#the soothing counsellor

[torturingpeople]

finally drew up a roster of all of my flpcs :-) from left to right this is edison, harper, dove and freya and all of their accounts can be found on my pinned post (which will now have this as its header!)

[str4ng3-child]

holy shit this is incredibly irrelevant but

tell me why the fuck he reposted a video on tiktok that said ""you would have loved this" I thought" with an Adrianne lenker song. He fucking knows how much I love Adrianne lenker. "Oh yeah I reposted that Adrianne lenker video because I knew you'd see it and like it" - him a few months ago.

So why, why would you repost that. And he unmutualled me on there, and yet I still get notifications when he reposts or likes this I do.

more thoughts on this- the text literally said, "you would have loved this, I thought". and you know what I love, and he knows I love? Adrianne lenker.

"You would have loved this"

[rabbitblackx]

Hello! Can I request a fem, motherly s/o who is secretly a killer too? And they find out by seeing them bloody while cooking? Micheal, Jason, and Freddy Krueger? Thank you!

Sowwy now only doing two slashers per ask since coming back!🥲💕

Michael and Jason Find Out Motherly!Reader is a Killer

Michael Myers💖

Michael tried to act like your motherly ways towards him annoyed him, but it was a big fat lie. He lapped that shit up. He brushed you off like a moody teenager when you fretted over his bloody jumpsuit or when his boot prints tracked through your home. Little did you know though, his black eyes were almost soft behind his mask. You reminded him of his mummy. <3

Michael’s stomach nearly dropped when he entered your kitchen to find you covered in blood. He feared you were hurt or in shock, but the way you were humming while cooking on the stove told him you weren’t in pain…

It wasn’t your blood.

You smiled sweetly at Michael, and that was when he spotted the body in the hallway. A shiver of delight ran through him and he stormed over, making you squeal as he hoisted you up onto the counter. His large hands were all over you, rubbing the blood into your soft skin as he yanked his mask off. Your lips tasted metallic.

Jason Voorhees💖

Jason absolutely adored you. You were just as sweet as his dear mother. He could spend the entire day just laying with his head in your lap as you cooed and petted him.

He never thought for a second you could’ve been a killer. When he found you cooking his dinner while covered in blood, he had never moved so fast. Really, Jason was usually very slow! You squeaked as he sped over, grabbing your shoulders hard and looking over you for injuries.

Jason was panicking but your soothing voice slowly calmed him, your hand caressing his mask. You gently explained to him how it wasn’t your blood, and pointed out the body of a camp counsellor laying down the hall.

Okay, now you really reminded Jason of his mother. Were you her reincarnation? As freaky as the situation was, he found his strong arms wrapping tight around you in a bear hug. The bloodbath you created weirdly comforted him. You were just like mum…

[fanaticsnail]

As far as I know, you're not a big Zoro girlie, but imagine, if you will:

Relaxing with Zoro in his hammock. You're both facing each other, legs tangled together as you're both occupied with your own little activities. It's quiet and peaceful;relaxing, even.

Breaking the silence and asking him a question, only to look up and see your favorite moss-head fast asleep. Allowing yourself to relax and drif off yourself, book still resting on your chest.

Not waking up until late in the evening, when Sanji's yell of "Dinner!" sends you both tumbling out of the hammock and into a heap on the floor.

-♡♡

Hey Anon. Your ask ran away with me and I had to see how some softness would play out. While Zoro is not one of my main blorbos, I do appreciate this marimo. Had to give him some appreciation with a drabble for you.

I Don't Sound Like That

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,400+

Synopsis: You and Zoro have grown closer over the past few weeks. Being invited to rest and study beside him in his hammock, you reflect on your journey travelling with your crew aboard the Going Merry.

Themes: Zoro x gn!reader, Fluff, teasing, tiredness, mention of injury (Zoro), kisses.

Notes: Had this request sitting in my asks for a day, and I needed this bad enough that it pushed my other thoughts aside.

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @indydonuts @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @i-am-vita

Lounging lazily within the hammock and entangled within a burly mess of limbs, your bodies rocked to the sway of the waves crashing against the hull of the Going Merry. The gentle rise and fall of the swell surrounding your vessel shepherding into your next adventure had you soothed from your restless day. Flipping through the pages in your book, you sigh softly and enjoy the warmth from Zoro’s encumbering embrace as he rested in his hammock beneath you. 

The reason you sought out the First-Mate to your Captain, Luffy, was not only because you felt protected under his care above Usopp, Nami, Luffy or Sanji, nor was it due to the fact that he wouldn’t likely tell you “no,” should you ask to enjoy an embrace with him. 

The reason you fell into his hammock and joined yourself in his resting space is because you had grown closer over these past few weeks. He was still healing from the large gash and soft stab in his chest from the legendary warlord, Dracule Mihawk. Fighting the Arlong-Pirates while in such a state did a number on his body, and he would constantly fall by your side and sleep within your shadow. 

He was comfortable with you enough to let you know how truly much he was struggling with his injuries. You were ships counselor, it was your job to be privy to the thoughts of your captain and crew - aiding them in their journey of reflective self-discovery. Luffy needed guidance as your captain, and as his counselor; you were ready and willing to provide that to him. 

While Zoro confided in you that his injuries truly ached, you offered to be by his side in his hammock to give him some pressure and warmth from your body to his. It was in the 'name of healing', you informed him, 'no funny business'.

As the ship waded through a particularly large swell, the hammock shook you from your thoughts and had you look up to notice Zoro had risen from his soft slumber. He was looking at your face through furrowed brows, attempting to get a read on your thoughts with an elevated brow. 

“Something on your mind, Counsellor?” he smirked, the corner of his lips ticking up as he looked down at you on your position on his chest. You anchor your chin over his heart, watching as he winces under your face. Noticing his soft wince, you mutter out a soft “sorry,” and readjust your position to not hit any of his injuries. 

Gazing up into his eyes, you look at him through narrowed eyelids and fluttering lashes. 

“Just thinking about how we all got here, is all, Swordsman,” you murmur in response. Zoro’s hazelnut eyes stare down at you, his expression softening as he witnesses your soft confession. He gently reaches his hand down and takes your cheek in the palm of his hand. Running his thumb over the apple of your cheek, his expression softens further. 

“Oh?” he murmured with a soft swell at the end of his question, “Regretting joining us already, hm?”

"Not at all," you laugh through your nose, rolling your eyes at his teasing tone. “You regret begging me to come with you at Syrup-Village?” He huffed a small shocked laugh at your tone, shaking his head slightly at your question.

“Begging?” he scoffed in return, drawing you closer to his face by your chin and jaw, “The way I remember it,” he moved his hand to the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair and smiling softly, “You were the one who said ‘Oh, big, burly swordsman. I need you so badly. Take me in your strong arms and usher me into a life of adventure at sea’.” You scoffed, hitting him on the chest playfully and earning a soft grunt in response to the small smack. 

“I don’t sound like that, and I never said those things,” you scrunch your nose up at him, “You were the one that said: ‘Luffy. You need guidance, and I’m not smart enough to give you the help you desperately need. We need someone way smarter than I could ever dream of being,” that comment had a small chuckle rise in his throat.

You continued to deepen your voice, openly mocking him with joy, “We need to get you a counsellor, and someone I can bare my soul to when I keep watch alone at night. The sea gets so lonely, and I need someone in my arms at all times. I am a sucker for comfort, and I need to cradle something into my stocky, broad chest after I get lost- mmfhph!” 

Zoro cut you off by joining his lips against yours. His lips were chapped and tasted of salt from the sea, and slightly sweet from the hard sake he drank earlier. Your eyes were wide and staring at his fluttering eyelashes. His brow was furrowed in deep concentration as he breathed in a sharp inhale through his nose, his lips parting to deepen the soft oscillation. He groaned at the feeling of you opening yourself up to him, enjoying the soft kiss he was pressing against you.

This was not something you had anticipated on receiving from the swordsman, particularly because you were yet to formally begin anything together. You shared embraces, sure. The odd sparring session, certainly. Using your body to sit on his back while he did pushups, or sit on his feet to hold them steady while he curled his stomach in a flurry of sit-ups, absolutely. But kisses? Not something you expected. 

After breaking the soft kiss, he cradled your chin in his hand and thumbed over your bottom lip affectionately, uttering a simple, “You talk too much,” before scolding you, touching his forehead to yours, “And I don’t sound like that.” 

You shook your head at him, placing your book face down and open on his chest beneath you, rubbing the tip of your nose against his affectionately. 

“That may be true,” you utter softly, “But you don’t deny you said half of those things I said.” He chuckled, removing his forehead from yours and giving it a soft shake. You laughed alongside him, scrunching your nose and looking at the mossy-haired swordsman cradling you in his arms with soft adoration. A flutter ignited in your chest as he pressed a soft kiss against your temple. 

“Get back to your reading, Counsellor,” he murmured, giving you a soft nudge and rolling you off his chest and onto your back beside him. He laced his arm over your side, handing you back your book that was once on his chest, nuzzling into your neck and pressing a soft kiss against your shoulder. “Let me know if you read something interesting enough to bother me with it.” 

Your mind was racing, knowing that he desired to leave the soft kiss at just that for now -  not desiring to dive into a flurry of: ‘what does that mean, what does that make us, how are we going to go about everything as if we didn’t just share a kiss’. You gulped back your racing thoughts and reopened your world discovery novel, choosing to ignore the tingle of his breath igniting your skin with gooseflesh. 

You do as you’re told, enjoying the warmth he was giving to you behind your body within the hammock. As you read further, you found something interesting regarding the metal and make of sword wielders in a distant land on the other side of the world. You turn in his arms, attempting to look at him over your shoulder as you ask him your question.

“Zoro?” you whisper softly, “Zoro, do you know anything about a country called ‘Wano’?” You turn to face him in his arms, noticing the heavy rise and fall of his broad chest before anything else. You gaze up into his face, his brow relaxed and his eyes clamped shut enough to indicate heavy sleep. 

Taking a moment to study his face, you allow yourself the luxury of giving in to the warmth in your face and simmered fluttering in your chest. These past few weeks of getting to know him further, and the soft kiss he placed against your lips and shoulder moments ago, had your mind running away with you. Taking a moment to appreciate his proximity, you realize there was truly nothing that could tear you away from this moment. 

Closing your book shut, you enjoy nuzzling into his chest and you press a soft kiss against the indent of Mihawk’s stab-wound over the swordsman’s heart. Eyes fluttering shut, you are ushered into a soft and blissful slumber within the cage of his body holding yours firmly against it. It does not take long until your breathing synchronizes, your dreams of what's to come on this next adventure a distant thought…

…Until the loud alert of your blonde chef wakes you from your slumber, his voice yelling a booming, “Dinner, moss-head! Get your idiot-ass down here and eat! Also, has anyone seen the Counsellor?” 

[torturingpeople]

this has made me realise i have also never stated my characters accents or speaking styles+habits...

player characters

edison: standard english with an accent somewhere between rp and estuary english. no contractions, but uses innuendo often and elongates his words for effect

harper: german accented standard english (sort of like lme) which mostly comes out in his inflections and the way he pronounces "th" and "w"

dove: northern accent with a heavy dialect and slang usage. but she can imitate a lot of other accents including rp, cockney, irish, french, american etc etc but her comfortable normal speaking accent is northern

freya: rp but contracts her words and uses slang and leans a tiny bit more into cockney when she's stammering/fumbling her words or swearing

non player characters

marie: standard english and a very old fashioned and overemphasised rp accent. trills her 'r's in a way she doesn't need to and puts a lot of effort into sounding "posh". also speaks in a quiet and lilting tone to entice the listener if you will

dionysia: english with some contractions but minimal slang and a southeast london accent. not quite essex but not exactly estuary english either. speaks quite quickly i.e. hurrying to get her words out, a lot of her speech lacks quality

rosier: transatlantic american/english accent and standard english. scarcely ever uses contractions. usually appends his sentences with a question i.e. "is it not?" or "are you not?" or fronts them with "why". very standard 'trad husband of the 20s' speech type

filip: polish accented standard english with contractions, and can be rather rude in his speech. one to swear and insult quite often

(bonus) vasily: russian accented broken english. refuses to learn standard english but also doesn't use contractions because he omits the article (i.e. "you are an idiot" becomes "you are idiot")

esther: essex/southeastern accent. can speak in rp/standard english if she wants and will do so in formal settings but at work or home her natural accent is between medway and essex

Realized I’ve never said what accents my Fallen London blorbos have—

Atlas: French + Northern (was more comfortable with French as a kid, learned to speak and pronounce English in the North but never really lost their first accent)

Thomas: RP

Carlo: South London

Agamemnon: Greek

[coke-vapor]

if there ever was to be a war against the gods, i don’t think anyone from pjo would be on their side, percy says he understands luke’s perspective in hoo and you can see parts of that in the choices he makes. after everything they’ve gone through at the hands of the gods? they’d never side with them again.

but the person i want to focus on is will.

will who lost everything in the first war, will who saw countless kids, his siblings die in that war. who was thrust into the role of camp counsellor at only 12 after witnessing michael and lee die only days before. will who saw even more kids die fighting gaea. will who saw jason grace, one of the bravest demigods hes ever met, die on a quest for his now-human once-god father. jason who after giving his entire life to the gods, got nothing in return. will who knows a drop of the pain nico, the person will loves with everything, has suffered because of the gods and their cruelty towards him, not to mention all he suffered indirectly because of them. will who went to tartarus, faced the trauma of it as well as being faced with his past and the losses he’s faced. will who survived as a child of apollo. that will. that will being so tired of seeing the pain and death caused by the gods, he simply… stops caring about the gods.

he’d still rather not use violence still. if theres a way to work it out without violence hed prefer that. but if the need comes will can be absolutely terrifying in a fight. no one expects will to be capable of pain, being the camps head healer and generally a kind person; until the same camp songs sung to sooth scared kids as their bones heal are now screeched at a ear shattering volume, using light to permanently blind without remorse, manipulating plagues to spread instead of heal. will is terrifying if he gets angry enough. if facing him, one is reminded that the sun is still a burning ball of gas, and not something to screw around with and neither is will solace. god forbid you lay a hand on someone will cares about. it will never be forgotten.

[littlejuicebox]

GINAAA MY GIRL!

Sending you a dadstarion prompt because you already know I LOVEEE your dadstarion content.

How did Tav find out she was pregnant with baby Gale? And how did Astarion react to the news?! Inquiring minds want to know.

To have and to hold.

Such a lovely prompt, my friend! Hope you like it!

Summary: Astarion turned mortal a few months ago, and this is his first-time experiencing illness of any kind. Unfortunately, as soon as he recovers, you start to show signs of sickness as well. Your condition is a bit different from his, though. (For more of this series check out the ‘Dadstarion’ section of my master list.)

Tags/Warnings: Dadstarion, domestic af, fluff, talk of illness, talk of vomiting, the mildest of angst with the mostest of comfort, pregnancy, etc.

A/N: I work in healthcare, not law, so I can’t guarantee the legalese is accurate lol.

Word count: 2.3K

-----

“Don’t come closer, darling, I’m disgusting.” Astarion groans from where you find him one morning, curled up on the bathroom floor.

It had been a few months since Gale of Waterdeep cast Wish, and from that moment until now the retired rogue had been a happy, healthy mortal. There were so many benefits to curing his vampirism that the elf never fully considered one of the major downsides… illness.

He’d never experienced a malady like this in his life. At least not in the one he could remember.

It’s horrible.

How had his little love or any of his friends endured this, more than once, in the past ten years?

Astarion is quite certain he contracted food poisoning from that questionable slab of salmon he ate at the Blushing Mermaid yesterday evening. He never did understand why you liked eating at that lowbrow tavern in the first place.

You crouch to examine your husband, pressing a soothing hand onto his forehead before running it down to cup his cheek.

“Astarion, my love, you have a fever.” You murmur, frowning with concern as you push sweaty curls from his face.

“Please make more obvious observations, dear,” Astarion gripes as he forces himself to sit up, still clutching his stomach. Gods, the vile churning in his gut is incessant.

He’s about to continue on with his quip, but the sudden urge to be sick forces the elf to shut up and scramble to the toilet. You hear the sounds of violent retching moments later.

“We are never going back to the Blushing Mermaid,” Astarion grumbles once the wave of illness subsides. His face is pressed against the toilet; all sense of decorum is gone. The rotten fish poisoning his insides won over any bits of pride he might have been clinging to.

You move to grab a wash rag, dampening it under the tap before kneeling back down by your husband.

“Poor thing,” You coo, folding the cloth in half before dabbing it against the back of Astarion’s neck, hoping to ease the fever.

The elf’s eyes flutter closed as he allows you to fawn over him for a moment. And then he groans and flicks his hand, palm faced downward, as if trying to shoo you away. His voice is hoarse when he says, “Just leave me here and go get ready for your meeting, darling. I’ll be fine.”

“In sickness and in health, remember?” You ask, running the cool cloth over Astarion’s face, causing him to sigh thankfully at the slight relief, “I’ll send word to the other Counsellors to inform them that I won’t be attending. You’ve never been ill before; I don’t want to leave you like this. Wyll can fill me in later.”

“Yes, ‘in sickness and in health’ and all that, darling, but those vows also included ‘until death do us part’ and I was an immortal vampire when we made them. So you were technically entering that verbal contract under false pretenses, which one could argue means it’s null and void. Go to the meeting, it’s—“

Astarion almost manages to finish his rambling legalese before more putrid liquid spews out of his mouth. When he’s finished vomiting, he whines again, any bit of stubborn resilience and feeble attempts at selflessness abandoned.

“On second thought, maybe you should stay here,” He says, his chest heaving with exertion as he clenches his eyes shut, “Please tell me you have a spell for this.”

“Unfortunately not, my love. I only have a spell for curses. Best I can do is half a bottle of Elixir of Health, some ginger-peppermint tea, and a bath.” You sigh, already crossing the bathroom on your way to the tub. You fiddle with the taps for a moment to start the bath and then begin to pour oils into the flowing water.

“Deal,” Your husband mutters, peeling off his sweat-soaked night shirt, “But none of that vile honey you got at the market here in town for my tea; I want the one Shadowheart and Lae’zel sent from Neverwinter.”

“Anything you say, Lord Ancunin.” You joke, rolling your eyes at your husband’s fussiness. He’d barely regained his sense of taste a few months ago and already favored upscale ingredients and meals, as if mortal food hadn’t been but ash in his mouth for two hundred years.

The elf glares at your insolence but doesn’t retort; he’s too busy trying to keep himself from vomiting again.

*

The following morning, Astarion wakes feeling much better. Practically brand new, in fact. It seems the potion and your strange flower child medicine must have done the trick. He sighs a breath of relief and then rolls to snuggle against you for a few more precious moments. He reaches his arms out and grasps at nothing but air.

The silver-haired elf immediately frowns and sits up. That’s exceptionally odd. You were not a morning person; you never had been in the ten years he’d known you. You always slept in longer than him, even in the wilds. On more than one occasion he’d had to lure you out of your nearly comatose slumber with the tempting smells of coffee and breakfast.

Astarion hears you gagging in the bathroom and goes to investigate. He soon finds you clinging to the toilet, practically mirroring how he looked the day prior.

“Oh no, little love, do you think you have food poisoning, too?” He questions, frowning slightly before kneeling down to press his hand against your forehead just like you’d done to him, “No fever, though.”

You whine, leaning into your husband’s hand before grumbling, “Damn the Blushing Mermaid straight to Stygia! Why do I even like that place, again?”

Astarion laughs, “I’ve been wondering the same thing for years, dear. I hope now you’ll finally reconsider. Do you want some tea and a bath?”

“Please,” You say, just before another wave of nausea hits you, forcing you to throw your head into the toilet and gag. Frustratingly, not much actually comes out despite the waves of sickness coursing through your body.

Gods, you wish you could simply vomit and feel relief.

Astarion begins to prepare the appropriate remedies, much like you’d done for him the day before. Thankfully, you seem to recover much faster than he did, and by midday you look and feel completely normal.

Good thing, too. You two were out of any elixirs that may have helped you had your ailment been as severe as Astarion's.

“Perhaps I’m just a better healer than you, darling.” The silver-haired elf teases as the two of you take afternoon tea in the sunroom.

“Perhaps I’m just stronger and more resilient than you, my love.” You retort, wrinkling your nose in jest at your husband.

He chuckles softly and then presses a kiss to your nose, “Agree to disagree.”

*

Astarion thinks the two of you are past this bit of bad luck, but when he wakes the following morning, he hears you retching once again.

When the elf finds you in the bathroom, appearing as almost an exact repeat of yesterday, though perhaps a bit worse, his brow furrows.

“Darling, I'm worried now. You look more ill than before. Perhaps we should take a trip to Jaheira? I can head to the apothecary for another Elixir of Health while she looks you over.” He murmurs gently, extending his hands to pull you to your feet.

You simply nod in agreement, too nauseated to do more than follow your husband’s lead as he slips you into a set of robes and ushers you into the carriage.

*

When Astarion returns to Jaheira’s after dashing out to the apothecary, he finds you sitting at the druid’s dining table. The two of you stop whatever hushed conversation you’d been having and turn to look at him in unison.

“Feeling any better, Tav?” He asks, coming to stand by your side before placing a worried hand upon your shoulder. You simply cover your hand with his and nod in response.

“Much better,” You say, flashing your husband a small smile. Something about your expression looks hazed, as if you’re stuck in a daydream. Poor thing, you're probably exhausted and experiencing brain fog.

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine with the teas and medicinals I’ve given you,” Jaheira assures, her eyes flickering between the two of you. She grins for the briefest moment before falling back into her typical, more serious demeanor.

Astarion swears he feels like something is off, but when he turns to give you a questioning look, you’re the picture of happiness as you sip from your tea cup, finishing it off.

Well, at least you’re doing what Jaheira has prescribed.

“What about the Elixir of Health I’ve just purchased?” Your husband asks, lifting the bag in his hand, “Will that help?”

“Oh, I recommend you keep it for something else. I don’t think Tav needs it for this,” The druid responds before standing, signaling it’s the end of the visit. She was always quite straight forward and lacking in certain genteel social graces, in Astarion’s opinion.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with the Harpers.”

You quickly bid your goodbyes and Astarion helps you back into the carriage, eager to get you back to bed so that you can sleep off the rest of this sickness.

*

Astarion notices you’re uncharacteristically quiet on the carriage ride home. He typically doesn’t mind when you’re in one of your pensive, stoic moods. But this illness of yours had him more anxious than usual and he had to know more about Jaheira’s examination results, if only to ease his own worries.

“Darling,” He starts, taking your hand in his. But you don’t seem to hear him; you’re still lost in your own little world.

“My love,” He says, this time a bit more urgently, squeezing your hand just enough to pull your attention to him, “What did Jaheira say, exactly? Did she mention how long this illness will last?”

“Oh, the nausea will probably go on for a few weeks,” You reply, a goofy, lopsided smile breaking across your face. You cannot stifle your grin at the little secret you know you’ll be unable to keep for more than a few moments longer.

“Weeks?” Astarion questions, his voice pitching up with worry and brows stitching together in concern.

Why in the hells are you smiling? What druid bullshit was in the tea Jaheira gave you?

He folds his arms across his chest, not at all pleased by the lack of seriousness you seem to display. The idea of you being sick for weeks makes his heart hurt and his stomach churn as if he’s still sick. He could never stand to see you uncomfortable.

“Tav, are you drugged? This is serious. I fail to see what there is to be smiling about right now. You’re going to be nauseous for weeks and you can’t use an Elixir of Health? Are you absolutely sure Jaheira even knows what she’s—“

“I’m pregnant, Astarion,” You interrupt, and you cannot help but to laugh at your husband as his mouth hangs open mid-sentence, frozen in shock.

He blinks for a moment or two, otherwise completely still as his brain rushes to process the new information.

When the elf finally regains his composure and finds his ability to speak, he shoots out a flustered, rambled, “Darling, I— I’m sorry, can you repeat that? I’m not certain I heard you correctly. The road is quite bumpy and the wheels of the carriage are loud— I think they need oil— and the horses—“

You laugh and firmly grasp your husband’s hand, wholly capturing his attention before murmuring, “You ridiculous elf. You heard me the first time. I’m pregnant, Astarion.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen a bigger grin cross your husband’s face.

“Tav, darling, I— gods, just come here to me.”

Astarion’s lips crash into yours, and he’s smiling into the kiss as he threads a hand through your hair, intent on pressing you closer into him. A tiny, delighted hum escapes your husband as he uses the kiss to express all the feelings he cannot yet put into words.

When he finally pulls away, he cups your face with his hands and peppers a few more kisses upon your lips.

“Is this your way of telling me you’re happy about this, Astarion?” You ask, grinning at your husband as he gazes upon you with the most besotted eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Thrilled, my love,” He whispers, before pressing forward to kiss you again, trying to convey the depth of his excitement with his affections. He doesn’t let go of you the rest of the way home, almost desperate to cover you in worshipful kisses, each one a little vow of love to you.

You notice he's unusually quiet, but then, he’s far too busy smiling and smooching to do much talking.

*

Later that evening, you move to get out of bed and head toward the bedchamber door.

“Ah, ah, ah. Where do you think you’re going, little love?” Astarion calls, already tossing his book aside to follow after you, “What do you need? Let me bring it to you.”

“I just wanted a cup of water, Astarion. I can go get—“ You start, but he quickly presses a kiss to your lips, effectively quieting you.

“Hush, my love. You’re still nauseated and you’re carrying very precious cargo.” He gently chastises as he turns you by your shoulders and steers you back toward the bed.

“You’re being dramatic,” You grumble, sitting back down in the bed and wrinkling your nose at your husband.

“Perhaps,” He agrees, grinning down at you as he gently folds the blankets back around your legs, “But you knew exactly the type of theatrics you signed up for when you married me, darling. 'To have and to hold, to love and to cherish' and all that, hm?”

And in that moment, Astarion was certain he’d never love and cherish anything more than you.

Nine months later, the little silver-haired newborn he held in his arms would prove him wrong.

[bullet-prooflove]

Broken Glass: Travis Wheatley x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @yousigned-upforthis @gatefleet @pansexualhailstorm

Companion piece to:

Texas - Travis and you make a realisation about your relationship.

Broken - Travis recieves a phone call from Rip regarding you and Malcom Beck.

Maui - Travis adds some extra security measures to your new place.

Colt 45 - Travis doesn't mess around when it comes to your saftey.

Ride - Travis lifts your mood by taking you for a ride.

Wet - You and Travis discuss something you've been avoiding.

Travis’s secret comes out in the worst way possible, during a fight about him fucking another woman.

You’ve been quiet over the last few days, more withdrawn than usual. Sleeping on the couch instead of coming to bed. He thinks it’s because of the counselling session you’d had earlier in the week. You’re confronting a lot of tough stuff through EDMR therapy and it can throw you off a little.

“I gotta shoot out for my physio appointment.” He tells you, picking up the keys to his truck from the side table in the living room and that’s when he hears you say.

“We both know you don’t have a physio appointment.”

He freezes in that moment, his entire body shifting to look to you. There’s a fire in your eyes he’s not seen in a long time as you stand over by the bookshelf with his things on,  your fingertips trail over the glass trophy from his latest competition. You flick it forward and it hurtles off the shelf smashing onto the hardwood floor sending glass skittering in every direction. The dog barks from outside but you ignore it, your gaze fixed on him.

“You have five more of these fucking things Travis.” You say tipping over the next one and the crash reverberates through the house. “And lot more shit that I can break, so why don’t you tell me who she is?”

“Gina honey, I promise you…”

And down goes the next one, exploding into a million pieces.

“You’re a liar.” You tell him with a ferocity he feels in the very depths of his bones. “I called your physio to pass on a message last week but they said you haven’t been going for months. So I’ll ask you again who the fuck is she?”

You reach for the crystal decanter then, the one that’s been in his family for five generations and that’s when he snaps.

“I’ve been seeing a counsellor.” He shouts with an edge of franticness to his voice because your hand is already wrapped around the heirloom, your arm slung back ready to hurl it at his head. “It’s not another woman, it’s a counsellor!”

“What?” You respond, lowering the decanter, the amber liquid sloshing around inside. “But you said…”

“I know I said that cowboys don’t do therapy but I was having some anxiety about leaving you alone with the new season coming up.” He confesses as he approaches you slowly with open palms as if you were a skittish horse. “I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t want to exacerbate the shit you’re already dealing with.” His hand clasps your wrist lightly, guiding it down so the decanter comes to rest safely back on the silver tray.

“When you say anxiety…” You begin and Travis releases you, rubs his palm over the nape of his neck.

“Panic attacks.” He tells you as he meets your gaze. “Whenever I think about leaving you, I get this tightness in my chest, my heart starts to palpitate and it feels like I can’t breathe.”

“Do you know…”

“Yea.” He tells you, his hands coming to rest on your hips, thumbs tracing soothing circles over as he swallows hard against the well of emotion in his chest. “I can’t get over what Malcolm Beck did to you, what I allowed him to do to you.”

You frown at his words and he purses his lips into a grim expression.

“The night you were attacked I was supposed to be there.” He reminds you, his voice rough. “But I wasn’t, I was in Texas licking my wounds because you decided to stay in Montana and I…” He trails off then forcing down the sob that threatens to erupt from his chest. “That choice, it haunts me because if I had stopped being such a prick there’s a chance that none of this would have happened.”

“Travis.” You whisper, cradling his face between your hands. “This would have happened whether you were here or not. Malcolm wasn’t the kind of man who can let his ex-wife be happy, it wasn’t in his nature.”

“But…”

“No buts. What happened to me is no more your fault than it is mine.” You tell, wrapping your arms around him, drawing him into your proximity. “And as for leaving me alone when you’re off showing the horses, that’s something we can work on, together. There’s steps we can take to make you feel more comfortable with it.”

Travis sighs, burying his face into the curve of your throat.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable with it.” He mumbles against your skin, cradling you close.

“We’ll work on it.” You reassure him, your fingers carding lightly through his hair. “I promise you, we will.”

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[mediumgayitalian]

Will wakes up to Pierce the Veil, this morning.

He buries his head in his pillow and screams as loud as he can.

Of course, it does nothing. The music is playing inside his head, because his father is the most annoying being ever to pop into existence. Apollo’s children get whatever song suits their father’s current mood — not a good sign that it’s emo today, fuck — blasted directly into their cranium as the sun crests over the horizon, every single day, just so they know how much their dear papa is thinking of them.

Will, however, is head counsellor. And as head counsellor, he gets his daily brain torture exactly one half hour before the sun rises, because fuck him, apparently.

Has he not been through enough.

He screams again, quieter this time, conscientious of his still-sleeping siblings. The song does not go away. It will not go away until he is on his feet, any chance of unconsciousness having swiftly betrayed him.

The creaky floorboards groan in protest as he slams onto them, not bothering to remove himself from his blankets before rolling onto the floor. He considers remaining there, in the fetal position, strangling himself in his tangled sheets, for twelve point three seconds. Then he remembers he has a stupid shift in the stupid infirmary that he stupid runs, and forces himself to get up.

“Being alive is a prison,” he laments hoarsely. It has, tragically, considerably less effect when there is no one awake to hear his complaints, because it is four forty-two in the godsdamn mcshitting fucking morning.

His father is not getting so much as a grape as an offering today. He’s going to scrape an entire plate for Auntie Artemis.

He takes an extra-long time brushing his teeth, spitefully determined to be two minutes late for his shift. No one will notice, because no one is awake. The thought soothes him.

Nine minutes to his shift, he forces himself out of the bathroom and pads over to his dresser. He has no surgeries planned, today, so he’s not gonna bother with the scrubs, and he’s gotta do inventory, so he needs pockets. He picks out his head medic shirt and his lucky cargo shorts and starts to dress himself, squeezing his eyes shut to try and force his muscles into keeping him awake. He can do this. It’s fine. He’s got training with Nico today, so that’s something he can look forward to. If he can distract Kayla and her teasing mouth with training Gracie, he can ogle all he pleases as the son of Hades attempts, for the ninetieth time, to teach him how to use a sword without beheading himself. It’ll be great.

He barely manages to swallow back a shriek when he misses the leg hole for his shorts and goes sprawling.

Fuck mornings. This is an omen. He should go the fuck back to sleep.

As if hearing his thoughts, the stupid song in his head blasts louder. It’s hard to make out the words with all the screaming and drums and all, but he’s almost certain he hears the lyrics, don’t you dare!

“Al-right,” he snaps, scowling. “I’m going, I’m going. Lemme get my damn shirt on, yeesh.”

It takes him a second to find the head hole in the dark — because the godsdamn sun is not up yet — but after a minute of fumbling he manages.

He realizes, the second he tugs it over his chest, that something is wrong.

“What the —”

Now, Will orders his shirts in bulk. He has to. He’s the only one wearing them, after all, and the sheer amount of times per day that he is covered in bodily fluids is a number he chooses, for sake of his sanity, not to count. He is well used to the process of ordering his shirts along with other linen and infirmary supplies. Every fortnight, without fail, he orders a set of orange Head Medic t-shirts one size too big, because it gives him a little breathing room without being too baggy.

When he pulls on this shirt, however, it practically clings to his skin. He can practically feel the fabric groaning as it stretches over his broad shoulders.

And, worst of all — the hem barely brushes the edge of his ribcage.

“Austin,” he growls, practically lunging for his drawer to inspect the rest of them.

As he suspected, each one of them has shrunk. If it weren’t for the Head Medic decal printed across them in bold, Will would assume his laundry was mixed up with Yan’s.

“Why do I still try to assign him laundry duty,” he hisses, cursing himself for his oversight. He’s been busy lately — he didn’t do a very thorough job writing this week’s chore chart. He must’ve put Austin on laundry, and Austin is never allowed to do laundry, because for whatever reason, no matter what he does, he ruins someone’s clothes.

“Fuck!”

His watch beeps at him, LED display reading five o’clock. His shift has already started. All of his shirts are shrunk, and he’s out of time.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He shoves his feet into a pair of flipflops, sprinting for the infirmary. Hopefully, today is on the warmer side, or else he’s going to freeze, on top of looking ridiculous. Fuck.

———

Thankfully, the first couple hours of his shift are blissfully empty and quiet. With no one to distract him, he manages to finish the laundry list of chores he’s been putting off the last week — nectar and ambrosia restock, cabinet reordering, file sorting, et cetera. He has the place spick and span in under ninety minutes.

Unthankfully, he starts to get bored fast.

Feeling an awful lot like his father, which is unfortunate, he begins to slip into what his siblings call “the dramatics” (and what Will calls rational emotional responses, but, take some, lose some). Without his permission, he begins to glance at the door every few minutes, disappointed every time no one is there. He spins around his desk chair, kicking half-heartedly at the desk. He sighs, once or twice, with a tone that he would call tastefully bored and Lou Ellen might label as histrionic. After a half hour, there is on his face, Will cannot deny, a pretty big pout.

In his defense, he can hear the sounds of the rest of the camp waking up through the open windows: laughter, cursing, yawning, Drew chasing her siblings around the camp with her knife, shrieking, promises to return stolen hair straighteners, begging for mercy. Morning sounds. Familiar sounds.

“Ugh,” he mumbles, sinking back into his chair. Then, for good measure, he frowns harder and repeats with more feeling: “Ugh.”

As if summoned by his yearning, disparaging loneliness, the little bell by the door rings as someone stumbles in. Will brightens, jumping to his feet.

“Hi!

“Hey, Will, could I get some ambrosia, Sebastian stole Drew’s straightener and she — woah.” Mitchell freezes. “Um. Woah. Huh?”

Will rushes over to the supply cabinet. “Yeah, of course! I heard the screeching, did she stab him fully or just slash him? Should I come over? Should he come here?”

“Hnngh,” Mitchell says.

Will frowns, hands stilling on the ambrosia. “Mitchell? Are you okay?” He tilts his head. “You’re — really red, dude, maybe you should —”

“I! Hngh! Am fine!” Mitchell shouts, scrambling back from Will’s outstretched hand. He won’t meet Will’s eyes. “Actually, Will, you know what? Sebastian needs to learn, actually, and he’s barely even bleeding, so I’m gonna —” He stumbles backwards, knocking his head into the doorframe. “I’m just going to! You keep that, Will, I’ll chest you — see! I will see you later! Goodbye!”

He turns away and flees, leaving Will alone, again, with a container of ambrosia hanging limply in his fingers.

“That was weird,” he mumbles, and turns to put it back away.

———

Mitchell is far from the first Incident — capitalised, because they are indeed Incidents — of the day.

Maybe a half hour after Mitchell leaves, two more Aphrodite campers walk in. Will smiles, turning to greet them, but before he can even say anything, they shriek in unison and sprint off. As silly as he knows it is, a bubble of hurt begins to bloom in his chest — is everyone actually avoiding him today? Or does it just feel like they are?

(The ADHD makes it hard to tell. He gets his feelings hurt really easily, and constantly has to remind himself what is and isn’t rejection. It doesn’t help that he sometimes feels trapped, as one of the only campers with vitakinesis and therefore constantly in the infirmary. It’s hard not to feel a little isolated. But usually, he’s got his friends and his siblings to remind him he’s not alone. Hopefully, today is just a fluke.)

Nobody else comes into the infirmary during breakfast. Will eats the oatmeal one of the nymphs brings him, smiling at her and thanking her profusely — he hadn’t realized how hungry he was. She leaves pretty quickly, too, but a lot of the nymphs are kinda squeamish around the infirmary, so Will doesn’t think too much of it. In fact, he‘s put most of his shitty morning behind him until Kayla walks in for the start of her shift.

“Huh,” she says, after a solid minute of staring.

Will shifts defensively. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Just preparing for our day, brother dear, pay no mind.”

“You are so strange,” he mutters, but he’s long since given up on trying to understand her.

For the next hour, things are almost normal. He and Kayla chat as the freshen up the linen on the cots, treating the odd camper who comes in for lava wall burns or sword scrapes. The infirmary is rarely ever empty once the camp activities start, but in terms of numbers, today’s a pretty slow day. Will starts to feel fidgety pretty quickly.

“Oh, ho ho ho.”

Will grins when he hears his friend’s voice, shoving his clipboard aside and standing to greet them. Lou Ellen and Cecil linger by the door, matching grins on their faces. (Which, usually, would be cause for great alarm, but Will is so bored and so happy to see them that he decides, just this one time, that whomever they’ve just robbed will just have to be an unfortunate victim. Hopefully it wasn’t anything too valuable.)

“Hey, guys! Please tell me you can stay for a bit. I’ve still got a few hours left of my shift and I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Of course we’ll stay, Willy,” Cecil says innocently. “How could we refuse with such a wonderful view?”

Will is too happy to bother correcting him about his name.

There’s not much to do, so the three of them sit by the nurse’s station and chat. If anyone asks, they’re talking strategy for the upcoming capture the flag game, but really, Lou Ellen heard Damien White from Nike and Chiara Benvenuti from Tyche arguing behind the canoe shed again, so they’re talking shit.

“I honestly don’t get what she sees in him,” Lou Ellen whispers, and Will is nodding fervently, “Right? I mean if she’s happy then good for her, obviously, but come on —”

“Hey, Will?”

Will leans around Cecil, looking for who called him. A group of maybe nine campers crowd around the door, all standing behind one of Cecil’s sisters, Julia. Many of them are giggling.

“We, uh, totally need your help.”

“Here we go,” mutters Cecil. Lou Ellen starts snickering.

Will hardly hears them, absentmindedly grabbing his stethoscope and toolkit.

“What happened? Was there a fight, do you need —”

“Rosamie’s leg is, like, super sprained.” Julia gestures to a younger girl behind her. “We got her this far, but she needs you to lift her to a cot so she can rest.”

“Hermes’ fucking wings,” Cecil says under his breath.

“O….kay,” Will says slowly. “Did you…all need to come for that?”

“My heartbeat is all weird,” pipes up a boy from the back. “I need you to look at that.”

“And I need a band-aid!”

“I broke a nail.”

Their voices start clambering over each other, rapidly getting louder. Will holds up a hand, silencing them.

“Okay, okay, I hear you. If you’re fine to walk, head on over to a cot, I’ll be with you in a minute. Julia, can you help Rosamie —”

“Can’t,” blurts Julia quickly. She holds up her arm after a beat if hesitation. “Totally pulled a muscle. You’ll have to carry her.”

Will furrows his brow. It’s Mitchell all over again.

“Okay, I guess.”

Unwilling to have a group of campers loitering by the doorway any longer, Will gets it over with, scooping up Rosamie with a hand under her knees and behind her back and carrying her to the nearest cot. Will knows that everyone experiences pain differently, but she seems awfully giggly for someone whose leg is apparently sprained.

A cacophony of giggles erupt as he sets her down.

“Gods, Will, do you work out?”

Will flushes. “I do the same training as everyone else, I guess.”

“Cool.”

Will looks at them strangely. How is that cool? He glanced back at his friends, eyebrows raised, but they’re hunched over the station, badly biting back laughter.

“Maybe everyone’s got the flu, or something?” he mutters to himself, even though he knows that’s not true.

He makes quick work of healing the group of campers. Most of them are fine — he couldn’t even find a sprain on Rosamie, but wrapped her knee anyway in case there was more pain. They left as quickly as they came, giggling to each other and running down the porch.

Without even a minute between, another group of campers barged in, just as giggly as the first.

The rest of his shift is chaotic. People practically pour into the infirmary, all with minor, barely there injuries — and all of them demand Will’s help.

Will is no stranger to busy days, but this is nothing he’s ever seen.

“I don’t get it,” Will remarks to his sister in a rare minute of calm, totally bewildered. “It’s like everyone’s suddenly got glass bones.”

Kayla blinks at him. He stares back at her, wide-eyed.

“Yeah,” she drawls, after a minute. She looks him up and down. “What a deeply confounding mystery this is.”

Twelve campers rush in before he can ask her what she’s talking about.

By the time Will manages to escape, it’s an hour past the end of his shift, and he’s crawling out the window in the back office of the Big House to avoid the crowd of people at the front door.

“Solace? What are you doing?”

Will yelps, losing his delicate balance and falling face first into the flowerbed. Low, raspy laughter curls around the air, and Will goes bright red.

“Just let me pass away,” he mutters, curling around a crushed daisy.

Nico snorts. “You are such a drama queen. Here.”

After another quick second of wallowing, Will takes his offered hand, letting him pull him to his feet. His shorts are smeared in dirt and there are flowers in his hair. Frantically, and uselessly, he tries to brush himself off.

“…Damn,” says Nico slowly. When Will chances a peek, he finds his friend looking him over, slowly dragging his eyes from head to toe. If at all possible, he goes even redder. “So it is true. You are walking around half-naked today.” Nico grins, wide and wolfish and teasing, and Will genuinely has to grab the wall behind him to keep upright. “No wonder the rest of camp has been so empty.”

“Is that what it is?” Will cries. “The infirmary has been — packed! All day! And no one has been hurt! They’ve been — they came for —”

“I think they came to watch the show, Solace.”

Will lets out an agonised wail. Alongside the flush so bright it puts his father’s cows to shame, he feels himself start to glow, like an flaming beacon of idiot.

“They’ve been demanding I carry them around places!” He looks at Nico, aghast. “I’ve been doing it!”

For a moment, Nico tries bravely and valiantly to keep a straight face. But then Will remembers the camper who told him he lost feeling in his hands and asked Will to hold his biceps to try and get them back, and his face must absolutely crumple in mortification, because Nico loses it.

“Zeus, Hera, and Hades,” he gasps, doubled over. “Oh my gods, Will, your face, you —” He cracks up again. Genuine tears pour down his face. Sometimes he manages to calm himself down, but then all he has to do is look at Will’s horrified grimace and he breaks down again, until he is literally writhing on the ground, holding his stomach.

“Oh — oh gods, I’m gonna — I think I’m gonna throw up —”

“I hope you choke on it,” Will says hotly. “I won’t help you. I will let you die. You’re a horrible friend.”

Nico shrieks again. Will has never seen him laugh this hard, ever, which is wildly unfair because he’s been practicing jokes with Piper in an attempt to see him smile more often, and this is what finally gets him?

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t, Solace,” Nico sighs, finally starting to calm down for real. The smile on his face doesn’t go anywhere. “Help me up.”

Will pouts. “Whatever.” He should leave Nico there to rot, but he reluctantly clasps their palms together and yanks him upright. He goes to pull away, but Nico squeezes his wrist, holding fast.

Will stares at him with wide eyes. Slowly, his wide smile thins into a crooked, downright dangerous smirk.

Will goes weak at the knees.

“I know you’re going to go get a bunch of new shirts immediately,” he murmurs, and honestly, who gave him the right to a voice like that? Huh? Who did Will piss off? What does he need to do to make amends? “But, well.” He glances down, then back up, smirk widening. “If you wanted to wear that shirt when you’re ogling at me during training, I wouldn’t mind. Might even the playing field.”

And then, because the gods actually hate him, Nico winks. He lets go of Will’s wrist and saunters off without another word, idly swinging his sword as he whistles.

Will crawls back into the flower bed, face plants in the dirt, and yells for ten whole minutes.

[lavenderstobins]

robin and vickie try so, so hard to make things work. vickie’s sweet, and she’s funny, and she’s kind, and robin likes her, but— she doesn’t know. 

she doesn’t understand why robin flinches away when she throws her arms around her unexpectedly. she doesn’t get why robin goes quiet some days, or stares off into space a lot. she wakes up to robin’s screaming in the night, and when she tries to hold her robin starts sobbing. 

vickie doesn’t know what to do. she tries to help—she WANTS to help—but she doesn’t know how. steve is always around, and robin gets panicky if she can’t reach him. robin always seems to scan the room before she walks into it. robin has scars decorating her skin that she won’t talk about. vickie kisses her freckles, her scars, her tear-stained cheeks. it’s not enough. she can’t help her. she can’t fix this. 

she tries, anyway. she plans out dates and kisses her in secret and is gentle in the bedroom. she holds robin when she cries and soothes her during nightmares and sits beside her when she calls steve at 4am. 

it’s exhausting. vickie likes robin, and she wants to help her, but… she’s only eighteen herself. she’s not a therapist. she’s not a counsellor. she likes robin, but it’s so much work, and it’s so taxing. robin looks guilt-ridden every time. it breaks her heart.

when robin breaks up with her, she’s secretly relieved. robin apologises, again and again, but vickie understands. really, she does. robin’s gone through things that she could never begin to understand or help, and it’s too much for them to be together. she’s not mad or upset. she wants the best for robin, genuinely. 

she goes off to college, and notices robin stays behind in hawkins. she meets a nice girl in her classes, and she doesn’t wake up to screaming anymore. she doesn’t kiss tear-stained cheeks. she feels guilty for being relieved. 

she visits hawkins a year later, when her brother graduates high school. she catches up with some old friends. she goes to the diner, and she sees robin, sitting with steve, and eddie munson, and nancy wheeler. 

nancy’s watching robin as she talks, and vickie recognises the expression on her face. she can see the love in her eyes, the way their hands are hidden under the table. vickie isn’t upset. how could she be? all she’s ever wanted for robin is happiness. nancy had always looked so sad in school. she thinks that they needed each other, maybe. 

vickie watches them talk, a soft smile on her face, and she hopes more than anything that they’re giving each other what she couldn’t give. 

she hopes that they’re happy. they deserve it.

[torturingpeople]

harper is getting a lamp cat after fruits of the zee ok? it will be his therapy cat and he will call it angioletto and they will be best friends in the whole wide world

original image under the cut

[ringo-ichigo]

Prayer of Thanks for Healing

Praise to Apollon Paean, The God of blessed healing. Thanks to Him for His kindness, For setting aside His quiver Of wicked arrows dipped in disease In favor of working Besides His son Asklepios Iatrus. Their mercy on us mortals is beyond measure Ensuring the illnesses do not claim More than their due lot. Apollon Proupsius, You Who see the future, You ensure that Zeus’s and the Morai’s will is enacted As they have deemed best And keeping our mortal threads unbroken.

Praise to Asklepios Iatrus, The one time mortal healer, Now immortal and divine physician. Son of Apollon and Koronis, Mortals are forever in Your debt For Your unfailing sympathy. You who once knew the weight of mortality Understand our pains too well. When disease renders us weak, You, Asklepios Epius, are there To soothe the aches of our bodies And to guide them back to health. With Your daughters and father, You watch over our struggling bodies And bring them strength and healing. Under Your care, we rest peacefully Until we are hale and whole again.

Praise to Zeus Moiragetes, King upon might Olympos, Leader of the Fates. For You watch over Your daughters And ensure our days Are never less than What Lachesis measured But never more than Atropos allowed for us. In Your hands, our lives are preserved For the just amount of time Even when it pains You to see Our destined fate come at last. Just is Your rule, Even when we may feel otherwise, For You see all With the wisest counsellors At Your side to advise You.

I praise all these Gods and more For Their kindness, guidance, and healing In my time of need. When disease came upon me, You ensured that my life was preserved And my good health returned to me. My thanks pours out in Endless written praise for You And the wine I offer. Khaire, and may my worship Ever please You, beloved ones, Until my last breath.

[doodle-pops]

Cruel Summer Love

Erestor x reader

Request: Hi! I saw that you were taking requests! this is the first time I've done this so i think i am doing it right. I was wondering if you would be willing to write an Erestor x Reader enemies to lovers fic? If you need more info or anything let me know! :) I love your blog <3 - Anon

A/N: Another attempt at an enemies-to-lovers AU, and I hope I scored well with this also. Enjoy!

Warnings: enemies to lovers, witty banter and snarky remarks

Words: 1.6k

Synopsis: When your summer trip to Rivendell takes a turn and causes a clash with the Chief Counsellor, you find yourself in a begrudging truce, slowly leading to a change of heart.

The halls of Rivendell gleamed with the soft ethereal light of early summer morning, the song of distant waterfalls creating a serene symphony. It was a place of timeless beauty and serene tranquillity, where the soft rustling of leaves and the gentle flow of the Bruinen River created a haven of peace. Yet, beneath the tranquil surface, a tension simmered—a tension that seemed to follow you everywhere. And its source? Erestor, Chief Counsellor of Lord Elrond.

You had arrived in Rivendell several months ago, an emissary from Lothlórien. Your diplomatic mission was meant to be a peaceful collaboration, yet from the moment you met Erestor, sparks flew—and not in the pleasant kind. His cold and calculating eyes seemed to judge your every move, every word. The way his voice dripped with condescension when he addressed you, always finding flaws in your plans, drove you to the brink of madness.

Today was no different. Seeking solace, you found yourself wandering into the grand library’s vast collection, pouring over ancient texts in search of a solution to a recent border skirmish. The tranquil ambience did little to soothe your frustration.

Pulling a scroll from a high shelf and settling into a secluded corner, the tranquillity was short-lived. His presence, commanding as ever, entered the room and ushered to his desk. As he made careful steps, he paused upon seeing you, a frown creasing his brow.

“Are you following me now?” you snapped, more out of exhaustion than anger at the possible argument of the rise.

“This is my domain,” he replied icily. “if anyone is an intruder here, it is you.”

You turned your attention back to the scroll, determined to ignore him, but the words blurred before your eyes. you could feel his gaze lingering on you, a mixture of disdain and something else—curiosity, perhaps?

“Must you handle those so carelessly?” Erestor’s voice was a cold reprimand, slicing through the quiet.

You glared at him; your patience had worn thin. “If you didn’t insist on micromanaging every little detail, perhaps we could finish this task sometime before the next Age.”

Erestor’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, instead, he focused on his own work, though his mind kept drifting back to your grip on the scrolls, your defiant stance and the fire in your eyes. Then, his voice cut through the quiet, his presence like a dark shoulder over your shoulder. “That document is irrelevant.”

You stiffened, refusing to turn and face him. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion, Counsellor.”

He rose from his desk and moved to stand beside you, too close for your liking. His scent, a mix of parchment, peppermint oil and something uniquely him, filled your senses. “And yet, here I am, offering it. This is a matter of great importance, one that requires more than a cursory glance at outdated and delicate texts.”

Your grip on the scroll tightened. “Unlike you, I believe in understanding history before making decisions that affect lives.”

Erestor scoffed. “Understanding history is one thing, being paralysed by it is another. If you would stop dwelling on the past—”

“And start making reckless decisions like you?” you snapped, finally meeting his gaze. His dark eyes flashed with anger, but beneath it, you thought you saw something else—something softer, more vulnerable.

“You presume much, diplomat,” he spat, his voice dangerously low.

“And you presume too little,” you shot back. “Perhaps if you spent less time criticising others and more time considering their perspectives, we might actually make progress.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you, taut and heavy. Then, to your surprise, Erestor sighed and ran a hand through his long, silky, dark hair. “Perhaps there is merit to your words,” he admitted reluctantly.

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden shift. “Excuse me?”

He glanced at you, a hint of a remorseful smile playing at his lips. “I am saying that you might be right. We have been at odds since your arrival, but perhaps we both seek the same goal.”

Your heart skipped a beat. This was the first time he had shown anything other than disdain. “Are you suggesting a truce?”

“Of sorts,” he muttered. “If we are to resolve this conflict, we must work together, not against each other.”

You studied his face, searching for any signs of deceit, but found none. Reluctantly, you nodded. “Agreed. For the sake of our people.”

Days turned into weeks, and slowly, the nature of your interactions began to change. The barbed comments and icy glares gave way to the civil discourse and even, on rare occasions, laughter. You discovered that beneath the Chief Counsellor’s aloof exterior lay a sharp mind and dry wit that could rival your own.

One evening, as you worked late in the library, you felt a presence behind you. Turning, you found Erestor watching you, his expression inscrutable. “Can’t sleep?” you asked, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest.

He shook his head. “I find myself restless. You?”

“These texts are proving more elusive than I anticipated,” you admitted, gesturing to the piles of scrolls and books.

Erestor stepped closer, his eyes scanning the documents. “May I?”

You nodded, and he took a seat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. For a while, the two of you worked in companionable silence, the only sounds were the rustle of parchment and the occasional murmur of agreement. As the hours passed, you found yourself stealing glances at him, noticing the way the candlelight played on his features, softening the hard lines of his face. You realised, with a start, that your feelings for him had shifted. The animosity had given way to something deeper, something you were not ready to name.

“Thank you.” Your voice broke a long silence with a soft whisper.

He looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes. “For what?”

“For this,” you gestured to the workspace you shared. “For helping me. For seeing me as more than just your adversary.”

Erestor smiled a genuine smile that made your heart ache. “And thank you for challenging me. It has been…refreshing. Not many are brave nor bold to step to my level.”

The air between you seemed to change, charged with an unspoken tension. You wondered if he felt it too, if he sensed the shift in your relationship. As if reading your mind came naturally, Erestor reached out his hand to cover yours. The touch was light and tentative, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Perhaps we are more alike than we thought,” he said quietly.

“Your breath caught in your throat. “Indeed, perhaps we are…”

In the days that followed, the tentative truce between you blossomed into something more profound. You found yourself gravitating towards each other, seeking the other’s company even outside of your shared duties. The camaraderie that had once been a reluctant necessity now felt like a vital part of your lives.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling meeting with Lord Elrond, you and Erestor found yourselves alone in the gardens. The night was cool, the stars were twinkling above, casting a serene glow over Imladris.

“Walk with me?” Erestor suggested, his voice softer than usual.

Nodding, together you strolled through the winding paths, the scent of blooming flowers filling the air and the sound of tinkling laughter in the distance could be heard. Nonetheless, the silence between you was comfortable—each lost in your thoughts. Finally, Erestor was the first to stop walking and turned to face you. “There is something I need to say,” he began in a serious tone.

“What is it?” you asked with a slight skip in your heartbeat.

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. “I have been a foll. I let my pride and prejudice blind me to what was right in front of me. You.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he held up a hand, stopping you.

“Let me finish,” he begged. “I see now how wrong I was, how my arrogance and fear drove a wedge between us. But in these past weeks, I have come to respect you, to admire you. And more than that, I have come to care for you deeply.”

Your breath hitched, emotions swirling within you. “Erestor…”

He stepped closer to bridge the gap, his hand reaching out to cradle your cheek. “I know I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I am asking for it anyway. I am asking for a chance to prove that I can be more than your adversary.”

“You started off as the worst thing I could have ever encountered during my time here,” you began, watching keenly at his sheepish grin, “making my days unbearable, until they weren’t.”

Erestor laughed softly, dipping his head to hide the look of humour. “I know this, and I deeply apologise for the trouble I have caused.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you placed your hand over his. “You already have,” you breathed. “And I…I care for you too. More than I ever thought possible.”

A look of relief washed over his face, and he took the opportunity to lean in cautiously, his forehead resting against yours. “Then perhaps, we can start anew. As allies, as friends…and maybe something more.”

Smiling through your tears, you nodded. “Yes,” you whispered. “Yes, Erestor. I would like that very much.”

Utilising the opportunity granted, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and filled with the promise of new beginnings.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life

[trancylovecraft]

(AOEX) The Blood Of An Unwilling Covenant

PART 2 OF 8: Amaimon

(Yandere Platonic Demon Kings (Ba'al) x Reader)

SERIES SUMMARY:

BARISTA'S NOTE: heres amaimons part!! :D GENDER: Femme FANDOM: Blue Exorcist

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LAST PART ,AO3 LINK, SERIES MASTERLIST, NEXT PART

"[F/N], If you could just think about it for a second.." The counsellor said, Resetting the devil-horn glasses upon her face.

The hum of the fluorescent lights above her droned into [F/N]'s ear like a cicada, The equally annoying rotations of the fan not doing much to soothe her headache either. It wasn't just the noise too but also the uncomfortably designed office chair that she lazed on, Digging into her back.

She was sat within the office of the youth centre's counsellor's office. A room with cool grey walls decorated with motivational posters with smiling faces and overly-positive quotes, Sunlight shining through the shutters onto the polished wooden floorings being the only lighting in here.

The counsellor herself was a rather dim looking woman with dark hair tied into a tidy bun, One that was as clean cut as the tailored grey suit she wore. Her posture straightened and perfect, Green eyes staring at her from behind the red rims of her pointed glasses.

A caring woman, One that meant the best at heart. Not in it for the money but certainly from a place of love and meaning. Though that didn't much to lighten [F/N]'s mood.

She sat lying upon the uncomfortable build of the chair, Much older than she was back then with her legs spread out and her arms folded in. She was sunken into her chair, Like she had just woken up from a nap upon it. Yet her eyes were wide open and rolled at the woman's words.

"I don't want to, No way." [F/N] huffed as she kicked her feet lightly at the desk of the counsellor. Whose red lipstick turned down into a frown as she sat in her office chair, Clicking her pen.

"There are families out there who want to adopt you, [F/N]. This couple seems to be a really good pick, High income and already have children of their own. They're interested in taking you in, Dear." The counsellor said, Sliding over a pamphlet towards [F/N].

[F/N] picked it up but she barely looked at it, Running her eyes over the information put down before huffing and pushing it back down.

"Yeah they seem lovely. But I don't care, I don't want to be adopted. I've got stuff to do here and it said there that they live all the way in Nagano." [F/N] explained, Almost exasperated as if it was the thousandth time she'd explained it. Tossing her head to the side and folding her arms once more.

The counsellor sighed, Looking down towards the top of her desk.

"[F/N].. I understand how you feel. Tetsuya's death was hard on all of us, But you need to understand that it was a wil-"

"IT WASN'T A WILD ANIMAL!" [F/N] slammed her fists down onto the table, Finally leaning up from her chair and staring daggers into the startled counsellor.

It stood for what seemed like minutes, Eyes connected to each other. The fire burning in [F/N]'s eyes however shook when she suddenly sighed, Then slumped over back into her chair.

The counsellor gulped, Making sure her glasses were in place before speaking once more.

"..I apologise, I shouldn't of brought it up.." She started, Shaking her head. "But I worry about you, [F/N]. You keep going out into those woods and barely spend any time here anymore, Not to mention your ramblings to your peers.."

[F/N] tossed her head to the side in a rather juvenile display, Her nose scrunched up in disgust at what she said.

"No one ever believes me.. It wasn't a wild animal.. It just wasn't. You seen the autopsy, You can't say that it was some starving bear!" [F/N] exclaimed, Raising her arms into the air before flopping them back down to emphasise her point.

"There isn't any other explanation for it. Those woods do tend to be bursting with all sorts of animals and besides, What else could it be?" The counsellor said, Brushing off the shoulder-pads.

[F/N]'s face hardened, A solemn look washing across her face as she leaned over on her chair. Eyes dead-set on the eyes of the woman opposite of her as she spoke.

"A demon. A demon killed Tetsuya." She whispered as quiet as the morning wind. Her eyes furious and determined, A kind of fire burning through them as her stone-cold face mumbled those words.

The counsellor sighed, Nodding as if she had heard those words a thousand times before. She shuffled as few papers on her desk, Aligning them well before setting them beside her in finality.

"..There is no such thing as demons, [F/N]." She spoke quietly. "What you saw out there was traumatising, Yes.. But blaming it on some imaginary creatures won't do you any good." The counsellor said, Seeming to put a firmer foot down as she leaned over to meet [F/N] face to face.

[F/N]'s jaw clenched shut, Leaning back over into her chair with a rigid back. Her clenched fists shook, Trying her best not to act on what she was so tempted to do.

She mumbled something under her breath. The counsellor blinked, Leaning forward.

"What was that?" She asked, Tilting her head.

"DEMONS EXIST AND THEY KILLED TETSUYA! WHY WON'T ANYONE BELIEVE ME?!" [F/N] screamed suddenly, Jerking up from her seat and snapping at the woman's face. The counsellor yelped, Jolting back into her office chair.

[F/N] got up from her chair, Not even bothering to look at the startled woman as she slung her bag over her shoulder and started to storm out of the room. An angry march as the counsellor recomposed herself.

"[F/N]! Where are you going..?!" She called out, Watching as the girl didn't even falter as she walked off towards the door. [F/N] didn't turn back to face her, Only gripped the fake gold of the door handle.

"I'm getting out of here, Can't breathe clear in this stupid place.." She hissed lowly before yanking the door open and marching out of the counsellors office. Door slamming shut with a thump.

And then, She was alone.

[F/N] stood dead within the empty hall, After storming out and slamming the door she didn't really have a destination to go to. So she stayed put, Looking at the sunlight pouring in through the windows lining the long hall, Almost appreciating it.

She couldn't go back to her room, That was a pigsty. It was always infested with insects crawling about and no matter how much bug spray she used, They never seemed to leave her in peace. So that was a no go.

The playrooms, The little library, The kitchens or the TV room where she spent countless days in front of the screens. None of them seemed appealing anymore. What use to be the apple in Eden was nothing but a rotting core now, So disgusting and unappetizing.

It was suppose to be a leisure, A relaxation.

But it never was anymore, It just couldn't be.

Not without Tetsuya.

[F/N] clicked her tongue, Sighing a short breath. The air here was too stuffy, Too suffocating to be called oxygen. She needed to go somewhere that's fresher, Somewhere she could properly think.

So her legs drove her forward. Through the long winding corridors, Past all the colourful fliers pinned up on the corkboard, All the doors with pleasantries and laughing hiding behind them were discarded in favour of the reception.

The dreary old woman sitting at the desk didn't even look up from her trashy magazine as [F/N] stormed by, Not even bothering to take a glance at who was leaving through the double glass doors. The little bell chiming above not helping her case.

As soon as she was out, [F/N] was hit with the brisk brush of the air against her skin. Her hair lifting lightly at the sensation as she was met with the mid-day sun, The celestial body shining down at her so happily from it's cobalt throne.

[F/N] couldn't feel the same as her shoes tapped against the stone tiles leading up to the youth centre doors. There wasn't anyone else about apart from the insects crawling about in the bushes or the tiles lining the centre's perimeter.

She reached the point where the stone tiles met the bare pavement, Splitting off into three streams. Though instead of travelling down one she made her way to the rickety old bench lining one of the pavements, Plopping down with the wood creaking at her weight.

"Finally.." [F/N] mumbled to herself as she was finally blessed with the fresh atmosphere. A relief as she took in the invigorating air, A moment of solitude rarely found in her everyday life and one she wanted to take in for a moment.

It was quiet too, This street wasn't as busy since it wasn't as close to the city centre. Few cars passed by to cause any noise, The only sound coming from the fenced off park parallel from the youth centre, The sound of children laughing playing basketball her only white noise.

That was good, There wasn't anyone about to see her next act.

[F/N] hummed as she shoved her hand in her side bag, Fishing around the abundance of objects stored inside before she felt the soft touch of a pretty pink pouch grace her fingers. [F/N] smiled, Pulling it out.

"Better have some left.." [F/N] muttered, And she thought she did. As she unlaced the string that opened the pouch she was met with the face of several cigarettes, A stolen item she had snuck from one of the staff's lockers.

All of them were coloured differently, Rolled in vivid paper.

Watermelon, Grape, Candy Floss and Bubble-gum were only a few of their flavours. They were cool, That's what she thought anyways. Even though she didn't watch TV that much anymore, All the super-cool adults on there always had one of these hanging from their mouth.

Well, Not the flavoured ones like she had. But she didn't like the taste of tobacco, So the taste of sugar and sweetness would have to do.

"Three.. Two.. One.." [F/N] counted down, The cold lighter on her other hand sparking up with a rasping ember. The cigarette in her other, A favoured watermelon flavour, Blitzed up at the end.

With two fingers she placed it in her mouth, Careful to make sure she got the right end this time. Sweet smell of smoke drifting up in the air, She watched it rise from the burning end and as she breathed it back in.

Tetsuya. No one would ever believe her about what happened to him, No one. From the police officers and paramedic's that were present that day, They had all written it off as just some little kids ramblings.

The counsellors, The psychiatrists and the priests. All of them, Every single one had done the same. But [F/N] knew better, [F/N] knew what she had saw that day, She knew that it wasn't something of her world that done it to him.

But it was only her. [F/N]'s lips parted from the cigarette for only a second, Blowing out the sugared smoke from her throat. She'd never be able to convince anyone of the existence of demons, Not without evidence, That is.

She tossed the cigarette onto the pavement. Her sneakers raising then stomping down on the sugar-stick, Mushing out the flame on the stone to nothing but dying smoke.

[F/N] would find evidence, She'd make sure of it. She'd find who killed Tetsuya even if it meant she had to follow him to the next life, She would know the culprit.

Her hand absentmindedly wandered down to the open pouch, The candy coloured silk splayed open on the bench as she searched for the candy scented cigars.

But her hand didn't connect with the bristle of cigarette paper or the shroves of tobacco that should've been there. Her eyes widened for a second, Her head jerking round to meet the open pouch.

It was empty, Completely and utterly empty.

"What the.." [F/N]'s jaw dropped. There had been at least a dozen cigarettes laying atop the paper, All of them had been there since she sat down. She had made sure of it, So why were they missing?

Could she have knocked them over on accident? [F/N] leaned back to look at the muddy grass below the timbered bench, She came up with nothing but worms and weeds growing underneath.

Her hands slapped the pockets of her sweater, Feeling around to see if she misplaced them yet she came up empty. Where could they have gone? To the sides of the bench, On the pavement or perhaps she was sitting on them?

No, Even as she felt underneath her she felt no trace of those sweet little cigarettes.

It was only once she was shifting through the contents of her bag did she find a clue, One that seemed just under her nose.

Or above it in this case. [F/N] suddenly felt the bursting itch of the tiniest particles hitting the bridge of her nose. [F/N] jolted, The sensation amplified by the fact she didn't expect it in the slightest.

She stopped searching through her bag for just a moment, Hand jerking to her nose and rubbing at the irritating itch. But when she brought her hand back, Her eyes narrowed in on the small speck of her hand.

It was a shrove of tobacco.

[F/N] stared at it for a solid moment, Eyes locked in on the target. It seemed like it had came down from the heavens themselves, Like it had just floated down like snowfall on a December morning.

Then another, [F/N]'s eyes darted up to another shrove of tobacco floating down right in front of her vision. Another and another, It seemed to grow in numbers as every second passed by.

"What the hell is this.." [F/N] drawled out, Her hand extended to catch the snowflakes of cigar ash drifting down onto her palm. They were growing into a small bush, A small puddle of candy-smelling shroves coupled within her hands.

But where could they be coming from?

[F/N]'s head turned upwards, Neck craning to get a good look up at the sapphire sky above her. Blinking once she was only met with the wisping clouds floating about the atmosphere, Sun shining down at her.

But her eyes caught onto something else, Something metallic.

It was the streetlamp, One of the dozens lining the concrete pavement for miles but the only one that was standing above her. Still daytime it was off, But the streetlamp wasn't what she was focusing on.

Instead it was the boy hanging from it.

[F/N] jolted at the sight of him, Near falling off the bench as she realised his presence.

The boy was older than her, In his teen years and not in his tween's like [F/N] was. He was hunched over with horrid posture, Panda pouches under his golden eyes to match hers. He was strangely dressed too, A torn-at-the-tail overcoat drooping down from where he hung.

He was hanging like a bat from a cave spike, Legs locked around the branch of the streetlamp so loosely that he could fall at any moment. It was a wonder how he was still hanging on, But [F/N] was more interested in what he was doing.

His mouth was stuffed to the brim like a hamster, His hands grabbing clutches of tobacco and mashing it into his mouth. [F/N] stood there befuddled as she finally saw the clump of coloured cigar paper stuffed in his jacket pocket.

[F/N] gawked, Absolutely stunned.

"This candy sure is weird." The boy said to himself with a blank face, Seemingly not noticing [F/N] standing beneath him in shock. He shovelled another bush into his mouth, Watermelon flavoured to match the swamp green of his hair.

[F/N] gulped.

"How the.. W-Who the hell are you?! Why're you taking my bloody cigarettes?!" [F/N] exclaimed. It was the only thing she could think to say at the moment, Words flowing out of her mouth without a single thought behind them.

But it was the only thing she could say as the boy's sickly yellow eyes darted over to her, Seeming to finally notice her presence.

[F/N] couldn't help but shiver, For some reason feeling disturbed. Like a lion eyeing the lamb grazing in the field.

"Oh. They're mine now, They were laying out so I took them." He stated through a mouthful of her tobacco. An empty expression as he stared down at her, No regard for the fact that he had stolen her cigarettes.

Well they were stolen by her in the first place, But the sheer disregard of guilt for what he had did just made [F/N] all the more angry. Who did this guy think he is? Whoever he was he was weird as hell.

Hanging from the streetlamp? Chewing her tobacco? Not to mention that weird spike sitting atop his head, That to his toes he was dressed so strangely as if he had tossed on anything given to him without regard to colour or weather.

[F/N] gritted her teeth, What a nutjob.

"What kind of philosophy gets you to think that?! Give them back, You bastard!" [F/N] snapped at him with the best face pre-teen her could pull. Teeth wide and bared, Arms crossed in frustration.

The boy just hung there, Not reacting to what she said though he did stop chewing momentarily. Then he shrugged, The cigarettes he was clutching in his hand let go, Making them fall down onto the pavement which [F/N] scrambled to pick up.

"Whatever. They taste disgusting so you can have them." The boy said, Watching her as she fell to her knees collecting her fallen cigarettes with apathy. [F/N] grabbed the last of them, Shoving them into her bag with a furious scowl as she looked back at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! I barely have any tobacco left cause you chewed it all! What are you even doing up there, You prick!" [F/N] bit as she held the leftovers of whatever little snuff she had left in her palms.

The boy rolled his eyes. And in a move [F/N] didn't expect she watched him pull back, All before the legs locked around the streetlamp branch let go making him fall towards the ground.

[F/N] yelped, Stumbling back. The boy's feet slammed against the concrete pavement, His elvish shoes clacking against the side as he stood up to his full height with no apparent damage at all.

She stumbled back, Blinking as if to see if it was a hallucination or not with an open maw.

How the hell could he have dropped from the streetlamp to the pavement without any damage? The boy stood there, He was older than her and in his teen years so whatever kind of parkour training he must've had was very impressive for his age.

But [F/N] bit back a shiver, Could a boy in his teens really pull that off?

"You humans are really weird, Your candy is nasty and you don't even know who you're talking to. Though I suppose you don't know any better." The boy shrugged as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his tattered coat.

[F/N] gawked. First he had hell of some acrobatic skills, The next he had some real annoying superiority complex. Who even gave him it in the first place? Didn't matter, Didn't stop [F/N] from balling up her fists either.

"First of all, This isn't candy. These are cigarettes you dum-"

"-If they aren't candy, Then why do they smell like candy?" The boy butted in rather rudely, Sleep deprived eyes burning into her own without any sense of remorse.

[F/N] groaned.

"Because these are flavoured, Idiot. You don't chew the tobacco, You roll it up and you smoke it for the flavour. Ever heard what a cigarette is?" [F/N] chided as she reached into her bag to present a cigarette to him sarcastically.

The boy blinked.

"No." He replied.

His response caught [F/N] off guard. It was so honestly spoken and genuine that she couldn't help but drop her shoulders and guard along with them. Did he seriously not know what a cigarette was..?

"Well.. Ehm.. It's kind of this thing that you roll up with the.. The tobacco-" [F/N] stumbled over her words, Not sure how to explain to someone older than her what a cigarette was "You know what? Let me show you."

The boy didn't have any time to react as the end of a cigarette was shoved into his mouth.

His eyes widened, Not registering how [F/N] had marched up to him and done it so bluntly to him. Him of all people! Were all humans really as rude as this one was? She was starting to get on his nerves.

"Okay, Now that you have it in your mouth you just light it up at the end. You good with smoking?" [F/N] prompted, Not knowing why she was doing this but asking anyways. The boy looked back at her, Before rolling his eyes and letting out an okay with the cigarette in his mouth.

"Good" [F/N] said, Pulling out the lighter from her sweater and holding it up to the end of the cigarette, One rolled in cherry pink paper and tasting like it looked. "Okay.. Three, Two, One.."

The lighter sparked up, A few faulty clicks before the burst of an ember lit up at the tip. It caught onto the cigarette rather quickly, The burn of the snuff starting to flicker and burst out into a flame of its own.

[F/N] moved the lighter away, Lowering it down to her side.

"Alright, Now purse your lips like you're whistling but suck it in instead. Make sure to support it!" [F/N] said, Her hand snapping up to hold the cigarette with two fingers as it near fell out of his mouth.

The boy huffed but ultimately did what she had said, Watching as his lips pursed like he was whistling then his lungs inflate. [F/N] let a small grin slip as she watched his face light up slightly, The light in her fingers lowering from his mouth.

"Good, Huh?" [F/N] asked as she watched his lungs shrink in his puffed out chest, The vaguely pink smoke erupting from his lips and drifting off into the midday air. Sizzling out in the brisk of the day.

He looked down at her, Apathy more of an aftertaste now as the light finally returned to his eyes in an interested glimmer.

"I want more, Give me more, Now." The boy demanded, Taking a determined step closer to her with a hand already stretched out. [F/N] huffed, Dropping the cigarette astringent with cherry into his open palm.

"Tasty, Right?" [F/N] commented as she walked back towards the bench, Plopping back onto the rickety wood and lazily crossing her legs. The boy raised the cigarette back up to his lips, Repeating her instructions to the t.

The boy blew out another burst of cherry scented smoke, Tongue licking his lips as it went.

"It tastes like cherries, I want more of it. Where can I get it?" The boy asked, Turning to her as she lazed around on the bench, Relaxing against the back. [F/N] shrugged, Shuffling a single hand around in her bag before fishing out another cancerette.

"I dunno, I didn't really buy these myself and I don't know where the adults get 'em. So.. You'll need to ask someone else" [F/N] replied as she pulled out the lighter and struck up another flame on her green apple cigar.

The boy only hummed, The spark on the cancerette burning out in finality. No more smoke being produced, Leaving it to only be tossed away on the concrete pavement beside him as he sauntered over to the bench's direction.

"What's your name anyways? Seems awkward not to know it." [F/N] asked, The words leaving her lips with the scented smoke following only moments after.

"I'm Amaimon, It's nice to meet you." He said with a shrug. Though his words were polite his visage still showed that same resting face, Deep eyebags and all as he crouched down beside the old bench. She huffed, What a strange name.

"Mine's [F/N], It's cool to meet you too." She replied as tossed him another cigarette from her bag, Amaimon catching it mid-air. Another flavour, Another one to light as he held it up his snuff to her lighter.

It flicked on and just like that it was back to silence once more. The rustle of the leaves in the tree's was all that could be heard, Along with the faraway laughter of the kids in the park and the occasional car that passed by.

[F/N]'s eyes couldn't help but wander over to the boy crouched down beside the bench. It was a weird position, Only held up by his tippy-toes as he smoked out the saccharine cigar. His own golden eyes targeting nowhere.

[F/N] looked away, The wind still dancing through her hair as they sat in a somewhat comfortable silence. He was odd, Odder than the other teenagers she had met. She wasn't even thirteen yet she wondered if he was as strange to her as others his age.

He seemed so. With such fashion and behaviour she'd certainly think as such.

"So, Why were you hanging from a streetlamp? How'd you even get up there anyways" [F/N] asked, Blowing out a puff of smoke as her lips finally spoke of the elephant in the room.

Amaimon looked up at her, Licking his lips as if to taste the smoke.

"It's fun, I like the wind. The air here in Assiah is much fresher than the air in Gehenna, I climbed up there with my claws." Amaimon said as if it made any sense at all. [F/N] raised a brow.

"Assiah? Gehenna? Claws..?" She queried.

"Yeah. I'm a demon." Amaimon replied as he crushed the finished cancerette within his fist, Tossing it away on the ground as he was unaware of the expression on the girl's face.

[F/N]'s cheeks were puffed up, Lips squeezed together and her nails digging into the edge of the bench. She snorted, A noise that made Amaimon's head jerk over to her, Watching as she tried to supress a laugh.

"Why are you making that face? What wa-"

"BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-" [F/N] let out a howl of laughter, One so loud that she near keeled over on the bench. Amaimon watched as her free hand clutched her chest, The biggest grin showing as tears started to water at her eyes.

Amaimon's dotted brows knitted together, The razors of his teeth starting to bare from his maw.

"You're laughing at me, Why.. Are you making fun of me?!" Amaimon snapped as his back arched up, Unseen clawed hands starting to dig into the concrete of the pavement as he watched her hysterical laughing fit.

[F/N]'s laughter died down into a giggle, Wiping away the tears from her eyes.

"No-! No.. I'm not making fun of you, It's just I understand now, You know-" [F/N] chortled as she pointed to all of him, Smiling as she watched him look at the rest of himself for whatever she could be pointing at.

"You must be one of those gothic people I use to see on the TV, The one's that call themselves demons." [F/N] said, Relaxing back into the bench as she tossed her used cigarette away.

Amaimon tilted a head.

"..What?" Amaimon asked.

"I don't wanna be offensive! You do you, Just.. They actually exist, You know?" [F/N] explained to him. Amaimon just looked back at her with a blank expression, Seemingly confused.

"..Yes, I am a demon. See? Look at my teeth, They're not like yours" Amaimon said as he raised a finger to pull back his lips, Baring his teeth to [F/N] as his face grew closer to hers.

[F/N] blinked. Apart from the obvious fact that he needed a tic-tac and a good floss, His teeth really weren't different from hers at all. The canines he was pointing to were just like hers, No deviation.

"Yeah, Right. I have those kinds of teeth too, Dude. Demons aren't even humanoid, They have claws and horns and are beast-like. You don't have those." [F/N] said, Looking at his overgrown and dirtied nails along with his swampish hair. No demonic traits to be found.

Amaimon closed his mouth, Eyes drooping back down to their original shape.

"Oh.. You can't see it, You don't have a temptaint." Amaimon said, Turning away back towards the road. Dropped shoulders and all as he went back to staring into nowhere whatsoever.

[F/N] shook her head.

"Whatever you say dude, Whatever makes you happy." [F/N] shrugged as she closed her eyes, Taking the sunlight into her skin. Feeling the air on the back of the neck, Her hoodie really didn't do it justice.

Back to uncomfortable silence it was, He had no response after hers as he went back to staring off into space. [F/N] breathed out with no cancerette in her mouth this time, Only the slight wisps of cold vapour leaving her mouth.

"Why are you still here anyways? Don't you have teens your own age to hang out with and not some random child you met in the street?" [F/N] asked to him.

Amaimon's eyes darted back up to hers, Seemingly now only noticing the age difference between each other. Especially the height.

"Other humans my vessel's age are all too weak to play with.. They're boring after only a minute." Amaimon answered, Though now turning fully over to [F/N] "But you're not currently boring, Even though I haven't played with you yet.."

[F/N] snorted slightly as she watched his expression trail off into something more interested, One of his overgrown fingernails entering his mouth to be chewed on.

"You're not too bad yourself, Amaimon. You're weird, I like that." [F/N] giggled as her hand managed to wander itself over to the top of his head, Her fingers weaving their way into the swamp green of his hair as she ruffled it mockingly.

Though he froze, Just as her fingertips touched his locks.

"Huh..?" Amaimon muttered as he finished chewing on his fingernail, Body rigid as if he didn't know what was happening. [F/N]'s grin shortened, Fingers leaving the strands of his hair.

"Oh.. Sorry, Should've asked.." [F/N] mumbled as her arm retracted to her side, Though it didn't stop the petrified stance Amaimon sat in. Still staring off into space with his eyes widening further and further every second.

THUMP!

There it was again.

THUMP!

And again, Some strange thumping inside of his chest.

His ribcage rattled in its place, Almost like it would burst out from his vessels flesh. His hand grasped at the right of it's chest, Teeth gritting at the strange sensation. One he had never felt in his entire existance.

"Amaimon..? You good..?"

He jolted up, Eyes snapping back into focus at her words.

"Do it again!" Amaimon ordered. Hand still grasping a cluster of his striped shirt, The thumping continued on. Cheeks heating up into a warm pink.

[F/N]'s lips turned into a frown. Her guard that was down before started to raise, Rebuilding itself into what it was before. This was still a stranger, She hadn't even known him an hour. What was she doing?

"Eh.. I think I should get going now.. I need to do-"

"Again! Now!" Amaimon cut in. Voice raising in a crescendo as he grew closer and closer to her on the bench, One she slid further back on to try get away. But his hands lunged out to her wrist, Entrapping her in place.

[F/N] yelped as his palms tugged her towards him.

"A-Are you insane?! I- Fine, Okay! Just let go!" [F/N] cried as she was near pulled off of the bench, Soles of her shoes digging into the pavement in an attempt to keep her stable.

Though his grip was let go. Amaimon pushed himself up on the bench, So close to her now that his burning breath was felt in the pores of her skin. She could see his too now as her hand went to massage her aching wrist.

"Do it!" Amaimon urged, An unspoken threat.

[F/N] gulped, Not hesitating to do as he said as she slipped her fingers in-between the folds of his hair. He was taller, Older than her. Athletic by how he hung from the streetlamp and the chill she got when looking into his eyes was all the convincing she needed to comply.

Amaimon shuddered, Face lowering down from hers as he felt the unsure ruffles of his hair. His head rested against the bench beside her, Feeling the frigid fir against his cheek. So cold but strangely warm and comforting.

[F/N] swallowed down what little saliva was in her dry mouth, Sweat starting to grow and infest her palms as she played with his hair.

She was terrified, Shaking as she did so. [F/N] needed to get out of here, This wasn't right. She had thought of herself so mature before, So adult and cool with the cigarettes she smoked on the daily.

But as she raked her fingers through his hair, She knew very well that she was still the little kid who cried not to follow her friend into the depths of the woods.

"How are you doing this..? Are you a demon? A witch..?" Amaimon mumbled, Near melting into the lumber of the bench. What he had figured out was his heart started to beat faster and faster, A machine churning out some.. Human feeling inside of him.

[F/N] sniffled slightly, She wished she never took those cigarettes in the first place.

"It doesn't matter.. This must be it, This must be what you humans talk about when you say you love your family. I've never understood it.. You humans are just animals. Not like us demon's but.." Amaimon trailed off, Turning his head to face hers.

"You're not like the other humans, You're different.." Amaimon muttered. Hand lunging out to grasp her wrist once more as her movements slowed down, Both in fear and terror as she yelped out. Staring into his eyes.

"You're fun." He whispered.

[F/N] felt the tears prickling in her eyes start to drip, Start to fall down her cheeks. He wasn't acting like this before, He wasn't so.. So terrifying. He was just a strange boy she smoked with!

But she needed to get away, She needed to tell someone-

But her train of thought was cut off by the biggest of grins spreading across his face, One that seemed so unnatural upon the apathetic usual of his face. It was contorted, So visceral that she could never look away.

[F/N] stared at it and the tears streaming down her face only grew.

"Let's go have fun! I wanna go play! Big brother told me to learn more about Japan and it's becoming boring, But having you around will be fun! Come on!" Amaimon urged, Starting to tug on her even harder. Pulling her off the bench as her behind hit the hard concrete pavement.

"L-LET ME GO!" [F/N] cried out.

"I'll introduce you to my Behemoth, He's my pet! Big brother also said that I couldn't bring him out with us on his business meeting, So you'll need to come with me now so I can show you to him." Amaimon tugged even harder, His strength herculean and pulling her along easily as he started to lug her upwards.

[F/N] wailed. Her free arms raising and flailing against Amaimon in a desperate attempt to escape, Feet kicking at his shins and her shrill voice calling out for anyone that could hear her.

But there was no one around, No one except her smiling assailant dragging her along with him.

Though his grin dropped slightly as he looked at her face.

"Why are you leaking from your eyes? You should be smiling right now." He asked, His noise pushing into her face to examine the foreign substance coming from her ducts. He blinked, Tilting his head to the side.

[F/N] cried out, Sniffling hard.

"I'M NOT SMILING CAUSE YOU'RE KIDNAPPING M-"

HONK!

The distinct sound of a car horn came barrelling down the street. The grip on her wrist was freed, Amaimon's hand letting it slip from his grasp.

[F/N] stumbled back, Near tripping over the bench before she fell back onto it. She whined out, Examining the redness of her wrist and the pain on her skin. No injury luckily, But was still stinging.

"Y-You bastard.. How can you.." [F/N] sniffled, Looking up at him. But he wasn't looking at her, Instead he was looking far off down the road with a surprised expression plastered on his face.

HONK!

[F/N]'s eyes expanded, Matching Amaimon's as her head snapped over to the roadside. The car horn was louder now and the tune of which it hummed was unmistakable. Her mouth went dry, There was no way.

But as the hot pink limo sped down the suburban streets, The sound of the chipper horn playing out once more, [F/N] realised she was in hot shit. That horn was famous across Japan, That car was famous.

It was Johann Faust V's car, The wealthy foreign socialite and the headmaster of True Cross Academy. He was renowned for both the school's rich reputation and the flair for his projects, Namely the biggest theme park in the country!

But how could he be here?! This was some middle-class part of town, He was known to reside in True Cross Town. The chances of him being here right now were slim to none, But not if..

"No way.. This is your brother?!" [F/N] gawked, Jumping up from the rigid bench to an even more rigid stance. Eyes glued to the limo slowing a few feet down from the pavement, Watching it like a hawk.

Amaimon only bit the fingernail in his mouth a little harder.

"I wasn't suppose to be out this long.. I was suppose to return but I got side-tracked.." Amaimon muttered to himself as the limo finally parked a bit away from where they stood, He turned to look at her.

"But Big Brother will understand when he sees you. He'll like you just like I do, I know he will. Then I can keep you. This fraternal feeling is nice, Isn't it nice for you too?" Amaimon asked, Ignoring the shaking of her body and the redness in her eyes.

[F/N] shook her head, Backing away.

"I.. I, Uhm.. I don't.." [F/N] trailed off, At a complete loss for words. "It is nice isn't it, Little sister? I'll go talk to Big brother and see if I can keep you, Stay put and I'll be back." Amaimon said, Turning and running towards the limo down the street. The window already rolled down as he skittered to a halt in front of it.

[F/N] gulped, Still shaking as she wiped away her tears.

Whatever the hell that was, [F/N] wasn't ready to stay around and find out as her hand pounced at the straps of her bag. She lugged it over her shoulder, Eyes never leaving Amaimon's turned back as she started to sprint away.

If he was associated with Johann Faust then she didn't want to be apart of it. She didn't want to deal with whatever lawsuit that could be put against her, Especially if Amaimon told him that they were smoking, She was lucky she shoved all the other cigarettes away in her bag.

But she ran past the youth centre doors, Passing without batting a single eye.

She didn't want them to find out she was living there, That would be easy for them to torch her out. So as she ran, Rubber burning off her soles she knew she had to hide out for a little while.

Somewhere in the plaza or the shopping streets, Somewhere with a lot of people. Just for a few hours while this all cools down, So the staff don't find out she stole any cigs or was communicating with Johann Faust's bizarre younger brother.

So she ran and she ran, Sprinting further down the streets. The youth centre got smaller and smaller behind her, The arguing speck of Amaimon and the limo became only more miniscule as she ran.

All of this just for a few hours, Just so this crazy dream would all be over.

[onsunnyside]

there are so many mask options: the purge, the strangers, Jason and Michael Myers 👹

A HALLOWEEN PARTY SHUTTTT UPPPPP Rafe would definitely dress up as the preppy blond guy from that first purge movie😵 the mask!!!!!!! yesPLS

ORRRRRRRRR an 80s camp!counselor au where everyone brought a costume for a costume party (because it's october or wtv) and he's the creepy camp counselor that brought a Jason getup and won't stop following you around😶‍🌫️

- 🍰

OMG YES !!

Rafe and his friends all in matching purge costumes 😖😖 they’re everywhere, no matter where you go, they’re there. but in your drunk state, you can’t bring yourself to care and unknowingly dance with your stalker. It isn’t long until he drags you out of the house and around the back, the moonlight offering only a smidge of guidance.

He pushes you against the side of the house, his hands trailing up and down your body, his touch as hot as the summer air. Your protests die on your tongue when he drops to his knees, his mask falling to the floor as his head disappears under your dress.

“W-Wait!” You squeal, jumping at the feel of his tongue against your panties, swiping up and down your clothed slit. “Someone could see us!”

He doesn’t falter, if anything, he gets more eager. He mouthes against your wet panties, sucking your swollen clit through the cotton and even prodding his tongue at your sopping hole.

You cry out with trembling knees, the pleasure only heightened by the risk. You don’t want to get caught, but you also don’t want him to stop.

You hiss when his teeth pierce your inner thighs, the pain quickly soothed by his warm lips as he hooks your panties to the side, licking one long stripe up your cunt.

His lips lock around your button, sucking harshly as if he wanted it to hurt and you convulse, slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. A heat builds in your tummy as tingles rush through your nerves, and your eyes flutter shut when he slips a finger into your hole.

He’s so messy and you’re so wet, you can hear the lewd noises over the booming bass inside the house. You can’t help but rock against his face, gripping his hair with one hand as you suck your fingers in a desperate attempt to stay quiet. He’s making it harder with every swipe of his tongue and thrust of his fingers.

“Good girl, come all over my face. I wanna taste you for the rest of the night.”

Damn, I guess I woke up slutty today 🫡

as for the camp counsellor au… me thinking of a rivals with benefits trope, he’s from the kook camp across the lake and you’re on the pogue side, being forced to watch their overfunded camp get all the new toys and fancy resources. You act like you hate him (you do) but when the sun goes down and the other counsellors/campers are fast asleep, you find yourself bent over in the back of his truck, moans silenced by your own panties as he fucks you silly 😩 “wish you could see yourself now, going dumb on my cock—that attitude of yours would improve real quick.”

[astralis-is-typing]

"... and they were camp-mates." (더 가까이~)

⚝fic type: romance, young love

⚝genre/contains: han jisung x fem reader, summer camp!au, fluff, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pinning, both reader and jisung are over 18

⚝warnings: slightly suggestive

⚝word count: 5.8k

⚝inspo: mixtape:oh by stray kids

⚝A/N: this is my entry for the may/june blossoming love event (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠) happy pride month & an even happier 2 year anniversary of mixtape oh!! (the korean title is from han's verse in the song's bridge)

“너와 두 눈을 맞추고서, 한 걸음 더 네게로...

계획을 세워봐도, 여전히 네 앞에 서면 나는 애야”

The great oak doors opened with a familiar creak as you stepped into the reception of your long-time summer camp. Nothing had changed. Nothing really ever changed here. Year in, year out and this lodge remained tried and true. You had attended this camp almost every summer for the past six years. Both your parents had incredibly demanding jobs. Since they couldn’t keep you entertained for your entire holiday themselves, they had figured camp was a good alternative to leaving you at home to your own devices all day. You hadn’t liked the idea at first, but this place gradually grew on you… its carefree and youthful aura was something you’d always reminisce on. It was out of the city, away from all the noise and rush. The camp was bordered by a forest on one side and a lake on the other; the fresh air was always so soothing to your lungs, particularly on the first week back here. Whether a kid liked being outdoors or not, this place had a way of expanding one’s perspective on what fun could look like.

You ran a finger along the smooth brown reception desk as you took in your surroundings. The familiarity of the place made you sigh; the tension you didn’t know you were holding slowly easing off your shoulders. Cheesy motivational quotes and colourful posters about camp activities were tacked onto the notice board beside the desk.

On the counter, a jar of sweets glinted invitingly in the soft sunlight seeping through the room’s large open windows. They came in handy especially in the first few weeks of camp, when the receptionist needed to calm down the kids who ran in demanding to phone their parents and have them pick them up. It was a regular occurrence with the younger campers, you had behaved that way too on your first summer. Some of the best– and worst– moments of your childhood had happened at this camp. You’d broken limbs, learned how to swim, cycle and bake here… As well as more unconventional feats, such as learning how to pick a lock with a hair pin.

The reception had received a fresh coat of paint since you were last here, the beige tint no longer chipping to reveal the dulling white beneath it. You dinged the tiny bell on the table top and took a seat at the orange couch beside the door as you waited for the receptionist to come in. You came back this summer as a junior Counsellor to earn a little extra cash before you joined college. Familiar as the place was, you were sure this summer would be a relatively different experience considering your new position and the fact that you wouldn’t be spending it with the friends you had made here. It would be rather boring without them all, you thought, as you knew most of the other junior Counsellors would be unfamiliar faces.

The receptionist walked in through a side door after a few minutes and beckoned you forward with a warm greeting so you could register your name in the counter book and receive your pass. You can’t help but smile as you take in the photographs still stuck to the wall behind the desk. They were from three years ago, when your camp’s rowing team had competed in a tournament and won. Under the generic congratulatory banner, you could see your own toothy grin (and pimpled forehead) staring back at you. Right next to it was one particular chubby cheeked boy who was smiling triumphantly as he held his hand up in a peace sign. You let out a small laugh at the memory of the cheesecake-loving boy who’d simultaneously annoyed the hell out of you and elevated your stays here to astronomical levels of fun.

“Hey baby!” Came his unmistakable voice from behind you. It made you spin around in shock. The Han Jisung was leaning against the door frame, a crossbody bag slung across his broad chest and a large box cradled in his arms.

The nickname 'baby' had always fallen so easily from his lips, in the same manner one would casually use ‘bro’ or ‘mate’. He hadn’t changed all that much… still had those insanely chubby cheeks and annoyingly perfect waist. His sense of fashion had improved tremendously, yet still looked very Jisung-esque; comfort had always been the most important element to his dressing.

“Jisung? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he countered with a wink, walking in and setting the box down on the counter. “Can’t deny I’m not happy to see you, though.”

He turned to the receptionist then. “These are books I’d, uhm, borrowed from the camp’s library… over the years… and forgotten to return.” He explained with his signature grin, hoping to charm the older man into letting him off the hook. Soon enough he'd check the 'return by' dates and realize that some of the box’s contents had been under Han Jisung's bed at home for about four years now. If it wasn’t for his pestering mother they’d still be there, honestly.

You scoffed, trying to ignore the swell of his bicep as he leaned an arm on the counter. “You read?”

Jisung stuck his tongue out at you. You rolled your eyes when the receptionist opened the box to reveal dozens of comics. “These don’t count as books, Jisung.”

“They do, too.” He challenged back indignantly.

“You don’t read.” You stated with finality as the receptionist went back through the side door he came in from.

“Yes I do.” Jisung countered adamantly as he leaned towards you and tapped your nose with his finger. You groaned and leaned back, stifling the laugh that was climbing up your throat.

“So what’s your deal?” he asked, changing the subject with a teasing pout of his lips as he poked your side. “Missed this place that much?”

“I’m here as a Counsellor.” You explained shortly, paying no mind to his antics. Jisung had a habit of trying to rile you up for no apparent reason. He seemed to find great fun in it.

“Well look at that, baby!” He said with exaggerated glee, showing you his pearly white teeth as he smiled wide. You narrowed your eyes at him, fighting back the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“We’ll be spending one last summer together,” he gushed, emphasizing each word with an affectionate pat on your shoulder.

—

You watched Jisung scribble his name just below yours in the worn out counter book. You couldn’t believe your luck, this had to be some kind of joke.

The two of you had a history.

You remember the summer Han Jisung had serenaded you by the campfire, all in the name of having you lend an ear for his new song. The dark haired boy had sung his heart out while dutifully strumming his guitar. You recall the way he hadn't broken eye contact for a second, the crackling fire illuminating his determined face. The performance had ended with him shyly confessing that you had inspired the ballad.

That had also been the summer you’d had to untangle him from his mosquito net. Yeah, not Jisung’s finest moment.

None of his roommates had managed to free him and you had for some reason been deemed an expert in such cabin room catastrophes. He’d snuck a kiss to your cheek as you finally freed his fragile legs from the net. (A kiss you’d immediately wiped off as the other campers began to holler and croon sickly sweet love songs.)

—

When he’d walked in, Jisung’s stomach had done a funny flip at the sight of you. After all this time…

The effect you had on him was as strong as when he’d last seen you. He started teasing you out of habit, the urge near instinctual after all these years. What else was he supposed to do? That was his only way of masking the true nature of his feelings. You absolutely captivated Han Jisung, in just about every way possible. Unknown to you, he had been under your spell for years now. Sure, you’d probably caught on at one point or another that he had a crush on you, but it ran deeper than that. Jisung was enthralled by the way your brain worked, and the unique solutions you found to problems. Though a bit of a genius in his own right– especially musically– Jisung was rather scatter-brained and your efficiency and structure was something he’d always admire. In addition to that you had the prettiest eyes he’d ever had the pleasure of looking into.

As you walked side by side, Jisung grappled with how he was going to keep things light and friendly between you two. Internally, he knew that he was fighting a losing battle.

—

The two of you made your way to the centre of the camp where the senior Counsellors were dividing duties. Nayeon, your favourite Counsellor from your time at camp, handed you your own schedule. It turns out you would be working with the younger kids. Not a bad deal considering you’d been on babysitting duty for most of your life, being the oldest sibling and all.

Jisung, who was seated next to you on the sturdy log, grinned as he read his own sheet and nudged you with his elbow when he reached the end of the slip.

“Looks like we’ll be cabin-mates, baby.” He declared. Your eyes widened at that, scanning through your own paper to confirm his statement. Indeed, you would be holed up with Han Jisung for a whole month.

You sputtered, blaming the sudden heat creeping up your face on the sun overhead, and looked up at Nayeon with your mouth slightly agape.

“You’re the same age,” she pointed out, shrugging. “And you know each other. I figured it would be more comfortable than rooming you with strangers.”

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as your mind ran a mile a minute, providing you with scenarios of how this could possibly turn out. You struggled not to give any outward indication of the thoughts clouding your brain.

“Unless you want me to change it…” Nayeon offered kindly, noticing the panic dancing in your eyes despite your efforts to conceal it.

You looked over at Jisung, who’s heart-shaped mouth had formed a slight pout at Nayeon’s suggestion. He quickly dropped it when he noticed your gaze.

“Uh… no, no. This will be fine.”

“Are you sure, sweetie?” She double-checked.

“Yeah, sure. Positive.” You cleared your throat that suddenly felt very dry. You quickly racked your brain for a reason to excuse how flustered you were. “I was just- Jisung’s really messy so I was a little-”

“Am not.” He countered childishly, looking slightly offended. Unfortunately for him, the slight upwards quirk of his mouth betrayed the charade.

“I’ve heard the horror stories.” You teased with a raised brow, referring to the tales you’d heard from his previous cabin-mates.

“Well,” Nayeon cut in, shaking her head in amusement. “If the arrangement is alright with the both of you then I’ll leave you to it.”

She smiled good-naturedly before moving on to her other colleagues who had queries.

—

Rooming with Jisung wasn’t all that bad. Both of you were shy at first and kept to your respective sides of the small cabin. The room had two bunk beds and Jisung kept his mess to his top bunk. Sleep had evaded you on the first night and he’d actually offered to sing you to sleep. It had worked wonders and over the next two weeks it became somewhat of a routine.

The only time you got in each other’s way was rushed mornings when you needed the bathroom at the same time. You didn’t spend much time in there anyways, already swept up in the flurry of activities that camp provided. In truth, you just wanted to avoid the blush that graced your cheeks whenever he walked in all sleepy to brush his teeth, muttering a ‘hey, baby’ with his gravely morning voice. The domesticity of going about your morning routines together got to your head faster than you expected it to. Perhaps what made it worse was when he had to lean over or behind you to grab something on your end of the sink.

One morning he’d full-on wrapped an arm around your waist as he reached over and snagged your scented lotion. Jisung thought he was being all slick but the proximity ended up flustering him even more than it did you. You’d feigned annoyance at his seemingly endless antics, scolding him and trying to pry the bottle from his hand. Jisung, stubborn as ever, wasn’t giving it up that easily and cheekily brought his face closer to yours with puckered lips. You’d recoiled immediately with wide eyes and he laughed in delight, savouring his victory as you narrowed your eyes at him and stormed out of the bathroom before he got to see the smile you couldn’t seem to fight off.

—

It felt like the kids wanted to try out everything at once. On days you seriously needed some down time, you’d get one of them to start up a game of hide and seek. That kept them busy for a good hour, sometimes more depending on the number of participants.

Hide and seek had always been a popular game at camp. The game’s rules were different here– and a seeker finding you didn’t automatically mean you had lost. Once found, you and the seeker had to race to where they’d been counting; whoever got there first won. If you lost, you had to join the seeker in their quest to find the rest of the campers.

Three summers ago, you’d hidden in one of the camp’s two treehouses with Jisung during a game. When it began you had quickly dashed up there, expecting to find the space empty. You had nearly tripped over Jisung who was crouched near the door. He’d managed to steady you and put a finger to his lips conspiratorially. You wanted to whine and tell him to find another spot but at that moment the seeker announced they were done counting.

Jisung had clamped a hand over your mouth and pulled you in before you could protest… adrenaline running high as you both pressed against the wooden inner wall. He was closer to the door, so you curled around him– placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you peeped at the scene below you two. The sky was quickly darkening outside, darker shades of blue streaked with hues of violet creating a beautiful background to complement the moon's faint glow that cast tall shadows behind the scurrying campers. The moonlight slipped past half-drawn blinds through the window above you, a sliver of light dancing across Jisung’s soft cheeks. He had them puffed out as he held his breath, looking over the door’s landing. You could make out half his face, the other half silhouetted in the dark tree house. He looked rather beautiful this way, the sharp line of his nose against the light and soft curve of his round eyes making him look like a painting. The realization momentarily stole your breath away.

When he turned around suddenly, your noses almost bumped together. It occurred to you with a start how close you were to him. He didn’t move away though, eyes gleaming with mischief in typical Jisung fashion as he took note of the proximity. You didn’t pull back either, transfixed and still a little dazed by everything. It took you way too long to notice you were staring at his lips. It wasn’t until he let out a soft chuckle that you slightly moved back, the breath of it fanning against your own lips. Your heart had fluttered annoyingly when you returned your gaze to his brown eyes.

“Have you ever kissed someone?” You asked quietly. The dark of the evening was working like liquid courage and brazenness uncharacteristically came easily to you. Jisung looked taken aback by your question, eyes widened as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip nervously and picked at his dark blue nail polish. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, hoping against hope that you were suggesting what he thought you were. He nodded his head, adding as he looked away, “Never a girl, though.”

“Oh,” was the only reply you could come up with, unsure of how to continue the conversation.

He faced you again, now grinning. You knew that look and groaned, already being able to tell the boy was about to say something stupid.

“You could change that.” He suggested with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, mumbling something under your breath about how you ‘didn’t mean it that way’– yet you still brought his face closer to yours with slightly shaky hands.

“Your insufferable.” You said as menacingly as you could, but the twinkle on your eyes betrayed you.

Jisung’s breath caught in his throat when you held his face in both your palms, cold from the air outside. He hesitantly brought one of his own hands to your cheek before closing the space between you two.

The kiss was soft, just a slow brush of your lips– neither of you confident enough go beyond that. In any case, you didn’t have the time to, hearing someone– undoubtedly the seeker– climbing up to the treehouse. You quickly broke apart and stood up, preparing yourselves for the impending race.

Your lips still tingled faintly as he looked at you and sharply nodded his head once. You nodded back, mouthing, “On three…”

—

As the days stretched on, hanging out with Jisung in between your duties proved to be a fun past time. Sure, he still teased you a lot, but more than made up for it by making you laugh hysterically. He’d been the mood maker during your time as a camper. Jisung always managed to rally the other kids’ spirits and always had a great story for the nights spent around the campfire.

On your second Saturday back at camp, you two were seated outside your cabin as you usually did when you were both off duty. It was the onset of summer the small room felt too stuffy at times. You’d helped him make sure the older campers he was in charge of weren’t getting into any trouble before retiring for the night. For those rascals, truth or dare had become riskier and ‘7 minutes in heaven’ was now the go-to game for a night spent indoors.

You and Jisung recalled one such occasion during your own teen years when he had lied you were his girlfriend to get out of kissing Felix in a game of spin the bottle. You didn’t understand why he’d done it; Jisung had kissed virtually all his friends at least once– and Felix was no exception. You’d now found yourself in the middle of the drama, your other campmates still demanding a kiss between you two to keep the game going.

Felix had eyed you sceptically as you fumbled for a way to back out. That boy had been Jisung’s bunkmate that summer and the previous one as well. Felix would surely have known if the two of you had something going on; the campers had a habit of sneaking into each other’s cabins when they dated.

The freckled boy’s voice was so low in the morning that it had scared the shit out of Jisung every day for the first two weeks spent as his bunkmate. The two of you burst out laughing at the memory of him spraining his ankle on the first week of that summer, having fallen out of bed at the sound of Felix’s rumbling morning voice. It had resulted in Jisung having to trade in the much coveted top bunk to prevent any chance of breaking a limb in his spooked frenzy.

“Hey! You wouldn’t have fared any better!” he managed between laughs, trying to save some face. “It’s hard to convince your brain at six in the morning that no, there isn’t any demon under you plotting to drag you into the underworld.”

The conversation then shifted to your future plans. Every new thing Jisung discovered about you left him yearning to know you at a greater depth. Jisung was going to study music and producing, naturally. He was still nervous about it, stomach churning from the thought of the calibre of classmates he’d have at the college he was accepted to.

“You’ve got the talent and the drive for it,” you reassured him with an earnest smile. You leaned your hand on your palm as you gave him your full attention, genuinely interested in his aspirations. You knew Jisung didn’t open up to many people about these things, afraid that they’d find his ranting tiresome. You wanted to make sure he knew you enjoyed listening.

Jisung couldn’t hold eye contact for long- eyes straying from yours every now and then. You were sat there looking at him with that look you had cast on him so many times before; one that made his stomach do backflips. It was a look of trust… of belief that his thoughts were not only valid but mattered. There weren’t that many people out there who took their time to just listen in the way you did. Not only to him; Jisung admired the caring nature you extended to everyone around you. It’s one of the things that made you a great Counsellor; the kids felt not only safe, but also heard when with you.

“Don’t look at me like that!” He whined, subconsciously hiding his flushed face behind his hand.

“Like what?” You chuckled. You fought back the flustered panic rising in your chest. Had your eyes let on too much? You were usually good at schooling your smitten expression in front of Jisung (or so you thought) but it seems the comfort of the moment had made you drop your guard.

“Like that,” He explained unhelpfully, wiggling his fingers in your direction. It really wasn’t like Jisung at all… the way he talked to you, treated you and behaved towards you made him seem so immature. Everything he said ended up sounding childish. It was rapidly getting worse the closer you two grew.

“Anyways,” he said, shaking his head and trying to regain his wits. “I’ve been working on something. Would you like to hear it?”

“If you’re going to try serenading me I swear-”

“No, no,” he laughed, getting shy again at the memory of that night so many years ago. “It’s…”

He trailed off, not wanting to give too much away. “I don’t want to give any spoilers!” He stood up and gestured for you to do the same. “Just come inside.”

Jisung turned on his laptop– his only possession separated from the heap of clothes and his other belongings sprawled on his top bunk– and pulled up a file labelled ‘Close’. He kept his eyes trained on the floor as he played you a snippet. The song had an upbeat and floaty vibe to it, the kind you loved. It eased the weight of the lyrics that carried such unaffected depth, typical of Jisung’s song-writing. He blushed as you praised him when the track-in-progress came to an end, attempting to downplay how good the song really was, but you didn’t let him. He cleared his throat, struggling to explain the meaning behind the song when yet again faced with your undivided attention. Around you all the bright ideas in his head came out messy and uncoordinated, even when he’d thought about what he wanted to say beforehand.

You held out your hand as you hit the replay button on his laptop and pulled him up.

“Dance with me?” you asked simply. It wasn’t really optional, considering you’d already brought him to his feet, but Jisung wouldn’t have declined anyways. You put your hands on his shoulders as you danced in the small space between your two beds. He tentatively brought his hands up to your waist with a small grin.

“Better not crush my toes with your great big feet,” he teased, taking one step closer to you and laughing as you swatted his chest with a grumble. Holding you in this way shouldn’t be having the effect that it is on him. But what did he expect? Every time he so much as looked at you for too long his breath caught in his throat. As always, the only distraction Jisung could find from the feelings blossoming within was to poke fun at you.

The song came to an end as the two of you were swaying silently, simply enjoying the moment. In any case, you both lacked the courage to do much else. Without realizing it, you had gotten closer– way closer then when you’d begun… but neither of you could find the will to pull away.

He should honestly just go for it.

Jisung was honestly one of the suavest guys he knew. It shouldn’t be this difficult. Why was it, anyways? He was a grown man, he reasoned to himself. Kissing his crush didn’t have to be like pulling teeth. Jisung shook his fears away as he held your chin in between his fingers, eyes imploring your own. You slipped your arms around his neck and he shut his eyes, letting you close the gap between you two.

The kiss felt different from anything he’d experienced previously. Your lips pressed against his with so much care, conveying everything you couldn’t put into words.  When you pulled away your pretty eyes remained focused on his lips in a way that made him want to dip back in for more. Everything about you did.

He held you close to him by the waist, loosely enough in case you wanted to step back. You placed a hand over his chest, eyes telling him all he needed to know as you felt his heartbeat pick up under your palm.

“Hey…” he chanced, rocking you slowly to a rhythm no one else but the two of you could seem to hear. You appeared to be waltzing… lost in each other’s gazes as you both slowly shed the layers of pretence keeping you apart.

“Hmm?” You replied softly, careful not to break the comfortable silence.

“Be my girl,” he pleaded. Jisung drew you into a hug and leaned his cheek against yours, sighing at his lack of tact. You pulled back and smiled coyly at him before you playfully danced out of his reach. You plopped down on your bed, not anticipating the way he followed you and kneeled at your side so you were somewhat at eye level.

“Why should I?” You asked with your eyebrow raised and hands crossed over your chest. You’d expected a clever quip in return but he merely pouted at your answer.

“Haven’t I proven myself enough?” he whined. In spite of yourself, you reached out a hand and threaded your fingers through his hair. It had grown longer in the time he’d been here, brown strands tickling his neck. He sighed at the feeling, weighing his next words before he spoke again.

“Have you ever had sex before?”

The question stumbled out ungracefully. Its randomness made you raise your eyebrows and laugh. If it were anyone else, he’d have probably been able to say that smoother, maybe slip a warm palm up your thigh. But no, around you Han Jisung was an idiot. 

You nodded your head, then– as if you’d suddenly recalled something funny–  grinned and added, “Never with a boy, though.”

The reference had him chuckling in spite of his nerves, helping him relax a little. Of course, this peace was disrupted by what you said next.

“You could change that…” You suggested, trailing off in your slight uncertainty. You cleared your throat when Jisung looked at you blankly, examining your hands like they were suddenly the most interesting thing in earth as you tried to look anywhere in the room but him. He laughed quietly and brought your face back round to face him.

“You’re insufferable,” he said softly, teasing glint still dancing in his eyes. Jisung brought up his hand to your face and leaned in for the second time that night. The kiss was firmer this time round. His lips moved against yours with a newfound determination, tongue sliding against your lips and seeking entrance beyond them. His other hand trailed up you your arm to gently tug at your elbow, moving you closer to him.

You pulled him up onto the bed and he hit his head on the top bunk in the process. He groaned as he sunk down and you couldn’t help but break the kiss to laugh at him.

“See what I go through for you?” he joked, rubbing his forehead with a grimace.

“Okay,” you conceded. “I’ll give you a shot.”

“Really?” He exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement and reddening forehead forgotten.

“Just for the summer…” You negotiated. “You’re on probation.”

“Well, that’s better than nothing,” he shrugged before laying down on your bed and pulling you on top of him. You straddled him as your head lowered to his once again, closing your eyes as the feeling of his lips against your own and hands roaming your body engulfed you.

—

You woke up to the soft morning light slipping under your curtains and the feeling of Jisung’s breath against your neck. He’d nuzzled himself there and was borderline laying on top of you. He looked so peaceful like this, his toned back rising and falling with each breath he took. His leg was thrown over your own and you gently pried him off so you could go to the bathroom.

You gazed at your reflection in the sink’s mirror, noticing a very conspicuous mark on your neck that you’d have to cover up later. You ran your fingertips over it, smiling like an idiot. Why was it so hard for you to admit your feelings for this guy? Everyone could see there was something deeper between you two. Even one of the kids had pryingly asked if he was your boyfriend.

Every summer, all the relationships the two of you might have had over the school year dissipated into thin air the second camp began. Jisung seemed to forget the relevance of them all when you were in question. On your end, you struggled to mask your smile when someone brought his name up. Both his goofy and serious side were so special to you. His serious expression as he jotted down lyrics used to make your stomach flutter– you realized it still did when he was talking about his song to you last night.

You gazed at your reflection again, searching your own eyes for an answer you already held within you… could you be falling in love?

—

The weeks flew by and before you knew it, your final time at this camp was coming to an end. You and Jisung had been… busy, in between your Counselling duties. There were several times over the course of the past few weeks when you’d woken up in his bed instead of yours.

Nevertheless, you’d surprisingly enjoyed your duties. The kids this summer where a nice lot, especially considering you hadn’t been assigned to deal with the older ones. It was harder for them to take your instructions as they could see you weren’t much older than them. You didn’t know how Jisung managed.

On the last week you and Jisung were yet again sat outside your cabin, sharing a pack of gummy bears.

“So… am I off probation now?” he asked teasingly.

“Still thinking about it.” You deadpanned, resolutely staring ahead into the darkness.

“C’mon don’t be difficult,” He whined. “Admit it, I’m the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“Nope,” you said, giggling. “You’re the only boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

“So that automatically makes me the best!” He argued with a grin. “No competition… you’d just be comparing me to me.”

“I said you’re my first boyfriend, not first relationship,” you corrected him. “Don’t get to cocky,” you said throwing him a wink.

It was comical, really, the way he pouted at your answer. His eyes suddenly lit up as he dragged you up from your seat.

“Where are we going?”

“Just follow me.” He said with faux exhaustion, mumbling about how stubborn you were.

The stars twinkled above you and you could hear that distant hooting of owls from the nearby forest. The moon proudly lit your path as you recognized it as the route to the camp’s old well. It had no use really, and hadn’t in about 15 years.

You remember your third summer at camp when Jisung had jumped into it after you’d rejected him.

He’d stayed down that well until a Counsellor had to grudgingly get him out. Jisung had been a menace at the time. The only Counsellor who’d managed to tame him was a junior named Minho. Jisung didn’t seem to care about how much grief he caused them during activities- always stirring up some kind of mischief. You’d frequently catch him looking your way, as if he was specifically waiting for your reaction to his antics.  Jisung liked to see you laugh at his jokes, beyond giddy to know he’d contributed to that beautiful smile of yours. He always strived to make his mark, he didn’t want to just hang or linger around you… a brief distraction that you’d forget by the end of the day. For reasons unknown to him, Jisung had wanted to be more than that to you.

Just like back then, he sat on the well’s edge.

“Be my baby,” he asked, already struggling to bite back a laugh. He threw in a ‘please’ for good measure. “I swear I’ll jump in if you say no again.”

The well’s depth wasn’t as deep or intimidating now considering you were both full adults, but the thought of having to haul him out in the dead of night did not sound appealing, so you agreed immediately. You chuckled as he stood up and made his way to you with a visible spring in his step.

“You’re so stubborn.” You scolded him as he gallantly took your hands in his.

“Annoying, childish, a thorough idiot...” He confirmed, taking another step closer to you. “Who's low-key in love with you.”

“Completely insufferable...” was the last thing you managed to stutter out before he crashed his lips into yours, cradling your face in both his hands. He titled his head and deepened the kiss after a short while, nearly tumbling you both over in the process. You snorted into the kiss and the two of you broke apart in peals of laughter.

It seemed that no matter how many times he did this, he was still messy, still uncoordinated and not much unlike the young campers you watched over.

In front of you, his love, Han Jisung was still a kid.

⚝A/N: Thank you for reading (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆ This concept has been in my mind since May aah I'm happy to finally have it completed. If you enjoyed the story kindly reblog!