#going through my clips to clear out my switch a lil so be ready for more lol

[jel-jel-jel]

Salmon Run glitch where I somehow respawned alive

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

A Misplaced Imbalance of Fear

Ao3,   MasterPost

Relationships: Romantic Dukexiety, implied/minor Moceit (platonic or romantic)

From the power of my Art and my Shitposts comes This Fanfiction!!!

Warnings: Panic Attacks, Lots of Cursing, descriptions of gore (horror movies, it gets decently explicit so beware that), mild body horror (Remus is here and he Does Things Like That), Heavy Roman angst for a hot minute in the middle, making out (continuing my theme of remus-centric fics getting more ;3). They do some makeup and drink tea, baby. Mentions of picking one’s skin as an Anxious habit, and also ticking. Also stimming!!! nd sides 4 life bb. Also, a very brief alcohol mention (it’s soup).

Word Count: 6,553

God Fucking Fuck, Virgil was going to have a self-care day even if it killed him dead. Everybody else could do whatever overdramatic fuckery they wanted when they were topside, but he was all set down there in the Mindpalace, thank you very much.

Luckily, mercifully, thankfully, the rest of the sides all seemed keen to let Virgil have his space anyway. There wasn’t a thing stopping him from relaxing.

Well, except for himself, of course.

A thrum of condensed stress and fear tugged at Virgil’s abdomen, bubbling its way over his edges. It was equally his own and the others’, probably due to whatever conversation they were caught up in in the external world. He would not relent to the worry, nor was he summoned to help with the situation, but his body refused to stop shaking. Perched on the top of the couch, frantically clicking the buttons on a fidget cube, Virgil tried to watch the gore playing on the TV in a tired effort to calm his nerves.

Horror movies… helped. They were something for his brain to chew on for a while- their over-the-top and ridiculous plots, the obnoxious characters that almost always deserve what’s coming to them, the attention-attaining action- it was all a recipe for Distraction. But they weren’t working by that point, no matter how badly Virgil wanted them to.

And then- possibly because the universe loved to spite Virgil and Virgil specifically- a walking, talking headache flung himself into the common room about as elegantly as a wolfhound with rabies.

“Heyyyy,” Remus crowed as he sprawled himself out on the couch. Anxiety curled his legs closer under his body, unresponsive- he knew full well that any reaction would just be an invitation for trouble from the obnoxious trait. He’d remember what Logan taught them: don’t engage, just brush it all off.

Unfortunately, Remus seemed to be in a stubborn mood.

“Whatcha watching?” 

“Movie,” Virgil grumbled. 

“What movie?”

He eyed the side laying out on the couch below him, narrowing his gaze as threateningly as he could manage. He spat the words through gritted teeth and made it clear he was not having this today.

“It’s called Terrifier.”

Remus perked up at that, and oh God, if he was interested then he’d never go the fuck away.

“What’s it about?”

There wasn’t much Virgil could do but answer in as clipped a tone as he could; things hadn’t gotten too bad, too uncomfortable, yet. Maybe he could redirect Remus’ attention, if he was just boring and unresponsive enough?

“Just a cliche creepy clown flick. Not much to it.”

“Is it gory?” 

Virgil made a vaguely affirmative sound in his throat, gesturing to the screen. In truth, the movie’s impeccable special effects with gore was its main appeal, as the acting and plot was kinda atrocious. Violence was the exact reason he’d chosen to watch this. But he knew saying that wouldn’t help his chances of shaking off Intrusive Thoughts.

Remus looked ready to spout off something explicit, but he went dead quiet as his eyes fell on the scene on the television. Virgil was grateful for small mercies.

It was exactly the kind of thing that the creative trait would watch, after all; a woman getting sawed in half, lengthwise, starting from the- er, the wrong end. Under circumstances of a more typical anxious flare-up, the scene really could have been one of those ‘helpful distractions’. 

These were not normal circumstances.Yeah, this was one of those ‘too passive’ cases, but Virgil didn’t exactly have the energy for anything ‘active’. So, he stubbornly glared at the TV and pretended that his solution was working, because he had no idea what else to do. Perfect plan.

Preoccupied as he was with his internal issues, he very nearly managed to forget about Remus. Until-

“Holy fuck, this is gorgeous, you watch stuff like this?!” The Duke’s eyes were bright, but not with his usual hysteria. They were wide with genuine excitement, shiny and happy. It was- uncanny, that’s probably the word Virgil was looking for. He curled closer in on himself.

“Shouldn’t be that surprising, dude. ‘Scary’ is kind of my thing.”

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen this one,” the creative side was once again completely enamored by the television screen, “Don’t blood and guts and cool things like that freak you out? They always seem to do the trick when I try to mess with you!” 

“It’s different. The violence in movies, it- it calms me down, I guess. Cause it’s like, I don’t know, detached from reality?”

There was a pause that had Virgil hoping, naively, that Remus had grown bored at his spiel. But he wasn’t moving, he was just staring, gaze switching contemplatively from the screen to Virgil a few times over.

“It doesn’t look like that. If you were any more tense, all your tendons would be snapping like badly-tuned violin strings!” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Virgil pressed his back against the wall and shut his eyes tight. He could still hear- no, feel- Patton and Roman and Thomas arguing, snapping at each other back and forth as the situation escalated.

“Is this about whatever the others are doing? Why don’t you just stop listening to their shitty arguments?”

A harsh laugh escaped Virgil at that, dragging him back down to earth so he could blink his eyes open, glaring at the facet lying beneath him. 

“I can’t just stop, that’s not how I work. I need to keep an ear on them. Who knows what could happen if I didn’t?”

“Well, why don’t you just go talk to them?”

If he wasn’t already frustrated beyond belief, that would’ve fuckin’ done it for him.

“I don’t think I’d be much help. Not right now.”

“Why not?” Remus looked halfway between genuinely curious and mischievous, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better view of Anxiety.

“Seriously? Things aren’t exactly, like- normal between all of us.”

“What is normal?” 

Virgil opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came through. As much as it sounded like an offhanded, edgy 13-year-old atheist kind of remark, it was a decent point. Virgil had thought that there was something of a status quo forming between himself and the ‘light sides’, but how long had that even lasted for? Especially compared to the rest of his life? Everything was changing all the time. Was there anything to rely on, or was it just Virgil’s own wishful thinking for what their lives could be? After all, even in ‘peaceful times’, there had been plenty of in-fighting and disagreements and horrible uncomfortable conversations and harsh words and-

“Oh, shut that brain up,” Remus’ sharp voice pulled Virgil from his thoughts, “I know what you meant ‘normal’. You meant the six months when you got to forget about us Scary Monsters, and, DUH! It was probably way simpler for all you diet-soda-no-sugar sluts back then, but that doesn’t mean it was better.”

“Yeah, you would think that things are better now, wouldn’t you?”

Remus fixed Virgil with an unsettling sort of grimace, making the other squirm. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so by any means. 

“I dunno, but what I do know is that things are getting better. They’ll be the best they could be, soon.”

Despite himself, Virgil laughed. It was a faltering, anxious sound, revealing the true fear behind the taunting gesture.

“Really? With everybody at each other’s throats all the time?”

“While that does sound fun,” Remus sat up fully, twisting around to look directly up at Virgil, “I mean after that. After we’re all accepted. It’s inevitable- Inevitable, Anxious Lil’ Barista,” Remus accompanied the referential nickname with a wink. 

Virgil stared at him like he was crazy (well- like- crazier than usual, he guessed?). Remus just threw his head back and laughed before spinning his neck one-hundred and eighty degrees to face the TV while he explained.

“Point is, it’s painfully obvious that everything will sort itself out. It has to, or else the only other option is that Thomas is gonna drive himself insane by trying to suppress parts of himself and end up clawing his own brain out. One of those two things!”

While colorfully phrased, the certainty with which Remus delivered his point had Virgil taken aback. There was no way that Remus could possibly know that, but- in a backwards way it was comforting, how sure he sounded. He didn’t lie, not ever.

Virgil had never thought that Remus would settle for anything less than going out of his way to make others’ lives a hell. But maybe that antagonism wasn’t what exactly motivated the trait’s actions. Maybe it was just an unintentional side effect, akin to what Logan had said when Remus first revealed himself.

The moment of reprieve was over as soon as it began.

“Fuck! He just cut off her tits and wore ‘em, huh?” 

Virgil looked up and, to be fair, that was exactly what had happened on screen. Like he said, this movie wasn’t exactly poetic cinema, but it certainly was something. 

He scooted along the top of the couch, moving just a few feet before dropping down to sit properly beside Remus.

“3/10 drag look at best, really,” Virgil muttered, mostly to himself. He jumped when Remus shrieked with laughter at it, looking absolutely delighted. 

“I didn’t know you made jokes like that, VeeVee!”

Virgil shrugged noncommittally, focusing on the screen and not the facet beside him. Remus’ giggling was loud and distracting, but it wasn’t… unpleasant, unlike his typical villain-cackle was. 

Once Remus had settled down (as much as somebody like him could, anyway), he, too, focused on watching. The quiet was uncomfortable, but it didn’t stretch on for long. There was always something in the movie that The Duke felt the need to comment upon extensively, elaborating and giving details on the gore. Virgil found himself listening to the rants silently, almost enjoying the disruption. It certainly gave his overactive mind something to play around with.

“-skin doesn’t slice as easy as that, trust me-”

Aaaand there it was. Virgil winced, trying very hard not to show that the words had struck a nerve. He liked horror, gore, all that, sure, but there were just some specific things- squicks, you could call them. Remus would obviously use that to his advantage, so the only option was to try very hard to zone out and not look like he was disturbed.

“But even then- Hey, why are you making that face?”

Mission failed.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Remus shifted closer- invasively closer, his gaze studying. 

“You were calming down earlier, what's with the scrunch-nose?”

Virgil stared at his hands, chipping away his black nail polish. Remus was nearly as good at reading lies as Janus, and twice as hard to get rid of.

“It's just- skin, slicing, that stuff just-” he ticked, head spasming sideways briefly at even the thought of that kind of pain.

“Oh,” Remus said plainly, not even a hint of malice or mischief in his tone as he leaned back into his own spot, “Why didn't you just say so? Well, that last exploding head kill is way more interesting anyway, did you see that?”

That was… it? No taunting, no tormenting, he just changed the topic, like that? 

Remus, continuing to be weirdly perceptive, scoffed as though he was reading Virgil’s mind.

“What? Just because I like screwing with you prudes sometimes doesn't mean I want to give you a panic attack. Where's the fun in that?”

Anxiety nodded mutely, bewildered. Remus seemed appeased by that and quickly resumed his running commentary.

And if Virgil eventually decided to take part in the discussion, well, it wasn’t a big deal anyway. Just some polite conversation about bodily mutilation.

 The television darkened as the screen was washed by credits, filling the space where the disfigured face of the main character had been mere moments prior, the result of a pretty predictable twist ending. Virgil stood, arching his back up in a stretch. His arms raised higher, one joint or another crackling at the motion. Fuck, he was sore. How long had he been sitting still?

Remus hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch. He tapped his claws along the remote, exiting to the homescreen and looking expectantly at Virgil.

“You don't wanna watch anything else?” He asked abruptly, drawing a confused glance from his companion, “This is fun- and they're still arguing up there, so it kinda makes sense to stay, it’s really the best solution if you-”

Virgil huffed a laugh at the rambling. It sounded like some shit he’d say, for crying out loud.

“Dude, chill, I was just gonna make some tea before putting on another movie,” the clear relief that ran across Remus' face- quickly replaced by a wide grin- wasn't anything shy of… sweet. Virgil was sure this day couldn't get any fucking weirder, if he was finding anything endearing about the walking talking dirty joke before him. “Uh, you want anything? Since you're gonna stick around, and all.”

Remus jumped up, following Virgil into the MindPalace’s small kitchen happily. In one smooth motion, he swung up onto the counter and slid down it, seating himself almost on top of the stove.

“No hot leaf soup for me, thanks, but I will take one of those mugs!”

Virgil raised a brow, staring the creative trait down before shrugging. He passed him one of the mugs, a generic and patternless one- so that the other sides probably wouldn't notice its absence. He busied himself by setting up the kettle, trying not to wince at the loud wet crunch that resulted when Remus took a bite of his snack.

“Hey,” Remus said around a mouthful of ceramic chunks, “I know just the movie we should watch next.”

Virgil shifted around the various tea boxes littering the cabinets, searching for something with a kick. He hazarded a glance to Remus, immediately regretting the decision when he saw the blood dribbling down his chin from the cuts marring his lips. Anxiety cringed, turning his head back and grabbing for the first brightly-colored box he saw. It took him a moment to respond.

“Okay… what is it?” 

“It's awful- I mean, really, the acting is unbearable and it’s fucking insane- but it's funny. You like making fun of stuff, right? It's like that, but there's still a ton of agonizing death, which is always a fun bonus.”

“What's it about?” Virgil was hesitantly intrigued, his gaze flicking up from the steadily heating kettle. He wasn't exactly keen on staring down the gory scene of Remus’ mouth, so he settled his focus on the trait’s eyeball brooch. 

“Uhn-uhn! No spoilers, this is one you have to see for yourself. It's funnier that way.”

Virgil made a noncommittal sound, tapping his nails against the counters.

“Nothing too bad happens- not that you can't handle, anyway. No slicing and not many jumpscares.”

He resisted the urge to snap 'how do you know what I can’t handle?' because Remus actively trying to reassure him was. Something. Something that he appreciated, maybe, a little.

“Okay, fine. I didn't have anything else in mind. A ‘So-Bad-It’s-Good’ thing sounds alright.”

The obnoxious gnawing of Remus destroying what was left of his cup suddenly ceased, replaced by a stunned silence. Virgil finally met his eyes (finding that the lacerations around Remus’ mouth were already healing themselves, as if they'd never existed).

“You’re taking my suggestion?”

Virgil cleared his throat, finding himself unable to break the intense eye-contact now that it had been established.

“It's not a big deal or anything, man. Just a movie.” 

Remus nodded enthusiastically, a grin splitting his face ear-to-ear. Very literally. The expression was so unnatural and cartoonish on a human(ish) face, that Virgil couldn't help but be startled into laughter. Remus looked even more delighted at that reaction, leaning forward over the stove. At that point, Virgil very much couldn't suppress the noises, snorts bubbling up from his throat against his will.

“You look-” another bout of chuckling, “-you look ridiculous, Remus.”

“Aw, thank you! I was going for manic, but I'll settle for that, too.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, hunching in on himself to get his breathing back to normal. 

With no warning, Remus lifted himself up onto his knees and craned his body around the vigilant trait, snatching the kettle from the stove and flipping the dial to ‘off’. Instinctively, Anxiety recoiled from the proximity. The tension fell away when he saw that the other was simply pouring the hot water into Virgil’s mug for him.

“Dude, it wasn't whistling yet?”

“I know; it was hissing like it was about to start. You're boring and don't like loud noises, especially when you’re all on edge like this, so,” he set the kettle back down, passing the warm mug to Virgil. 

Virgil stared at him, then at the drink in his hand, then back up at the Duke. He was, for what felt like the millionth time that day, unsure of how to react.

He… really hadn't thought that Remus would pick up on stuff like that. He should probably start getting used to that, maybe.

“I'm-” Virgil dragged his finger up and down the handle of his mug, “I'm not that on edge anymore, actually.”

The look that Remus sent him was indecipherable. 

“C’mon, I’ll queue up that flick I told you about.”

“Yeah,” Virgil let out a deep breath, one he hadn't even known he'd been holding, “Yeah, okay.”

 The floor was bubbling, popping, blistering with red fury. It was lava, sending bright flaming sparks in all directions. Thankfully for Remus and Virgil, sitting close together on the couch and viciously mocking cabin fever, the vicious rage was exclusive to one small circle near the staircase.

Virgil, who had been happily tearing apart the leading guy’s acting, cut himself off abruptly.

“Shit- wait- shit.”

Remus shook himself out of his raucous laughter, looking up in confusion. His eyes finally settled on the crimson patch of carpet, a look of realization crossing them. His voice turned much quieter than what fit him.

“Oh, fuck.”

It was like a volcanic eruption localized entirely within the living room, fire blazing in a tall column. From the emotional display, Roman rose up, face nearly as red as his method of transportation. 

There was that brief moment, right when a stressful situation appeared, of antithetical serenity. Virgil felt his muscles slacken in shock, his long-empty mug falling from his hands and landing on the carpet with a dull thud. A rush of calmness hollowed out his chest, lingering for just a few seconds before being replaced by panic. Tension returned to his limbs mere moments after that, like it was pulling him taut.

Roman wasn't even looking at them- in fact, he hadn't seemed to notice his brother or best friend at all. The fire fell back down, leaving a charred patch of carpet that would likely take a long time to repair itself. The passionate trait growled, a sound that bordered on a scream as he clawed his hands down his face. He stamped his boot sharply against the ground, igniting another small fire with the impact.

“Fuck!” He cried, ever oblivious to his audience. With a hasty wave, the flames flickered and disappeared. Roman glared down at the blackened spot where it had been, winding his arms tightly around himself. He took a few shaky breaths, but if anything he only looked worse off for it.

“Fuck,” this time spoken quieter, but with no less vitriol. An immaculately-manicured hand raised itself to cover his mouth, tightening around his face desperately as tears slipped from his eyes down his fingers. He turned on his heel and took the stairs two at a time.

In his wake, as the television had been paused, the only thing that Virgil could hear was buzzing in his skull.

What had happened? What was happening, currently?! Things had gone so wrong and it was all because of Virgil’s negligence- what bad things could have been prevented if he had just been there? Or- or even just listening in! When had he even stopped listening? He was supposed to protect them but he just gave up, just because he ‘couldn't handle it’, and now something was Wrong with Roman and he couldn't even focus on listening to them all now, not like this. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t hear or see anything at all.

A rough, calloused hand wrapped around his wrist. Virgil's shallow breath staggered even more at the feeling, the warbly noise of speech failing to meet his ears. His eyes were closed tight, he realized, stinging with emotion behind his eyelids.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Four seconds, four strikingly gentle presses against the vein of Virgil’s wrist. If it weren't for the slight edge of a claw, he could've confused the motion for one of Patton’s.

The four taps were followed by a brief pause, then a steady round of seven taps. Another pause, and then eight. As Virgil focused, as much as he could anyway, on the presses, the screaming of his mind very gradually abated. First, he pried his eyes open, staring down at the hand around his arm. Watching the tapping, feeling it, was grounding enough for his hearing to return in time. Virgil could hear Remus beside him, breathing deeply as a guide, and copying the exercise became that much easier. In for four, hold  for seven, out for eight. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

Remus didn't stop when Virgil did it properly one time over, when he was still shaking and teary. He didn't speak up even when the well behind Anxiety's eyes ran dry, after what had to be a dozen rounds of even breaths. It was only when Virgil finally, hesitantly slipped his wrist out of the other's grasp on his own terms that Remus made any sounds.

“Do you remember when you taught me to do makeup? Late teens, early twenties, around then?”

Talk about a topic shift. Virgil glanced up in confusion.

“I guess so? Wasn't that, like, the only time that we hung out and actually got along?” They’d never exactly been close, Virgil had made sure of that. It was, in retrospect, a regrettable decision on his part.

“Yeah. I was so bad at it, remember?”

“Hell yes, I remember,” Virgil felt a tiny smirk tug his lips at the memory, “You literally never sat still. You were and are the most impatient person I've ever met.”

“I’ve gotten a lot better, Vee.”

Virgil glanced at the bruise-like eyeshadow circling the Duke's eyes, but refrained from saying anything. Knowing him (kind of knowing him? Starting to know him better now? Whatever.) it was most definitely intentionally off-putting, and probably not a good way to judge his actual ability.

“But I’ve seen how you do it, when you really, really try; I think you're still better than me with it, ju-u-ust barely.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Virgil wasn't entirely sure where this was going, but he couldn't find the soft excitement in Remus’ eyes anything other than enticing. The creative side laughed, flapping his hand.

“It would be fun if you did it for me again! Just like old times, ey?”

Virgil stared at him, considering him carefully.

“You want me to do your makeup?” 

“Yes!” Remus leaned forward with his confirmation, but for once that didn't involve violating Virgil’s post-panic attack bubble, “It'll give you something to do with your hands other than peeling back all your skin, at the very least.”

Oh, right. Virgil not-so-subtly lifted his nails from his palms, wincing at the irritated red spots coloring his hands.

Truth be told, the idea wasn't… unappealing. It was an activity well between mindless and active, repetitive and artistic. Plus, he didn't exactly love being alone after attacks, and if anything Remus would be lively company. Company that he sort of, maybe, possibly was looking forward to spending the rest of the day with anyway, unfortunate events notwithstanding.

“Yeah, alright, if you're sure you want-”

“Great! Wait right there, bee-arh-bee,” before the words were even fully out of his mouth, Remus went limp and fell sideways off of the couch, falling right through the floor. 

In his absence, there was a void where his noise had been. Virgil stared at the paused movie scene, picking apart the little details of the frame just to have something to do. His mind drifted off to the state that Roman had been in when he entered. The sight of his friend so furious burned itself on the backs of Virgil’s eyelids. He knew that the anxiety wasn't all his own, either; he could feel it like waves from the other side of the MindPalace, the origin point clearly belonging to Roman.

He should check on him, shouldn't he? Or would that make it worse? Virgil certainly didn't feel like he was in any state to help. But then there was Patton to consider- something must have happened up there. Should he look for him, too?

There was a whoosh.

“I leave you alone for five seconds and you get right back to thinking!” Remus strode across the room, flopping right back onto the couch. Held in his arms was an enormous multi-pocketed bag, items clattering around within at every jostle their owner made.

“Overthinking is literally my whole job, man, this shouldn't surprise you,” Virgil shrugged, trying not to sound as relieved as he felt.

Remus simply rolled his eyes and dropped the makeup case onto Virgil's lap, sitting criss-cross parallel to him, their knees brushing slightly.

Virgil hesitated for a moment, scanning Remus' face, but all the other did was smile and blink (one eye at a time). 

Virgil zipped open the bag, rifling through and finding an overwhelming array of gaudy colors and odd products.

“Was there, like, a 'look' that you want to go for?”

Remus shrugged.

“Just go for it! I’m a blank canvas. The worse, the better.”

Virgil chuckled, picking out a few items to fit a theme he was coming up with and getting right to work.

Though it had been years since they’d last spent time together, it wasn’t awkward. In fact, it felt more comfortable than it had back then.

Remus managed to sit almost perfectly still, chattering the entire time that Virgil worked. Yet again his voice served as something like white-noise, wherein Anxiety only had to contribute whenever he chose. Remus only quieted when Virgil had to hold his face, tipping his head back to properly apply inky-black lipstick. And then, he remained silent for a moment, as they surveyed each other. 

Virgil had cleared his throat, warmth prickling at his ears, and the ceaseless rambling resumed after that.

In what felt like hours and no time at all, Virgil was finally satisfied with his work.

“Alright, you're all done,” he capped the bottle of mascara in his hand, rifling through Remus' bag for a mirror, “Wanna see?” 

Just as he felt the unmistakable cool surface of glass on his fingertips, Remus grabbed his wrist in both hands. 

“What-?”

“Not so fast! Now it's my turn,” he announced, his zealous eyes even more prominent on his face thanks to the thick wings of eyeliner around them. 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Virgil looked from the assortment of garish colors that he'd mostly stayed away from in the makeup case, and then back up at the Duke.

“Usually: yes. But I am dead serious right now, Vee.”

Remus looked pleading, legitimately pouting. 

Virgil huffed. The side had gone out of his way to help him, when he really didn't have to, so…

“You're not going to just use this as an excuse to draw all over my face, are you?”

“I mean, no promises that I'll be able to restrain myself, but! Gimme a chance anyway, I can make you even hotter than you already are! Plus, we'll match then.”

“... Fine. Just- nothing too crazy, alright?”

“Again, no promises.”

Virgil groaned, but he still passed the bag to Remus.

 “Holy shit...”

Remus leaned over the basin of the bathroom sink, drumming his hands on the counter excitedly. He was starry-eyed as he observed the dark, dramatic colors covering his face: metallic emerald-green eyeshadow, excessively long lashes, and winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut a bitch. His lips were black as void, but shimmered like glitter. Everything about the look was dangerous, confrontational, and grim. 

“This is more out there than I’d usually wear, but. Yeah, holy shit.”

Virgil's expression, despite his best efforts, was equally awed as he peered into the mirror. The color around his eyes was mismatched; a lime to moss green gradient over his purple eye, lavender to royal violet over his green one- both colors contrasted by smudged black eyeliner under his eye. His signature Racoon Look had been maintained in that aspect, but it was even more exaggerated. In addition to that, Remus had taken to drawing various little symbols along Virgil's cheekbones, including things like upside-down crosses. Finally, there was the fuchsia lip-gloss, stark against Virgil’s paler-than-normal foundation. 

“It’s okay, I guess,” Virgil breathed reverently. 

“I love it!” Remus crowed, clambering onto the counter just to get a better look at himself. Somehow, he'd already managed to smudge the hell out of his eyeshadow, but it kinda… worked for him, if Virgil was being honest.

“Vee, we have got to do this more often!”

Virgil looked from his reflection to Remus', startled in a way he didn't entirely understand. The intrusive facet met his gaze through the mirror, the smile sliding off his face when Virgil didn’t respond to him.

“Right, Raggedy-Anx? It doesn't have to be this, specifically, if you really don't want to. We could just watch movies together, that's fine. Or we could do anything at all! Right?”

Virgil was still silent, lost in his mind. Remus fell from a kneeling position to sitting with his legs hanging off the counter, turning his back to the mirror.

“Was this a one-time thing? That's alright, too, if you just needed help calming down. I'm not as good as the others, I know, but if they're ever too busy again, you'll think of me when you need help, at least. Right?”

Finally, Virgil snapped out of his daze when he heard the panicked edge to Remus’ voice, feeling his anxiety as Virgil noticed the wild look that had completely erased his giddiness. It was a look that Virgil had seen plenty of times before, when Remus had been ignored far too long and was right about to start ripping things to shreds for some scraps of attention. Only then did Virgil fully recognize what the expression actually meant; the deep, terrified need that swirled behind the look, unsure of how to ask for what it really wanted after so many denials of that very want. 

“Shit, sorry,” Virgil moved to stand in front of him, eye-level to Remus even though he was elevated by the counter, “Hey, it's alright, Re, everything's fine.”

Remus was still trying very determinedly to smile.

“I know! Hell, I’m not the anxious one, I'm the one that makes people anxious,” his laugh sounded like it came from a throat full of broken glass, “I just- I liked this, ya know?”

“I know,” Virgil leaned forward, coaxing Remus' arms away from where he'd wrapped them around himself, “I like this, too.”

Remus let Virgil hold onto him, surprised into something like obedience.

“You? What?”

“I like this,” it wasn't as though Virgil was expecting to hug Remus, but it seemed to have happened on its own as they moved. It was leagues nicer than he could have imagined, despite the smell. “I like you…-r company.”

“That's weird,” Remus' legs curled around Virgil’s waist. Virgil rested his hands on Remus’ hips. He listened as the creative trait's breathing evened out, vaguely aware that the situation was similar to the one just an hour or so before. Except, the roles had been reversed, of course.

“I missed you. I know I never told you, but I missed you.”

Virgil felt guilt, hot and molten, dripping down his throat. He couldn't lie; he hadn't missed Remus when he left. But now he did, in a roundabout sort of way. He missed what could have been, all of the possible understanding and friendship and likely more that he could have had for so long with Remus- all of which he'd let slip by for years. Due to just writing the artist off as disgusting, or unnecessary. 

And perhaps some of that misunderstanding was Remus' fault as well, but Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to hold it against him.

“You don't have to anymore. Miss me, I mean. I'm- fuck, I'm so sorry.”

“Me too,” Remus said, pulling back to settle Virgil with a happy-yet-tearfilled gaze.

“Aw, hey,” he tightened his grip at Remus' hips, smirking, “You're gonna fuck up all my hard work on that eyeliner, Re.”

Remus laughed, loud and shrieky and him, smiling unnaturally and brilliantly wide once again. Virgil's breath caught in his throat- not for the first time that day, he found himself trapped up in that wild, energetic face.

Before Virgil was entirely aware of what he was doing, he was leaning forward, pulling Remus in by the waist. When the cackling finally stopped short, so did he, both much too far and far too close to the Duke. 

He didn't have the chance to explain himself, or apologize, or anything, because soon enough understanding flashed in Remus' eyes.

“Oh, oh yes, oh hell fucking yes.” 

Remus didn’t wait a second longer before closing the distance and smashing his lips against Virgil’s. A startled sound bubbled up in his throat, dying quickly as he acclimated to what was happening. Just as he did, he was reciprocating the kiss. 

Their teeth clashed together uncomfortably, and Virgil was hyper-aware of the threat both his own and Remus’ fangs posed if they weren’t careful, making it far from the perfect first kiss. But he wouldn’t have wanted that anyway, nor would he have expected it. It was, somehow, better. 

Remus' hand dragged down Virgil's back, his fingers fitting onto the notches of the facet’s spine. Virgil shivered, pressing himself flush against the counter (and Remus) and digging his thumbs into the trait’s hips. The motion earned him a beautiful whine from the other as the kiss deepened, growing less awkward and more heated by the second.

Virgil was unaware of how much time was passing, but when they finally parted, both were short of breath and significantly disheveled. Remus had his back pressed up against the mirror, his hair even fuzzier than its usual state, expression dazed and face flushed. From what Virgil could make out in his own reflection, he wasn't much better off. 

Just as soon as they'd separated, Remus' hand was on his face, his thumb dragging just under Anxiety's lip.

“You fucked up your lipstick,” he teased.

“So did you,” Virgil answered with a smirk, leaning into the touch. 

“I guess we'll have to fix it later.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remus wriggled himself out of his pinned position, twisting around Virgil. He managed to situate himself and drop down from the bathroom counter, his manner suggestive, “Because all I wanna do right now is finish watching Cabin Fever with my new goth boyfriend and makeout during the boring parts.”

“Boyfriend?” Virgil ignored the jolt of warmth he felt at that, determined to stay nonchalant as he (subtly (not subtly)) slipped his hand into Remus’.

“You disagree?” 

Virgil pretended to think it over, leading them to the door and taking his time to click it open. 

“Nah, I don’t disagree,” he said finally, “I think I like the sound of that, actuall- yyyy.”

Virgil stopped short in the open doorway, voice dragging out in his shock. Behind him, he could feel Remus trying to crane around him to see what was happening, but Virgil didn’t move to accommodate him. Well, more accurately, he felt like he couldn’t really move at all, too busy parsing out the scene in front of him.

In the corner of the sectional- sharing a cushion- Janus and Patton sat, the former holding aloft a glass of wine, the latter snacking on a muffin. They sat with their legs tangled together, and had seemed to be engrossed with each other before the interruption. Both had paused mid-conversation to gawk in Virgil's direction, twin deer-in-headlights expressions on their faces. 

“What-” Virgil began, bewildered.

“The fuck?” Remus finished, pushing his way out of the bathroom.

Janus struggled to sit up into a more dignified position and take the reigns of the conversation. It didn't take him long to overcome his surprise at the interruption, his surveying gaze sweeping over the other two Dark Sides contemplatively. The look made Virgil’s skin crawl. 

“You know, we- well, we could ask you two-” he gestured at their interlocked hands, “-just the same question, couldn't we?” 

For a moment, there was silence. Virgil looked from Patton to Janus. Janus looked from Virgil to Remus. Patton looked at the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Remus looked at everyone and broke the silence.

“You didn't see us,” he announced, sidestepping his way to the staircase and dragging Virgil along with him, “And we didn't see you.” 

Janus squinted, tipped his head, and nodded conspiratorially. 

“Deal.”

With that little grant, Virgil and Remus darted up the stairs and into the sanctuary of the dimly lit hallway as quickly as they could. Luckily for them, Roman was probably either in a deep depression sleep or far into the imagination by now, and Logan Did Not Engage with Interpersonal Drama if he could help it. 

There was a second for appreciating the absurdity of the situation (and catching their breath), before either spoke to each other.

“I’ve got a huge flat screen,” Remus piped up at last, jerking his thumb in the direction of his room. 

“Any of us can conjure literally anything we want at any time, so I'm not sure what's impressive about that.”

Remus scowled, albeit playfully.

“Hush! Come watch someone slowly be consumed by a parasite with me!”

Virgil rolled his eyes and let Remus drag him off, his complaints accompanied by absolutely no efforts to avoid the situation. 

Things were weird, there was no denying that. Maybe they'd end up being that way for a while yet, and Virgil knew he had a lot of news to catch up on, but he found that thoughts like that were way back in his mind. Whatever happened, he reasoned, he would still have this comfort. The arms of someone he was finally coming to know wrapped tight around him, playing up his back, a mouth trailing kisses on his neck as he half-watched horror films. Yes, things would be difficult with the others, but it was secondary.

There was someone on his side now. Solidly, unarguably there for him. With him. And that made it all feel a little bit easier.

[chilling-seavey]

Daniel getting toddler Clem ready for the day (or at least attempting to lol) ~T

Stop I literally adore this omg my absolute favourite duo. 

And here’s our sweet lil faceclaim, probably from a snapchat he sends to Florence at the end of this blub to say they’re on their way-

Saturday, February 6, 2021

Two-year-old Clementine was an early riser. That could be said about any toddler really, but it just seemed that much more drastic when her parents were only twenty and still wanting a good sleep-in on Saturday mornings. This morning in particular, Clementine had slept over at the boys’ house, giving Florence a night alone with the baby and a break from constantly worrying about two little ones. So Clementine had a fun night with the guys, was bathed, fed, and tucked into bed in good time after two storybooks and an exhausted Daniel fell asleep not long after.

By 6:30am, Clementine was wide awake and shuffling out of her tiny bed across the room to run across the cold wood floors to the double bed. Her little hands grabbed at the comforter as she climbed up onto it, nearly faceplanting into the mattress in her youthful imbalance, before crawling over to sleeping Daniel. He was curled up away from her, fast asleep, and she knelt behind him to set one hand on his shoulder and reach over with her other to poke his eye.

His tired flinch had her giggling and she did it again, trying to pry open his eyelid with one tiny finger until he finally stirred and haphazardly pushed her hand away as he rolled over. He blinked open his eyes to focus on the toddler beside him, barely managing a half smile as he was still waking up.

“Dada!” Clementine shrieked loudly, throwing herself on top of him.

“Oh my gosh.” Daniel laughed tiredly, pulling the blankets up around her too. “Good morning, Clemmy.”

She tossed a leg over his torso and cuddled up against his chest and Daniel smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her messy blonde hair, rubbing little circles over her back. He was hoping that would mean a good few more minutes of sleep but barely 45 second later Clementine was getting up again, kneeling him right in the stomach, and sliding off the bed.

“Hey, where are you going?” Daniel grabbed her wrist before she could run for the door, making her look back at him with a cheeky giggle. “I thought we were having cuddle time.”

“No!” Clementine yanked her hand out of his and rushed for the door, going up on her tiptoes to open it.

Daniel was right behind her to make sure she didn’t fall down the stairs that were right outside his bedroom door, and he held her hand on the way down. At the bottom, Clementine jumped onto the floor and took off for the kitchen, reaching up to try and open the fridge herself. Daniel scooped her up with a tired sigh and he started to get her breakfast together with the toddler sat on his hip. She kept her head resting on his shoulder as he worked, pulling out a plastic bowl from the cupboard and pouring in a small serving of Cheerios and milk followed by a sippy cup of apple juice.

“Juice please.” she babbled, hold out her hand towards the counter where her breakfast was sat.

“Good manners.” Daniel praised softly, passing her the cup before taking the package of strawberries from the fridge. He closed it with his elbow and struggled to open the package with one hand but managed to take out three large berries and rinsed them under the tap.

Clementine watched him work quietly as she sipped her juice, one arm tossed around his shoulders and her little fingers twisted through the end of his hair, her head leaning against his. Daniel hesitated a moment after he set the knife on the cutting board and started to set the toddler on the ground so he could safely chop up the fruit.

“No, dada!” Clementine whined, clinging tighter onto his neck.

“Just for a second.” Daniel tried.

“No!” she cried, offering an obviously forced sniffle to which he just sighed in defeat and stood back up, hiking her higher onto his hip. Her cheeky smile was hidden behind her cup.

So Daniel was stuck trying to cut up the strawberries one-handed, meaning the slices were incredibly mangled and unattractive but he dumped them in the cereal anyway and left the dishes to be cleaned up later. The house was completely silent as everyone was still sleeping and Daniel and Clementine sat together at the dining room table and ate breakfast; Clementine with her cereal and Daniel with his simple protein bar.

Clementine held her spoon in the air and reached into the bowl with her left hand to pull out one of the strawberries between her tiny thumb and pointer finger. She looked over at Daniel and giggled.

“Don’t play with your food, silly girl.” he tisked lightly, reaching over to steer her spoon back to her bowl as milk was dripping onto the table.

Clementine moved her hand off the table and made direct eye contact with him before dropping the piece of strawberry on the floor.

“Oh my gosh, Clementine Ophelia.” Daniel scolded softly, bending down to pick it up and he tossed it onto the counter. He looked back at her just as she had picked up another strawberry piece and held it off the table again. “No, no. No more.” he grabbed her wrist to gently push it towards her mouth, “That’s for eating.”

The two-year-old only giggled loudly as she ate the strawberry from her fingers.

“Come on. Eat up.” Daniel picked up the spoon from where she had left it on the table.

“No! I do it!” Clementine whined, prying his hand off the spoon so she could pick it up herself and dip it back into her bowl.

Daniel sighed tiredly at the toddler’s determination and constant desire to push buttons but he still smiled warmly at her through another bite of his lame breakfast as he watched her eat. Clementine hummed a little tune to herself as she ate her cereal, her legs kicking back and forth under the table and Daniel couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

He finally got up to throw out the protein bar wrapper and clean up the breakfast prep dishes as Clementine finished up her cereal.

“Done, Dada!” she shouted as she slid off the chair and made a beeline for the living room.

“Good girl, Clemmy.” Daniel said as he cleared her dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher.

Clementine grabbed the tv remote and helped herself to the buttons until Daniel came over to help her turn it on and switch to the kids’ channel.

“One show and then we’ll get dressed, okay?” he offered, sitting back on the couch and pulled her up beside him. Clementine cuddled right into his side, her wide eyes fixed on the tv as she was wrapped up in his arms. Daniel nearly fell back asleep, his head resting gently on hers and just holding her close in the dimly lit living room. They definitely watched more than just one episode with Daniel snoozing peacefully and the cheeky toddler not bothering to wake him up. Well, until he actually fell asleep and had started leaning on her until she was nearly falling over and had to wake him up.

“Dada! Stop!” she pushed her hand against his head to get him off her.

“Oh my gosh, sorry, baby.” Daniel mumbled, sitting up quickly and rubbing his hand over his eyes to try and wake himself up. He reached into his pocket for his phone, seeing that it was a good hour later, “Oh my. Okay, time to get dressed. We’re supposed to meet Mommy in an hour.”

He scooped her up off the couch and turned off the tv before leading her up the stairs. He got her into his room and striped completely down before she became way too interested in the keyboard across the room to even try to pay attention to him. It was sort of a cute sight – something you might see in a Norman Rockwell painting – with the naked toddler reaching up on her tiptoes to press at the piano keys.

“Darling Clementine.” Daniel sang softly from his spot on the floor.  

She turned over her shoulder to look at him with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue eyes that seemed to shimmer in the morning sun that was peeking through the curtains. It only made her dark blonde hair glisten lighter and her curls fell messily around her sweet face. She was gorgeous. And Daniel was head over heels for her.

“Come get dressed, beautiful girl.”

With one more plink of a piano key, Clementine rushed back over to him and nearly fell on his lap.

“There’s my girl. Let’s get some clothes on you, hm?” Daniel chuckled, peppering kisses over her chubby cheeks. She held onto his shoulders and he shuffled her underwear and pants up her legs. He hummed softly as he dressed her, having to nearly push her arm through the holes of her sweater because she was so wriggly that morning and wanting to look at everything in his room.

She seemed to make up a game that entertained her to no end as he sat her on his lap to try and do her hair, constantly pointing at a random object and going, “Dada, what’s that?” and his half energetic responses would have her laughing no matter how plain the item.

“That’s my backpack.”

“That’s my plant.”

“That’s my stapler.”

Clementine tossed her head back to look up at him, making him mess up his attempt at braiding her hair, and pointed a finger in his face, “Dada, what’s that?”

“That’s my nose, you silly girl. Now can you sit still and let me do your hair?” Daniel lowered her hand to her lap with a small chuckle. Clementine only giggled to herself.

With two hair clips held between his lips and two small hair ties looped around his finger, Daniel focused on brushing out her thin hair and separating it in half. He then took one side and started to braid it, working slowly to try and remember how Florence had taught him. Right over middle, left over middle, right over…

Working with a squirming two-year-old wasn’t making it any easier and Daniel had to try and hold her down with one arm while trying to braid with both hands. Finally, he finished and tucked the hair clips in her hair and turned her around to see his handiwork. The pigtail braids were quite lopsided and had way too many flyaways, but he still smiled with pride. He let her entertain herself with the piano while he got himself changed quickly and then brought her to the bathroom. He sat her up on the counter and handed her the small toothbrush with a drop of toothpaste on it and then grabbed his own for himself. They brushed their teeth together, Clementine keeping her eyes on him to copy his every move.

Finally, Daniel packed up her things back into her bag and then packed his own overnight bag before pulling on his winter denim jacket and a purple beanie, Clementine watching him finish getting ready from her spot sitting cross-legged on his bed.

“Okay, little miss,” Daniel said with a tired sigh as he tossed their bags over his shoulder and held out his hand for her, “I think we’re all set.”

“All set!” Clementine agreed, taking his big hand in her tiny one and shot him a grin as they started for the front door.

[verai-marcel]

First Into The Night (RDR2 Fanfic, 18+ ONLY)

Summary: You are a woman on the eve of your engagement, cursing the world as your parents had decided that the man for you was someone you had never met, and from what you had heard from the servants, he wasn’t a good man. Running away to the city, you run into a stranger, an outlaw with the most beguiling eyes and tempting smile, who promises to be gentle. Will you go with him when he holds his hand out to you?

Author’s Notes: Average marriage age in 1890 for women is about 22 years, according to the US census. So I wrote Reader as older than that, because I came up with a line and I really wanted to use it. That’s my one conceit of this request. Everything else is from my dear requester, @uwulicious, who wanted a low honor Arthur tempting a virgin reader.

Tags: virgin reader, Low Honor Arthur, dubcon, dirty talk, seduction, blow jobs, rough sex

Find it on AO3 here!

The gas lamps, the clip-clop of horses drawing carriages, and the crowds around the gambling houses and hotels made you shake with excitement. You had finally, finally gotten out of the house, free from your stuffy relatives, escaping from under their noses while the servants were busy preparing for tomorrow night.

Ugh. Tomorrow night could just stay away. Your fiance, chosen for you by your parents, of course, was supposed to come and officially meet you, and your family and his were to have a nice meal together.

But you wanted none of that. You wanted freedom. You wanted love, like in the romance novels you loved so dearly. Where a man would whisk you away and kiss you and hug you all night long. And ravish you, whatever that meant. It sounded appealing.

After wandering around the city, your head up in the sky with thoughts of the last book you read, you looked around and realized you had lost your way. The lamps here were less polished, the road less clean. Even the lights coming from the buildings here were less warm, more dim, and seemed a bit more reddish in hue. You turned around, trying to retrace your steps. Walking past a saloon, a large man stumbled out of the double doors, looked around, and spotted you. He instantly went still for a heartbeat, before straightening up and sauntering towards you.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” His voice was like velvet against your ears, though his words were slightly slurred.

“Hello, sir,” you greeted in response. You wrinkled your nose; the man smelled of whiskey.

He looked you up and down, raising an eyebrow. “This your first time on the street?”

“Yes, I’ve never done this before,” you answered, not quite understanding what he meant.

His eyes glowed. “Well then, c’mon. I’ll be gentle.” He took your hand, and started pulling you in a different direction. You tried to pull your hand back, but then he turned and stepped into the lamp light, giving you a clear view of his face. His eyes were warm and amused, while the smile on his full lips gave you shiver of a different kind of excitement. His jaw was dusted with the return of a beard, and his body was the kind you wanted to have wrapped around you, keeping you safe.

Perhaps he would hug you, kiss you, and even show you what books meant by ravish?

“Don’t be frightened, little angel. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

You nodded and followed him into the night.

***

He took you down a few winding alleys until you saw a small hotel. It was more like an inn, with only a few rooms centered around a small courtyard in the back. The room he took you into was small, but tidy and clean. As you walked inside and looked around, you heard the door shut, and the shuffle of clothes falling to the ground. You turned to see the man unbuttoning his shirt, his jacket and gun belt already off.

You gasped and stumbled backwards until your legs hit the bed, and you fell back onto the mattress.

He pulled off his shirt and threw it on the floor, his grin turning wolfish as he stalked towards you. His arms caged you in, his hands close to your face as he leaned over you.

“What’s your name, angel?”

You told him just your first name.

“Lovely.” He leaned in slowly and oh so gently pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and delicate.

“May I have your name?” you whispered.

“Arthur Morgan.”

“Mr. Morgan, I’m not sure I understand what is going on,” you said, a bit embarrassed.

Arthur stood up and looked at you for a few moments. “How old are you?”

You told him as you sat up. He let out a chuckle.

“You’re a bit past marryin’ age; you shoulda known what I was askin’ of you.”

You pouted. Wasn’t your fault you didn’t know much outside of your home.

Arthur put his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, didn’t mean anythin’ by it.” He quickly switched topics. “So why were you out on the street?”

“I… I got lost. I ran away from home.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“My parents are forcing me to marry someone I’ve never met. And I’ve heard things about him from the servants. I don’t want to marry him!”

He nodded, listening to you vent about your life situation. As you groused about your overbearing parents and the terrible things you had heard about your groom-to-be, Arthur had slowly come closer to you, sitting by your side, holding your hand, rubbing your shoulders and back, his hand feeling so good on you. You glanced over at his chest, scarred and dusted with hair. Overcome with the urge to touch him, you quickly looked away, trying to control yourself.

“Sounds like you need something to get your mind off your situation,” he murmured, his hand massaging your neck. You moaned, leaning into his touch. He caressed your cheek, turning you to face him. He nibbled your lower lip. You leaned closer to him, letting him lead, learning how to kiss him. His tongue played with yours, slowly coaxing you to do the same. You didn’t know a kiss could be so sensual, so exciting.

He slowly leaned you back down again, letting some of his weight push against you as he stroked your side, a meandering touch, trailing heat down your body as he continued to kiss you. Then he started leaving sweet kisses on your cheek, your chin, your neck. When his lips grazed the top of your blouse, he reached up to start unbuttoning, and you breathed hard.

“Sir, I....”

“Hmm?”

“I’m supposed to remain chaste for my fiance.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the proper thing to do!”

“You ain’t bein’ proper now, are ya?”

You stopped to think about this. He was right; you had run away, you had followed a strange man into his hotel room, and now, he was above you, touching you and kissing you.

“You never rolled around with a man before?”

“No…” you answered, trailing off. After fidgeting for a few moments, you pushed him away and stood up. “This is too much,” you mumbled as you tried to step away.

He chuckled as he stood up with you. “Let’s start slow. You alright with a hug?”

You took a breath and nodded. Hugging was relatively safe.

Arthur took a step closer to you, placing his hands on your shoulders. He gently brought you into his wide chest, and you wrapped your arms around his torso. His hands stroked down your back until he had wrapped you up into a warm embrace, feeling his muscles against your cheek. You could hear the steady drum of his heart, and felt him kiss the top of your head. You felt protected.

The hug went on, and you never wanted him to let you go. The circle of his arms made you feel so safe that you didn’t notice him subtly drawing you back to the bed until he had sat down upon it, pulling you into his lap.

“Wait!” you exclaimed, thinking he was going to go too far again, but Arthur just kept holding you, rubbing your back until you calmed back down.

“I said I’d just hug you until you were ready for more,” he said, his hands stroking your belly and your shoulders, your sides, your hips. You clung to him, your breaths becoming shallow as he touched you. Though he wasn’t touching you in your private areas, just his warm hands on you was exhilarating enough.

“I… I think I’m ready for a little more,” you said in a hushed tone.

“How ‘bout a bit of kissin’?”

“Alright,” you replied, closing your eyes.

Arthur softly kissed your forehead. Then the tip of your nose. He pecked your cheek. And finally, he kissed your lips, and you sighed happily. He gently coaxed your mouth open once more, and soon you were making out with him, tongues warring for dominance, his hands all over your back, crushing you to his hard body. You learned quickly from before, and were soon pushing him on the bed, eager for more.

“Pushy lil’ thing, ain’tcha?”

You giggled; you were drunk on this feeling. You felt bold enough to ask him something that had been on your mind all night. “Arthur?”

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“What....” You fumbled, but took a deep breath and asked, even though it would make you look like a fool. “What does it mean to ravish someone?”

You noticed Arthur’s eyes began to glimmer with a dark heat, and his lips curved in a mischievous smile. “Oh, you innocent angel. I’ll teach you.”

“Just tell me!” you insisted.

“Naw, much more… educational… if I just ravish you instead.”

That was all the warning you got before he held you in his arms and rolled you over on the bed, pinning you down. His hands went up to your blouse buttons once more and he unbuttoned each one, not letting you stop him, even as you tugged at his arms.

“Wait…”

“You wanted to know, didn’t ya?”

“Yes, but…”

“Do you really want me to stop? Or is it just your precious etiquette that’s stoppin’ ya from enjoyin’ yerself?”

He stared hard at you, a passion in his eyes that made your body hot with desire. What did you truly want? As you took a deep breath, you felt with your body, your heart, the heat pooling at your core. And you came to a conclusion.

“Don’t stop.”

Arthur’s smile was sensual, his look promising an erotic experience that you’d never forget. He continued to unbutton your blouse, pulling it out of your skirt and helping you shrug it off. Your chemise was thin and showed your body through the nearly translucent fabric. Then he quickly unbuttoned your skirt, pulling it off you with hurried tugs.

As you lay on the bed in just your under things, you suddenly felt shy, and tried to cover yourself. But Arthur wouldn’t let you; he grabbed your wrists and held them with one hand over your head. He grabbed the drawstring of your drawers and pulled, and then dragged your drawers off you completely, exposing your most private center. You started to scream, but he immediately clamped down on your mouth.

“Don’t scream, darlin’. You said you wanted this.”

You nodded. He let go of your mouth, his hand gently stroking your cheek as he moved to help you take off your chemise, the fabric dragging along your nipples, making you sigh as even the slightest movement on your sensitive skin aroused you. Now you were nude, all of you exposed to a man you just met, but whose body you wanted to envelop you. You wanted him to subdue you, to teach you what a man could do to you.

But you started shaking, regardless of what you were wanting.

Arthur saw you, trembling like a scared rabbit, and lay down next to you, stroking your side in a soothing pattern. “Too fast?”

You nodded.

“I said I’d be gentle. I didn’t lie,” he murmured, as he got up to take off his pants. You watched as he revealed the rest of his body to you, his scars and muscles telling a story of a man who had seen a lot, a man who had a whole life of adventure and hard work, and yet here he was, laying down next to you, taking your hand and placing it on his chest so you could feel the constant rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Breathe, angel.” He took your hand and brought it to his hard shaft. It felt strange in your hand, hard yet soft, warm, pulsing.

“Feel what you’ve done to me,” he whispered in your ear. “Gonna make sure you feel it too.”

You looked at him in surprise as he shifted down the bed until he was in between your legs, spreading you open. You instinctively tried to close them, but he was too strong, and you made yourself relax your muscles, feeling him caress your inner thighs. His tongue traced circles along your skin, moving closer to your virgin hole.

“Oh lord, what are you doing-” You couldn’t speak after he put his mouth on your clit. He lapped at that little spot, making you gasp and writhe with pleasure; how could one small move of his tongue bring so much bliss through your body? You felt yourself growing wetter as he tongued and sucked on you. Feeling him tease a finger inside you, you bucked your hips. He chuckled at your movements before kissing your nether lips once more.

Arthur finally came up for air, and licked his lips. “You’re like a fine whiskey, sweetheart.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The longer the whiskey ages in the barrel, the better it tastes when it’s finally released.” He slid up your body and licked your neck, making you shiver with desire. “I can’t wait to taste your release.”

He kissed down your body once more until he was between your legs, pleasuring your clit with his tongue. You felt him finger you again, pushing a second finger inside you, stretching you open as he brought waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Those waves reached a peak, and you toppled over the edge, screaming his name as you spasmed on the bed, your legs clamping his head tightly as he drew out the last crest of your climax.

When you finally relaxed, your legs fell limp onto the bed. You looked a right mess: your skin was heated and your hair messed up from how much you were wracking your head back and forth from his ministrations. Every breath you took was deep, a slight tremor accompanying each exhalation. That had been the first time you had felt such physical pleasure, and you were afraid you were going to pass out.

“We ain’t done yet, angel,” he said as he climbed back onto the bed, lifting you up easily and moving you to the middle of the mattress. He sat back on his knees, stroking his cock as he pushed your legs open. “My turn.”

“Wait…”

“I can’t wait any longer, angel.”

“Please, Arthur,” you begged. You didn’t know how his huge shaft would fit inside.

He ignored you as he nudged your opening, and began pushing inside of you. He held your legs open as he slowly sank into you while you writhed, reaching up to push against him.

“Arthur,” you whined, “it’s too much, it’s too big!”

He reached down and teased your clit, stopping his forward momentum for a minute to arouse you into a more consenting mood. Your breaths were ragged; the pain from taking a man for the first time began to subside as his fingers on your clit and his other hand playing with your breasts were bringing your pleasure back to the forefront of your senses. When you looked like you were ready, Arthur leaned forward once more.

“Such a good fit,” he muttered, trying hard to even his breathing. You could tell he was controlling himself, holding back from whatever it was he wanted to do. Staying as still as you could, you watched him enter you, the last inch of him disappearing inside of you in a swift thrust.

You both moaned at the full contact. Knowing that you were ruined and not caring, you cried out when Arthur pulled almost all the way out before slamming back inside of you.

“You wanna know what people like me say instead of ‘ravish’?” he asked you as he started to move his hips, shallowly at first.

“What, do you, say?” you asked, unable to keep your voice in an even tone.

He fell upon you then, crushing your body into bed, his hairy chest rubbing against yours. His tongue flicked out to lick your earlobe before he whispered huskily into your ear.

“I say ‘fuck’. As in, I’m gonna fuck your tight pussy until you come all over my cock.”

You nearly passed out from all of his coarse language. You hadn’t heard such naughty things directed at you before, and your heart beat fast just thinking about what he had said, and what he was doing to you now. He was taking you completely; all you could focus on was his cock, hammering away at you as you spread your legs for him, eager to give everything to him.

“Sir,” you gasped, “I… I want more!”

“More what, darlin’?”

“I don’t know, just… more….” you replied, not knowing what it was you longed for.

He laughed softly and pulled out of you, flipping you roughly onto your stomach. He pulled you up onto your knees, took your hands and placed them on the headboard.

“Hold tight,” he murmured into your ear, then impaled you from behind. He was entering you from a different angle, deeper, harder, and it made you sob softly from the feeling of being filled so fully. Not waiting for you to be ready for this new position, Arthur took you hard, his arms on either side of yours as he too, gripped the headboard. His hips slammed into your ass, the slapping sounds of wet flesh filling the air as he single-mindedly rutted into you, using your body like it was his to own.

As your mind fell into a lustful trance, all you could think was that this carnal possession was what you needed. It was all you ever needed. And when he reached around with one hand to tease your clit, then pinching it hard, you felt yourself at the edge once more, the wanton rapture almost too much for your body to handle.

“Come for me, angel. I want your pleasure, I want to feel it around me,” Arthur whispered into your ear.

Like he was the master of your body, his words pushed you into a wild release, giving you a feeling of unadulterated euphoria that soared through you. It shook you, wrung you out until you could barely breathe, and even towards the end of it, you could still feel him pumping his cock in an erotic rhythm the two of you shared.

But all too soon, he pulled himself out of you and grabbed you by the back of the neck. Dragging you in front of him, he pointed his cock at your face. He pinched your nose, forcing you to gasp for air.

“Taste yerself on my dick,” he growled, shoving himself into your open mouth. Your sound of surprise was muffled as he grabbed the back of your head and forced you back and forth along his length.

“Use your tongue,” he instructed, and you learned quickly how to make him moan and hiss with pleasure. He didn’t stop, he used your mouth selfishly until he suddenly held you still. With a deep growl, he thrust once before shooting his hot, salty, bitter spend into your mouth. You choked, not used to such a taste in your mouth. As you were not really expecting it, you let some of it dribble from your mouth.

“Swallow it,” Arthur commanded as he pulled his softening member from you, using his fingers to push some of his spend back into your mouth. You licked his fingers, not really liking the flavor, but seeing the heat in his eyes, you only wanted to please him more.

He smiled down at you, petting your head like a favorite pet. “Good girl,” he drawled, and you smiled happily. Getting off the bed, he led you to the wash basin and cleaned you up before cleaning himself, and gently took you to bed, holding you in his arms. He kissed you tenderly, telling you how good you were, how brave you were for taking such a big man like himself.

“I’ll take you home in the morning,” he mumbled as he started to fall asleep. As much as you wanted to run away, you knew that it wouldn’t be right. At least you had this one night to remember being free.

***

The next morning, as the two of you got dressed, Arthur kept sighing. You finally had to ask why.

“It ain’t right, ya know? If you don’t wanna marry him, why should you?”

You smiled. When you woke up this morning, you were already thinking of standing up to your parents and telling them what you thought. It had occurred to you that you had not said outright that you didn’t want to marry that man. Maybe they’d listen. Maybe they wouldn’t. But at least you could say that you took a stand and finally said your truest words. You told Arthur as much.

“That’s good,” he said after listening to your decision. “Stand up for what you want. It’s your life.”

You and he left the hotel, got onto his horse, and took the road back to your estate, after you told him roughly where it was. When you saw the familiar gates get close, Arthur slowed his horse.

“I can’t take you much further. Folk like me don’t belong in a place like this.”

He helped you off the horse and walked you up to the gate. You stared down the road, then back at Arthur.

“Thank you,” you said, getting up on your tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll never forget you.”

Arthur just smiled shyly. It was a good look on him. “Take care of yerself,” he said as he gave you a hug.

You smiled and nodded as you squeezed his arm one last time before walking down the path to your house. You looked back, and he gave you a two-fingered wave before getting back on his horse and riding away.

As you walked down the path, steeling yourself for your confrontation with your folks, you reached into your pockets and was surprised to find a piece of paper shoved in one of them. You pulled it out and read it, surprised by the flowing script.

My little angel, If you ever want more, write a letter to Tacitus Kilgore and ask for some refreshment. I’ll come find you. -A.M.

You grinned and felt hope blossom in your chest.

--------------------

End Notes: So “fallen angel” was a term used for ladies of the night in the Old West. (Source: https://www.legendsofamerica.com/we-paintedlady/) Therefore, calling Reader “little angel” is sort of a reference to that, but also that she’s smaller than Arthur.

I hope this matched your request!!! Thank you for your patience!

[futurewriter2000]

Remuseta (Sirius x Remus)

A/N: Made a short one but I hope you like it. I kind of listen to lots of George Micheal writing this. Soo,,,watch out for typos.

Request: Can you write a Sirius Black X Remus Lupin? I would love to see one where Remus looses a bet/ has a dare? And has to wear a dress/feminine clothing and Sirius starts flirting with him and loves Remus in a skirt? You know? I just want someone to write Remus in a dress honestly

Warning: The Word Will is spelled with a capital w.. I don’t know why.

Xx

The tension was real. The six of them were staring at eachother in a circle. James had switched clothes with Lilly, Peter had bright green dyed hair, Marlene had all kinds of things stuck on her face and Sirius had african braids. The only one left was Remus. That smug face of his, he could never lose this game.

"Are you ready?" said Peter, looking around. They were sending eachother ugly looks before they spinned the bottle. It landed on Remus.

"Animal." he smiled.

"Bear." continued Marlene, who was sitting next to him.

"Cat."

"Deer." said Lily.

"Elephant." said James

And it went off for ages, changing the topics to potions, magical creatures, alcohol, ... Remus didn't give up. He was a smart man and he was better with words than any of them. Untill Sirius finally changed to something completely different. "Quidditch." he smirked at Remus.

Remus started to panic. He didn't know anything related to quidditch that starts with the letter R. "Urr....R-r-?" he tried but was failing.

Everybody jumped on their feet and started cheering. "Thank the loving god!!" yelled Lilly, who was excited the most. "I need to give him a dare."

"No way, Lils. He made me eat that squiddy thingy." argued Marlene.

"No wait! I got it...um....Quaffle?" he realized its not a word to and R ." No wait I'll think of it I swear!"

"Sorry Monny. Rules are the rules, especially if they are made by you. And you can't break your own rules." said James, who walked behind him and started massaging his shoulders.

"I can change them." said Remus, trying to get away with it. Honestly he made up the game, he thought he couldn't lose at his own game.

"You try that and I'll hex the hell out of you!" roared Lilly, pulling out her wand.

"Feisty!" said Sirius enthusiasticly. "Honestly guys I would prefer daring Remus myself but we can all agree Lilly deserves to do this. He did turn her into a worm after all."

"I dare him to wear a dress." said Lilly with an evil look in her eye.

"Seriously?" said Sirius, looking at her. "That is the worst dare ever. He turned you into a worm and you give him an easy go." 

“I dare him to wear a dress for the whole weekend.” she finished.

“No!” yelled Remus standing up and walking away. 

James and Sirius ran after him and gripped him under his arms. “Now, now Moony. Don’t let you fear of Lillies get in a way of your dreams of becoming a famous model. You know you Will love it.” said Sirius, throwing him back on the armchair.

Lilly slowly walked over, with her wand in her hand, waving it like she just doesn’t care. She put her hands on the armrest and leaned forward. “So? Shall we start.” hse smiled mischiviously.

---

"Pads!" warned James. "Don't you dare! Don't you DARE!"

Sirius was running around with a golden ball in his hands, James chasing him. “Oh look. I am James Potter. I am the best seeker on the Quidditch team. Head boy and completly in love with my -oh-” he gasped and touched his heart dramatically. “My Lillyflower.” teased Sirius in a girly voice.

“I don’t sound like that! Now give it back.”yelled James grabbing the ball in his hands. “Ha! Got it!” he then looked at the ball. It was blury. He looked up to Sirius who was even more blury, but he could definetly see the grinn on his face. “Fuck you Sirius!”

Sirius tried on his glasses but quickly took them off as his eyes were tearing up. “Damn Prongs. How blind are you?” 

“Not blind enough to tackle you!” he yelled running towards Sirius and knocking him on the ground. There was a lot of wrestling going on with Peter just watching it happen from the couch. 

Sudennly Lilly came down and cleared her throat. Sirius and James stopped fighting and looked up at her. “Ladies and idiots. I present to you, new and improved Remus John Lupin!” she yelled and waved her hand towards the door. The door didn’t open and the silence was echoing through the whole room. Lilly glared at the door and this time she sounded angrier. “Remus John Lupin!” she yelled louder.

“No way!” yelled Remus behind the door.

“Remus get your ass down here or I swear to God I Will drag you out of there!” yelled Lilly.

There was a sudden crack and the door slowly swung open. Remus didn’t knew if he should even step out. ‘Maybe dying isn’t that bad.’ he thought. He stepped out in a long red dress. His hair were clipped back and he had red lipstick on. The dres was a bit puffy on the end and his shoulders were too big for the straps. A big laughter started echoing through the room, the loudest was of course Sirius’, but everybody was rolling on the ground.

James whistled and winked at Remus. “Looking good Moony!”

“Give us a twirl gorgeous!” yelled Mary.

“What’s up hotstuff!” said Marlene, winking at him.

“You know what guys. If I have to wear this, than I might as well work it.” said Remus, flipping his imaginary hair and walking around the room like a model.

Sirius walked next to him with a big smirk on his face. “Hey Remuseta. Are you from Tennassee, because you’re the only ten I see.” 

“Remuseta?” snorted Remus, rolling his eyes. “Better find a better pick up line than this Black if you want all of this.” he moved his hands against his body to his boobs, stuffed with socks.

James and the others started laughing. This time at Sirius. “Damn Pads. You just got rejected by Moony.” said James. 

“No, no. I got this.” said Sirius, rubbing his hands together and fixing his hair. He leaned on the door and looked at Remus. “You know Moony. This lipstic really points out your eyes. They are beautifully green.I usually see them only on the sun, but damn you glow.” 

Remus felt a big rush on his cheeks. Why was he blushing? “Sirius stop.” he said and sat down on a chair. He looked at Lilly, who had a big smug face looking at him. “Are you happy now Evans?”

“Revenge is sweet.” was all she replied before walking away, pulling James with her.

Sirius was staring at Remus. “You know Moony. This dress really shows your legs.” he smiled, getting a snort of laughter from Marlene and Mary. 

“Thank you Sirius. I shaved them just for you.” he said, uncovering his leg from the puffy dress.

“So. How does it feel?” asked Marlene. 

“Kind of breezy.” said Remus, tapping on the puffy dress. “I swear I kind of like it. Makes me feel powerful and hot.” 

“ Than you better not take it off. Only if you want to.” winked Sirius, getting another eyeroll from Remus.

“In your dreams Black. “ retorder Remus,

“Oh my god. Get a room.” said Marlene, rolling her eyes.

“Oh stop it Marls. You are just jealous because Remuseta looks hotter in your dress than you.” said Sirius, winking at Remus again.

“Please stop calling me Remuseta.” sighed Remus, tapping the puffy skirt again. “I feel so hot in this dress.”

“That makes two of us.” added Sirius.

“That’s it. I’m going.” said Marlene and stood up. She looked at Remus angrly and spoke. “You can keep the dress. You already streched it.”

“What’s her problem?” said Remus, watching Marlene storm into her room.

“I’m still waiting for my twirl Remus.” interrupted Mary, sitting next to Peter. 

Remus smiled and quickly stood up. “Okay. You ready?” he beamed. He twirled around and the red dress, beautifully spinned around, leaving pieces of glitter behind.

Mary giggled and walked over to Remus. She took his hand and started spinning him. “Twirl my Remuseta. Twirl!” she giggled. 

Remus stopped spinning. He felt dizzy and everything started spinning. Suddenly he felt arms from behind, keeping him up while he was struggling with his balance. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed. I think that glitter did something to your head.” said Sirius.

Remus still felt dizzy. It was like he was drunk but he didn’t drink a thing. He just felt dizzy and the picture kept getting blurrier. Sirius looked at giggling Mary and gave her a questioning look. “Why are you laughing?” 

“Glitter!” she beamed and threw her arms in the air. 

“Glitter!” yelled Remus and ran over to Mary. 

“Evans!” yelled Sirius. 

A door swung open and a big red head popped out. “Yes?”

“What did you do?” he asked, keeping Mary and Remus from twirling any more.

“Like I said. Revenge is sweet.” she smiled and closed the door. 

Sirius looked over to his giggling friends and then looked at Peter, who was snoring on the couch. “ Great.” he sighed. “Come on gorgeous.”

“He think I’m gorgeous.” giggled Remus.

“I was talking to her Remuseta. You are smoking hot.” he winked at him again, getting another giggle from him. “Let’s go now.” he said, wrapping his arm around his waist and dragging him back into his dorm. “God, you are so much heavier than you look.”

“Never call a lady fat, Sirius!” yelled Mary from downstairs, still twirling around. 

“Did you call me fat, Sirius?” said Remus offended.

“No. You are just glitter drunk.”

“Glitter!” yelled Remus, waving his hands in the air. 

“Fucking Evans.” sighed Sirius.

[thewaterwolfe]

all the warm colors

yes hello this is a short story i wrote be gentle (sorry it’s a lil long) 

***

This is the place I know like the back of my hands. The trees have sheltered me since I was little, with the branches and leaves whispering in my ears with every sway of the wind. This is the place where we would run to after school despite our parents’ objections. It was home when there wasn’t a home to go to.

Except, tonight, it’s a mystery to me.

The trees do not sway. They do not whisper to me. They are silent, unmoving, and for the first time, I feel like a stranger in these woods.

I trace my fingers alongside the rough bark of the tree. White pine, I think, and look towards the canopy, searching for any piece of recognition, but in the darkness of the night, my mind is anything but clear.

White pine, I think again, although this time the words escape my lips.

I stop walking and grab my notebook from my pack, fishing my phone out of my pocket and switching on the flashlight. I skim through the pages of my notebook, mind racing, trying to pinpoint the location.

Up ahead, there’s a snapping sound followed by a shout, and my head jerks up from my notes.

“Fuck, Tanner, I can’t see anything anymore. Gimme the flashlight.”

“Use your own damn phone, Jude.”

The two shadows—Tanner and Jude—are fifteen yards ahead of me, just barely illuminated by Tanner’s scanty phone flashlight. Everything—coming back here, to the woods, to the clearing—was their idea. Tradition, Jude had called it. Although this year, it was just a bit different.

I inhale sharply and block out the thought. I look back down at my notes.

“That’s your own fault,” Tanner is saying.

“Yeah, but if you hadn’t forgotten the drinks we wouldn’t have had to go back, and we wouldn’t be in this mess, now would we?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Tanner groans. “I drove us here, so I can just as quickly leave without you.” There’s a pause and then Tanner says, “How’s it going back there, navigator?”

Distracted once again, I close my book and shove it back into my bag.

“There should be the clearing about fifteen yards to your right,” I call to Tanner, quickening my pace to catch up to them.

Sure enough, the clearing’s there, seeming to appear out of thin air.

“What would we do without our little forest walker, huh, Adam?” Tanner claps me on the back, a little too hard, and I stumble forward a bit. I don’t respond, just shrug my bag onto my shoulder a little more and step over the thickett into the center of the clearing where our campsite sits, untouched.

“Remind me again why we didn’t leave someone here to watch our stuff?” Jude questions, but it’s more directed towards Tanner.

“Who’s gonna touch our stuff?” Tanner responds. “No one’s been back here for a while. And besides, Adam knows the best way to and from here.”

Jude lets out a defeated sigh and throws his pack onto the ground where it opens up, spilling its glorious contents: a dozen cans of bud lite and coke.

“And to think that I almost sprained my ankle three times just to get these,” Jude says, using his phone flashlight to scan the ground for any stray cans. I walk over to the fire pit and begin to kindle a fire, and within ten minutes we’re all lounging around the embers wrapped up in our sleeping bags with our backs propped up against the trees, music humming in the background. Tanner reaches for the bag and grabs two cans and cracks one open, slurping up the bubbles as they ooze out of the top. After his hefty gulp he tosses the other one to Jude and turns back to guzzling down his own drink. I roll out of my sleeping bag and reach over to Jude’s pack and take a beer for myself, trying to act unbothered. I tap the tab gently and meticulously, making a mental note to grab extra water for everyone later.

“Mmh,” Jude murmurs. “Cheap beer, my favorite.”

“Piss off if you don’t want it then, asshole,” Tanner says. “That’s money out of my pocket.”

Jude raises his hands in defense. “Don’t worry, it’s all good. I’m eighteen. My standards are low.”

“Cam,” I chime in, “would not stand for this mediocracy.”

“You know what, Adam?” Tanner says, and there’s a hint of mischief in his voice. “You’re right.” Tanner throws his sleeping bag off and reaches into Jude’s bag and pulls out, this time, a can of coke and shakes it like there’s no tomorrow and pops the tap, letting soda explode all over the three of us and quickly pours the rest of his bud lite into the soda and chugs the can, smashing it onto the ground once he’s done. I’m covered in sticky beer, but I manage a chuckle as Tanner lets out a long, putrid belch.

“There you go,” he says, bowing as Jude howls with laughter. “Typical Cam fashion.”

“Bravo,” Jude cheers. “Way to make an absolute fool of yourself. And thanks for the shower.”

“You’re just jealous,” he rebukes, “because you could never stomach it. Cam would be proud.”

I run my fingers through my sticky hair, catching Tanner take out another beer and toss his empty one to the side. I feel uneasy, but it’s not from the beer. Ignoring it, I reach over my head and pull off my shirt, setting it down beside me to dry. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, glancing at the time. 7:32. My thoughts settle down.

One hour and ten minutes until a year exactly, I think. What the fuck are we doing getting shit-faced? I look back down at my chest, still slick with beer. A wave of guilt and revulsion runs through my body, and I sit up sharply.

“This isn’t what Cam would want,” I mutter, almost to myself.

“What do you mean?” Jude asks.

I want to reply, but I’m not sure what to say. This all just feels wrong.

The fire crackles, breaking the silence.

“Of course this is what Cam would want!” Tanner cackles. “Are you serious? His three best friends chilling with some cold ones, per tradition, getting ready to party it up.”

Maybe that’s what you want, I think, but instead say, “I don’t know. It feels too quiet here. Like we’re disturbing the woods. Maybe…maybe Cam doesn’t want us here.”

“Well,” Tanner counters, turning up the music, “if I were him, I would certainly be wishing that I could join the party right now. And it’s just getting started.”

He pulls out a packet of Marlboros and hands one to each of us. None of us smokes. We just take it for the looks. Vintage street rat, Tanner calls it. I hold mine in my hand and twirl it through my fingers absentmindedly while Jude and Tanner stand up and began to howl with the music.

“This is for you, Cam!” Tanner shouts into the night. I want to get up and join them, to feel the buzz drown out all of my inhibitions, but I can’t shake my uneasy feeling. It’s the first time here without him, so the woods just feel vacant. They feel lonely, unfamiliar. I feel my thoughts begin to race (and there’s no stopping them this time), and my heart starts to pound (is this how he felt?). So I reach into my bag and pull out my notebook again, browsing through my notes. Years of mapping and rambles of notes and paintings—paintings with colors I haven’t touched in a year—litter the pages, and I know exactly where we are so I flip to the page, all the way in the back.

(Did he come to this spot?)

Hazlett Forest, it reads in my scribbles. December 12, 2013. It’s an old page, but it’s one that Cam and I put together. I continue reading.

The clearing; white pine and heavy, mossy ground. Thirty paces east from the little stream,  152 paces east from the lake.

I stop reading.

(I don’t want to think about the lake.)

I turn the page where there’s a polaroid clipped onto the outside of the page. It’s me and Cam in the clearing, all but fifteen years old. We still both had our braces, and Cam’s clunky glasses are sitting crookedly on his face matching perfectly with his crooked smile. That stupid, stupid grin and those stupid glasses. Sometimes I hate myself for not taking more pictures of us, because now I only have years-old pictures and sometimes I think I’m forgetting what he looks like and sometimes I’m scared that I’ll forget him all together and sometimes—

I slam the book closed and smack the back of my head onto the tree behind me, trying to silence the thoughts. I glance over at Jude and Tanner. Jude’s taken out his ukulele and is fiddling lazily with the strings and Tanner’s lying down, snoring lightly. Typical. Jude looks up and I catch his eye, and he nods in silent agreement.  He reaches over to the speaker and turns the music off while I begin picking up the empty beer and soda cans. After, I take a look at the time. 8:39. Shit, it’s been that long already? How is that possible? Throwing the thought to the side, I kick Tanner gently awake.

“Hey, it’s almost time,” I whisper, and Tanner stirs.

“I gotta take a leak,” Tanner mumbles, slowly getting up.

“Can’t you wait, like, five minutes?” I say impatiently.

“Dude, I gotta go when I gotta go.” Tanner begins stumbling away as I wave my hands indignantly.

“You’re gonna miss it,” I hiss, but Tanner waves his hand dismissingly.

“Forget it, Adam,” Jude says. “If he wants to miss it, it’s on him.”

“Fucking asshole,” I spit. “That’s all he’s been today.”

“We’re all just—you know—a little overworked,” Jude reassures me, and he takes a look at his watch. “One minute.” He smiles hopefully, but I can’t get over how selfish Tanner’s being. He was the one so adamant to do this, both he and Jude, and he’s going to miss it all, the most important part, all because he’s taking a fucking piss, all because—

“Adam,” Jude murmurs beside me.

“What?” I snap, turing to face Jude. He’s staring off into the distance, frozen in place.

“Adam,” he says again, raising his hand and pointing a finger to the treeline. “Is… that Cam?”

I squint into the distance and scan my eyes over the trees, and in the center of it all is, unmistakably, Cam. Even if it’s just his silhouette, there’s no mistaking his head of curly golden hair.

Heart racing, I scramble to grab my phone out of my pocket and turn on my flashlight, shining it into the distance.

“Cam?” I shout, pointing the flashlight at him. It passes over his figure, but in a flash, he darts away.

“Wait!” I hollar, and I’m suddenly running like a madman towards the tree line, faster than I’ve ever ran before, screaming incoherently. My mind’s a blur, and all I’m thinking is It can’t be him it can’t be him it can’t be him but at the same time I’m shouting at my legs to run faster, faster, to catch up to Cam to just make sure and so I could see him one more time so I wouldn’t forget him—

My foot catches on a root and suddenly I’m no longer running but flying through the air and I crash to the ground, skidding to a stop. I sit up and brush myself off, scanning the area frantically for any sights of Cam.

But he’s gone.

And I’m alone.

I crumble to the ground and sink my face into the earth, letting out a sound that’s half way between a groan and a scream.

“I’m so sorry,” I whimper into the earth. “Please come back.”

But he’s not coming back, not now, not ever again, and so I sink farther and farther into the ground, waiting for the day that the mosses and grasses grow over me and swallow me whole.

But, of course, that doesn’t happen.

There’s a tap on my shoulder.

“Adam?” a voice says softly. It’s a million miles away. Or maybe I’m a million miles away, but either way, I somehow manage to slowly lift my head up from the ground. Jude’s standing beside me illuminated by his flashlight. His eyes are hollow and glassy, and his face is filled with concern.

“He’s gone,” is all I can manage to mutter.

“I know,” is all he responds as he reaches down and hoists me up from the ground. But somehow, it’s comforting. If Jude saw Cam too, then maybe he’s still out there. Maybe he’s not completely gone.

Jude carefully guides me back to the campsite, and by the time we get back to the clearing my legs have stopped shaking. That is, until I see Tanner standing aloofly by his tent. Before Jude can stop me, I’m hurling myself at Tanner, shoving him hard in the chest.

“Where the fuck were you?”

“I—” he starts, but I cut him off sharply.

“No! I don’t care if you were taking a fucking piss! This is your fault! You never show up for anything!”

“Is that what this is about?” he shouts, enraged. He shoves me backwards, harder. “Do not blame me for this. It is not my fault that Cam’s dead.”

“You didn’t fucking show up when you were supposed to!” I scream, tears swelling in my eyes and blurring my vision.

“What were you doing, then?” he counters. “Working on some stupid painting and ignoring his texts. How is that any better? And you!” He turns and faces Jude, who takes an apprehensive step back. “Care to explain what you were doing?”

“Shut up!” I shout, because I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think about the night we all destroyed our lives. The night when Cam called us all, frantic, sobbing, scared. The night when he finally, finally tried to reach out but no one responded. The night when Tanner didn’t pick Cam from from tech crew because Cam’s parents were out of town, even though he promised, or when I was too preoccupied working on my art project to pick up the phone because couldn’t I just focus on me for once? Or when Jude couldn’t answer because he was too busy making out with Cam’s girlfriend.

The night he never went home and instead ran into the forest—to the lake—looking for something to hold onto.

They say he slipped. Hit his head. And then he drowned. And all of us could have stopped it.

I remember looking at the texts and dismissing them so easily.

Hey, the first one read. Tanner isn’t here yet.

Tech crew sucked. Like big time.

U busy?

Yes I am, actually, I had thought. I was selfish. In that moment, I had betrayed our ten-year long friendship. I had tossed my phone to the side. I didn’t see the rest of the texts until the next morning.

Pls.

Can we talk or somethin?

?

Adam?

The last text had ripped out my insides. He was begging, pleading for me to answer in his last act of desperation, and I had ignored every text. And so had every one of us.

“Can we just go home?” I say finally, collapsing down onto the ground.

“It’s probably best to wait until morning,” Jude suggests, nodding to the beer cans.

I look back down at the time. 9:02. What a long night it’s going to be.

Morning comes after a tantalizingly long wait and we pack up quickly and silently. Jude tosses the two leftover bud lites into his bag and settles for a coke as he hops into the passenger seat of Tanner’s Cutlas. I take to the back, shoved tightly in between all of our camping gear. The car is silent the whole ride home.

I make sure to smile to mom when I get back exclaim that everything went great and tell her the bruise on my forehead and the scratches on my arms are from typical teenage roughhousing, not from running derangedly after my dead best friend.

I make my way slowly up to my room and try to preoccupy myself by packing my backpack for school tomorrow. No one else is going to be thinking about Cam. Everyone else has moved on and is looking forward to bigger and better things. And yet I look around my room and all I see is Cam. The dozens of paintings and ancient easels caked with dry paint stacked up in the corner room are a constant reminder of the night I killed my best friend, but I haven’t had the courage to throw them out yet. I never wanted to touch a paintbrush after that night. I still don’t.  

I turn my back to the corner of abandoned art and shove my computer and notebooks into my backpack, more angrily than I intend to. Maybe he’s still out there, maybe he’s still waiting. That’s it: he’s probably waiting by the lake, waiting for all of us to return, and I realize that I have to go back,  I have to see him again, just one last time.

Maybe then the thoughts will stop.

I’m standing by my locker after school the next day when Jude walks up to me.

“What’s the rush? Your text seemed kinda urgent.”

“We gotta go back,” is all I say. I haven’t been able to concentrate all day. It’s just a constant stream of We gotta go back we gotta go back we gotta go back rushing through my head and I can feel the bubble of anxiety inside of my stomach about to explode.

“What do you mean?” Jude asks.

“To the forest,” I say impatiently. My heart is starting to pick up and I feel my hands starting to get clammy. “We have to go back. I’m freaking out, Jude, and I can’t take it anymore.”

“Look,” Jude says slowly, “I get what you’re saying, but I don’t think this is the best way to go about it. I think it’s best—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” I hiss, cutting him off before he can get any further. I know what he’s going to say and I don’t want anything to do with it. “He was my best friend.  And I can’t believe I just—just ignored him so easily. I didn’t want anything to do with him that night and I was so selfish and I’ve never been so sorry for something in my life. He was ripped away and he’s never coming back and there’s nothing I can do about it. It just hurts so fucking much.“

“You weren’t the only one who lost a friend that day, you know. He was my friend too, and Tanner’s. And I miss him just as badly as you do. Death is a part of life and we have to move on.” I shoot him a look that could cut glass, but Jude takes another breath.

“Why don’t you try talking to Dr. Clark again? Maybe we all could use it.”

I shake my head quickly. “I don’t need that psychoanalysis bullshit again.”

Jude runs his fingers through his hair, visibly annoyed.

“Fine. I’ll go with you. But this isn’t going to get better unless you help yourself first.”

“How can you be so fine about this? We just saw our dead friend the other night.”

Jude shifts his feet awkwardly. “Look, Adam. We were all a bit buzzed. Maybe…you know…maybe nothing really happened.”

“You sound like your mom talking,” I grumble.

His silence is all the response I need.

“You told her what happened?” I mutter through gritted teeth, getting more frustrated by the second.

“Well…yeah. I mean, I was visibly upset when I came home, and she questioned, and—you know how my mom is—it kinda just spilled out.”

I exhale sharply and slouch against my locker.

“Forget it. Forget I ever asked. I’m going on my own.”

“Adam, wait,” Jude starts, but I’ve already swung my backpack onto my shoulder and I’m darting through the crowd before he can say another word.

I throw my bag into the passenger seat of my car and rev the engine, feeling my hands and fingers throb as I grip the steering wheel. It’s a ten minute drive to the forest from school, but it seems as if I get there in two. My mind’s a whirl and I feel the pull of the trees as soon as I step out of my car. They’re calling me, beckoning me forward. No, Cam’s calling me.

Cam, is all I can think. Just let him be there. The trees leer over me, still unfamiliar, but I rush in anyway, letting my feet guide me to the lake.

There’s nothing but cold, damp foliage when I make it to the edge of the water. It laps at my shoes, soaking my feet instantly. I take a step back, glancing desperately to the left and right, looking for any sign of Cam.

But of course he doesn’t show, and I’m left standing by the edge of the water with a hollow pit in my stomach.

I don’t know what I was expecting.

Jude was right, about everything, and I just didn’t want to listen.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I kick a wad of mud as hard as I can, sending it sailing into the lake.

“What the hell do you want?” I screech, my voice raw. I’m  slowly going insane, slowly drowning in my thoughts, slowly losing who I was. I take a defeated step back and crumple to the ground, letting myself sink into the mud.

I bring my legs up to my chest and let my chin rest gently on my knees. Picking up a stick, I absentmindedly draw in the dirt while I watch the water in the lake lightly ebb and flow, ebb and flow. I think of everything I said to Cam, and everything I never said. My thoughts start to rattle and shake, but this time I let them.

Why don’t you paint anymore?

You know why, Cam.

Enlighten me.

I don’t want to say it. Don’t want to think it.

I’m waiting.

I take a breath. Because you made painting easy. You made everything easy. It was always us together. CamandAdam. And now I don’t know what to do and I don’t want to forget you but every time I pick up a paintbrush my mind goes back to that night and it makes me want to throw up every time I think about what I did.

You were going to be an painter, Adam. What about that? Adam, painter extraordinaire. Don’t give that up because of me.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper, aloud.

It’s not going to make me disappear.

No no no, I think. Please don’t make me do this.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the thoughts, but they keep coming. And they’ll keep coming. They’ll never end unless—

I stop and grit my teeth.

Fine. You win this one, Cam.

I stand up, and despite the wave of dizziness that courses through by body, I start running, and it feels like finally, finally, I’m running towards something.

A half hour later, I stand at the tree line once more, carrying a canvas bag. The trees loom over me, and for a moment, I almost turn back. But I take a deep breath and, instead, I step forward.

I know this place like the back of my hand, I remind myself. The trees have sheltered me since I was little, and they will continue to do so.

With every step, I feel the trees becoming more alive, humming with energy. It doesn’t quite feel like a mystery anymore.

I feel the objects in the bag jostle around every time I take a step, reminding me why I’m here. I had rushed home to grab them, startling both of my parents as I busted through the front door and up the steps to my bedroom. My paint supplies were still piled up in the corner of the room where they had been for the last year, untouched, unmoving, unwanted. I walked over slowly to the pile, hesitant at first, my fingers twitching with anticipation. My chest ached as I crouched down and picked up a tube of red paint. I felt a familiar memory slip into the back of my mind, one of childhood games of tag with Cam during sunset, and my lips twitched into a nostalgic smile. I dug through the rest of the pile and pulled out the tube of yellow, and then of orange. Red, yellow, orange. All the warm colors. Cam’s favorite. I held onto them for a split second longer, allowing the memories to bubble, and then I shoved the paint into my canvas bag.

I’m at the lake now, and everything’s calm. The water’s like glass, slick and unmoving, waiting patiently for me. I close my eyes and tilt my head towards the sky, allowing the fear to wash over me, but then allowing it to subside. Are you there, Cam? I ask, but I know I’m just trying to stall the inevitable, and I force my feet to step forwards, despite the fact that they’re trying to tug me back, despite the fact that every fiber of my being is screaming at me to run away again. But I won’t do it. I’m tired of running.

I crouch down by the water and pull out the tubes of paint, fiddling with them in my hands. These were his. They were always his. Every time I painted and used these colors, I was thinking of him. They were never mine, and they never will be. I gently untwist the caps, one by one.

“Don’t worry, Cam,” I say aloud, “I think I’m gonna be okay.”

With one last exhale, I squeeze the tubes of paints together, holding my breath as they form into vibrant stream of sunset, and for a moment I’m stuck in time, watching contently as all the warm colors sink slowly away from sight.

[chilling-seavey]

I need more scenes of Lucy aka my most fave music prodigy (next to Daniel of course

Daniel’s lil multi-talented musical prodigy 🥺🥺

Four

It wasn’t unusual for music to be played through the apartment at odd times of the day, even late at night. So when four-year-old Lucy woke up to the sound of the piano in the middle of the night, she eagerly jumped out of bed and opened her bedroom door and scurried down the hallway to the living room. Daniel was sat at the grand piano by the windows in his pyjamas, a single lamp on just behind him casting a warm glow over his space, his open notebook on the top of the piano and a pen balanced between his lips as he played a few notes slowly.

Lucy tiptoed around the corner into the room and he glanced up at her movement.

“Hey, princess. What are you doing up?” Daniel shuffled over to give her room to climb up on the bench beside him.

“Can I play too?” she asked softly.

“For a little bit. Then it’s back to bed, okay?”

Lucy bit back her grin and nodded up at him. She sat up straighter to mirror him and set her little hands on the keys in nearly perfect form.

“Copy me, okay?” Daniel played a little pattern of three notes and sat back to let her try, her tongue poking out between her lips as she concentrated, and when she finished, she smiled up at him. “Look at you, my little piano prodigy.”

“Again!” Lucy said.

The messy notes of the piano woke Florence from her deep sleep. The empty space in the bed next to her dragged her to her feet and down the hallway after the music. She found Daniel sat at the piano in a t-shirt and his pyjama pants, Lucy sitting up straight next to him on the bench with her blonde hair a mess on her head and a toothy grin on her face as she played along with him.

“Daniel James Seavey, it’s 2:30 in the morning why do you have our four-year-old out of bed?” Florence sighed from the doorway, crossing her arms over her chest tiredly.

“She came and found me herself.” Daniel mumbled, looking down at the little girl beside him.

“And you didn’t put her back in bed because?”

“Because we makin’ music, Mommy!” Lucy giggled, pressing her tiny hands on the keys. Daniel absolutely beamed at his daughter. “Daddy said okay.”

“Lucy Elizabeth, you get back into bed, little miss. I will deal with your father later.” Florence said sternly but gently.

The four-year-old slid off the piano bench and scurried down the hallway, her feet pit-pattering on the hardwood. Florence gave Daniel a little glare before following after their youngest. Lucy was laid down in bed facing the door and smiled shyly when her mother walked in.

“Sorry, Mommy.” she whispered.

“You need to stay asleep once we out you to bed, missy.” Florence sat on her bedside and tucked the sheets higher around her.

“Daddy isn’t asleep. I woke up to music and wanted to play too.”

“Well Daddy should be asleep himself and not being noisy and waking you girls up and I’m going to talk to him about that.”

“Is he in trouble?”

“No.” Florence chuckled, brushing her daughter’s hair back from her face and pressed a kiss to her head. “Sleep well.”

However, the four-year-old didn’t need to know that Daniel was definitely in trouble. Florence shut their bedroom door behind her quietly and gave him a stern glare from across the room. Daniel bit his lip nervously and looked to his lap as he sat up in bed.

“I don’t know where to start with you, Daniel James.” Florence tisked.

“I had a tune in my head and I needed to get it out.” Daniel shrugged.

“So make a voice memo or use your laptop. Don’t go making a concert on the grand piano and luring our children out of bed at 2:30 in the morning. This is the fourth time this month and it’s getting ridiculous. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“I know...I just...” Daniel sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Lucy’s half asleep during the day because she doesn’t sleep through the night because she’s waiting for her midnight music lessons all the time.” Florence grumbled, tossing back the blankets on her side of the bed and slid in.

“I just can’t say no to her.” Daniel admitted softly. “She’s really good.”

“Well you need to learn to.” Florence said as she turned off her bedside light and got back under the sheets.

“She’s a genius, Flora, I swear.” Daniel whispered through the dark.

~~

Seven

“Ring finger on small E string.”

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can. Just bend it more.”

“Ow, Daddy, stop! You’re gonna break my finger!” Lucy shrieked, snatching her hand away.

“Lucy, it’s one note. Just a G.” Daniel sighed.

“My hand isn’t big enough!”

“So stretch it out a bit! You’ll get there!”

“It’s too hard. I don’t wanna do this anymore.” Lucy thrust her guitar at him and got up from the couch to trudge tiredly to the kitchen.

Daniel turned to look after her, “Luce, you learned and played the entirety of ‘Hot Cross Buns’ in an hour flat. I think you can manage one tricky note.”

“I just won’t play any songs that have that note in it.”

“That’s not easy to avoid.”

“Whatever.” Lucy sat back down with her glass of lemonade.

“You just gotta practice.” Daniel took her glass from her in exchange for the guitar.

“My fingers are aching, Daddy.” Lucy whined, draping her guitar across her lap.

“Build that stamina, princess. Give me ‘Hot Cross Buns’ again.”

~~

Ten

Daniel and Lucy’s relationship regarding music flipped between yelling at each other and sickening sweet bonding moments often. Lucy loved it but she loved giving up when things got too hard and it drove Daniel crazy but him pushing her drove her crazy. Regardless, she always got where she wanted, especially when she was in her school’s Christmas concert at age ten for a whole performance all by herself. Her parents and sisters sat in the crowd excitedly as she took her seat on the stage in her gold Christmas dress and she set her cello against the ground by her feet. Lucy brushed her blonde hair over her far shoulder to give herself some room to play and let her fingers find the first note before resting the bow against the strings.

Soon, the slow rolling sound of the cello filled the elementary school gymnasium, forming the notes of ‘Silent Night’ gracefully. Her eyes were closed as she let the music lead her and kept her posture as straight as she could. Daniel was beaming at her from the crowd.

It was a short song so she finished quickly and the crowd erupted in applause, her family standing up and cheering the loudest as she took her curtsy and walked off the stage. She joined them in the audience and was quickly welcomed into hugs and praise by her family.

Daniel had a small bouquet of flowers at the ready for her for congratulations and she took it with a smile as he bent down to hug her tightly.

“So proud of you.” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her head.

“Thank you.” Lucy breathed against his chest, looking up to shoot him a smile, a small gap where she had lost a tooth grinning up at him.

~~

Fourteen

“Good afternoon!” “I adore your top!” “My day was just fine, thank you!” “Oh my gosh, your new haircut is stunning!” “Daddy, I’m here!”

Lucy didn’t even need to say it, Daniel could hear her from the moment she walked out of the elevator but he looked up from his spot at the sound board and smiled at his daughter in the doorway. She dropped her backpack on the couch and leaned down to kiss his cheek.

“Let’s get to work!”

They had been getting together at the studio after school to work on singing and producing which later turned into an idea for a Christmas gift for Daniel’s parents. They were re-recording all the instrumental tracks and then the vocals of one of the first songs Daniel covered as a teenager, the same cover that got him accepted into university. His parents adored the cover he worked so hard on at only sixteen, understanding that all his time cooped up in his room remaking the song eventually paid off and they were so proud of him for it.

So Daniel had the copy of his cover of Breakaway on his laptop and he and Lucy had spent weeks re-recording the guitar tracks, piano tracks, backing vocals, and percussion, and it was finally time for the main vocals. They got Lucy set up in the recording studio with a headset and a mic and a glass of water beside her and Daniel got back on the other side of the wall with the soundboard and his laptop.

“Ok, let’s do one run through for a first draft.” Daniel spoke into the mic and she gave him a thumbs up as the music started playing through her headphones. They spent the rest of the afternoon on it, finally finishing with perfecting the high note at the last chorus.

They really wanted to get it perfect and make it the most impressive they could.

“Higher.” Daniel spoke through the mic.

“Higher? Oh my gosh.” Lucy cleared her throat and waved her finger in a circle to get him to replay the last little bit. “I gotta keep moving on, moving on. Fly away!”

“Higher.” Daniel cut her off.

“Dad.”

“You’re not putting your heart into it.”

“Yes, I am!”

“Fly away.” Daniel sang as an example, holding the last syllable as he brought his voice higher at the end. He repeated that last note for her, gesturing for her to copy.

Lucy sighed but humoured him, meeting his pitch with ease.

“Good. Again.” Daniel restarted the instrumental clip.

“I gotta keep moving on, moving on. Fly away!”

“Lucy.” Daniel groaned.

“You’re being too picky. That was good.”

“Good. Not amazing.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“You gotta convince me this is the best song you’ve ever sang and you wouldn’t want to be singing anything else. Gotta feel it here.” Daniel patted his chest. He fiddled with the switched on the board in front of him. “Again.”

“Baby, I don’t know where they’ll take me but, I gotta keep moving on, moving on. Fly away!” Lucy scrunched her eyes shut and angled herself slightly away from the mic as she finally hit that note.

Daniel could only grin at her through the window as he kept her going right into the chorus.

“I’ll spread my wings and I’ll learn how to fly. Do what it takes ‘till I touch the sky. Take a risk, take a chance, make a change, and breakaway….Breakaway.”

Daniel switched off the recording and literally jumped up, “That was perfect! See? I knew you had it in you!”

“Can we listen to it now? I’m so tired.” Lucy chuckled, walking out of the recording studio to the mixing area and she collapsed back onto the couch with her water bottle.

“Yes! Okay, okay…give me one second.” Daniel typed away on his laptop and moved around a few things before moving to sit beside her on the couch. “We still have lots of adjustments for producing but this is our first final draft.”

He couldn’t press play before his phone was ringing from the table in front of them. They both looked down to see Florence’s number on the screen, probably calling to ask where the heck they were since it was already pushing 7:00 and they said they would be home at 5. Daniel and Lucy looked each other.

“You didn’t see anything.” Daniel said.

“Nope. Didn’t hear the phone at all.” Lucy agreed and they turned back to the laptop.