rigidity sometimes feels like your natural state. Steeling yourself against death, against blood and hurt and pain. And now you’re so soft as Rooster wraps his arms around you. 

He holds you so tight that all the air leaves your lungs. 

You’re stuck still, breath stilted, lungs empty. 

Yes, you think. This is how tightly I need to be held. 

Rooster buries his nose in your neck. He can feel the tears dripping down your cheeks as they land in his hair and he only holds you tighter. He can feel that he’s squeezing the life out of you, but for some reason, he knows you want it like that. 

“I’ve got you,” he mutters to you. “I won’t let you go.”

But just as quickly as you found comfort in his arms, in his heat, against his pumping heart and hot skin, you become uneasy. It’s the thought of seeing his dead body, it’s him calling you hysterical, it’s the spit flinging out of his mouth as he called Jake the killer, it’s his naked body you left behind to find Bob. 

All of it comes at once, slaps your face until your cheeks are raw.

Wriggling your way out of his grip, you take a half-step away from him and grab the shotgun again. Rooster, slightly stunned, watches you with his mouth ajar. 

“Set the music up,” you whisper. You sniffle. “I’m gonna reload and…and get in position.” 

Jake’s trudging back towards camp, openly weeping. He hasn’t openly wept since his toddlerhood, he thinks. But he is right now: shoulders shaking, spine curving, snot dripping, tears pouring open-mouthed weeping. There’s bile covering the front of his shirt and blood on his hands, which is why he won’t look down, which is why he’s stumbling.

He’s been walking all night long--ducking behind trees, stumbling over jagged roots. He’s so tired that his bones feel brittle. He’s so thoroughly exhausted that he’s stumbling towards the mess hall now, even though he knows it’s a trap, even though he knows this might be his final location. 

Kate Bush is playing over the loudspeaker--it was loud enough for him to hear where he was just before in a puddle of blood, vomiting and swatting away swarming flies. Through his heaving, through his tears, he knew immediately that he had to go to where you were calling him from.  

Do you wanna feel how it feels? 

You must be there. You must be the one calling out to him. He wonders if maybe it’s a call for help. But no--it must be a trap. Maybe Bradley swayed you. Maybe everyone swayed you. Maybe you want him dead. Maybe, as soon as his feet cross the threshold, you’re going to shoot him in the chest. He wouldn’t be angry with you. But, boy--would he miss you if he died. 

But all he wants, as his stuttering footsteps grow nearer and nearer to the mess hall, is to keep you safe. And if you’re with him--if you’re even near him--you aren’t safe. 

Limping, he approaches the doors to the mess hall. They’re closed, but damaged. You already shot through them, Jake sees. And there’s blood dotting the doors--so much of it that he knows you must’ve really got ‘em. 

Atta girl, he thinks. 

“Jake?” Your voice comes from inside, echoing in the empty mess hall. “Is that…is that you?” 

Instead of answering, he opens the door. 

You

It's you and me

And there you are. Standing a few paces ahead of him, holding the shotgun like you’ve held it a million times before, eyes narrowed and focused on him. You’re covered in blood, even your heavy eyelids, and sniffling as you cry quietly. But even through your tears, you’re strong. He can see the fight still tugging on the ends of your hair and straining in your wobbling thighs. 

Bradley is just behind you, armed with an ax, sneering at Jake. 

“Don’t you come any closer,” Bradley demands. He rears back so the ax is in position to swing down at any given moment. “I mean it, you fuck!” 

Jake stumbles slightly as he steps into the mess hall. 

“Jake,” you whisper, shaking your head. Your throat aches with grief. “Where have you been?” 

I'd make a deal with God

And I'd get Him to swap our places

It all comes rushing back to him, a wave of grief and exhaustion and derangement. Taking a shuddering breath, he tries to communicate with you, his words coming out like a fluttering and distant bird that flies right over your head.

“Get away from him,” he whispers. 

You furrow your brows, straining to hear him over Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God).

“He’s got a weapon,” Bradley whispers to you. His heart is pounding. “Gale, he’s got an ax.” 

Fingers numb with panic, with pain, you shake your head at Jake.

You don't wanna hurt me (yeah, yeah, yo)

“Where did you get that?” You demand quietly, nodding to the ax in Jake’s hand. 

Jake glances down at the ax. He got this just a few miles outside of camp. He pried it out of Fanboy’s hands--his cold, dead hands. And then he promptly spewed vomit onto the rocks just beside his body and Payback’s. He found them, their bodies hacked, lying together. They never left each other’s sides. Not for one moment. 

“I…” Jake whispers. He swallows, head pounding. “Get away from Bradley. Please, baby, please get away from him.” 

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle your skin as they raise. 

“Can it,” Bradley spits. You don’t have to see him to know how angry Bradley is right now, sneering and snarling at Jake. “You--you fucking son of a bitch! Bob is dead! You fucking killed Bob!” 

“Stop,” you beg softly, the gun shaking in your unsteady grasp. “Jake, just…just put the ax down, alright? And then we can talk.” 

“Talk? Fuck that,” Bradley yells. “He killed Bob!” 

“You did,” Jake utters. “You killed him, Rooster.” 

Is there so much hate for the ones we love?

You hear him loud and clear as if he’s just whispered in your ear. Heart pounding, you shake your head. Fuck. Fuck.  

“He’s lying,” Bradley laughs bitterly. “You fuck--you stupid fuck! You really think she’s gonna fall for that? You think she’s gonna believe you? You destroyed the fucking cabin and went AWOL and then people started dying!” 

But Jake isn’t responding to Bradley. He’s just staring at you, cowering where he stands, defeated and terrified. His shirt is ripped and his hair is messy and there’s blood underneath his fingernails. 

“Just drop the ax,” you tell him. “I don’t want to--I’m not gonna hurt you. We’re not going to hurt each other, right? Just drop it.” 

It's you and me

Jake drops it--it clatters onto the floor unceremoniously. Your lungs deflate. 

“Nightingale,” Jake whispers. His eyes are pouring into yours, red-rimmed and wide. “You have to get away from him, baby. He’s gonna hurt you.” 

Panic is pulsing in your chest now. You’re desperately clinging to reality right now--even though you’re not sure what that is. 

“He’s trying to confuse you,” Bradley whispers. “Don’t let him.”

“Gale,” Jake begs, sobbing. He steps closer to you. You reposition your fingers so they’re not sitting on the trigger anymore. “Please…please…just get away from him! Please!” 

Eyes wide, you watch as he stumbles closer. Bradley is grunting behind you, rearing the ax up further and further. 

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” Bradley sneers. “I mean it, man! Stay the fuck away!” 

“Jake,” you whisper. “Please. Please just stay where you are.” 

“Where’d you even get the ax?” Bradley asks. His voice echoes. 

Jake is still looking into your eyes, openly weeping. Bile dribbles down his chin. 

“They’re dead,” he whispers. “I--oh, God, they’re dead. I found ‘em. I found them together.” 

Be runnin' up that road

Be runnin' up that hill

You immediately know that he means Fanboy and Payback. They’re dead. They’re gone. They haven’t been answering the walkie calls. They’re not close to town at all--they’re just dead. 

A sharp and punctuated sob ripples through your entire body. Goddammit.

“Who?” Bradley demands. “Who the fuck are you--?” 

“--You know what you did,” Jake whispers to Bradley. Suddenly, Jake isn’t deflated. He’s almost close enough to reach out and touch you. Your finger isn’t on the trigger. His chest puffs up and his shoulders roll back. He can protect you. He can do that. “Don’t you fucking touch her, man. Don’t you fucking ax her like you axed them! You--you fucking got ‘em when they were sleeping, didn’t you? You’re a fucking coward.” 

Eyes wide, you begin to beg Jake to move back. 

“It’s you,” Bradley spits. “You’re the fucking killer! 

Oh, come on, baby (yeah)

Oh, come on, darlin' (yo)

“Enough,” you try desperately. “We’re gonna sit here and-and wait for Mav and Penny to come get us, alright? All of us!” But they’re not listening to you. Jake is staring at Bradley and Bradley is staring at Jake. “No one else is dying, okay?” 

“Who else is dead?” Jake asks. “Who else did he kill?” 

Your mind is racing. You don’t know what’s happening. You don’t know who’s telling the truth. All you know right now is that Jake seems earnest and Bradley seems angry and the truth is lying somewhere between them in no-man’s-land. 

“You know damn well Paul is dead,” Bradley sneers. You see it--Jake’s shock. Thoroughly, in your bones, you can tell that no, Jake did not know that. Your spine tingles. “You fucking killed him! And you cut Mable, didn’t you? Snuck out while Gale was sleeping, right? You coward.” 

Swallowing hard, Jake looks at you. His face is very serious, very anguished. 

Oh, come on, angel

Come on, come on, darlin'

“Don’t let him confuse you,” Jake begs. He’s desperate, shaking his head at you. “I’m still me. I’d never--you know that I’d never--!” 

“--You’re sick,” Bradley screams. His voice booms, drowns out the music. “You’re worshiping the same twisted demon Gwyar did, aren’t you? Or is it that--that you’re worshiping Gwyar? Him and his fucking ax and his sick fucking game! Feeding on everyone’s fear, scaring the tar out of everyone! Or is it that you’re cutting down anyone that gets too close to Gale? Huh? Is that it? You sick fuck!” 

Furrowing his brows, Jake looks at you. And you know that he doesn’t know what Bradley is talking about at all. 

You’re getting lightheaded. 

“Gale,” Jake whispers. It’s a desperate, desperate plea. “Get away from him, baby. Please, please, please. I won’t even--I won’t even touch you. Just get away from him. Point the gun at him.”

And here it is: you’re getting ripped apart. You didn’t even make it to the end of summer. 

But then Jake is falling to his knees, sobs tearing him to bits, looking up at you like a depraved and despaired. It’s horrific--having Jake there before you.  

“If you’ve ever done anything in your life, listen to me right now,” Jake sobs. “Please, Gale--get the fuck away from him. I’m not the killer, baby--Bradley is. You’re not safe!”

Your fingers are shaking. 

And if I only could

I'd make a deal with God

And I'd get Him to swap our places

“Enough,” you try. “Please, Jake--Bradley! Just stop!” 

Head swarmed, you look at Jake with wide eyes. 

“Maybe you’re possessed,” Bradley says, laughing humorlessly. “Maybe you couldn’t help yourself. You were drawn to it…you found the ax ‘cause it called for you, didn’t it?” 

Bradley’s chest is hot with rage. He wants to get Jake away from you--now.

And then Jake isn’t just on his knees before you, he’s throwing himself forward and against your legs. But your feet are planted so firmly that you don’t shake, you don’t fall. He isn’t trying to knock you over--he’s just hugging himself against your thighs, burying his face in the bottom of your belly and looking up at you. 

“I’d never hurt anyone,” Jake pleads with you. “You know that…baby, you know that. I don’t even know what he’s talking about! I don’t know who Gwyar is! I’m so confused…Gale, please…we have to get away from him!” 

“Get the fuck away from--!” 

“Stop!” You cry desperately. Jake is holding you so tight that you can’t breathe. “Stop it!” 

But they’re not listening to you. 

I'd be runnin' up that road

Be runnin' up that hill

“It isn’t me!” Jake sobs. “We have to get away from here!” 

“You fuck,” Bradley continues. “It took your blood! It wanted you! Sliced your hand when you were chopping that tree down!” 

The song ends. 

Your hearing goes out--fuzzy and fading. Every muscle beneath your sizzling skin is locked in place. A noose of fear wraps itself around your neck and tightens, tightens until you cannot breathe at all. Your lungs are stunted at a deep exhale. And you can’t close your eyes for even a millisecond to blink. Sulfur floods your nostrils--abundantly clear and thick in the air.

Jake stares up at you, horrified. He watches, in real time, as the realization dawns on you.

He was telling the truth. Bradley is the killer. 

“Bradley…” you whisper, voice quivering. Just barely, you turn your head. And Bradley is behind you, still looking like himself but ugly with rage and red with anger. “You cut your hand on the ax.” 

At first, his face contorts in confusion. He stutters, mouth parted. Brows furrowed, he attempts to say something. But his tongue is dry. But when he sees the fear in your eyes and hears Jake’s sobs, he knows the jig is up. He just gave himself away. 

You watch, in utter terror, as his face drops completely. And for the first time, as you stare at him, you see it: the pure, unadulterated evil. It’s there in the black in his pupils. The flecks of gold in his amber eyes are faded, gone. His smile is wide and broad, but it isn’t the smile you saw at the beginning of the summer. It is wicked--dry and nefarious. 

“Damn,” he says, sighing. He beams at you wickedly. So wicked that your arms go limp, the gun falling onto the floor. Good. He’s got you where he wants you. “I was doing so well, too.”

Lips open wide in shock, two stray tears fall down your face. 

And it is not a moment later that he brings the ax down.

Jake, with all the gall and gumption of the soldier his father wanted him to be, acts fast. So fast that he doesn’t even think--he just does.

“Gale!”

Closing your eyes, you accept it at once. You will die at the hand of Bradley--he’s killing you and you don’t know why other than he’s sick. And you’re already covered in blood, you already saw two dead bodies today. People are dying. You’re going to be another one to add to the pile. Your body will be covered with a sheet and your father will identify you with tears in his eyes and he will wonder why and you will die not knowing why. 

When you hit the ground, head slamming against the hardwood floors and neck cracking, you’re waiting for the pain to come. The first hit, the first hack. You’re waiting for release. 

But instead, you just feel heavy--something is brushing your nose because it is so close to you. And when you open your eyes, you’re staring into Jake’s. His eyes are wide in shock, his mouth, too. 

For a moment, you’re not sure what’s happened. Then you hear the strangled moan he releases, the barely-there and quiet thing. A steady stream of blood floods out from his parted lips and into your mouth. 

“Jake?” You whimper, terror flooding your body until you’re cold with it. 

And he’s so heavy on top of you and so warm--deadweight. And the warmth, it isn’t just his body heat. No, no…it is a wet and slick warmth. It is his blood that is leaking from his body and onto yours. 

Choking out a sob, your spit red with his blood spewing onto his face, you try desperately to move your arms. He has you pinned--and he’s so heavy that you can’t move. 

“My, my, my…” Bradley laughs. He leans down, wraps his hands around the handle of the ax and steadies himself by pressing his foot on Jake’s back, and rips the ax from his back. Jake coughs--blood spews across your face and you whimper aloud, stunned. Bradley totes the ax over his shoulder like it is as friendly and unassuming as his guitar. “Sacrificing his life. Now, that’s love, huh?” 

Jake can’t feel anything. Not the gash on his back or the blood he’s losing. He can’t feel your body beneath him or the sobs ripping through your shocked form. He can’t feel any of it. He’s just looking at your face, his mouth wide open and gaping, and praying that Bradley will go. 

“Jake,” you sob again. You can’t breathe. You can’t move. “Jake! Jake!” 

If Jake could speak, he’d tell you that he loves you and that he’s sorry he can’t do more. But he can’t, so he just slowly lowers his head until it falls into your neck. He stops moving.

Bradley watches from above you. He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck, sighs deeply. It feels good to be out in the open like this--no more lying, no more sneaking around. Just him, just you, just Jake. And he’s about to finish off the two of you and head to the bus barn. He’ll finish what was started thirty years ago--almost to the date, that sly dog. 

“Jake,” you keep whispering, shocked, stunned, horrified. Your body vibrates with panic. You don’t care about Bradley hovering over you. You care about Jake and the way his green eyes are losing the color, the way his cheeks are becoming pale. He can do nothing but stare at you, his vision beginning to blacken around the edges. “Jake, I…” 

And then Bradley kicks the shotgun--it slides across the floor and clatters against the wall. As if you weren’t already defenseless. You look up, quivering, and Bradley grins down at you. 

“I’m more of an ax guy myself,” he says, smiling. He leans down, settling the ax beside him. And then he strokes your hair back from your face, relishing in the horror that crosses your features. “Don’t wig out yet, baby. Let’s chat before I book it to the bus barn, huh? I can spare a few minutes for my best girl.”

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄:

BOB BE LIKE:

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒:

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[elfqueen006]

The Lifeguard part 3

Sunny Day Jack x Reader

---

Tags/CW: summer camp au, camp counselor au, horror, slasher, rivals to lovers. Angst. Humor. Murder. Graphic violence.

Minors DNI

“The new food isn’t bad, but I really don’t get the appeal of changing a brand that’s been fine on its own for decades,” Jack said, twisting one of his fries between his thumb and forefinger.

You put a massive glob of ketchup on your burger, “You really can’t chalk it up to anything other than making money,” You said. You take a big bite out of your burger, excess grease and condiment remaining on your lips as you messily chew and swallow before wiping your mouth, “Speaking’ of which… how much do I owe you for the meal?”

Jack waved you off, “No charge.”

“Don’t gimme that – I’ve got more than enough-”

“I don’t need it.”

You stare at him a moment before shrugging, “Whatever. I’m fuckin’ starving.”

“Don’t exaggerate,” Jack said.

“No really,” You replied, taking another bite of your burger, “I skipped breakfast.”

“Why would you do that?”

You shrug, “Couldn’t eat. I texted Skylar all last night and I still haven’t heard back,” The warmth drains from Jack’s cheeks and the feeling of lead weighs on his chest. 

He wets his suddenly dry lips, “Really?”

“Really,” You then scowled,” I know the bitch sees my texts though because she leaves me on ‘read’.”

Bile rises in the mascots’ throat. And he doesn’t know if it’s because of how casually you can call someone you deemed a friend a ‘bitch’. Or if it’s because he’s the reason you’re feeling so bitterly. Skylar wasn’t the one who left you on read, he did. Why did he have to go through her phone?! But in hindsight he supposed that this wasn’t entirely a bad thing. This gave you the impression Skylar was alive and well. Though he didn’t know how well someone could be after being found out you screwed someone else's boyfriend, but hey, he could probably assume if she were alive, she’d feel very guilty.

But Jack knows he’s being too quiet and asks to appear inconspicuous, “Have you heard from Ian at least?”

You shake your head, your frown deepening, “He isn’t even reading his texts…”

“You have any idea where they went? Or where they would go?”

“Nope.”

He sighs, letting disappointment seep into his features. Some of it is real. He’s disappointed this all had happened. It doesn’t even seem real, this past week. He’s hoping by tomorrow, he’ll wake up and Skylar will be smiling at him as she leads the kids on a trail to the ziplines, or that Ian will be trying his best to rangle his group in until you come in and his face turns red at the sight of you in the lifeguard’s leotard…

You’re swirling a fry in a pool of ketchup when you say, “I hope they’re dead…”

Jack choked on his drink, “What? ”

“You heard me.”

Jack ran a hand down his face, “No… no you don’t, Y/N.”

You hum, “Kind of,”

“No."

After a moment of silence you spoke, “I still can't believe it. Ian… you know we went to elementary school together. Since then we’ve been inseparable. And he’s never lied to me!” You slumped back in your chair, looking up at the fluorescent lights in the ceiling. “When he and Skylar met at that…fancy acting school I felt something in my gut telling me it wasn’t right but I just chalked it up as petty jealousy… How could he do that to me?”

Suddenly Jack feels as if he's the one who’d been cheated on. All this time he thought he had a chance with Skylar, but she had her eyes on someone else. Someone taken no less. He lets out a forlorn sigh. You shake your head and lean on the table, “Sorry. I know you liked Skylar so… this probably makes you feel pretty shit too.” You said.

“It’s fine,” Jack replied, smiling softly, “It’s not your fault.”

—

On your way to the campsite, little to no words were exchanged. You leaned over, resting your arm on the side door. You watched the buildings and civilization pass you by. It was like leaving your world behind, never having been much of an outdoorsy person.

Jack advised you to strap in, but of course, you hadn't listened.

“It isn’t that long a drive,” You said. “And the car doesn't even have a roof so I don’t know how much safer we’d be in seatbelts…”

As you said that, the car hits a hump in the road. You jolt in your seat and catch yourself on Jack’s forearm. “You were saying?” He said.

“Heh…”

You pushed yourself upright, but a hand lingered on Jack’s arm. It was surprisingly firm and toned. With a decent amount of hair. They always looked so plush from afar, especially with all the hugging he’d do. He was a big teddy bear to everyone he met. Well, everyone except you. 

“Y/N…”

You blinked out of your thoughts, his arm flexed as you subconsciously squeezed it. You retracted your hand, “My bad, you've got a lot of muscle for a mascot.” You said, chuckling slightly. 

Jack gave you a look. You put your hands up in defense, "Not trying to sound weird! It's just that, I dunno… I didn't expect a guy of your…position… to work out like that or anything…"

He turned his attention to the road once more, thumping his fingers on the steering we'll. 

"...I did some jobs back in the city before this." He said.

"What kind of jobs?" You asked.

"Moving. Heavy lifting. That sort of thing…"

You simply hum in reply before looking back out at the fields. Crossing a certain point in the road you spot the shed and point at a familiar figure, "Hey, isn't that Bill?"

Jack's head just about snaps off his neck as he spots the head counselor looking around the shed. Bill spots you two in the Moke and beckons the driver over. Instead, Jack speeds up and continues towards the campsite.

You brace yourself in your seat, "H-Hey! What's your rush?"

"I'm just trying to get you to camp safely." Jack replied. His eyes were erratic.

"I appreciate that, but didn't Bill need you or something? It could've been important!"

"Just let me do this very quickly!"

Soon enough, you made it to the campsite; Jack making a hasty pull over as you stumbled out of the cart.

"Um, thanks. For the free food and everything." You said. Jack grunts a reply and speeds off in a cloud of dust. You sigh. That guy is truly a piece of work.

Jack's stomach churns when he drives back to the shed. He pulls up on the grass. He hops out of the vehicle and strides up to Bill with a practiced and fight smile. The old man has his arms folded with a stern look on his face.

"Just what was that earlier? I know you saw me!" Bill scolded.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, an easygoing yet guilty look on his face, "Sorry, sir. But it was so late out now that I wanted to make sure Y/N got back safe." He said.

Bill's brows raised in surprise, "You were out with Y/N ?" He asked.

"Just for a bite to eat," Jack replied, "She didn't like what the cafeteria had and it turns out she skipped breakfast so…" He shrugged, doing his best to seem like the well meaning boy scout persona he built up for the past five years.

Bill however, didn't seem so convinced. A subtle smirk in his features. The implications made Jack a bit sick.

"You watch yourself now, Jack," He said, "the girl is taken after all."

Was.

Jack waved his hands defensively, "I-it's not like that at all sir! I was just doing a favor. It's not good for the counselors to go unfed as well as the kids!"

"Mmmhm. What'd I say? She's growing on you!"

Jack rolled his eyes. "What was it you wanted to see me about..?"

Bill snapped his fingers, "Ah," He led the young man back around the shed. He gestured to a long mound of dirt. Jack's palms sweat inside his gloves.

"W-what is it?" Jack asked.

"No idea… it certainly wasn't here before," Bill replied, "I came up here to put away the last of supplies." 

"How'd you find it..?"

“I remembered I sent Ian and Sky up here. They didn’t show after that. I thought if I looked around here I’d find something they left or…” His voice trails off and he shrugs. Jack stares intently at the mound. Almost hoping that if he stared hard enough, he could will it away, or maybe cover it in grass with his mind. Of course no such thing happened.

Bill toed at the dirt with his shoes. The dirt easily moving made Jack’s heart skip. “Do you have any idea where they might’ve gone?” Jack shook his head unblinkingly.

The old man simply hummed. Then he knelt down and dug his hand in the soil. Jack’s eyes widened, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Bill, I really don’t think you should do that! What if it’s an anthill or a nest of some sort?”

“I’ve been working here for twenty years and I’ve never seen a nest like this, Jack. Someone put something here…”

“Sir-”

“Go on and get me a shovel, boy.”

The words glued Jack to the spot. He couldn’t get his legs to move, because he was sure if they did, they’d take him down the road and away from the camp. Away from his life. Bill raised a brow, “Can ya hear? Go on then.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head. Tears stung the corners of his eyes.

Bill narrowed his eyes. He got up himself and brought the shovel from the shed. He dug the blade in the soil and chucked it over his shoulder. He then dug into another chunk. And another. Until he hit something solid. Jack’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t breathe.

Bill moved the excess dirt away until he saw the familiar yellow fabric of the counselor uniform shirt.

"Wha-"

He was taken down in a blur of blue, the shovel falling out of his hands. He wrestled against Jack's strong frame, attempting to buck out of his grip. Jack's arms came up around Bill's neck in an attempt to choke him.  The old man managed to maneuver his arm just a bit over his face and bit into his bicep. 

Jack yelled in pain, kicking Bill off, who fell into the arms reach of the shovel. Bill looked between the weapon and his assaulter before scrambling over to it. Soft fabric took hold of his ankle in a tight grip before pulling him back and Jack crawled over to grab it. 

Stumbling to their feet, Bill lunged at Jack, managing to grab ahold of the shovel neck. He attempted to wrestle the object from the larger man's grip, who never broke eye contact, his eyes bloodshot and wet with tears. Finally, with a hefty pull and shoving the old man with nothing but pure force, Jack was the one with the weapon and prepped for a swing, holding it over his shoulder. 

Bill's eyes widened, "Joseph, don't-"

Jack swung and Bill's head snapped backwards with a sickening crack. He stumbled backwards, his hand grasping aimlessly for anything to keep him upright before tripping over the dirt and falling onto his back.

The former head counselors head lolled to the side. His pale blue eyes stared up at the night sky, mouth hung open; forever in a state of shock of how he ended up where he was.

Jack’s hands clenched on the shovel, trembling with irritation, fear and everything in between. He sucked in a breath and yelled at the body. He wanted to say "I warned you not to look" "I'm sorry" or "fuck you". But all that came out was a broken wail.

He kicks at its leg repeatedly, screaming. He stomps the torso. He whacks the head with the shovel, inciting another gruesome noise, likely from bones breaking and flesh ripping.

It's only until the body is contorted in a such a manner - splayed out as if there wasn't a single bone in its body - that Jack relaxes. The damage has been done. And he gets to digging, taking care to make sure the hole is deeper.  

[xawkward-ariesx]

And they’ve never been lucky enough to go over a year without another incursion and with everyone - bar Nancy - from their little gang (Dustin insists they’re a party but Steve doesn’t really understand what that means) attending the camp he’s more than a little wary about tempting fate.

Chapter Two, Summer of 1986

[elixirfromthestars]

A Night of Frights & Delights

Pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader (College AU)

Summary: It’s Friday the 13th and the college kids in town decided to host a weekend camping trip on the outskirts of town. Your best friend convinced you to go much to your reluctance. What could go wrong when the one guy you can’t stand is also there?

Word Count: 7k

Warning(s): slight horror themes / suggestive tones + implications / mentions of a past murder (not in graphic detail just campfire storytelling) / slow burn / suspense + other elements of spookiness / touch starved elements / be prepared for lots of back and forth + tension

Prompt: Campsite + forced proximity + “ It’s not bad enough to have Friday the 13th, we’ve gotta have a full moon too?”

a/n: here’s my entry for @witchywithwhiskey ‘s summer slasher writing challenge. Any chance to celebrate summerween and I’m there 🤭✨ I got carried away with the spooky element of it and this ended up longer than expected. Thank you for reading! 🧡 Feedback is always appreciated!! 🎃🧡

“ It’s Friday the 13th! Gather ‘round, for some good ol’ scary campfire stories!” Sam Wilson called out to anyone who would listen. A task that wasn’t the easiest thing to ask for when all the college students in the area were trying to have their last bit of fun before fall semester started. Amongst the ones that weren’t already drunk or passed out, a few were trying to find the perfect opportunity to sneak away into the night.

You on the other hand sat near the bonfire, appreciating the warmth it provided on this chilly night. Your back was resting against a log. The scratchy surface grazes against your black sweater at the slightest movement. Camping wasn’t your ideal choice for a weekend getaway, but when your best friend Jane insisted on you coming along it was hard to say no. Especially, since you had already said no to multiple get-togethers throughout the summer. 

It’s not like you didn’t want to hang out with her. The issue was that wherever she was her boyfriend was—and wherever he was his friends were. And his friends included one smartass star pitcher for your university’s baseball team who made it his life’s mission to be a thorn in your side. 

Needless to say, you couldn’t stand the man.

“ It was actually 1982, not 1985,” Jane whispers her comment to you, nudging your arm lightly. You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at her, your clueless eyes meeting her amused ones. 

“ You’re not paying attention to Sam’s story, are you?” She quietly calls you out, leaning slightly closer. You shake your head sheepishly,“ No. Kind of got lost in thought,” you admit. Jane nods in acknowledgment,“ You’re not missing much. He’s just telling the story of the murders that happened here in ‘82,” she explains. You nod slowly, an eerie chill creeping up your spine. Everyone within fifty miles of the town knew of the horrific crime. It was the worst the town had ever seen. 

A group of teenagers had snuck off into the woods to party a week before their senior graduation. They brought their camping gear to spend the night under the full moon to celebrate the milestone. They had gone so deep into the woods no one heard their music blasting all night. 

No one heard their screams either as their life was taken from them. 

You took a shaky breath, your fingers tracing random patterns into the dirt beneath you. Even though you could recite this story from memory it was different hearing it told in gruesome detail. Something Sam was not shying away from doing. 

“ Don’t let Sam’s story get to you—here have a s’more,” Thor spoke up, handing you a small disposable plate with a freshly assembled s’more. His way of trying to comfort you. 

“ Thanks,” you shot Thor an appreciative smile, taking the sweet treat. Jane’s boyfriend had always been kind to you and you got along well. The mutual friendliness extended to all of his baseball friends.

Well, the friendliness extended to all his friends except for one.  

“ He’s telling it wrong anyway, so don’t pay it any mind,” Jane says causing you to let out a small laugh. Leave it to Jane to alleviate your nerves by just being herself. 

You try to drown out Sam’s true crime retelling and focus on the sugary gooeyness on your lap. Jane and Thor snuggle into each other beside you and a small smile appears on your face at the sight. You take a bite of the s’more, letting the flavors melt into your mouth. 

“ The next morning the cops led a search party into these very woods. Everyone searched day and night for three days straight. Scouting every inch, no stone unturned, to find them. And then one day, one member of the search party found something. That member being my Titi—so listen close,” Sam sets up the big reveal. 

“ Wanna know what they found?” A voice you know all too well whispers into your ear from behind. The hairs on the back of your neck stand as his breath fans your ear. 

“ I already know,” you grit out, turning your head to glare at him. Bucky can’t help the cocky grin that overcomes him when you look at him like that. He makes his way over the log and sits right next to you. You don’t hide the displeasure on your face. 

“ Couldn’t find anyone else to annoy, James?” 

 “ None worth my time, sweetheart—and it's Bucky.” 

You roll your eyes biting back a snarky comment. No matter the number of times he insists on you calling him by his nickname, you refuse to. Only his friends call him Bucky, and you're not friends—far from it. So to you, he’s James and nothing more. 

“ We’re not friends, James. Friends don’t make you miss your biology final,” you remind him bitterly. He looks at you with slight disbelief,“ You’re still stuck on that? How is it my fault the party went until four in the morning?” You bristle at his defensiveness. 

“ I don’t know. Maybe by not kicking everyone out of your apartment?” you retort, taking another bite of your s’more. Hoping to lose yourself in the sweetness of it before the distaste of his presence taints it. 

“ At least the professor let you make it up…” he mutters under his breath. 

“ That’s not the point,” you snip, unable to let him have the last word. You pretend to focus on Sam’s story, but really your attention is on the flames in front of you. The way they dance and crackle as if telling their own story alongside Sam’s. 

Bucky stares at you, his eyes scanning every detail of your face. His favorite pastime is finding all the ways to push your buttons. There’s something about your reactions that he can’t help but want to see more of. He openly enjoys being the only one who can elicit such responses from you. Hell, you could say he was proud of it. 

“ Stop it.” 

“ Stop what?” 

“ The staring.” 

“ Don't want to.” 

You turn to give him a piece of your mind but abruptly stop when you see the way he’s looking at you—or more so the way he’s examining your lips. His eyes reflecting more than just the golden flames in the bonfire. There was something deeper and not entirely unfamiliar. He had looked at you this way before, and yet it was still unrecognizable to you. An emotion you couldn’t pinpoint, but that was heartstopping nonetheless. 

His hand lifts to your face, his thumb brushing away at something on the corner of your mouth. Your tongue instinctively darts out to lick your lips and remove whatever remnants of the s’more are left. Something unreadable flashes in his eyes. You wonder what he must be seeing in yours when his eyes drift from your lips to your gaze. 

“ You had a little something there,” his voice has a deeper cadence to it, contrasting the cheeky grin plastered on his face. That damn grin. It’s all you need to snap out of whatever trance you were just in. 

“ You’re insufferable,” you hiss out, getting up from your spot on the ground and stepping away from the bonfire. You hate how he does this—how easily he’s able to mess with you. It’s like it's his second nature to know exactly how to get a reaction from you. Almost as if he knew you better than you knew yourself.

The vulnerability of it all is what ground your gears the most. Bucky was used to this. The flirting, the back and forth, the teasing, and having girls wrapped around his finger. The last time you were in a relationship was your freshman year of college—a few years ago. It had been too long of being touch-starved that the slightest of touches or gazes brought about a yearning deep within you. One that you swore Bucky could see right through and it made you detest the man more. 

You hated feeling like you were being toyed with. But above all, you hated how much you actually didn’t hate the attention he gave you. 

You make your way over to one of the many trashcans around the campsite and dump the last bits of your s’more in along with the disposable plate. Your appetite for the treat long gone after his little stunt. 

You use your phone as a flashlight as you walk over to where all the tents are stationed. It’s not too far from the bonfire, but far enough that the voices of everyone drown out into a low hum. A few people are already in the tents enjoying the night without the warmth of the fire. 

“ Y/n! Hold up!” Jane calls out to you from behind. You face her confused expression, “ Everything okay?” You nod, your hands hiding in the pockets of your grey sweatpants,“ Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just gonna call it a night,” you say tiredly. You don’t want her to worry or keep her from enjoying her night. 

“ Okay…Are you sure? Because you seemed off after Bucky—” 

“ Please for the love of everything don’t mention him.”

Jane drops the subject entirely, “ Okay, okay. I won’t,” she assures you and pauses for a moment before she adds, “ By the way, I’ll be staying with Thor tonight, so you have our tent all to yourself.” 

“ Oh? Oh…behave yourself, Foster,” you warn her playfully. She rolls her eyes waving off your tease,“ No promises.” You laugh together—the exchange alleviating the heaviness in your shoulders.

After a light farewell, your best friend retreats to the bonfire. You find your eyes drifting from her figure to the back of Bucky’s head. He’s still sitting in the same spot, right next to where you had sat. He was drinking away at a beer as Sam continues his story. You look away, ignoring the way your heart feels a small pang as it wonders if it would have been so bad if you had stayed.

Only Bucky had this way of infuriating you, but enticing you at the same time. A magnetic push and pull that tugs at you whenever you’re near him. 

You crouch down and unzip your humble abode for the night. Gazing up at the sky before heading in. The moon is bright and full amongst the dark hazy clouds. 

“ It's not bad enough to have Friday the 13th, we've gotta have a full moon too?” you grumble before entering the tent. The knowledge of being in here alone all night sounds less appealing now. You wish Sam had told a different story to set the mood for tonight. 

For the next couple of hours, you lose yourself in your sketchbook. Every corner of the tent became your makeshift desk as the soft scratches of graphite filled the air. A small LED lantern casting just enough glow to guide your intricate curves and shadows across the paper. At first, you were sketching a flower you had seen earlier in the day along a trail. You don’t recognize the species, but the cluster of pretty violet petals vividly lived in your head and you wanted it forever memorialized in your sketchbook. 

At some point, however, the petals turn into doodles and then unrecognizable scribbles. The creative flow taking a life of its own. You soon find yourself drawing a pair of eyes on another page. Giving them a space of their own. These eyes you recognize deep down, but they still have the same unreadable expression from earlier. Almost as if you hoped to decipher it by putting it on paper. 

Maybe then it would be easier to look at them without being affected—without feeling that pull. 

There’s a loud thump that echoes close to your tent. You freeze at the sound. By this point, everyone had called it a night and retreated to their sleeping arrangements. It had been at least half an hour that you hadn’t heard a single sound except for the chirping of crickets amongst a chorus of other creepy crawlers. 

When no sound followed the thump you decided to ignore it—acting like you hadn’t heard a thing. And yet, your fingers swiftly moved to turn off the lantern and close your sketchbook, neatly tucking it beneath your pillow. 

Another noise rang out—the skidding of dirt. And this time it was closer to your tent. Not directly outside it, but almost. You don’t know why your heart dropped or why your fingertips went cold, but they did. You tell yourself it’s probably just someone going out to use the bathroom or some other related activity. 

Your body betrayed your mind as it started to feel enclosed in the tent. Like a prey caught in a trap. Hopelessly awaiting the moment the predator decided to take them out. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and with numb fingers, you grab your phone. The tent shrinking around you as your heart pounded in your chest. Going out to investigate the source of the noise wasn't the smartest idea. However, continuing to be a sitting duck in the tent was distressing you more—and that helpless feeling overpowered anything else. 

You slowly unzip the tent, trying to make as minimal noise as possible. You slip on your moccasins, putting one foot in front of the other as you step out into the night. Your surroundings are cast in shadows as the moon seems to be hiding behind a gloomy cluster of clouds. You look around and notice no one else is awake. Only dormant tents with sleeping residents inside accompany you in the night. 

You scan the area, training your ear to see if you can pick up any noise. 

That’s when you hear it—a rustling in the bushes. 

You peer into the woods, your eyes narrowing hoping to center on something, but you can’t see anything. There’s a slight fog that encases the lines of trees encircling the campsite obstructing your view. 

You take a few steps forward, hugging your sweater closer to your body. The outside air catches you off guard with its falling degrees. The shadows at every corner of the woods become creatures of the night if you stare at them for too long. 

Why were you doing this? Why had you decided this was a good idea? 

You questioned yourself. An unpleasant shiver goes up your spine at the thought of you walking straight into a creature’s claws. Your footing stumbled, and yet you found yourself walking further in the direction of the sound, the faint glow of your phone illuminating your path. You decided against using the actual flashlight on your phone as it could easily alert whatever was hiding in the foliage of the woods. 

You don’t go too far from the campsite. Your legs only take you a few feet away from the perimeter of it before tensing at the way the hoot of an owl cuts through the stillness of the night. Your breath caught in your throat, and you gripped your phone tighter. The edges of it digging into your skin. 

“ What are we looking for?” A voice too close for comfort whispers behind you and it causes you to shriek, your phone tumbling to the ground as you jump away from the source. Your eyes zero in on the culprit—your blood boiling when your gaze meets his ceruleans. 

James Buchanan fucking Barnes.

A deep chuckle erupts from Bucky at your reaction. Not only at the way you jumped, but also at the way you’re now seething. He stands there in a basic white tee and black joggers, his hair slightly unkempt from lying on it earlier in the night. 

“ What the hell is wrong with you?” You hiss, bending down to pick up your phone from the ground. The anxiety from before dissipating into irritation. 

“ Me? What’s up with you? Sneaking around in the woods at night. That’s kinda creepy, sweetheart,” he jabs with a smirk. You roll your eyes, exhaling to steady your breath,“ Stop calling me that. And I'm not sneaking around—I heard something.” 

“ And you came to check it out?” 

“ Yeah.”

“ You have no survival instincts, do you?”

“ And you do? You're out here too.”

Bucky crosses his arms, his eyes roaming over your figure. He’s thoroughly entertained by your attempt to catch whatever is out there in your cozy outfit. It’s not exactly monster-hunting material. 

“ I let my buddy have the tent for the night. He’s got a girl in there. Thought I'd sleep under the stars like nature intended,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. A wry smile appears on your face,“ Aren’t you a great friend,” you reply sarcastically. He’s about to give you a snippy retort when a branch breaks ahead of you, causing you both to snap your attention to it. 

You both go silent—wondering if you’ll hear anything more. Bucky takes a few steps forward to stand in front of you. Positioning himself between you and the unknown noise. 

“ Is that what you heard earlier?” He asks, his voice a hushed whisper. Your eyes drift up his form and the way his arm is slightly outstretched in your direction in a protective stance. He’s looking in the direction of where the sound came from, but then his head turns back to look at you. 

It takes you a second to gather your words,“ Sort of. At first there was like a loud thud by my tent and then some rustling—and now this,” you describe the unfolding events thus far.

He frowns,“ Is your tent the one by Wanda’s?”At his question you nod,“ Yeah…why?” He tilts his head slightly as he tries to recollect something. 

“ The two-person one with the purple edges?” 

“ Yeah…” 

His features soften, dawning on a sheepish expression. His protective stance faltering as he scratches the back of his neck,“ The noise was me then—sorry. I tripped over something while looking for a place to piss.” 

“ Oh…” Is all you manage to say. Feeling utterly foolish for getting so worked up over nothing. What you had thought was something going bump in the night ended up being Bucky stumbling to relieve himself. 

Another branch cracks in the murky fog. Reminding you that although the noises you heard outside your tent were explained, the ones here, not too far from you and Bucky—weren’t. 

“ I’m gonna go check it out,” he takes a step forward, but you stop him. Your hand shoots out to grip the hem of his shirt,“ Don’t! Are you crazy? You’re going to get yourself killed or something!”

His eyebrows raise, not expecting you to have that reaction.“ Are you worried about me, sweetheart?” A smirk spreads across his face, a twinkle in his eye.“ As if—screw you,” you deny harsher than you intended, removing your hold from his shirt. This only provokes him more, his smirk turning into a cheeky grin,“ You wanna?” 

“ You know what? I hope whatever is out there gets you.” 

“ Oh, you’d miss me if it did. But don’t worry—if it gets me, I’ll make sure to let it know you’re the one worth chasing." 

Bucky doesn’t give you a second to process what his words really mean. Instead, he takes out a small flashlight from the pocket of his joggers. He turns it on, shining the area ahead of him. A brazen expression is the last thing you see before he wanders into that direction of the woods as if there wasn’t potentially something dangerous up ahead. 

You wanted to protest, but you didn’t. Rather, you end up standing there amongst the wilderness, watching as his form gets smaller and smaller until it disappears into the haze of the fog. 

You feel uneasy as soon as you don’t see him. Your chest feels heavy with the unknown. You call out to him. Thinking maybe he’s doing this to prove something or to mess with you. When he doesn’t call back you find apprehension in the sinking pit of your stomach. 

Behind you, the campsite is still in sight. The smart thing to do would be to go wake someone up—like Thor—to go after Bucky. However, your feet work faster than your mind does, pushing you to follow after him. 

This time you use the flashlight on your phone to light your path. The luminescence cuts through the fog as you trudge through it. Leaves crunching beneath your feet, and hands outstretched lightly to use the passing trees as support to persist onward. 

You walk for a good few minutes before you finally spot him. He’s standing by a tall pine tree, his right hand tracing over something etched into the bark. 

“ James! Come back to the campsite!” You whisper yelled, approaching him. He hummed,“ So you are worried about me,” the smugness in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you. When he turns to face you his eyes tell you he was expecting you. Like he knew in the end your stubbornness and pride wouldn’t matter because you’d end up following after him after all.

You are worried about him. He needs no further proof than your actions. 

There was a prickling of annoyance building up in your system. More than anything, you wanted to get out of the woods as soon as possible. The campsite feels like a haven awaiting your return. 

“ Can you stop being so insufferably cocky for one second and just come back to the camp before I drag your ass back?” You say through gritted teeth. You wanted to have more bark to your bite, but the inkling dread of what could be out here stopped you from crossing that line. 

He stepped closer to you, the glow of his flashlight reflecting in his eyes in tiny glimmers,“ Why? I thought you didn't care if ‘whatever is out there’ got me.”

“ I don’t—but I’d hate to be an accomplice to that thing.” 

“ Admit it. You’re worried about me.”

By now Bucky was mere inches away from you. Having slowly sauntered right up to you. His eyes were daring you to speak the truth—his arrogant smile tempting you to do even more. 

“ I came to get you back, but if you’re determined to stay here then stay,” you huff, spinning on your heels to storm off. 

Bucky’s hand reaches out and encloses your wrist gently. Just enough to keep you from walking away. He sighs with defeated ire. 

“ Sweetheart, why won't you admit—” he’s cut off by the swift movement of something dashing past the both of you. He immediately pulls you in closer, his arms encasing you protectively—his body a shield. One arm is wrapped around your waist while the other holds your head. Your own body leans into his as if bracing for impact. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see the culprit of the racket. A deer dashing through the woods like it had somewhere to be. You held back a laugh at the revelation. 

This is what had you so worried this whole time? A deer? 

Even so, your heart races in your chest. And Bucky has you so tightly pressed into his that you can feel the way his own heart is thrumming rapidly. Both of your breaths work to steady from their instability as you realize there is nothing truly to be worried about. 

You stay like this for what seems like an eternity. Finding comfort in each other’s arms. The fog dances around your figures as if pushing you closer. The tips of your fingers tingle from where they’re pressed at his chest. 

When you finally register whose touch it is, you pull away. Bucky reluctantly lets you go. His arms awkwardly falling to his sides. You don’t know what to say. He doesn’t know where to start.

Why was his instinct to protect you? To keep you from harm’s way? 

And why had you felt the safest all night in his arms? 

You swallow the questions that desire to escape. There’s a part of you that feels like you should thank him, but then the other part feels stupid for wanting to do so. Knowing how much it would feed his ego to vindicate him as a hero. 

“ Guess it was just a deer, huh?” Bucky tries to cut through whatever tension is starting to build. 

“ Yeah…silly us…” you reply, half-heartedly. Your mind still reeling from his touch. 

You both go quiet again. The silence welcomes you where words fail to. 

Out of nowhere, you feel a tiny bead land on your head. Followed by one on your hand and then your cheek. It's beginning to drizzle. The rain cutting through the trees and promising to kiss every inch of your skin. 

“ We should get going,” Bucky says, his palm cupped to catch a few droplets. 

“ Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you agree, clearing your throat. In other circumstances, Bucky would rejoice and point out how, for once, you aren’t arguing with him. But not right now—not at this moment. Not when the memory of holding each other stirred something within you both. 

No, now instead you walk back to the campsite in silence. You’re a few steps ahead as Bucky decides to tow along at a slower pace. Seemingly lost in thought. 

When you’re back at the campsite your eyes dart to your tent. It’s within reach. A safety you can hideout in until the emotions Bucky arose in you fade away.  

“ Can I chill in your tent for a while? Just until the rain stops,” Bucky surprises you with his request. Until you remember he gave up his tent to his friend for the night. 

“ What? No,” your response is immediate. The thought of you and Bucky alone in your tent causes many scenarios to run through your head. You didn’t think you’d make it through the night with him in it. You were barely hanging on as it is. 

“ I just saved your life.” 

“ You did not.”

“ Did too.” 

“ James, you absolutely did not–” 

“ Please,” his soft plea tugs at the very part of you that wants to say yes. He’s not the kind of guy to beg, but he’ll do anything to not stand out in the cold rain. You being in an enclosed space with him was just a bonus. 

An extremely tantalizing bonus. 

“ Fine…but only until the rain stops,” you concede. You weren’t heartless enough to leave him out in the rain. 

You zip open the tent and climb inside. You remove your moccasins and leave them by the entrance. The inside is spacious enough for the two of you, but you still find yourself going into the furthest right corner of it. You sit crossed-legged as you turn on the small LED lantern to illuminate the tent with its muted glow. He makes his way inside, his hair glistening from the rain. He leaves his muddied slides by your moccasins. 

“ This tent is way nicer than the one Sam and I got,” he comments, running a hand through his hair to dispel the droplets. He’s trying to make light conversation, keeping his distance as he sits in the corner by the entrance diagonally from you. 

“ Jane’s family is really into camping so she had this one laying around…” you mention. The oddity of small talk between you fills the space with a foreign dynamic. The rain goes from a sprinkle to a pour. Hitting the top of the fabric cacoon in harsh strokes.  

He chooses to pivot the conversation.“ Do you have everything ready for fall semester?” He asks you, maneuvering to sit with his knees bent, his shirt hiking up the smallest bit to expose the skin at his hips. You avert your gaze when your heart does a little flip. 

“ Almost. I still have one or two textbooks to get,” you reply, playing with a few loose threads of the blanket beneath you. Anything to not have your eyes wander back to him. 

He scoffs lightly,“ You already got your textbooks? There’s no way. I always get ‘em after the first week.” Unlike you, he can’t seem to keep his pretty blues away from you. Your features heightened in the gentle sheen of the lantern. Intricate shadows scattered across your figure that made you look ethereal. The way his heart hammered in his chest romanticizing the sight of you.

“ That's because I’m responsible and you’re not.” 

“ I am responsible. As captain of the baseball team—”

“ Spare me the team leader speech, please,” you groan, stopping him from continuing. There’s only so much you can take for one night. And hearing Bucky light up as he talks about the one thing he’s passionate about—the one thing that humanizes him to you beyond his usual cheeky self. It would do more to you than just make your heart do a little flip.

You’d end up saying or doing something you wouldn’t be able to take back. 

“ Look, Y/n, I’m just trying to make conversation here. You don’t have to be so difficult all the time. Just talk to me,” Bucky brings you out of your thoughts not only by his exasperated tone, but by the way your name rolls off his tongue. He so rarely calls you by it. He’s called you sweetheart endlessly—and he’s even slipped a few sunshines in the mix—but your name was foreign to his vocabulary.  

 Bucky is usually good at dealing with your constant back and forth. Some days it's the only thing he looks forward to. However, right now it was irritating him how much you pushed back. He wanted you to give in. To what, he wasn’t sure. But he wondered what normalcy felt like with you—what just a damn friendly conversation felt like. 

You sigh, meeting his eyes.“ I don’t want to talk. Sorry, I think I’m just tired. Maybe we should go to bed,” you suggest, hoping that if he says yes you can sleep away the bubbling of emotions in your chest. 

You can see the way he contemplates something, biting the inside of his bottom lip. Now he’s the one holding back. A beat passes and you nervously wonder if he’ll turn down your suggestion. 

“ Fine—it's late anyway. But only if I get to sleep next to you. I promise I’ll keep my distance. It’s just there’s water leaking through the zipper at the entrance,” he mentions, his hand motioning to the entry. Your eyes dart to where he’s pointing and sure enough there’s a small puddle of water pooling by it. Not knowing how long the rain would continue, you knew you had to deal with the issue.

You grab Jane’s camping gear that holds numerous amount of supplies in all of its various pockets. She always came extra prepared no matter the occasion. You take out a washcloth, scooting over to the entrance to soak up the forming puddle. You decide to leave it there neatly tucked underneath where the water was finding its way in.

“ Alright, but if you snore I'm kicking you out,” you warn, but it’s more playful than serious. Something to lighten the mood before you go to bed. A way to dissipate whatever tension’s built up so you'd be able to fall asleep. 

It’s hard to cut through the tension and alleviate its symptoms when your shelter from the storm seems to shrink the more you chat with Bucky. And now sitting right next to him—shoulder to shoulder—it seems like a damn near impossible task. 

" I’ll take my chances. But just so you know, I don’t go down without a fight,” he winks at you, your shoulders brushing. Your heart rate picks up and it takes everything within you to stare into his eyes and not focus on the way that simple contact sent a shiver down your spine. 

His eyes drift to your lips causing your breath to hitch. The implications of where this could go are enough to pull you away from his spell. 

“ Goodnight,” you choke out. Subtly rushing over to your sleeping bag and settling into it. You don’t see when he shakes his head, but you do hear how he chuckles lowly. He mumbles something under his breath, but you can’t pick it up. 

He makes his way over to Jane’s sleeping bag, but lays on top of it instead of nestling into it. Choosing to cover himself only in the maroon fleece blanket that was draped over your body too. 

“ Goodnight,” he finally says, his body turning to face away from you. You respond by turning off the lantern. The space is now engulfed by darkness. Only the faintest of light shines in from the outside, letting your eyes trace the outlines of objects. 

 You turn to your side. Your back facing his. You take a deep breath, concentrating on the sound of the rain to hopefully lull you into a slumber. But the air felt too thick and your body was burning up from the heat radiating under the blanket. There was a good foot or so separating your body and Bucky’s. And yet, you could feel the heat radiating off of him as if he was pressed up right against you. 

It was too much. You swore you started sweating, so you shuffled under the covers and out of the sleeping bag. Every movement slow and deliberate as if to not snap the rope keeping the palpable tension in place. 

When only the plush fleece covered your body, the heat radiated less. But the fluttering of the blanket caused Bucky’s cologne to waft your way. A pleasant scent of musky woodiness with a hint of something that was entirely him. You gripped the cover tightly and counted to ten in your head. You were going mad. 

“ Would you stop hogging the blanket? ” Bucky muttered from beside you. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell you to stop doing. Because you and your constant fidgeting were driving him crazy. Every fiber of his being holding back from doing something to snap that rope. 

You didn’t realize you had been pulling it your way until he mentioned it. Your grip on it loosened,“ Sorry. I wasn’t hogging it though,” you argued for no reason other than to fill the silence. 

“ Yes, you were.” 

“ No, I wasn’t.” 

There was something about the proximity of your bodies that made the blanket seem smaller. Like there was no possible way it could equally cover both of your sleeping forms. Maybe this is what caused you to then tug at it, however, he holds it firmly to himself too.  

Persistently you pull at the blanket again. He pulls back—a tug of war ensues between you. You can hear him huff in the darkness, but you're not letting up. Bucky couldn't care less about the blanket. He only cared about not letting you get the upper hand. His competitive streak showing.  

While you solely really didn’t want to let him win. 

You wrap the end of the blanket around yourself—almost like a cacoon. The delicate fleece encases you. Leaving the bare minimum amount for Bucky to cover himself with. 

“ You have got to be one of the most stubborn people I have ever met in my goddamn life,” he practically growls as he yanks forcefully on the blanket. A tiny yelp escapes you as you get pulled along with it. 

You underestimated the strength of the star pitcher. 

You end up on top of him. The blanket now an extra cushy barrier between your bodies. In the dim light, your eyes lock, and you can faintly see the outline of a boyish grin on his face. You don’t move away. There’s like an invisible force that keeps you there. Your body pressed against his feeling his warmth tenfold. You can’t tell if either of you are breathing because all you're aware of now is how his heart beats in time with yours. 

“ You’re insufferable you know that?” you swallow hard, your voice lacking its usual bite.

“ You sure about that, sweetheart?” he challenges, his voice barely above a whisper. His lips brushing against yours with feather-light contact.

When had your lips gotten so close? 

You don’t know who leans in first. The one who finally breaks the standoff because your lips seem to meet at the same time. The kiss is sweet, but with a slight hesitance to it. As if neither of you are completely sure the other wants this. Or more like neither of you believes this is happening. However, when his hands grip the back of your thighs, sliding your legs from on top of him to his sides so you straddle him—you believe it. And when your hands find themselves threading in his hair—he believes it. 

One kiss that tests the waters turns into one that slowly sinks into the feeling. Until the two of you fully submerge into the depths of whatever has been simmering between you for what seems like too long. Delicate kisses that get more heated—more intense as your lips continue to meet. Bucky beams at the fact that you’re no longer pushing, but pulling into him. His craving for you only increasing now that he’s had a taste. 

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, slow and gentle. Asking for permission to deepen the kiss. Bucky Barnes isn’t the type to be slow and gentle—but when it comes to you he finds himself wanting to relish every second he gets. Not knowing when he’ll get another moment like this with you again. 

Your lips part enough for him to slip his tongue in to truly kiss you like he wanted to. As soon as you grant access he takes full opportunity to explore every corner of your mouth. His tongue molding with yours in fervor. Your fingers lightly tug at his hair while his hands roam your body memorizing every curve and dip. Wherever he gripped and caressed, his touch left heat in its wake. 

A heat you had to contain before it consumed you both. 

“ If you think you’re getting lucky tonight—think again. This is the most you’ll get,” You say breathlessly, pulling away to help your lungs remember what oxygen is. 

He groans, breath panting, the outline of his pout evident in the dim light,“ Don’t do this to me, sweetheart. Can’t leave me like this.” His voice a desperate whine that allured you to keep going. 

“ Too bad. You're dreaming if you think this is going any further.” 

“ God, you don’t wanna know what I've dreamed about.” 

“ Shut up,” you cut off his groan with another kiss. Fierce enough to silence him immediately. He hopes you shut him up like this more often. 

Your lips meet again in a hasty lock. No hesitation now as your tongues meet quicker. You seem to be obsessed with his hair as you run your fingers through it again. He shivers at the touch. His hands slide under your sweater to trail along your soft skin. Keeping his hands along your back and waist. Teetering around the boundary you drew, so he didn’t get carried away. But it was hard when kissing you felt as good as throwing the perfect game—maybe even better.

He realizes the emotions you bring out of him are worth a lifetime waiting for.

He pulls away this time to catch his breath, his hands sliding up your body to cup your face,“ I’m in no rush, sweetheart. I’ve got all the time in the world to take it all the way—make you fall for me.” 

You hum, leaning into his touch,“ You seem sure of yourself. ”

His voice is rough yet affectionate when he speaks,“ I’m sure of you, sweetheart. You’re worth every second, and I’m not stopping until you see it too.” 

He gives you one final tender kiss. One that's full of promise for the future. You weren’t sure if it was his words or the meaning in the kiss that stole your breath away. 

After a few seconds, you both pull away. Separating your bodies from each other to provide that much-needed space before lines were crossed.

“ Goodnight, Bucky,” you say, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how you would keep your hands and lips to yourself come tomorrow. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat when you called him by his nickname. Bringing a genuine smile to his face, loving the way it sounded coming from you. 

“ Goodnight, Y/n.”

Even after saying goodnight, the two of you can’t fall asleep immediately. You try to, but there are small moments in the night where you drift back to each other. Where in the darkness your lips meet again and again—satiating the tension in parts. Where your hands find themselves under the covers and layers of clothing. Flaming the fans of desire just enough so it doesn’t completely burn out, but smoldering to be reignited at any moment’s chance. 

You don’t realize when you fall asleep. Your eyelids growing heavy at some point tangled up in his body under the covers. Your face in the crook of his neck. His head resting on top of yours. Your bodies fit like puzzle pieces like they were meant to be connected in every way. 

It’s not until that morning when you wake up and find yourself in his arms, snuggled into his side, that the events of last night sink in. You pull away the tiniest bit. Merely enough to be able to get a look at him. The brown strands of his hair tousled and clinging to his forehead. The slope of his nose, his dark lashes fanned delicately against his skin, and the tiniest parting of his lips. He looks peaceful—almost angelic as he slumbers. 

You’re itching to sketch the image in front of you. 

You can’t stop yourself from reaching out to touch the strands at his forehead. It’s enough to have his eyes flutter open, their color brighter in the daylight. He gives you a lazy smile the instant he realizes last night wasn’t a dream and you really were here, nestled in his arms. 

No words were exchanged, but both of you were conscious of the line you had drawn last night. And yet, you both also knew that in time, that line would be crossed again and again. Until the line blurred into oblivion.