#of the many days and nights i spent out there at camp with many friends who i have since lost contact with

[sea-critter]

scenes from today’s walk

[call-sign-shark]

Of Bending and Breaking || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Always being the one who cares for others comes with a price: you break down, but the most unexpected person is here for you: Tommy, the man you were forced to marry.

Words: 2,3k

TW: Hurt/Comfort, very tiny mention of past sexual assault, no proofreading 'cause it comes from clearing my drafts.

Notes: Aunt Isabella's is a tribute to my own aunt Isabelle who, unfortunately, died because of cancer a few years ago.

It all started with Polly shaking Tommy like a tree, her thin hands firmly grabbing his nephew’s broad shoulders: “You can’t keep sabotaging yourself like this, Tom.” These were the words that left her quivering lips as she dragged his staggering frame to the bathroom and pushed his face into the bathtub right under the tap. When the freezing water splashed all over his neck, Tommy opened his blank eyes wide and inhaled sharply, as if he had suddenly come back to life. Since Grace’s awful death, the gangster was the shadow of his former self. When he wasn’t waging a senseless war with Father Hughes and the Italian, or when he wasn’t keeping his buzzing mind busy with work, Tommy usually numbed himself with a deadly combination of whisky and opium until his deep-seated pain became bearable. It was the night he almost overdosed that Polly decided to take charge of his nephew and found him a new wife, in the hope of soothing his nephew’s mind and finding a mother figure for poor little Charlie. The idea had obviously sent Tommy in a fit of anger but Polly Gray couldn’t care less.

Regarding your own situation, it was not the opium nor the loss of a dear lover that had led you to Birmingham’s most dangerous man but rather the bump in your belly. Aunt Isabella had understood what you were suffering from the moment you had stormed out of the vardo to throw up your breakfast in the nearest bush. The tall and lean woman, whose light brown and curly mane danced in the cold autumn wind, had looked at you right in the eyes and raised one of her thin eyebrows. If there was something pleasant with her, it was that words weren’t necessary.

Yet, later she encountered Polly, with whom she had been a great friend since childhood, and explained that a powerful American man had forced his seeds in you during his stay in England. Not willing to go through the traumatic experience of aborting, Isabella only saw one solution to your problem: you needed a husband who could protect you and your future baby from the evil man with his scarred lip. A wedding would be your salvation. At the realization of what Aunt Isabella had planned for you, you tried to run away from the camp in the middle of the night but she knew you too well and soon caught you, her sly hand firmly grabbing your wrist: “Y/N! It’s for your sake! He’s rich, he needs a wife and he is feared! You’ll be safe with him, don’t you understand?” She explained, cupping your face with her long fingers adorned with claws painted in red and far too many rings. “I don’t need a man to protect me! I don’t need anyone. He’s older and he’s a criminal! Who’s going to protect me from him eh? Have you think ‘bout that?” You cried, the soft light of the sunrise turning your tears into liquid gold.

But still, you wedded him and what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life turned out to be a dull event during which you dissociated the whole time. The only memories you had in mind were two piercing and frightening turquoise eyes staring right at your soul and soft whiskey-tasting lips stealing a quick peck from your cherry lips. A kiss devoid of any form of affection. And then, the groom left.

From what Aunt Isabella told you, your husband had spent most of the celebrations with his brothers, drinking and taking bets outside of Arrow House. Months had passed and still, you felt estranged to this place and its staff. The only moments your heart lightened were when Aunt Isabella visited you, or when Charlie spent time with you, otherwise you remained emotionally closed, trapped in your own mind. Overall you could not complain: You had a house far too big for you with plenty of workers willing to exhaust every one of your wishes. Charlie was a sweet boy, who loved you with all his heart even if you were well aware that you’ll never replace his mother. As for the Shelby clan, they were cordial with you without being really friendly either. And there was Tommy…

Cold and distant Tommy, who you only saw late at night when he discretely slipped under the bedsheet and turned his back to you without uttering a single word. Busy Tommy, whose replies remained concise and spoken with a quiet husky voice each time you asked him something — at least he talked to you a little bit. Trapped in a loveless marriage, that was what you were: Tommy was more a stranger, a mere gust of wind in your life, than the love of your life.

Still, the gangster stayed true to his words and he provided for everything, never refusing to give you money when you asked, and protecting you from the man who had taken your innocence. He even gifted you a wonderful stallion because he knew how much you missed riding. In exchange for his protection and riches, all you had to do was take care of Charlie and do your best to be there for your husband when his darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

You found out about the nightmares shortly after your wedding and quickly decided to do something about it. When he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat after tasting the tunnels’ dirt and Grace’s crimson blood in his troubled sleep, you always cradle him, your fingers losing themselves in his wet dark hair to pet his head gently. At first, you feared his reaction, expecting the infamous Tommy Shelby to push you and not-so-kindly ask you to keep your distance but, to your greatest surprise, he never did. Instead, he would bury his face in your cleavage, panting and trembling, and let you reassure him. Just like he let you bring dinner to him each time he drowned himself in paperwork and forgot to eat. He never commented on your cooking skills though, even if he always handed back empty plates.

The blood on his skin? You cleaned it.

The wounds of his flesh? You never failed to patched them up.

The hole in his heart? You tried to seal it off with caresses, soft kisses, and shoulder massages. Maybe one day he would slowly turn his iciness into affection. Little did you know that he needed it. And by it he needed you. Just like the whole family. How many times did you walk the streets of Birmingham at night, seeking for Arthur and then bringing him home to take care of a wasted and high him? Far too many to keep track. Similarly, you had spent countless evenings helping Ada when she felt overwhelmed, either nursing Karl or cleaning her house when, just like her brother, she overworked herself. And finally, Polly could never thank you enough for everything you did to soothe her mind after the gallows, still haunted by the bite of the hanging rope on her throat.

“Thanks Poppy.” Arthur muttered, the gravel in his voice coated with shame now that you were down clearing and disinfecting his split knuckles. The oldest brother had started to affectionately call you so for the sole reason that, according to him, you must probably grow better when blood was considering how much you had seen when patching the Shelby siblings. “Sorry for errr… For the mess.” He went on, his steel blue eyes fleeing yours.

“That’s okay.” You replied in Romani, “You, sweet idiot.” Endeared by how surprisingly soft Arthur’s harsh complexions could turn, you couldn’t help but gently put your hand on one of his cheeks. And during this tender display of affection, Arthur was convinced he had caught sight of a smile — a scarce event barely happening on your beautiful but resigned face. Comforted by the warmth of your palm, he leaned into your touch and looked at you through dark lashes, his lids half-closed.

“Tommy’s one lucky bastard to have ya for himself, eh."

"Let's both flee together then." You teased, the familiar tone of Romani language rendered even more melodious by your siren-like voice.

"Don't tempt me, little one." Arthur replied, softer than intended and probably only half-joking.

The oldest Shelby brother had barely closed the door when your smile disappeared and tears flooded your eyes. Admittedly, spending months of repressing your own anguish didn’t do any good to you despite thinking that focusing on others would have helped. Quite the contrary, all those negative emotions you had left on the back burner turned into a silent and deadly parasite that was eating you up. Dragging your tired frame to the cold and empty marital bedroom, you curled up in a ball in a corner of the room, your bruised knees pressed against your chest, “Positive. You gotta stay positive and push forwards y’see Y/N? Do the right things for the family…” You whispered to yourself as your breath started to quicken for the ball of sorrow in your throat was growing more and more. Yes, you had to smile and say that all was just fine because you knew you were lucky to be here and that you hadn’t any real reason to complain now according to the rest of the world. And yet, the truth was you were tired. So tired and overwhelmed by everything around you. With your wild soul trapped here in the mighty walls of Arrow House, you could not help but drown in an excruciating feeling of worthlessness.

You were lost in a world too difficult for you to understand. Lost and unprepared for a life that asked for too much. When you were living in the vardo with Aunt Isabella life seemed so much easier despite the lack of money and, sometimes, food. Prior to your wedding, she used to tell you that everything would become clear once you’d be a wife and a mother. You’d be an adult adult, you see? But she lied. They all lied. Even with a husband and kids, you still felt like a scared and confused child, who wanted to hide under the blanket of her warm bed and never face the world ever again. These concerns of yours? You never shared because you wanted the Shelby to keep seeing you as a reassuring presence— moreover, God knew how much their broken hearts needed your silent care.

Bringing your trembling fingers to your mouth, you muffled a first sob, convinced it would be enough to keep you from crying. What you didn’t expect was to burst into tears, uncontrollably weeping. After all this time forcing yourself to be strong, your mind had enough. As your heart-wrenching cries echoed in the room they muffled Tommy’s footsteps that were coming closer and closer. When the door flung open, you did not even move, lost in a spiral of pain and psychological exhaustion.

“Y/N?!” Tommy called you, his usual coldness swept away by a surge of panic. He closed the distance between you and him with hastened steps, and put one of his knees on the floor to be at your level, “What’s wrong, ay?” His husky voice asked, worries thickening his Brummie accent even more. You hiccuped and raised your flooded eyes towards him, parting your lips to answer. Yet, as soon as your gaze met his turquoise iris you started weeping again, louder this time. Words were at a loss by dint of never having the chance to express what you felt throughout your life. “Bloody Hell, Y/N! Speak!” Tommy hissed, his heart now drumming in his chest at the sight of his young and always-so-strong wife crumbling in bits in front of him. Never in his life, he had felt so powerless, not even in the tunnels… And, God, he hated it.

“N-nothing. I don’t… I don’t even know it’s just that— I’m so fucking tired, and lost, and confused, and afraid!” You spoke with a very fast pace, spitting years and years of repressed emotions flowing from you all the while feeling deeply ashamed of your mental breakdown. When you were done venting, you simply turned your head and waved off the topic, tears still rolling down your reddened cheeks “Anyway! You’ve got — more important things to do.”

“Stop it, Y/N,” He scolded, low voice rumbling in his chest. His strong and calloused hands, damaged by the war and hard work, cupped your face with a softness you didn’t know he possessed. For the first time in your life, his grip felt utterly reassuring as if you knew these scarred palms were not going to let you fall apart. Never. “You’re what’s important right now.” With that being said, Tommy leaned his forehead against yours and his enchanting eyes soon met yours to force you to focus on nothing else but the vast blue oceans which composed them. “I want you to calm down.”

“I can’t, I can’t—“ You tried to speak but you couldn’t, struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of your panic attack. Your mouth gaped, looking for the oxygen it couldn’t find.

“Oi!” Tommy said louder. So loud that his voice managed to overcome the cacophony of your beating heart and the buzzing sound of your anxiety that filled your head, “I want you to breathe with me, Y/N. Alright? You can do that for me, ay?” He asked, his eyebrows slightly frowned and charming crowfeet appearing at the corner of his eyes — how odd it was to see Tommy’s face veiled with something else than unsettling placidity. Caught off guard by the sudden realization of how close he was, you quieted down a little bit and soon followed the pattern of his breathing.

One long inhale through the nose, one longer exhale through the mouth, and a short pose.

Do it again.

Your shaky hands slowly grabbed his wrists in a desperate attempt to anchor you to reality. This, as well as the focus you had on his mesmerizing complexions.

His long dark lashes — you inhaled slowly.

His cat-like turquoise iris — you exhaled.

His salient cheekbones — You stopped breathing for a very short while.

The myriad of freckles — “Breathe with me, Y/N.”

The soft, hoarse lilt guided you through the dark and thick fog of your own brain, just like a lighthouse. Coming back to clearer waters, your body finally relaxed and fell almost limp in his arms. And once again he caught you, keeping you all safe against his chest. Tommy’s voice, low and steady, resonated one last time in the bedroom with a reassuring warmth as he uttered the simple yet powerful phrase, "I'm here." Each word carefully enunciated, carrying a quiet strength that soothed and reassured, like a comforting anchor in a stormy sea.

Keep your writers motivated: Reblog and/or comment if you liked it, you filthy animal! o/ English is not my first language btw.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @red-riding-wood

[sayruq]

Abdul Majeed, struggling to breatheAbdul Majeed al-Sabakhi, 20, lives on an oxygen respirator in the hospital. Speaking is a struggle for the youth who has had cystic fibrosis since childhood. In the first month of Israel’s war on Gaza, the Israeli army bombed the house next door to the al-Sabakhis’ home in the Nuseirat refugee camp in central Gaza. The impact destroyed their home as well. “That day, I was pulled out of under the rubble, nearly suffocated by the toxic smoke and dust,” he recalls. Abdul Majeed spent about a month in intensive care on ventilators, further damaging his lungs to the point where he is now dependent on them. “I lived almost normally before the war. I walked, moved around and attended university without obstacles,” Abdul Majeed says. “But after the war … I became unable to do anything.” Displaced with his parents, four brothers and two sisters to Rafah and then Deir el-Balah, he suffered in the tent and eventually had to be taken to hospital to stay on oxygen. Abdul Majeed was supposed to travel, accompanied by his 21-year-old brother Osama, for urgent lung surgery, but then came news of the Rafah crossing being closed. “Closing the crossing is a death sentence for me and many patients like me,” Abdul Majeed says, gasping for breath as the effort of speaking shakes his frail body. “Every day I am delayed, my chance of survival decreases. “I’ve lost so much weight because my weak lungs mean I can’t even eat.” Osama stays with Abdul Majeed in the hospital, day and night. “Before the war, we used to go out together, stay up late with friends, and have fun. Despite his illness, his condition was stable,” Osama says. “Abdel Majeed’s not just my brother; he’s my companion and friend.”

[vnti-vntiety-recs]

WILD HEARTS (M)

★ PAIRING: Haechan x Reader (ft. Mark)

☆ WORD COUNT: 12.7k

★ GENRE(S): smut, hate to lovers

☆ Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had a crush on Mark. Over the summer, you have the opportunity to get closer to him but there is one problem. For as long as you could remember him, Haechan always got in the way.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: Unprotected sex, rated 18+, mature, MDNI

☆★ NOTES: I had to do this before the summer ended. Would you believe me if I said this was supposed to be nothing but fluff? I tried so hard not to write hate to love but my finger slipped. Next time, I promise. Enjoy.

Since fifth grade, you have had a crush on Mark Lee. In the seventh grade, you spoke your first words to him, and by the twelfth grade, you had at least two or three exchanges. This year you two are attending the same college. You would not let your good fortune be for naught because this year, Mark Lee would be yours.

“Five days out in the woods?” Your roommate quirks a brow at you. “You hate bugs, you’re a shut-in, and you’re not even part of that club.”

“Not yet. I’m working on that, and I’m not a shut-in! I just don’t fit in,” you explain with a roll of your eyes.

You had a hard time making friends back in grade school, graduating with only having made a handful. You were the smart kid, the nerd, and the one people would pick on when they were bored. You had a hard time fitting in, but since you started college, things have mellowed out a lot. College kids didn’t care how you looked, how you dressed, or who you were; they had too many deadlines to meet and too much classwork to juggle to really care about those things. You were finally able to come out of your shell a little, and with your newfound confidence, you are certain you could bag the man of your dreams.

Mark Lee was perfect—he was smart, athletic, funny, and most of all, kind. He was the only one to look at you with any ounce of kindness back in grade school. This year, you had created a plan to finally get him to notice you. Mark is the head of the campus activities board, and this year the club is going on a camping trip. You saw a flyer hanging up outside the student center; it stated that the trip would be five days and four nights at some old camping grounds by a lake. This was the perfect chance to get close to Mark; the only problem was that you weren’t a member of the club yet, and the deadline was fast approaching.

“Whatever, you’re still too scared to talk to him,” your friend shrugs while flipping through her textbook.

“Yeri, you’re not helping,” you whine before flopping onto your bed in defeat. She was right; you hadn’t talked to Mark in who knows how long.

“I’m sorry. I believe in you,” she says unconvincingly.

“I’ll prove it! By the end of this trip, Mark Lee will be mine!” You sit up with newfound conviction.

Your roommate smiles in amusement. “Good luck.”

You woke up early the next morning, needing ample time to get ready and hype yourself up. You got a full eight hours of sleep last night, and you were going to need every ounce of energy if you were going to talk to Mark today. You even had time to make a quick breakfast. As you checked the time one last time before leaving, you gasped. You had spent so much time getting ready—taking a shower, doing your makeup, and eating—but you were still too early. Maybe you overestimated the time it would take you to get ready. You still had an entire hour until your first class.

“What are you doing?” a groggy Yeri asks, rubbing her eyes as she opens the fridge.

“I woke up too early,” you sigh.

“It’s because you’re too anxious. Relax—it will work out. It’s not like you’re asking him to marry you.”

"Not yet," you think to yourself.

You needed to go for a walk; Some fresh air would help clear your mind and calm your nerves. There's a trail near your dorm, so you decide that's where you’ll go. The truth is, you don’t have a clear plan beyond the trip itself. You know the first step is to go, but after that, you’re unsure. You figured there would be plenty of camp activities and various team-building exercises. Maybe a deeper bond could be formed through those? You heard there was archery planned; perhaps you could shoot an arrow right through his heart.

“Hey, you okay?” Yeri calls after you, noticing your distracted expression as you step outside.

“Yeah, I’m just trying to figure out how to make the most of this trip,” you reply with a nervous laugh.

“Well, don’t overthink it. Just be yourself and see where things go. You’ve got this.”

You take a deep breath, nodding to yourself as you set off toward the trail. Each step helps you steady your nerves, your mind buzzing with the excitement of what’s to come. This is just the start of your plan to finally get close to Mark Lee, and you’re determined to make every moment count.

You bite your lip in thought, realizing that before you can do anything, you first need to overcome a major hurdle: talking to him without feeling like your throat is closing up. Mark makes you more nervous than you already are. Just looking at him makes your heart race, like it's about to jump out of your chest. Whenever you've tried to speak with him before, you could barely get a word out without stuttering. There must be a way to make this easier. Maybe you could ask one of the other club members to help you sign up? No, you need to face this yourself; otherwise, you’ll never gather the courage to ask him out.

The trail wound through the entire campus, you took the long way to think and you eventually ended up heading toward your first class. This was where you’d cross paths with Mark every morning since he had class in the same building as you. Spotting him on his way to class, you decided it was time to rip off the bandage and get the ball rolling. The quad between the buildings was bustling, and you had to navigate through a crowd to reach him. Just as you were inches away from tapping his shoulder, someone roughly pushed you aside. You stumble into another student, quickly apologize, and look around for the person who shoved you.

It was him—Haechan.

You burn holes into the back of his head. Your relationship with Haechan isn’t really a relationship at all; it’s one-sided animosity. You despise him for the simple crime of always being in the wrong place at the wrong time, which, unfortunately for you, is always next to Mark. As Mark's best friend, Haechan is always glued to his side, and time after time, he’s managed to come between you and Mark.

There was that time in middle school when you sprained your ankle. Mark was supposed to take you to the nurse’s office because he was the teacher’s aide, but Haechan insisted on taking you instead. Then there was the school project where you were paired with Mark, but because Haechan joined the class, the number of students became uneven, and he was added to your group. When Mark got sick, you ended up meeting with Haechan every Sunday to finish the project instead.

The worst thing Haechan did, though, was steal your first kiss. It happened at the one and the only party you were ever invited to. Eager to fit in, you joined a game of spin the bottle, convinced it would land on Mark. Your heart sank when, at the last moment, it landed on Haechan instead. So he kissed you. When he pulled away, everyone looked at him with expectant eyes. You could see it on their faces: how did the "weird girl" kiss? The embarrassment was overwhelming.

“Your lips are chapped”

Chapped? Chapped! From that moment on, you were called "Chappy" for the rest of the year. You wanted to murder Lee Haechan. Determined not to let him get in your way this time, you head to your class, planning to catch Mark after.

Finally, after an hour-long lecture, you’re free. You take your time exiting the building, scanning for Mark. As you turn a sharp corner, you run into someone and stumble backward, almost tripping over your own feet. An arm reaches out to steady you.

“Thank—” Oh no, it was happening again. Your throat was closing up, your brain was malfunctioning, and you just wanted the ground to open up and swallow you. Yeri called it the “Leeffect.” It was like, whenever Mark was around, you froze up like a deer in headlights.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt, right?” He asks, bending down to pick up the keys you dropped.

It takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken your keys from his outstretched hand. No! You refuse to let the “leeffect” ruin this. It’s now or never.

“It’s not too late, right?”

“Late for what?”

Be specific, you chide yourself, you’re sinking here.

“The club!” You blurt out too loudly. “Sorry, um, I saw a flyer about your club going camping. It’s not too late to join, is it?” You finish weakly.

“Wait, you want to join the club? You’re exactly what I needed!”

Mark said he needed you, you think dreamily.

“My friend really wanted to go on this trip, but since it’s already kind of last minute, everyone had already buddied up. But if you join, we’ll have enough people to pair off evenly!” Mark explains, his eyes lighting up.

“That’s perfect!”

This was terrible. Mark was supposed to be your partner. You sigh a little in disappointment when he leaves. It could be worse.

“At least you got his number, and hey, now you’re going on the trip!” Yeri tries to cheer you up.

You pop another gummy worm into your mouth, chewing it absentmindedly. It’s movie night at the dorm: Yeri is sprawled across half the couch, while you’re curled up on the other end.

“Yeah, but I still have to go with someone else!”

“Do you know who your buddy is yet?”

“I don’t know yet; I didn’t have time to ask. We just exchanged information. He said he’d text me the details later because he had to get to his next class.”

“Who knows, maybe you’ll be able to switch?” You hope she’s right.

The next morning, you receive his text with all the information. He sends a detailed paragraph containing the location, fees, departure date, activities, and a short itinerary of the stops along the way. There’s also a list of key items you might want to bring. At the end of the message, he includes your buddy’s phone number. You’re set to leave in two days.

Everything was packed, and you were out the door before the sun was even up. You had a long day ahead of you, but you didn’t care because you’d be on the same bus as Mark for five hours! Sure, you had to sit next to your designated partner, but if he chose an aisle seat, you could sit across the aisle from him.

All club members were to meet at the student center and load the buses from there. You arrive and slip inside with your bags and head to the lounge area. Not expecting to be the first one to show up, you text your buddy to let them know you’re waiting.

You stay positive—nothing could ruin your chance to get close to Mark. People start arriving along with their buddies, and everyone slowly pairs up, but you’re still left alone. Mark finally shows up, and as the leader, he gathers everyone to go over the rules and what to expect for the trip. You’re instructed to sit next to your buddy on the bus, stick with them at rest stops, and stay together if you visit a gift shop. You understand the need for caution, especially when traveling far from campus, but you can't help feeling a bit stifled.

It isn’t long before it’s time to load the bus, and your buddy still hasn’t arrived. You wait in line to pack your bags into the additional storage space under the bus, hoping your buddy will show up soon.

“Dude! What took you so long? I thought you weren’t going to make it!” Mark’s voice cuts through the crowd.

You glance over your shoulder and tighten your grip on your bag at the sight.

“Overslept, sorry,” another voice responds.

Lee Haechan was catching his breath as Mark filled him in on the details. You had a suspicion, and despite your best efforts to dismiss it (such as sacrificing a small child the previous evening to ensure it wasn’t true) there was no denying it now. As he strode up next to you, it became an undeniable reality.

Lee Haechan was your designated trip buddy.

“So, you’re my partner? Nice to meet you. I’m Donghyuck, but everyone calls me Haechan,” he says, shrugging his bag over his shoulder as he introduces himself.

You scoff. Of course he forgot you. After making your early school years a nightmare, how could he not? “Y/N,” you reply coldly, facing forward and closing yourself off from any further conversation. This could not be happening to you.

This trip was starting off terribly. After loading up the bus, you and Haechan were assigned seats far at the back, while Mark was seated at the front. Haechan claimed the window seat, leaving you stuck in the aisle seat with no Mark on the other side. You had no one to talk to and nothing to look at. You were bored.

The only upside was that Mark was sitting in an aisle seat at the front, so if you leaned just a bit into the aisle, you could catch glimpses of the back of his head. Unfortunately, hanging your head into the aisle to sneak peeks at Mark for five hours wasn’t exactly cool and mysterious, so that option was out of the question.

Haechan had given up on trying to talk to you after you had ignored him for the third time an hour into the trip. You had practically acted like he wasn’t even there. You weren’t sure how you’d survive the next four hours.

Finally, after about an hour and a half, the bus stops for a bathroom break. Haechan trails behind you, even when you tell him he doesn’t need to. As you both make your way to the restrooms, you manage to say your first words to him in hours.

“Seriously, you don’t have to follow me everywhere. You wanna wait outside the stall too?”

“I’d actually feel safer inside. Someone might snatch me up,” Haechan replies with a grin.

You roll your eyes as you head toward the women’s bathroom. “And I’d just die if that happened,” you joke sarcastically.

When you exit the bathroom, Haechan is at your side again. As you both leave the rest stop, you notice Mark and his partner chatting on a bench outside. With a few more moments to stretch before loading the bus again, you figure it’s as good a time as any to chat with Mark.

Mark looks up and waves. You wave back but realize a second too late that he was actually waving at Haechan. Haechan strolls over, and you follow behind.

Haechan effortlessly joins Mark’s conversation, and you can’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy at how easily he fits in. You don’t mind too much, though; watching from the sidelines gives you a chance to observe Mark up close without being too obvious

“I’m really glad you decided to come on the trip,” Mark says. It takes you a moment to realize that the conversation has shifted to you and Mark is addressing you directly.

You take a deep breath, remembering your practice. “Thank you for letting me join so late,” you say.

“It's no problem and Haechan's great! I think you’re going to love him. Hopefully, we can all hang out after the trip,” Mark encourages.

You can practically feel the stars twinkling in your eyes at the promise. “That sounds great!”

When it’s time to load the bus, you notice that Haechan is a bit quieter than before. It doesn’t bother you much, but the constant staring does.

“Is there something on my face?” you ask.

Haechan hesitates for a moment before finally speaking. “You like him, don’t you?”

You choke on your own spit. “What!?”

“Mark, you look at him with the worst case of puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen,” Haechan states matter-of-factly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is the heat getting to you? Want me to ask if they can turn the AC up?” In a bus cramped full of college kids, it could get stuffy, so maybe he needed some more air because he clearly wasn’t thinking straight.

“I can help you, if you want,” Haechan proposes.

You’re at a loss for words. This had to be a joke, but if it wasn’t, you had to take the chance. “What’s the catch?”

“You have to talk to me. For the rest of the trip, you can’t pretend I don’t exist anymore,” he whispers, turning in his seat to face you. “Promise to give me the time of day, and I’ll help you win Mark’s heart.”

“And what makes you so sure you can do that?”

“No one knows Mark better than me,” he smirks.

And that’s how you made a deal with the devil.

Although Haechan was your assigned buddy, you ended up with an entirely different bunkmate. You had never spoken to her, but you did know her. She was in one of your morning lectures, sitting a few rows in front of you.

“Hey, I’m Yujin. I’ll be your roommate for the next few days,” she introduces herself as you unpack your bags. You had finally arrived at the camp a few hours ago, and after the initial tour of the grounds, you had been split into pairs and assigned to different cabins.

You liked Yujin well enough. You hadn’t come here with the intention of making friends, so whether you hit it off with her or not didn’t really matter to you.

“I’m Y/N,” you reply, too preoccupied with dusting off the covers on the top bunk and checking for any spiders or insects that might have crept into the sheets. You really hated the outdoors.

“Woman of few words, huh? I think we’ll get along just fine,” she says with a genuine smile. Her sincerity makes you pause and look at her for a few seconds. You appreciate that she isn’t completely put off by your quiet demeanor. Maybe she’s right; you two could definitely get along well.

After settling in, you change into the club’s shirt and some active shorts. You consider staying in the club even if you don’t manage to get close to Mark, because they’ve really made an effort to make you feel welcome. Despite having just joined, someone had already given you an extra club shirt to help you feel included.

There’s little time to rest. There were multiple activities planned for today ranging from high to low mobility. Mark mentioned one of the activities was arts and crafts. After a long day of settling in all you really wanted was to relax but with such an important mission going on you decide every second counts. You and Yujin head over to the cabin that hosts the art activates and you hope you run into mark somewhere along the way. The cabin is spacious, filled with heaps of art supplies and a few tables set up to work on.

Yujin splits off to find her original buddy, leaving you to navigate the cabin on your own. You haven’t seen Haechan since you arrived at camp.

There was a patio at the back with a few more tables, and since the wind wasn’t very strong, you decided to sit out there. Everyone was busy with their own projects, and you had chosen to make something that reminded you of Mark.

“What is that?” a voice asks. You look up from the glue sticks and paper you’ve been using.

“Origami. Do you think Mark would like it?” You ask Haechan.

“Maybe if he was twelve.”

“Not helping.”

“Okay, I think it’s kind of cute. Is it a star?” he asks, opening the notebook he brought.

“No, it’s a sunflower!” You reply, a bit offended.

“Why are you using glue for origami?” Haechan asks, picking up a spare pencil from the table and starting to sketch.

“The paper keeps tearing,” you shrug. “This is stupid. He’s in college, not kindergarten. What am I even doing?” you say in defeat. You still haven’t spoken a word to Mark since you arrived at camp.

You throw the origami sunflower onto the table and cross your arms. Haechan picks it up and carefully tucks it into the pages of his sketchbook. You figure he’s better off having it than Mark.

“Don’t frown like that; you’ll get wrinkles,” Haechan scolds gently.

“Oh, thanks for the advice! Last time I checked, you were supposed to be helping me figure out how to get Mark to like me!”

Haechan sketches absentmindedly. “Okay, let me think. How about you just be yourself?” he suggests.

Your frown deepens. “Have you met me? There’s nothing special about me. He wouldn’t like me,” you reply quietly.

Haechan sighs. “So you’re just going to pretend to be someone else forever if he does date you?”

“Yes,” you say, gazing out at the tree line and taking in the wild beauty. “If it means being by his side, then yes.”

“Fine, if that’s what you want,” Haechan says. “Tomorrow there’s a canoe race. I bet if you win, he’ll congratulate you.”

“You think something like that would impress him?” you ask.

“Mark likes athletic girls who can keep up with him. If you win, everyone will be talking about you,” Haechan explains.

“Maybe... we’ll see,” you say thinking on it. You head back to your cabin.

That night, you stay up with Yujin, talking about everything and nothing. Despite being polar opposites, you click surprisingly well. You’re still hesitant to tell her about your crush on Mark, but you do share your frustrations about Haechan.

“I can’t believe he said that,” Yujin giggles.

“And after all this, he acts like he doesn’t even remember me!” you add.

“Maybe he’s just embarrassed? He probably feels bad about what he did.”

“Well, then he should apologize!”

Yujin just shrugs, popping another candied rope into her mouth. She’s sitting at the only desk in the room, finishing her arts and crafts project from earlier. She’s working on some paper Mache lemon shark, despite your suggestion to finish it tomorrow in the craft cabin.

“I mean, what if this is his way of making amends? Didn’t he say he was going to help you get that guy to like you?” she says. You’ve explained the situation to her but left out any direct mention of Mark.

You consider the possibility but remain unimpressed. Even if Haechan somehow managed to make Mark fall for you, you’d never forgive him for everything he’d done.

You wake up to a light tapping and realize it’s Haechan knocking on the wood of your bunk bed.

“Rise and shine,” he says, peeking at you from behind his sunglasses.

“What time is it?” you ask, panicked.

Apparently, you’ve overslept a little. You had planned to wake up early, you just needed a few hours to practice for the race but now you were down to just 2. You scramble down from your bunk and notice the empty bed underneath yours—Yujin must have already left for the day.

“Can you step out? I need to change,” you say, ushering him out of the cabin.

Haechan waits outside while you quickly change into something light for the weather. Since you’ll be canoeing, you put on sandals, grab a towel in case you get wet, and slip on a visor.

With some time left before the race, you head over to the mess hall to grab a bite to eat. Haechan silently follows you and sits on the other side of the table, watching as you eat. The silence is thick, leaving you to focus on your meal while trying to shake off the lingering anxiety about the day ahead. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it made you realize how little you and Haechan had to talk about.

“Have you eaten already?”

“It’s 1 p.m.,” he replies.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Yes,” he says, and once again, silence falls between you.

You ignore his attitude, he was probably upset you woke up so late. You finish up, and Haechan stands to follow you. Together, you head to the lake to practice for the canoe race later. You find the shed with the equipment and drag one of the canoes to the water. Haechan holds it steady while you hop in, then pushes it into the lake and climbs in after you.

You had watched a YouTube video the other night and thought it looked easy enough. At first its hard to find the right rhythm but when you do, the rowing is relaxing. Unfortunately after about five minutes, your arms start to ache. You quickly realize that you’re not cut out for the outdoors or any physical labor.

“Would you row already? We’re barely moving!” Haechan calls from behind you.

“I’m tired! This was a bad idea,” you whine. Your arms are burning, and it feels like you’re rowing through sand.

“Well, if you don’t row, I’m not rowing either,” Haechan huffs, pulling his oars into the boat.

“Hey! Those are wet—you’re getting them on me!”

“Well then, pull your weight!”

“This was your idea!”

He glares at you in annoyance. “Fine! If you want to sit out here, we can!”

After sitting in silence for at least five minutes, you finally lean back against Haechan’s knees, surprisingly finding he doesn’t push you away.

“The race is going to start soon. We need to get back,” Haechan says. “I’m really going to need your help if we’re going to win.”

You look up at him and sigh in defeat. Knowing your probably being really childish, you pull your oars up, ready to help steer you both back to shore.

As you row in sync with Haechan, he starts singing a melody that matches your rhythm. His smooth, relaxing voice makes you forget about the burn in your arms. You don’t even notice when the canoe gently bumps against the sandy bank. By the time you pull the canoe to shore, everyone else is already preparing for the race.

“I know we just got the hang of this, but I definitely don’t think I can row again so soon. My arms feel like they’re going to fall off,” you say, stretching your limbs after being in the canoe for so long.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re a quitter, Y/N?” Mark says, walking up to you in nothing but a life jacket and swim trunks.

Your breath catches at the sight of his toned arms. “Um, no, absolutely not! I would never quit on you, Mark!” you say suddenly feeling energized.

Mark quirks an eyebrow at you with a smile. “What she meant was, you’re going to feel like quitting after we win first place.” Haechan says

"I'll be happy regardless of who wins,” you say cheerfully

"pick me" Haechan coughs out under his breath.

“That's the spirit! No one likes a sore loser!” Mark calls out before turning back to his team mates

After the initial overview of the rules, the announcer gives everyone 10 minutes to prepare. You don't have very high hopes of winning anymore, but you hope to at least have fun. You spot Yujin somewhere in the crowd, and she waves at you, giving you a thumbs up. There are 5 teams competing, while the rest of the people have either taken to the stands or are off doing some other small activities set up around the camp.

The race is starting, and once the gun sounds, you and Haechan get into your canoe and push off.

You start the race strong and manage to keep up with the others. Mark and his partner are in 1st place, while you are in 4th, just barely ahead of two girls rowing their canoes.

Your arms are growing tired, and you can feel your grip slipping on the oars. The other teams speed ahead without looking back. You try your hardest to row and are almost close to catching up, but then one of your oars slips.

“Wait, Haechan! I need to get my oar!” You call out, reaching back into the water to try and grab it before it floats away.

“Just leave it! Stay in the boat; it’s dangerous!”

You manage to grasp the oar with your fingertips, but suddenly, the canoe begins to tip over, and you’re falling into the lake.

You’re sinking.

In your haste to start the race, you had picked a lifejacket from the storage shed that was too big and didn’t fit properly. When you fell in, the lifejacket floated up to the surface and slipped out from under your arms as you sank to the bottom.

You lose consciousness, and the last thing you see before blacking out completely are two figures swimming towards you from above.

You wake up, coughing up water as someone hovers over you, patting your back to help you expel it all. You half expect to see Haechan, but when you look up, it's Mark.

"Are you alright?" he asks, concern in his voice.

As you take in your surroundings, you realize you're lying on the shore, surrounded by everyone. Yujin stands nearby, her eyes glistening with fresh tears as she looks over you. You search for Haechan and finally spot him kneeling on the other side of your body.

"Were you the one who saved me?" you ask Mark as he passes a soothing hand over your back.

"I heard all the commotion when you fell in. I had to do something, so I jumped in and went after you," he confirms.

Before you can think about it, you lean over and hug him. Silent tears stream down your face as you weep into his shoulder. You cry so hard that you don’t even notice Haechan’s slight frown that takes over his face as he watches Mark embrace you.

Today, you woke up early for breakfast. You sat with Haechan outside on one of the benches beside the lake as you ate.

"I can't believe Mark gave me CPR!" you gush. "He literally kissed me on the lips, and I have you to thank for that." You flash him a smile as you take a bite of your pancake.

"Well, drowning you was definitely not part of the plan," he replies. He's been a little quieter than usual this morning, and you can't help but wonder what's got into him. "You weren’t even awake for it, so it doesn’t count."

"You're just jealous because I got a kiss from Mark. Be honest, you like him too, don’t you?" you ask jokingly.

"And what if I do?"

“That makes you my love rival and I would have to kill you in your sleep,” you say, waving your fork in his face.

“Only if you promise to choke me out,” he says, taking a bite of his food with a playful smirk.

You stick your fork into his plate and take a bite out of one of his pancakes, not fighting the smile that spreads across your face. A part of you still feels a twinge of disgust at the thought of Haechan attempting to flirt with you, but you're in such a good mood that you can’t care less.

"Hey, Y/N. Good morning," Mark says, sitting down with his own plate of food.

"Oh, good morning, Mark!" You smile at him but can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye, so you focus on cutting your pancakes. You’re still embarrassed about crying all over him.

"I was just coming over to check on you. After yesterday, are you alright?" he asks.

"All thanks to you," you say, forking a piece of pancake into your mouth.

"Well, Haechan helped too," Mark adds matter-of-factly, glancing towards Haechan.

You do remember seeing another figure dive in after you, which might explain why Haechan has been so quiet today. You didn’t bother thanking him at all.

"Thanks," you say as sincerely as you can muster, but it still doesn’t carry the same weight of gratitude as when you thanked Mark. Haechan rolls his eyes playfully.

"I can really feel the sincerity," he says sarcastically. "It’s not like I saved your life or anything. If it wasn’t for me, you would have died and become a virgin ghost."

Mark chokes on a piece of sausage he was chewing, and you kick Haechan under the table. After clearing his throat, Mark makes an effort to change the subject.

"Hey, we're doing tug of war today. I want you on my team if you're up for—"

"I would love to!" you say before he can even finish, then awkwardly apologize for nearly cutting him off.

"Don’t be sorry. I really like that about you. You're so eager, and I’ve seen more drive in you than anyone else," he praises you.

You can’t even muster a reply, only offering him a shy nod, which he returns with a smile.

"Later on, do you want to meet up? we should go over a plan on how to win" he asks.

Your heart races, and you feel like you might die from excitement. Mark wanted to meet up with you to talk! You think you might have died and gone to heaven.

You spend time with Yujin and her friend wandering around camp because you couldn’t find Haechan again. You must have really upset him earlier. You make a mental note to properly thank him later.

After hiking with Yujin and Sungchan and playing a few games of ping pong at the rec cabin you bid them farewell. You know you need to meet Mark before the tug of war match so you head out to find him.

You spot him sitting under a tree, lounging in the sunlight that filters through the branches, much like a cat basking in the warmth of a sunlit window. He doesn't even open his eyes when he speaks to you.

“Isn't this so relaxing? We should just sit here and enjoy the sun.” he says

“oh? what about the game plan,” you say teasingly.

"Hmm..." He scrunches his face up in thought "ok the game plan is to win. now relax with me" he pats the spot next to him.

you feel your cheeks heating up. Was that just an excuse to get you alone?

He turns to you and finally opens his eyes. “You know, after all this time, you really haven't changed. It's just like how you were in high school.

He says, looking you over, like he was trying to piece the face of the young girl he once knew with yours.

“That doesn't sound good. I feel like I was so embarrassing back then.” You snort out a humorless laugh.

“No, you were really shy back then but I always thought you were adorable. I still think you are,” he admits.

Your heart stops beating in your chest. Mark Lee just called you adorable. You couldn't say anything as you just watched the large grin spread over his face. “See, like now, you always get so nervous when you talk to me”

You can feel the heat flooding your cheeks even more, and for a moment, all the years of awkwardness and uncertainty vanish in the warmth of his compliment. “Nervous? Me?” you tease, trying to regain your composure, but the softness in his gaze makes it hard to maintain your facade. Deep down, that shy girl still lingers, and as his smile broadens, you wonder if perhaps some things—like the way he makes you feel—never really change at all.

“Tug of war is starting,” a voice cuts off your train of thought along with any moment you and Mark had begun to share.

The familiar voice snaps you back to reality, and just like that, the moment dissolves into the background noise of laughter and playful shouts around you. Haechan stood in front of you. hands shoved deep inside his pockets as he regards you both. You were sitting shoulder to shoulder with Mark underneath the large oak tree and somehow his fingertips were just shy of yours, like he was just seconds away from reaching out to hold your hand.

“Lets go, captain; we won't be able to start without you,” Haechan says before turning around and walking towards camp.

“We should get going,” Mark says, standing up and outstretching a hand towards you. You take his grasp and he helps you up. You shift your focus, momentarily startled, as groups of people gather in anticipation for the game. Mark’s eyes sparkle with excitement, and his grin widens as he turns to join the crowd.

You find yourself standing in front of Mark in line for tug of war, with Haechan, the captain of the opposing team, glaring at you from across the rope. He seems a bit annoyed as your eyes meet over the mud puddle, perhaps wishing you'd joined his team, but there's no time to ponder that when the game starts and you're yanked in every direction. You dig your feet into the ground to stabilize yourself as your team struggles to hold on, determined to avoid getting covered in mud.

Despite your efforts, you slip, and with one final tug, your team is launched into the puddle. Mark manages to catch you before you fall, but you both tumble into the mud together. Wiping the dirt from your eyes, you see Mark fighting back laughter, which prompts you to scoop up some mud and toss it at him in retaliation. His laughter fades, and yours takes over as you watch him try to clean himself off, leaving you feeling like a kid again.

You both look ridiculous, covered in muck and breathless with laughter, the tension between you melting away in an instant. He glances at you with a mixture of surprise and delight, and you can't help but grin wider. “What was that about me being adorable?” you tease, wiping your hands on your shirt.

“Here, let me help you wipe the mud off your adorable face,” Mark threatens with muddy hands

“No, you don't,” you stand up and run. Well, you try to as you slip and slide from the mud caked on the bottom of your shoes. Even though you had lost, your team was full of laughter as Mark chased you through the field. Just when you think you might escape, you glance back, only to be pulled straight into his embrace—mud and all—in a blissful tangle of limbs, and for a moment, the entire world shrinks to just the two of you.

As you step out of the showers, the cool night air hits you, and a tingle of unease settles in since the walk back to your cabin feels especially long in the dark. Yujin had left with Sungchan earlier, leaving you solo and curious about their relationship; they'd grown really close during the trip, and you wish you had the chance to ask her about it. Shrugging it off, you gather your belongings, take a deep breath, and start the trek back, the soft sounds of the night around you doing little to ease your apprehension.

As you gaze over the serene lake, mesmerized by the moonlight reflecting off its surface, a sense of tranquility washes over you, and you momentarily forget your worries. You spot Haechan sitting alone on the dock that stretches out over the water, his silhouette framed against the shimmering backdrop. Curiosity piqued, you debated whether to approach him; he seemed lost in thought, and something about the scene felt deeply intimate.

As you approach Haechan on the dock, the soft fabric of your towel robe sways lightly around you, a reminder of the hasty shower escape and your choice to skip the communal changing area. You feel a mixture of vulnerability and determination bubbling within you—this is the perfect moment to apologize for ditching him during tug of war and to express your gratitude for coming to your rescue. You sense a warm openness in the air. Summoning your courage, you clear your throat and prepare to break the silence, hoping to bridge the gap created by your earlier absence.

"You can really see the stars out here," you say, settling down on the weathered wooden dock next to him. The cool night air wraps around you, and the gentle lapping of water against the dock.

"It’s my favorite thing about coming out here to the middle of nowhere," he replies, his eyes scanning the sky, sparkling with a mix of starlight and mischief.

"I thought being my partner would have been the best part of coming to the middle of nowhere," you joke, nudging him playfully with your shoulder as a breeze rustles through the trees nearby.

He turns his gaze toward you, the moonlight illuminating his features, and a warm smile forms across his face, making your heart flutter.

As you catch him admiring your star-lit features, your smile fades slightly with the weight of earlier events. You turn toward him more seriously and say, "Hey, I’m really sorry about earlier. I didn’t know you were captain of the other team; I would’ve joined your side for sure."

He scoffs lightly, and that infamous smirk dances back onto his lips, infectious and teasing. "I knew you were going to choose Mark over me. It’s no worries." His tone carries a hint of playful exaggeration, but you can sense the underlying disappointment, mixing with the warmth of the night as the stars twinkle endlessly above, both an audience and a comforting blanket to your candid moment.

“And about the lake, I want to properly thank you,” you say, your voice earnest “I saw you swim in after me; I should have thanked you for trying to save me.”

“Look, it’s nothing. Just drop it,” he replies, running a hand through his hair, frustration shadowing his once playful demeanor. The way he shuts you down, the subject must be sensitive.

Somehow, after all your gratitude, you’ve managed to turn the mood sour. “No, because you’re clearly upset about something.”

“I came out here to get some peace and quiet,” he snaps, irritation flashing in his eyes.

“Well, too bad. I’m not leaving you alone until you accept my apology,” you shoot back defiantly, crossing your arms.

“You are a spoiled brat, you know that?” he snaps, shaking his head in disbelief. Instead of backing down, he stands up, and for a moment, you expect him to walk away to his cabin. But then he unexpectedly pulls his shirt over his head. Your cheeks flush, and you quickly look away, heart racing, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment. The cool night air feels electric, and as he stands there, bare and confident, you sense a mix of irritation and something deeper stirring between you, leaving you breathless with unspoken tension.

“You pervert, what are you doing?” You exclaim, shielding your eyes but unable to resist peeking through your fingers.

“Going somewhere you can’t follow,” he replies with a mischievous grin as he shucks down his bottoms, leaving only his boxers.

Before you can even question his intentions, he plunges into the lake with a splash.

“Haechan! What are you doing?” You call out, watching as his head bursts back up, catching his breath.

“You want to talk about it? I dare you to jump in,” he smirks, water dripping from his hair and the moonlight dancing on the surface around him.

That jerk! He knows you can’t swim. There he is, the Haechan you knew and hated—cunning and infuriating. “You think I won’t?” you challenge him.

“I think you don’t have a death wish. Not before fucking Mark, at least,” he teases, pushing your buttons.

“I do not want to sleep with him!” You retort, frustrated, realizing he’s just trying to provoke you out of spite.

“Not before you kiss him, right?” Haechan replies, his words laced with subtle venom, making your heart race with anger and confusion.

“What are you talking about? What’s your problem, anyway?” you snap, irritation bubbling up inside you.

All you have is your robe, and jumping in would leave you completely naked, but he must know that. He’s banking on it, counting on your backing down. “You don’t think I’ll jump in? Watch me,” you declare, defiantly shedding your robe and standing before him, bare and unyielding.

The late hour feels charged with adrenaline, both of you possibly the only ones awake while others are tucked away in their cabins or lost in the woods. Your focus sharpens on the mission at hand: wiping that infuriating smirk off Haechan's face, proving him wrong.

“What are you—” Haechan stutters, his face beet red beneath the moonlight as he treads water, clearly taken aback by your boldness.

“Save me!” you shout just before you leap in, diving into the cool depths. You hold your breath, trying to swim to the surface, but panic begins to set in when you realize it’s no use. In seconds, Haechan is there, pushing your body against his as he powers you both upward.

When you finally break the surface, gasping for air, Haechan doesn’t miss a beat to scold you. “Are you fucking insane? What’s your problem? What if you would’ve drowned?” The worry in his voice makes you realize just how reckless your stunt was.

His grip on you slips, but you quickly wrap your legs around his waist to steady yourself. “I knew you wouldn’t let me drown,” you say with a teasing smile, and for once, Haechan is left speechless. In that moment, he becomes acutely aware of your naked body pressed up against his; the coolness of the lake contrasts sharply with the warmth radiating from you. As your skin brushes against his, he struggles to maintain his composure, desperately trying to think of anything but the sensation of you against him, knowing that if he doesn’t, you’ll surely feel the evidence of his escalating emotions pressing against your stomach.

“You need to learn how to swim,” is all he says.

“Teach me”

Haechan spends the next hour teaching you how to float. You liked that the most because you could just lay back and watch the stars. The next hour he teaches you how to doggy paddle something easy enough for you to learn in such a short amount of time.

After the initial adrenaline rush, you realized just how close you two were. You noticed the way his skin warmed yours against the cool lashings of the water. You don't know how or why but your heart starts to race and suddenly you wish you would have thought a little harder about jumping in completely naked. His hands hover near your waist as you practice, and in that moment, the usual teasing banter dissipates, leaving an intimate stillness between you. Out on the lake, it was just you, Haechan and the stars that lit the deep, dark sky.

As the chill begins to seep into your bones, Haechan helps you back onto the dock, where he hands you your robe with an embarrassed smile. You quickly slip your arms through the sleeves, wrapping it tightly around your body, grateful for the warmth it provides. Just as Haechan tugs his shirt back on, you realize how close you were to him moments before, the intimacy of the swim still lingering in the air. "So, you ready to talk? What's up with you lately?" you ask, your curiosity piqued by the quiet moments that have felt so different between you two. His expression shifts slightly, and you can sense there's more beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered.

“Mark wasn’t the one who saved you,” Haechan states after a thick silence, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. A shiver runs down your spine, the truth of the moment crashing into you.

“Well, sure he was. He said he pulled me out of the water,” you reply, but Haechan’s firm correction stops you in your tracks.

“We both pulled you out, but I was the one who did CPR on you, not Mark.”

Panic and realization ignite within you; Haechan was the one who had kissed you, the one who had breathed life back into you. The memory floods back—soft lips, warmth—and your heart races with the implications. “Are you kidding me?” you say with an incredulous laugh, frustration bubbling over. “Every. Single. Time. You do this every single time!” You stalk towards him the distance between you narrowing as you search for answers in his eyes.

His confusion was palpable as he struggled to grasp the depth of your feelings, completely unaware that for years he had been the invisible barrier between you and Mark. He had stolen your first kiss and now your second one as well, leaving you tangled in emotions you didn't quite understand.

“You cannot seriously be upset about that. Some thanks for saving your life,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes at the situation as if it were trivial.

Anger surges through you at his nonchalance, and you can't hold back the words that spill from your lips. “Fuck you!” you shout, the weight of your frustration fueling every stride as you storm back to your cabin, casting a final glance over your shoulder at the boy.

Your heart raced as anger coursed through you, mingling with an unwanted thrill that made you uneasy. You desperately wanted to push that feeling away; Lee Haechan could only ever make you feel disgust, not excitement. Yet, despite your efforts, you couldn’t shake the confusing mixture of emotions he stirred within you, leaving you frustrated and conflicted.

Despite your anger towards Haechan, he was the only one around lately, as Mark was swamped with camp activities and Yujin had been occupied with her partner. You couldn't help but recall teasing Yujin about their closeness. Being around Haechan felt risky after last night.. You weren't sure how you felt about him. There was a nagging emotion tugging deep in your gut and you were afraid of what it was. Even still, you figured awkward silence with him was preferable to slogging through Yujin's special edition of Moby Dick for a second time this trip.

Part of you was intrigued by the feeling bubbling inside—an inexplicable pull toward Haechan that you couldn't ignore. It was confusing, blending annoyance and curiosity, drawing you closer despite your better judgment.

Haechan seemed unfazed by your presence as you lounged on his bed, absently picking at a loose thread on your tank top. Surprisingly, you weren't as upset about the kiss anymore as you'd anticipated; the initial fury had faded, replaced by a sense of resignation. Given your streak of bad luck, perhaps you should have seen it coming all along.

“Are we really just going to sit here in silence?” Haechan sighed from his spot on the floor, tossing a poorly inflated volleyball into the air and catching it.

“Thank you for saving me,” you said, wanting to clarify. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh yesterday; I was just upset because the one step forward I thought I had was actually two steps back.” You tried to explain, hoping he understood it was nothing personal.

Haechan took a seat beside you on the bed and shrugged, a playful smile on his face. “I want to say I get it, but honestly, I really don't,” he laughed. “I’m a way better prize than Mark.”

You shoved at his shoulder, laughing, and for once, you weren’t preoccupied with all the things you disliked about him or the past he had put you through. As the evening wore on, you both found yourselves deep in an unexpected conversation, swapping stories about your earlier lives and uncovering shared interests in music, along with a mutual disdain for the mess hall dinners.

To your surprise, the tension began to dissipate, giving way to a reluctant camaraderie as you relaxed in his presence. In that quiet cabin, with the day’s light fading, something shifted in the atmosphere—something you couldn’t quite name yet, but it lingered like a promise of something more. Could you two actually become true friends?

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” he asks.

“Do you really not remember after all this time?” You ask skeptically.

Haechan joked, "Was I your first kiss?"

"Yes," you replied seriously, watching as his smile faded and surprise lifted his eyebrows.

"You never kissed anyone else before that? Well, lucky for you that you almost drowned," he quipped, trying to lighten the moment.

Confused, you shook your head. "What? No, not at the lake. Back in high school," you explained, frustration bubbling inside as you attempted to jog his memory. Haechan fell silent, narrowing his eyes as he searched his mind. You watched as the gears slowly turned, his expression shifting from confusion to sudden clarity, like a puzzle piece snapping into place.

"Chappy?!" he exclaimed finally.

You slapped his shoulder hard, fuming, “Yes, you asshole! Because of you, I had the worst 8th-grade year possible.”

Haechan’s mouth dropped open, and you could see the regret wash over his features. “I am so sorry. I never meant for that to happen,” he said, his voice laced with sincerity.

"Well, unlucky for you, that wasn't your only sin against me," you shot back, your tone sharp as you began to recount everything, filling in the blanks for him. By the time you finished revealing how many times he had sabotaged you throughout that year, the shocked expression on his face almost made you want to laugh—a bemused mix of disbelief and guilt that momentarily bridged the chasm of your shared past.

Another wave of realization crossed his face, and before you could ask if he remembered anything else, he said, "You must have hated me. You probably still do, huh?"

You answered honestly, “Maybe a little, but if there's anything I've learned from this trip, it's that you're not half bad,” offering him a small smile.

Haechan shrugged as he leaned back on his forearms. "Well, I guess that beats being a complete asshole," he replied, and you could see him processing all the new information. Suddenly, a devilish smirk appeared on his face, signaling that he was gearing up for another playful jab.

"If you think about it, those weren't really real kisses. They don't count," Haechan said, his gaze fixed on your lips. "If you want to have a real kiss, you'll need to practice. I can show you how, you know, so you'll know what you’re doing when you kiss Mark."

You hesitated, fully aware that Haechan's ideas were often terrible, but his playful intensity was hard to ignore. He leaned in closer, and as the air thickened with tension, you countered, "Well, if those aren't real kisses, then I still haven't had my first kiss. That means Mark still has a shot at being my first”

"Well, yes, but kissing me is different because we've already kissed. So any other kisses, especially ones done for practice, are null," Haechan argued, his eyes glinting with mischief. "That makes no sense," you replied, tilting your head in confusion. But then, with a breathless urgency, he added, "Kiss me." To your own surprise, you complied, drawn in by the moment's gravity, as the familiar spark ignited once more, blurring the lines between practice and something far more real. You didn’t know why you did it, but deep down, you blamed that feeling you had been trying to keep buried in the depths of your chest. As your lips met his, the warmth and flutter of emotions you thought were dormant surged back to life, leaving you breathless and questioning everything. The kiss stirred a whirlwind of confusion and desire, awakening a longing you had been too afraid to acknowledge.

You were awkward, that much was certain; you struggled to find the right angle, unsure where to place your mouth against his, yet you couldn’t deny the rush of warmth that spread through you at the contact. This kiss was different—driven and lingering, lasting longer than any before. You could feel his energy intertwining with yours, igniting something bold within you.

He pulled away slightly, a teasing smirk on his lips. “That’s how you kiss?” he quipped, and a wave of indignation washed over you. “Go to hell,” you shot back, rolling your eyes, but a newfound determination surged within.

With a fierce resolve, you leaned in again, pouring every ounce of passion you could muster into the kiss, playfully shoving him back until he was flat against the bed. You positioned yourself over him, straddling his waist, kissing him deeply again, letting go of all your inhibitions.

You pull away after a few more heated moments, breathless and eager for feedback. “How’s that? Better?” you ask, hopeful yet nervous.

“Hmmm, not bad, but you could use more tongue and you’re rushing,” he says.

“How am I rushing?” You retort, brows furrowing.

“You kiss like this; come here,” he replies, effortlessly pulling you back into another kiss. He bombards your lips with quick, short, frantic kisses and your shocked when he finally stops.

“No way!” you gasp, eyes wide. You kisses were definitely rushed and a little desperate. You cant help the way your cheeks heat up.

“Yes! So if you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Mark, you better practice,” he says with a cheeky grin, leaving you flustered and eager to improve.

The fact that you could count your steamy interactions with Haechan on one hand while not being able to recall a single one with Mark left you vexed. It felt as if the universe was trying to convey something crucial to you—actually, scratch that; it was YELLING at you. Every thought for the past hour had revolved around Haechan.

His soft lips, that cute smile that recently made your heart race, the way his soft brown hair begged for your fingers to tangle in it, and the warmth he radiated that made you crave closeness. You wanted to scream, overwhelmed by the intensity of your feelings bubbling just beneath the surface, pulling you closer to Haechan despite the nagging logical part of your mind.

You tried to remember all the sweet moments with Mark—his laughter, the way he made you smile, and those cozy evenings together—but nothing worked to take your mind off Haechan. For hours, it felt like Haechan had consumed your thoughts completely, his playful smile and warmth overshadowing everything else.

Today's activity was hiking, and while everyone paired off, you decided it was time to step up your game. You needed stories to impress your roommate, Yeri, who doubted your chances with Mark. Spotting Mark alone with his planner, you approached him. "Hey Mark! Let’s partner up; I haven’t seen Haechan around."

“That actually works out, apparently Hyunjin got sick and is sitting out today.” Today might finally work out in your favor.

RIP to Hyunjin, but honestly, that was the best news you’d ever heard. As long as Haechan stayed out of the way, you could spend so much more time with Mark. About ten minutes later, everyone began the trail after checking in, and you felt a surge of excitement. Haechan ended up tagging along with Jeno and Jaemin, which you were grateful for, but a glance at his face made it clear he wasn't thrilled about you ditching him. Deep down, you hoped he would understand; after all, this was a chance you couldn't pass up.

Today was so perfect, it almost made you want to cry. The weather was lovely; despite the heat, a refreshing breeze blew often enough to keep you cool. As the group began to disperse, stopping to admire the scenery, it ended up being just you and Mark. As long as you didn’t glance back at the people about ten feet behind you, it felt like you and Mark were the only ones in the world. This was the most you had ever spoken with him, and soon a comfortable silence settled between you two. Your heart soared with every smile and laugh he shared, filling you with indescribable joy. This was right—this was where you were meant to be.

“You know you’re really cool; we have to hang out back on campus,” Mark says, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” you reply with a smile.

“You’re not just saying that, right? You promise to hang out with me?” He asks teasingly.

“I should be saying that to you; you’re not too cool to be seen with me, right?” you counterplayfully.

“Absolutely not,” he states with a tone of finality, and you believe him. Throughout the trail, you take plenty of photos of Mark and the beautiful surroundings, even snapping a few selfies together. Tomorrow will be your last day with him, and you’re certain that, above all else, you’ve gained a friend. As the sun sets and you walk back to camp with a lightness in your step, you spot Haechan engrossed in conversation with a girl who laughs at everything he says. Jaemin and Jeno are nowhere in sight, and unease settles in as you notice the way Haechan looks at her and how she stands too close for comfort. Mark notices the change in your expression and follows your gaze, a knowing smirk dancing on his face.

“Haechan, huh? I always thought you two would be cute together,” Mark says teasingly.

“Huh? What are you talking about? I don’t like Haechan!” You reply, trying to brush it off.

“I can practically see the jealousy radiating off you. Don’t worry, I won’t tell him,” he laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“No, no, you’ve got the wrong idea,” you start to insist, but suddenly, a voice cuts you off.

“MARK!” Jaemin calls out, standing with Jeno and Chenle. “We’re heading to dinner! We can’t promise to save you a seat, so hurry up!”

“I’m coming!” Mark shouts back, then turns to you. “Are you coming?” With a heavy heart, you reply,

“Nah, I think I’m going to head back,” attempting to cling to the remnants of your joy. As Mark walks away, your resolve crumbles, and you fight back tears, feeling the sting of his words. The realization that Mark believed you had a crush on Haechan cuts deep, turning your emotions into a bitter swirl.

“Well, you know who else would make a cute couple? Me and you,” you think angrily, silently cursing him for misinterpreting your feelings.

You were livid. The emotions swirling inside you were a chaotic storm—jealousy, hurt, confusion—but anger was the one that cut through clearly and sharply. Anger was familiar; anger wasn’t confusing. Fueled by it, you stormed over to Haechan and interrupted his conversation with the pretty girl, who was hanging onto his every word. Without uttering a single word, you seized his arm and yanked him away from her. He followed you, bewildered but compliant.

You dragged him towards your cabin, deliberately ignoring the whoops and hollers from Jaemin and the others. Their laughter and commentary only fueled your resolve. They probably thought it was some melodramatic jealous lovers' spat. You didn’t care. Mark had only ever seen you as a friend, and after all these years, you were beginning to accept that he probably always would.

You burst into the cabin, startling Yujin, who was busy packing for tomorrow's departure. “I need a moment, Yujin. Do you think you could...” You start, but the words fade as she swiftly grabs her phone and exits. The door clicks shut behind her, sealing you in with Haechan. Finally releasing his arm, you spin around to face him with fire in your eye

"You! Always Lee fucking Haechan! Since the beginning of time, you've done nothing but get in my way! I'm so sick of you; stay away from me!" You scream, feeling the weight of your emotions lash out. You know it doesn't all make sense, but in the heat of the moment, you couldn't care less.

Haechan narrows his eyes, defensively replying, “I don’t know what your issue is, but I didn’t ask to be your partner if that’s what you’re mad about. If anyone should be upset, it’s me! You ditched me today and then snatched me away like some jealous girlfriend when I’m trying to get laid!” His annoyance only fuels your fire.

“Tragic! Try being cock-blocked for years!” You shoot back, the words spilling out as raw emotions clash in the air between you.

“Can’t cockblock if you never stood a chance,” he sneers, a smirk playing on his lips, but you let the insult roll off your shoulder—if he wants to bite deep, you can certainly bite back.

“And you think someone as pretty as her would have given you the time of day?” You mockingly laugh, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Please, in your dreams,” you add, relishing the way his expression shifts, a mix of anger and disbelief flashing across his face as the words sink in, igniting the tension that crackles between you both.

“Well, you didn’t seem to have a problem talking to me,” he says, and you open your mouth to retort, only to close it in confusion—did he just indirectly call you pretty? The realization swirls in your mind, making it hard to concentrate. “You want to know what you are? You’re selfish. You use me to get close to Mark and then just throw me away. You were supposed to be mine, you hear me? You think I want her? I want you!” he declares, closing the distance between you, and as his words sink in, your mind races to catch up, grappling with the intensity of what he just revealed and the undeniable heat of the moment.

“I want you,” he repeats. “Do you hear me?”

Your heart betrays you, racing faster than you'd like to admit, while your limbs feel unsteady and weak, like jelly under his intense gaze. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, a sensation more intense than anything you’ve felt before, and you wrestle with the surge of feelings you'd tried so hard to suppress. But when he reaches out, cupping your face gently, you don’t shy away; there’s no twisting in disgust. Instead, your eyes soften, and you lick your lips, anticipation thrumming in the air as he draws you in slowly, inching closer until you're just a breath apart, the tension palpable and electrifying.

“Tell me you want me,” he murmurs.

“I do,” you whisper back, your heart racing with each word.”

“Say it.” His insistence draws you in deeper.

“I want you.”

“And who am I?” he presses, seeking affirmation. He wants you to acknowledge that you’ve chosen him, not by chance or coincidence but by deliberate choice, over Mark.

“Lee Haechan,” you breathe, almost as if casting a spell. His name feels imbued with a kind of magic, because in that breath, he kisses you, and everything around you blurs into a mesmerizing haze. His lips move against yours—slow and deliberate, every sensation amplified, as if he’s savoring every second. His lips are warm and soft, brushing against yours with a tender urgency. The contact is electric, sending a shiver through you that pulses with each heartbeat.

As his lips continue to dance against yours, the softness of his touch is a gentle counterpoint to the intensity of the moment, creating a tantalizing balance of passion and delicacy. His hand, still cradling your face, provides a reassuring sense of grounding. The gentle parting of his lips was an open invitation to surrender to the kiss and let him slip his tongue inside your mouth. You could taste a hint of his mint gum as the kiss grows more fervent. His other hand finds its way to the small of your back, pulling you even nearer.

You soon realized that Haechan’s kissing “lessons” would have never worked on Mark. Haechan had shown you exactly what he liked—how he wanted to be kissed, how he wanted to be touched. Through these lessons, he had sculpted you into the perfect match for him. You had become attuned to his desires because he had made you so—you were made uniquely for him.

Haechan was never going to help you win over Mark—how could he when the two of you went together?

You’re not quite sure when it happened, but suddenly you realize both your shirts have been pulled off, his warm skin pressing against your stomach and through your bra. His hands travel down your back, gripping your hips. As your feet shuffle, your back meets the mattress of Yujin’s bed, since you usually sleep on the top bunk. You know you’ll have to apologize to her later, but at the moment, thoughts of anything other than Haechan vanish from your mind.

“I’ve always wanted you; I never forgot you,” Haechan confesses, pulling away from the kiss. His lips find your skin again, kissing softly along your shoulder and down your chest. “I’m sorry. I’m going to make it up to you—all night if I have to, until you forgive me,” he promises, gently pulling your bra down before lavishing kisses on your exposed skin. The quick nips of his teeth elicit small, involuntary moans from your lips, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

“I don't know; it might be awhile before I can forgive you for the chappy bit,” you tease, your breath hitching with excitement.

He chuckles softly, his confidence shining through. “You can stay as mad as you want; just means I have more time to work my charm”

The laugh that you let loose turned to muffled moans as you bit your lip as he seductively licks his way down to your body until he's pulling at your shorts and underwear. You were both covered in a light sheen of sweat already after from the warm summer air so his skin stuck to yours as he pressed your naked bodies against each other. He settles between your legs and nuzzles into your neck as he rocks his hips into yours. Each pass through your folds had his length more and more slick with your juices. You glide your fingers through the back of his head before you tug, pulling him, wanting to join your lips again, wanting to swallow his moans.

You could feel his desperation in the way he kissed you. He kissed you like he had been waiting a thousand years to get you exactly where he wanted you. He kissed you like he had missed you. He kissed you like you were supplying his last breaths. This is when you knew it.

It was never going to be Mark, not if Haechan had anything to say about iy.

You lock eyes before you shift your hips in a way that has him slipping deep inside of you. You wouldn't tell him but you find it amusing how, no matter how far back you looked, you always had strong feelings about him. Weather that was anger, irritation, or adoration. He always made you feel something. He made you feel.

Mark made you think.

Think about how you would get him to like you

Think about whether you would ever be enough for him

Thinking and obsession all over him

The way Haechan controls his hips as he drives deeply into you has you curling your legs around his waist. You couldn't describe the feeling as anything other than drunken ecstasy.

Your breaths intertwined, creating a melody of soft moans and whispered exhilarations that echoed in the stillness around you. The heat from your bodies mingled with the warm air of the early evening, amplifying the intoxicating blend of passion and desperation that lingered between you.

His gaze, filled with an intensity that made your heart race, locked onto yours as he captured your lips once more, deepening the kiss The world around you melted away, leaving only the two of you wrapped in this shared moment of intimacy.

You could feel every pulse of pleasure radiating through you, each one more potent than the last, as he pressed deeper, his hands firm on your thighs, anchoring you to him as if he were afraid to let you slip away. The sensation was electric, sending shivers down your spine, and you reveled in the way he made you feel so completely alive.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a sultry whisper that sent another wave of heat pooling within you.

All you could do was moan in response, arching your back and urging him on, your body craving more of him, more of this exhilarating connection that felt so right yet so incredibly wrong. You were aware of the uncharted territory you were embarking upon, but the allure was too potent to resist.

He shifted, locking you against the mattress as he picked up the pace, the intensity of his movements sending you spiraling further into bliss. You surrendered to the sensations, to him, letting every ounce of pleasure wash over you like a tide. In that moment, the chaos of your thoughts faded, leaving only the euphoria of the now and the magnetic pull you felt toward him.

“Make me yours,” you breathed, your voice thick with desire as you searched his eyes for assurance.

His expression shifted, a mix of mischief and sincerity washing over his features. "You were always mine," he urged, his lips brushing against yours, igniting yet another spark of passion as your bodies moved in perfect harmony.

As the world faded away, everything came down to this—two bodies entwined, two souls colliding in a moment that felt both inevitable and exhilarating. And as he filled you completely, you understood that this connection was one you had always longed for, a connection that set fire to your inhibitions and awakened a part of you that had long been dormant.

You had no idea how you would explain this to Yeri back at home—how you left on a mission to win Mark but managed to bring Haechan back. You thought back to the way he had made you feel—how vibrant and alive he made you feel. It was exhilarating and undeniably real, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of it all.

“Is something funny?” Haechan murmured, looking down at you with a playful sparkle in his eyes, breaking you from your reverie.

“Just thinking about how hard it’ll be to explain all of this,” you chuckled softly.

He arched an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh? And what are you going to say?”

You shrugged, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “I guess I’ll just have to tell them that life has a way of surprising you.”

A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear. “You could say you went for one guy, but the universe had other plans.”

You giggled, feeling the playful banter flow between you. It was easy, natural. Just like this connection you had found, so unexpected yet somehow right.

In that moment, nestled against him, you realized you didn’t care how you would explain it. You didn’t need a plan or a story—what mattered was how you felt right now, the joy and passion igniting your heart. You had gone out seeking one thing, and you had indeed found it—but in Haechan. You found something amazing.

[tasteleeknow]

LIVING IN THE RUINS

minho x fem!reader. 2k words. minors dni. best friends to lovers. soft!minho. angst. fluff. jealousy. emotional hurt/comfort. smut with feelings, in a tent.

“Excuse me?”

You blink at the stranger in front of you. She seems to materialise before your eyes. You’d zoned out again and missed the attention your best friend had clearly been receiving from strangers in the crowded room. “I was wondering if I could get your number?” she asks, eyes fixed on Minho’s. She blinks quickly a few times, her long dark lashes fluttering much like your heart in your chest. 

She hasn’t looked at you once despite your close proximity. You’re so close to the object of her attention in fact, your thigh brushes against Minho’s jeans under the table. 

He shifts beside you, sitting up straighter in the booth. “Oh,” he says, clearly taken off guard as well. “Thank you. I mean that’s — I don’t—” 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks with a small tilt of her head. 

“No,” Minho answers quickly, incapable of lying. His discomfort radiates off him. You’d spent years learning his emotional tells. “I mean—” 

“He’s not into women,” you interrupt, finally drawing her attention to you. She blinks before her eyes drop down to your chest and back to your eyes, like she’s completely taken aback by your presence. It’s impossible, you know that logically. Still, she puts on a good performance. “Sorry,” you add. 

Her lips curve into an unconvincing smile. “No worries,” she says. “The hot ones never are.” 

The whole exchange is as short as it is ordinary. How many tipsy girls work up the courage to ask the pretty man across the bar for his number? You would bet money on it happening multiple times over somewhere across the planet at any given moment. It’s normal. Mundane. Still, you know it’ll chip a little more of your carefully built wall away. A chisel to stone, slow and steady. The only problem is that it’s been chipped at for years. You can feel the fragility of it these days, each chisel etch feels alot like when you’re down to the end of a game of jenga. 

Any move now will cause it to crash and fall. 

She hadn’t considered for a moment you might have been together — not when she’d spotted him across the room, clearly with you — and not when she’d gotten close and blatantly ignored your comfortable proximity to each other. Her question about his relationship status had been an afterthought, a possibility she hadn’t considered until faced with a response other than ‘yes’. She’d been expecting a yes.

The thought that he might be with you, might be attracted to you, was unconsidered. You wonder if she’d discussed it with her friends. ‘No,’ they might have said. ‘There’s no way he’s with her.’

Minho is quiet as the petite brunette turns on her heels and disappears back into the mass of people. His red ears give his embarrassment away. 

You nudge his shoulder, rocking him out of his trance. “Hey,” you prod. “Alright?” 

The smile he offers you is a little lopsided — very Minho. “Always,” he says. 

—

Your annual camping trip is just like the year before. Your small group of friends sets up camp in your usual spot. Everyone climbs into their usual tents. Everyone assumes you and Minho will be sharing, as always. 

You’re not sure why it hurts so much. They assume that nothing would ever happen between you. None of the other girls share a tent with a guy they aren’t dating. You’re the exception. Because Minho would never want you. 

He notices your low mood later that night. The group separates in the dark to play flashlight tag and as you find yourself wandering a secluded patch of the campsite, you know he knows. His attention is on you instead of where he’s walking. You almost scream when he falls into apparent nothingness. 

“I’m fine,” he quickly reassures you, pulling himself up from the ground. “Just dropped my glasses.” 

“God, you scared me.” 

It takes you both at least ten minutes to find them, relying purely on touch alone. It's too dark to see much at all without a light and using your phones would give your position away. 

You’re grateful for the darkness when you reach up and place his frames gently on his face. It hides the heat in your cheeks when you brush chocolate brown hair behind his ears, ensuring you’ve placed them properly. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, close enough that his breath warms your lips. 

You’re also grateful just to be near him, you realise. Just to know him. You love him. 

You love him. 

It’s an earth shattering realisation to have while playing flashlight tag in the middle of nowhere. You need to escape. You can’t. You’re sharing a tent with him. 

The situation isn’t helped when later in the night one of the girls with big bright eyes and a gentle smile makes a very clear move on him. You were used to it. People loved him. 

You loved him. 

It’s a stupid thing to cause the wall to finally crumble. It’s humiliating really. But when he laughs at something she whispers in his ear: it happens. 

It falls. 

You’re pathetic without it. 

All you can do is hide from him, escape to the tent and pretend to be so tired you’ve fallen asleep before he can investigate. It’s not something you do. Not with Minho. He knows you so well hiding from him is just as stupid as it is pathetic. He’ll know. 

Still, you can pretend. He won’t know as long as you’re unconscious. You can put it off until morning. 

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep. You lie there staring at the canvas of the tent for what feels like hours, the sounds of him tossing and turning continuing for so long you almost give up. 

But then he’s still. His breathing seems to even out. He’s asleep. 

That’s when you let yourself cry. Quietly at first; silent aching sobs. 

What a time for the wall to crumble. You wonder if you have the energy to rebuild. You’ll have to find it. The alternative is letting Minho go entirely, removing him from your life and letting the ruins erode away over a long, long time. 

Not an option. 

“Hey,” Minho’s soft voice calls. Shit. You wipe clumsily at your eyes and sodden cheeks. “Hey, what’s going on? What happened?” he questions as his palm rests gently against your shoulder. 

You should face him. You can’t hide. You know it. 

“No-thing,” you whimper, breath catching between each syllable. It’s that awful breathless kind of sobbing, the type that leaves you unable to inhale fully, let alone speak. 

He rolls you over onto your back. He isn’t rough — but it’s with enough strength you’re completely unable to resist him. 

“What is it?” he says again, tone much more forceful now. He isn’t letting it go. He looks down at you with wide eyes, like he’d never been asleep at all. 

You shake your head. 

His gentle thumbs move to your cheeks to attempt to wipe away the mess you’d left behind. He rests on one arm, leaning over you so he can give each cheek the same treatment. It’s a curious instinct, to wipe away someone's tears — like it has any effect on the person’s pain at all. It’s the best we can often do, you suppose. 

“Just focus on breathing,” he says. “Just breathe.” His hand stays against your cheek, fingers resting on your neck by your ear — featherlight. 

Breathing is easy, in theory. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. His lips part to join you, guide you. His lips are still a little red from his bedtime routine, his tinted vaseline usually lasting him the entire night. 

“That’s it,” he soothes when you finally manage a few steady breaths in a row. “That’s good. You’re okay.” 

They’re simple words of comfort. The kind of thing anyone would say to a person in distress, but they settle something in your chest. You were okay. He was yours in a way that was more than nothing. He cared in a way that felt so genuine it was hard to be dissatisfied with the nature of it at all. 

“Did something happen today?” he asks, still leaning over you. It’s a vulnerable position to be in. It mirrors how you know this conversation will go. Your wall is a crumbled mess. You have no defences against him. 

“Not really.” 

His eyebrows pull together. 

“Nothing worth this,” you clarify. 

“Tell me.” 

“It’s not… It’s embarrassing.” 

His lips curve in a tiny lopsided smile, just a hint of amusement. “Friends are for sharing embarrassing things with. And I’m your friend,” he says. “Aren’t I?” 

You blink quickly a few times, desperate to keep your tears at bay. Then you nod weakly. 

“Why do you look so miserable about it?” he says, tone light and teasing. 

Your lips wobble a little as you struggle with the words attempting to burst forth. They pound and burn and demand to be set free. You lose the battle. “I love you.” 

He blinks, eyes flicking across your face. 

The gates are open now. You’re turned loose. “I love you so much,” you sob. “It hurts. It hurts everyday and it just keeps getting worse and I can’t—” 

His lips cut you off, a warm, heart-stopping, and very much welcome interruption. He’s kissing you. He’s—

“Stop,” he mumbles against your wet, salty lips. “Stop hurting. Please.” His next kiss is unbearably soft, a brush against your upper lip. “Please,” he whispers. 

You nod dumbly.

He rewards you with a collection of gentle kisses across your cheeks, replacing the remnants of your tears with the sticky wetness of his moisturised lips. You imagine the slight red marks he must leave behind. 

He settles over you properly at some point. You’re too distracted by the path of his lips to notice exactly when. But then his arms are by your head, caging you under him in a way that makes you hope for the universe to halt all progression forward. This was enough; everything. 

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips finally. “I’m… sorry for letting you think I don’t. I’m a coward.” 

“No,” you chastise quickly as you tangle your fingers in his hair. “Don’t say shit like that.” 

“I—” 

“It hurts me… and you told me to stop hurting.” 

His head drops to your neck… then, with a soft press of his lips to your skin, “Then I’ll never do it again.” 

Every move he makes is gentle when the slow, indulgent kisses turn into exploring hands and whispered pleas for more. Each of his whisper-soft words of affection sweeps away a crumbled section of your wall, clearing the space to build something entirely new. He’s warm, so warm as his bare torso rests on yours — as he finally presses inside you and sucks a mark into your neck to join the rest he’s left. “Doesn’t hurt?” he asks, stilling as he fills you completely. 

“No,” you gasp. “No, you’re… it’s—” His lips take the words from your mouth, a little messier than he’s been before. When his hips roll into yours you can’t help grasping at him like he might suddenly get up and leave — fingers tangling in his hair desperately.

“I got you,” he mumbles against your lips, heavy breaths mingling with your own. “I got you…” 

When he eventually spills inside you, flooding you with more of his warmth, you’re crying again. But this time it doesn’t hurt; this time it’s a release. The tears that he kisses from your face afterwards — they wash away the rest of the rubble.

[14thgalerie]

path to you

• pairing: theodore nott x reader

• now playing: war of hearts by ruelle

• word count: 7.3k

• genre: angst, fluff every now and then

— not proofread, i wrote this on a whim the other night and only finished last night.

Theodore Nott stood amidst the crowd of returning students aboard the Hogwarts Express, his heart heavy with a blend of emotions.  His eyes were ablaze, lit with determination in search of that one familiar figure with locks he spent nights running his fingers through. However, as the last call to board the train echoed through the station, his hope was diminished when there was still no sign of you.

In truth, he knew it was futile right from the moment the both of you had left Hogwarts. The incident— if that was what he would even call it for that— was the moment that Voldemort had truly begun making his appearance known to the students of Hogwarts. 

He was no innocent bystander to this, the mark that burns on his right arm is a constant, painful reminder of that. His father had mercilessly subjected him through the initiation process, appointing him watch of Draco to ensure he would follow the Dark Lord’s order just as others had been compelled to do.

However, in the brief moment that he knew your eyes had latched on to an exposed skin of his sleeved arm, a fear struck him, unlike the familiar one that had long been instilled by his father. He decided that he would rather weather the searing pain that seemed to burn deeper for every day that Dumbledore roamed the grounds than prove he was no trustworthy person to you now. He would ignore the ache that pried into his very soul as you steer a conversation away as he picks you up from your friends.

Despite this, in the dark and dreary summer, he is left terribly alone with only thoughts of you entangled in his mind. The old days of sunshine only remain in memory, as he supposes is a communal thing for all of you as Voldemort continued to infiltrate and pollute the magical world with his influence. 

Theodore had written you a myriad of letters over the many days, his heart engraved with every droplet of ink that marks the parchment.  

I miss you.

I beg of you to tell me that I’m not as forgettable as your silence otherwise makes me feel.

But every owl that returned carried nothing but itself. No words from you. Not a single one even from your friends, a choice he made in desperation, regardless of the consequences if his father found out he had been in contact with one of you. 

He knew that they knew where you were, even if it might not be the entirety of it. If there was one thing he truly regretted before, it would be his cowardice. His fear runs deep in the thick crimson inside of him that dictated his every move. Though he shares a strong companionship with Mattheo and the others, Theo remains in awe of the camaraderie that you have with your friends at this time.

Driven purely by the need to be a catalyst; to make an end of this war.

With the sudden void torn into his at your disappearance, Theo found his heart crystallising once again, trying to preserve what little warmth is left by you. 

Praying to a god he doesn’t believe in, begging that there will never come a day that he won’t know your last words.

You exhale slowly.

The morning had barely started, and the sun was still but a ray in the dim sky. You tug the blanket over your face, blinking once, twice. The stream below the knife-like hill they had taken camp in, continued its hum.

It has been roughly three months since the start of the school year started, and four months since you have made the decision to accompany Harry, Hermione, and Ron in the hunt for Horcruxes. Four, lengthy months since you’ve last exchanged words with Theo, afraid that you would let this mission slip, Merlin knows he knows you better than you did.

If circumstances were different and he was not tied by that horrific mark, maybe he would be even with you. But reality is unforgiving and you are left in sorrow for the easy times you’ve taken advantage of.

There were times it felt ghastly to keep certain things to yourself, for so long it had been you and Theo, sharing the deepest truths. Then in a snap of a finger, it seemed most of what came out of you were lies, all in the name of protecting your friends. But it was paramount to be cautious nowadays, even if Theo was careful and dedicated to keeping crucial information, you couldn’t shake off the fear that Voldemort may attempt to pry on his mind.

Harry, with all his strength, is no exception to Voldemort’s manipulation of the mind. What more of Theo?

You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if everything came crumbling down the moment Voldemort sought Theo’s memories.  

Sometimes, you couldn't help but feel the urge to apparate for even just a moment. Just a minute. You found it difficult to get rid of the nagging feeling that he now despised you for doing this, for running away and leaving him, despite the promise you made only a year ago. It was a constant tug-of-war of the heart and the mind, most days leaving you drained in addition to the physical exhaustion.

I miss you.

I hate this uncertain silence that does nothing but bring you forth.

“Y/N? Are you awake?” You hear a voice call out.

You snap yourself out of your thought

“What time is it?” You mumble. Hermione’s sharp ears are used to your morning voice by now. “It’s already 8 in the morning, Y/N. Get up.”

“Goddess!” You shot up, “Why didn’t you wake me up earlier, my shift was supposed to be an hour ago.”

With one less person in your team, as Ron left in his fury, the rest of you had to take shorter rests now.

“It’s fine, I couldn’t sleep anyway,” Hermione reassures her. You stand and make your way down to the table where a cup of steaming tea is left for you. “Are you alright?” You ask.

She merely hums in question but makes no indication that she will answer. Instead, she walks out of the tent to sit on one of the rocks nearby. 

“He will be fine, mione.” You say, following her. “Ron has been through so much in the past, I think by this time, he would be able to get by on his own.”

You pull her into a side embrace, holding her close without saying anything as she rests limply underneath your arm. She needed it. Sacrificing the risk of her parents forever forgetting that Hermione was their daughter had taken a heavy toll on your friend. Leaving them in the house she deemed her sanctuary from the destruction, the madness that reigned outside.

With Ron having left the three of you. Although you weren’t as close with the redhead, you knew he had been Hermione’s shoulder— ever since forever. You understood how she felt or even a spectre of it, for you, too, had left someone behind.

Someone that you could only beg the gods remains breathing and unsullied by the encroaching darkness that seemed to follow him.

“And what about you?” Hermione whispered softly, the tears that lined her cheeks dry now. “What do you mean?”

“Nott.” Hearing the name instantly formed a small, melancholic smile on your face. 

“I’m your best friend, Y/N. You can stop pretending to be the shield for us now, Harry and I will be here for you. You can cry.”

Your gaze remains fixed on the sight before you. Atop the hill, the pale gold ball of sunlight emerges and bathes the cold stone in warmth. Reminiscent of the days before the Triwizard Cup, before Cedric died. It all seemed so far away now.

“I’ve exhausted all the tears from me already, Hermione. I miss him terribly. I may just crumble beneath his feet the very moment that I see him again.”

“It’s difficult what you had to do. I can’t even begin to decipher it. The both of you had consistently defied, and will likely continue to do so, every misconception that the others had of you back when you were still friends." 

“I hate how there was not a scintilla of hesitation and doubt in me when I had to keep so many things from him when I had to lie to him.” You croak out, voice barely above a whisper.

“You did so because you knew that in the end, it wasn't just for the best of the wizarding world that you deliberately did all of that, it’s all for him. You did it because you wanted to keep him safe from that vile, bald head.” 

You nod. It's true. Ever since you found out about the abuse that Theo’s father inflicted upon him, you knew that there would come a day when he would pay the price for it. Knowing that he couldn’t escape him before he turned 17, the only solace you can provide is your unwavering companion.

It only weighed on you heavily that Theo would have to endure it all alone again so that you could work to permanently sever the ties between him and his malevolent father..

“We’re kids.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over, and you clenched your fists in frustration. At Voldemort, at Theo’s father, at your parents who left you all alone, at the lost innocence of your childhood.

“We’re supposed to be ripping our hair off for NEWTS, preparing for life after we leave Hogwarts, dancing and drinking our teenage years away. Why did we have to make all these choices? The storybooks on my shelf speak nothing of this.”

Then, her gaze unwavering firmly set on you as she sat up straight. “We’re doing this so that Voldemort, or any wizard that dares follow his steps, may never inflict the kind of pain on anyone else, the way he did to us and our parents.”

Heart heavy with foreboding and unease, Theodore stands among the students of Hogwarts in the dimly lit Great Hall. The room, devoid of its warm glow and chatter, was bathed in eerie silence where Snape, now the headmaster of Hogwarts, had summoned every student. From the tense shoulders of the man, Theo could only surmise that it was something important. It was rare to see Snape truly bothered.

“Many of you are surely wondering why I have summoned you here at this hour. It came to my attention that earlier this evening... Harry Potter was sighted in Hogsmeade.” 

A murmured thrill fills the Hall. Theodore’s eyes widened, as he waited for a sign. If Harry Potter was nearby, it could only mean that you were too.

Snape continues, raising his voice a tad bit to quell the noise. “Should anyone — student or staff — attempt to aid Mr. Potter, that person will be punished in a manner consistent with the severity of their transgression. Rest assured: So long as I am Headmaster at Hogwarts, Harry Potter will never again step foot in this castle.”

Theo only hears the latter of what he said, mind distracted by the idea that you could be in the castle. His feet itched to run out and find you himself. Not an ounce of care for what the man in front is saying.

“Now then. If anyone here has knowledge of Mr. Potter’s movements this evening... I invite them to step forward now.” 

However, the sound of footsteps catches his attention in the dead silence, and the younger Slytherin students near him exchange glances with each other. Then a figure appears from the shadows at the back of the hall. Someone that brought forth a sigh of a blend of relief and disbelief from Theo. An action that the younger him would probably scoff at.

“I think I can help you out with that…” Harry exclaims, “It appears that, even with all your thorough defensive measures, you might have a security problem, Headmaster”

The students all stare in utter perplexity, each wondering when and how the bespectacled boy had entered the castle. A vacuous question really for Harry has proven countless times that he is, in several ways, a gifted person who is filled with more courage and resolve than anyone in this room. Even Theodore, who’s good friends with Draco, can admit that fact.

The sight of Harry struck a spark of hope in a place that had grown increasingly bleak since the death of Dumbledore— Diggory’s death if you will. But the spectacle wasn’t yet done there when the doors of the Great Hall swung open, revealing the members of the Order. Their arrival further sets a ripple among the unexpecting students, though from the looks of Harry’s friends, it seems that they were the ones to aid them.

His gaze shifts to watch as one by one, they line up in a defensive pose behind Harry. He Recognizing a few familiar faces like the Weasleys, Hermione, Lovegood, Professor Lupin, Fleaur from Beauxbatons, and even some members of the Ministry. 

“How dare you stand where he stood.“ Harry shouts. “Tell them the truth of that night’”

Theodore’s breath catches in his throat. The air becomes suffocating at the reminder of those times, days that still hunt him and the others. He takes slow inhales and exhales to calm himself, knowing that now is not the right time and place.

Snape with his eyes like shards of ice, faced Harry Potter. Theodore watches as he moves as if to retrieve his wand, but before he can do so, McGonagall comes forward and sends a blast in Snape’s direction. Snape pivots and barely rebounds the spell in defence,

Chaos ensues as the rest of the staff leaps forward with their wands out. A short but intense exchange erupted in the middle of the room, making the students shuffle to the side to avoid being hit by the spells and curses that flashed through the air like crackling lightning.

Snape, ever the formidable wizard despite his attitude, held his ground with a stoic determination. But Theo couldn’t help but notice how his old professor merely deflected the curses thrown upon him and never cast his own. It piqued his curiosity knowing that he was a master of the dark arts, prominent in the way lectures were replaced by dark arts in his headship.

In the end, Snape yielded, a moment that sent shockwaves to many. 

“A coward, that man.” Professor McGonagall proclaims, before turning to Harry. “Mr. Potter, do you mind telling me what you’re doing here, which, I trust you realise, is an act of complete lunacy?”

Harry replies by simply telling her that he is a Gryffindor which comes to no surprise to the woman. McGonagall then turns to the rest of the students, calling them to settle down after the whole debacle. 

Just then, Harry suddenly winces, pressing his palms to his temple, before a rumble rings throughout the Hall. A dark cloud swarming in the Enchanted Ceiling, imminent that the beginning of the war will begin any time now. It is the screams and face of pain that confirms it.

A familiar voice to Theodore sounds off in a deathly whisper in his head. And by the looks of everyone, it was the same for them.

“I know that many of you want to fight. Some of you may even think this is wise. But this is folly. Give me Harry Potter. Do this and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded.“

With that, the whispers recede followed by the dark clouds evaporating into thin air. For a moment, silence ensues. Pansy’s screechy voice scratches in his right ear from where she stands beside him. 

“Harry’s right there! Somebody grab him!” Yet nobody gives her a second thought. Everyone’s attention shifts instead to Filch who loudly enters through the Hall, screaming that everyone’s out of bed. The man made Theo chuckle inwardly, making a tiny smirk form on his lips.

“They are supposed to be out of bed, you blithering idiot!” McGonagall tells him off. “Oh right, sorry.”

“Now, as you’re already here, I’d like you to lead the rest of Slytherin House from the Hall to the dungeons.” She adds on before Filch can leave.

Theodore’s thoughts returned, as they always did in the past months, to the one question that haunts the very corners of his mind: Where are you? In this whole happening, his eyes had been moving back and forth towards the group that stood near the large double doors. Trying to catch a glimpse of you in between the still figures. But as you had tortured him, you were still nowhere to be seen and he began to question if you had truly disappeared and left him questions unanswered. 

As they were being ushered out of the Hall, he, like many others, was vacillating between insisting upon fighting for Hogwarts or to keep their loyalty to their Slytherin roots. But really, the prevailing choice for him is neither of those. He desperately wants to run towards Hermione and just ask her of your whereabouts.

But before he could approach a decision, Hermione made it for him. He jolts when a hand grasps his forearm, taking him by surprise. 

“Nott.” Hermione begins before he cuts her off. “Where is she?”

It must’ve come off louder than he intended to from the way she jumped and the stares from the clutter of students from all directions. But he couldn’t care less, and it seemed that the girl in front of him had just now remembered when he didn't offer an apology.

“Well, it’s nice to see you’re not much different.” She sarcastically says. “Granger. Hermione. I frankly don’t have the time for this and I doubt that you do too, so I beg you to answer me now.”

Theodore’s impatience taking over him, he could not endure another moment without having you within his sight. It was a bit of an uncharacteristic burst of urgency for him and he knew it, but you were different. You, who holds all of his vulnerable entirety in your hands. 

“She’s somewhere in the castle, searching for one of the remaining Horcruxes in the castle,” Hermione explains. “Y/N had suggested that we split and she began the search while we had to ward off Snape. We will be doing the same thing now, so if you have any idea of Ravenclaw’s lost diadem location, then that’s where you’ll find her.”

With a simple nod and a meek expression of gratitude, he runs off to a place where he begs must hold such a priceless object. It would be somewhere close by but nowhere that it can be easily found.

In the corner of his eyes, Theo caught a glimpse of Harry sprinting towards a distant hallway before rounding a corner. Knowing that by now he must have an idea of where it is, Theo makes a sprint for it. He cautiously peers around the hallway where he sees a door materialising in front of Harry.

Before he can approach Harry to accompany him inside the Room of Requirement, he sees the unmistakable form of his two friends, Draco and Blaise, along with Goyle, discreetly following Harry inside. He muttered frustrated curses under his breath, knowing that those three would make trouble.

He enters through the door, where he makes a dash along the stockpile of objects that seemingly never seems to lessen with every step he takes. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, but still a lingering tension persisted, as he saw Harry’s figure running.

“Potter!” He calls out to the boy, casting aside any lingering apprehension he once held for the boy. “Did you find it?”

Harry halts in his run, taking a moment to catch his breath before responding to Theo. In truth, he wasn’t surprised that Theo was here with him, but rather, more so that you weren’t the object of his first question to him.

“I think so, the sound keeps getting louder.” He answers. 

“It should be somewhere near now.” He continues. “Let’s go then.”

Theo quietly takes his place beside Harry as they weave their way through the maze of ancient objects and furniture. They continue until Harry stops, causing Theo to freeze in his step. 

There you stood, a presence that seemed to penetrate his very being. The only person who plagued his thoughts, you had woven yourself into every conscious moment and every corner of his mind. 

Now that you were a mere five steps away from him, he couldn’t conjure the nerve to move forward, feeling himself paralyzed.

Was it the fear that held him back? The nagging thought that this might be just another dream of his? He couldn’t grapple at an answer, but by the length of your hair that now sits at your shoulders, he would like to believe that maybe this was indeed you. This was you, and before he realised it, he was all but standing still.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as you nearly lose your footing, feeling a heavy weight press to your back. The sensation of those familiar long arms enveloping you in a tight embrace sent your heart racing, the shock of it sending a rush of emotions through you.

For a fleeting moment, it felt that your body had become one with the ground, immobilised by the torrent of emotions surging through you. But then when the realisation finally sinks into you, the tension that seemed to course through you suddenly dissolves and you willingly surrender yourself to the warmth of his embrace.

You turn, your hands tracing a graceful path across his back. It had been far too long, and you couldn’t imagine being apart from him for such an extended period ever again.

The background fades into obscurity. Harry was forgotten, a distant blur that moved with the others. Your eyes filled with relief and that soft, affectionate expression that he adored. All he could see was you, the person he had yearned for and feared losing in the world you both live in.

Theo’s defences crumbled, and he finally surrendered to the weight of his emotions. He couldn’t find a part of him that would care if others saw him right now. Tears flowed freely down his flushed cheeks, like a torrential downpour.

“I’m here. Theo, I’m back with you.” Your arms held him, gently rocking him as you tried to soothe his nerves. 

“Never leave me alone again.” He choked on the words, his voice raw and rugged with pain. “I beg you.”

“I won’t be going anywhere, I promise. I’m sorry for having to leave so suddenly.” You whispered, your voice filled with genuine remorse. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of movement behind some cabinets— a flash of white. 

“But we’ll have to talk later.” You continued, turning your focus back to Theo. “We need to get rid of this Horcrux.”

“Horcrux?” He asks, pulling back from the crook of your neck. “Hermione mentioned that when I asked about you.”

“It’s one of the many things that Voldemort has done to ensure his immortality.” You explained, your tone carrying a sense of urgency. “But if we get rid of it, we’re one step closer to finally banishing him for good.”

He opens his mouth to say something but before he can, he is interrupted by Draco, with Blaise and Goyle, stepping into view. “Well, well, what brings you here, Potter? And Theo, what are you doing with them?”

Your gaze shifts back at Harry who had only realised that you had some other company. “I could ask you the same.” You retort.

Theo, however, pays his friend no mind. Instead, he leans to your ear, his voice a hushed whisper. “We should get that thing while Draco is still preoccupied with Harry.”

You could make a run for it; it seemed that Draco didn’t care for your purpose inside the room. Rather busy demanding your friend for his wand back, the very one you had accidentally brought back with you from the Malfoy Manor.

“- its allegiance is to me now. If you want it, you’ll have to win it back. Perhaps even kill me…” You hear Harry proclaim. You silently curse your friend for his recklessness, tired of his cavalier attitude with his life simply because he’s braved the risk of death before. You kept your eyes trained on Draco, knowing that despite his hesitation before, he might act on it now.

His wand hand twitches.

Brow conflicted.

Uneasy eyes settling somewhere behind you. You look behind to see a silhouette of a girl with a wand pointed in your direction, before you can see who it is, a ball of scarlet light emerges and briefly lights up her face and hits Draco’s hand.

“Avada Kedavra!” You were pulled back by Theo, landing on the ground with his body catching the fall. You watch as the spell ricochets and sends the diadem, which was sitting peacefully in its encasement on the table, flying away.

You spring to your feet, a burst of adrenaline propelling you forward to catch the item before it vanishes on you in this labyrinth. Your hand barely grazed the edge of the jewelled headband and with a quick nod to Harry and Hermione a nod to escape this room. Meanwhile, you’re confused as to where Ron had disappeared off to.

The red-head gives you your answer when he comes running from somewhere followed by a  twisting serpent made of scarlet flames. “Run! Goyle’s set the bloody place on fire!”

With your right hand clutching the crown, you secure a firm grip on Theo’s hand, which rests lightly on your waist. The five of you dash through the towering heaps of debris that would likely be a pile of smouldering ashes and soot. A quick glance behind you reveals flames that draw closer, mutating into different forms: serpents, dragons, and the like, each following you so closely that sweat beads form on the nape of your neck.

“Keep running!” Harry shouts when Hermione sees Draco scaling a mountain of furniture. You were still running for your life when suddenly Harry spots a stack of broomsticks. TO which you all took one and began to speed across the room.

The flames explode behind you, You and Theo, who decided to share, barely elude the snap of its jaw. 

“Wait! What about Malfoy and Blaise!” Harry screams at the rest of you, your head turns to look back at the two who are barely hanging on as the flames continue to destroy the room. It was only a matter of time before it reached them and they would have nowhere to go.

“You grab them!” Theo replied, his voice scratchy and painful from the amount of smoke you’ve inhaled. 

“Are you serious? He’s joking right?” Ron asks Hermione, to which you instead reply. “No, he’s not! Go get them!”

Harry and Ron sweeps down, swiftly reaching out to grasp Draco and Blaise’s outstretched hands. While you, Theo, and Hermione went ahead as a giant beam of light appeared in the distance, a radiating beacon. It’s Hermione, hovering on her broom with her wand raised.

Then, with Harry and Ron in tow, you all fly headlong towards Hermione’s beacon. And in an instant, your sight dissolved into a blinding whiteness.

Your eyes flutter open, your senses returning to you in a hazy rush. You felt someone shaking you furiously, and in your disoriented state, you instinctively pushed them away. But arms instead wrapped around you and pulled you into a warm chest.

“You’re fine!” The person evidently shakes in relief, before you feel a gentle bush of lips against your temple.

Blinking away the remnants of confusion, you look up to see Theo’s striking blue eyes already intently focused on you., striking a shiver across your spine “You couldn’t get rid of me that easily.” You joked weakly, a tiny smile on your face.

Theo’s expression softened, and he tightened his hold on you as if he was afraid that you might disappear again. “I thought I lost you there,” He tells you, voice barely above a whisper. “When I saw you just lying there, unmoving… I was utterly terrified.”

You reach up and gently cup his cheek, wiping away the dark ash that sullied it with your thumb. “Like I said, love, I’m not going anywhere,” Your voice filled with reassurance, and you sit properly to kiss him softly, sealing your promise in that tender moment. 

But as with everything else, it was interrupted by an awkward cough behind you. 

“You guys done there? We still have some things to do?” Ron retorts. To which Hermione slaps him in the chest.

You laugh and hum in tease. “Well, actually I think we could do with some more snogging here.” Ron merely groans. “No, please. I don’t wanna see that.”

The both of you stand from where you sit, your hands still entwined, hearts racing. “Where’s Draco and Blaise, by the way?” You ask Theo. “They ran off somewhere.”

As they all stepped out of the corridor, they caught you up on what happened while you were unconscious. Harry had stabbed the diadem with a basilisk fang which Ron and Hermione retrieved from the Chamber and threw it back towards the Room of Requirement where it blew up into flames.

You look at Harry who was staring into the distance, his face still bearing the trace of the agony he must’ve endured when he stabbed the diadem.

“It’s the snake. She’s the last one. The last Horcrux.” Harry speaks up. 

“Where do you think he’ll take it?” Theo asks from beside you. “Somewhere safe. He’ll be keeping her close to him.”

“You should go ahead, Theo and I will stay here to help with the others.” You tell your friends, while Harry tries to locate Voldemort with his mind. 

“I know where he is.” He finally comes back. “Let’s go.”

“The three of you keep safe alright?” You remind them as you all run towards the battlefield, where many of your friends stand fighting. They nod, promising you that they will and in return make you and Theo swear you’ll be careful.

In the courtyard, where students and staff trade spells with the Death Eaters that littered across the school grounds, you quickly join them, making sure that you are in sight of the other. The unspoken promise to do so served as a beacon of comfort amidst the chaos you were faced with.

From the upper balcony, your eyes scanned the battlefield, assessing the danger that lurked when you saw a Death Eater poised to send a curse to Luna from behind. Without a second thought, you unleashed a forceful flick of your wand, sending a powerful spell toward the Death Eater which sent him tumbling through the air and straight to the waters beyond the castle.

Luna, whose signature dream-like demeanour was replaced by an expression of gratitude, turns and locks eyes with you. She offered you one of her wide smiles, “Thanks! Y/n, glad to see you back here!”

Your heart swelled with warmth for your friend. “Don’t mention it, happy to see you also, Luna.” You quickly reply before returning to battle when you are hit by a deafening blast straight on the chest. You were raised to the air before you crashed into the floor below.

Theodore Nott fought valiantly in the courtyard, proving to the others that the dark mark that covered his right arm bore no significance to the man. His wand moved in a blur of motion in the onslaught of Death Eater. His thoughts were empty save for the ever-present worry that plagued him for your safety.

From his vantage point on the ground level, he does a quick scan of the courtyard, his heart pounding in his chest. The grisly sight of students and friends, along with the staff all stood their ground against the dark forces that dared penetrate their home. It filled him with a mixture of pride and fear. 

And then, his eyes flicked onto a scene that made his heart skip a beat. From the upper balcony, he sees you with your wand in hand and your expression resolute as you defend Luna, a dear friend of yours. It filled him with a warm emotion at the sight of your strong determination to protect her.

But then in a blink of an eye, disaster struck. A blast struck you square in the chest, lifting you off your feet in shock and sending you crashing down. Theo’s heart which skipped a beat earlier had now wholly stopped, his blood turning to ice as he watched in horror.

With everything in him, he surges forward through the chaos to catch you before you fall down. But as he was still many steps away from you, you dropped full force into the stone ground. Panic fueled his every step as he ran towards your motionless form now with even more speed than he ever thought a human possibly could.

He feels his gut twinge at the bloody sight, a sickly feeling developing in the deep recesses of his body, the wand heavy in his hands then. His lips bore no sound as tried to call your name, his heart was twisted in his throat. 

He knelt beside you, pulling you into his lap and checking you for your injuries. To his relief, your breathing was still steady for what had just happened to you and you didn’t seem to take any damage to the head, Still, he carried your disoriented body in his arms bridal style.

As he began to stand, his eyes went back to where you had previously been, searching for the source of the blast that struck you down. And then, with a shock that sent chills down his spine, he sees a familiar old face.

His father.

He sets you down somewhere safe inside the castle, without taking his sight away from his father. By the time he returns back to where you both were, his father is now advancing towards him with a sinister, triumphant grin on his face. It was a face that had been both a source of fear and disappointment throughout his life. 

The face that caused his mother’s death.

“Father,” Theodore muttered, his voice laced with a blend of anger, disbelief, and a profound sense of betrayal. That despite all he’s done for him, his father still stood there with not an ounce of recognition that he was faced with his son. It was as if he had truly sunk to the depths of his loyalty to Voldemort and there was no other obligation for him except for his unwavering loyalty.

Their eyes were locked in a moment of tense, silent confrontation. He knew that this battle was only physical but also a battle of his loyalties. He had to protect you, he had to stand against his father, and he had to make a choice that would define the course of his life.

With the courtyard around them paying no specific attention to the father and son, it was only fair to say that everything else faded into the background for them too. Father and son. Standing on opposing sides, driven by their own convictions and beliefs, the younger no longer waited.

He was no, father, not in the true sense of the word. He was merely a shadow of a man, a heartless figure who stood there—grinning as if he had just claimed the grand prize in this twisted lottery. 

In that moment, he had not only attacked the one person who held his son’s heart after he took away the other one but he had also torn away the last remaining fragments of the bond that tied the two of them.

His father had no time to react when Theodore raised his wand in a swift manner, hurling him violently to the cold, unforgiving wall across the castle. He rained down curses after cruses upon his father’s assailable body, each blow driven by a potent combination of anger and a fierce desire to defend.

“Stay” He seethed, punctuating his rage with a curse. “Away” Another spell. “From” The onslaught of his attack never ceased despite the dawn that slowly began to fade into view. “Her!” Each word carried the weight of an entire lifetime’s amount of hurt as Theo relentlessly battered his father until he was left into nothing but a fraction of what he used to be.

His eyes are glazed and unfocused as he continues this torture until he comes to a grip on reality when strong arms pull him away. It takes him a moment to realise that the battle has ceased. 

The two people behind him dragged him away, from his father's still body. But still, his eyes remained locked onto him, unable to shift it away. The cold fire in him terrified the others that they had passed. They whispered that nothing could compare to the kind of fury and destruction that he was sure to rain upon his enemies.

“Wake up, Y/N. Please.” Theo’s voice quivered, his words trembling on the precipice of his emotions. His eyes, blurred by the veil of his tears, bore a weight drastically different than it did only hours ago.

Eyes that failed to veil the inner turmoil that plagued him. The entire battle against Voldemort had taken its toll on both of them, leaving them stranded from each other for nearly half a year, but seeing you this way…

He watched from a chair beside you as the healers worked diligently, silently begging them to look at you again, despite numerous assurances that you are now stable. His fingers unconsciously flexed at his sides, a manifestation of the anxiety that controls him. 

The fear of losing you, the anger towards his father, the overwhelming relief that you are alive– it all left him in a state of disconcerting.

As he waits for you to wake, he couldn’t help but reminisce on all that the both of you had been through. The trials, the secrets, the moments of love and laughter everywhere and anywhere. You were not just some person he loved; you were his best friend, his reason.

His eyes welled up with tears, and he wiped them away hastily. He needs to be strong for both of you, just as you will in your state of unconsciousness. He knew that your love had emerged stronger than ever in this crucible of war. So he made a silent promise to himself that he would do whatever it takes to take you away from any danger that dares creep upon you.

Finally, as if an eternity had passed, your voice broke through the silence. He jumps up in shock at the sound. You had slowly begun to stir in your makeshift bed in the Great Hall, your eyelids fluttering as you emerged from the depths of unconsciousness. The world felt hazy at first. But as your senses gradually returned, you became aware of the hustle and bustle of the people around you and you tried to call attention.

Theo sees that you were trying to say something but from the scratchy tone that instead came out, you were in need of some water so he ran to the nearest jug he found and helped you sit up so you could properly drink.

Then, as your vision cleared, you saw Theo sitting by your bedside and that he was the one that quenched the dryness that lined your throat., his eyes locked onto hers with a mixture of relief and worry.

His face broke into a gentle smile as he saw you recognize him. “Y/N” He whispered, his voice cracking as he began to cry once more. “You’re awake, you’re back. Thank Merlin!”

You manage a weak smile in return, your throat still dry and your body aching from the attack on you. You tried to speak, but your voice came out raspy. “Theo.”

Theo reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from the side of your face, his touch gentle as ever. “You’re going to be okay.” He says, but it was more like he was also trying to convince himself. “You had me worried there for a while. I am this close to tying you up in a chair because you have caused me nothing but stress lately.”

As the both of you lay on the bed after you guilted him into laying beside you, your memories of the battle and the moments leading up to your injury slowly came back. You remembered Luna, the chaos, and the deafening blast that nearly took you away. But most of all, you remember the face of the person who did this to you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to hold his hand, your fingers entwined in a silent, unspoken connection. “You must have been like a hero back there, then?” You gently try to ask him.

“More like a monster.” He mutters, unable to bring his eyes to you. The truth is he felt horrible after he finally calmed down. He was disgusted with himself and how he acted. He let his rage take control and acted like a monster. “What do you mean?”

“I was just like him, leaving him unable to fight back like he did to Mom and I back then. I just fired curses and curses at him. It was like a veil had draped over me and all I wanted was to protect you and destroy anything and anyone that dared harm you. ” 

You call his name. But he doesn’t respond and continues to stare off into the distance with a glazed-over expression. You reach out to cup his cheeks to pull his gaze towards you. “Theodore, look at me.”

He hums, now staring at you but still he can’t hide the tumultuous emotions that were a storm inside him. “You are not like your father, Theo.” You said softly. “Just from what you told me, you are a gazillion ways different from him. You didn’t cower behind the fear he caused you. Instead, you faced him head on, and defended not only me but also your mother from his cruelty.”

Theo looks at you, his eyes searching yours for affirmation. “How?” He meekly asks. 

“You took away the power that he boasts to have over you. '' You replied. Tone unwavering. “You showed him that you will never, ever, become anything like he is."

Your words hung in the air, a testament to Theo’s strength. At that moment, he realised that he had broken free from the shadows of his father’s influence and that he had chosen a different path. A path that is defined by love, courage, and a refusal to be controlled by his fear.

“I’m here because of you. I strived each day so that I could go back to you.” You whispered, your gaze never leaving Theo’s. “And I'm not going anywhere.”

Theo’s eyes shimmered with tears as he leaned in to gently kiss your forehead. “I love you.” He murmured, “I am in love with you, physically, rhetorically, every -ly.”

You laugh at his cheekiness, “I love you too.” You close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to drown in the wave of his love that washed over you. Giving his hands a squeeze as you raise them to lay a kiss upon the back of his hand.

In that Great Hall, amidst the scars of battle and the uncertainty of the future, they had found something precious in the very same place where two 11-year-old kids once locked eyes and found a connection.

masterlist

[silaslich]

The countless stars we’re sleeping under

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Chapter One - read here

Warnings: smut, 18+ only, pussy eating, handjob, p in v sex, established relationship, friends to lovers, childhood friends, jealous Arthur, injury detail, self harm references

Length: 6k

A continuation from The Setting Sun Through Open Windows - You and Arthur have crossed the line in which there’s no return. His absence leaves you feeling empty, but he’s soon back to rectify.

There’s an action and a consequence. Always. Thats a rule. If you stick your fingers into the open flame of a fire you’ll get burned. The action of moving your fingers into the angry orange glow and the consequence of retracting a blistered-bubbly mess of flesh.

Something doesn’t come from nothing. There’s a give and a take. Happiness isn’t something that is made for everyone. There are people who never find it; yet there are others who find happiness in the mundane- in the way the sun rises over the mountain tops and the way the stream sounds in the quiet of night. There are those who walk through life without seeing the world for what it really is, which is beautiful. Beautiful in the way the tall grass sways with the breeze and in the way the wild flowers bloom through the first crisp-cold days where winter turns to spring. Beautiful in the way the wolves howl to each other through the trees and the way the air feels as it splits across your face when you race the wind on horseback.

For so many years you had watched those around you find that happiness while deep down you thought it wasn’t something made for you. So long spent dreaming and wondering ‘what if?’. You’d spent so much time sitting at the edge of camp and looking out into the horizon, wondering where his freedom had taken him to now. He’d leave for days or weeks on end without so much as a goodbye. Then he’d waltz back into camp as if nothing had happened, expecting you to act as though he hadn’t even been gone. His peace offerings of venison steaks and clips of money were never enough to excuse his long absences in your eyes. Yet the others were always satisfied.

He calls your name but you ignore it. He doesn’t realise that it’s purposeful at first, thinking you simply can’t hear him over the roaring campfire and the loud drunken chatter of the others. Everyone had jumped up to welcome him home, this time it had been two weeks. Next time it might be more. You hadn’t shared the sentiment that everyone else had. Instead shielding yourself from his eyes behind the medicine cart where your bedroll is, his eyes find you almost immediately. You dart off as soon as you realise he’s seen you, now he knows you’re avoiding him. He shrugs off Miss Grimshaw and shoulders Micah out of the way to follow you. He calls your name again and this time he knows you’ve heard him. He sees it in the way your shoulders stiffen. “Hey wait right there” he says, trying to sound stern. Arthur stops dead as you whirl around to face him, your expression tight and eyes narrowed. “I’m headed to the river” your voice is clipped and you’re quick to gather what you’ll need to wash up. He’s quick to open his mouth to speak but you manage words before he does. “I don’t want company”.

~

You’re alone with your thoughts once again. Letting your mind reel and your heart ache.

Iris’ footsteps vibrate through your entire body, you feel so hollow.

The sun is lowering on the horizon and the earth is bathed in a honey-amber glow. You have to squint as you ride on, knowing you aren’t that far from the river now. There had been some rain this morning and you can smell the damp soil as it’s kicked up beneath Iris’ hooves. She tosses her head to rid the flies and you lean forward to pat her neck. “I know girl” you soothe, mutual in her feeling of hatred towards the bugs as they buzz in her ears.

Iris trots away as soon as her bridle and saddle are off. You smile as you watch her go. She always stays close when you graze her loose and you’re glad that you can do such a thing without worrying you’ll never see her again. The mare blows air through her nostrils as she finds a richer patch of grass nearby, you watch her for a short while as you admire her coat and how much condition she’s kept through the winter- you try your best to keep her as fit and healthy as possible.

After a long minute of watching the little blue roan mare forage through the shrubs you return to the more important task. Getting clean. It’s one of the nicer things about where the gang is currently camped. It’s barely a stones throw away from a fresh river that runs directly from up North. Abundant with fish and a nice way to cool off after a long hot day. It’s ideal. It’s one of those little mundane things that makes the side of your mouth pull up just slightly. Only slightly, though. It beats riding into town to pay for a bath, it’s a hassle and it’s overpriced. You’ve always preferred it out in the wilds.

In the short time since the storm where Arthur and yourself finally crossed that line he’s tried to give you what you were asking for. He’d booked hotel rooms for the two of you and bought you hot meals at the saloon. He’d bring you into town to conduct “business” and he’d make you feel like there was some normality in your life. If you could call it that. At the end of the day you’d still ride back to camp. To some wet-earthed bedroll out in the sticks. Back to the reality that you sleep under a wagon when it rains and that there is no safety of four walls and a roof. There’s only safety in numbers out here.

Perhaps it’s selfish. To have exactly what you’d been dreaming of and still not be satisfied. Arthur had finally admitted that he felt the same, you should be ecstatic- but it comes with a price. You will never be able to change who or what he is. Part of you would never want to, but the other part of you wishes that he would leave all of this behind and realise what he has right in front of him. Hosea has been saying it for years. After Eliza and Isaac and after Mary, you thought that Arthur’s eyes might have been opened. At one point he ran to Mary. You lost him for real. He finally plucked up the courage to fight for what he wanted, only this time it was her father that made him return to the gang. He wasn’t good enough for his Mary.

Your clothes are folded neatly on top of one another and you’re quick to retreat to the cold encompass of the water. It envelopes you quickly and it steals your breath. Despite how hot and muggy the air is the water still manages to send goosebumps rippling across your skin. You’re deep enough that you can stand but only as deep so that the water comes to your shoulders. A heavy sigh escapes your lips. It’s relaxing. You want to let everything worrying you wash away with the currents of the river. There’s no point worrying about Arthur or worrying about what this means for your relationship with him. You love him dearly, but you fear that this crossed line might ruin what came before. It was always angering to you that he could leave and come back whenever he felt like it. At the drop of a hat he could be gone for days and then return like nothing happened. It always upset you. Now? Now it feels personal. It feels like despite his loyalty to Dutch, Arthur sees nothing else worth sticking around here for. He goes away and stays away, but it’s okay because he brings food and money back with him. You’ve never understood it. Maybe you never will.

By the pebbled shore you’d left your soap bar within reach. You paddle over to retrieve it having had long enough to soak your woes and stew in your pity, you don’t want to stay out too late and risk riding home in the dark. With your soap in hand you wade back out into the deeper water and roll the bar against your skin. It lathers quickly and you deftly rub the bubbles into your shoulders and the nots of muscle at the base of your neck. You sigh loudly, it feels like heaven. It’s a nice contrast to your day spent idle inside of camp. Wondering and worrying. You submerge your head under the water completely and breach the water again, it runs down your face and the coldness takes your breath away again. From where you’re standing you take a risk and throw the soap to get it to land on shore, unsurprisingly, you miss.

“For Christ’s sake” it’s hissed through your teeth. So much for melting away your worries and your annoyances. You’d never be able to wash Arthur away, not matter how hard you tried. You move to step closer toward shore when something firm but fleshy touches your foot. You jump instinctively and look down to try and see through the waters surface. It’s useless. You try to speed up in your retreat back to shore but this time something grabs you entirely. A shriek leaves your throat as you’re pulled under, bubbles breach the surface and the current of the river continues in its steady pace.

Barely a second later your body erupts from beneath the water. You cough and panic as you try to rip yourself away from whatever has still got ahold of you. The noises escaping your throat don’t register to you. You call for Iris and your pure terror makes you wail like a child. Everything quickly falls away however when the sound of laughter meets your ears. Your body stiffens and once your brain puts the pieces together you’re quick to remember what Arthur’s hands feel like gripping your naked waist. You gasp and spin to face him. He’s breathless and his chest heaves. You feel the warmth of his breath from how close his face is to yours. His grip doesn’t let up, instead he pulls you closer and holds you firmer. One large palm flattens over the curve of your ass and the other stays rooted to your waist. He looks down at you with lidded eyes, his head quickly tilts in confusion as he reads the expression on your face.

You push him away. Hard. The water splashes and you create space between the two of you. Despite the softness in his eyes you can’t help the bitter taste in your mouth. There’s wet on your lashes but you know it’s not from the water around you. It’s everything that you’ve wanted to say for the past two weeks. It’s everything that you’ve been waiting to tell him. You’re afraid the lump in your throat will make this impossible. “You’re a horrid man Arthur” you turn yourself away from him, hiding your shame, you press your face into your hands. The warmth that spreads itself across your back makes your chest ache. Arthur’s arms cross over your hips and his chin settles against your shoulder, he pulls you close again. You feel him sigh against your spine. “M’sorry for scarin’ ya” his voice is soft. You want so badly to give in. To forgive him like you always do. You try to tell yourself he’s unaware. He wouldn’t keep doing this if he knew how it made you feel- you’re scared to tell him the truth. Maybe you’ve read too much into this. Maybe he doesn’t see this thing between the two of you as serious at all. Let alone entertain the idea that you’re mad that he’s been gone. Your head is spinning. You can’t keep this up.

It’s quick in a manor that takes Arthur off guard. His hands move as your body does, guiding you as you turn in his arms. His lips are fresh against yours. Wet from the river. You taste the tobacco on his tongue as it glides roughly against your bottom lip, he’s desperate. His grip is bruising. His fingers dip into the flesh of your waist and you gasp against his lips, leaving more room for his tongue to explore. You moan and guide your hand up his shoulder blade and to the back of his head, tugging at the soaking wet strands that try desperately to stick to his head. Your other hand is beneath the waters surface, raking your nails down his stomach and through the wiry hair of his snail trail as it leads to his pubic hair. He hisses into the kiss but you don’t let him retreat.

His cock starts to stiffen in your hand. Pressed tightly between your bodies. He kisses you with anew fervour. It zips up your spine like electricity. You’re panting against his mouth and he the same with yours. The kiss melts into too much teeth and tongue, a mess of desperation and need. Arthur cups the side of your face with one hand and tilts your head until your eyes meet his, he speaks against your lips “I missed you” the words are enunciated clearly- he means them. The lump returns to your throat. Your eyes search his, they’re greener than you remember, suddenly- you can’t look at him.

You press your lips to his once again, hooking your elbow around the back of his neck and pulling him closer. All the while jerking his cock quicker in your hand, you need this as much as he does, you want to remind him why he comes back. Arthur makes a noise at the back of his throat and breaks off the kiss, most likely to speak, but you don’t want to listen. His hands grip you tight and your lips move from his mouth to his jaw and then to his neck. You press kisses all the while as you move, soon sinking your teeth into the flesh of his throat where his beard begins to thin out. He moans- “shit”. His hand cups your throat and pulls you away from him, once again forcing you to meet his eyes. You try not to, you don’t want to, but you can’t deny him. His eyes are soft again, in that understanding way that still knocks you off kilter. He leans forward to kiss your forehead. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere, alright? Let’s slow down” his voice rasps as he speaks, you can smell the cigar on his breath. You nod silently, he sees straight through you. He sees straight through the difference in desperation and fear- the fear he won’t come back next time.

Arthur takes the advantage that your arms are still looped tightly around his neck. He bends slightly and grips the backs of your thighs in each of his hands, hoisting you up in his arms. You squeeze him tighter, hoping he doesn’t drop you. He starts to walk toward the shore, taking long-strong steps and carrying you with little effort. You press your face into the side of his neck, despite the rivers interference, he stills smells like himself. Like ginseng and gunpowder. Like the damp earth after heavy rain in the best way possible. Like he’s just been plucked from the soil. As much a force of nature as any thunderstorm or blizzard.

The grass isn’t that soft against your spine. Yet, beneath Arthur, you can’t find the room to care. Your head is pillowed on your folded clothes and Arthur is kissing your throat and descending down to the supple skin between your breasts. He pays each of them equal attention on his way, he kisses each nipple and sucks them softly into his mouth. Your spine arches and he stills you with a flat palm to your stomach, urging you to be patient. Your hands find his hair, fisting the strands between your fingers. His hair looks almost black against your skin, darkened by the river. “Arthur” you whine, pressing your hips up into him, the angle means you just barely catch your hips to his- there’s a dark sound from his chest. Then there’s a hand pressed to your throat. Just enough to let you know who’s leading this. “So damn impatient” he’s trying to berate you but you fear he’s only fuelling the fire.

You close your eyes. Needing to focus on Arthur’s lips. On his fingertips. On everything that’s he’s doing. Every feather-light touch. You sigh “I need you inside me Arthur” it’s a plea at best. An awful whiney noise that surprises you as much as it does Arthur. He laughs. It tickles your stomach where his beard scratches the skin. He presses a kiss to the skin there. There’s the quick-flashing sting of teeth and you jump. “Patience” he mutters. Even slower than before, Arthur continues his downward path. All you can do is press your head back against your makeshift pillow, looking up at the sky as it blurs into a canvas of pale violet and burnt orange. There’s a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and then to the other. Your fingers tighten in his hair. He laughs again. Ever so faintly - Arthur presses his lips to the lips of your cunt. It’s barely a relief. You want to cant your hips into his face, you’re desperate to reverse the roles and put him on his back- then you could sit your cunt onto his mouth just the way you like.

Just as your mind wanders, Arthur presses his tongue inside of you. It’s everything you’ve been needing. The way his hands grip you, your legs over his shoulders with his lips buried in your pussy. Patience isn’t something you want to focus on right now.

Right now you want to cum on Arthur’s tongue and then make him do the same. You want to release everything in the best way you’ve learnt to. With Arthur. He’s broken you for any other man. He’d been your first and you know that deep down he’ll be your last. He knows you inside and out. You try to separate the way that your brain understands why Arthur is so good at this. You don’t want to think about it too much. In the moment, none of it matters.

“Oh god Arthur”. You’re panting. Watching your own breasts swell with every heavy intake of breath as you look down at Arthur. Seeing where his face is buried so close to you, lapping you up like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. His fingers grip the flesh of your thighs, not allowing you to move away from him- not that you’d ever want to. You tug at his hair, intentionally pulling him closer while simultaneously pushing your hips into the wait of his mouth. You feel him smile against your cunt. He pulls back barely an inch to sink his teeth into the skin of your thigh. “You are somethin’ else” his teeth sting and his smile practically burns your skin from how sharp it is. Your head sags backwards into your folded clothes, needing his mouth back on you again, you feel cold without it. “Please Arthur” your voice draws out, trying your best to gain his pity. Arthur has never been a pitying man.

Arthur hums and meets your eyes. There’s the same softness in them still. He’s always been kind to you, even through the hard times like when he lost Eliza and Isaac and when Mary rejected him. Those times had hollowed him out. They’d made a mean man of him. It led on for months. He became even more reclusive and he blamed himself for all of it. You gave him space. He didn’t seek you out. On a few occasions when he stayed at camp for more than five minutes you’d catch him by the fire, watching as he held his fingers over the crackling flames without flinching. He’d pull them out as soon as you were about to jump in and intervene. Smelling his burning flesh. You’d lie and say that you don’t understand, but you do. He’d wanted to feel something. To dull the ache in his chest. To feel something other the despair and loneliness. You and Arthur had both felt so alone for so long despite the fact you were both surrounded by so many people.

There’s a strangled sound in your throat when Arthur runs his tongue between your folds, pressing a single finger to your entrance at the same time. You’re so wet. Completely soaked for him. There’s no resistance to him whatsoever. You’re so pliable in his hands. Moulded however he sees fit. “It feels so good” you huff, rolling your eyes. Arthur adds another finger. His tongue matches the languid movement of his wrist. “Such a good girl for me” his words are smothered in your pussy as he pumps his fingers inside of you with a practiced cruelty. He’s going so slowly, knowing it’ll break you in the long run. You bite your tongue and Arthur notices. His sharp green eyes flit upwards, watching as your face crumples in pleasure, he smiles against you. The way he curls his fingers inside of you pulls your eyes to his, you watch him watch you, maintaining eye contact as Arthur makes you cum on his tongue. His tongue laps you up. The noises are filthy, a combination of your wetness and Arthur’s moans mixing with the struggle of your own breathing as you gasp for air.

He rides it out with you. His lips and tongue not ceasing until your orgasm fully subsides. He holds your hips in place when it becomes too much for you. It’s amusable in the way you try to crawl away from him. To try and relieve the pressure of his mouth as his endeavour enters the region of becoming too much. Tears well in your eyes from the overstimulation. There comes a limit to Arthur’s cruelty. When it comes to you that is. No sooner than you’re crying his name for real does he remove the pressure. He’s quick to press a kiss to your thigh once more. Crawling his way back up until he’s kissing the tears from your cheeks. Letting his tongue curl against yours so you can taste yourself. It’s something vulgar. Something you’re sure you’re supposed to find repulsive. But you don’t. Not when you’re with Arthur. It’s the most seen you’ve ever felt. To discover these things with him. Things you know even the other girls in camp would blush at. That would be saying something.

You hold his face in your hands. Feeling the way his beard prickles your palms. He kisses you again and again until you’re breathless still. Until you’re panting against his lips and digging your nails into his shoulders. You can feel the head of his cock as it glides over your stomach, slicking you with pre-come. He’s so hard against you and you’re sure it must ache. One of your hands slides down his back and forward across his hip, following the line of muscle until you meet the wiry thatch of hair again. His teeth graze your bottom lip as you weigh him in your palm, teasing your thumb over the weeping head of his cock with just the littlest amount of pressure you’re able to manage. “Why the teasin’ all of a sudden?” Arthur asks with a slanted smirk on his lips. You’re quick to taste it. You shrug from where you’re laid beneath him, watching his eyes search your face. You smile “It’s what you deserve” your lips are on his again, both smiling, Arthur takes your lip between his teeth again. He only breaks the kiss to glance down at where your hand meets his cock, watching with a slack jaw as you jerk upwards ever so slowly. His hips follow the retreat of your grip, practically fucking the shape your hand formed around him. You click your tongue “who’s impatient now?” You ask with a sly grin. Arthur sinks his teeth into the flesh-top of your breast for that. “I never said I was a patient man” he says against your skin, looking up at you.

Arthur’s kiss tastes like home. It proves it isn’t a place. It’ll always be him, to you. The sharpness of the tobacco he smokes and the deep flavour of the ginseng leaves he chews on while out riding for hours upon hours. The sloppiness of his kiss when he’s had a drink. His teeth catch yours and he sucks welts into your neck for you to have to cover up so the gang don’t see. He tastes of whiskey on those nights. The rich woodiness of it. Something not well aged. Something cheap. It still tastes more than fine to you.

He slots his hips between yours like it’s the most natural thing. Wrapping your thighs around his waist while he presses the head of his cock between your pussy lips. Forever teasing. Gathering the wetness of your juices and his saliva on his cock so as to fit easier. To make it better for you. You have nothing to compare it to, but Arthur’s cock had seemed so daunting at first, but now it’s as easy as breathing. When he presses his forehead to yours and cants his hips forward it’s as easy as welcoming him home. Your hips widen and your back arches and everything else falls away. You feel so full. So complete. His cock throbs inside of you and it’s thrilling. Arthur kisses you for the thousandth time and it’s still not enough. Even when he begins to move. One hand pressed to the side of your head and one guiding your hips, he still doesn’t feel like he’s close enough. You moan loudly and Arthur’s cock twitches inside of you. He grits his teeth and you hear it “fuck” he presses his cheek to yours and whispers in your ear. Praises. Curses. Pleads to god. All of it. You never let go of him. Your nails pull train track like marks down his shoulder blades, gripping him for dear life as he begins to fuck you like he hasn’t in weeks. Because that’s the truth. He hasn’t. It’s a build up of everything. You’re his escape. His outlet. Past that you’re someone he cares deeply for, more than he would care to admit to himself, he values you more than just sex.

“You’re takin’ me so good darlin’” his voice is thick and hoarse. His lungs burn from the strain. From the way he’s holding himself back. His grip is bruising, you can feel it, but you’ll wear them under all of your layers with pride. With the filthy reminder of what the two of you do when out of earshot of camp- sometimes still within earshot if Arthur is feeling brave and you’re willing to go along with it. His words strike you deep in your core. You grow wetter around the pull of his cock if it’s even possible. The way you moan is almost embarrassing. Your head lulls and your eyes water, he’s making up for lost time for sure. You lean closer and press your temple to his cheek, rocking with the motion of his hips as he fucks into you harder, he’s getting close. “You make it all feel so good Arthur” you’re heaving, struggling against his thrusts and it’s only worsened when you feel him press the pads of his fingers against your clit. It’s like a match striking and your body reacts immediately. Your arms are looped around his neck, keeping him close to you. Your lips pull into a smile “no one else could make me feel as good as you Arthur - none of em’” it drags a noise from his lips and you’re most certainly adding that to the filthy part of your brain for a later date.

He’s prideful. You know this. You also know that he knows you’ve never been with anyone else. He’d like to keep it that way. He wants you to never feel like you need to seek someone else out. He acts as if he doesn’t know he’s ruined sex for you with anyone else but him. Nothing would compare.

You cum for a second time. Arthur plucks it from you easily. His deft fingers working you up to that point. He builds the pressure until it’s nothing more than stars behind your eyelids when you close your eyes. Everything within you tightens like a coiled spring, he pushes you past the point at just the right time. He makes it good for himself too. He makes you cum first not only because he’s a gentleman, but because it makes it all the more better for him. His orgasm crests and rolls until it feels like his gut is twisting. He fights it. He tries to make it last until you’ve cum. Because that’s what finally pulls him over the edge. The way your cunt squeezes him. Milking his cock for all it’s worth until he’s twitching inside the warmth of your walls. Painted in his cum and still spasming from the fall down of your own orgasm.

His chest is pressed to yours. Sweat slicked and clammy. Arthur balances above you on his elbows and attempts to catch his breath. Both of your chests brush against one another, heaving air into your lungs like you’re starved of it. Your hands fall from Arthur’s shoulders to the dip of his waist, simply resting there while you catch your bearings. You look up at the sky. Noticing how much darker it suddenly feels. A bead of sweat drips from Arthur’s nose and falls to your cheek, it guides you to look at him. You meet his eyes. The smile he wears mirrors to you. Despite how you’d felt for the past two weeks, none of it feels like it matters right now. It’s dust on the wind.

He opens his mouth to speak but a quick and loud crack of thunder completely cuts him off- it makes the both of you jump out of your skin. Within seconds a fierce downpour suddenly breaks from the heavens. It bounces of the ground and you’re quick to seek refuge from the way it stings your eyes by hiding beneath Arthur. “God dammit” tumbles from his chest. “Arthur?” You cock your head to meet his eyes while still managing to hide from the rain. He adjusts himself as he rests on his elbows, he’s growing soft inside of you. “Darlin’?” His accent sounds thicker.

“You owe me a bar of soap”.

~

It’s a day later and you’re sitting with Hosea in his tent. He’s reading and you’re sewing up a hole you’d manage to tear in one of your skirts. There’s something that’s unnerving you. It’s unclear exactly what it is. More than likely nothing, just your mind simply playing tricks. There’s something in your head telling you that what you and Arthur are doing is wrong. Despite the fact it really isn’t. You’re both adults who know what they want, you guess it’s strange because you’ve co-existed for so long and have come across as having no interest in each other whatsoever. This thing between you isn’t exactly a secret, but you and Arthur had spoken about it and decided it wasn’t something that needed to be made into a big fuss. Despite all of that, you still feel like you’re going to get caught out sooner or later.

The two of you had been so careless as to fall asleep out by the river last night. After returning to the water to wash off for a second time and waiting out the rain you and Arthur had wanted to stay away from camp a little longer to catch up properly. He’d left his horse further up the river bank so that he could scare you, so after gathering up Iris and getting dressed you walked with Arthur back to his horse and helped him set up his tent. You were only meant to stay for an hour or two at best. To eat something and talk without interruptions, you must have both fallen asleep quickly only to startle awake in the dead pitch-blackness of night. The fire had gone out a while ago and Arthur was still wrapped around you as he slept.

Somehow you’d both managed to sneak back into camp without waking anyone. Even the horses were quiet enough as not to spook the other horses. You parted from him with a kiss and told him you’d talk tomorrow.

He had left with Dutch an hour ago. Neither of them said a word to anyone else. Not even Hosea. That was becoming more frequent. The secrecy and lack of transparency, you’d noticed it for some time now and you knew that Hosea had caught onto it quickly too. He was an honest man and you had known him for long enough, he trusted you with his complaints. “They’re up to somethin’. I just know it” he’d barely looked up from his book as they’d left on horseback. You follow Hosea’s words. “You think so?” You’re almost finished patching the hole in your skirt. He hums an affirmative “been real shifty lately the pair of ‘em” his tone is speculative. You wonder if he’s right.

It’s much later now, the midday sun is blearing above your head and the sweat drips down the back of your neck. You’re just pouring yourself a cup of coffee when Lenny and Javier return to camp dragging an almost limp Sean off the back of Javier’s horse.

It’s not uncommon, you aren’t worried, not even enough to ask if he’s okay - it’s only when Lenny calls your name in that desperate tone that you know something is seriously wrong. Your coffee is abandoned and you rush to them, fully expecting the worst. They’re all out of breath. “We was minding our business! Honest!” Lenny is quick to point out, helping Javier support Sean’s weight with an arm under each of his. Sean is conscious to a point, he’s almost standing on his own and although his eyes are shaky he can still focus on the sound of your voice and which direction it’s coming from. “What the hell happened?” Your tone is sharp, both Javier and Lenny look at each other. Javier clears his throat to speak “we were just having a drink” he looks at his boots before continuing “they attacked him out of nowhere, we got the hell out of there as fast as we could”. You don’t think he’s lying, but it’s Sean, so you know there’s more to this. You press your lips into a thin line “bring him to a chair over here”.

When Sean is seated he unfortunately regains the ability to speak. He slurs your name. There’s a huge gash that leads from his cheek to the top of his temple, it doesn’t look too deep but it’ll need packing and stitching. You ask Lenny to bring you what you’ll need and he does so quickly. He sets it down on the table behind Sean and makes himself scarce. “Sean?” You say his name, watching as his eyes slowly focus on you, his face splits into an uneven grin. “Yes gorgeous”. You’d be surprised if he didn’t have a concussion, at least the large cut seems to be the worst of it for him. You hold his face in your hands and angle his head to get a better look at the injury. “Can you hear me okay? Your sight okay?” You speak clearly and he stays focused on your lips as you speak. “It’s all fine love” he smiles as he speaks “how’s your sight? Could make ya see stars if ya would just gimme a chance” Sean leans forwards but you lean back, keeping the distance. “I’m being serious” you tell him, he clicks his tongue “what makes ye think I’m not?”.

You try your best to ignore him and work at threading a needle, planning on stitching up his face. There’s a bottle of whiskey on the table that you’d asked Lenny for and you grab it and press it into Sean’s hand. “Drink some” he does so without question, you know this will hurt so getting him drunk is your best bet- and that’s saying something. After you’ve threaded your needle and prepared a bandage you look down and see that the alcohol is nearly gone. You sigh “for Christs sake Sean” you supposed you hadn’t been specific with him, you snatch the bottle back. “Lean back for me” you hold the bottle up to his face “anything for you pretty girl” he flashes his teeth at you but you can’t focus on it. You press your free hand over his eyes and pour the alcohol into his wound, he barely flinches, you supposed after what those bounty hunters did to him this must not compare in the slightest.

There’s exactly three stitches in Sean’s face before he starts yapping again. He sighs heavily “I’d treat ya well y’know” you laugh “sure you would” you like Sean, in that enduring little brother who’s hit puberty and doesn’t know when enough is enough kind of way- you’d never go there. You stiffen when you feel his hands on your waist, his slender fingers pinch the fabric of your skirts that lay over your hips. “Sean-“ your tone is a warning, but you’re cut off.

“If you wanna keep those hands I suggest you get’em off my woman Irishman”

[beomiracles]

Hi!! May I request just an any member of TXT x reader wherein they are both demigods and go to camp halfblood??

⌞ 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐎𝐃 ⌝

DREAM RECALL stumbling across a hidden camp on the Long Island shore reveals that you are not the only one with a compromised family.

pairings demigod!txt x demigod!reader (gn) warnings none !

#serene adds ✎ anon...you brought out my inner nerd with this one. I've read ALL and I mean all Percy Jackson books. I LOVE THE SERIES. Though this was when I was 12, so I'm sure there are a few details missing BUT hehe, this was sm fun. I couldn't pick just one member so I did head canons for all of them!!!

IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE BOOKS (shame on you) It's basically a series in which the greek gods occasionally have children with ordinary humans, thus creating a "demigod". These children will grow up to have a fragment of the powers their parents have. Camp half-blood is a sort of safe haven for these children where they're assigned a cabin based off of their godly parent. They train and specialise in their powers in order to defend themselves !

this post makes a lot more sense if you have read the books or seen the movie(s) but I have tried to make it understandable for those who haven't !

either way these are the type of demigods I personally think the members would be, (yes I'm trying to be different).

YEONJUN — son of ZEUS CABIN 1

After spending four long and excruciating summers at camp half blood, Yeonjun finally got acknowledged by his father last year, becoming the first to move into cabin one. 

Thanks to his outgoing nature he's never had any issues making friends despite his unusual parent. — He’s also one of the first to greet you upon your arrival. Making sure you get introduced to everyone and everything as he shows you around, throwing in a quick pick-up line or two as he tours the place for you.  

Most definitely likes shows off, I mean, he’s not Zeus only acknowledged son for nothing. — Summoning large thunderstorms, relishing in the way you cling to his side as he makes lightning strike not far from the two of you. 

Your first nights at camp half-blood are spent in cabin one with Yeonjun, despite the protocol being for unclaimed demigods to stay in Hermes’. 

It’s a little bittersweet to say the least when Aphrodite finally decides to acknowledge you as it meant you had to bid farewell to your new friend’s spacious living quarters. 

Though Yeonjun gets along well with almost everyone, there’s a kid in cabin seven that always seems to get on his every nerve.

SOOBIN — son of ARES CABIN 5

Despite being the son to the God of literal war, Soobin considered himself to be somewhat of a pacifist. Unlike his half siblings, he never engaged in any of the fights usually taking place both inside and outside of cabin five. 

He much preferred spending time with you, picking flowers as he lets you braid them into his hair. Reading poetry together on an open field or going to care for the horses in the stables. 

Soobin knew that his nature got him on his father’s bad side, but he didn’t really mind. Instead he used his almost supreme strength to help out where he was needed, carrying heavy hay bales or helping you move large furniture in your room.

He’s probably too shy to ever admit out loud that he thinks you’re very cute. As one of Aphrodite's children he thinks you must hear that a lot, thus he holds back from showering you with compliments. 

He’s also not one to participate in the many games hosted by your camp, and if he does, he’s always the first one to get sent to the infirmary.

BEOMGYU — son of APOLLO CABIN 7

Has been around for pretty much his whole life, his necklace filled to the brim with beads, representing each summer spent at camp half-blood. 

Very much a show off as well, knows how to use a bow but can also both sing and play the guitar. His ego might just be bigger than Yeonjun’s. 

Quickly introduces himself on your first day there, even though your tour guide (Yeonjun) purposefully avoided cabin 7 as he showed you around. 

Beomgyu often complains that you use your powers on him, as Aphrodite's children are known for their manipulation of both love and lust, and that’s the reason as to why he can’t get you out of his head, dedicating song after song to you as he plays them by the fire each night. 

Often takes joy in casting minor curses on whoever does him dirty, cough, cough. So you’re not surprised when you hear the loud yell coming from Zeus’ cabin on a Saturday morning.

TAEHYUN — son of ATHENA CABIN 6

Unlike the others, Taehyun finds little amusement in anything that involves the outdoors. Cooped up in his room, he spends his days reading and researching the most diverse topics that he can come across. 

You have to practically drag him out of the cabin as you force him to join you and Beomgyu whilst you practice archery. He will most likely just whine and complain the whole time, pointing out your errors as he goes. 

Thanks to his introverted nature, Taehyun doesn’t have a lot of friends, to be honest, you might be his only one. — He will never admit it out loud, but his heart beats a little faster when he sees you skip inside the dimly lit cabin. Ready to listen to him talk about whatever book he had last read. 

He does care for you, not that you would know because he only talks fondly of you when you’re not around. Standing up to whoever might have something negative to say as he quickly shoots them down with a witty remark. 

On a brighter note, there’s little Taehyun doesn’t know and you can always count on him to be able to handle any kind of situation.

HUENINGKAI — son of HADES CABIN 13

Kai almost wanted to cry when his father finally claimed him two years ago. Being associated with death wasn’t exactly something one wished for, especially not Kai. Not to mention the fact that he would have to sleep in the creepy and dark cabin all by himself. 

Quickly becoming an outcast, Kai was very hesitant to approach you, not wanting to scare you off with the literal epitome of death lingering around him. But you liked him from the start, the two of you made for an odd pair but you thought it was kind of charming. 

You ate dinner and breakfast together, and you often visited him in his cabin so that he wouldn’t have to be so lonely. Despite his father being the ruler of hell, Kai was both scared of the dark and any horror movie rated 13+. 

He didn’t care much for the powers passed onto him by his father and thus he never practiced them very much. — If he did use them, it would be in order to bring back your pet cat that had been run over by a car, or saving a mouse that got caught up in a trap. 

Kai did however become quite close with Yeonjun, the fact that they were both the only children of their parents sparked a friendship that no one really saw coming.

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[wlntrsldler]

If the boys played “never have I ever” in an interview, what would be revealed to the public?

I SPRINTED TO MY COMPUTER

here's the transcript of poisoned mercury's buzzfeed interview where they played never have i ever as part of their press tour to promote their new album:

interviewer: thank you guys for coming!

luke *smiling while he fixes his mic*: thanks for having us :) we were just talking about how we used to do buzzfeed quizzes when we were younger.

travis: there were many days where we'd be in luke's house back in connecticut and completely forget that we were supposed to be rehearsing because we got caught up trying to figure out which inside out emotion we were.

interviewer: well, i'm glad to hear it because today we're gonna play a game of 'never have i ever.'

chris: unrelated but i fucking love that show. team paxton for life.

luke: dude no. ben is clearly the right choice.

connor: ok mr. enemies to lovers, of course you'd say that.

luke: shut up???!

travis: i think if we took the inside out quiz again right now, i'd get disgust because that's how i feel being in a band with two idiots who are so in love with their girlfriends.

connor: swear to god if i hear another "no you hang up first," from either one of you *looks at chris and luke* i'm blowing my brains out.

interviewer looks around the room, trying to ask the producers what she should do. the video editors are already stressing because they know they have to bleep out a lot of the words the boys are using.

interviewer: .... so let's start with the first question. never have i ever gone skinny dipping.

chris: fuck, how did you get all of us on the first question?

connor: yeah we've gone skinny dipping a few times, but the most recent was last summer. mama c-- shoutout mama c, we love you!

luke: yeah, we love you mama!

connor: she put all of us on timeout and we spent the entire summer at a music camp and on our last night, we all went skinny dipping at the lake with our roommates.

luke: oh shit, i forgot about that. those were good times. *looks at chris* i miss camp bro.

chris: me too.

travis *stares deadpan into the camera*: do you see what we have to deal with?

interviewer: never have i ever had a crush on a friend's sibling.

travis: guilty.

chris *turns his head so fast*: given that you're related to connor and luke is an only child, you better be talking about a non-band friend.

travis *shrugging*: your older sister is hot, rodriguez.

chris: stay away from my sister.

luke *looks at the interviewer with wide eyes*: next question or you'll have a video to submit to worldstar.

interviewer: oh! uh, okay-- never have i ever accidentally posted something to my main account instead of my private or close friends one.

connor *cracking up*: castellan, wanna take this one?

luke *blushing*: this feels like a targeted question because we know the infamous video of me with the handsome squidward filter on (the hozier incident) that was supposed to go on my close friends story! i was so embarrassed. to be clear, i was JOKING. i don't actually flirt like that.

travis: i've seen you flirt with y/n, and you in the squidward video had more game than you normally do.

luke *teasing because he knows travis does not want a relationship*: and yet who's single between the two of us?

connor: oh he got you there.

travis: y/n, if you're watching this, you deserve better. he's a loser. i have better friends i can set you up with.

luke: five star, if you're watching this, you're stuck with me. there's no going back.

interviewer: never have i ever had a song written about me.

chris: this is a great pivot to promote our sophomore album's lead single, "kiss her you fool!" we wrote this song about our front man, luke, here. our second album "optimism don't come easy (unless it's with you)" is out now.

interviewer: i love that shameless self-promo.

connor: i think we as a band can benefit from having some shame, but thank you.

chris *turns to luke*: this will also come as a shock to you, but there's another song out in the world that's kinda about you.

luke: huh? which one?

travis: quinnie, remember her? she was in cabin 7. she wrote the bulk of it, but y/n actually gave her the idea. chris and connor helped her with instrumentals and the song is sick.

connor: it was amazing. quinnie is so talented. if you guys haven't heard her music, i highly, highly recommend it. the song we're talking about is called touch tank. you guys should check it out.

chris: agreed. she's also just a fucking cool person. she's one of our closest friends in the industry.

travis *making a heart with his hands*: we love you, quinnie!

interviewer: okay, final question since we're running out of time. never have i ever gone on a world tour for my band's second album.

luke *laughs*: i see what you did there. that was good.

connor: we are soooooo excited to announce that we're going back on tour! this summer, we'll be seeing all your beautiful faces again. tickets go on sale this friday! we hope to see you there!

luke: check out our band's twitter for more information on how to get tickets and to see if we'll be coming to a city near you.

chris: we miss seeing you guys!

travis: see you guys so soon! we love you!

interviewer: that's all the time we have for today. thank you guys so much. it was a pleasure!

[lazyneonrabbitt]

The bridge home

Daryl Dixon x Reader | Slight smut

Daryl has to introduce his exraordinary girlfriend by accident.

A teensy bit of hilarious smut at the start.

Your last weeks were spent hiding away and barely sleeping. There were humans all over your territory and you couldn't tell if they were ones who'd let you go, the ones he had told you about.

He, who despite being smaller than you had you on your back with your back legs spread wide, cock all the way i side of you and lips wrapped around a nipple as he eagerly fucked you on the forest floor.

Settling for a human was never your plan, but this one was special.

And he was yours.

He worked you so well and always knew how to make you finish before him, your claws dragging over his back as you toppled over the edge.

You tried not to make a habit of making him bleed, but he kept telling you he didn't mind while you were lapping the wounds on his back to make them heal quicker.

He slept at your side that night instead of in his tent at the building site. He slept so well with your large frame wrapped around him, being held in your arms.

With the rise of the sun he made his way back to camp, small game in hand that you hunted together.

You watched him from the shadows, staying away from any threats as ordered by Daryl. While his friends would accept you, there were many bad people among the group as well, men he didn't trust but was forced to work with.

Over the course of the day you watched the humans work on a bridge. While you thought it was stupid they needed these things to cross water and vehicles to move around, you admired the skill they had for making these structures. You had found the perfect spot near the water to watch them work, seeing Daryl be in a joyous conversation with a man you had watched before. They were friends.

You also saw a younger child walk around, he seemed to be handing out water and he was doing a great job. Until one of the men started being a problem.

Daryl was quick to take action when one of the ex-Saviors took the entire jug of water for himself and shoved Henri aside in the process, grabbing at him and landing a punch making him let go of the jug.

Sadly the hint wasn’t landing and the man jumped Daryl, getting a hit in as well before Daryl managed to dodge, but not without being grabbed by the front of his shirt and the already thin fabric tearing open.

You had made your way closer to the bridge as the fight went on, hearing Daryl yell, and Carol appeared too.

Daryl’s shirt tore, revealing not just old scars but also fresh cuts that were barely healed over. They were all over him. His back entirely covered as well as his chest, shoulders and down his hips. The second his torn body came into view his anxiety kicked in hard. Loss of breath, frantic staring at any pair of eyes that seemed to stare at him in disgust and the loudest ringing in his head, even worse than when his daddy beat the hell out of him. He as frozen in place, shaking as he held what was left of his shirt onto his body.

You were right at the edge of visible, debating to jump in to get him out but a woman you recognized from Daryl’s description already ran up to him and draped his leather vest over him and huddled close. You felt Daryl relax from where you sat and weren’t sure how you felt about it.

Daryl was yours. She was too close to him and you wanted her away from him. Comforting Daryl was your task, not hers.

In seconds you emerged from the tree line and jumped up on the bridge, a loud snarl sending everyone steps back including she who looked to be Carol.

“Away.” Your jaw snapped close in the woman’s direction as your form wrapped around Daryl’s, who stared at you in shock.

Others ran or readied whatever they could find to use as a weapon against the monster that had suddenly appeared on the bridge. You had no eyes for them, not even the one who attacked your human. Daryl was the only one deserving of your attention right now, nuzzling your snout against his arm and purring softly to calm his nerves. “Come, leave.” Your voice was close to s growl in hopes of scaring onlookers away and it worked to a certain extent.

The only ones around now were the Carol woman, a younger girl and the man Daryl chatted with before, along with a few others at the end of the bridge. They all stared, not helping Daryl’s unease. He wanted to talk to you so badly, tell you to piss off in an angry tone, try to fake scare you off in the hoped you got the hint but he couldn’t get himself to yell at you while you were actively trying to comfort him. He froze again when you started lapping at the scratches on his shoulder in a comforting manner. Your tail wrapped around his leg as you glared at the humans surrounding your mate, wanting to snap at them again to leave but that meant stopping to care for him and you couldn’t.

“Daryl?” The older woman was the first to speak. “Who’s that?”

You tried your best to answer for him as you went to nuzzle his neck and lovingly licked the corner of his mouth with a content wag of your tail.

“She seems to like you.” The friendly man added when Daryl hadn’t spoken after a while. Carol and the young girl agreed with the man, letting out a soft laugh at his words and it made your tail wag more excitedly.

“She uh..” Daryl’s eyes flickered between Aaron’s and the women’s, not feeling the situation at all but needing to bite the bullet before someone got trigger happy because of the huge wolf beast.

Your eyes landed on the friendly man, who looked to be lost in thought, not even seeing what was going on in front of him. He was radiating confusion.

Meanwhile Aaron was trying his hardest to figure out what was off about all of this. Hell, the animal not even being the weirdest thing at that very moment. He knew Daryl wasn’t entirely like him and Eric, that was a known fact by now but he also knew he was in no way or shape like Rick or Abraham. He had thought about Daryl swinging both, if not all ways, if he even did feel attraction to anyone. He considered that too for a moment.

“S’mahgirlfriend..” Daryl’s eyes avoided everyone, but that didn’t keep you from standing up to be at eye level with him and licking a broad stripe over his lips. An anxiously shaking hand came up to reach your fur and hold on for comfort he desperately needed.

Carol gave a cheerful congratulations, along with a thumbs up and wide smile rom the younger girl. On your other side you saw the friendly man stare in shock.

Aaron had mentally filed through every single flag and option on his wheel of queer identities, but he had never in his life expected it to unhinge itself and crash into, whatever the couple in front of him would be called. Not that he was against it, it was just new.

The other bystanders didn't hear Daryl's words, to his luck, and strolled back to camp after deciding they didn't need to fight a freakish dog thing.

Carol stepped closer, her hands up in a show of defeat. A raised lip from you made her stop inmediately and had Daryl speak up. With a flick to your ear he let you know you were wrong. "Ya know she's ma friend, righ'?" His palm laid flat on your head now.

"Too close.." You snarled in her direction, where to younger woman had gotten closer now too. On your other side the friendly man had gotten closer too, looking you over and waving at you upon meeting his eyes.

"C'mon. Relax, they're good folk. They jus' wanna meet ya properly." Daryl ruffled your neck fur as he laughed at how possesive you ended up being.

"'Sides, if ya wanna come home with me later, we gotta work on gettin' ya back in yer human form."

Your ears perked up at that, excitement taking over as you rose yo full height and grabbed him close to you. "Home?" He wanted to take you home?

He was taking you home, no more hiding in the woods!

Daryl got slobbered with kisses, not a chance to protest as everyone shared loving laughs with the couple.

[cranberryjuice-posts]

-it was a mistake I swear-

Pairings - clarisse x Fem! Reader (any godly parent can work just reader is friends with Chris Rodriguez)

An: Any godly parent can work - this is based off of like Ellie and Dina and their kiss at the party + Ellie’s friendship w Jesse

Tw - slur dyke is used, Clarisse low key is out of character 😢🙏

“Fuck—“ the daughter of ares groaned as she got up and walked to the door opening it still in her sweats and sports bra.. standing outside the cabin door was her brother mark who was holding a plate of a traditional breakfast with her water bottle in another. “Mornin sleeping beauty” he joked but clarisse however wasnt in the mood and just walked away.

He followed clarisse inside and shut the door, after handing clarisse the food mark sat across from his sister on a different bed.

Clarisse started to eat almost choking when she saw it was 12pm, more then half the day wasted. She started to drink some water in hopes of clearing her throat out.

“So” mark looked over from where he was laying, “I heard you had an intresting night last night” Clarisse paused but shook her head.

“No.. no it was just y/n being y/n she kissed me an—“

Mark sat up shocked and looked over at his sister. “I was talking about your fight with James you kissed y/n?” Clarisse paused and looked down speaking in a flat tone. “Oh.”

—

At the same time only a few hours earlier you sat on your bunk going through your shirts while Chris confronted you.

“You kissed clarisse?” He asked and you sighed setting a camp shirt down.

“Shit, im sorry i know you liked her but I just— fuck this is awkward” you held your head down in embarrassment but Chris just laughed. “Dude chill, I don’t care you two are cute together now can you get dressed so we can go start training”

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Your the worst” You reached to open your trunk but he slammed it down. “It’s still fucked up you did that though” he added, you shoved him back and grabbed a random shirt throwing it on.

The entire morning you heard whispers from around the camp about your kiss last night and you just wanted to curl up in a hole and die.

After a few campers approach you wanting to know the real details about what happened you lost it.

—

Clarisse soon joined the camp, however when some kids approached her about last night they were face first in the dirt after she shoved them.

A couple hours passed. Clarisse spent Marjory of the afternoon trying to find you, eventually she heard you were in the arena with some younger new kids most likely demigods who hadn’t been claimed yet.

She looked around before finding you, Clarisse kept her tough exterior up still conscious of the other campers around… “swing your sword like this” you instructed swinging your body a certain way when you felt a pair of hands grab your hips.

You turned around and saw clarisse standing behind you. “Move your body more like this focus the movement out and away from yourself”

she turned you some, her tone was a more authoritative yet calm one with a neutral face. You blushed as she let go, turning to face her you tucked some loose hair behind your ear.

The young demigods infront of you got the hint and walked to a different area of the arena.. there was some silence before both you and clarisse went to talk at the same time. You chuckled quietly as clarisse shifted awkwardly.

“Look im sorry about last Night”

“It’s Fine lise, Actually i wanted to apologize“ You admitted and leaned against the wall.

“Why.”

“Well i mean i was a Little high and there was so many people around I shouldn’t of kissed you I—”

“no no it’s fine you were just trying to cheer me up”

“I know but still-“

“It’s all good im not Reading into it or anything” clarisse crossed her arms and looked down.

Much to her suprised she saw your face with a playful look on it. “You know what I love about you.. you always let me finish my sentence” you smiled at her and tucked a curl away from her face. “Wanna help me train these new kids?”

“I’d rather kill over”

“Sure” you joked while walking away back towards the kids, Clarisse couldn’t help but watch as you left with a light smile.

————

(This is supposed to be a flashback like how it was in the game 😭😭)

Clarisse stood near her cabin pouting though she wouldn’t admit it. Her siblings majorty had either gone back to the cabin or were around the fire partying with the other camera. Clarisse thought it was dumb that the entire camp was celebrating the Hephaestus cabins win in the summer games when the ares cabin should of won.

Looking down clarisse didn’t notice you walking over. “So, how’s the pouting session going hm?” You leaned on the railing of the ares cabin porch beside clarisse.

“I’m not pouting”

“Mmm yes You are”

Clarisse rolled her eyes at your comment. “What do You want” she complained. “Well I’d really like to hangout with the girl who told me she was gonna show me a good time after she won the war games”

She scoffed. “Does it look like i fucking won” You however laughed. “Nah you look like your pouting” before clarisse could respond You grabbed her hand and lead her towards the campfire.

Placing her hands on your hips and wrapping your arms around clarisses neck you started to dance with her while some song played in the muffled distance. The two started to slowly sway.

“Well” You dramatically sighed. “Since your not in a bad mood I guess I can’t offer you anything to feel better” Clarisse raised an eyebrow wanting to know what you were getting at. “Oh yeah? And what was that”

You shook your head, moving one of your hands seat from clarisses neck you started to play with one of her curls. “You Just Said you weren’t pouting so I can’t tell you.. unless of course you were lying” you gave her a Cheshire Cat smile. She gave you an intimidating look but eventually broke character. “Fine I was pouting”

“Really?! Oh you poor baby”

“Don’t be a bitch about it”

You laughed quietly, sighing you placed your hand back around clarisses neck and just smiled at her. Clarisse rolled her eyes at your antics. “You know there all staring at you” she whispered.

“Maybe their staring at you” you whispered back admiring the girls face “or maybe their jealous”, but she just shook her head. “Nothing to be jealous of, I’m just a girl”

You moved a hand from her neck to cheek. “Clarisse, your so much more than that” you gently rubbed her cheek before leaning in and kissing her.

Clarisse gasped but quickly kissed back squeezing your waist in response. The kiss however was short when James walked past shoving his shoulder into clarisses.

She looked back pissed off. “Excuse you” she grabbed his shoulder and turned him.. james was some unclaimed kid that no one could careless about. He just scoffed. “This is a whole camp event keep the PDA to a minimum”

You rolled your eyes. “Sorry.. sorry!” You whined and grabbed clarisses Hand to lead her away. James shifted his stance. “Remeber there’s younger campers around”

“Yeah like your Setting such a Great example” You rolled your eyes.

“Great what this camp needs.. another loud mouth dyke” you felt clarisse stop walking and watched as she turned around.. you put a hand on her chest to stop her but she didn’t care. “The fuck did you just say!”

“Clarisse”

Clarisse shoved james back, before an actually fight could break out Chiron had stepped in.. multiple campers crowded around— out of embarrassment you just left. The daughter of ares eventually calmed before she had noticed you were gone.

She stormed back to her cabin, slumping down in her bed and mentally complaining wondering if she fucked everything up.

[rose-pearls]

Hi there!! If your requests are still open i’d like to make one, btw Im not very good at requesting, so im sorry if this doesn’t make any sense.

Could your possibly write a Clairrise x Hephaestus’s Nb kid reader. Like we’ll make/repair weapons for her, and we weld her flowers with nuts and bolts and cute stuff like that!!

Feel free to skip this request!! Have a good day/night!!!! :D

Hi!! Thank you so much for your request, it was so cute and I loved the fact that it was a reader from another cabin then the Aphrodite cabin! I hope you like it and that it is what you wanted! My requests are open for every fandom I write for!

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989

Percy Jackson Taglist: @niktwazny303

Clarisse La Rue Taglist: @peanutbelley, @abbersreads

Non-binary reader, if there is a mistake somewhere please tell me and I'll fix it! I am always open for feedback :))

When you started dating Clarisse a lot of people were surprised, it wasn’t often that a child of Hephaestus and a child of Ares got along, let alone date each other. But it had just made sense when you had met her during your first day of camp. You had tried to find what you were good at, with the help of Luke, and as you were trying to figure out how to use the spear he had given you a beautiful girl had arrived.

“Why don’t you let the expert teach them, Castellan?”, the brown-haired girl says with a confident smirk, making you blush. Luke had just rolled his eyes at the words before telling you that he would get you at the end of the hour to try something new.

“Now, you should watch your grip when you wield it,” she says before starting to show you how to adjust your hands, making your skin tingle at the touch.

It wasn’t until later that you realized why so many people had been watching the two of you, Clarisse wasn’t really the type to help someone out or to be patient with anyone. When your father claimed you after two days of being at camp the whole camp had been waiting with anticipation how Clarisse would be reacting to the news, after all she was a proud daughter of Ares.

“I don’t care about who your father is and what beef he has with mine, Ares always has beef with everyone. So, what do you say of ignoring who our parents are and just moving along?”, Clarisse had seemed unaffected, but she had been preparing the speech in her head since last night, when one of her siblings had told her who your parent was. She was hoping that Ares wouldn’t ruin this for her either, she only knew you for three days, but you were someone she cared about, whether she liked it or not.

“I would love that,” you had told her and after that the two of you had stayed close friends, much to everyone’s shock and your sibling’s dismay. 

Getting together with Clarisse had been the most difficult part, she didn’t see love as something good or worthwhile. She had seen her mother getting into depressive episodes after Ares left her to raise Clarisse alone and she didn’t want to ever experience that, let alone be that cause of someone’s pain. It had taken you a while to try and convince her that you could be something more than just friends and that love was something incredible to experience. 

“I just don’t want to hurt you or lose you, it would hurt far too much,” she had told you once, when the laughter of the campers could be heard from far away.

“Wouldn’t it hurt more to know that we could have been something but that we just didn’t try? I know that we are demi-gods and that we could die any day but I don’t want to die and regret not having had a chance to spent every single day with you and showing you how much I love you,” there were tears in her eyes at your words, and you could see the conflict in her eyes before she brought you into a soft kiss, as if she was scared she could break you.

“You’re right,” she had whispered before bringing you back into a kiss, this time more fervent as she showed you just how much she loved you.

It had been two years since then and you couldn’t be happier, watching Clarisse spar with her siblings and preparing for Capture the flag while you made some flowers out of a few things you had found around your working area. 

“That for me?”, you hear behind you before your feel a soft kiss on your cheek.

“It is,” you tell Clarisse as she sits next to you, watching the intricately woven nuts and bolts you had found around.

“I love it, thank you,” she tells you before bringing you into a kiss.

“I’ll add it to my collection,” she says with a bright smile, already trying to figure out where she was going to put it.

“I’ll see you after capture the flag?”, you ask her, and she nods in agreement as a pout forms on her lips.

“I can’t believe you aren’t going to be playing capture the flag today,” you smile softly at her words before taking her hand in yours.

“Well, I need to teach every single thing I know to my new sibling but next time I’ll be there,” you promise her and enjoy the satisfied smile on Clarisse lips.

“Fine, but I need a good luck kiss first,” she whispers, and you quickly do as she requests, smiling as she deepens the kiss.

“See you later sunshine!”, she tells you before joining her siblings, making you smile as you watch her putting on her armour. 

It was just an hour later when you heard the door of your cabin slam open, your new sibling looking scared at the sound, as if he was expecting a monster to come in. But it was Clarisse, tears in her eyes and a broken spear in her hands. 

“Why don’t you go to your station and work a little bit on the things I taught you?”, you quickly ask your sibling, who quickly scurries out of the room. 

“Clarisse?”, you whisper as you look at her trembling form, she looks like she is desperately holding back her tears but as you carefully put your hand on hers, she breaks down.

The tears are falling down her cheeks as you bring her into a comforting hug, holding her close as she holds on to you for dear life.

“What happened?”, you ask her softly, hoping not to make her cry even more at your words.

“That new kid, he broke my spear,” she whispers, and a sob leaves her lips at the words, making you hold her tightly. 

“Gods, I’m so sorry Clarise, I know how much it meant to you,” you whisper in her hair, wishing you could go back in time and save it.

“It was the only thing he ever gave me, to show me he cared and now it is gone,” she says, tears falling into your t-shirt, but you don’t care as you try to calm her down.

It takes a moment to calm her down, stroking her hair and letting her talk it all out. You know better than to say it was going to be okay, she had just lost something incredibly valuable to her and you didn’t know what to do. 

“I can try to fix it,” you whisper softly, and it takes a few seconds before she moves her head to look at you, teary eyes looking into yours.

“You can?”, she whispers, hope appearing into her eyes, and you smile lovingly at her.

“I can try, I can’t promise anything about it still being able to burn someone, but it can be repaired. Nothing is too broken to be fixed,” you tell her, and she takes a deep breath, like she is trying to get herself back together.

“If you can do that, I think that I will marry you,” she says with an emotional smile, and you laugh softly at her words.

“Common let’s see what we can do,” you whisper before taking her hand and bringing her to your station. 

It takes time to put it back together, as the metal had been broken by Percy’s sword but after finding the right metal to fix it you manage to bring the two pieces back together.

“And there we go, nearly as good as before,” you tell her as she looks over the spear, watching how it was once again a whole spear and not two broken parts.

“Thank you,” she whispers with concealed tears in her eyes, but you just shrug your shoulders.

“It was my pleasure, now I can watch you train with it again,” you tell her, and she looks excited at the words, she kisses you lovingly on the lips before dragging you to the training ground, an excited smile on her lips. 

[alk4li]

“BREAK UP SPECTACLE—

albedo, aether, scaramouche, kazuha, alhaitham, childe, cyno

xiao breaks up with reader, how do the other genshin characters react and what do they do?

a/n: i got this idea from a tiktok pause game and i JUMPED to my laptop cause the angst potential?? ( i think i have an anemo boy issue )

a/n2: came back to edit a little things and add in dialogue. i think my writing had matured a little and this was a hard read

xiao ! un-lover boy

"sorry y/n," and with that he left, the vanishing traces of this adeptal energy were all that was left in the seemingly cold and indifferent room. a room you spent msny nights in, huddled up against your lover in the coolest of weathers and warmest of days. many treasured memories all reduced to nothing but what they always were, the past.

as you slowly slumped against the door frame, eyes burning into the place xiao was standing at, a heavy feeling weighs you down and your eyes began to sting.

who comforts you?

albedo

with a tired expression, you sat down next to albedo's chair in his dragonspine camp. melancholic eyes drifted to his nimble hands making quick work of his documents before turning back to you.

"hello, y/n. i see you have visited me, what brings you back so unexpectedly?" albedo asked as he sat down across from you.

you smile, explaining the recent events and your feelings to seek comfort in your friend.

albedo listens attentively, expressions staying mostly stoic as he nods along. after your mini rant, he sighs. "so that's why you look half alive, huh. i see. well, im glad you find solace in me," the faintest of quirk in his lips tug upwards as he grabs a plushie from his table. "perhaps i am unable to attend to your needs as much as you'd like, but i am willing to take a day off to walk around monstadt with you and klee." he lifts up the white rabbit-like plush he had received from klee.

"what do you say, y/n?" as he sets the plush on your lap, "you care to join us?"

aether

soon after catching wind from klee about a very sad looking y/n who abruptly visits monstadt after a big mean monster hurt miss y/n, aether puts two and two together and makes plans to have lunch with you. after his long tiring day of commissions, he finally meets up with you in windtrace.

"y/n! there you are!" paimon waved as the pair approached. they sat down next to you, laying out delicious foods.

although the exchange goes per normal, just a casual lunch date between best friends, you can't help but feel like crying as you see paimon choose to let you eat all the good food before her and aether sharing his many encounters around teyvat to lift your mood.

"I hope you recognise that there are many people here that care about you. you're never alone," a soft grin spreads across his face. nudging you in the waist

scaramouche

although no one told him, he could sense your broken heart from miles away. "what? why do you look so pitiful. what happened to you always wanting to lunge at my throat?" he provokes.

you simply shook your head, looking back down at your feet. "not feeling like it," you utter.

it felt so out of character for you, scaramouche momentarily hesitates, "don't tell me such a minor thing can upset you?" he had roughly deduced what happened between you and your ex-lover but opted against bringing it up.

he sat down next to you on the luscious grass. silently watching the sunset with you, he turns back to your figure, brows cinching at the look of your frowning expression.

"don't be so sulky, you're going to grow wrinkles,” he reaches out and smacks your forehead, before turning back around.

who is secretly glad you broke up?

kazuha

beidou offered you a ride on the crux after hearing about your yearn to depart from liyue immediately. as such, in the midst of the dark sky you boarded the crux, leaving the nation without bidding farewell to your ex-lover.

as you settled down in your quarters, you heard a quiet knock at your door. you opened the door, seeing a worried kazuha leaning against the door frame. "ah, y/n. i hope i'm not intruding? i just thought you might want some company."

“come in,” you sighed, inviting him in. you both quietly sat down on your bed. exasperation creeps up your spine, feeling the weight of the past events collapsing on your shoulders. you finally let out a shaky breath, followed by a warm tear falling from your eyes. quickly, you wiped it away with your sleeve.

wordlessly, kazuha could only stare at your glistening face.

two gentle hands grasp each of your own, clasping them together and pulling you towards him. kazuha's hands wrap around your head, pulling you into his embrace.

"y/n, please stop crying over that childish brute. i know this is very sudden but allow me a chance to be someone you can trust, please.”

alhaitham

as you arrive in sumeru, your first destination is to look for the scribe of sumeru; your childhood friend.

"huh, y/n...? it's been quite sometime," the tall male stood baffled at your presence. you grin as alhaitham slowly registers your figure.

"are you free?" you asked.

not long after, the two of you headed to a nearby cafe for drinks. you caught him up to date and the tragic news that led to your return to sumeru. alhaitham sat quietly, absorbing in the information.

after hearing your story, alhaitham's face turns to stare at your eyes, a look of longing and pity painted his face, but you were too distracted by the approaching waiter to notice.

as the waiter finished taking down your orders, he abruptly halted in his footsteps, "sorry to interrupt but are you by any chance single?" however, before you could muster up a reply, alhaitham spoke.

"no, she is courting me. i would appreciate if you got back to your job.”

who would exact revenge

tartaglia

during his ventures about teyvat, he had heard about what happened from aether. tartaglia was not one to get too into other peoples business, but something sparked within him.

he deploys more fatui's near the inn, often causing unnecessary trouble around the perimeter and blocking the import of tofu and almond in spite.

"hope you choke on many almonds tonight."

bonus :

cyno ! god of laughs

hes telling you many lame jokes.

of course you're playing tcg! he would purposely use xiao's card and let you beat him with a very special general mahamatra card!

"yes, very good,"

[roseghoul26]

Charles Smith x gn!Reader

"Keeping your hand on his cheek, your lips brushed the shell of his ear. 'Although, I do think you looked rather beautiful.' He practically shuddered, a pleased smile on your mouth as you leaned back again. Keeping only a few inches between your faces, you watched as his eyes flicked down to your lips before returning up. 'Yeah?' You don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice so low." Synopsis: A brush with hypothermia forces you and Charles to camp out in an abandoned cabin. Having to resort to some more intimate means of survival, will you be able to keep your feelings in check for the hunter, or will the proximity force you to confess?

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hypothermia, Huddling for Warmth, yes this is a cuddle for warmth fic, idc if its cheesy, Oral Sex, Gender-Neutral Reader, Fem Anatomy for Reader, Face-Sitting, Love Confessions, but in a twist its not the reader who gets frozen, surprise!

Author's Note: listened to chappell roan the entire time while writing this (hence the title). i also got so distracted by stardew valley my addiction has returned also, there’s a moment where the reader touches charles’ hair. as a non-indigenous person, i’m not fully educated when it comes to hair and the importance it holds in native american culture. i did research, but i could still be wrong. if i have made any errors, please let me know, and i will change it. 

If you never had to see snow again, you’d die happy. 

Tightening the fur coat around your body, you tried to preserve what heat you had left in you. The cold air of Colter was like a leech, sucking you dry of any warmth and joy. And it wasn’t just affecting you, you noticed. Glancing around the room, everyone seemed to be in a similar situation, with as many furs and clothes on their bodies as they huddled around the laughably small fire. 

The gang had been in Colter for about a week, hiding away from the law after the disaster that was Blackwater. You don’t remember much from that day, most of it a blur in your memories, but you remember the bloodshed. Pointless, ruthless bloodshed. You hoped you’d never see something like that again. 

Shivering, you almost regretted giving your extra jacket to Abigail, who had wrapped it around Jack. You were only feet from the fire, but it might as well have been hundreds of miles away with the way it was doing nothing to warm you. With a huff, you rubbed your fingers together, simply sitting and passing the time until someone asked you to do something or you had to go back on guard duty. That was all you could do, really, the snow and remote location making it impossible for you to do your normal robbing and thieving. 

There were many times during this week that you’d debated leaving the gang after you all made it out of Colter. You’d only joined about a year and a half ago, Dutch personally inviting you to his group after hearing about your notoriety across the states. Sure, it was nice to have a group like this, but this wasn’t what you signed up for, especially the events at Blackwater. You were promised opportunity and freedom, not brutality and hiding and cold-blooded murder. You wondered, would it be easy to slip away?

Sighing, you slumped forward, and your  legs were numb from sitting on the hard floor. You were on the precipice of coming to a decision, but there were still some things preventing you from taking the leap. You’d become somewhat close with the members of the gang, your lone wolf attitude dissipating as you created bonds with the others. It was easy to get along with Arthur, the two of you becoming fast friends, frequently doing jobs together. You spent most nights chatting with the girls in camp, chatting until late in the night. You respected Hosea, and even Dutch for some time, the recent events shattering that respect for him. To some degree you’d created a connection with each member of the camp, keeping you tethered to one place. 

There was one person in particular, however, that kept pushing those thoughts of leaving out of your mind. Charles Smith, the taciturn hunter that you’d become weirdly fond of these past few months. You’re not sure what you’d call your relationship with the man. The two of you were friendly, maybe even friends. When Dutch sent you out on jobs together, it always ended well, working together quite decently, if you’d say so yourself. 

Still, you wished you were closer with him, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. You found it hard to try and initiate conversation with him, never quite knowing what to say that wouldn’t make you seem like a fool. And when you would talk to him, it felt like you were just talking at him, but if he was annoyed by you, he never showed. He’d just politely nod along, adding a few words here and there. 

But you knew he didn’t dislike you, finding him frequently looking at you around camp, just silently observing. Whenever you’d catch him, he’d just give you a polite smile, before turning away to do something else. Every time he did it, you found yourself grow bashful, your heart skipping in your chest. His starting was certainly not helping the infatuation you had with him.

Yes, your stupid heart had fallen for him, making it hurt to even entertain the idea of leaving. It was ridiculous and irresponsible to have feelings for him, and you knew that. They’d been there since he joined, and you figured that they would’ve gone away by now, but that was months ago. You’d never met a man like him before, someone so strong and fearsome, yet honorable and kind at the exact same time, and you figured that’s why you were so drawn to him.

Arthur knew about your feelings for the man, drunkley telling him during a night out at the bar in Blackwater a few months ago. He almost said something to Charles, who was somewhere in the same bar that night, claiming that ‘this life is unpredictable’ and ‘you gotta do somethin’ before it’s too late’, but you quickly shut that down with a swift kick to the shins. But that didn’t mean he stopped asking you if you’d done anything yet, and each time you’d respond with ‘no’. 

You knew that Charles didn’t think of you that way. You’re unpredictable, reckless, fiery, everything opposite of what Charles is. Where you were chaos, he was calm. Fire, water. And you didn’t want to ruin what relationship you had with him, so you kept your mouth shut (and never got too drunk around him).

A gust of sharp cold wind and the creak of a door broke you from your thoughts, a shiver wracking your body as you turned to see who just entered the cabin. In some cruel timing from the universe, the man who had just been haunting your mind walked in, a fresh dusting of snow hitting the ground as he shook out his jacket. A chorus of greetings came from the group collected around the fire, a gentle smile coming from you before you turned back to face the fire. Charles calling out your name had you slowly turning to him again. 

“Will you go hunting with me? The deer me and Arthur caught didn’t last as long as we’d hoped.” You now noticed the bow in his hand, along with a small quiver of arrows.

“I mean, sure,” you stood up, your cold muscles aching as you stretched, “but I ain’t much of a hunter, ya know. I usually end up scarin’ away animals instead of catchin’ ‘em. The others might be more well-suited for this.”

“But I’m asking you. And I can’t exactly do it myself.” Charles held the bow and arrows out for you to grab. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” Not like I could ever say no to you, you thought as you took the weapon and slung it over your shoulder, and secured the quiver on your hip. “Let’s go.”

With a nod, Charles opened the door, holding it open to let you step outside into the harsh Colter weather. Wincing at the bright light bouncing off the white snow, you were temporarily blinded as you made your way to where your horses were, Charles not far behind you. A light snowfall came down around you as you walked, not terrible visibility wise, but enough to be obvious. You just hoped that it wouldn’t pick up later. 

There was probably a good foot-and-a-half of snow on the ground, making your movement sluggish and awkward. From what little you knew about tracking, though, it meant that it would be easy to pick up an animal's track, so for that you were somewhat grateful. 

It didn’t take long for you to reach your horses, and you went to mount up, only to notice that your horse just wasn’t there. Spinning around, you looked to see if maybe she got unhitched and wandered somewhere nearby, but there was nothing. Whistling, you waited a few moments, seeing if you’d hear the sound of hoofbeats and winnings, but there was nothing. She was just gone.

As Charles mounted, looking equally as confused as you were, you turned and  looked to see who was currently on guard duty, thinking maybe they had seen something. “Javier!” You called out, the poor man nearly jumping out of his skin at the sudden loud noise. “Where’s Hera?”

“Arthur took her!” He shouted back, and you couldn’t help groaning in annoyance. I’m gonna kill you, Arthur Morgan. 

“And you let him?” Javier had made his way over to you now, and you saw him open his mouth to respond, but you stopped him with a wave. “Nevermind, it’s not your fault or your responsibility. I’m just… frustrated.” You took a deep breath, and a cloud left your lips as you exhaled.  “Where’d Arthur go?” You heard the ground crunch behind you as Charles approached on Taima. 

“I dunno,” Javier shrugged. “Him, Dutch, Micah, and Bill went out a few minutes ago, he’s been borrowing everyone else’s horse since his died. Guess it was Hera’s turn.”

“Well, shit,” you sighed, crossing your arms. “You don’t reckon they’ll be back soon, right? Maybe they forgot somethin’?” You missed the way Charles let out an amused huff, your back facing him as you conversed with Javier. 

Javier lightly chuckled. “Look, if you need to go, I’ll let you use Boaz for a bit. It’s not like I’ll be needing him for a bit,” he gestured to the repeater currently in his hands. “If anything happens to him though…” he threatened, gesturing again to the weapon in his hands.

You were about to respond, but Charles beat you to it. “Or you could ride with me. If you’d like.”

You tried to keep your face neutral as you turned to respond, but you had to stop and glare at Javier who was sniggering. Apparently your facial expressions weren’t as subtle as you believed. Thank God you had your back turned, then. 

You turned again, and when you weren't so rudely interrupted by Javier’s childish antics, you responded to Charles. “Are you sure?”

He extended his non-injured hand to you as he nodded. “We gotta get moving though. Only a few hours of sunlight left.”

“Alright.” You linked your hand with his, letting him help you on to the back of his horse with ease. Javier had long since left, already halfway back to his guard post, not before giving you a knowing smile. As you wrapped your hands around his waist, you tried and failed to keep your breathing even, your heartrate picking up substantially. 

Sighing, you refrained from resting your head against his back. This was pure torture, but you knew you were going to enjoy it.

Thank you, Arthur Morgan… I’m still gonna kill you, though. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

He wasn’t quite sure why he offered to let you ride with him on Taima; he was just making it harder for himself to stay away from you. He scolded himself, because someone else had your heart, and he would just end up hurting his own if he kept doing things like this. 

The two of you had sped out of Colter, Charles setting a brisk pace that made the air bite at his skin. The pain was good, as it distracted him from thinking of you. You, who subconsciously shifted closer to him to shield yourself from the air. He felt you adjust behind him until his larger frame was shielding you entirely. 

He expected you to have started talking by now, making some comment about the weather or cursing Arthur out. When you didn’t he felt himself start to grow a bit panicked. Did I make you uncomfortable? Is this too much?

He kept his voice steady, and he gently called out your name. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“I figure that must come as a relief.” 

I could listen to you for hours, he thought. I don’t ever want to stop hearing your voice. “Are you alright?”

He felt you shift behind him, your hands tightening where they sat on his waist. Your touch wasn’t even improper, yet he still found his breath hitching in his throat. Charles just prayed that the howling winds around the two of you drowned it out. “I think so. It just… this place is really terrible.” When he nodded in agreement, you continued. “And I’ve got a lot on my mind. Blackwater, the gang, my future… It's a little bit overwhelming.”

“Do you…  want to talk about it?” He offered, and you sighed. 

“I… I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout Blackwater, ‘bout everything we did wrong, what we should’ve done differently, the choices we made. But I especially can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout that girl that Dutch murdered. The way he killed her, no mercy or falter, I ain’t even seen nothin’ like that from him before. Or maybe I chose to look away before…” you trailed off.

“You’re not the one who pulled the trigger. Dutch is the only person guilty of that.”

“Maybe I didn’t pull the trigger, but I’m sure as hell ain’t innocent. I could’ve- should’ve done somethin’. There was plenty of time for me to.”

“Don’t go beating yourself up about the past. The only thing we can hope to do is learn from it and continue on towards the future.”

“But the future is just as terrifying as the past! I’m scared for the gang, for its future. We’ve become so bloodthirsty, and now all Dutch talks about is revenge.” Your voice was becoming more and more distressed. “Is that what we’ve turned into? A bunch of no-good killers who think with their guns? I ain’t- I don’t wanna be that. That ain’t what I joined up for.”

Charles didn’t know how to respond to that. He’d noticed that shift in the gang over the last few weeks, the members become quicker to jump to violence and bloodshed. He wasn’t a saint, the blood on his hands equal to yours, but he was even becoming disturbed by the amount of unnecessary killings happening. 

“I’m thinkin’ ‘bout leaving.” Your voice was barely a whisper, like you were ashamed to say it. Charles stilled, shock running through his system. “Once we get out of here. This… this isn’t what I wanna do. I don’t wanna be associated with the Van Der Linde gang if it’s gonna continue heaidn’ in the direction it’s goin’. And I don’t wanna find myself at the end of a lawman’s barrel, noose ‘round my neck.”

“Oh.” Charles found himself at an impasse; did he just keep his mouth shut, or say something that might reveal too much? If you truly wanted to leave, then he didn’t want to guilt you into staying by revealing his true feelings. He understood why you wanted to leave, those same thoughts frequenting his mind as well, but he’d found a reason to stay: you. He hadn't told Arthur that when he asked why Charles was still hanging around a few days ago. His conversation with the other man when they hunted had solidified his stay with the gang, for better or for worse.

Did you feel the same way? You fool, Charles chastised himself. They don’t want you that way.

“Does anyone else know?” 

“No,” you sighed. “You’re the only one.”

A selfish part of him was glad that he was the only one that knew, but he quickly pushed those thoughts away. “Well,” he began, “the only thing I can say is to not do something that you’ll regret… and just know that there’s a lot of people here that will really miss you if you decide to leave.” I will miss you so much that it hurts.

He felt your head connect with his back as you slumped forward, and he jolted at the contact. “Why can’t you just make the decision for me, Charles? I trust your judgment.”

Stay. Please, stay, he screamed in his head. “I can’t tell you what to do, how to live your life. Unfortunately, the decision comes to you,” was his reply. 

“You’re right. You’re always right, Charles,” you laughed half-heartedly. “I haven’t made up my mind yet. Still got a ways until I have to.”

“Whatever decision you come to, I’ll support you.” Liar. “Just… don’t leave without saying goodbye, you hear?”

“I promise. Now,” your usual chipperness returned to your voice, “where are we headin’?”

He explained that he was taking the two of you to Lake Isabella, following the Spider Gorge down. The lake had started to melt, meaning animals were more likely to start coming out as the weather warmed. As the two of you rode, you kept close to him, significantly closer than you were when you left. 

Charles pretended not to notice.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

There wasn’t much to look at on the ride down. Everything was white, splashes of black rock breaking up the monotonous landscape, and the occasional tree made itself known. There weren’t any animals, not even a rabbit. It was like you and Charles were the only living souls in the area.

You only spotted a couple of buildings, two of them a small cabin that could house one or two people. One was absolutely destroyed, time and weather causing the ceiling to collapse in, only a skeleton remaining. The other still stood, smoke coming out of the chimney, but you had no idea if the occupants were home or not. 

Taking a mental note of the building, before returning your attention back forward. Charles seemed to be content with just riding in silence, so you settled against him, your head nearly resting on his shoulder. You hadn’t meant to spill so much to Charles, and you certainly hadn’t meant to tell him that you thought about leaving. It’s just that you felt so comfortable with him that you couldn’t help the words from coming out, and you felt ten pounds lighter because of it. 

You didn’t want to drag another person into your troubles, especially over something so trivial in comparison to what the rest of the gang was going through. A part of you wanted this to be the moment in all those cheesy romances you read where the love interest confesses their feelings in order to make the main character stay. But this was real life, and this was Charles you were talking about, the man who would put everyone’s needs before his, even if it hurt. And besides, Charles had never done or said anything that gave you the impression that he had feelings for you. From what you could tell, he saw you as a friend, and nothing else.

Right?

God, you were so desperate for the man you held on to. 

He made no comment when you did actually rest your head on his shoulder. If he did ask why, you’d just say you were cold. You knew you just wanted to pretend that he was yours. 

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. It did little to calm your erratic heart. 

Eventually, the partially frozen Lake Isabella came into view. This area wasn’t too unfamiliar to either you or Charles, having been there a few days prior to dispatch a group of O’Driscolls. Having opened your eyes a few moments prior, you were able to make out a few deer drinking from the newly exposed lake water. You gestured to them, but Charles had already seen them, bringing Taima to a halt behind a large bush.

By this time, the snow had begun to pick up, the sheets coming down obscuring your view ever so slightly. But it wasn’t enough to force you indoors. 

Dismounting as quietly as you could, you readied the bow in your hands, letting Charles lead the way as he snuck closer to them. It was almost supernatural, the way he was able to move so silently. For someone of his stature, you’d never expect him to be able to move so quietly and with such ease, yet here he was. You tried your best to move like him, taking a bit longer as you followed in his footsteps. Charles led you around the edge of the lake, the shore edge mere inches from your feet, occasionally splashing against your shoes. 

Luckily, the deer hadn’t noticed either you or Charles, still drinking without a care in the world. He had stopped by now, moving to the side to let you move ahead. The deer were in range by now, and you only needed to move a few feet closer, making you halt underneath a large tree. The branches drooped under the weight of the snow, a few globs falling off and hitting the ground around you. 

Weirdly enough, you felt at peace. Not because of the hunting, but because of the man who stood a few yards behind you. You felt safe under his gaze, like nothing could hurt you. As you drew the arrow back, you let out a confused noise as the deer suddenly scattered, spooked by something you couldn’t see. 

You turned to look back at Charles, but you realized then that you probably shouldn't've had your guard down so much. A large weight dropped on you from the tree, too heavy and too warm to be just snow. You let out a startled cry, blocking out Charles shouting out your name, panic seeping into his voice. 

Whatever fell on you landed on your back, your face pressed in the snow as you lay on your stomach. It clicked now that there was someone on you, a hand yanking your head back by your hair, warm breath assaulting your face as your attacker spoke. You couldn’t quite make out what exactly he was saying, snow and shock causing your hearing to be spotty. All you were able to make out were a few curses, the word “kill” multiple times, and some racist phrases aimed toward Charles.

Even before the initial shock had worn off, you were fighting back, squirming and moving desperately against the man’s grip. He just laughed, then you heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. He rested the barrel against the back of your neck, the cold metal pressing against the exposed skin. Dread washed over you, numbing your senses far beyond what the cold could do. With the way the man gripped your head, you couldn’t move it, and you strained your eyes as you looked around, desperate to find Charles. Is he alright? Please, let him be alright. 

You saw a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye, and as soon as the weight was on you, it was gone. An alarmed yell left your attacker as he was tackled off of you, being pushed a fair distance before falling onto the frozen Lake Isabella. Rolling over, your hand fell into the cold water, and you quickly pulled it back.

Standing as quickly as you could, the world spun for a moment, your body confused with the many different orientations you were just in. Pressing your back against the tree for stability, you watched as Charles and your attacker rolled far across the ice. You saw the distinct green handkerchief around his neck, and you couldn’t help the exasperated groan that left you. No matter where you went or what you did, you couldn’t escape the O’Driscolls. 

Shouts from behind you had you spinning around, quickly drawing your revolver, the bow long since discarded on the ground. Three more O’Driscolls came running from the woods, only a few yards away from you now, their cries of alarm coming from the two bodies of their members lying in the snow, which you had just noticed. Keeping your aim steady, you took three shots, the gunshots cracking through the still air. The first one hit right in the heart, the second one finding a home between his eyes, and the third one hit the final O’Driscoll right above the shoulder, merely grazing the skin, and the only non-fatal shot. Still, it caused all three of them to hit the snow.

With the final man falling relatively close to you, you ran over to him. Pulling him up by the scruff of his shirt, you held your revolver right below his chin, the hot metal burning his skin. He could not have been more than eighteen years old, a sliver of childhood innocence still left in his eyes as he stared up at you, fear and pain rendering him mute. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You snarled, pressing the barrel harder into his skin. “Gimme one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right here, boy?”

Your words seemed to go in one ear and out the other, a few tears leaving him as he stared at you blankly. He was shaking, and you wondered how long he’d run with the O’Driscolls for. He was obviously young, and if this was his reaction to being held at gunpoint, you gathered that he didn’t have a whole lot of outlaw experience under his belt. Against every instinct in your body telling you otherwise, you felt yourself loosen your grip on the boy, a pang of sympathy running through you. 

Sighing in exasperation, you holster your gun, a relieved noise leaving him as you did. Glancing forward, you saw two horses hitched to the trees, seemingly the rides that they came in on. “Go,” you waved. “You ain’t even grown.”

“Th-thank you!” He nearly wept, getting to his feet shakily. 

“But if I ever see ya again, especially as a damn O’Driscoll,” your hand hovered above your weapon. “I’ll not hesitate to put a bullet in your head. You hear me?”

“Y-yes.” He clutched at his shoulder. 

“Now go!” you shouted. “Get outta here! Before I change my mind.” As soon as he sped off toward the horses, you turned back toward the lake. Charles stood above your attacker, beating the life out of the man, his face pure crimson. He was using his injured hand, but he paid it no mind. Blow after blow, Charles’s strikes hit true, the thuds echoing across the water.

You really should not have found it as attractive as you did. 

You let yourself watch for a few moments longer, before you were snapping out of it. “Charles!” You called out. Immediately, he was looking up at you, the man below him no longer even on his mind. Wiping away a smear of blood on his cheek, he slowly made his way toward you, his steps slow across the ice. 

Concern etched across his features as his eyes raked over your body, looking for any injury or hurt on you. “Are you alright?” You asked, trying your best to push down the flush of your cheeks as he stalked towards you. He had an almost murderous glint in his eye, his movement predatory; you especially should not have found that attractive. 

“Did he hurt you?” He completely brushed off your question, his eyes wide with panic. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this disheveled and worried before. 

“Only my pride.” You sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Charles opened his mouth to respond, but was promptly cut off when the ground beneath him gave way, the weakened ice no longer strong enough to hold him. Immediately, he was submerged under the water, but luckily he was close enough to the shore that it wasn’t too deep. He reemerged seconds later, sputtering and coughing. 

As soon as you heard the crack of the ice, you were running toward the edge, stepping precariously on the ice. In retrospect, it wasn’t the smartest idea, especially when you started walking towards where Charles fell through, but at the time you didn’t care. All that mattered was getting him out. 

Scanning around, you quickly assessed the best way to save him. The hole that was created was way big enough so he could get his arm up, but as soon as he pressed at the ice it shattered, unable to hold anything. As you stepped closer, you felt it begin to break as well, and you quickly moved back to the shore. 

“Fuck…” your hands went to you head, your gloved fingers pulling at your hair. A large stick from the tree you assaulted jumped down from sparked an idea. Grabbing it, you started chipping away at the ice, smashing and breaking it until a path big enough for Charles to go through was created. Standing at the shore, however, you realized  that neither your arms or the stick was long enough to reach the man, who was starting to get dragged down from the weight of the water in his clothes. 

Quickly unhooking your lasso from your belt, you created a loop for him to grab on to, throwing it at him with an accuracy from years and years of practice. It landed right in front of him, and he grabbed on to it as quickly as he could, his movement sluggish. Wrapping it around your hands, you began to pull him to shore. “Hold on!” you shouted at him, and he let out a noise in response. You’d take that over nothing.

It wasn’t incredibly hard to pull him closer, the water helping carry him over. But once he got to the shore, and you discarded the rope, pulling him up onto the land proved to be almost impossible. Grabbing underneath his arms, you pulled with all the strength you had, the muscles in your back and shoulders crying out in pain, but you paid them no mind. It took an incredible amount of effort, but eventually he was fully out of the water, laying splayed out in the cold snow. 

You didn’t let yourself get a moment to recover, instantly running over to his side. Turning his head toward you, you let out a sigh of relief when you say his eyes flutter open. He was absolutely drenched, his heavy winter gear made even heavier with water, and you watched him begin to shake and his teeth begin to shatter. And, if your luck wasn’t already terrible enough, a full on snowstorm had started, causing cold blasts of snow and wind to pelt your bodies. Chalres shivered even harder, and you let out helped sit him upright. “We gotta get you indoors, and soon. You ain’t gonna-” a lump formed in your throat at the thought. “It ain’t gonna be good for you if you stay out here. I’ll need your help, though. I can’t lift you on my own. Just… just find what energy you can to get up. Please.” You couldn’t help the panic in your voice. To say you were scared would be an understatement. 

You’re not quite sure he fully comprehended what you said, but he started to get up, and you forced him to lean a bit of his body weight against you as he did so. When he was up, you slung his arm over your shoulder, nearly sagging under his weight as he nearly collapsed. You called for Taima, whistlin the same pattern you’d heard Charles use for her. 

Within seconds, the sound of neighing and hoofbeats filled your ears, his loyal steed coming to a halt right in front of the two of you. She let out a worried snort, and you reassured her with some soothing noises. “Alright, Charles. Here comes the worst part.” It took quite a bit of maneuvering and effort, but after a minute Charles sat where you did on the ride there. 

His eyes, which were onced unfocused and confused, had regained some clarity to them, and you heard him mutter out your name. You smiled as reassuringly as you could, before you were mounting up on Taima, sitting in the saddle and the reins in your hands. “Hold on, darlin’.” You were too panicked to notice the name slip out, and you took the gasp from Charles as being from the cold. 

With little urging, Taima moved forward, almost immediately breaking into a gallop. You led her back up the trail, heading toward the cabin you saw on the way down. It would take too long to return back to Colter, and with the way the storm raged around you, you doubted either of you would be able to make it. 

As you rode, you felt Charles slump against you, exhaustion taking over his body. You reached behind with one hand, grabbing his knee and shaking him awake. “I know you hate me right now, but I need you to stay awake for me… please.”

He grumbled something in reply, his speech slurred and indecipherable. 

“I’m gonna talk at you, like I always do,” you tried to joke. “And you’re gonna do what you do, which is nod along and pretend you care. Just… just stay awake. You hear me?”

“I care…” you heard him protest, and you just shook your head.

“Uh-huh.” The wind was biting into your cheeks, and your eyes were watering, but you didn’t dare slow. You filled the couple minute ride with your voice, telling stories of your childhood, or random anecdotes you’d picked up from your travels, to recounting the bar fight you’d gotten into a few weeks prior. Charles, despite being exhausted, kept alert, giving one-word responses from time to time. 

He shivered the entire time, and you couldn’t tell if that was worrying or comforting. Panic was steadily bubbling in your chest, finding it hard to keep focus on your stories. Halfway through the ride, much like you did, he rested his head on your shoulder, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. You suppressed a surprised noise as you felt the freezing skin against your own, his nose and lips unnervingly cold. 

“Stay with me, Charles.”

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

It was cold. 

Everything was cold.

Could hair get cold? It sure felt like it. Charles had never felt such coldness in his life before, and he never wanted to experience it again.

He should’ve never gone on to the ice, his brain was screaming at him.

But he had led with his heart, shoving the man off you and following him on to the ice. As soon as he had seen you go down, the other man on top of you, it was like time had slowed down. He had seen red, the two men attempting to hold him down quickly meeting their ends at the hands of his fury. 

He prided himself on being able to keep calm in situations, his anger rarely ever taking a hold of him, and it had never happened since he joined the gang. Guess that streak was broken now. Not that he had any regrets.

Well, he had a few.

He should’ve registered the footprints in the snow leading up to the base of the tree. He should’ve noticed something was wrong, should’ve not been so distracted by you. He should’ve said something.

Maybe none of this would’ve happened then.

But he’s just a man, and man is selfish. He was glad this happened.

Without this happening, he wouldn’t have his arms wrapped around your body, his face buried into your neck breathing you in. Without this, you wouldn’t have called him darling, causing his heart to thump erratically in his chest. Without this, he wouldn’t have been able to pretend right now that you and him were more than friends, a fantasy that he had played out a million times in his dreams.

You were talking to him, but he couldn’t make the words out. A shiver wracked his body, and he burrowed deeper. God, he was so cold. And so tired.It would be so easy to just close his eyes, to let unconsciousness wash over him… 

He was jolted awake by a hearty shake of his knee, and he heard your voice break through the fog of his brain. 

You had such a lovely voice. He hated how worried it sounded, and all because of him. Or maybe he was happy you were worried about him. He couldn’t tell. Everything was unclear. The only thing he was certain about was the fuzzy feeling in his chest that grew with each glance and each soft word from you.

He was in love with you.

Stupidly in love, in fact. 

He couldn’t stop himself, the words tumbling from his lips like a freefall. But it came out as gibberish, and he felt you shake your head, unable to comprehend him.

That’s alright. He’d repeat it as many times as you needed. 

And as another shiver tore through him, he felt you rub his thigh reassuringly. Despite the thick material of your gloves, he could feel the warmth of your skin, practically burning against his frosty skin. The butterflies in his chest bubbled to life, and he couldn’t stop the small laugh he let out. 

He was infatuated.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The short ride felt like forever, the monotonous landscape that had once been soothing now tormenting you as you searched for the cabin you saw prior. The smoke trail was impossible to spot out in the snowstorm, so you used what limited navigation skills you had to get you there. 

Eventually, the frame of the cabin broke through the sheet of snow, and you nearly cried in relief. You were starting to freeze, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine how Charles was feeling. Taima huffed as you brought her alongside the entrance, the steam from her snout dissipating instantly. Quickly dismounting, Charles nearly fell off when you moved, slowly slipping into unconsciousness. 

“Oh, no you don’t,” you snarled, roughly shaking him awake. Yes, you were threatening the hypothermic man. No, you did not care. You were almost inside, and you were not going to lose him. “Do not pass out on me, Charles Smith. Now, let’s get you off Taima.”

Charles muttered out an apology, his eyes reopening as he struggled to get off. His clothes were starting to solidify, clumps of ice forming across his jacket. You helped as best you could, catching him when his feet made contact with the ground, nearly sending you both to the snow. Again, you slung his arm over your shoulder, your other arm holding your gun as you entered the cabin, ready to clear out any homeowners. 

A blast of heat hit both of you as you creaked the door open slowly, and you heard Charles sigh with relief. A quick scan around proved that it was empty, and you gently set Chalres in front of the still burning fire. You realized now that the occupants were probably some of the O’Driscolls that just jumped you, and the cabin now stood empty for you and Charles. Relaxing slightly, you put away your gun, then added a few more logs to the fire pit, the flames lapping at the wood eagerly. 

To call the cabin small would be an understatement. It was large enough to fit both you and Charles comfortably, but you can’t imagine that the few O’Driscolls camping here temporarily had a lot of legroom . A single twin sized bed was lined up against the wall, cloth and other materials covering the windows beside it. There was a fireplace, a small stewpot, a nightstand, and a chair. Extra sleeping bags and rugs adorned the floor, a few cans of fruits and vegetables scattered across the floor. You saw the occasional empty bottle of alcohol, and you even found a pack of cigarettes. 

Charles seemed to wake some, the warmth of the fire breathing some life back into him. You saw him look around, body still shaking. He looked even worse than you thought, his normally warm-toned skin devoid of any color, and his hair was plastered to his face. As you crouched down in front of him, you went to push back a few strands, your gloves long since discarded, but you refrained. 

“A-Are you alright?” You heard him ask again through chattering teeth, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Even though he saw freezing, likely suffering from hypothermia, he was more worried about your well being.

“I’m not the one who fell into the freezing lake. What were you thinking?” You weren’t angry, your words surprisingly gentle despite the fear in your heart. 

“I-I wasn’t… I-” his body cut him off, shivers wracking his body. 

“We gotta get these clothes off of you,” you picked at the offending garment, the material barely budging. You started to work the heavy coat off his shoulders, the roaring wind outside the only noise.

Suddenly, Charles was grabbing at your wrist, stalling your movement. You were halfway done with taking it off, the water melting off of it coating your hands. “Taima…” you heard him say.

“I’ll go make sure she’s secure,” you quickly rose to your feet. “Just get undressed. We need to get you warmed up.”

Stepping outside, the gusts hitting your body caused you to let out a curse. Taima was  still where you left her, stomping impatiently in the ground, shaking out her coat as she tried to keep warm. When you clicked your tongue, she came prancing over, ready to get out of the wind. 

You led her to the attached stall, which was in pretty decent condition. It blocked out a lot of the wind, and it shared a wall with the fireplace, letting some of the warmth to the horses as well. There was some hay left scattered on the ground, and you took off her saddle, setting it on the stand. You left the horse blanket on, giving her some extra protection. 

When you were done, you moved to leave, and you felt Taima brush affectionately against your head, nuzzling her snout into your shoulder. Laughing, you pet her neck affectionately before she removed herself to continue eating at the hay. Making sure the gate was secure, you headed back into the cabin. 

Charles was still undressing when you entered, his back to you. Even his undershirt was soaked through, the material clinging to his body like a second skin. It was at that point it clicked that the man you were infatuated with was going to be bare before you soon. You found yourself turning away, uncharacteristically embarrassed, shrugging off your own jacket and laying across the back of the chair. If it was any other person, you’d’ve not reacted this way, your lifestyle not allowing for much privacy. But of course it had to be Charles getting undressed in front of you, and you found yourself growing quite warm. 

Taking the lasso from your belt, you strung it across the room, making a makeshift clothesline to hopefully dry his clothes faster. His jacket, which was a wet pile of fur, was the first to be hung up, the rope creaking precariously under the weight. Luckily, it held, and you added each new item as he took it off. 

You made sure not to look directly at Charles, and you saw in your peripheral vision as he worked off his shirt. Your throat was suddenly dry, hands shaky as you continued to hang items up. Why, out of all people, did it have to be Charles? It was like God was tormenting you, giving you what, but keeping it just out of reach. 

You must’ve made a noise, because Charles was turning toward you, concerned. You finally let yourself look at him. He was partially done unbuttoning his shirt, the collar open, but you saw that he was struggling with the small buttons, his fingers barely working. “May I?” you asked, gesturing toward his shirt. The sooner he was out of the wet garment, the better.

He paused for a second, contemplating. “Yes,” he consented, lowering his hand at his side. Stepping forward, your hands resumed his work, quickly undoing the rest of it. Do not make a big deal of this, you repeated in your mind. You were simply helping a friend not die from hypothermia, not unbuttoning the shirt of the person you were hopelessly in love with. He shrugged it off, practically peeling it from his body. You were especially careful to only look him in the eye now, not daring to look at his newly exposed chest. 

Turning your back to him to hang up the shirt, the unmistakable clang of his belt hitting the floor had you stilling. Exhaling shakily, you heard him take off the remainder of his clothes, all making themselves comfortable on the floor. You didn’t dare turn around to grab them. Instead, you headed towards the bed, pulling off the heavy duvet. Walking backwards, you held it out to him behind you. You heard him murmur out a small thanks, taking the blanket from your outstretched arms. 

You gave him a few moments. “Are you… decent?” you asked, keeping your gaze up even with your back turned. When he gave a noise of confirmation, you finally turned back around. After situating his discarded clothing, you gathered some of the canned goods strewn about before setting your boots next to Charles’ beside the fire. You sat down next to him on the various furs and bedrolls. Charles had the blanket wrapped around his body, and you tried really hard to not concentrate on the fact that he was completely bare under the duvet. 

You opened one of the cans with your knife, tossing the lid of it behind you and handing it to the man beside you. “Eat. You need to get your strength up.” You saw him open his mouth to protest, but you cut him off before he could. “There’s plenty of food for the both of us. Now, eat.” You pushed the can of what looked to be sweetcorn in his hand, and he finally took it, tipping it back into his mouth and eating slowly. 

He was still shivering, but he was slowly becoming more and more alert, and his teeth had ceased their chattering. Quickly finishing the can of food, he placed the empty can beside him, rubbing his hands together beneath the blanket. You were looking into the fire, and you could feel his eyes on you. He didn’t say anything, just observing you like he normally did. 

This time, however, it felt like his eyes were picking you apart, like he could see every secret beneath your skin. Clearing your throat, you stood up, gathering up the remainder of his clothing and hanging them up. You were scared that the longer you sat by him, the likelihood of you having to confront your secrets would increase tenfold. “You need anythin’? More food? Water? Coffee?” You asked, drying your hands on your pants. 

“I’m g-good,” he responded. 

“Have you warmed up at all?” He shrugged in response, the action barely noticeable with the heavy blanket around his shoulders. You didn’t bother to hide the concerned frown on your lips as you crouched beside him. Running the back of your hand, you winced when you were met with deathly cold skin. “Shit…” you cursed, pulling your hand away, and you failed to notice Charles chasing after your warmth.

Standing up, you began to pace the room, trying to keep the dread you felt at bay. Your mind was running wild with thoughts, all ending in worse case scenarios. Taking a deep breath, you tried your best to keep calm, just for Charles’ sake. You wouldn’t do him any good if you were freaking out. You tried to think back on the basic first aid you’d learned through the years. Most of the things you’d already done, like getting him out of wet clothing, getting him food, getting him in front of a fire. Was there anything else you could do? Or did you just have to sit and wait and pray that what you did was enough.

You knew Charles was watching you pace, doing nothing to calm your racing heart. You ran your fingers through your hair, a gasp leaving your lips when you finally remembered. Body heat, which means… oh. 

Goddamn it all. 

You hoped you didn’t look too alarmed. It’s not that you were opposed to the idea, but it would make it significantly harder to bottle up your feelings. In fact, doing this might just smash the bottle all together, causing you to spill your heart to him. “So…” you began nervously. How the hell were you supposed to ask this?

“So…?” Charles repeated, raising a brow. 

“I-I… well…” you ran your hand over your face. The wall was looking quite interesting right now. “I was wondering if you’d like… I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anythin’... if you’d like for me to share my warmth?” That sounds so weird. “It’s just, you’re not gettin’ any better… and I don’t want anythin’ to happen to you. I couldn’t bear it.” The last part you whispered, and you doubted he even heard it. 

Something flickered across Charles’ face, too quick for you to recognize. He looked conflicted, and you chewed nervously on your lips. Did I cross a line? Oh God, did I make this weird? He’s gonna hate me-

“I’d like that,” his voice cut off your minds’ rambling. 

Letting out a breath of relief, you gave him a small smile, which he returned. Okay, this is happening. Again, do not make a big deal of this. This means nothing. Your hands, which weren’t steady, began to work at your button up. Charles slowly looked away, his eyes darkening slightly. “I’m not gonna take everythin’ off,” you reassured, taking the look in his eye as concern. Taking your gun belt off and setting it on the bed, your pants and socks were off next, joining the belt, leaving you in only your undergarments. 

Slowly, you approached him, your steps uncertain across the bedrolls and furs. You tried to keep calm, but the reality of what was going to happen quite soon was causing your heart to pound against your ribs. He watched you approach, head turned back around. You couldn't imagine it was comfortable for his neck, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Finally, you stood in front of him, partially blocking the fire, which caused your shadow to cast over Charles. Without breaking eye contact with you, he pulled the blanket back, inviting you in. Your shadow, thankfully, blocked out any newly revealed skin, but you still found a blush creeping up your neck. 

Without giving yourself a chance to back out, you sat yourself on his lap. With your legs wrapping around his hips, your ankles were barely able to interlock. His following sigh sounded pleased, and you found yourself smiling as he wrapped the blanket around the two of you, creating something akin to a cocoon. He kept his hands braced on the ground beside him, refraining from touching you.

Charles was indeed freezing, and you let out a discontent noise at the contact. “Sorry,” you more felt than heard him say, your faces mere inches apart. 

“I should be the one who’s sayin’ that…” you sighed, and you rested your hands on his shoulders, beginning the process of warming his body back to a normal temperature. “I should’ve been payin’ better attention, then we would’ve never ended up in this mess.” Not that I’m complaining too much. 

The two of you sat together for a few minutes, letting Charles simply enjoy your body heat. “I don’t think either of us were expecting an O’Driscoll to come falling out of a tree.” You heard him say.

“It certainly wasn’t on my list of things to happen today,” you laughed, your hands moving down his shoulders to his biceps. Having him under your touch like this really put into perspective his sheer size. “And neither is this. Any of this. I’m sure you weren’t plannin’ on takin’ a bath in Lake Isabella today.”

“Can’t say I was. But, you-” Charles cut himself off, his eyes widening the tiniest bit. If you weren’t so close, you probably wouldn’t have noticed. You gave him a confused look, and he just shook his head. “It’s nothing. I almost said something foolish,” he tried to dismiss, embarrassment evident on his face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say somethin’ foolish the entire time I’ve known you.” You tugged at one of his arms, bringing it between your bodies after he shifted his weight on to the other arm. You clasp his uninjured hand between yours, blowing hot air and trying your best to return some life back to the ice cubes that were his fingers. “You know I ain’t gonna tease you for what you say, right?”

“I know,” Charles sighed, but he didn’t elaborate further. You didn’t push, not wanting to wreck this moment between the two of you. You felt him flex his fingers between yours, a relieved noise leaving him as more feeling returned to them. Eventually, you let go of his hand, but it seemed like he didn’t quite know where to put it, hovering a few inches above your waist before returning back to the ground. “You can touch me, Charles.”

You held back a content noise when you finally felt him grasp your waist, his fingers resting on the waistband of your undergarments. Occasionally, his fingers would brush your bare skin, your undershirt having rid up when you had sat down, and you felt goosebumps erupt across your skin. 

Moving to his injured hand, you eyed the now wrecked bandage, blood and water causing the material to practically dissolve. You tsked disapprovingly, and began to peel off the old wrapping, discarding them across the cabin. You were expecting to see the wound completely reopened, especially because of the punches he threw at the O’Driscoll, but were pleasantly surprised to find a pretty much healed injury. It was slightly irritated, sure, but it must’ve been healed for at least a day or two.

“And here I was scared that we’d have to chop off your hand,” you joked, flipping his arm over as you examined the now scar. “This has been healed for a day or two now. You’re probably only gonna have a light scar from this.” Realization dawned on you, and you chuckled. “Charles, you could’ve gone huntin’ on your own today.”

“I could’ve.” He didn’t even bother trying to deny it. “Still, I did want to do it with you, but I could’t just ask. I needed an excuse.”

“You never need an excuse, Charles. I’ll gladly go huntin’ with you, injured hand or not.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You felt him squeeze your hip gently, a playful grin on his face. It had your stomach doing somersaults, and you tore your eyes away to begin warming up his other hand. It was strange, seeing him so carefree like this. It was a look you’d never really seen on him, but you rather enjoyed it. “Only hunting?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you teased, drawing out the syllables. “Whatcha have in mind?”

“Not quite sure yet. But it’ll just be us.”

“Like a date?” You joked, trying not to sound too hopeful. 

“Sure. Like a date.”

A giddy smile cracked across your lips, and you gingerly kissed the back of Charles’ hand before letting it go, where it immediately joined his other by settling on your waist. Your ears were burning, a flustered blush growing across your body. Here you were, sitting on a naked Charles’ lap, only the thin material of your undergarments separating the two of you, but the thing that made you bashful was him asking you on a date. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you rested your head on his shoulder. You felt him chuckle, the hands on your waist moving up your back, keeping your body pressed close to him. The digits were still a bit chilled, but you didn’t mind. The blanket around the two of you was barely hanging on at this point, and you tried your best to keep it around him. Like he did on the horse, you felt him bury his face in the crook where your neck and shoulders connected. 

Although it was significantly less cold than the last time, you still shivered at the contact. You felt his lips brush against the skin, and you could barely feel the light kiss he pressed there, gone in an instant. So many thoughts and emotions were running through your mind at that moment. You mostly felt relieved, your feelings for the man no longer feeling so one-sided. Your mind was so loud, in fact, that you barely heard him mumble something against your skin. You realized that he was thanking you, and you responded with a confused noise.

“You saved my life today. Twice. I haven’t thanked you yet.”

“I wouldn’t’ve just left you, Charles. I couldn’t. I…” you trailed off, a confession ready to leave your lips. The bottle had cracked, its contents spilling out as you tried to damndest to keep it all contained. “If I remember correctly, you also saved me today. Nothin’ good would’ve happened if you weren’t there today.”

You felt him tense, an almost pained sound leaving him. “When I saw you like that… I don’t ever want to see that again.”

You moved back so that you could see him again, and you cupped the side of his face with your hand, relieved to find the skin significantly warmer than it was moments ago. “I’m alright. Thanks to you, I’m safe.” 

He relaxed slightly, but his eyes were filled with so much sadness that it had you frowning. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared before,” he whispered, resting his own hand atop yours. “The best thing in my life, and I almost lost it today.” Both of you seemed surprised by his words, but you didn’t let him backtrack.

“But you didn’t. You are the one who got that man off me, and showed him the error of his ways.”

He chuckled at that, but then another frown adorned his lips. “I didn’t… unsettle you, right? I… I saw your eyes widen after you called me off him. You’re not-”

“Never. I know you’d never hurt me.”

Relieved, you felt him go fully lax under your touch. His whole body had returned to a normal temperature, you noted, the heat under the blanket beginning to become sweltering. With your thumb, you stroked his cheek, feeling the raised skin of the scar across his cheek. He let go of your hand, moving it back to the ground to keep the two of you propped up as you leaned forward. The duvet fell slightly, exposing his shoulder to the air, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Keeping your hand on his cheek, your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Although, I do think you looked rather beautiful.”

He practically shuddered, a pleased smile on your mouth as you leaned back again. Keeping only a few inches between your faces, you watched as his eyes flicked down to your lips before returning up. “Yeah?” You don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice so low.

You nodded, the fingers on his cheek moving to brush a few strands away from his face. His eyes were dark, pupils blown out but not because of the low light. “I always think you look beautiful,” you murmured. 

He hummed in response, and you felt the hand on your back creek up, resting at the nape of your neck. He didn’t pull you forward, he just held you. “Next to you, however, I imagine I look quite plain.”

“Oh, hush,” you chided while smiling. 

“I’m serious.” You felt him play with the hair at your neck, fingers running lightly through the strands. “It’s distracting, how beautiful you are. Whenever I walk into a room and you’re in there, you’re the first thing I look at, and I can never bring myself to look away. At night at camp, you look so at ease, the fire illuminates your face in a way that makes you look ethereal. I can do nothing but watch you, too stunned to speak. You plague every waking thought, and you haunt my dreams. You’ve unknowingly burrowed yourself into my heart, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You were at a loss for words, your mouth moving but no words actually came out. Choosing to ignore the way your heart celebrated, you let out an airy chuckle. “I think that’s the longest I’ve ever heard you talk.” 

He laughed. “I can keep it short, if you’d like?”

“I didn’t mean that,” you scoffed. “What could possibly condense all that?”

Charles gave you a look, like he couldn’t believe you hadn’t caught on by now. A part of you knew what he was going to say, but you wouldn't believe it. You needed to hear it from his lips. The hand playing with your hair stilled, the only sound being the crackling fire behind you. 

“I’m in love with you.” 

He said it like it was the simplest thing ever, like it hadn’t just completely flipped your world upside down. He had taken your bottled up feelings and opened it himself. Taking your responding silence as a negative thing, you felt his hand fall slightly, a worried look crossing his face. You didn’t give him much time to worry, pulling him closer with the hand still cupping his face. Your foreheads connected, and your lips were almost brushing. “You mean it?” 

“Of course.”

“Well… for how long?”

“How long have I been with the gang?”

Surprised, you laughed lightly, and he visibly looked confused. “So this entire time, you felt the same way?”

It took a second for him to process your words, a wide grin appearing when he did. “I guess so.” He paused for a moment, and you felt him take a deep breath. “You love me?” He asked, his voice small and uncertain. 

You moved your face back an inch, giving you room to nod. “I do. For the same amount of time, too. I was too scared to say anythin’, I didn’t wanna ruin what we had. And I kinda thought I annoyed you to death,” you chuckled. “But if today reminded me of anythin’, it’s that this life is too unpredictable to have regrets.”

“Arthur gave you that lecture too?”

You rolled your eyes. Of course he didn't heed your warning about not playing matchmaker with you and Charles. But still, you might have to thank him later. “Despite what he claims, he’s a nosy bastard.”

He hummed in agreement, and a silence hung over the room, anticipation heavy in the air. With the lightest touch, you felt him bring you forward with the hand on the back of your head. “I wanna hear you say it,” you heard him ask. 

“I love you, darlin’.” Both hands now cupped his cheeks, and you hovered your lips above his. “Kiss me?”

“Gladly.” You felt his hand move to cradle your head, pulling you in the final distance until your lips were colliding. There was only a hint of chill left on his skin, easily melting away against your warm mouth.  His lips were soft, softer than you imagined, and you let out a pleased sigh. It was a surprisingly quick kiss, and you sucked in a breath when you felt him pull away, his eyes blown out. 

He was also panting, and his fingers wove into your hair, like he was grounding himself. Moving forward, you tried to reconnect your lips, but he moved his head so that your lips collided with his cheek instead. A jolt of panic shot through your body, thinking you horribly misread the situation. “I want… I want this,” he reassured. “But I want to make sure you want this. That you want… me.”

You’d never met a man like Charles Smith, and you’re sure you’d never meet another like him. Never, ever had you heard of or met a man explicitly asking for consent like this, and it got you more excited than you thought it would. “I’ve wanted this for a while now,” you admitted, resting your touch on the junction where his shoulders and neck met. “I’ve dreamed of a moment like this more times than I can count. I want you, Charles. I need-”

In a complete switch up, he crashed his lips against yours, muffling your words. If the first kiss had been gentle and hesitant, this one was hungry and confident, lips eagerly moving against yours. He was practically devouring you, like he couldn’t get enough of you. With every small noise that left you, he seemed to grow more bold, and you felt the fingers in your hair tug slightly. It didn’t hurt, but it caused your lips to part. Within seconds his tongue swept into your mouth, eager to explore you. 

The blanket had long since fallen off, bunched up on the ground surrounding the two of you. Pushing him lightly on his shoulders, you eased him on his back. Your hands planted on his chest when he made contact with the furs, your lips not separating for a moment. He was a pleasant temperature under your fingers, his skin surprisingly soft, just like his lips. You were straddling his waist now, your hands barely keeping you from laying your entire weight on the man. 

He had let go of your head, his hands moving to your waist to keep you secure. His grip was strong, but not enough to leave a mark. A part of you wanted him to, but you didn’t say anything. If he wanted you like you wanted him, then there would be a next time.

Rocking your hips, you felt a growing hardness barely separated by your thin undergarments. You felt him groan when you did so, and he tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth. When he moved his head away to suck in some air, your hands snaked back up his neck, nearly covering his ears. You’d thought your attempts at warming him up were fruitful, but when you felt how cold his ears were, you made a concerned noise, your lust temporarily forgotten. “Your ears are freezing…”

He looked like he couldn’t care less, but then a mischievous smile crossed his face. “You gonna warm them up, then?”

“What do you think I’m tryin’ to do?” You giggled, and you made sure that your hands fully covered them. You had easy access to his lips, and you gave him a quick kiss. 

“Not with your hands, my love.”

You smiled at the endearment, but his statement confused you. Cocking your head to the side, you moved your hands off his face, settling them back on his chest. “What-?”

You didn’t get to finish your question, the hands on your hips effortlessly pulling your up toward his face. Your knees now straddled the sides of his head, your thighs practically where your hands were, covering his ears. You looked down at him with wide eyes, a flush creeping up your neck at the implications. Surely he doesn't want that, right?

Charles let out a satisfied noise, and with his hands now on your thighs he eased you on to him. You let him, but you kept a few inches between his mouth and your body. He genuinely seemed upset by that, and you felt him press a quick kiss to the inside of your thigh, causing a shiver to run through your body.

“Please, let me taste you,” he pressed another kiss to the inside of your legs, this one closer to your aching center. If he moved any closer, he was bound to feel your wetness through the fabric. “I want you to fall apart on my face.”

You exhaled shakily. “You want to?” You asked, almost in disbelief. This man was unreal.

He nodded, the action causing his chin to brush against your center. “Let me make you feel good, my love.” When he pulled you down again, you didn’t keep any distance between the two of you. You felt him press a kiss to your clothed center, a smug grin on his face when he felt your arousal. He didn’t say anything, just pulling you down closer to his face until your legs were fully wrapped around his head, no space between the two of you. 

You felt his tongue flick out, simply tasting you through the damp fabric. He did it again, and again, and his hands tightened on your thighs. He was indirect with his tongue, but each swipe had you letting out small moans. A mix of his saliva and your arousal was causing the fabric to become even more wet; they were most certainly going to be wrecked. 

The small kitten-licks were nice, but you needed more. Charles knew this too, and you felt him work his fingers under the material of your undergarments, pulling them down your ass and thighs. It took some awkward maneuvering, but eventually the garment was off, being tossed somewhere to the side by you, leaving you in only your undershirt.

He wasted no time, pulling you back down onto his face with a growl. Parting you with a pass of his tongue, he let out a pleased noise, the vibrations shooting straight to your core. Charles was insatiable now, lapping and drinking you like you were the best goddamn meal he’s ever had. His eyes were hooded, drunk on you. When his broad strokes turned into concentrated flicks on your clit, you moaned loudly, your thighs turning vice-like around his head. 

It spurred him on, working your clit with markman’s accuracy, bringing you closer and closer to your climax in record time. You heard him groan something under you, and you let out a breathy sigh when you realized he was groaning your name over and over again.  

This entire time, you had kept your hands to yourself, but you were growing more and more desperate to touch him. Reaching down, your hands tangled in his hair, and then almost immediately releasing it like it burned you. For a second, you panicked, thinking yet again you crossed a line, which seemed to be a repeating event this evening. You knew his hair was an important part of his culture, and you would never forgive yourself if you did something to upset him.

Without even slowing down a beat, you felt him grab your hand, leading your back towards his head. He closed his eyes when he felt you weave your fingers through the locks, his hips bucking when you tugged slightly. 

You were getting close now, and you felt yourself moving against his face in time with his tongue. “Charles,” you whined, and he hummed in response. “I’m- I’m gettin’ close, darlin’,”

As you neared your release, you heard the sound of skin-on-skin from behind you. Turning around, you saw Charles stroking himself, getting off to eating you out. “Oh my God… Charles…” you breathed out, barely able to tear your eyes away from the beautiful sight behind you.

His eyes were hazy with lust as he peered up at you from between your legs, and you could feel yourself begin to tip over the edge. Sighing out his name, you felt him grin. Before you could even process it, he sucked on your clit, pushing you over that edge as you came hard on his face. You were crying out his name, but your voice sounded distant to your ears, temporarily out of your body as you orgasmed. Charles kept his tongue moving as you came, drawing out every bit of pleasure from your body.

It took you a few moments to recover, and the first thing you were able to hear was the obscene noise leaving Charles’ mouth as he drank in your release. Secondly, you realized you had a death-grip on Charles’ hair, and you quickly let go, and you tried to apologize, but your words were jumbled. He continued to lap at you, but it quickly became too much, your body beginning to feel overstimulated. You rolled off of him, being mindful of the fireplace even in your post-orgasmic haze.

Glancing over at Charles, you found him already watching you, just like he would do in camp. With a soft smile, you scooted closer until you were pressed into his side. He gave you his arm to la on, and you felt him kiss the top of your head. It was silent between the two of you, simply taking the moment to catch your breaths and recover. 

You couldn’t help looking down, though, having to stifle a gasp when you saw how big he actually was, having only gotten a glimpse of him early. He was going to feel good, but you knew you would be sore for a few days after. Not that you cared. 

Looking back up at him, you let your fingers trail up his chest, resting right above his heart. It was beating erratically, just like yours, and you heard him let out a noise when your fingers “accidently” brushed over his nipple. You heard him whine out your name, and you slowly sat up. You were able to see him clearer now, and he looked like a mess. His face was covered in your slick, glistening in the firelight, and his hair was all tousled from your fingers. But the best part was the pure bliss on his features.

It was almost comical, the way his eyes snapped open when you pulled off your shirt, exposing your chest to him. “You’ve got somethin’ on your face,” you tried to joke, but your voice was quite hoarse. You tossed your shirt at him, giving him something to wipe his mouth with. He merely set it to the side, unbothered with the mess. Propping himself up with an arm, he offered you his free hand, pulling you forward when you took it in yours.

You nearly fell right on top of him, your muscles pure jelly. Laughing, you were just able to get upright before he was kissing you. It was weird, tasting yourself on him, but you found you didn’t mind. You didn’t keep your lips on his for too long, moving down his jaw, then down his neck. You weren’t straddling his hips, so the positioning was a tad bit uncomfortable, but you didn’t care. 

Moving down further, you trailed kissed across his collarbones, then down his sternum, his breathing growing uneven as you went lower and lower. A hand now rested on the back of your head as you continued downward, reaching a patch of hair that started at his belly button. It surprised you, the rest of his body being relatively hairless, but you weren't complaining. In fact, you were imagining seeing it peek out from under his shirt as he stretched, his clothing riding up with his arms. Even though it was relatively innocent in the light of everything else the two of you were doing, it had you pressing your thighs together, trying to relieve the returning ache between them.

Following the happy trail, you ran your fingers through the hair as you adjusted closer to his member. His was achingly hard at this point, and his breathing stilled when you ghost your lips over the tip. Leaning over him, you flicked your tongue out, licking up the bead of precum. The hand and your head tightened into a ball, and you could tell he was fighting every urge to buck himself down your throat. Next time, you thought. 

Moving down further so that you sat between his legs, you spit into your hand before you grasped him. He was velvety soft as you slowly began to stroke him, a mix of your name and a moan leaving his lips as you did so. With heavy eyes and part lips, he watched you pleasure him. “You feel so good in my hand,” you murmured, “butI think you’ll feel even better in me, no?”

His response was slightly incoherent, but you could tell he was agreeing with you. “In a second, darlin’. I wanna taste you, too.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Charles found his voice again, although it sounded very strained.

“But I want to. Don’t make me beg for it.” You weren’t really intended to suggest anything, but the look on Charles’ face at your comment had you grinning. “Unless you want me to?”

“I-” he was stunned, but you could tell he was imagining it, and liking it. 

“Please, darlin’, let me suck your cock,” you fluttered your lashes at him. “I bet you taste so good… just let me taste you, please. I need it so bad, darlin’. I need your cock-”

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me.” Charles cursed, which was more arousing than you thought it would be. “Yeah, go ahead, my love.”

Pressing one last kiss to the tip, you flattened your tongue and ran it up his length, and you heard him moan. You did it a few times, receiving a similar reaction each time. Eventually, you slowly took the tip of him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around while doing so. Taking more and more of him into your mouth, you were only able to take him halfway before he was pressing against the back of your throat, and you relaxed as best you could, not wanting to trigger your gag reflex.

Taking the rest of him in your hand, you began to bob your head up and down. Hollowing your cheeks until you reached the tip of him, you then ran your tongue across the slit, before moving back down his length, keeping your tongue flat. You repeated this action for a while, falling into an easy rhythm. You felt him buck up a few times, but other than that he kept his hips relatively still, letting you have your way with him. His hand didn’t push you further down him, he just simply held you, moving back the hairs that tried to fall in your face. 

You heard him moan out your name, and you groaned. “You feel so good, my love,” he praised. His words turned into a surprised moan, whe, with your free hand, started moving slowly up his thigh, moving inward until you brushed against his balls. He nearly jumped with the contact, causing his cock to go further down your throat than you'd like, causing you to rear back coughing. 

Immediately, he was apologizing. His hand was now on your cheek, wiping away the spit around your mouth as you recovered. “Are you alright?” He asked, and you nodded, not trusting your voice at that second. You could tell that he still felt bad, and you pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. 

“I’m alright,” you managed to get out, and you cleared your throat some more. “Just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

“So did you, touching me like that” he teased, his earlier concerns dissipating when he saw that you truly were okay. “I wasn’t gonna last long even before you did that.” Pulling you up to him, he kissed you, and you finally straddled his waist, his cock resting between your bodies. 

You weren’t given much time to savor his lips before your world was quite literally turning as he flipped you on to your back. The furs nestled nicely against your skin, and you locked your legs around Charles’ waist, grinding yourself against his member. His head fell against your chest, and you felt him brush feather-light kisses across your skin, much like you did. But a new eagerness had overtaken you, and you grinded again against him, and you felt him chuckle. “Patience, my love.”

“I’ve waited long enough, Charles. I need you in me.”

“You think you’re ready for me?” If those words came out of any other man, you would’ve laughed at the arrogance those words held. But you knew it came out of a place of genuine concern for your wellbeing, scared of hurting you. He was large, and you knew that it was probably going to hurt when he entered you, but your lust fueled brain did not care. You need him in you now, consequences be damned.

“Please,” you whispered, and he adjusted so that his face was level with yours. 

“Alright, but if at any point-”

Kissing him quickly, you smiled at him, brushing back a long strand of hair that fell in his face. “I will. I trust you. Now,” you kissed him again, “fuck me.”

He didn’t respond, pressing a kiss against the tip of your nose before you felt him press into you. He kept his eyes on your face, gauging your reaction as he slowly entered you. The initial breach was always the worst part, and you couldn’t help the slight grimace that crossed your features as he breached your entrance. He halted, but you urged him further by pressing your heels into his back. 

The stretch was unlike anything else you’d ever felt, satiating a need you didn’t know you had. Tangling your hands in his hair, you pulled your face against yours, resting your foreheads together. “God, you feel so good,” you panted as he pressed himself deeper into you. You were certain that he was going to ruin you for any other man. 

Hearing him chuckle made you realize you said that last part aloud. “After this, you’re stuck with me, my love.”

Because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, and you were curious to see how deep his possessive side went, you pushed further. “Am I now?” Yes. 

For a second, it seemed like Charles couldn’t tell that you were teasing, but when he saw the playful glint in your eye he played along. “Do you think anyone else could make you feel like this?”

He was nearly fully sheathed in you, and you fought the urge to just pull him the rest of the way into you “I dunno. If I remember right, I asked you to fuck me. It sure don’t feel like you’re doin’ that.”

Finally, he was fully in you, your hips flushed together. You both let out content moans, and Charles gave you a moment to adjust. “You want me to fuck you?” He confirmed, and the words sounded even filthier coming from his mouth. 

“If you don’t, I’ll find someone who will.” 

Letting out something akin to a growl, he pulled out of you quickly, leaving only the tip in before he was slamming back into you, hands gripping your hips tightly. He set a brutal pace, and your head rolled back, your moans and cries filling the air. With the way your head was, it caused your back to arch, meaning your breasts were right in his face. With zero hesitation, he took one into his mouth, sucking and toying with the nipple in his mouth. Releasing it, he switched to the other one, making sure to give both apt attention. 

Tugging at his hair, you brought his attention upwards. Smashing your lips against his, your kiss was open-mouth and messy, more tongue and teeth than anything. His hips were snapping against yours, incessant as he pounded into you. 

“Yes! Charles,” you wailed, tearing your lips away from his to do so. He kept his lips busy, nipping and kissing the skin at your jaw and neck. A particularly hard bite had you gasping, and you felt him smirk against your skin. Your senses were completely overwhelmed in the best way; all that you could register was him, the way he felt, the way he tasted, the way he looked. 

He leaned over you now, broad arms caging your head in. His dark hair fell in waves around him, blocking out any other visual in the room. All you could do was look at him, and he was a sight for sore eyes. Color had long since returned to his cheeks, the skin there darkening with exertion. His eyes were locked on to you, dancing around your face and chest like he couldn’t quite figure out what he wanted to look at. His plush lips were parted, soft gasps of air leaving him with each thrust.

Another snap of his hips had you grasping at his back and shoulders, pleasuring washing over you as another orgasm began to build up. Your nails dug into his skin, no doubt leaving marks, but it didn’t seem to deter him. In fact, he let out a low moan, and it had your cunt clenching around his cock. 

Babbling his name, your nails ran down his back, leaving in its wake angry red lines. “You feel so good… like you were made for me.”

“My love…” he sighed, and one of the hands at the side of your head cupped your face,  bringing you right to his lips. His length was reaching places in you that you didn’t know existed, filling you deep and hard, just like you wanted. You were going to become addicted to him. 

“I’m so close, Charles…” Releasing one of his shoulders, you snaked your hand between your bodies, moving to start touching yourself. You weren’t expecting him to quickly grasp your wrist, bringing it out of the way and replacing your hand with his much larger one. He began to rub at your clit, slow circular movements that juxtaposed the fast in-and-out of his cock. His ministrations had you seeing stars, and you felt yourself reaching completion again that night. 

“Charles, I-”

“I know. Let me feel you fall apart.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

His slow movements turned rapid, groaning when he felt you clench around him. With a cry of his name, you came, pleasure rolling over you in waves. This one was stronger than the first, feeling like every nerve in your body had been set aflame. Your eyes rolled back, the world temporarily turning dark as your eyelids shut. He kept his eyes on you the entire time, a reverent look in his gaze. With the way your walls were fluttering around him, and the quickened pace of his hips, you knew that he wasn’t going to last much longer either.

His arms went back around your head, continuing to move as he chased his own release. You heard him gasp out, quickly pulling out of you, and you let out a discontent noise as he no longer filled you. He stroked himself a few times, hand moving fervently up and down his length. If you weren’t so fucked out of your mind, you would’ve had taken him in your hand yourself, wanting to feel him as well. Moaning your name, you watched as he came, his release spilling over your stomach. His hips canted forward a few times as he worked through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

You loosened your legs that were wrapped around his waist, and silence hung over the two of you as you both processed what just happened. A small laugh left you, breaking the trance, and you saw him smile back at you, mirroring his laughter with his own. You watched him grab the blanket that was still bundled up on the floor, and he tore off a section of it, the sound of fabric ripping startling you slightly. 

Wiping his release from your skin, he tossed the soiled cloth to some corner of the room. It’s not like this was your place, anyways. Opening your arms, you invited him to lay with you, and he gladly accepted. He was careful to keep his full weight off of you, but he still lay partially on top of you, his head resting on your chest. It was comforting, and you felt yourself begin to grow a bit sleepy. “Are you warm yet?” You teased, running your fingers soothingly through his hair, and you felt his chest rumble with laughter.

“I think so,” he responded, bringing the blanket around your bodies. The fire was starting to die down, but neither of you moved to add fuel to it. He murmured something, and you gave an inquisitive sound. “I love you,” he repeated, his brown eyes filled with emotion as he stared up at you.

“I love you, too.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but he quickly shut it. “What is it?” You asked, and he sighed, his warm breath tickling you.

“Does that mean you’ll stay?”

In all honesty, you had completely forgotten about your earlier conversation. The vulnerability in his voice had your eyes watering, and it didn’t take much thinking to reach your answer. Sure, you were scared for the future of the gang, and you were scared that with each passing day you’d find yourself closer and closer to finding your end at a rope or a barrel, but none of those fears mattered, not anymore. Not when you finally had all that you wanted in your arms. And who knows, maybe you’d end up leaving in time, but you knew you wouldn’t be leaving alone.

“Yeah, I’ll stay. Besides, you still owe me a date.”

His responding smile solidified that you had made the right decision. Whatever the future held, you knew it would be easier with Charles by your side.

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Brother’s Best Friend (Azriel x Reader)

summary: you are cassian’s sister and have a thing for azriel

wc: 1K

a/n: this is my first fic ive written for tumblr since like 2014 i think so sorry if its absolute garage. this is also not proof read at all and honestly i wrote this while tipsy bc ive been nervous to write again so i’m just saying fuck it i’m sorry :)

warnings: slight smut/suggestiveness

You always looked up to Cassian since you were little.

Like most big brothers, he has always been protective as fuck, especially with growing up in the windhaven camp and becoming solely responsible for you after your mother died.

He shielded you from so much in your childhood because he wanted the best for you.

Like many little sisters, you thought Cassian and his friends were the coolest males alive and wanted to follow them everywhere.

You basically had three big brothers instead of one.

They would try to include you as much as possible, but sometimes they did certain things that you definitely should not be around and would find some excuse to get rid of you.

But at the end of the day, the three of them would stand up to just about anyone for you to protect you. And they did.

They only let you join the snowball fight once and then kicked you out because it wasn’t fair that you only targeted Cassian the entire time and that Azriel felt bad throwing snowballs at you.

Also you were a child and couldn’t throw far enough to hit any of them, but they still say you suck at snowball throwing to this day.

When you got older, you desperately tried to ignore the rumors you heard about the boys around the camp. No one needs to hear about their brother’s sex life.

When the four of you moved to Velaris and after everything with Rhysand’s family, they were all very protective over you.

Over time, you and Azriel grew closer. His close friendship with Cassian led to you becoming closer with him than Rhys.

He is soooo protective of you.

So much so that no one bats an eye when he scares off any male that tries to court you, claiming they are not worth your time.

“I’m not overprotective, I just don’t think that any of these males meet your standards.” Aka his standards for you

Having a shadow or two follow you around became the norm.

You and Azriel start to spend a lot of one on one time together, platonically at first. You two are definitely the comfortable silence type.

Reading your separate books on the couch together was a common occurrence.

You spent years trying to ignore the shift in how you viewed Azriel.

Neither of you are quite sure when you realized the change in your relationship, but one day you became very aware of how attractive you find him.

The shy and quiet boy quickly became the silent and mysterious male.

And Azriel isn’t quite sure when you went from being Cassian’s kinda annoying younger sister to a vivacious female with curves he can’t keep his eyes off of.

The emotional connection had been there for centuries through friendship, but once it became physical attraction, you both knew you were screwed.

One night after drinking at Rita’s, Cassian asked Azriel to make sure you got home safe.

The alcohol inhibits both of your judgements and you both end up in your bed that night.

“You don’t know how long I have wanted to do this. No other male even deserves the chance to try to make you feel as good as I do.”

He was your first (again because he scared away every single male who tried to come near you) and it was fucking adorable

Waking up next to your brother’s best friend is a different level of anxiety.

You freak out and tell him this absolutely cannot happen again. You make an effort to avoid being alone with him.

But obviously Azriel is not content with just one night after getting a taste of you.

He spends the next several weeks slowly breaking down your walls with sneaky touches and whispering dirty things in your ear when no one is watching.

Eventually you cave and end up at his door one night, pissed at him for succeeding, but also practically begging him to fuck you again.

And again. And again.

It took no time at all for the actual feelings to be revealed between you two and to start secretly dating.

And from there it’s months of sneaking around and pretending to be just friends in front of others.

Az feels sooo guilty about lying to his friend but you don’t want to tell Cassian because you know he will freak out.

He asks you so many times to tell Cassian because he hates lying to him.

And Rhys is so suspicious of you two but doesn’t want to interfere.

Eventually Cassian catches you two.

He enters Azriel’s room without knocking one night to ask some stupid question and finds Azriel with his face between your legs. We all know Az loves eating you out so obviously.

Cassian is pissed.

As in, he tries to fight Azriel.

But Azriel just lets him and doesn’t fight back because he knows he fucked up by not saying anything sooner.

You start screaming and put yourself between the two of them to get Cassian to stop, which makes Azriel immediately move to cover you in case Cassian doesn’t react quick enough to stop.

Cassian sees how protective Azriel is of you and how you were willing to throw yourself in front of Azriel to defend him and realizes this isn’t just some casual thing between you two.

It takes a couple days for him to forgive Azriel for lying. He forgives you within one day because you always have been able to use your puppy dog eyes on him to get what you want.

Eventually Cassian accepts your relationship.

But he threatens Azriel that if he ever hurts you, he will do something so severe that Az wouldn’t tell you what he said.

Cassian still makes an overdramatic scene of gagging every time you and Azriel are affectionate in front of him.

Which only makes you do it more to piss him off because that’s what sisters do.

[salt-clangen]

Moon 2

Newleaf

Crafting…. Wasn’t Wolfpaw’s specialty, she could tell right away. She tried to repeat the motions she’d idly seen her former clan mates do, but the cordgrass was fussy. Slowly- messily- she managed to make a few lengths of twine, carefully slicing the grass into small sections. Setting aside half of the slivers she braided the remainders together, the result was a strong but flexible twine that could be tied and reused, even if it was a bit messy looking.

Across from her, Lynxkit was making more progress, her small paws finding an easy rhythm. She worked on layering broad leafed grass over each other, making a small basket. It was small and a little uneven, but it was something. They work in quiet tandem, the waves in the distance providing a pleasant white noise.

Wolfpaw felt a new sense of appreciation for the artisans she used to take for granted in Duskclan, taught from birth to look down on them by her mother and the warriors of the clan. Fighting, hunting, and spiritual work were all deemed ‘honorable’ and those that couldn’t work in a righteous manner were held in disdain. Queens, camp keepers, caretakers, mediators, artisans? They were just cats that couldn’t meet the high standards demanded by the clan.

But the past few moons have taught her just how useless a warrior is with support, no pottery to cook with, to baskets to gather with, no clerics to heal wounds and aches. It was difficult, every day a struggle, every night felt endless. They still had a long way to go, even with the meager supplies they’d stored up, Wolfpaw barely had a plan and it was weighing on her mind. How would they survive long term? What about winter? Were they even really a clan? What did Starclan think of them? She couldn’t even talk with them, not that she could before.

“Heh Wolfpaw doesn’t your tail hurt sitting like that?” Lynxkit giggled, breaking the storm inside the apprentice’s head.

“It helps me stay balanced.” Wolfpaw smiled, flicking her tail to sling sand at the kit. They laugh together and the crafting session ends with them chasing each other around camp.

“For you!” Lynxkit declared, holding the item up for Wolfpaw to see.

The night was cool, refreshing after the warm Newleaf day, when Lynxkit approached her friend. Wolfpaw had just returned from a dusk patrol, trying to catch something for their dwindling fresh kill pile. She was unsuccessful.

“Wha-What is it?” She asked.

“A necklace! I found these big teeths in the sand and used some twine for you to wear!”

Ah, Wolfpaw thought. I’d just taught her about how artisans make accessories like belts and necklaces.

Still it irked her that Lynxkit had used one of the few sections of twine they had to make this. Her tail tip flicked and she hoped her face didn’t betray her irritation. The patrol had been terrible, her last few hunting attempts had been fruitless and crafting was frustratingly slow. The stress of caring for herself and the kit was weighing heavily on her. She just wanted to scream.

“Thank you, Lynxkit.” She said slowly, taking the gift from the smiling kit. Taking a deep breath she tried to let the frustration wash off of her. “I’ll join you in the den soon, just need a moment alone before sleeping.” She stalked off quickly to the edge of camp, standing on a large rock overlooking the sea.

Lynxkit’s face fell slightly, she wanted to argue that Wolfpaw had spent all evening alone, they both had. But her clan mate’s slumped shoulders kept her quiet. She slowly walked back to one of the many dens available, hoping Wolfpaw would be joining her soon.

A few days later Wolfpaw set out patrolling the coast, it was almost midday and the tides were low giving her a chance to explore. The closest landmark to camp was the River’s End, where the East river met the sea creating an estuary. The ground surrounding the water was silty and thick, her paws sinking a little as she walked along.

Her plan today was to swim past the estuary to get a better look at the Rock Falls, located further down the coast. The dark mud squelched under her paws, the texture was odd but not unpleasant. As she got closer to the water she felt a difference in the ground, the fine grit of the sandy mud gave way to an almost silky texture.

Curiously she stopped, digging her paw into the ground, she scooped up a pawful. It was heavy and right away she realized it was clay. It looked much darker than the clay she’d seen at Small creek and much smoother, no clumps or chunks.

She dug more into it, managing to roll it into a ball with ease. Bits of clay coated her paws and even got onto her tail while she worked. Walking around she could found various spots where the clay was nearly at the surface. If she hurried she could be in back to camp, grab the basket Lynckit had made, and make it back to collect the ball she’d rolled before the tide rose.

It felt like a good sign, clay was one of the building blocks of a clan, they’d be able to store water and cook soups over the fire. Instead of roasting prey on sticks and soaking moss with water to drink. With her tail high, Wolfpaw ran back to camp, eager to collect her new treasure.

Lynxkit had been confused when Wolfpaw returned to camp, paws muddy and fur fluffed up in excitement. She hadn’t said anything, just rushed past the kit to grab the second basket she’d made this moon and ran back out. Frustrated at being ignored, Lynxkit clambered slowly up the rocks that lined camp. The only other way to exit was to follow the edge of the rocky border and slip out between the last rock and the sea. But the waves and water still unnerved the young kit, so she trekked up and over the rocks.

Once at the top she watched Wolfpaw’s form get smaller and smaller, turning into a white spot along the coast. She could barely see her as the apprentice approached the River’s End, the waters were low and the black muddy soil exposed. She watched with curiosity as Wolfpaw put some of the mud in the basket, then as she raced up to the water to dunk the entire thing in the brackish water.

Tucking her paws under her, Lynxkit watched with a smile, it was hard to see exactly what her friend was doing but it was nice to have something to do. Rather than the boring tasks of practicing her clan mew and drawing shapes in the sand. Lately she’d been able to craft and weave but supplies ran out quickly and she was left with her boredom.

She was jolted out of her musings when she realized the white speck started to look like Wolfpaw again. She scrambled off the rock, scraping her chin as she tumbled down. Her paws were barely under her when Wolfpaw came rounding the corner, toting a heavy basket.

“Whatcha got there?” She panted, earning a raised brow from the apprentice but her mouth was wrapped around the handle. She set the bundle down and flexed her jaw a few times, working out the tension from carrying the heavy load.

“Clay,” She smiled, tail swishing. “We’re gonna make bowls and pots!”

That afternoon they worked together, slowly molding the clay near the tide pools so they could dip their paws into the pools. The salty water helped ease the firm clay into shape. Like always they worked in calm, focused silence, only interrupted by instructions from Wolfpaw. Again she worked mostly from vague memories of seeing artisans of Duskclan, but her paws were clumsy and slow.

They had enough clay to make a large pot and a smaller bowl, they were thick, uneven, and ugly. To Lynxkit they were beautiful, she’d listened to Wolfpaw’s stories but it was different seeing it in front of her.

“About as good as we’ll get,” Wolfpaw laughed, her paws were starting to get crusty from the drying clay, it was even splattered on her chest and face. “Now we put it in an oven.”

“What’s an oven?”

“It’s when a fire is surrounded by stuff that can’t burn. It cooks stuff slower but it changes the flavor of food and it doesn’t burn as easily.” Wolfpaw explained as they washed their paws in the tide pools. “I’ve been thinking of ways to make one.”

“How?” Lynxkit asked as she shook the water off of her, risiting the urge to lick the moisture off, the salty water was strong and made her mouth dry.

Wolfpaw didn’t answer, she walked a few paces toward the eastern wall of the camp, where the rocks were to close together to form dens and began digging. The sand in camp was coarse and drained well, in short time she had dug a hole half a tail length deep and a tail length wide. Pausing she moved away from the hole and dug again, this time making a tunnel angled towards the larger hole.

“It’s called a fire hole, it helps disperse smoke and makes it harder to notice from a distance. Normally you’d use some rocks to hold a pan or pot over the larger hole and that’s how you cook.” She explained to the kitchen, who watched with rapt attention. “I think if I stack rocks up around it we can use it as an oven.”

“Is that how Duskclan did it?” She asked, getting close to look into the holes.

“Not really, fire holes were used by traveling patrols or for smoking meats. They used large rocks as ovens, but we can’t really build one with just us, so hopefully this works.” She finishes connecting the holes. “Now you wanna come with me to get more kindling? Then we can try firing those pots.”

Characters:

Wolfpaw- a white tabby molly with short fur, heather blue eyes, and a notch in her right ear. 8 moons. Apprentice. Nervous, compassionate, oddly observant.

Lynxkit- a blue point molly with long fur, blue eyes. 3 moons. Quiet, sweet, quick to help.