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blondeboyfriend · 4 months

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𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

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

Baptism enslaved me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We heard alright,” Usami snickered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did we miss anything important?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Russian immersion?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

“It’s a bear,” Shiraishi whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you going?” Sugimoto asked.

“To camp.”

Sugimoto went to speak, but you butted in.

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

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

“Did I miss anything important?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

Ogata chuckled and your heart sang.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not if you scare them into submission.”

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

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

“Sedated?” Ogata asked with a smirk.

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

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

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied coolly.

“We should start getting ready,” Sugimoto said.

“I guess,” Shiraishi yawned.

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

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

The horror of my stupidity

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not you then?”

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s dead.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Tanigaki,” you croaked.

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

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

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

“He can’t… This isn’t happening…”

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

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

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

“Are you going to be okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey! Were any of you dismissed?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m just looking!”

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

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

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

“Look!” a camper called out.

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

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

Sugimoto crested the hill and looked down.

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

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

“What is it?” you and Shiraishi shouted.

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

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

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

“You could say that,” one piped up.

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

“It’s a body!” one shrieked.

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

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

“Is she going to be okay?”

“Maybe she’s just sleeping.”

“What are you? Dumb? She’s dead!”

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

It was Inkarmat.

“Shi… Shiraishi. Take the ki…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey! Ogata!”

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

“We have to go!” Sugimoto bellowed.

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

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

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

You sniffled. “Gross.”

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

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

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

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

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

You thought about Tanigaki.

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

“Why are you asking?”

“I dunno. Curious I guess.”

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

“I know you can do it.”

His support did little to soothe you.

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

“Where was he?”

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

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

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

“They? Who—”

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

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

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

“I can’t move.”

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

“Get on my back.”

“Huh?”

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

“Are you sure?”

“Probably.”

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

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

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

“I can make that happen.”

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

I believe I am in Hell, therefore I am

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yū—Yūsaku, I’m getting dizzy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He closed the gap and leaned against you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

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

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

“Nice people,” you repeated.

“Yeah. Nice people.”

“Would you be sad if I died?”

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

“What does that mean?!”

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

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

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

He chuckled. “Exactly.”

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

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

“You want some of it?”

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

“I—” he stuttered.

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

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

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

“We thought he was with you.”

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

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

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

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

I looked on the disorder of my mind as sacred

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

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

“Good morning!!”

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

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

He handed you an enamel mug full of coffee.

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

“Did he seem worried?”

“Not really.”

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

“What makes you think that?”

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

“Why would he kill him though?”

“People kill without motives all the time.”

“I don’t buy it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s everyone?” you asked.

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

“What about Nurse Kano?”

“I dunno…”

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

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

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

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

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

“There won’t be any accidents!”

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

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

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

“Yes, Saichi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he really that bad?”

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

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

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

“You’re good at hiding it.”

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

You dug through your backpack for your first aid kit. It was nearly empty already because your group of campers loved skinning their knees. You found a few alcohol wipes and some gauze. You wanted to punch your past self for not refilling it, but now wasn’t the time for self-flagellation.

“It’s gonna sting.”

“I’m not a child. You don’t need to remind me.”

“Damn, okay,” you said, cleaning the wound on his head.

“Sorry…” he mumbled.

It was just a superficial scrape, but of course the urge to spiral was present. Despite your attempts to be optimistic your mind went to the worst places.

I gave him a traumatic brain injury. I cracked his beautiful skull. I killed him and Mr. Tsurumi is going to be so fucking mad at me!

“No. I’m sorry. I’m the idiot that made you fall.”

“Good point. I take back my apology.”

You slapped an alcohol wipe on one of the cuts on his arm. His pained groan was like an angel singing your name.

“What day is it?” you asked, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs.

“June 8th.”

“What’s the time?”

He paused. “I don’t know. It was around 10 when we left.”

“Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous? Sleepy?”

“No.”

“Do you remember what ha—”

“You shoved me and I fell.”

“Shove makes it seem like it was intentional.”

“It was.”

“No it was not.”

He sat up. “Yes it was. You shoved me because you have a huge crush on me and you can’t stand it.”

“You definitely damaged your brain. Like, you’re so unwell right now. It’s sick.”

He laughed. “Don’t deny it. You can be honest with me.”

“I was looking at the ground! There were exposed roots!”

He pulled his arm away from you and grabbed you by the jaw. “If that’s all it was, why do you look nervous?”

“That’s just my face.”

“It’s a cute one.”

You panicked and tried to think of a cool, couth response, but nothing came. You just sat there, brain filled with white noise. The air was heavy; you felt like you were choking. You kept your breathing steady, but it was a herculean effort. All your energy was going into keeping yourself in one piece. The longer those four words sank in, the harder it was to retain your humanity.

It’s a cute one. It’s a cute one. It’s a cute one.

Your hesitation evaporated and you clumsily kissed him. Despite his words he seemed unimpressed with your agency, giving nothing in return. And in turn you felt nothing. It was like you were holding him hostage rather than sweeping him off his feet.

“Um, we should… go back to camp.”

The relief you felt upon finding Sugimoto and Shiraishi was immense. However your fellow counselors remained missing. You couldn’t help but feel like you were hunting for ghosts.

I found I could extinguish all human hope from my soul

Much to the chagrin of Shiraishi, Tsurumi asked you to help Yūsaku and his twelve campers. It wasn’t ideal. Managing kids you weren’t familiar with was rough. They tested you left and right. They relished in lying about their names, snickering when you’d try to chastise them. They seemed to have a modicum of respect for Yūsaku though.

“How’s it going?” Shiraishi asked during your lunch.

“It’s—”

“Well I’m having a terrible time. These kids hate me. They keep asking when you’re coming back.”

You laughed. “Did you tell them never? Because I don’t see Tsurumi letting the golden boy stuck with a bunch of kids on his own.”

“It’s not like he needs you! I’m dying out there!”

“You have Sugimoto.” You sighed. “And Ogata.”

“They’re barely any help. Sugimoto’s too busy trying to solve a murder mystery like he’s Columbo. And Ogata’s too busy being his weird self. I think he’s pissed off at Hanazawa.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t know why. Maybe he’s jealous that Hanazawa is—”

“Working with me?” you asked, your eyes full of stars.

“Psh. No. Part of me thinks Ogata just wants to be Tsurumi’s pet.”

“Oh. No yeah, you’re right.” You stared off into space. “He totally wants to be the golden boy.”

“You’re both wrong.” Ogata silently took a seat next to Shiraishi. Your head was swimming. “I just hate being here.”

“Then why glare at your brother?” Shiraishi asked haughtily.

“Are you an only child, Shiraishi?”

“Probably.”

Ogata smirked and changed the subject. “How is working with him?”

His tone wasn’t threatening, but the flatness of his gaze made you feel like you were being interrogated.

“It’s fine!” you exclaimed a bit too hurriedly. You tried to save face by tempering your tone to match the coolness of Ogata’s. “I mean, yeah, like, it’s okay. The kids like him, which is good because they can’t stand me. I don’t mind him, you know, taking the lead. He is the lead counselor.”

“It looked like he was doing all the work.”

His words were a wasp’s sting.

“You’d be stupid not to take advantage of that dork,” Shiraishi said in an attempt to bandage your wound.

“I’m not taking advantage of him.”

“Shiraishi has a point.”

“No he does not!”

“You can admit it,” Ogata teased.

“There’s nothing to admit. What am I supposed to admit?”

He paused.

“You know you hate being here just as much as everyone else.”

You glared at Ogata. “If I hated being here, I would leave.”

“Sure you would.”

“Yeah! Exactly. I would.”

Shiraishi scurried away awkwardly, though to be honest you barely noticed.

“I don’t know,” he chuckled. “How can you be so sure of something like that?”

“Because—because I know myself? This isn’t, like, some hypothetical thing. If I didn’t want to be here, I would leave. But I’m invested in whatever the fuck is going on… And I like my kids! I care about them! Okay, not the ones I have right now. Honestly fuck those ki—oh god.”

Ogata was trying to hold back a laugh. “Child hater.”

“I don’t hate kids! Even kids that are little shits. I’m just…” You carefully chose your words. “Not fond of some.” You regained your conviction. “Regardless it’s not like I could ever leave any of them behind.”

“It’s so funny.”

You tilted your head, awaiting an elaboration.

“You all say the same thing. The way you say it is different, but—”

“What are you talking about?”

He stood up and patted you on the head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

You thought about chasing after him, but there was only ten minutes left of your lunch and you hadn’t even touched your food. You choked it down and searched for Yūsaku. You found him sitting in the grass, telling the kids one of his numerous summer camp tales.

“And that’s how I learned you should never eat mud.”

You joined their circle. “How was the jigen-ryū class?”

“Boring,” one chirped.

“Lame,” another admitted.

“I hate Mr. Koito.” one said bluntly. “Why does he scream so much?”

Yūsaku nervously chastised the kids.

You giggled. “That’s a great question. But I have an even better one: who wants to have a canoe race?”

The kids were eager for normalcy, typical summer fun, and you couldn’t blame them. You sought it yourself. Anything to shake off your conversation with Ogata. You felt like it poked holes in your brain. You hoped in utter desperation that the laughter of children and the afternoon sunlight dancing across Yūsaku’s precious face would fill them.

And for a brief moment they did. But Ogata remained a looming presence. He was so distracting you came dead last in the race. Your eyes couldn’t focus on anything other than him watching from a distance like a hunter.

A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned

You went to bed early that night though you failed to drift away. You were in a fetal position, snuggled up in your sleeping bag, looking up at the Milky Way through your window for hours. You couldn’t get Ogata out of your mind.

“Idiot,” you murmured as you flipped over onto your back, not sure if you were calling him an idiot or yourself.

You stretched out and took up every inch of your bed. Your joints popped, the satisfaction from the sound soothed your soul. There was the chance this was as worse as it would get. Yes, people were dropping like flies, disappearing mysteriously. Yes, the camp director was a blatant freak. Yes, Ogata was fucking with your head. But the canoe race was normal! It was benign and expected! Those moments were few and far between so far. Maybe this was a good omen, a sneak peak of the placidity that was going to follow.

Pretending to be optimistic successfully lulled you to sleep. But rapid, and somehow pathetic, pounding on your cabin door ripped you from your slumber. You groaned audibly, hoping whoever was in desperate need of your attention would feel a semblance of shame. You got out of bed at a sloth’s pace and sighed before opening the door.

“Are you busy?” Ogata asked.

“I was sleeping.”

He gently pushed you out of the way and entered the cabin, a stiffness and urgency embodied in the swift movement. Your grip on consciousness was tenuous at best so you didn’t protest.

“Everything, uh, good?” you asked.

“If I said I wanted to apologize, would you believe me?”

You scoffed. “Not after asking me that.”

He sat down on your bed, and you struggled to hide your disgust. You couldn’t stop thinking about the fetid remnants of the woods that lingered on his sweatpants. Having him take them off crossed your mind.

“Well I am.”

“You’re what?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it… All the stuff I said.”

“You sure about that?”

He attempted to smooth down a strand of his hair. A hoarse mhm resonated in his throat.

“You’re so easy to rile up. I couldn’t resist.”

“Well,” you groaned. “Thanks. I guess.”

You figured he’d get up and leave, but instead his presence lingered, growing heavier by the second. His eyes were restless, his body tense.

“Do you mind if I stay the night?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the floor.

It was such an abrupt question. All you could do was choke out an affirmation. You knew kicking him out was the smart thing to do, but his perceived permanence on your bed overwhelmed you. The rational voice in your head grew fainter, your lust forcing its way through your papery veil of self-preservation. You were nothing more than your repressed urges.

“Are you sure?”

Dumb question. You’d never been so sure of something in your life. You couldn’t recall any form of previous trepidation though you weren’t trying particularly hard to do so.

“Yeah,” you answered, sitting beside him.

You leaned in. His sweatshirt smelled like wet leaves and copper. You used his thigh to steady yourself. He turned his head, his dark eyes looking through you. It was unnerving, but not enough to trigger common sense.

“Aren’t you hot?” you asked, laughing as the question tumbled from your mouth. His answer didn’t matter. “You’re making me sweat.”

You tugged at his sweatshirt. It felt dirty, heavy with sweat and earth. He took it off without a stitch of hesitation. Your eyes trailed down his arms, longing for them to be wrapped around you. It was the only way you’d make it through the night.

“I run cold,” he practically purred.

Cliche comments ran through your head.

That’s so funny because I could totally keep you warm, big boy.

I’m burning up, why don’t you cool me off with your stupid, gorgeous body?

“That’s cool.” Your brain shut down. “I want you.”

Your bluntness seemed to please him. His lips curled into a half smile before he pulled you into a kiss. He wasted no time, pushing his tongue past your teeth. He caressed your cheek as his tongue brushed up against yours, soft and warm. He pulled you onto his lap and rubbed the inside of your thigh with his rough hands. You tugged at his shirt, the cotton damp with sweat. He lifted it up and pulled it off, letting it drop on the floor.

“You should lie down,” you said, breath hot against his neck.

“Am I easier to take advantage of that way?”

“Excuse me?”

Your question went unheeded and he reclined on your bed, beckoning you to straddle him. You looked down at his body, muscles perfectly toned like they were crafted by the gods. He looked so pleased with himself, like he’d won an award. His cock was hard against the thin fabric of his sweatpants. It ached against you.

You studied his face. There were a few faint, red scratches across his cheek. You ran your thumb down one, feeling the slightly swollen skin. He winced.

“What happened?” you asked.

He exhaled. “I fell.”

“Like recently or?”

“On my way over.”

“How?”

His right eye twitched.

“I tripped,” he said, words clipped.

“On what?”

You never knew him to be clumsy, if anything he was rather feline in his agility. His fingers dug deeper into your hips before rolling you onto your back and getting on top of you. He pressed his rough palm over your lips.

“Hush.” His tone was nauseatingly sweet.

“I’m serious, are you okay?” you asked, voice muffled by his hand.

He titled his head and stared into your eyes with a calculated gaze.

“Isn’t it a little late for you to be so talkative?”

It was astounding how easy it was for him to shut you down. Granted you weren’t steadfast when it came to Ogata. You couldn’t take a firm stance. How could you hold onto a belief when you couldn’t predict his reaction to it? You wanted to be palatable and if that meant bending like a willow to his incomprehensible will then so be it.

“You’re so cute,” he said, removing his hand. “You’re like a scared deer.”

He lifted up the oversized t-shirt you liked to sleep in and pulled off your underwear. His fingers grazed your folds, coating them in your arousal. You swallowed hard, spit catching in your throat, as he slid them into your cunt. They curled inside you, pressing against your walls. The pressure made your skin tingle.

His gaze was attentive but cold. You felt studied, examined. It bred a twinge of looming uncertainty, one that settled in your stomach. But he didn’t hesitate with a remedy. He pushed his fingers as far as they could go and began fucking you with them. Your concern disappeared as fast as it came. Your eyes glazed over, ensnared by the man looming over you. You tried in vain to hold back your pleased whimpers.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re falling apart so fast.” His lips grazed your lobe.

Apologizing crossed your mind, but you kept your mouth shut. You writhed underneath his weight, rutting up against his fingers as they fucked your slick cunt.

Your hands wandered down his back. His skin was soft and sticky with sweat. You let your fingers trail down his spine before settling on the crest of his ass. You yanked down his briefs and dug your fingers into the taut flesh. He flashed an impish smile and pulled them down, kicking them off. The head of his cock was leaking precum. He tugged on it and bathed in your starved gaze.

“You want me so bad,” he said haughtily. “Tell me how bad you want me.”

You sighed as he jerked himself off. “I feel like I’ll die if you don’t fuck me.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I need you.”

“Then beg for it,” he growled.

“Please. Please fuck me.”

He rubbed his cock up against your folds. “Say my name.”

“Please fuck me, Hyakunosuke. Please. Please. Please.”

He nuzzled your neck and pressed his cocktip against your clit. “More.”

You continued to plead, body aching for him to fuck you. He guided his cock inside you, its girth stretching your tight cunt. He groaned as he pushed it in further. His movements were slow, and he seemed to relish in your whimpering.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he commanded as he thrust into you.

“Really good. Really fucking good,” you babbled.

He let out a pleased sigh and fully submerged his length within you. His tip pressed up against your cervix, sending a shock to your core. You yelped as he pushed against it harder.

“Such a big cock for such a precious little thing.”

His thrusts drove you into the mattress, making your cot creak. His touch wasn’t gentle. He didn’t hesitate to bend your body to his liking, to show off his strength. It was deliciously overwhelming. He laced his fingers in your hair and pulled. He manhandled your legs to get them over his shoulders. You knew his force would leave blooms of bruises on your ankles, bruises you’d have to explain away when your friends inquired about your life after hours.

Being at his will was exciting.

“Do you like getting fucked like a whore?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned.

He grinned. You wanted to lick his teeth, but settled for hugging his cock with your cunt.

“Fuck,” he hissed, jaw clenched. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

His pace quickened and his breathing grew labored. He seemed weakened by his impending climax. His eyes were softer, his words lacked their previous domineering weight. He looked like he was in agony. Seeing him fall apart made your clit throb. It was almost too much. Your body was immersed in euphoria, drowning in an obscene amount of debauched delight. To finally experience something you craved for so long was almost maddening. So many times you dreamt about him lording over your body under the serene light of the moon. And now you were living it out.

You wanted him to come first, to feel his cum flood your cunt, but your body wasn’t on the same page. Your impending climax was bubbling up inside you. Resisting it was a futile feat. What good was it to deny yourself such ecstasy?

“Harder,” you moaned.

He repositioned himself so he could drive his cock deeper in. You felt like you were going to burst. You dug your fingers into your mattress, gripping the tangled up sheets. The feeblest attempt to keep yourself tethered to this world lest you ascend to an Icarus end. Your back arched as a numinous groan crept up from the depths of your being, a simple carnal prayer. A cluster of whimpers followed in its wake.

Every inch of tension melted away as you let your orgasm consume you. You nearly forgot where you were until you heard Ogata’s pained voice.

“Where do you want it?” he asked urgently.

“Inside, inside,” you babbled.

He grimaced and pulled his cock out of your dripping cunt. He straddled your chest and held your head, forcing you to crane your neck. He pushed his cock past your lips and rutted against your face. His touch became gentle, hands almost cradling the base of your skull. He held you like you were fragile, like he could rip you to pieces if he lacked restraint.

“Look up at me,” he groaned as his cum splattered against the back of your throat.

You looked up at him, as he continued to thrust. Spurts of his piquant cum filled your mouth. You thought it would never end. Tears welled up in your eyes as his cum trickled from the corners of your mouth. Once his cock stopped twitching he placed his hand on your forehead and pushed you off. He then rolled over onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling.

“Um,” you said, crashing back into reality.

You hoped no one heard what happened. Your cabin was the one closest to the outskirts of everything, but still. Your cot’s incessant squeaking plagued you. Your breathy moans haunted you. Ogata’s audible grunting was a dark cloud swirling above your head. You missed your fucked out state of mind. You debated on chasing it. You thought about grabbing his semi-erect cock, but the feeling faded from your grasp. It didn’t help that he looked completely dissociated from the situation.

“Hyaku,” you paused, his first name felt too intimate, ”Ogata?”

You rolled over onto your side and placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“Sure,” he said before turning his back to you.

“Okay,” you replied, molding your body beside his.

You expected him to scoot away from you, or retire to the unforgiving floor. But instead he pressed himself up against you. You draped an arm over him and nuzzled your face against his undercut as you drifted away.

Life is the farce we are all forced to endure

Waking up alone wasn’t a surprise though it was still disappointing.

The sun roused you, making you painfully aware of your lack of clothes and the dried cum in the corners of your mouth. Visions of a relaxing shower danced through your mind. You could practically feel the steam surrounding you. However, leaving your cabin was precarious. No one could see you like this, skittering around and clutching your toiletries like they were gold. You’d wither away if perceived.

“I got this,” you whispered to no one in particular.

You stepped out into the morning light. It felt early. You didn’t hear any kids or any sort of chatter which was a relief. The outside world was safe; it was secure. You took a deep breath and took in the fresh air.

“Good morning.”

Your exhale lodged itself in your throat, forcing out a pathetic cough.

“Fuck. I mean good morning, Mr. Tsurumi.”

He looked tired, less triumphant, and part of you wondered if he was going to kill you.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be up this early.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be either,” you said, trying to mask your discomfort. “Anyway—”

He interrupted your attempt at a polite getaway. “How well do you know Yūsaku?”

“Uh. I guess about as well as you can know anyone given the amount of ti—”

“Did he seem unhappy? Dissatisfied?”

“That sunburn made him pretty miserable.”

He studied you. “Anything beyond that?”

“I—yeah no, I think that’s, uh, the only thing.”

“I see. Well I won’t keep you any longer.”

You simply smiled and nodded. Once he was out of sight you sprinted to the showers, eager for the cleanly embrace of its solitude. It was exactly what you wanted, what you needed. You needed to wash away whatever that conversation had been. You couldn’t figure out why he was so curious about Yūsaku. Your relationship with him was friendly but superficial. You wouldn’t know how to describe him in any meaningful way if prompted to, but made an attempt anyway.

He’s Ogata’s half-brother. He can tell two different stories about eating mud as a little kid. He sucks at putting on sunscreen. His eyelashes are pretty. He has a general golden boy vibe that is almost insufferably charming.

You knew essentially nothing. Whereas you could write an entire thesis regarding the random facts about Shiraishi you learned against your will.

You spent the entirety of your shower, wracking your brain over the camp director’s questioning. Unfortunately your brain wasn’t operating at full capacity. The night before lingered around you like a ghostly shroud. Your legs were peppered with bruises and your hips were sore. There were so many random aches echoing throughout your body.

By the time you were done the shrill voices of children flooded the camp. You hurriedly made your way back to your cabin, careful to avoid running into anyone. But despite the painstaking care you took, there was Shiraishi pawing at your door anxiously like a dog.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He didn’t bother answering your question. “They’re sending all the kids home.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yup. A few parents have already come by. Tsurumi wants to sit us all down and talk about what we’re gonna do.”

“We’re all going to leave, right?”

“Well we got all this shit here. The canoes. The food. The giant shogi pieces. All of that needs to get packed up probably. Do you think we’ll still get paid even if there’s no kids to watch?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“I heard something kinda messed up though.” You stepped closer to him and he continued, his voice low. “I overheard Koito saying some shit to Tsukishima about another body being found.”

“No,” you gasped.

“Yeah. They left maybe an hour ago. I doubt they’re coming back. I saw them pack—”

“Okay whatever. Whose body?”

Shiraishi shushed you. “Yūsaku’s.”

“Shut up.”

“Tsurumi found him hanging in the forest.”

“Like hanging out, right? With his brother maybe?” you asked desperately.

“Nope.”

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?”

“Relax! Maybe I heard wrong.”

You took a measured breath and distanced yourself from this loss. “It makes sense. Tsurumi was asking me about Yūsaku this morning. He wanted to know if Yūsaku was sad or, I don’t know, depressed I guess.”

“Did he seem—”

“No, but not all suicidal people act like outwardly suicidal.”

“So you think he killed himself?”

“Fuck no,” you sneered. “I bet Tsurumi did. That’s why he was asking me about him. He wanted to come up with an alibi, or a reason for Yūsaku to have done something like that.”

Shiraishi looked a little nervous. “Whoa, whoa. Let’s not jump the gun.”

You pushed him away from the door and dropped your stuff off. On the walk to the mess hall you watched as kids crawled into massive minivans and sleek electric cars. They were a resilient bunch. You admired their ability to withstand the trauma murder reaped. It sucked to see them go, but this camp was no place for their kind.

You felt oddly numb in the wake of Yūsaku’s apparent demise, especially as you sat amongst the camp’s dwindling numbers. It was just you, Shiraishi, Sugimoto, Ogata, and that freak Tsurumi. You all sat in a circle around an ashen fire pit, sipping coffee. It was bitter, the acidic taste boring holes through your tongue.

“It pains me to say this,” Tsurumi began.

“We all know about Yūsaku,” Shiraishi yawned.

His lack of tact made you want to crawl into your mug and drown.

“Oh, I wasn’t going to start off with that but…” He sighed. “As you all apparently know Yūsaku is no longer with us.”

“Did he go home?” Ogata asked.

“Shut up,” Sugimoto hissed.

Tsurumi ignored the chatter and continued. You struggled to focus. Your mind drifted off into fantasies of catching the camp director in the act and getting the hero treatment for saving the day. They were fun scenarios to entertain, but deep down you didn’t crave glory or even recognition. You just wanted to be right.

To no one’s surprise Tsurumi managed to convince everyone to stay one more night in order to return the camp to its previous barren state. It was depressing to snuff out the last remnants of the camp’s life, but necessary so Tsurumi could get back his security deposit. It was impressive to see how impermanent everything was. What took a week to create was dismantled within a day, a notion that haunted you to no end. You hated to think everything was so transient. It beckoned you to hold on tighter to your memories, to the bonds you fostered. If they were going to be ripped away, they would be marred with ghostly reminders of your feral grip.

Throughout the day you orbited around Ogata, searching for tasks that required you to be near him. Despite your attempts to be discreet, anyone with a brain could see your passive clinginess. You couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to ask if he was okay, but you didn’t want to risk an awkward conversation. When you finally built up the confidence to speak to him he was swept away by a bored sheriff wearing mirrored sunglasses.

“Wonder what they’re talking about,” Shiraishi said, startling you.

“Yūsaku obviously,” you scoffed as you swept the porch of a cabin. “Whatever. It’s not like I care.”

He laughed loud enough to grab the attention of the sheriff. Ogata was undisturbed.

“I feel bad for him.”

“Yeah?”

Shiraishi frowned. “Yeah, like his brother’s dead. He’s a total weirdo with no friends. And he’s short.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re shorter than him.”

“I am, but I’m sexy and have friends.”

Ogata was sexy, but you opted to keep that to yourself.

“Okay, and?” you said bristling with annoyance. “Go bother someone else.”

“I actually had a reason for bugging you. Sugimoto wants to make s’mores tonight because we have a bunch of marshmallows. I was thinking we could turn it into a mini party.”

“A final hurrah.”

“Exactly!” he said as he walked away.

S’mores and cold beer sounded nice, but not nearly as nice as another night with Ogata. You watched as he stared lazily at the sheriff, his posture loose and mildly defiant. He wasn’t naive enough to believe Yūsaku hung himself. He must have caught onto how strange Tsurumi was. There was no way he hadn’t. He was perceptive. You couldn’t help but feel as though you were kindred spirits.

When the sheriff finally left you decided to approach him.

“Hey,” you said gently. “I just wanted to, you know…uh. I’m really sorry about your brother.”

“Why? Did you make him kill himself?” he said, his gaze friendly yet cold.

You laughed and shifted uncomfortably.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay. Is there anything I can do?”

“Hmm. I don’t know.” He closed the distance you kept. “How far are you willing to go to comfort me?”

“A normal amount. If you need to talk or anything, I don’t mind listening.”

“Would you mind choking on my cock again? I found that to be very soothing.”

Ogata’s words were grotesque rather than alluring. You couldn’t help but feel like he was just trying to scare you off. His vulgarity lacked any sort of intensity. The threat was hollow. You swallowed hard and tried to look less timid.

“Don’t be an asshole. If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

He looked thoroughly amused. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You patted his shoulder with a platonic, heavy hand and headed off in a random direction. You were too frazzled to think that far ahead, but you walked into the woods with faux confidence.

All filthy memories fade out

You sighed in relief as the sun sunk into the horizon. Making s’mores and getting drunk by a fire sounded like the only suitable end for such a horrific venture. Shiraishi and Sugimoto met you by your cabin and aided you in crafting a fire pit.

“It’s so fucked up we never made these with the kids,” Sugimoto sighed, puncturing three marshmallows with a two-pronged skewer specially made for the act.

You sipped your beer. “We failed them.”

Shiraishi nodded. “We may be the dream team, but we weren’t perfect.”

“The what?!” Sugimoto struggled not to laugh as he crafted a picturesque s’more.

“Wh—who? Who’s the dream team?” you asked.

“Us! Me, you, and Sugimoto… obviously.”

“I had no idea.”

“I never said it out loud until now,” Shiraishi said solemnly.

It was hard to deny. The chaos that was camp proved to be a great conduit for bonding despite the horrors. You never would have made it through without Shiraishi’s humor and Sugimoto’s kindness.

“Dream team, huh?” Sugimoto said with a smile blooming across his face.

You punched Shiraishi in the arm. “Cute. I like it.”

Shiraishi blushed and shifted his gaze to the case of beer.

“How does the dream team feel about shotgunning some beers?”

Shotgunning some beers turned into shotgunning several. Stabbing the cans and chugging like your life depended on it was addicting. By the end of it you were all in a hazy trance. You collapsed down into your chair with too much vigor, sending yourself backwards into the dirt. You cackled like a witch.

“Holy shit! Are you okay?” Sugimoto asked. He was unable to hide his amused smile.

He held out his hand and hoisted you up. Shiraishi watched on, tears in his eyes, and stabbed another beer with his pocket knife. Beer spurted out of the hole and it sprayed all over. A dramatic “noooooooooo!" erupted from him as he tried in vain to suckle the rest of the beer out of the can. Sugimoto could barely hold himself together and lost his balance, sending you back into the unforgiving dirt and landing directly on you. His body was so heavy you thought you were going to suffocate. Luckily he rolled off of you within a second, wheezing with laughter.

The comedy of errors was too much. Not a single one of you went unscathed.

“I’m so sorry,” Sugimoto choked out.

You stood up and brushed the dust off of your body. “It’s okay. I’m alive. I made it. I survived.”

“You know,” Sugimoto said, still sitting in the dirt. “I’m really gonna miss you guys.”

“We’ll have to meet up again before summer ends.”

Shiraishi wiped the beer from his lips. “That’s assuming we live.”

“Dude! Not funny.” Sugimoto threw an empty can at Shiraishi. It missed.

“I’ll probably die next,” you replied thoughtfully. “Tsurumi’s gonna catch on and have to silence me.”

“Stop!”

Shiraishi corrected you. “No, no. It’ll be me.”

“Yeah, you know what. It’ll be Shiraishi, and then you. And then me.”

Shiraishi pouted. “What makes you so sure you’ll live the longest?”

“I’m immortal, dumb ass.”

“If you’re immortal, why not protect us?” you suggested.

“Yeah!”

“I’ll obviously do that! That goes without saying!”

You looked at him, doe-eyed. “Promise?”

He stood up, his balance shakier than ever. It didn’t inspire much confidence in his ability to protect you, but you chose to believe in his conviction.

“As long as I am here, neither of you will die. I… I love you guys s—so much.”

“Don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll cry. And I hate crying in the woods.”

You heard rustling in the distance. Sugimoto and Shiraishi didn’t seem to notice so you chalked it up to your intoxication. You focused your attention on the delightful little bars of artisan chocolate Yūsaku bought for the kids. Your stomach had been growling, begging for something other than beer.

“Gimme the stick thingy,” you barked at Sugimoto.

“Is that any way to ask me for something?”

“You’re talking like a caveman.”

You groaned. “Please give me a, uh,” you gestured towards the skewer resting at Sugimoto’s feet, “that item. Please, good sir.”

Shiraishi applauded your efforts like a real friend and spoke words of affirmation as you struggled to make a s’more. Neither of them stepped in to help you. They appeared to find your tribulation much too entertaining, and you were much too drunk to ask for assistance. However you managed to make four. The sloppiness didn’t detract from the flavor which was all that mattered.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Shiraishi said. “I don’t know about you guys but I’m tired.”

Sugimoto stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “Yeah, I have a long drive tomorrow. I’m not trying to fall asleep at the wheel.”

It was almost painful to part ways. A little sliver of you was afraid to enter your cabin on your own. You knew there was no reason to be scared. It wasn’t as if Tsurumi was hiding inside, waiting for the perfect opportunity to stab you. There was no way he could have snuck past you, Shiraishi, and Sugimoto. One of you would have seen him, or at the very least heard him.

Your heart began to pound. You had heard something lurking about in the woods. It very well could’ve been him. Maybe you were too drunk to be vigilant and maybe Tsurumi took advantage of that. Your hand trembled as you reached for the doorknob. Your fear was heavy and looming. It was like you were slowly being crushed. Every inhale felt like it was catching in your throat. You slowly twisted the knob and pressed your weight up against the door.

“Hello?” you asked as if an assailant would actually respond.

You flipped the switch and your room was filled with soft, incandescent light. There was no one in sight, not a soul. The relief you felt was almost overwhelming. Your terror was replaced by a pleasant drowsiness. Sleeping through the night with no interruptions wouldn’t be a pipe dream.

And it seemed to be going along quite well…

Until you had to pee of course. The urge hit you like a truck. You sprung up out of bed and ran all the way to the bathroom, hoping you’d make it in time. You regretted drinking so much. If it hadn’t been for the beer you might have gotten an uninterrupted six hours.

Luckily you made it to the bathroom in time, but on your walk back you became keenly aware of the fact you were still quite drunk.

“Ughhhhhhhhhhh,” you moaned as you trudged back.

You passed Tsurumi’s cabin and it triggered a deep desire to indulge in some snooping. Moonlighting as a drunk detective seemed like an incredible idea.

There were no lights on in his cabin, which wasn’t odd considering it was the middle of the night. But everything seemed vaguely ominous given your state of mind and your desire to prove he was the murderer. You peeked in his window and saw him sleeping. He was face down, body spread out like a starfish.

“What a freak.”

“You’re the one watching him sleep.”

You spun around and saw Ogata. You opened your mouth to scream but he covered it. His hand was damp and smelled like soap. He looked unkempt, and seemed a little frazzled.

“I can explain,” you whispered.

“Are you drunk?”

“Maybe. Listen!”

He shushed you and grabbed you by the wrist. He dragged you away from Tsurumi’s window.

“Can I talk now?” You didn’t wait for an answer. “I think Tsurumi is killing everyone.”

He looked thoroughly amused. “What makes you so sure—”

“He’s a total fucking weirdo, Ogata! He, you know, like… Okay, I don’t have solid proof. But he did ask me about your brother. He was like ‘Ohhh, do you think Yūsaku was suicidal? Did he seem like a little sad boy with little sad boy problems?’ And I was like, ‘No.’ And he was like all… whatever.” You hiccuped. “Why would he ask me that if he wasn’t trying to find a way to cover up his crime?”

“You did work with Yūsaku. I don’t think it’s weird that Tsurumi would ask you about him. If I were him, you would be one of the first people I’d talk to.”

“Ogataaaaaaaaaa,” you whined. “Don’t be a shit.”

“All I’m saying is the two of you seemed close.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“I think he had a crush on you,” he teased.

“He didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t blame him for having one.”

You gave up on protesting. It wasn’t like he was actually listening to you. You turned your gaze towards the ground. It was then you noticed what looked like rusty stains on his shoes.

“You really shouldn’t wear white shoes.”

He looked confused.

“Yours are always s—so dirty.”

He stared down at his shoes and smiled. “I like them this way.”

You shrugged. “Anyway. I think Tsurumi poisoned Tanigaki with mushrooms.”

“What about Inkarmat? Usami? Vasi—”

“When did they find Usami and Vasily?!”

He paused. “They didn’t. I thought maybe you had an explanation for them going missing.”

“Oh. No. I haven’t really thought about them. Is that fucked up?”

“A little, but I like it when you’re fucked up.”

He leaned in and slipped his tongue into your mouth. You tried to let yourself fall into the moment, to let yourself be enraptured by him once more. But you felt uneasy. A part of you was screaming at you to stop. Your entire body tensed up and you pushed him away.

“Not here,” you sighed.

“Why not?” he said, rubbing the small of your back.

“What if someone sees?”

“There’s no one to see us.”

With your luck Shiraishi and Sugimoto would see you wrapped up in Ogata’s arms and never let you live it down. A greater horror would be Tsurumi catching you. He would have no issue disposing you.

Ogata didn’t share this concern. He simply shoved his fingers down your shorts and rubbed your clit through your underwear.

“You don’t need to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid. I don’t want to get caught.”

“Hmm,” he purred as he nuzzled his face in your neck. “Getting caught could be fun. We could finally reveal our true nature.”

His wording puzzled you.

“Wait, what true nature? That we’re fucking?” you asked.

“Don’t play dumb.”

He let his fingers graze your cunt. His touch was hypnotic. You felt like you were melting in his arms. The world around you faded away, your concerns were nonexistent. Everything was a distraction queued for destruction. He kissed your neck, his stubble tickling you. You felt his teeth graze your skin. A smile crept across your face as he bit into it. Your knees buckled as he bit down a little harder. Your head was spinning.

“I need to taste you,” he said against your neck, pulling down your clothes.

The night air was brisk against the skin of your ass. He kissed the nape of your neck as he hands traveled down your waist, stopping at the dip of your hips. He got on his knees and stared up at you, eyes dark with ardor, before giving your clit a languid lick.

He lapped at your cunt like a starved animal. It was like he was trying to consume you. You felt so desired, so adored. His tongue was dizzying. You nearly lost your balance as he buried his face in between your thighs. He grunted and gripped your ass to steady you.

You gasped as he dug his fingers deeper into your skin. His sweetness was always tinged with a little cruelty. You felt like you were falling in love with him whenever he was rough with you. Your pleasure seemed endless. It was something to get lost in. He shielded you from the tragedy that had overtaken your life.

You ran your fingers through his hair. “You’re so good at this.”

“I know,” he groaned.

His haughtiness was unfortunately warranted. He could work wonders with his mouth. He rolled his tongue against your throbbing clit. Your knees trembled as your orgasm began to bloom. You tried to speak but all you could do was whimper his name. You felt like you were floating away.

Moaning soon became the only thing you were capable of doing. Your body was limp and swollen with lust. The only reason you were upright was because of Ogata’s steadying grip.

“Are you really going to come already?” he teased.

“Yes!” you choked out.

He held your clit between his lips and sucked. Your head rolled back and you murmured a string of obscenities. Euphoria wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the heights you were ascending to. You drenched his face with your arousal as your orgasm echoed through you.

“Sor—”

Your demure apology was interrupted by a pained moan coming from the distance. You crashed back down to earth.

“Did you hear that?” you asked.

Ogata didn’t respond. He simply stood up and wiped his chin.

“Let me walk you back to your cabin.”

“Uh, yeah sure. But did you hear that? It sounded like a person.”

“I didn’t hear anything. Your paranoia is getting the best of you.” He grabbed you by the hand. “Come on.”

He didn’t say a single word on the walk back. He didn’t even look at you. You felt like a ghost.

“Thanks… for escorting me.”

“It’s no problem,” he said with a smile.

You were convinced you would never fully understand him, that he would always keep you on your toes. And maybe that was the appeal. It was a danger you didn’t mind dancing with, something low stakes in comparison to people getting fucking murdered.

With my eyes closed I offered myself to the sun

It was your final day and you jumped at the opportunity to interrogate Tsurumi. It didn’t matter if you were the only one that thought he was the cause of all the camp’s calamity. The lack of faith from your friends didn’t deter you in the least. You knew you were right and soon everyone else would know as well.

“What the?”

You saw a heap in the distance, something keeled over just beyond the trees. The sun sliced through them, drowning whatever it was in unforgiving light. You heard the faint buzzing of flies and your stomach dropped. The familiar sensation of spit pooling in your mouth triggered a lethal anxiety within you.

Every step you took made you more and more nauseous. A horrid smell swarmed your nostrils. You couldn’t help but gag.

“No,” you said quietly, looking down at the heap.

It was Sugimoto, face down. His arms were stretched in front of him, fingers caked with dirt.

“Saichi, get up.” You squatted beside him. A prayer circle of jet black ants surrounded his body. “Get up. You’re supposed to keep me and Shiraishi safe, remember?”

There was no hope and yet you tried to hold onto it. You wanted to roll him over, thinking maybe you could rouse him. You saw it in movies all the time, the classic fake-out death trope. You’d slap him around, maybe yell and cry a bit, and his eyes would flutter open. He would apologize for worrying you and you’d tease him for how rank he smelled.

“Oh fuck!” you screamed as you rolled him onto his back.

His chin was coated with dried blood. His stomach had been cut open, entrails butchered and hanging out. You looked just beyond his body and saw a trail of blood and intestines. You started to sob. Sugimoto didn’t deserve to suffer such a heinous demise. Why couldn’t Tsurumi have just killed him outright? Why did he have to exercise his will with such cruelty? You hated him and his flagrant barbarity. Your rage washed over you. The desire to throw yourself over his mauled body and wail was extinguished.

“I’m so sorry,” you cooed, stroking his hair. “Tsurumi’s not getting away with this.”

In order to properly avenge Sugimoto you needed Shiraishi, but you didn’t even know if Shiraishi was alive. You grabbed Sugimoto’s pocket knife and bolted to Shiraishi’s cabin. You kicked the door in and all you saw was an unmade bed, empty bags of marshmallows, and all of his belongings scattered around an empty duffle bag.

You kept running out of sheer desperation, searching Shiraishi’s usual haunts to no avail. He must have been killed too, another counselor disappeared by that freak Tsurumi.

Your bravado began to melt away. The more you thought about it the more you realized you likely couldn’t hold your own against Tsurumi. You were nothing without the dream team.

There was always Ogata, but if Sugimoto was slain by Tsurumi with such ease then Ogata didn’t stand a chance. You were enshrouded in a sinking loneliness. It made every step an ordeal but you continued your march to Tsurumi’s cabin.

Your head was swimming by the time you got there. You didn’t even notice the door was already open. As you stepped inside you heard a series of loud, wet thwacks.

“Wh—what are you doing?”

Ogata stood over Tsurumi’s twitching body, bashing in his skull with the butt of his own shotgun. Pale foam seeped from his parted lips. You watched in horror as his face gradually became unrecognizable carnage with each of Ogata’s blows.

“Why?” you squeaked.

“What do you mean why? I did this for you.”

“This is not what I wanted.”

“Yes it is. You thought he was killing all your friends and it bothered you enough that you whined to me about it.”

“I didn’t tell you those things because I wanted you to kill him! Fuck! Now the cops are going to think you killed everyone!”

He cocked his head to the side and stared at you. You froze in place like a deer in front of a speeding truck. He looked gutted.

“I did kill everyone.”

You bursted into laughter. “No you fucking didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

“Stop it! No you didn’t!”

He stepped over Tsurumi’s corpse, gun still in his hand. You backed out the door, trying to keep distance.

“Yes I did,” he said. In the sunlight you saw how much of Tsurumi’s blood ended up on him. He was dappled with crimson splotches. “That’s why you told me about Tsurumi. You wanted him gone and you knew I’d take care of it.”

Your mouth was agape. You refused to believe him.

“You—you’re not serious. Please tell me you’re not serious. Please.”

“I’m se—”

“No! Shut up! You didn’t do it. You didn’t do any of it. You… You couldn’t. Right? Right?!”

His disappointment was palpable.

“Why are you acting like this? You knew what you were doing when you talked to me about him.”

“I never said I wanted you to kill him! I never fucking said that!”

“Stop screaming. I’m right here.”

Your eyes were becoming glassy. Tears were imminent.

“I never said that,” you said quietly.

“You didn’t have to. I knew what you wanted. We see things the same way. You hated all of them as much as I did.”

“What? I didn’t hate any of them.”

“Oh so you liked Usami?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I wanted him dead.”

He sighed heavily. “You don’t need to pretend anymore. They’re all gone.”

“Pretend? I’m not pretending.”

“Drop the act. I didn’t mind it before, but now there’s no reason for you to hide yourself from me.”

Everything was spinning around you. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. It was absurd for him to think you harbored as much hatred as he did. Sure, some of your fellow counselors got on your nerves, but being annoying wasn’t a death sentence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not hiding anything.”

He tried to pat down his unruly lock of hair. “So you’re saying I’m wrong? You’re nothing like me?”

“Yes! I could never dream of being as monstrous as you! How fucked up do you have to be to decide you can just kill people for, I don’t know, being annoying or stupid or whatever?”

“It’s not like I intended on killing everyone. I just wanted Yūsaku gone, but then I caught Tanigaki and Inkarmat 69ing by the lake and it spiraled from there.”

“Th—that’s why you killed them?”

“It was disgusting, okay.”

“Was it more disgusting than what we did?”

He glared at you. “What we did wasn’t disgusting. Tanigaki and Inkarmat didn’t actually care about each other.”

“You don’t know that.”

“They barely knew each other. You can’t like someone that much after, what, a week?”

“Does that mean we don’t like each other?”

“No!” He took a measured breath and regained composure. “It’s different with us. You know me. You understand me.”

“I don’t understand you at all.”

“But you were… so nice to me.”

Neither of you spoke. The only sound was the wind cutting through the trees. You thought back to old conversations you had with him and tried to see where your ignorance blinded you. There were plenty of times you should have known it was Ogata, but you were so caught up in blaming Tsurumi for everything.

It was hard to reconcile the man you had your heart set on was a cold blooded killer. You wanted your feelings to subside, but they remained despite his horrendous crimes. Part of you needed to fix him, to save him from himself. Maybe if you had caught on sooner you could have stopped him. There were so many what-ifs running through your mind you almost forgot where you were.

“Did it not mean anything to you?” he asked.

“What?”

“Being nice to me. Was it an obligation?”

“No. I think… most people deserve kindness.”

“Even someone like me?”

You tried to ignore the shotgun in his hand. “Yes… especially you, Hyakunosuke.”

“After everything I’ve done?”

“Ye—yes.”

“Liar.”

He aimed the gun under his chin and pulled the trigger. You tried to catch him in your arms, but you weren’t strong enough to carry that weight. You fell to your knees and cradled him. His face was nothing but an open wound. You wept as his blood seeped into your clothes.

“You were never an obligation.”

You wiped away your tears and got his blood in your eye. It burned, but it was nothing compared to the sinking feeling in your heart.

“Holy shit!!”

Shiraishi came barrelling out of the woods. His lip was busted and he had dried blood under his nose.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?”

Shiraishi kneeled in front of you. You looked down and noticed his hand was resting in what used to be Ogata’s face.

“Shiraishi, your hand.”

He fell backwards and kicked himself away from Ogata’s corpse. He wiped his hand in the dirt.

“He, uh, didn’t hurt me. I’m fine… I thought you were dead.”

“Nah. I just let him beat the shit out of me and pretended to be dead. I didn’t think he’d fall for it. Have you seen Sugimoto?”

“He… he didn’t make it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Shiraishi helped move Ogata off of you. He looked horrified once he saw how much of Ogata’s blood had ended up on you. The coppery scent was impossible to ignore.

You were thankful Shiraishi was still alive. He took charge for a change, deciding your best course of action was to go to the mess hall and contact the authorities. It wasn’t until you got there that he realized his phone was dead. You both sat in silence as it charged.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked after checking his battery life.

You nodded.

“Did you like Ogata?”

You didn’t want to admit it. You couldn’t imagine a world where Shiraishi would understand the complexity of your feelings. He never liked Ogata in the first place.

You tried to slaughter the sentimental romantic inside you. You thought about how mean Ogata could be, the awful things he’d say to you. You thought about Sugimoto and how he tried to drag himself to your cabin despite being gutted like a fish.

“No,” you scoffed.

Ogata was right. You were a liar.

#ogata hyakunosuke x reader #ogata x reader #golden kamuy x reader #golden kamuy smut #ogata smut #reader insert #x reader #.fics #.gk #.ogata

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starbandit · 9 months

Text

Summer Nights (Nick Furcillo)

Preview: Another tap. And another. You raised a shaky hand to peel the blinds apart, just enough for you to peek out.

Contains: making out, obvious crushing

word count- 2.3k/unedited

This summer was going to be the best summer of your life. There was no way anything was going to ruin it. You had managed to snag the dream job of anyone your age who was begging for a little bit of freedom from home. A camp counselor.

That’s right. Your summer was gonna be spent chasing sweaty pre-teens, fixing bee stings and splinters, and putting aloe on sunburns. But on top of that you were going to get to hike, and kayak around an island, and spend nights singing campfire songs. All while away from the real world, away from the stress of friends, of family, of school.

Your main stressors were the middle school arguments you had to be the mediator for. Emma was little to no help with it, instead instigating said fights by helping spread rumors for a little bit of ‘entertainment’. You could almost hear her voice, “I can’t wait to tell the boys about this”, while you were busy consoling campers over their week-long relationship.

You threw your tray down on the table, another night of soggy meat and limp veggies. Camp food was never good, almost always big pots of some kind of slop and frozen vegetables. Nutritionally balanced was a goddamn lie. Emma sat down next to you, giggling and smiling at Jacob who took the bench across from her.

“Oh, Jacob,” She laughed, covering her mouth. “You are hilarious!”

You rolled your eyes. Even if they wanted to deny their relationship, say they were friends or hate each other, there was no doubting that something was happening. Of course, you knew, with the amount of times she woke you up to sneak out to the docks with him, there would be no way you didn’t know.

Their conversation turned into background noise as your eyes caught someone walking towards your table. It was like something out of a movie, things moving in slow motion. Tight jeans hugged long, slender legs, a skinny waist hidden by a baggy t-shirt. Puppy dog eyes shining.

Nick smiled and greeted you as he sat down with his food. Dylan, Kaitlyn, and Ryan sat down soon after, all beginning to chat with each other as they choked down the ‘food’. You joined in the conversation, listening to Dylan spit out some pretty good one-liners, and caught the way Ryan looked at him while he did. You listened as they made the plans for a campfire, something fun for the end of the week. The plan was for everyone to meet by the lakeside for the bonfire on the beach and roast marshmallows and make smores with the campers. Maybe someone would bring a guitar or some spooky stories.

Soon dinner came to an end. Nick grabbed your tray before you even had a chance to react. “I’m on cleaning duty this evening.” He smiled. “I’ll still see you at the campfire tonight though, right?”

“Oh!” You smiled back, hoping the flush of your face wasn’t horribly obvious. “Of course, I-I will definitely see you tonight.” You nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

Emma had already begun collecting the campers when you made your way to the table. She was helping the campers stack plates and trying to rush them to get to the showers as fast as possible.

You and Emma led the campers back to the cabin to grab shower caddies and made your way to the bathroom. Emma groaned as you guys walked into the bathroom. It reeked of bleach and mildew, and a mild stink of wet dog for some unknown reason. The floor was stained with years of mud and perpetually wet. The lights flickered and some of the shower curtains on the stalls were beginning to turn black on the bottom from all the moisture.

“All right campers! Each of you have… 6 minutes to shower!” Emma announced. “Save the hot water for everyone, please. I cannot take another ice bath tonight.” She rolled her eyes. You both made quick work of turning on the showers and assigning campers to each one to try and minimize the amount of time wasted.

“So, you excited for the bonfire tonight?” Emma questioned as she picked at her nails. “Gonna flirt with your boy toy?” She whispered, nudging you slightly.

“He’s not my boy toy!” You shook your head. Sure, you had a slight crush on Nick. He made your heart flutter, your cheeks get hot, your hands clammy. But it was only a slight crush… Right?

Emma hummed. “That’s right. You won’t make a move.” She laughed. “Can’t be yours if you won’t stake the claim.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll do it when I’m good and ready. We don’t even know if he likes me back.” You watched as two of the girls began trading body washes and combing each other's hair in the dirt stained mirrors.

When it was your turn to shower, you found yourself thinking about what Emma had said. Did she know something you didn’t? You let the cold water run over your skin for a little bit longer, washing any leftover soap off. You sighed as you turned the shower off and quickly got dressed, pulling pajamas over your still wet skin.

You trudged back to the cabin with the campers, listening to them chatter about how excited they were for the bonfire and to see ‘Counselor Dylannnnn’. You had a good giggle with Emma about the crushes the campers had on the counselors while everyone cleaned up their bunks and finished getting ready.

After a while, you guys finally left the cabin and began the short hike to the beach. The campers squealed and ran off the second they saw the glow of the fire and joined their friends on the blankets set up on the beach. Jacob and Ryan were throwing more kindling on the fire while Nick was helping a younger camper zip their jacket. Your heart ached at the sight.

“Good with kids.” Emma teased as she pushed by you. “We’re here!” She called out.

Nick looked up at the call and smiled when he spotted you. The kid he was helping ran off as soon as his jacket was zipped. “Y/N!” He waved. “Come sit.”

You made your way over, taking in the smell of the fire before sitting on the log next to Nick. You could hear giggles of the campers just a few feet away on the shore, a few of them dipping their toes in which landed them a scolding from Ryan.

You guys sat in silence for a while, watching as everyone chilled out and played around as the sun went down. You kept your eyes on the fire, the flames warming your face. It was almost perfect. That was, until Dylan and Kaitlyn approached.

“We have S’MORES!” Dylan shouted, holding up some bags. The campers cheered and raced over, trying to grab at the ingredients to make the sweets. “Woah, woah, one at a time, ya little goblins!” He laughed.

“We need a line!” Kaitlyn called out. “And for you guys to be safe, and smart, about the marshmallows and fire!”

You helped the kids place the marshmallows on the ends of (mostly clean) sticks and showed them how to roast the perfect marshmallow. Kaitlyn was trying to avoid burns at all costs, even if that meant physically pulling kids back from the fire. Jacob and Emma had disappeared, no doubt off into the bushes somewhere to make out and baby talk to each other.

Once all the kids had their fill of s’mores, the counselors decided to make a few of their own. You had a weak spot for the gooey goodness of a charred marshmallow and melted chocolate. You ate your treat while Ryan began the scary campfire stories to the kids.

“Hey,” a voice sounded in your ear. You turned your head and came face to face with Nick. “You got a little, uh…” He motioned to his own cheek. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment. Food on your face? What were you? 4? “Let me.”

He lifted a hand to your face, gently rubbing the chocolate off the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “Beautiful.” He smiled before popping the thumb in his mouth and sucking the chocolate off. “And tasty.”

You were praying that only you could hear the pounding in your ears. And that the fire could be to blame on how hot and red your face was. You could hear the teasing from Emma already.

“T-thanks.” You weren’t sure if you should thank him. He had just indirectly licked chocolate off your face. Kaitlyn winked at you from her spot next to Ryan when you looked back over. What was happening?

The rest of the bonfire went by like a blur. Your mind was too focused on Nick to even somewhat focus on the story Ryan was telling. Something about a hag of the campsite? Who even knows.

Now here you are, in your uncomfortable cabin bed, with your hands crossed over your tummy as you stared up at the ceiling. Your mind was racing, thinking about anything and everything. Did Nick like you? Was this some long con joke from everyone? You wanted to scream into your pillow but couldn’t risk waking any of the campers.

A tap on your window nearly made you risk that. You whipped your head to the side and stared at the window, crappy plastic blinds were the only thing keeping whatever the hell that was from seeing you. Another tap. And another. You raised a shaky hand to peel the blinds apart, just enough for you to peek out.

And there he was. Nick. Dressed in a pair of pajamas and with messy bed head, looking as cute as ever. He smiled at you, his flashlight pointed down. He motioned for you to join him. You rolled out of bed and trudged over to Emma, poking her until she acknowledged you.

“Nick, I know.” She groaned. “Go, I got this.” She waved you off.

You nodded even though she couldn’t see you in the almost pitch black darkness of the cabin. You slipped on your shoes and quietly left the cabin, the door creaking shut. You took a deep breath and walked down the steps to meet Nick.

“Hey,” He greeted. “I hope I didn’t wake you.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Thinking about it now, maybe coming to ask you to go for a walk with me in the middle of the night wasn’t the best idea.”

You giggled. “It’s okay, I couldn’t fall asleep anyway.” The two of you began walking out of the campsite and onto one of the trails. Conversation flowed naturally, ranging from home life to the possibility of aliens invading the planet.

You two came to a clearing, the open night sky glimmering above you. Thousands of bright stars littered the sky and you sighed at the serenity of it. You and Nick sat on a fallen log, both admiring the sky. Crickets sounded in the grass around you.

“It’s beautiful.” Nick whispered.

You hummed in agreement. A cool breeze tickled your skin and you shivered, goosebumps raising on your arms. You wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing your hands up and down in an attempt to create some sort of warmth.

“Oh,” Nick noticed. “Here,” He slid his jacket off and helped you into it. The warmth instantly sent butterflies to your stomach. The scent of Nick filled your nose and that alone made your cheeks hot. “Is that better?”

“Yes, thank you.” You curled into the jacket, letting the warmth hug you. You both sat in a comfortable silence for a while before you noticed Nick had gotten closer to you. His thigh brushed yours, causing you to look over.

“Is this okay?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah, this is okay.” You scooched a little closer, your legs now pressed together. You had begun to feel a little more brave and decided to rest your head on his shoulder, staring out at the view. You could hear Nick’s heart beat through the crickets, the sound pounding against your ear. “Hey, Nick?” You questioned softly.

“Yeah?” He responded, resting his head on yours for a second.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, enjoying the moment. You wanted to soak this up before you possibly ruined the entire friendship. “How do you feel about me?”

Nick gently shifted, adjusting to sit somewhat facing you. “How do you think I feel about you?”

“I asked first.”

Nick stared at you for a second before lifting a hand and brushing your hair back. His hand came to rest under your chin. “I think that you are one of the most beautiful things here… And in the short time we have known each other I find my heart pounding and hands sweaty whenever you’re around. Is that gross?” He questioned. “Y/N, I feel like I have a middle school crush when I’m around you.”

You smiled and leaned in, catching Nick in a sudden kiss. He tensed up at first and then soon melted into the kiss, hands reaching around to your back to pull you closer to his body. His hands sprawled across your back, fingers digging into the soft fabric of the jacket. He deepened the kiss, tongue poking your bottom lip.

You smiled against his mouth and opened up, allowing him to pull you in. Your hands came to rest on his chest, feeling the muscle under the thin shirt he had on. You kissed each other slowly, exploring each other's mouths and testing the waters with what the other person liked.

After a bit, you both pulled away. Nick’s lips were shiny, pink, and slightly swollen. He looked even more kissable than before. He had an almost drunken smile on his face. He leaned forward again, this time resting your foreheads together.

“After camp, after summer is over, I’d love to take you on a real date. Restaurant, flowers, everything. What do you say?” He whispered.

“I’d be stupid to say no.”

#pls i wanted to make this smut #might make a part 2 for smut #nick furcillo #the quarry #the quarry fanfic #the quarry fic #the quarry x reader #nick furcillo x reader #the quarry nick #nick fanfic #nick fluff #nick furcillo fluff #nick furcillo fanfic #the quarry fluff #video game fanfic #this isnt my usual content but i have a fat crush on this man

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adore-laur · 5 months

Text

ORANGE SLICES & POCKET LEMONS

— a girl falls for her niece’s charming & flirtatious soccer coach 🍊

——

Amaya's fingertips tap to the beat of an overplayed pop song, her hair whipping from the warm breeze from her car's rolled-down windows.

"Can we get McDonald's?" asks a soft-spoken voice behind her.

She turns the radio's volume down to hear her niece better. "Not today, Willow. I don't want you running on a full stomach. And I thought you ate lunch before I picked you up!"

Willow groans at her logical answer, her head dramatically lulling against the headrest. Amaya reaches back and pinches her knee. "Ow!" she squeals with a pout. "I did eat lunch, but I really want fries."

"We're pulling into the school right now," Amaya says, turning left into the parking lot. "You need to ask me ahead of time."

It's half past noon, and she's dropping her eight-year-old niece off at the local high school's athletic field for her first day of soccer camp. Amaya's sister works long hours at an office, so she happily agreed to take Willow to and from the sessions when needed.

The camp is held three times a week for the entire month of July, and she has no idea what to expect. She doesn't know who the coaches are or what they'll do activity-wise during the two hours each day. All she knows is that Willow looks adorable with her frizzy ponytail, pink shin guards, and matching cleats.

As Amaya pulls into an available parking space, she observes many cars and loitering families. Sticking her thumb's fingernail between her teeth, she nervously bites it. Most people here are probably snobby soccer moms who act above everyone else just because their child can kick a ball. Big whoop. Because of that, she always feels a little out of place in the town she's lived in her entire life, but she doesn't necessarily feel wrong about judging the locals. Her assumptions usually present themselves to be true.

Amaya steps out of the car, walks over to the side where Willow sits, and slides the door open. As she hops out, Amaya grabs what Willow needs from the trunk, including snacks and water bottles in a drawstring backpack, completed registration forms, a regular pair of shoes, and a headband if she needs something to hold her untamed hair back. She passes everything over to Willow, who's trying to break in her new cleats by jumping up and down.

"Ready?" Amaya asks while closing the trunk, knowing Willow has patiently waited for this for weeks.

"I'm ready," she answers excitedly with a crooked smile. "I see where we need to give them my papers."

Willow walks toward the people handing in their registration forms, putting her backpack on with a skip in her step. Amaya shields the sun from her eyes and follows her to the canopy tent. Two men are sitting behind a folding table and attending people, so she guides Willow to the line forming on the right where only a mother and her son stand. The son gets a stamp on his hand and then begins walking to the field with his mother. Amaya can't stay and watch since she has errands to run, but her sister said she trusts the people who run the camp, so she's not too worried about leaving Willow for a short time.

Willow shuffles forward, and Amaya opens her backpack to take out the forms. A man wearing a grey hoodie and a black beanie looks up as he stacks a pile of papers. It's humid out, so she wonders how he's not dying from heat in his outfit.

"Afternoon, ladies," he says in a deep and friendly voice. "I can take those from you."

She hands over the forms, and he gives her a closed-lip smile. He's very handsome, with his clean-shaven face complemented by green eyes that sparkle from the sunlight upon a portion of his face. She subtly glances down and sees athletic shorts adorning his thighs, which are spread slightly on the chair he sits on. Tight compression shorts peek out from under them.

He skims the papers and checks whether Willow's name is on the list of kids who signed up. He then uses a highlighter to mark off her name before throwing a sugary orange slice from a bag next to him into his mouth.

"Nice to meet you, Willow," he says with calm enthusiasm. Willow holds her hand out, and he stamps it gently, the washable ink leaving an outline of a soccer ball on her skin. "I'm Harry, and you'll be in my group today. You can head to the red cones by the furthest soccer goal to warm up and make friends while we get everyone situated."

Amaya peers at Willow and finds her looking up at her eagerly. With a ruffle to her hair, she tells her, "Have fun, okay? I'll see you in a couple of hours."

With that, Willow is off and running toward the field with all her belongings.

"Thank you so much for coming out today," Harry says, resting his elbows on the table. "I'm the head coach for the camp, so if there are any concerns, questions, or emergencies, my phone number and email are listed on our fliers" — he picks one up and offers it to her — "or on our website."

"Perfect," she replies, taking the leaflet from him.

"And what's your name?"

"I'm Amaya, Willow's aunt. Am I all set?"

"All good to go, Amaya. Just so you know, everyone is allowed to stay and watch. There are chairs and bleachers available."

"Oh, cool. I actually have to run some errands, but I'll be able to stay tomorrow." Amaya begins walking away, waving at him. "Have a nice day!"

"You as well!" he calls out, chewing on another orange slice.

On Amaya's drive to the grocery store, the thought of seeing his face several more times throughout the month leaves her with an unexplainable feeling in her stomach.

——

After crossing off all the errands on her list, Amaya arrives back at the high school two hours later. On the way, she decides to get Willow fries from McDonald's, knowing she'll love her forever for it.

Walking to the field, she sees the kids just starting to pack up. She spots Harry, his beanie replaced with a baseball cap turned around on his head. His hoodie is also off, and his white T-shirt is damp with sweat on his body. He has a coach whistle around his neck and a clipboard in his hand, occasionally writing stuff down while chewing gum. Occasionally, a kid will pass him on their way out, and he'll give them a fist bump.

Amaya scans the area and finds Willow trying to remove her cleats. She seems to struggle a bit, huffing in frustration and slapping her hands on her thighs after each failed attempt. A few seconds pass before Harry strolls over to her, handing his clipboard to another coach. He kneels in front of her as his mouth moves to form a question. Amaya can't hear him from where she's standing, but she assumes he's asking Willow if she needs help. She nods defeatedly, and he doesn't hesitate to set one of her cleats on his bent knee, untying the tight laces with ease. He untangles the other one and then stands with a smile. Amaya watches them exchange a couple more words before he gives her a fist bump.

Harry smacks his gum and looks around, quickly recognizing her and pointing so Willow can see. She ungracefully grabs her stuff and begins running toward her, and Harry follows, his hands clasped behind his head. The hem of his shirt rises, and Amaya can't help but let her eyesight drift down to his soft, defined stomach with two tattoos symmetrically inked above the waistband of his shorts. He smiles, maybe even smirks at her, before returning his arms to his sides. She's luckily saved from any further embarrassment since he gets whisked away by a mom nearby.

Amaya clears her throat as her eyes focus on Willow instead. "How was it?" she asks, taking her cleats from her.

"So much fun! I'm tired."

"Good. Your mom will be happy about that."

Willow grabs the container of fries and begins stuffing her face with the salty snack. Amaya laughs before looking up to find Harry returning to them. He's lifting the bottom of his shirt and wiping sweat from his neck. It takes everything in her not to look at his abdomen again.

"Hey," he says through heavy breaths, standing in front of her with his hands on his hips. "Not a very healthy snack to have after physical activity, eh?" he teases, nodding at the fries in Willow's greedy grasp.

"I had some of your orange slices, which are healthy!" Willow says. Amaya is surprised by how comfortable she seems with him already. It fascinates her how kids can befriend just about anybody in a couple hours.

"They're covered in sugar, you maniac!" Harry argues playfully, making Willow giggle.

"Wanna trade?" Willow asks, giving him her best gap-toothed smile and offering him one of her fries.

Harry pretends to mull it over before accepting her offer. His jaw flexes as he chews, and his eyes move to Amaya. He raises his eyebrows and smiles mischievously, flicking his knuckle under his nose.

"Hi," she says eventually, shifting her footing. "It seems like she had a great time. Thank you."

"We had a wonderful time. Right, Willow?" He glances at her, and she nods excitedly.

"I'll be here to drop her off tomorrow. At this point, I'm basically her chauffeur."

Harry laughs, deep dimples appearing. Willow is distracted and talking to a girl her age, leaving Amaya basically alone with him.

"She's delightful," he mentions, bending his knee and stretching it. "Fast learner, too. We had tons of fun today."

"I'll be sure to tell her mom. Speaking of, I should get her home.

"Yeah, of course. Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, you will. I think I can stay and watch next time."

"Cool. Have a nice rest of your day, guys." He steps toward Willow and holds his fist out to her. She bumps it while he steals one of her fries and tells her, "Take care, kiddo."

Once they're both back in the car with the air conditioning blasting, Willow says, "I like my coach. He's funny and gives us orange slices. He also told me to tell you to bring an umbrella tomorrow since it might rain."

Amaya's heart skips a beat, her hands tightening around the steering wheel. He said that? Why? It seems odd that he'd go out of his way to prepare her, a mere stranger, for the weather. But she's not going to complain. She has a bad habit of forgetting to check the forecast.

She shakes those thoughts out of her head by turning the radio on and letting lackluster lyrics fill her brain the entire way to her sister's house.

——

On a dreary Wednesday, Amaya drives Willow to her second day of soccer camp.

Her sweatshirt is haphazardly thrown over her body as she impatiently waits for the traffic light to turn green. She was running behind this morning and was only slightly speeding so they could make it to the high school on time. This session is held at nine in the morning instead of the afternoon, so her body is still waking up. She didn't get to make coffee before she left. However, Willow is wide awake, looking out the raindrop-covered window as she practically bounces in her seat.

The town streets are slick as Amaya turns into the parking lot. Thankfully, they're only three minutes late. As she shuts her windshield wipers off, she suddenly remembers forgetting an essential item — an umbrella. She was so rushed to get on the road that she forgot to pack one. It's not raining too hard, and she has a hood, so she'll just have to suffer through it. Maybe a mom will kindly lend her one, but she doubts it. They'll be too worried about their highlighted hair getting drenched.

Amaya and Willow walk to the field after they grab their stuff. Everyone is already warming up — kids are running around, soccer balls are being passed, and fast feet splash in shallow puddles forming on the grass. The rain has now subsided to a sprinkle, but a gloom still dulls the sky.

Coach Harry is easy to identify, obviously being much taller than the kids, but also because he's wearing a multi-colored, retro-esque windbreaker with its hood thrown over his curls. He's holding a clear cup with green liquid while juggling a soccer ball with his feet. She watches his eyes focus entirely on the task below him. There's also another bag of orange slices peeking out from his pocket.

Willow joins her fellow campers, dropping her backpack on the short journey toward Harry. In Amaya's peripheral, she sees a heavily pregnant woman walking past her while holding her daughter's hand. Harry seems to have a sixth sense since his attentive gaze immediately spots the woman. He effortlessly kicks the ball into the nearby goal and then jogs over to her while sipping his drink. The woman waves and sends her daughter off, but not before Harry gives them each a fist bump. They must know each other well because he soon places one hand on her shoulder and the other on her rounded stomach as they converse, laughing and smiling.

Amaya looks away before she gets caught.

Crossing her arms, she centers her attention on Willow, who's kicking a ball back and forth with a boy. She looks like she's in her comfort zone. It'll be nice to watch her today.

It's hard not to notice Harry going down the line of parents, shaking hands and conversing briefly with each one. She realizes she's at the end of the line, and anxiousness transpires. He reaches the person next to her, putting on a charming smile. She can immediately tell that the mom is trying to flirt with him since she's twirling her hair and looking at him like he deserves eternal worship.

Harry smoothly moves the conversation along, waving at the woman before standing in front of Amaya. "Hi!" he says, surprised to see her, reaching his hand out for her to shake.

"Hey, how are you?" she replies, shaking his hand gently.

"Good, good. I'm happy to have you stay this time. The weather's a bit rubbish, but we'll manage."

"Yeah, I forgot my umbrella at home. It's not too bad, though. It could be a downpour, I guess."

"Here, I'll grab mine," he offers, already jogging toward the bleachers and opening a large duffel bag she assumes to be his. He strides back, opens a black umbrella, and hands it to her.

"Thanks," Amaya mumbles shyly.

"Anytime. I'll talk to you after the sessions, yeah?"

"Oh, um, sure." She clears her throat. "By the way, I really like your jacket."

"Thank you. One of the kids said I look like his grandad, so it's nice that someone appreciates it."

"It's very eighties."

"And there's nothing wrong with that, eh?" he says, smiling with his mouth wide open.

She just laughs, not knowing how to respond to his charm.

"All right, I'll leave you be. Behave," Harry tells her with a wink before returning to his group of kids.

With a small sigh, Amaya mentally prepares herself for the next two hours.

——

The kids run to pack up their things when the final whistle is blown, indicating the end of today's activities. The sun had made a glorious appearance about an hour ago, yet the itchy humidity after the rain is making Amaya's forehead and upper lip sweat.

As she's observing Willow gulp down water, the sprinklers on the field suddenly turn on. Every kid gasps and immediately runs back over. The bliss of being that young and carefree is always something Amaya wishes she could experience again.

A few coaches bring out super soakers and spray the kids without warning. An eruption of screams and laughter travels through the air, the scene unfolding lifting the mood of everyone around. Amaya finds Harry curling his fingers in a beckoning motion to sneakily acquire a super soaker from a nearby coach. He catches one before sprinting down the field and blindly spraying behind him. The other coaches toss squirt guns on the field for the kids, and they clamber over each other to get first pickings.

It's absolute chaos, but her cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

Willow goes after Harry by spraying his back relentlessly. He dramatically falls to the ground and plays dead, spreading his arms and sticking his tongue out. Willow giggles infectiously, attacking him again while other kids gang up on him. He's crying out in faux pain, acting like they're doing considerable damage. The white shirt that he has on (he took off his windbreaker when the sun came out) is now utterly soaked. It sticks to his abdomen, revealing a dark outline of something there.

Harry eventually stands, holding his hands up in surrender as the kids get distracted by their parents chasing after them. Amaya's breathing becomes shallow when he takes off his shirt—even more so when she sees his tattoos. His body is buff, and his tattooed arms are covered in sweat. Her mind has an impulsive thought of wanting to bite them. Is that too far?

He bends over and shakes his wet hair like a dog. The whistle and gold chain around his neck glimmers from the sun as he looks around, ensuring no one else will attack. He does a double-take when he catches her eyes. Grinning lopsidedly, he salutes her using two fingers. She waves as he heads over to her, grabbing a backpack and water gun, his shorts riding low on his hips. Is that a tattoo on his thigh?

"Am I in the clear?" he whispers, looking behind each of his shoulders as he tucks a water gun in his shorts, but not before flipping it theatrically like he's in a Western movie.

"I would hope so, but they might sneak up on you," Amaya replies, trying to keep her eyes off his body.

"Keep an eye out for me, yeah? It's brutal out here."

"I've got you, don't worry." She smiles. "This was a pleasant way to end the session."

"We try to do fun things for them after they work hard." He twists the bottom of his shirt and wrings it out. "Willow got me good; did you see that? She straight up attacked me!"

Amaya laughs and nods her head. She suddenly remembers that she has his umbrella next to her feet. She picks it up and hands it to him, saying, "Thank you for letting me use this."

"Of course," he says as he takes it. "I'm pretty sure the mothers were jealous of you, by the way."

Her eyebrows twitch in confusion. "What?"

Harry leans in closer. "They constantly flirt with me, and it's so annoying. One lady even squeezed my bicep all sexually."

"I mean, can you blame them?" She pokes his firm bicep. "Look at those muscles."

He bites his lip and smiles widely, looking a little flustered. He then opens his backpack and pulls out a bag filled with candy orange slices. "Want some?" he asks. "I've got a bunch of extra for the kids on their way out."

"I would love some."

"They're my favorite. I love fruit. Do you? What's your favorite fruit? You look like an apple kind of girl. Granny Smith, perhaps?"

"Granny Smith is actually my favorite! Good guess." Harry beams with sparkling eyes before opening the bag of sugary treats and handing it to her. "Thank you kindly, sir," Amaya says as the sky clouds over, a grey gloom suddenly hanging over the field.

"A fair exchange for watching my back," he replies with a wink.

As if on cue, a sneaky Willow comes up behind Harry, and before Amaya can warn him, she unexpectedly sprays her. "Willow!" she shrieks, mouth open in shock. "You're supposed to get Harry, not me!"

"Hey," Harry says, sounding wounded. "Give me those back, then. You're a traitor." He reaches for the orange slices, but she throws them to Willow.

Willow catches them and quickly eats one before running away with the bag and her squirt gun. Amaya shakes her head as a raindrop hits her cheek. She glances up at the sky—it looks like it's going to rain again.

"Shit," Harry mutters to himself. "I have to shut the sprinklers off. Don't leave yet, okay? I want to talk to you some more." He runs off to grab his shirt, then continues toward a shed by the bleachers.

It's drizzling now, so Amaya puts her hood back up. Harry soon jogs back with his shirt back on his body and opens his umbrella before standing beside her, holding it over both of their heads. It's strangely intimate.

Parents and children are now filing out, surely not wanting to get caught in the eventual downpour. As Harry chats with a coach beside him, Amaya feels her phone vibrating. It's a text from her sister.

It's storming bad where I'm working. The roads are terrible, so I'll be stuck here until it passes. Can you please take Willow to your apartment for a little bit? I'll keep you updated. Drive safe!

Amaya replies with no problem, then puts her phone back in her pocket as a distant rumble of thunder echoes over the field. Not even a minute passes before it starts pouring out of nowhere, and Harry instinctively brings the umbrella closer to their heads as everyone starts rushing to the parking lot. The coaches and remaining parents help pack the equipment. The grass quickly becomes muddy and slippery.

Harry looks down at her after the coach he talked to walks away to put the cones away. "Where's Willow?" he asks, his eyes showing concern.

Amaya points to where she is and says, "Helping pick up soccer balls."

"Can she get any cuter?" He cups his hands over his mouth and yells, "Willow! Your aunt doesn't want to get any more wet, so let's go! And give me my orange slices back!"

Willow's head snaps toward his bellowing voice. She kicks a soccer ball over to the netted bag and then runs carefully on the grass to them. The thunder has gotten louder, and there are flashes of lightning every so often. The rain comes down in sheets, and it looks like the beginning of the worst storm the summer has seen so far.

"Are you driving her home, or is she getting picked up?" Harry asks, fitting Willow's small body under the umbrella.

"My sister just texted me and said that she's waiting for the storm to end, so I'm taking her to my place," she replies while matting down Willow's hair.

"The roads will be terrible, Amaya," he advises gently. Listen, I have to lock up the concessions building. We can go under the roof and chill until the storm passes—if you want to, of course. It's just that everyone's leaving at once, and the roads will be dangerous, you know?"

"Yeah, you're right. My sister wouldn't want me driving home in this with her kid." Amaya looks down at Willow and asks, "Does that sound good?"

She nods. "Can I get another snack? I ate all the orange slices. Sorry, Coach Harry."

Harry laughs, huddling closer to her. "Don't worry about it. I've got enough to feed an army. Uh, you take this and head over," he says, moving the umbrella to Amaya's grasp. "And I'll meet you guys over there shortly."

"C'mon, Willow, think of what you want for a snack."

They walk under the concessions building's roof. The garage window is open, displaying a variety of snacks, candies, and drinks. There's no one behind the counter, so Amaya sits down at one of the tables while Willow hungrily grazes her eyes over the food selection.

"I want nachos," she says firmly after contemplating.

"Can't you just get a candy bar or a bag of chips?" Amaya asks, looking out at the field and seeing Harry run over, his windbreaker now on. He runs around the back of the building and appears seconds later behind the counter, sticking a pen behind his ear and leaning his forearms on the surface.

"What can I get you ladies? Willow helped clean up, so it's on me today."

Willow points to the chips and crockpot of cheese sauce in the back, and Harry fist-bumps her. "Solid choice. I think that just promoted you to my favorite camp kid. Even if you ate all my orange slices."

He turns around and pours a bag of nachos into a cardboard tray, and Willow skips over to sit with Amaya. Thunderclaps and rainfall are nice background noises under the concession stand's soft lights.

"And anything for Willow's chauffeur?" Harry asks with a sly glance toward Amaya while pouring hot cheese sauce over the chips.

"You pick."

He looks at the food choices and murmurs, "Brave choice. Let's see... you mentioned you liked Granny Smith apples. And look what we have here!" He pulls a caramel apple on a stick from the stand and presents it to her like an award. Amaya stands up to grab the nachos and apple, taking two napkins out of the dispenser.

"Solid choice," she repeats with a smile.

"Pretty convenient if I do say so myself. I would've given you our signature stale beef jerky if we didn't have any caramel apples."

"Very funny." Amaya shivers from the slight chill in the air. "Hey, are we allowed to sit back there? It's getting kind of cold."

"Yeah, there are stools back here. I'll sit on the counter and look pretty while you eat."

She decides to hop over the counter, not wanting to go back out in the rain to go through the back door. She picks Willow up first, having her hold her candy apple while Harry gently maneuvers her to the other side. Amaya is next, and she hopes this doesn't quickly become one of the most embarrassing moments of her life. Reaching his hand out to her, Harry helps her hop up backward on the counter. She slides her body around, and his other hand goes to her lower back to make for a gentle landing. She gives him a grateful smile as she sits on a stool next to Willow.

Harry jumps up on the counter to sit across from them both, his windbreaker rustling while Willow crunches on her chips.

"Aren't the coaches going to wonder where you are?" Amaya asks, taking a bite out of the apple.

"Nah, I told them where I'd be," he replies nonchalantly. His features appear softer, his eyes clearer. Amaya isn't used to seeing him so up close and in dim lighting. He's mesmerizing.

"I can't believe everyone else felt safe enough to drive home. I get anxious if I'm on the road and it's even a little bit windy. Then again, they're parents, so they have more experience."

"Hey, don't put herself down like that. Better safe than sorry, right?" Harry kicks his legs against the counter and asks, "How old are you, by the way? You don't have to answer if you're uncomfortable,".

"I turned twenty-four last month. What about you?"

"Twenty-five," he says. "I'm getting old, right, Willow? She called me old today because I said my knee was hurting."

"Yeah, you're old," Willow says distractedly, her eyes zoned out on the rain. "I'm eight, so I'm allowed to say that."

Harry scoffs and reaches his foot out to gently kick her cleat. He then does the same to Amaya's sneaker, getting her to look up at him.

"Are you not even going to defend me?" he says jokingly, pulling the bottom of his shorts up his thighs. "This is the second betrayal of the day, love."

The pet name startles her. And so does his fully-revealed thigh tattoo.

"Sorry, but you're pushing thirty," she taunts innocently, smirking at his offended expression. "Get it together."

"Wow. I lend you my umbrella, give you orange slices, try and get you to like me, and this is what I get in return." He's acting like he's speaking to an invisible crowd, waiting for someone to defend him.

"I already liked you," Amaya mutters, her eyes falling to her fidgeting hands. Willow is too distracted with her nachos to pay attention to what either of them is saying.

"Sorry, I can't hear you over the rain." His feet trap her own that are perched on the stool. "One more time?"

Her lips form a thin line as she tries to move her feet away, but she purposely gives up because she secretly likes it. "I said I already liked you. You don't need to try. You're likable, and I'm sure the camp kids agree."

"I like you, Coach Harry," Willow attests out of nowhere. "You're fun, and don't yell at us if we mess up."

He laughs, but Amaya can tell it's out of bashfulness. "You two are boosting my ego. Better stop before I float out of here with a big head."

"You're great at your job, and I've only watched you once," Amaya adds, flattering him even more. "I can tell you enjoy teaching these kids something you're passionate about. That's super special."

Harry gazes at her, eyes softened, and taps her foot with his before releasing them from his trap. "Thanks. It's demanding work, but every day, I come to the field and aim to have the kids go home having learned something. If not that, then the least I want is for them to go home happy, you know?"

She nods, finishing her apple. It's admirable that he talks so highly about what he does and what he wants the kids to get out of it.

"How long have you been coaching?"

"I coached a middle school team about four years back," he answers with a reminiscent look. "Then, once I had to get an actual job at university, I stopped because I no longer had the time. I also lost my love for it with all the stress from my job and classes. After I quit that job, which was a blessing in disguise, I started this summer camp with a couple of friends two years ago. I got my passion for soccer back and became much happier with my life. I do this in the summer and work as an assistant P.E. teacher during the school year. I love it so much."

"That's so incredible, Harry," Amaya commends, smiling at him with genuine awe. "Honestly, what you're providing for these kids is inspiring. I guarantee they go home and talk whoever's ear off about what they did."

He sighs, leaning back on his hands with a soft smile. Willow then hops off the counter and reaches up to hug him. He freezes for a moment but quickly wraps his arms around her, rubbing her back. He whispers something in her ear, and she giggles.

Amaya looks outside to see that the weather has calmed significantly, so she supposes she should get Willow home. "Ready to go?" she asks her. "The storm looks like it passed."

"Do we have to?" she whines.

"Your mom misses you, so yes."

Harry stands. "I can walk you to your car. Think I'll head out too."

He locks up the garage window as Amaya throws away the garbage. Harry then leads them out the back door, locks it, and grabs his backpack on the way out. Standing under the narrow awning, he bends down, encouraging Willow to climb on his back.

"I don't want her cleats to get muddy," he explains as Willow drapes her arms and legs over his body.

When they arrive at the car, Amaya unlocks it and slides the back door open. Willow sits sideways so Harry can take her cleats off and set them under her seat. She holds her fist out to say goodbye, and he bumps it, moving a wet strand of hair out of her eyes.

"Thanks for your help today, Willow. I'll make sure to get you nachos before we do drills tomorrow, so tell your aunt to be here early."

Willow gasps in excitement, and Amaya rolls her eyes playfully. She closes her door and walks to the driver's seat. Harry follows with the umbrella as she leans back against the door, looking up at him.

"Thank you again for the umbrella. And the food. And the company."

"No worries at all. Will you be here tomorrow?"

"Yep. Hopefully, the weather will be nicer. I'll try to be here early so Willow can get her nachos."

"Sweet. Thank you for the company as well. And for the kind words. We'll have to do it again sometime."

"I'd like that." She hands him his umbrella and opens the car door. "Get home safe, Harry."

"Bye, Amaya." His deep voice bids farewell, saying her name like it was meant to be said. Harry then knocks on Willow's window and waves goodbye. "Bye, Willow. Meet me at concessions when you get here."

She nods eagerly. Harry takes his keys out of his pocket and spins them around his pointer finger while walking backward toward his car, the rain dripping off his face and clothes.

Amaya gives him a peace sign before closing the door. She sees him accidentally stepping in a puddle through the window, thoroughly soaking his shoes. He glances back at her and laughs, then turns around to get into his convertible. She puts her Minivan—which is quite embarrassing in comparison to his car—into reverse and pulls out of the parking lot.

Maybe one day she'll ride in his car with him, watching the sunlight hit his face as she learns more about the man who's effortlessly stealing her heart.

——

The next day, Amaya arrives at the high school early so Willow can get her nachos and so she can steal some alone time with Harry.

It's a sunny afternoon, with weather that's not too humid and not too chilly. She's wearing a white romper with sandals, two daisy clips in her hair, and sunglasses. Now that Harry is paying attention to her, she may or may not have gotten dressed up.

Willow springs out of the car, hauling all her necessary stuff, and immediately heads over to the concessions building by the bleachers. She hasn't eaten anything since lunch to save her hunger for the nachos. The camp starts at three today, so she's definitely starving.

Amaya follows her, already seeing her jumping up and down near the open garage window jumping up and down. Then she sees Harry behind the counter with a tray of nachos already made. Damn, he looks good. He wears sunglasses, a red bandana holding his hair back, and a black athletic jacket. For some reason, he looks more like a soccer coach today than the previous days.

She catches Harry's eyes, and he smiles while jerking his chin in greeting. She boldly hops onto the counter and sits cross-legged as Willow settles at the table and braids her hair.

"Hello," he says, poking her daisy hair clips with his fingers. "I love those. Are you going somewhere fancy after this?"

"This is fancy to you? But no, I just wanted to get a little dolled up." She shrugs, trying not to blush. "It's Friday."

"Got any plans tonight?" he asks, fidgeting with his car keys on the counter.

"Nope. Just me in my apartment with my dog."

"Cool, cool. Nice. Uh, did you want a snack?"

Amaya senses a hint of nervousness in his actions and tone. "I'll take some Skittles, please."

Harry reaches into the fridge for the candy and then slides the package to her. She takes it and then lightly touches the bandana that secures his curls.

"I like your bandana."

"It'll be so fuckin' sweaty by the end of the day," he mutters quietly so Willow doesn't hear his foul language.

"Gross," she says with a grimace. "At least it's not raining."

"Yeah, that's true. Did you guys get home safe and sound yesterday?"

"It wasn't too bad of a drive. You?"

"I had to put the top up on my convertible for the first time in a while."

She opens her Skittles and pops one on her tongue. "Your car is so sick, by the way. Kind of sexy."

"Amaya!" he scolds playfully, looking around like what she said was controversial. "You can't be talking to me like that with your cute little outfit."

Her skin heats profusely as she shoves more Skittles in her mouth. Suddenly, and thankfully, a coach walks over and signals Harry to get back to the field since the kids are starting to arrive.

"All right, you two get outta here," Harry says. "See you in a bit."

"Willow, let's go," Amaya says, heading toward the field while throwing the empty nacho tray into the trash. She really scarfed those down.

When she glances behind her at the concessions stand, she sees Harry walk around the building with two items in his hands. Some fateful type of magnetism causes her to go back and meet him halfway.

Once the distance is closed, she sees an orange in one of his hands and a lemon in the other. She furrows her brows, wondering why he randomly has two fruits. Harry starts juggling them as he casually approaches her while whistling a tune. She smiles wide and slowly shakes her head, wanting to question his weird antics.

He stops in front of her, still juggling, until the lemon slips from his hand and drops to the ground. He picks it up and waves jazz hands. "You think I should quit coaching and join the circus?"

"Very impressive," Amaya says, admiring his large hand that effortlessly holds the two fruits. "May I ask why you have an orange and a lemon?"

He shrugs cutely. "A magician never reveals his secrets." She narrows her eyes at him with a twitch of a smirk pulling at her lips. He's acting strange. "Well, I've gotta dip and coach some kids," he adds breezily, tossing the orange up and down.

"All right, you go do that. Have fun with your... fruit."

When he brushes past her, he sneakily slips the lemon into the pocket of her romper. She turns around and stares at him in bewilderment, yet he just smiles innocently at her. The short interaction with him felt like a fever dream.

Amaya stuffs her hand in her pocket and takes the lemon out. Her breath hitches when she looks at it. There's something written on it with a black marker.

262-437-4584

Call me.

- H

She looks up and finds Harry distracted by talking to a coach as they write things on their clipboards.

She puts the lemon back in her pocket for safekeeping and stands on the sidelines, a giddy feeling swirling around with butterflies in her stomach.

——

When the kids are packing up again, Amaya spots Harry walking over, phone in hand, while typing something. Willow is getting picked up by her mom today since it was an evening session, so she decided earlier to stick around and hang out with Harry. She had already said goodbye to Willow before waiting for Harry on the field as he finished his coaching duties. He gave Willow his signature fist bump and a hug before she left.

Harry shuts his phone off when and then jogs the remaining way, placing a gentle arm around Amaya's shoulders. Leaning close, he murmurs, "I was so nervous you'd think that lemon thing was weird, so I apologize for not paying attention to you for the past two hours. I was scared I would look, and you'd be gone."

She laughs and heads toward the concession stand, thoroughly enjoying the weight of his arm on her. "I have to say, no one has ever given me their number on a lemon before. You get extra points for that."

"I don't know why I did that. I was waiting for you and Willow to get here, then finally got the balls to make a move. And I didn't have anything to write my number on, so I stole a lemon from the fridge. It's a scientific fact that it's a close substitute for paper." Amaya snorts a laugh and subtly leans into his side as they clumsily walk under the awning. "I made that up," he adds quickly, guiding her to a table.

"I figured," she replies as she sits next to him.

The sun is taking its time going down, causing golden hour to be in full swing. Harry takes his jacket off, leaving him in a grey T-shirt, and Amaya feels like she could look at him forever. His tanned skin is glowing from the orange hue of the sky, and his eyes are bright with flecks of gold that look like they were taken from the sun. His lips look more pink and inviting than usual.

Harry reaches into his back pocket and takes out a packet of skittles. "I, uh, put these in the cooler so they wouldn't melt," he mumbles, ripping open the package and shaking some out in her palms. "They're for you."

She eats a red one first — the best flavor — before saying, "Thank you, Harry. That's very thoughtful."

He clears his throat and bounces his knee. "So, I know we'll be seeing each other during camp for the rest of the month, but I would really like to see you outside a soccer field filled with kids. We could maybe go bowling or mini-golfing. Something fun, you know?" He shakily runs a hand down his face. "A date is what I'm trying to say. And you can totally reject me. I gave you my phone number on a lemon, so I'd understand."

Amaya places her hand over his so it stops fidgeting. "Harry, I'm not going to reject you. I'd love nothing more than to go out together. I really like you."

He goes still, looks up at her, then exhales sharply, shifting his legs to straddle the picnic table seat. "Yeah? You'd seriously like that? You can pick where we go. I don't care. I just want to hang out with you."

She nods and flips his hand to intertwine their fingers. Harry nudges his foot with hers under the table with a radiant smile. They end up scooting closer to one another, and Amaya peeks behind her to check if people are lingering, but everyone seems to have left.

"I haven't gone mini-golfing in ages, so we should do that," she says, staring at the horizon. "I should get home now, though. I have to feed my dog."

Harry stands and releases her hand. "Mini-golf it is, then. Let me walk you to your car."

He quickly locks the concession stand and then strides over to Amaya, slinging an arm around her waist. They make it to her car, and she leans against the trunk while reaching up to delicately drape her arms around his neck. However, she feels a weight in her pocket when she lifts them up. She forgot about the lemon.

Taking it out, she smirks at Harry. He shyly rests his forehead on her shoulder and mumbles something incoherent. She moves his head away and asks, "What did you say?"

He sighs dramatically and lifts his head, poking at the fruit's wrinkly skin that spent hours in the summer heat. "I said I thought it would be romantic, but now I feel stupid. Look, it's starting to shrivel."

"Harry, it's incredibly sweet. I'll remember this forever."

"You could dry it out and frame it," he says with a breathy giggle.

Amaya throws her head back, laughing, her cheeks aching from smiling all day. "Honestly, it's not a bad idea," she says, rubbing a hand across his firm chest. "But seriously, I can't wait to see you for our date—and to see you in something other than athletic wear."

"Oh, get ready. I'm going to mini-golf in a full suit—perm, eyeliner, the whole shebang."

"I wouldn't care. You'd annoyingly pull it off."

Harry becomes silent before inhaling deeply and stepping closer to her. She places her hands around his neck again. "Drive safe." His hands squeeze her waist. "We'll talk on Monday about our date, yeah?"

"Absolutely." She stares at his lips, and he instantly wets their plush skin. "Can I kiss you? Please?"

"Please," he whispers.

Amaya meets his warm lips, kissing his bottom one with pure infatuation. She feels the slight scruff on his cupid's bow, liking how it scratches against her flushed skin. Harry kisses her back as he presses her closer to his body. His tongue parts her lips and strokes hers with his, getting lost in the heat of the moment like two students trying not to get caught by the principal.

Harry eventually parts from her before kissing down her neck, starting with small pecks and then moving to slow, open-mouthed kisses, nipping softly every so often. Amaya leans her head back, tangling her fingers at the nape of his neck and playing with the knot of his bandana. He moves back to her lips and kisses her, making her quietly whine because she wants more, but she realizes they're in a public parking lot, and she needs to get home. They have all the time in the world to do this on their date.

Resting her cheek on his collarbone, she regretfully says, "I have to go. I'll see you Monday, okay?"

"That's too long," Harry says with a pout.

"It's only three days away."

"I know. Hey, can you wear these again on Monday?" he asks, fiddling with the daisy clips in her hair.

She takes one out and clips it in his hair. "Yes, anything for you." He lifts her off the ground, and she squeals. "I'm leaving now. Behave."

"Yes, ma'am," he says, setting her down and stepping back before another make-out session ensues.

Amaya opens her car door and slides in. Harry taps the top of her Minivan twice before kissing her cheek softly. "I'll miss you, Amaya," he murmurs against her skin.

She shivers at his raspy voice and kisses his dimple. "Bye. I'll miss you, too."

She shuts the door and starts the engine, rolling her window down and watching him walk backward to his convertible a couple spaces away. She notices he's a terrible parker.

"Nice park job, dude," she says while pointing out his car, which has its front right wheel over the white line.

Harry glances over his shoulder to survey his parking. He's still walking backward with his hands in his pockets, his brows furrowed. He trips over his own two feet and stumbles slightly before regaining balance. He looks up at her as she starts laughing at him, and he jokingly flips her off while turning around to get in his car.

He jumps over the door like a charming idiot.

Amaya can't wait to see him again.

Before he can leave, she spontaneously decides to return his romantic lemon gesture. She takes it out of her pocket and grabs a black marker she keeps in her center console, which is full of random junk. She writes her number on the other side, which is luckily not too shriveled, and then adds a heart next to it.

She honks the steering wheel's horn as Harry puts on his seatbelt, and he jolts and gives her the middle finger again. She claps her hands twice and opens her palms, motioning for him to mimic her. He does with a confused expression on his face. Blowing on the lemon so the marker dries, she holds it up. His brows dip even more, but she gets ready to throw it. His hands are in a baseball umpire position as she throws the lemon over to his car, and he reaches forward and catches it with one hand, looking at it with a perplexed frown.

He rolls it around in his hand and then finally sees her number. He slowly smirks and glances up at her.

She waves at him before reversing out of the parking space. She watches him from outside the window and sees him peck his lips on the lemon.

Slowing down her car, Amaya calls out, "Text me tonight! Drive home safe and stop parking like an asshole!"

Harry smiles infectiously while biting his lip, his teeth peeking out. "We can video call if you're comfortable!" he calls back. "I'll miss your face as soon as you leave!"

She rolls her eyes at his cheesiness. "By the way," she adds with her foot on the brake, "what did you whisper to Willow yesterday at the concession stand?"

Harry tilts his head and smiles as he remembers. "I said her aunt is a beautiful woman." He rolls the lemon around in his palm. "And that I really like her."

Blood rushes to Amaya's face as she stares at him in awe. She waves goodbye one last time before driving away, and as she adjusts her romper, she feels something in her pocket. She reaches in and pulls out a bag of orange slices that Harry must have slipped while they were kissing.

On the bag is written:

For Amaya, the one I desire.

(Pretend that rhymes)

- H

She squeals happily like a middle school girl who just found out her crush likes her back, then takes an orange slice out and bites into it.

She lets Harry's sugary sweetness take over her senses the entire way home.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #harry styles x oc #harry styles #adore-laur #orange slices and pocket lemons

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yns-world · 10 months

Text

goddess

pairing: sotf cannibal tribe x fem!reader

warnings: standard sotf stuff— cannibals, death, violence, etc; nsfw under the cut

word count: 1.2k

author’s note: this is a self-indulgent fic and i’m kinda shocked that there isn’t any fics for these cannibal men 😫

you originally wanted to enjoy a beautiful vacation on a neighboring island, and one of the exclusive leisures provided there was a helicopter tour of the nearby islands

oh, how the dreamy vacation would turn into a nightmare.

a bullet shot through the pilot’s window, instantly killing him

the helicopter crashed in the sea, and you would’ve drowned if kelvin didn’t drag you back to shore

although he had sustained more injuries, kelvin and his military training kicked in as he began prepping shelter and starting a fire

the crackling wood of the fire cloaked the sounds of the predators in the forest, but by the time the first arrow was shot, it was already too late.

kelvin was killed, and your head whipped around as you frantically tried to hide— but where? this was an open beach and all you had was the ocean behind you.

a handful of flesh-covered men approached kelvin’s body, butchering him like food

one of them— a burly man covered in war paint— locked eyes on your form and you were terrified

under his animalistic stare, all you could was crumble to the ground and cry as you tried to accept your fate

but what he saw wasn’t another meal— no, what he saw was much, much more. and the rest of the group saw it too.

there was an ethereal beauty radiating off you as you sat on the sand; your white summer dress drenched in salt water, that same salt water dripping from your hair. your bulbous eyes wide in shock and fear, tears cascading down your cheeks to meet and intertwine with the water droplets on your face.

if they were human, then you were a goddess.

the first man was the one to stride towards you, scooping you up in his arms and carried you back to the camp

at the said camp, you were gently placed at a throne made of human flesh and bones, but the sight of it just made you cry even more. you were utterly horrified and your throat was sore.

the men— if you could call them that— knew you were thirsty and hungry, so they offered you bowls of blood and human flesh, but you wouldn’t take it.

a smaller man— someone who couldn’t be older than 22— offered you a handful of berries and you hesitantly accepted it.

over the next few weeks, you were vigilant of your captors. you observed their cannibalistic habits and rituals and didn’t take any part of it.

despite your protests to their way of life, you didn’t make a real effort to escape from their fort. without their food and shelter, you wouldn’t survive a day out there. and as much as it makes you sick to think about it, it’s somewhat better to be around other…humans, you guess.

they barely spoke, mainly communicating through grunts, groans, and absurd yelling, but their point was always made.

over this time, their behavior towards you became gentler, fonder even. less and less of the other campers would eye you out of hunger, and would leave offerings at your feet.

that’s when you began to understand their treatment— they were worshipping you as their god.

before your appearance, there was no real community holding them together, it was every man for himself. but after you, there were whole rituals, songs, and dances dedicated in your honor.

of course, most of them involved the use of human remnants, but you would grow tolerant of this fact. after all, it was them who idolized you and they were worshipping you the only way they knew how.

this tribe of people believed that you were the goddess of life, a representation of mother nature that has come to them in human form.

between them, it is believed that your emotions control the weather; that your utter kindness towards flora and fauna has to be protected and cherished.

eventually, word of your stay would spread to other tribes over the island— to the tribes of the outer beaches and the clans of the caves— and while some were docile and obedient in your reign, others saw this as a challenge to their way of life.

although rare, there would be attempts to hunt and kill you. to these select few, you were seen as a threat.

but you understood where they were coming from, and your sympathy for these cruel men just enhanced the island’s adoration for you— because who else than a merciful god would forgive those who want her dead?

among food, flowers, and other items found on the island, some of the islanders had other ideas as offerings.

nsfw under this point

specifically, the warrior-led men offered up their bodies to you in a way to please you— sexually.

at first, you found it grotesque and rude.

but when you looked at it from their point of view, these were men who had no real sexual experience nor have they felt the love of another person.

your first sexual partner was with the man that had found you on the beach and he was surprisingly gentle.

he sat in front of you, legs wide open with his cock on full display—hard and swollen— but he didn’t make any moves. he stared at you patiently, letting you control the narrative.

you brought your hand to his cock, gently stroking it and that elicited a groan from him that you never heard before

in just a few strokes, he was already leaking with precum, and the sight of him was making you wet

foreplay thrown out of the window, you straddled his lap and lined yourself with his tip, before slowly lowering onto him.

to him, it was painstakingly slow, but he knew better than to lose control and scare you off. so all he could do to cope was grip your thighs with his meaty hands and in that moment he lost it.

the feeling of your soft, succulent flesh in his hands sent him spiraling and he instantly came in your womb. but he was far from done.

after your first sexual encounter, he would soon become a regular body worshipper, but soon others would want to experiment.

there were a variety of worshippers that would come to you—some simply masturbated to the sight of you, while others just wanted to taste the fruit— both literally and figuratively.

there would be some men who’s one true wish is to die eating you out, while others just want to lick the sweet sweat off your skin and bite down on your flesh.

the latter group of people would be under the watchful eye of your original captor (or as you’d like to think, your own bodyguard)

but you found pleasure from all your worshippers. through this practice of relieving their sexual tension, there was a noticeable change in temperaments.

also through this practice, you demonstrated to them what unconditional love and affection truly was— something they had never felt.

after each session, you would bring them close, caress them, sing them a sweet lullaby— whatever their hearts needed at the moment to bring them ease.

even outside of sex, you would offer your love and affection to any and everyone.

to them, you were their goddess.

to you, you felt like a well-protected and well-loved individual.

if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging since that helps my account more than likes :)

don't be a ghost reader!! tell me your thoughts :) i love talking with y'all <3

check my pinned post for request and commission rules if you wish to request anything :)

#yns world #sons of the forest #sotf #the forest #sons of the forest x reader #sotf x reader #sotf kelvin #sotf fanfiction #sotf kelvin x reader #sons of the forest kelvin x reader

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wlykjh · 4 months

Text

music to my ears

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.

masterlist

finally after 2 years and 10 months this series is coming to an end HAHA hope you guys enjoyed reading!

summary: there has always been a strong rivalry between the apollo and ares cabins at camp half-blood, so how will the two opposing sides compose themselves when the son of apollo and the daughter of ares fall in love? (not proofread)

date: 12/29/23

series: txt demigod series (located in masterlist)

scenario themes: percy jackson! au, forbidden love

idol: hueningkai of txt

concept: fluff, tiny amount of angst

warnings: swearing

word count: 3.9k

you've only ever felt betrayal twice in your life.

the first time was when your parents revealed to you that your dad wasn't exactly your father. essentially, that he wasn't your biological parent and the reason they hid it from you was because your father was actually the greek God of war.

the second time was when your half-sister ruined your relationship to fuel a petty cabin war at your summer camp.

the second requires us to go into a bit more detail.

it was your third year at camp half-blood and by now, you knew your way around the place fairly well. you knew the best seat in the mess hall, the best hiding places in the forest, the best spots to throw parties, and more. you also knew that there was only one rule you had to follow as a member of the ares cabin: stay away from the children of apollo.

it's not like apollo and ares themselves didn't get along, but some feud a while ago between both cabin's counselors spread like wildfire throughout the camp, and now the two groups can't stand one another.

you didn't mind since the feud began long before you came to camp half-blood. you didn't need to break off any existing friendships and you can't really miss what you never had.

that was until you met kai huening.

it was a searing, sunny day in the middle of july. you had just finished training with your half-siblings and decided to take a shortcut to the cabins from the training grounds by passing the amphitheater.

you never really had an ear for music, as long as a song was catchy you'd listen to it. you couldn't grasp the idea of a couple instruments moving someone to the point of tears. at least you didn't think you could until you heard the most beautiful piano piece being played in the center stage of the amphitheater.

you recalled hearing about a talent show of some sort being organized by the end of the month but you didn't really pay it much mind. inching closer towards the curtains set up behind the stage.

it seemed like a practice of some sort, with a group of kids sitting around watching the boy play. then he began singing what sounded like a modern rendition of an older song you vaguely remember (just think of fairy of shampoo haha).

his voice combined with the delicate notes he was playing on the piano mesmerized you. it all came so naturally to him, almost as if he was born with music running through his veins.

he played for another minute or so until he switched to another song equally enchanting as the last. you must have stood there for half an hour listening to this mystery man serenade an audience of about ten campers before you snapped back to reality as he began packing up.

straightening yourself up, you shoved your head back behind the curtain, taking a moment to compose yourself for the walk back to the cabins. once you finally started to walk away you heard an extremely familiar voice call out, "excuse me!"

shit. he probably saw me staring and thinks i'm a complete psycho.

bracing yourself, you turned around with a tight-lipped smile on your face. "yes?" you responded. "i noticed you halfway through my practice and was wondering if you had any feedback for me? the talent show's in a couple weeks and i'm starting to get really nervous." the stranger confessed.

"oh, um, honestly no. I'm not exactly a music expert but you were great." you hesitated. the boy smiled widely, extending a hand to you, "i'm kai. and you are?"

"y/n." you smiled in return.

kai stayed beside you for the remainder of your brief walk to the cabins, cracking small jokes and complimenting you along the way. you didn't know why but you felt oddly drawn to him. he was so kind, gentle, and patient.

"so which cabin are you headed to?" he asked once the two of you neared the field. right as you were about to answer, someone interjected calling out kai's name.

you recognize the interferer as a resident of the athena cabin: kang taehyun. he seemed to be close to kai, casually wrapping his arm around the shoulders of the taller boy and carrying him off. kai made sure to shoot an apologetic look coupled with a wave over his shoulder which you happily returned.

you couldn't stop smiling by the time you got back to your bed. kai. you knew nothing else about him, not his last name, not his godly parent, nothing. and yet you were giggling to yourself at the thought of seeing him again.

so much so that your half-sister ryujin had to make sure you hadn't gone insane. "what's gotten into you?" she questioned, plopping onto the corner of your twin bed. "I met a guy" you confessed like a giddy schoolgirl. sure it was a bit embarrassing to admit, but you can't help how you feel.

ryujin simply laughed, shoving you over to make more room for herself on the bed, "what's his name and cabin?"

sheepishly, you turned to face her before confessing that you only knew his first name. you could tell from the change in her expression she was judging you, heavily.

throwing a pillow at her to avoid the shame you felt, you swiftly added, "it's not like I'm in love with him. he's just... cute."

"sure, y/n. because you smile to yourself thinking about every 'cute' guy at camp" she mocked. you were debating whether or not to throw another pillow at her before she started again, "you know, i've been told that I'm a pretty good wingwoman."

if 'pretty good' meant 'terrifyingly bad', ryujin would be absolutely correct. despite her fascination with matchmaking, she had the opposite of the midas touch when it came to relationships. almost every couple she's ever set up has ended in a messy breakup.

you knew this, but you also knew you're fairly awkward and new to romance. maybe ryujin could help as long as she didn't interfere too much. perhaps the ryujin curse was simply a reoccurring coincidence. "okay fine." you mumbled, unsure.

you saw a glint in her eyes and knew you were probably going to deeply regret this.

the next day, ryujin woke you up extra early to get breakfast. her reasoning? you needed to be properly fueled for a day full of 'man-hunting'. as you made your way to find a table to sit at, you noticed kai and taehyun sitting with another person in the corner of your eye. taehyun seemed to be too busy bickering with the third person not so subtle ref to the taehyun fic while kai was more engrossed with writing something in a journal.

before you could react, ryujin was shoving you in their direction, convincing you to sit with them. you tried refusing but she was extremely stubborn, a trait she seems to have inherited from your father.

by the time you arrived at the table, taehyun and his acquaintance looked up at the two of you puzzled. meanwhile, kai greeted you with another one of his signature bright smiles.

"kai! what a coincidence! y/n has been talking about you all morning. mind if we sit? i'm ryujin, by the way." the short-haired girl chirps, blissfully unaware of how embarrassed you are beside her.

kai doesn't seem to mind, though. simply smiling harder and motioning to the spot next to him, which you gladly take. the rest of the breakfast went by awkwardly considering the only two people who really cared to converse with one another were you and kai, but neither of you minded.

once everyone finished eating, he lightly tapped your shoulder to get your attention. "have you ever played the piano?" he inquired. you simply shook your head in response.

he looked around the table before coughing and standing up, "y/n promised me she would help me prepare for the talent show, so I think we should head out," he announced before shooting you a look.

eager, you stood up and nodded in agreement before running off with him away from the others.

once the two of you were finally out of sight, ryujin turned to taehyun. "so... tell me every and anything you know about this kai guy." she declared. rolling his eyes, the boy simply shrugged and retorted, "what do you want to know?"

"just give me the basics. is he a big 3 kid? does he have, like, superpowers? is he a player? or a virgin? and don't lie." ryujin rambled.

taehyun sighed before answering "he's a good guy. a real loverboy, and his only 'superpower' is being crazy good at composing music, which if you ask me is pretty lame. and he's not a big 3 kid, his dad is apollo."

ryujin froze. she must've misheard him. apollo? it can't be. she just set up her half-sibling with a child of APOLLO. if any of their siblings found out they'd both be dead.

"taehyun... does kai know who y/n's godly parent is?" she stammered, to which the other demigod shook his head in response. "well, it's ares." she croaked dramatically.

"so?" he responded. both ryujin and the long-forgotten camper beside him gasped. "so? the ares and apollo cabins can never mix." the stranger declared. ryujin nodded vigorously, which led to taehyun sighing once again.

"cabin feuds are immature, and i never thought you of all people would engage in them." he said, eyeing the demigod next to him, "besides, if y/n's godly parent is ares then that means so is ryujin's, so how are you 'mixing' with her right now?"

immediately, the camper shot ryujin a disgusted look and got up. "i'll see you later, taehyun." they added bitterly before speedwalking away. rolling her eyes, ryujin got up as well, leaving a baffled taehyun alone at the table. as she left the dining hall, ryujin began a desperate search for you to break the bad news.

in the meanwhile, kai had brought you back to the amphitheater, inviting you to learn how to play piano. you were pretty clumsy at first, but he walked you through it patiently.

once you were finally getting the hang of the basics, he decided he wanted to teach you one of his songs. "do you mind?" the brunette prompted as he reached for your hands.

"not at all." you breathed. he kept his fingers over yours as he guided your hands along the keys of the piano. the action felt so intimate and yet so innocent.

you couldn't help but blush at the contact, wondering if he was just as affected by it as you were. looking up, you saw that he was no longer staring at the keys but at you.

he stopped playing but his hands remained on top of yours as he inched closer. you could practically feel his breath on your face. your heart rate began to accelerate as you closed the distance between the two of you, your lips slightly grazing his.

the moment was ruined however by a crazed ryujin bursting from behind the curtains of the amphitheater, shocking the both of you and causing you to hit a loud, sour note on the piano.

"y/n. we need to talk." your half-sister squeaked, avoiding meeting kai's gaze. "can't it wait?" you huffed, visibly annoyed. "no." she deadpanned.

excusing yourself, you ripped your hands away from kai's and stood up, immediately feeling cold and desperate to run back into his embrace.

pulling ryujin aside, you stared at her unimpressed until she began talking. "y/n I don't know how to tell you this, but... he's-that guy--kai is... he's one of apollo's." she stammered, clearly exasperated.

usually, you'd be a bit taken back, but you honestly couldn't bring yourself to care. why should a petty cabin war keep you from someone you like? "this changes nothing, ryu. you're being dramatic." you grumbled.

her expression went from sympathetic to irritated within milliseconds, "y/n! what are you gonna do if the rest of the camp finds out? we don't associate with them." she sneered.

"you sound insane. he's a sweet guy and it's not like we chose our parents." you retorted. "fine. go and tell him and see how he reacts." she challenged.

you simply scoffed before turning and walking back to kai. he wouldn't care... right? you considered telling him, but with seeing how happy he looked, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

"i, um... have to go!" you muttered, collecting your gatherings quickly, leaving behind a confused kai. as you passed ryujin on your way out she followed you, scolding "see? you couldn't even bring yourself to tell him because you know how he'll react-"

you stopped in your tracks and whipped your head around, "ryujin. you will not tell anyone about this. understand?" you warned. it's unlike you to threaten anyone, especially your own siblings but you were exceptionally angry in this situation: a petty cabin war getting in the way of your first potential romance.

ryujin simply nodded, "but you know you'll have to tell him eventually." she added, solemnly. you nodded wordlessly, accepting your fate. he'd either flip out on you or be totally cool with it but then all his siblings would flip out on him. it was a lose-lose situation and you felt hopeless.

for the next two weeks, you made a conscious effort to hide your growing relationship with kai. from constantly insisting that the two of you hung out somewhere hidden like the strawberry fields to making up excuse after excuse as to why he couldn't walk you to your cabin.

you kept your secret for nearly half a month until the day he asked you to officially be his girlfriend. you tried to enjoy the moment but your head was filled with doubt. would he still want to date you if he knew who your father was?

not only that, but you felt guilt piling up inside of you for hiding something so seemingly important from him. before you knew it, you were tearing up.

worried, he immediately rushed to console you. "if you're not ready that's perfectly fine-" he sputtered, panicking. "it's not that," you began as tears dropped onto your cheeks, "i've been keeping something from you, kai, and I'm so sorry,"

"whatever it is, I'm sure it's fine." he replied comfortingly. you shook your head, "the reason i never let you walk me to my cabin is because... because it's-"

"the ares cabin?" he guessed coolly. your jaw dropped, how did he know? he simply laughed, "I thought so after the fourth time you made me duck when another ares camper was walking by. y/n, I honestly don't care, I like you, and I want to be with you. so... will you be my girlfriend?"

overwhelmed, you practically jumped on him, the tear stains on your face now dry. "of course." you sighed, "but... won't we have to keep it a secret?" you added, worried.

"i hope not, because i was planning on dedicating my songs to you tomorrow at the talent show," he admitted sheepishly. you nearly pounced onto him again until you remembered that nearly the entire camp would be there, including your half-siblings.

"as sweet as that sounds kai... I don't think that's a good idea. how will people react?" you hated how much you sounded like ryujin at that moment, but you couldn't help but worry.

"if you don't want me to, I won't, otherwise i really don't care." he shrugged. it pained you to do so but you asked him not to, as you were still nervous about the reaction from the campers.

you knew you would have to reveal your relationship eventually as you didn't want to keep kai in hiding, but you just didn't know when the right timing would be.

but who needs timing when they have a nosy half-sister who's hiding behind a statue listening to your whole conversation?

ryujin wanted what was best for you, and she knew that this relationship would only hurt you. so she decided to hatch a plan that would prevent it from going any further.

while you were out with kai she assembled all the other ares cabin residents to discuss how to break the two of you up. your hidden relationship came as a shock to all your siblings, with most of them spewing profanities at apollo and his son upon finding out.

they ultimately decided that they would just have to sabotage his performance and find a way to put it on you. kai adores music, so why not target the thing he loves the most? the plan was cruel, but they firmly believed it was what you needed to see the reality of your situation.

when you finally found yourself back at the cabin, you could tell your siblings were acting off. however, you couldn't care less after the day you had with kai. blissfully unaware, you collapsed onto your bed, excited for the upcoming talent show and seeing your boyfriend perform.

if only you knew.

you woke up the next morning to a completely empty cabin. despite being confused initially, you brushed it off and got ready to find a seat at the talent show.

finally seated, you spotted kai standing off to the side of the stage, sending him a small wave. unbeknownst to you, your half-brother saw, scoffing and praying for the plan to work.

after an hour of the program running smoothly, you saw a large piano being rolled to the center of the stage, with kai following. excitedly, you waited to hear his set as he sat down to his instrument and adjusted his microphone.

however, once he began playing the piano the once beautiful notes came out odd-sounding and unprepared. it was evident that the piano had been tampered with, and even more evident that kai was completely shocked.

a silence loomed over the crowd until a certain section began bursting into laughter, that section being cabin #5, aka ares cabin.

you felt betrayed as you looked at your siblings giggling at kai's embarrassment, and even more so when ryujin simply smiled at you, whispering, "it's for the best."

disgusted, you looked to kai. who looked absolutely furious and wouldn't meet your eye. flickering your eyes over to the apollo cabin section, you felt their gazes hitting you and your siblings like daggers.

kai stormed off towards camp and you quickly got up and ran after him. finally catching up to him, you panted "kai wait! I had no idea, I'm so sorry."

he didn't even bother turning around before responding, "maybe they're right. it would never work out between us." he explained coldly. you felt your heart shatter as you watched him walk away.

that night, you refused to speak to any of your siblings, especially ryujin. they initially confronted you, then apologized, then begged for you to at least look their way.

you didn't care if you were being unreasonable, you were enraged. how could ryujin betray you like that? how could they all disregard your feelings? you felt hurt more than anything else.

you could barely sleep that night, only thinking of how upset kai must be. he trusted you, and all you did was prove that the ares cabin really is his biggest enemy. he'd never take you back.

you didn't have it in you to get up the next day. alternating between pretending to sleep and ignoring your siblings, you stayed in bed until 3 pm. you felt like shit and you couldn't be bothered to face anyone in the camp. that was until you heard a commotion outside the cabin door.

peeking through the blinds for your first glimpse of daylight, you saw one of your half-brothers and another camper getting into a heated argument, watching as your other siblings got into confrontations of their own with people you've never seen before.

that's when you realized that the people they were arguing with were the children of apollo.

you ran outside, not caring that you were in your pajamas with horrible morning breath and bed hair. all you cared about was where kai was in all this mess.

you spotted him trying to break up a fight between ryujin and the camper you saw before sitting with taehyun and kai.

"kai! what's going on?" you yelled over all the noise. you watched his face soften for a moment when he saw you just to turn into a scowl, "i'm not sure." he responded distantly.

you attempted to calm down ryujin as kai did the same with his sibling until you heard a loud smack.

it was complete silence as the campers tried to comprehend what just happened. after about thirty seconds of stillness, the campers began going back to fighting, except this time with much more violence. it didn't take long before mr. d and chiron showed up frantically trying to break up the students.

once the dust had settled, the two adults sat the restless demigods down and scolded them for what felt like an eternity. "what started this all? I know you've had some... issues for a while now but why today?" the centaur finally asked.

kai quickly glanced at you, which you only noticed because you had been staring at him for the entirety of the time you were getting reprimanded.

to everyone's surprise, ryujin spoke up first, "i found out that one of my siblings and someone from the apollo cabin were... seeing each other."

gasps erupted among the apollo kids as kai hung his head low. "i told my siblings and we decided to ruin the talent show for them. it was purely out of pettiness and hatred for people i've never even spoken to. i now realize how immature it was and I'm deeply sorry." she looked at you during the last portion of her speech.

you wanted to forgive her, after all she's your sister. but she's also the reason kai still won't acknowledge you.

the next thing you know, campers one by one admitted the ways they had wronged the other side and apologized, sincerely. like that one scene from mean girls.

you felt like you had something to get off your chest as well, and you couldn't keep it in anymore, "i was the one 'seeing' someone from the apollo cabin," you started.

another round of gasps.

"and that's not what I want to apologize for. i handled it horribly. trying to keep it a secret from everyone, including my own siblings and closest friends. I shouldn't have hid it. I'm truly so, so sorry." you professed.

you saw the corner of kai's lips slightly go up, and that's all you needed to feel content. mr. d wrapped the mini-therapy session up and the demigods on both sides swore to end this feud once and for all.

you decided to forgive ryujin and your siblings but you would be lying if you said you were over it all, especially because you couldn't even bring yourself to initiate a conversation with kai.

luckily for you, he approached you first. "i accept your apology... and i'm sorry for being so rude earlier," he faltered.

you were about to respond when he began speaking again, "I'm not sure how we got into this mess but, i want a do-over. do you think we could do that?" he asked with his signature smile. how could you say no?

"yes." you beamed, extending a hand. "i'm y/n, daughter of ares. and you are?"

"kai." he replied, "son of apollo."

"okay, kai, son of apollo. will you go out with me?" you asked, half-jokingly.

"i would love that."

#txt #txt fluff #txt imagines #txt scenarios #kpop scenario #txt reactions #hueningkai #hueningkai x reader #hueningkai scenarios #Percy jackson #pjo

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obxone · 1 year

Text

For Me

Edited-ish-- ~1.9k words. Rafe Cameron x Reader

Master Page

You glanced up from counting how many children were left to be picked up when the door opened and Kelce stepped into the lobby. “Hey, Kelce! Here for your little brother?”

He nods, clasping his hands. “Yes, is he ready?”

“Sure is!” You flip the clipboard to face him and he signs his name. “How was your day?”

“Better than yours,” he smirks at you before shrugging. “Not bad. Played some golf with Topper and Rafe.”

“My day was so much better,” you return with sass and he snorts. “Are you kidding me? I would much rather run around a summer camp with a bunch of 5 to 10-year-olds than deal with a drunk or high Rafe.”

Kelce laughs. “Fair.” You walk with him down the hall towards the large playroom that the last remaining children were in. “When are you going to give my boy a chance?”

You pause turning to him, crossing your arms over your waist. “You and I are friends right Kelce?”

He nods. “Yeah. I would say so.”

“Then why would you want your friend to be with that douche?”

Kelce’s lips parted in shock.

“I’m sure he’s a great friend to his fellow kook buddies, he’s decent with his family, and he’s a good time with all those girls, but at the end of the day, he’s not a good guy to anyone else. So respectfully no, Kelce.”

“Okay, I’ll stop asking.” He holds his hands up in innocence. “Rafe asked me to try.”

“What?!” You ask, pausing at the doorframe and turning to him with wide eyes.

Kelce shrugs. “Can you blame him? Your family is one of the oldest families in this area, you volunteer at a summer camp three weeks out of the summer instead of partying on a yacht like the rest of your friends, and you are one of the best-looking girls on the island.”

“Kelce!” You shove him while a blush spreads across your face. “Thanks, I mean it, but Rafe would need to change a few things if he wants anything from me.”

“I’ll let him know,” Kelce flashes a smile before you both step into the room and his brother abandons his blocks to come running in excitement. “Have fun!” He sings songs over his shoulder as they leave the facility. You go back to the desk after waving at the teacher and getting a headcount to match the clipboard.

— — — —

Camp had ended and now you were spending your days by the pool, reading, and going to the clubhouse for lunch when a simple pb&j didn’t sound good. Your parents left you to your own devices. They trusted you and were far too busy most of the time anyway. Sarah Cameron was meeting you for lunch, and you were a tad bit late as you slipped into the entrance. You checked your dress to make sure it was smooth and perfect as expected before walking further in.

“Well if it isn’t our most popular Kook Princess,” Rafe’s voice says from your right as you pass to get to the back patio. You pause and turn to see him, Kelce, and Topper at the bar, each holding a drink.

“Well if it isn’t the three stooges getting drunk in the middle of the day,” you respond, hand on your hip. “How charming.”

Kelce smirks over the rim of his drink knowing your spitefulness was more towards Rafe than him. Topper laughs while leaning back against the bar.

“Topper. Kelce.” You direct your attention to them. “You should find better company to keep.”

You turn to leave, but Rafe’s hand encloses your wrist stopping you. He smirks looking down at you.

“I don’t have time for this Rafe. I’m already late.”

“For what?” He asks, his breath fanning over your face. The smell of rum on his breath. “Do you have a date?!”

You frown and then try to tug your wrist free, but he doesn’t let go. “Charming as ever Rafe, but no I’m meeting your sister for lunch.”

“Sarah can wait, join us for a drink,” he gestures to the bar with his other hand that still clutches his drink.

“Thank you, but no.”

He shakes his head. “I’m starting to get the impression you think you are too good for us Princess.”

“Us implies the others, but it’s just you.” You try to tug free again, but he still doesn’t let go. “Rafe!”

“Yes, Princess?”

“Let me go. Now.”

He frowns before releasing you. “I’ll see you later okay? Maybe once you eat you’ll stop being such a bitch.”

There it was, your breaking point. Your hand connects with his face hard as you slap him. He stands stunned as you turn to leave him behind. You smile at Sarah once you get onto the deck. A sigh of relief comes from you as you join her at the table.

“Your brother is inside, already drunk, and a complete dick.”

“Oh,” she murmurs glancing towards the window that looks into the bar. And he’s there, staring at you, a harsh look on his face and a red mark where you hit him evident. “Is he okay?”

“He called me a bitch so I slapped him,” you say quickly while spreading the napkin on your lap.

“Whoa!”

You frown. “I didn’t enjoy it that much.”

She laughs and you join in before glancing as JJ steps up to the table.

“Ladies, what can I get for you?”

You study him. “Hey, Maybank. How’s life?”

He shrugs, studying you. “Less like a gilded cage.”

You bite your lip looking down at the menu while a blush paints itself across your neck and face and Sarah watches with interest. You had told him that’s how you felt during a kegger when you were wasted and kissing him.

“I’ll have a salad with grilled chicken and the house dressing,” Sarah says after you don’t respond for a moment. You look up then.

“Same.”

He nods, his blue eyes on you and he doesn’t leave to place the order until Sarah clears her throat. He turns then with a shake of his head. You look at Sarah who is staring at you with a knowing look.

“Damn it,” you mutter, burying your face in your hands. She laughs squeezing your shoulder.

“You ladies order already?” Rafe asks, plopping into the chair beside you opposite Topper who takes the other one.

“Yes as a matter of fact we did,” Sarah says turning to her brother. “You should probably go sober up before you get thrown out.”

Rafe turns to you, quirking an eyebrow. “What? Are you going to slap me again?”

“Only if you deserve it,” you mutter and glance as JJ fills your water glass. He chuckles and that’s all it takes for Rafe to be out of his seat, hand fisting JJ’s shirt pulling him closer. You stand before Topper can and Sarah grabs his arm stopping him as well. You put as much of yourself between them. You take the pitcher from JJ passing it to Sarah who takes it. “Rafe, step away,” you say, your voice even. Sarah and you both look around the deck noticing people are turning to look. “Rafe, now.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” he seethes before his angry blue eyes flash to JJ who stands just behind you. His chest against your back and Rafe’s arm over your shoulder gripping his black polo shirt still.

“I do because you are making a scene and if you want to keep coming here I suggest you do as I say.” You raise your hand to his chest and gently apply pressure. “My family donates more money than yours. Rafe, so help me, I will get you banned if you don’t walk away.”

He looks at you. “Are you protecting this dirty pogue right now Princess?”

“No,” you say raising your hand to his cheek. You touch where you had slapped him earlier. “I’m protecting you and the reputation of your family right now.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”

“Rafe,” you say, tone sharper keeping his focus on yourself. “Let him go. He’s doing his job. That is it.”

Rafe looks at you. You smile weakly at him before slipping your other hand around his outstretched arm. You drag your hand up until to his bicep and squeeze lightly.

“Let him go, Rafe, please.” You soften your voice after you notice a manager and security coming up the stairs off to your left. “For me, please.”

He stares at you and you see his gaze soften. He lets JJ go and you glance at JJ.

“Go to the kitchen JJ. I can’t stop them from firing you.”

He ducks his head and goes without another word, his jaw set in anger, but he goes. You turn back to Rafe. His hands grasp your waist now, staring at you hard. You shiver at everything unsaid in his expression.

“Sarah, can I have a rain check?” You ask not breaking eye contact with him.

“Sure.”

“Okay, come on,” you grasp Rafe’s hand and exit the deck and walk towards the golf course. You don’t look back, but you know they are all watching until you are out of sight. You stop once you are past the dunes and turn to Rafe. His lips are on yours. One of his hands tangles in your hair and the other falls to your waist pulling you as close as he can. You kiss him back, hands clinging to his shirt until the kiss ends, and then you step back. “Rafe, that’s not…” You wrap your arms around yourself before walking further away from him towards the water. He follows you and when you sit down and he joins you. You look at him. “What do you want from me?”

“Kelce told me what you said.”

You sigh looking back at the water. “Of course he did. He said he would.”

Rafe smiles while playing with a blade of tall grass he plucked from the sand. “I don’t like the way JJ looks at you.”

“I don’t like the way you treat JJ,” you respond right after.

He frowns. “Do you like him?”

“What?!” You ask, looking at him again. He stares at you, waiting for the truth. “No. JJ and I had a moment earlier this summer, but it was just that 'a moment'. We made out at a party.”

“At The Boneyard?”

You bob your head. “A few too many beers.”

He smirks, “didn’t realize I missed a fun night.”

“Shut up.”

He laughs making you sigh.

“JJ is a friend. I know you and the others are all about this kook versus pogue life, but I’m not and I won’t be.”

“Okay,” he responds chunking the piece of grass. “Who’s the better kisser though?”

You scoff, shaking your head, staring at the sunlight reflecting off the waves. “I’m not answering that.”

He grins, his hand pushing your hair behind your shoulder. “You can tell me. I won’t rub it in his face.”

“Rafe!” You scold looking at him. He smirks before dragging his finger down the side of your face, then to your chin, before hooking under your chin and guiding your lips back to his. You kiss him unable to stop from leaning into him. Your fingers curl into his shirt until you gently push him back an inch or so. “I meant what I said to Kelce.”

“I know,” he whispers, his nose brushing yours. “I promise to lay off JJ and do better, be better.”

You exhale before pecking his lips. “You are the better kisser.”

Part II

#outer banks #obx #outer banks fic #obx fic #outer banks rafe cameron #outer banks rafe #obx rafe cameron #obx rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #obx fluff #outer banks fluff #rafe cameron

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sfb123 · 1 year

Text

Hands Down

Chapter 1: "Dear No One"

Catch up here!

Pairing: Liam x Riley

All characters belong to Pixelberry

Summary: Can Liam and Riley still find their way to each other despite Riley turning down Maxwell's invitation to Cordonia?

Rating: G

Word Count: 2,591

Song Inspiration: Dear No One - Tori Kelly

A/N: We're officially off and running, thank you all so much for the warm reception of the prologue. Your excitement is making me even more excited to get this out to you!

A/N 2: Spoiler alert, there's no Liam in this chapter. But I promise it's still worth reading.

A/N 3: Thank you @txemrn for pre-reading.

Tags are below the cut/in the comments. If you'd like to be added or removed, please let me know!

Riley was on cloud nine as she walked the familiar path back to her apartment, making a mental checklist of everything she would need to do over the next month. She was excited and nervous, but this was everything she had ever wanted.

Over the last few months, Riley had been focusing on school. It was her last year of college, where she majored in dance and minored in education. When she wasn’t studying, she was working. In addition to her job at the bar, she was assisting at the dance studio that she had attended as a child.

The last month had been the busiest: finals, graduation, and the studio’s annual recital. Once all of that was finished, she jumped right into working the studio’s summer camp, all while spending her nights working at the bar. However, today was the day that made it all worth it. After the students had left for the day, the owner of the studio pulled Riley aside and offered her a full time teaching position when classes started up again in the fall.

This job was exactly what she had been working for. When she was growing up, the studio was her favorite place to be. The students and teachers were her friends, her extended family. When she was nine, she decided that she wanted to teach dance, and be what her teachers were to her for other kids who were trying to find their place in the world. She would have been happy teaching anywhere, but to be able to teach at her studio, her home, was the ultimate dream.

She entered her apartment, dropping her keys on the table by the door. She plopped down on the couch, her head falling back as she let out a wistful sigh.

“Finally!” Her friend and roommate, Daniel said as he entered the living room. “I need your help,” he lifted his arms, each containing a dress shirt on a hanger. “Which one?” He held them up to his torso one at a time.

“Another date?”

“You know it,” Daniel smirked.

Riley rolled her eyes as she pointed to the green shirt. “That’s three dates this week.”

“Four, you forgot about my double header Saturday,” He corrected her. “How was camp?”

The corners of Riley’s mouth turned upwards, a wide grin slowly spreading across her face. “Pretty well, Christie offered me a full time teaching position when the season starts up in September.”

Daniel’s fingers froze in place on the button he was trying to secure. “Shut. Up.” Riley nodded her head, unable to contain her excitement. “Ri, this is amazing!” He rushed to the couch, she stood just in time for him to wrap her in a bear hug. “That’s my little Debbie Allen.”

“So, now that I’m going to be teaching full time, I’m only going to need the one job.” She said tentatively as she pulled out of his embrace.

“Yeah, I kind of figured that was coming.” The moment was interrupted by the chime of Daniel’s phone. He pulled it from his pocket, and took a quick look at the screen. “Oh crap. Riley, you know I’d stay and celebrate, but I’ve gotta-”

“No, totally. Get out of here.” She playfully punched him on the arm. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Oh please,” Daniel groaned. “If I did that, I wouldn’t be going out in the first place.” He leaned down, kissing her on the cheek before hurrying out of the apartment.

Riley sat back down on the couch and picked up the remote, turning on the television and sighing to herself. Getting this job was the best news she had probably ever received, her dream was coming true. She should be celebrating, but she was sitting home alone, watching reruns.

She understood; the world didn’t revolve around Riley Brooks. Her friends all had plans; she would never ask them to cancel for her. It was moments like this where she missed having someone to celebrate with. Since her last relationship ended, she had put dating on the back burner; she wanted to focus on her studies, but more than that, she felt she needed to take time to heal her heart. However, Riley had always been a hopeless romantic, waiting for Prince Charming to come sweep her off her feet.

And when he finally did, she was too scared to pursue it.

If she were being honest with herself, that was part of the reason she had kept so busy in her final semester. She was trying to ignore the nagging regret that had consumed her since she rejected the invitation to compete in the Cordonian social season. Not a day had gone by since her night on the town with Liam that she hadn’t thought about him. Missed him even. But she had blown her chance. The social season will be coming to an end soon. Liam was about to choose his bride. A woman that would probably make him forget all about her. Riley pushed past her thoughts of the man she could never have, and turned her focus back to the television.

***

A few days later, Riley was at her father’s house for a family dinner that had been put together both as a congratulatory gathering to celebrate her new position, and because her sister Danielle had an announcement to make.

“Did you tell her to be here earlier than the rest of us?” Riley’s mother, Tina, asked her ex-husband as they sat in the living room of Riley’s childhood home.

“I told her to be here thirty minutes earlier than I told you two,” Riley’s father responded. “She must have caught on.”

As if on cue, the front door opened, and Danielle entered, followed by her girlfriend Sophie. They walked into the living room, unphased by their tardiness. “Hi everyone!” Danielle said to the annoyed and impatient faces of her family. “Jeeze, good to see you guys, too.”

“It would have been better to see you forty five minutes ago, when you were supposed to be here,” Riley teased. “Can we eat now? I’m starving.”

“No, not yet. We have an announcement!” Danielle said, raising her right hand to halt her family. “So as you already know, Sophie and I were out of town for the last couple of days. But what you don’t know is that it was to celebrate our engagement!”

With that, she and Sophie each raised their left hands, showing off matching oval halo diamond rings. Tina sprung up from her seat, pulling Danielle and Sophie into a hug.

“This is wonderful,” her grip tightened. “I’m finally going to be a mother of the bride!”

“Way to make it about you, Mom,” Danielle’s voice was muffled against her mother’s shoulder.

“Congrats, kiddo,” David said, prying the couple away from Tina.

“Thanks, Daddy.”

Riley approached them next, “Congratulations, Dani.” She pulled her sister into a hug before turning to Sophie. “My condolences.” She said to her future sister-in-law, who chuckled in response. “No, seriously. We’re stuck with her; you’re choosing to be with her.” Riley joked.

“Ow!” She yelped when she felt a slap on her shoulder. Her head turned to the side to find her mother scowling at her. “Congratulations.” She muttered as she dramatically rubbed her arm.

“Thank you,” Sophie replied. “Thank you all. You guys have always been so welcoming to me, and I’m really excited to become part of the family.”

“Oh please,” David scoffed. “You’ve been a member of the family for years now. This just makes it official.” He patted Sophie on the shoulder. “Now let’s eat!”

As everyone made their way to the dining room, Riley lingered behind. She was happy for her sister, she really was, and Sophie was perfect for her. A perfect addition to the family. It just served as another reminder that, despite her professional achievements, there was still something, or someone, missing.

Throughout dinner, the conversation focused on Danielle and Sophie’s news. Everyone wanted to know how it happened, what Sophie’s family said, and if they had made any wedding plans.

“We’re going to keep it pretty small,” Danielle explained. “Just close friends and family. It helps that Ri won’t need a plus one,” she joked.

Tina and David chuckled while Riley narrowed her eyes at her sister. “I’ve been focusing on finishing school, and getting a job,” she protested.

“We’re both still in school, and managed to get engaged,” Danielle shrugged.

Riley crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, but I was in my last year, and I have been working toward a very specific goal. You have switched majors three times, and you’re only in your second year!”

“Alright,” Tina’s mother interrupted. “That’s enough. This is supposed to be a happy occasion. You both have major milestones to celebrate, and there isn’t one that is better or more important than the other. Your father and I are proud of both of you,” she assured them. “And who knows? A couple of years from now, we will probably be sitting around this table celebrating Dani’s new career, and Ri’s engagement.”

Riley and Danielle mumbled their apologies as they typically did when they would get into arguments. As their attention moved back to the meal, David decided to redirect the conversation. “So Ri, how many classes do they have you in charge of?”

“I’m teaching ten of my own, and assisting five.” She replied, pushing her food around on her plate.

As much as she appreciated her father trying to bring things back to her, she couldn’t help but feel like she had been overshadowed by her sister’s news. Once again, she felt that pang of loneliness in her heart.

At the end of the night as everyone was saying their goodbyes, Tina pulled Riley aside. “Ri, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You got quiet after your fight with your sister.”

Riley sighed. “It’s just annoying. I came in here all excited about my news, and I just felt kind of overshadowed.” It was a half truth, she felt silly telling her mother the rest.

“Riley, you have worked so hard to get where you are, and I couldn’t be prouder of you,” her mother assured her. “As for the other part,” Riley arched a brow, “I’m your mother. I know you better than you think.”

“I know it’s hard to be alone, especially after having someone for a while. But you have been focusing on yourself, and that’s more important than anything else. You have to love yourself before you can love someone else.”

Riley rolled her eyes. “Sure, Mom.”

“It’s a cliche for a reason. Besides, you and your sister are different people; you always have been. You’re the level headed one, the one who plans and worries. Your sister just,” she waived her hand back and forth, trying to come up with the right words. “She just goes with the flow. You’re doing everything right, and you’re going to get everything you want.”

“How do you know?”

“Again, I’m your mother. I know things.”

Riley chuckled and pulled her mother into a hug. “Thanks, mom.”

***

The next night, Riley and Daniel entered the bar together for their shift. They were greeted by their manager Eli, his welcoming smile quickly morphed into a scowl when he realized that it was them, and not a customer.

“It’s about time,” he hissed.

Daniel rolled his eyes while Riley took a deep breath. Eli was never in a good mood, so she knew there wasn’t going to be a right time to talk to him. She decided to rip the bandaid. “Eli, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“You had better make it fast. We have customers that need to be taken care of.” Without another word, Eli stormed toward his office. Riley looked over to Daniel, who offered an encouraging smile. “Today, Miss Brooks!” Eli called from the back of the room, catching the attention of some of the patrons. Riley trotted in the direction of his voice.

Once she stepped inside, Eli closed the door behind her. “Let me save us both some time. The answer is no.”

“The answer to what?” Riley asked, confused by the statement.

“I’m not a fool,” he began. “And despite what you and your friend think of me, I am not oblivious to the things going on around here. I know you just received a bachelor's degree, however I also know that it is not in a field that would benefit this establishment in any way. Therefore, your degree does not entitle you to a raise.”

“Oh,” Riley replied in a surprised tone. “No, it’s not that. It’s about my graduation, but I’m not looking for a raise. I actually received a full time offer to teach, and it pays enough that I will only need the one source of income. So I… Well, this is my two week’s notice.” Riley had never quit a job before, and she hated confrontation, so the words spilled out of her at a rapid pace. “But I’ll have my regular availability, and I could probably do some extra hours if -”

Eli lifted his hand to halt her word vomit. “I don’t need your life story.” He said coldly. “Your resignation is accepted.” Riley let out a breath, she felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. “That doesn’t mean you just coast for the next two weeks.” He reminded her curtly.

“Oh no, of course not.” She replied quickly.

“Then get back to work!”

Riley exited the manager's office, the sound of the door opening pulled Daniel’s attention away from the customer he was waiting on. He locked eyes with her. She gave him a shrug and a half smile as she made her way to her post behind the bar. He scribbled down the order and hurried to Riley.

“Well?” He asked, nudging her with his shoulder.

Riley chuckled as she slid a pint of beer across the bar. “It’s done. I will only be a waitress for two more weeks.”

Daniel gave her a questioning look as he passed his customer’s order to the kitchen. “Then why do you look like your dog just died?” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Riley, this is amazing! You’re starting your dream job, and in two weeks you’ll have your nights free, you’ll be able to have a social life again!”

“Right,” Riley scoffed. “A social life, because I’m so good at those.”

“That’s what you’ve got me for.” Daniel grinned. “I’m going to get you out and having fun. Maybe even get you on a date or two,” he winked.

Riley rolled her eyes at her friend. “Yeah, sure.”

“Listen,” Daniel started in a more serious tone. “Baby steps, I’m not going to force you to go to parties every night, or surprise you with random blind dates, but you deserve to be happy, Ri. Not just dream-job-college-graduate happy, you deserve to be everything happy.”

Riley smiled softly. “Thanks, Daniel. You’re the best.” She pulled him into a hug.

Their tender moment was interrupted by the ringing of the kitchen bell, notifying them of an order that needed to be delivered to a customer’s table. “That’s me,” Daniel said as he pulled away and went to the kitchen to gather his order, promptly returning with a plate in each hand. “Let’s get you through the next two weeks first,” he encouraged. “After that, everything’s going to change.”

Permatag:

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Liam:

@amandablink @custaroonie @jared2612

TRR:

@21-wishes @ao719 @belencha77 @burnsoslow @lovingchoices14 @the0afnan

Hands Down:

@imjusthereforliam @kristinamae093

@choicesficwriterscreations

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lovelyrocker · 5 months

Text

Like Me Part Eleven

Bones & All (AU)

Warnings: Blood, Murder Scene, Violence, Cannibalism, Arguing, Angst, Language

Characters: Lee, Reader, Liam(OMC)

Parings: None

Word Count: 2,824

She woke up with the sun, turning over in the queen bed to yet another empty spot next to her. She sat up looking around the room. The bed next to her was cold, making her wonder if he even came to bed last night. Like most nights this past week Lee has been staying on the couch in the living room. She had no idea why but didn’t pry either.

After dressing and making the bed Y/N went downstairs to find Lee asleep on the couch in the living room. Just as she thought she would. She went to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee before going into the living room to wake Lee. To her surprise he was already awake, sitting up on the couch.

“Hey.” She said, leaning against the door frame.

“Hey.”

“So, what’s with you sleeping down here lately?” She asks, staying across the room.

Lee ran a hand over his face. “Just thought it would be better for now.”

“How come?”

“Just cause.” He stood, folding his blanket.

You gave a nod as he continued to put away his sleeping stuff. “You still want to take Liam camping this weekend?”

“Yeah. I figured we can leave tonight. When I get off of work.”

“I’ll pack today while you’re gone.” She tells him, watching him closely.

“Okay.” Was all he said, still not looking at her.

He felt hands gently touching his bare arms and he stopped. “Please talk to me.” She whispered, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Don’t close yourself off like you did.”

He turned, facing her. “That’s not what this is.” He told her quickly, taking her face into his hands. “I’m not trying to do that again. I promise.” He looked deep into her eyes. “There are some things I just want to keep you from.”

“Lee-”

“I know you want to know all of it but I don’t want you to.” He stroked her face with his thumb. “Please understand that.” She gave a nod and he kissed her forehead. “Thank you.”

She packed all of their bags and gear while Lee was at work, Liam jumping all around the house excited to go camping. She laughed as he rolled up his little sleeping bag and placed it on the pile.

When Lee got home they loaded up the old pick up and headed out. Liam was a bouncing mess like he hadn’t been camping dozens of times in the last few months. They drove a few hours out of the way in the opposite direction that Lee last took Liam to “hunt”. Lee was quieter than normal. He didn’t really say must to Y/N or even look at her.

That didn’t stop her from noticing him, though. The way he seemed like he had a constant lump in his throat. How he couldn’t take a deep breath. His fingers twitched as he gripped the steering wheel. His eyes didn’t focus fully.

They pulled into an old forgotten campsite on the outskirt of a small town. The outer grass and trees were overgrown. The fire pit was last used way too long ago. Dark black soot was spread across the area. The lake way off in the distance left a bit of leeway from the mosquitos. No one was around. Not another camper for a while. Secluded.

Lee sets up the tent as you make sandwiches while Liam chases fireflies. Le made smores with Liam as you watched them talk about the day and Liam told Lee about the puppy he saw at the park.

After a while Lee got him asleep. After two stories and a song. Lee shook his head as he walked out of the tent he saw you sitting next to the fire, covered in a blanket. She looked back and saw him. Holding out an arm she offered Lee the spot next to her beneath the blanket. He sat down and she placed the blanket over his shoulder before wrapping her hands around her mug.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so weird.” He tells her.

“I trust that if it was something serious, you’d tell me.” She placed her mug to the side. “I just want to know if you are okay.”

Lee nods. “I’m okay.” He pushes her hair behind her ear. “It’s just an. . .eater thing.” She nods as her eyes drift to the ground covered in leaves. “Hey,” He places his hand on her cheek. She looks up at him. “I’m okay.” She nods, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Lee leans his face into her hair and breathes deep. She looks up at him, his eyes are shut as he breathes deeply. Leaning closer she presses her lips to him. He melts into her, his hands gripping her body. The kiss grows deep, Lee tasting her like a starving animal. She feels his lips on her neck trailing kisses down to her shoulder, pulling her shirt away as he goes.

He stops at her pulse point, her racing heart causing her blood to rush through her veins. He drags his lips across her skin followed by the gentle feel of his teeth barely ghosting over her skin. “Lee?” She can feel him panting as he inhales her scent. She tries to back away but he holds her there. His grip on her arms is bruisingly tight.

He pulls away, not looking up at her, breathing shallow. “I‘ve gotta-” He backs away. “I- I need air. I need to-” He stands. “I’ll be back later.” He starts walking away.

“Lee, wait!” You stand and start to go after him.

He turns, holding his hands out to stop you. “Stop!” He shouts. “I just need to clear my head. I’ll be back.” His brow is furrowed and fearful as he looks at you. “I promise.” He tones soften and is more assuring. Or at least he was trying to be. “I promise. I will be back.”

Wrapping your arms around yourself you nod. “Okay.”

He turned, walking away. “Don’t wait up.”

She lay in the tent for hours, looking at the stars through the netting tent top. She looked over at the watch next to the sleeping bag. Two am. She grumbled and tossed the watch aside. He’d been going for five hours. She was starting to get worried. Braking sticks pulled her from her worrying.

Crawling out of the tent she zipped it behind herself. She heard the branches and leaves crushing again. “Lee?” She calls gently. She walks to the edge of the trees and calls again. “Lee?!” She jumps when a rabbit hops across the grass out of the tree line. She gives a chuckle to herself as she realizes it is an animal.

A laugh catches her attention in the distance. She looks back at the tent, Liam asleep safely. She looks around making sure no one is around to worry about. After she is satisfied he is safe she follows the sound of broken laugher and rustling. After walking into the woods she see a flashlight in the distance. She stops as the light gets closer. They obviously have no clue she is there because they are moving closer to her. She remains still as she realizes they are Lee. Lee and some girl she’d never seen before, in a skimpy two piece. They are sitting on a downed tree, laughing, flirting.

Her blood boils as she sees him whisper something into her ear. The girl leans close to Lee, nibbling beneath his ear. Y/N can feel her face growing hot at the sight in front of her. Lee’s arm around another woman, his lips on her skin.

She watched as Lee’s eyes popped open with the shift of the wind. His head snapped towards where Y/N was standing and for a moment she thought he saw her. Then he went back to the girl’s neck. The giggling sound from the girl made Y/N’s stomach turn.

The giggles suddenly turn to a strained gasp then a gurgled scream as Lee pulls a bloody chunk of skin from the girl’s throat with his teeth. It happened so fast Y/N wasn’t sure what had happened at first. Then she saw Lee lowering the twitching body of this woman to the ground, the front of his body drenched and dripping with the spurting blood from the gaping wound on her neck. Y/N’s hands went to her mouth as she stifled a scream herself. Lee’s head snapped up. He laid the body down and stood, his eyes sight directly where Y/N was standing.

He inhaled deeply. “Y/N?” She let out a gasp as you backed away slowly, but the leaves crunching beneath her feet gave her away.

She turned and began running through the woods. Lee was quicker than her though. His hands were on her, grabbing her and shoving her against a tree. “Don’t!” She struggled against him. “Please!”

“I’m not gonna hurt you!” Lee shouted as if him being louder would get her to not be scared. The wind blew hard and Lee’s mouth watered.

“Please, Lee!” She cried. She turned and looked up at him, opening her eyes clearly, blinking away the tears. Or trying to at least. His eyes were dark but soft. Like he was scared himself. “Please let me go.” Her voice was almost a whisper.

“You can’t run.” He grits out.

“Please, Lee.”

He leans in close and the smell of her burns his throat. The grip on her arms was so tight she knew he was bruising her. There was a low growl that came from him and it made her tense in fear, her face turned away from him. He looked at the vein pulsing in her neck. His lips brushed against her neck as his grip lessened on her arms.

He leaned in closer, his lips now beneath her ear. “Please don’t run.” He said low. She feels his head lean against hers as if in surrendered. “Please.” He brings his hand up against her cheek. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I swear.” He lifts his head, looking at her. Everywhere he touched he left blood smeared across her skin. He leaned his forehead against hers. “Don’t be scared.” He lifted his head looking her in the eyes. “I won’t-”

“Mommy? Lee?” The sound of Liam’s voice in the distance makes you gasp.

Lee’s head snaps to the side and he sees Liam walking towards the body of the dead woman. Lee looks her in the eyes and with an unspoken understanding Lee walks away.

“Hey, buddy!” Lee speaks, his entire demeanor and voice changes into a softer tone.

“Where’s mommy?” Liam yawns.

“Mommy is okay. She just went for a walk. I got this for us.” Lee kneels next to Liam.

“Really?!” Liam smiles, rubbing his belly.

“Yeah, remember what I told you about eating?” Lee takes Liam’s shirt off and tosses it with his.

“Chew around jewelry and be careful not to choke.”

“That’s right.” He pats the little boy’s shoulder. “You start. I’ll be right back.” Lee stands.

To his surprise she was gone. Shaking his head he walks back over to Liam and takes his spot next to his son and begins eating. Across the field she is standing there with tears running down her blood stained cheeks as she watches her three year old son and his father eat the body of this woman. Everytime the wind blows, Lee’s head pops up, smelling her. He knows Y/N is close but doesn’t know where. He can’t think about that right now. He needs to fill the growing hunger that keeps at him.

When they are done Liam and Lee walk through the woods to the stream. “Mommy!” Liam shouts when he sees her sitting on a rock, washing her hands.

The toddler runs up to her, covered in blood. “Hey, baby!” She sniffles her need to cry. “Oh, look at you! Let’s get you cleaned.”

“I can-”

“I got it.” She tells Lee, grabbing the towel she brought with herself.

With resolve she washed her child clean from the blood and rinsed his clothes clean. She didn’t show fear nor sadness. Not a single tear was shed. Lee watched her as he cleaned himself in the stream. She never even looked at him.

Lee spent the day teaching Liam how to aim and shoot his new slingshot. Sure Y/N had the rule of not shooting animals, so cans and bottles had to do. By that afternoon Liam was worn out. After a dinner of ham sandwiches and chips, Liam fell asleep quickly. Of course Lee had to tuck him in.

When Lee got out of the tent he didn’t see Y/N by the fire like her expected. He walked to the truck and saw the bag sitting on the ground. Kneeling Lee opened it and saw it was fully packed. He turned, his eyes scanning the area. Panic rushed through him when he didn’t see her.

He stood running towards the woods. “Y/N!” He called the deeper he got into the brush. He found her sitting in the spot he killed the woman the night before. He'd long gotten rid of the body. All that was left was bloody leaves and damp blood soaked dirt and sticks. “Y/N?”

When she turned to him he could see the tears running down her cheeks. She stood and turned to him. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was-” He gestured back and turned to her again. “I saw your bag.” He walked closer. He studied her face for a minute before his shoulders fell. “You’re skipping out. Aren’t you?”

She shook her head crying harder. “ I was going to.” She wiped at her face. “But I can’t. I can’t leave him.” Lee wanted nothing more than to hold her and comfort her but knew he couldn’t get any closer. That familiar burning was at the back of his throat. “I’m scared Lee, I don’t know if I can do this.”

He walked closer. “That’s why I never wanted you to see this part of it.” He tells her. “It’s too much for people who don’t have to do it.”

“You killed that poor girl last night, Lee.”

“He wasn;t as innocent as she looked.” He spat. “Knowing I was in a relationship only made her want to fuck me more. She was a slut.”

“It didn’t matter!”

“You can’t look at it like that!” Lee tells her. “You can’t look at them as people! She was a whore who went after taken men. Or wife beaters and abusive assholes! They aren't people. They are a waste of space! The world is better off without!”

“How can you look at it that way?”

“Because I have to in order to survive.” He growled. His body was boiling hot as his heart hammered in his chest.

“Lee,” SHe noticed his eyes were dark and unfocused. He was sweaty and could barely stand. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” He leaned back against a tree. He shut his eyes, taking a breath but all he did was fill himself with her scent. When he reopened his eyes she was closer. “Fuck.” He murmured to himself.

He leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees. She ran to him, kneeling in front of him, placing her hands on his face. “Lee? Lee, look at me.”

“Don’t,” He mumbled, trying to move away from her.

“Lee, what’s happening?” Lee hits his knees as she holds his face in her hands. “COme on.” She tries to help him up.

The feeling was sharp. Like lightning through her skin. Le’s teeth pierced through her flesh as easily as a knife slicing through butter. She screamed, his hand coming down over her mouth. He unclenched his jaw just to move his mouth to a new spot and bite down again. The feeling of his teeth breaking through her soft skin the, taste of her blood on his tongue made the feeling in him subside instantly. The burning in the back of his throat was finally quenched.

When his teeth sank in for the third time the ringing in his ears finally calmed and that was when he heard the muffled screaming from beneath him.

Lee released her, her body falling to the ground. She scurried away holding pressure against her shoulder, crying from the pain.

“Oh God!” Lee stood, standing over her with terror in his eyes. “No, no, no-” He moved towards her and she backed away frantically.

Lee froze, looking down at her. She was terrified of him. The one thing he never wanted to do, he did. She was shaking, covered in blood on the ground in the woods, crying hysterically. Lee did the only thing he could think to do.

He ran.

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #chalamet #timothée #timothee #luca guadagnino #bones & all #bones and all #AU #fan fic #fanfic #fan fiction #reader insert #like me #part eleven

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sabraeal · 7 months

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The Vagrant's Season, Part 2

[Read on AO3]

Written for @onedivinemisfit for her birthday! This is part of Annie's Shapeshifter AU; a prequel to this piece, filling in the weeks from when Obi arrived in The Valley to the start of mating season. There are a half dozen version of the song I adapt for Shirayuki in this, but I referred to two specific ones to cobble together this one: Marianne Lihannah's and Pernille Anker's. There is also one line from this folk song in the last scene!

“You’re a shy little one, aren’t you?” The vixen doesn’t stoop or sing-song, not like how the menfolk would when they saw him like this, just a shadow and a snout hidden amongst their shrubbery. A good thing too; if she shrilled the way the goodwives would, calling him a sweet pup and lille vennen and gutten min, he’d have skittered away faster than mice in a pantry.

Instead her voice is soft, riding the same rise and lull as her song, and her hands never pause in their picking. A practiced motion— reach, pinch, twist; reach, pinch, twist— that never falters, even when she slants him her curious glance. “I mean you no harm. There’s more than enough for the both of us here, if we only take for the needing.”

Ah, now that stings him, just a little. He’d seen her sorting out her tubers and berries that first time, plucking the bounty he’d meant to have all to himself until spring, and well— he’d scampered off, sure, half-scared of even a wilder’s shadow, but he’d come back too. Gave himself two good hands to pillage with and glutted himself on what she’d left behind, sure he’d find some other hole to weather out the last of winter.

Even with no stars yet in the sky he knew the footfalls that would take him toward Yuris, toward Tanbar, toward any place but that little glade and the vixen whose scent lingered on every leaf. And yet honey and bitter greens never quite left his nose, turning his paws in circles, spiraling him back to this very clearing, over and over. Spirit-blind he may be, but let it never be said Obi couldn't take a hint from one, when it was given.

“It’s warmer here in the sun.” Her tone is conversational rather than cajoling, and Obi’s tempted to take the invitation. Spread out his shorter legs, cramped from where he’s been camped in the bushes, waiting for her to finish her picking and sorting. Maybe even see if she might feed him from her hands, the way the young girls did at the village outskirts, too young to know the difference between a fox and a pup. “I know fur so fine as yours must keep you warm even in the snows, but it’s quite nice to have the light on you.”

She breathes in, misting the air with her exhale. “You can almost believe it’s spring.”

It will come soon enough; he smells it on the air even now, the promise of plenty enough to make his belly tremble. A few more weeks and he could eat his fill, strengthen up for whatever journey still laid ahead. Nice as it might be to survive on the outskirts of the Valley, growing fat on their game and forage, that sour scent in the north will mosey its way down here sometime this summer. Unpleasant as that dog smells, he’ll be needing to deal with the Keeper, trade with the other wilder in his pack. Maybe even mate, if he could find a vixen to stand him.

This vixen sits back on her heels, sigh as sweet as her scent wafting up from her lips. “Well, that’s that then. Guess we won’t meet today, little one.”

Toes curl beneath her, and with the sort of limber grace village girls lacked but wilder women possessed in spades, she bounces up to her feet, basket teetering on her hip like a smile does on her lips. “Maybe next time, then. Be a pity for neighbors not to get along with each other.”

When he steps out of the brush, it’s on two legs, one hand scratching at the nape of his neck.

“Get along,” he mutters, shoving a berry into his mouth. It breaks sour over his tongue. “See how long that lasts.”

There’s no convenient cave to make his camp, no abandoned lean-to left by a less wary vagrant passing through to warmer climes, but Obi does find a hollow not far from the vixen’s glade. An old yew, wider than two of him together could wrap around, beginning to rot from the inside. The sort of thing the volva would have clucked their collective tongues over, proclaiming that its spirit was sick and frail, a terrible portents for the future of their community.

But for him it’s only a tight squeeze on two legs and a cozy hideaway on four. Keeps him dry at least, and warm when the winds blow, though even as he drifts asleep, he hears the wood creaking like their voices, stay too long as a little one and you’ll be wild in truth.

It becomes habit to watch the vixen about her business; mostly small, letting his dark fur hide him among the shadows even as she tries to call him out from cover, her sweet smile more tempting than even the berries she offers. As it warms he sheds that skin more often, letting his legs stretch until he smells herbs on the wind and hears the first strains of her honeyed songs.

It’s inevitable that at some point, he forgets.

The dawn breaks warm that morning; the first tease of true spring before the spirits unfurl their sleeping tendrils and wake in truth. At least, so the volva say; Obi’s never seen a lick of them as long as he’s lived. Blind, they called him, but if it’s the price he pays to walk comfortably among the townsfolk each winter, he’ll pay it gladly.

There’s a tree at the edge of the vixen’s glade, an old birch so piebald it’s half shadow itself, its spiny little leaves coming in strong with the first hint of winter’s breaking. They don’t grow like this near the menfolk— there it’s straight little stands of bone-white trunks, but here, it’s a gnarled, knotted mess of a grandmother, so thick and bent from reaching out toward the light the glade promises that a body could get lost trying to find their way through its branches.

He sprawls his across one so thick it could be its own tree, legs dangling as wild as tangled ivy. Dappled in the sun’s light, it’s a cozy enough spot to let his blood warm up to the promise of the day. His head tips back, eyes fluttering closed, and ah, if he lets his mind drift enough, he can fool himself into thinking the volva are shuffling after him still, looking for that lazy boy, more scent than sense—

“The kit is placed in her cradle, sometimes crying, sometimes laughing.” Breath tumbles out of him in a snort, rousing him in shorter order than the vixen’s song, so close each word comes as a caress instead of a whisper on the wind. “Her mother cares for her, trouble, trouble, trouble.”

Already he reaches for his smaller body, eager to put fur over flesh and scamper into cover, but—

“Sleep now, sleep now” —copper flickers over bush tops, like a bullfinch buzzing over the brush— “in the arms of the mother tree, keep watch, o spirits, and hold this kit safe.”

For as many times as he has seen her, it’s always been with a little one’s eyes, limited to the muted grays and dunny browns they can create. Enough to get the idea of most wilders on whom he’s let his gaze linger, but this vixen— her hair alone is red and gold together, an autumn forest ablaze and yet tame beneath her hands. And when she lets her eyes skim over the brushline, looking for him…

Green. The same as the leaves that flutter between them, hiding him from sight. He hunkers down, belly to branch, and bides his time.

The vixen lingers longer as the weather warms, shedding her heavy cloak before she settles in to work, spreading it beneath her knees. There’s more for her to do now; with the snow near half melted, more greens unfurl between her visits, and the thin stopgap of winter berries turning into a bounty of sweet spring fruit. She sorts them as she works, each kind going into their own cloth before she rolls them up and tucks them into her basket, humming with satisfaction.

Most days he keeps her company as a little one; it delights her to coax him out step by step, creeping closer and closer to sharing sunlight. But more and more often, he lingers, watching her with wilder eyes as she goes about her business. Wonders, sometimes, if her pelt is just as bright as her hair when she trots about in her smaller form, if the gold would shine the way it does in the morning sun.

When she settles herself today— I shall give to my sister my seven gold rings, all under the linden so green— it’s with two baskets, one set in front and the other just behind. No difference between them that Obi can see, no reason one berry goes in one and not the either, just one plump little fruit, one after the other. Each one leaves juice smeared across her fingertips, so ripe his mouth salivates just thinking of how they’ll taste on his tongue, of how they’ll burst beneath his teeth.

“You know,” she calls out, her mouth hooked in the wryest of her smiles. “It’s polite to announce yourself if you’re going to linger in a vixen's territory. Especially a dog like yourself.”

Obi blinks between his branches, glancing from left to right, but there’s no dog for her to be talking to, not unless—

He glances down, right to where she stands, staring square at him through the branches. “You might introduce yourself at least. Now that I know you haven’t gone wild.”

His arms fold and his chin tilts, the way that makes most dogs shy from his company, let alone the wiser vixens. “I’m not the sort a vixen like you would want to know.”

Her jaw sets, even as that smiles pulls sweeter. “I think that’s up to me, isn’t it?”

Obi has to admit, she has a point there.

“This is my territory you’ve been lingering in, after all.” Her shrug is a soft bounce of her shoulders, but her scent presses heavily around him. Her territory. Unmated female she may be, but he is an unmated male, living on her sufferance. “I should know who I have the pleasure of sharing my patch with.”

“No point,” he sniffs, tilting his chin higher. “I’m just passing through.”

“For three weeks?” Her mouth twitches, not from fear. “I think that’s a little more than passing through.”

Ah, he hadn’t realized she’d be counting. “Just until there’s forage elsewhere.”

By the cock of her hip, he knows his excuse is as thin as tissue, ready to be torn under her able paws. “A name might be nice. I can’t just call you vagrant this whole time.”

“I have lots of names.” One for each year he’s wintered over among the menfolk. But they’ve always slipped off him like his fur does his skin, never sticking the whole season. Eirik had been the one he gave Goody, a smile on his lips, but she shook her head the way the menfolk always do, as if they already knew it doesn’t fit. “Which one do you want?”

The smile he gives her is all teeth, but she doesn’t flinch like she’s supposed to. No, she just furrows that brow at him, concerned. “The one you want to give me.”

His shoulder burns even beneath his hand. “I already said I wouldn’t be around long.”

“Fine, Vagrant it is then,” the vixen sighs, tucking her plants against her waist, tying them to the space under her belt. “I hope you have a nice day, Vagrant.”

It’s not until she’s gone that he realizes she left one of her baskets behind, but when he goes to call out—

Well, it seems he never got a name either.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #shapeshifter au #the vagrant's season #my fic #ans #the two songs referenced in this are Gjendine's Lullaby (Gjendines bådnlåt) and Ye Ride So Carefully (I Riden Så)#Gjendines is a famous Norwegian milkmaid who ended up teaching her songs to Edvard Grieg #who eventually collected them into Opus 66. the last movement of which is this lullaby #if you play civ 6 you might recognize it 🤣#Ye Ride So Carefully is an older folk song- the one i link is not in modern Swedish but a much older version #i had to steer a lot of my folk song usage MUCH older since otherwise i ran into lots of like #singing about the village. and the sheep. and the barn! lots of fish too #which just wasn't gonna work for the little forest-bound foxes #if you decide to listen to the whole thing it's actually considered a song that may have predated Christianity in Scandinavia #and then was later changed to include Christian symbolism along with the old norse ones #there is a LOT that i could go into here about the meaning of the song BUT it doesn't actually have much to do with the story #SO JUST ENJOY INSTEAD 🤣

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child-of-demeter · 20 days

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𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝟓 - 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐑 𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃

[ OLIVER GREENWOOD —— LEVEL 5 PATH ] much has happened since answering the song within his blood. there has been pain and suffering, but also happiness and laughter. it's a strange mix. his new life began from the deaths of an old one, drenched in the blood of those that would harm him and now, filled with the blood of the gods. he finds himself sleeping, perhaps after a quest, when he begins to feel it. at first, it's a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, like batting wings—butterflies or bats—but it grows and grows. he can feel a sort of strength building within him, cresting like a wave, growing like a tree. it feels good, almost addictive, a rush of adrenaline that still lulls him to sleep. and that's when he hears it. the song, like before, singing beneath the surface of his skin, the lullaby and siren song of the divinity within his blood. it stretches out, encompassing everything that makes oliver greenwood who he is and offers him everything that he could become. the song builds, a beautiful crescendo that fills him up entirely. he can't open his eyes, though, as those feelings build. he's still fast asleep... but then his eyes blink open. he's not where he was resting his head, he knows that for sure. the place looks...different than the backdrop of the camp, the walls of the demeter or athena cabin. WHEN OLIVER OPENS HIS EYES, WHAT DOES HE SEE? WHERE IS HE? PLEASE DESCRIBE IT.

Sleep has not been easy for Oliver the last few nights... Hell, who is he kidding, it's been hell for the last few weeks. Since first drinking the ambrosia he has been plagued by nightmares. Night after night filled with vibrant visions. Visions of fire and brimstone, of blood and screams, of the horrors of that night. That night that was supposed to be wonderful and beautiful, a night for celebration and love. Yet that night had brought about nothing but pain and agony. Tonight is not any different, tonight the scene plays again. ' I do. ' Two little words. A vow. A commitment. A promise. Yet that promise had been broken. There was no love, only sacrifice. Death had come far too soon for the happy couple, brought about by the grooms own hands. Blood, so much blood. It covers those hands, soaks Oliver's clothes, drips along the path that he walks. He could drown in the blood that he's spilt. He wants it to stop, wants it all to stop. But it doesn't. It can't. It won't. ~ PAIN ~ A stabbing sensation runs through his gut, hazel eyes staring at him with wonder. A laughter rings through his ears as music grows louder and louder. That lullaby. That damn lullaby. The song of divinity calls, it burns through him and in a searing burst he wakes from his sleep. A gasp of air escapes his lungs, hands reaching out to grip at the blankets as reality comes crashing back into him. Slowly his eyes begin to flutter open, blinking the sleep away as he peers around himself. Where there should be the decaying rotting plants of the Demeter cabin instead he is met with beautiful ornate furniture. The sheets around him the softest of linens. And there across the room is a large dresser. It's doors ajar, revealing a pure white toga... This is the De la Cour Mansion...

ornate furniture is spread out in the exact same formation that he remembers. the same chairs and sofas, the same tables and lights. across from him, the dresser stands large and imposing, a sliver of white fabric, one he recognizes with ease, awaiting him. he seems to be the only one within the room. no sound seems to come from anywhere else. it's just him in this visceral place, a happy memory turned sour, a beautiful flower now wilting. what does oliver do?

Rubbing his eyes he tries to refocus on the world. But each time he does his surroundings don't change. There's silence, not one of comfort but one that causes the hairs on the back of his neck to stand. This isn't right. This isn't where he should be.

' I just wanna wake up... I just wanna wake up... Someone... '

Stepping out of bed his bare feet press into the cold hard wood floor. Slowly making his way towards the dresser he opens it. As if resigned to his fate he slowly gets dressed. This dream never ends, instead it just repeats. White linen sheets pulled into form as he securely fastens his toga. Then next he takes the flower crown from the dresser and places it atop his head. Eyes drifting to the mirror he takes a slow breathe, shuddering as his vision blurs and for a moment he sees himself bloodied and bruised before he's back to the vision of a perfect groom.

it's almost like a fever dream. the reflection of himself changes and then resolves into itself once more. but...when he puts the toga on, it's not the same one as before. this time, it resembles more of the one he wore the night of the welcoming party that all the new godlings attended. no blood is seen on him, he doesn't feel the phantom splatters of it against his skin. as he stares at his reflection, though, he begins to see something in the mirror. not himself, but something behind him. it looks blurry, as if he can't quite focus on it. but the more he looks, the more it begins to take shape, take form. what does he see in the reflection? is it a creature or a person? describe what the image looks like.

Strange... How very strange... Hands lingering on the soft nearly sheer fabric. The soft green tones with gold adornments. It brings a smile to his lips as he feels a sense of grounding. Staring in the mirror a shape takes form at the edge of his vision. He wants to look behind him, to see what is there, but something deep down tells him not to. It tells him to hold onto its gaze here in this moment less it disappear forever. It shifts and it blurs, slowly coming into vision. It's a person, a woman... Deep auburn hair... Beautiful green eyes... Skin as pale as porcelain... He sees Persephone... " Sister "

seemingly out of nowhere, persephone stands behind the son of demeter. a kindred spirit, gone too soon, lost while cradled within his arms. she reaches out, a delicate hand resting on his shoulder as she looks at his face in the reflection of the mirror. she opens her mouth and begins to speak. at first, the words seem muffled, like they're stuck behind a layer of dirt or a wooden coffin, but once he concentrates, he hears it—like the song in his blood singing to him once more. "i've been expecting you, oliver." the figure says. "and you've finally arrived at the precipice of power." what does the voice sound like? is it the same as the one he heard before? how does he feel hearing this voice?

Oliver strains to hear, trying to focus on his sisters voice. As the words begin to clear she sounds exactly the same as she had in the coffin. Weak... Broken... Hearing her voice it breaks him. He wants to cry, to reach out and hold her. But that feeling as though the vision will shatter holds firm, he does not risk it. He can't. Not if it means just a few more moments to see her. " Sister... W-what happened to you? I'm s-so sorry, I wasn't strong enough... I'm never strong enough... " He chokes back a shuddering sob as he tries to calm himself down. " Where are you, please... Please Persephone how do I help you? "

persephone looks at him, at his breaking reflection. she stares unblinking. the hand on his shoulder tightens, as if attempting to lend him strength. "i'm right here, oliver." she says, her weak voice singing through his veins. "we're here together. don't think you're weak. things happen for a reason. do you understand that?" she waits to see if he gives her an answer, never moving closer, never moving away, just simply standing there in his presence.

Reaching up he rests his own hand atop hers. Squeezing her hand tightly as he nods slowly. " I think so... but Persephone, w-where is... here? " His question hangs in the air. It is all too clear to the child of Demeter that this is not real. Whether dream or vision, this space should not exist. It should not be possible. And yet it is...

a soft smile creeps across persephone's features. her auburn hair falls in front of her face and sharp, green eyes pierce into oliver's. slowly, she turns him around to face her. "this place can be anything you wish it to be. it is yours. it is inside you. if this place brings you pain, you have the power to change that. do you understand?" she looks into his eyes, almost willing him to test if it may be true.

As his sister turns him he closes his eyes tight, afraid that when he fully sees her she'll be gone. But as he finally takes a peak she's still there. A sigh escapes him as he takes in her features once more. She's exactly like he remembers upon finding her. It hurts his heart, it hurts to know that he let her go so easily. He should have done more, offered more, he should have tried harder. As her words plant firmly in his mind he can't help but think how nice it would be if he could be at peace. If the pain could just go away, so that he might find solace instead. But deep down a darker thought lingers. One that has been festering for weeks now... One that he will finally speak aloud. " what if... what if I deserve the pain? "

his words linger between them. a seed planted in the ground, not yet watered. for a moment, persephone does not respond. for a moment, oliver may think that his words have caused a silent death to overtake her once more. "and if you do, what will you do with that pain, oliver? will you turn it into power or will you let it wither you away like the gardens in your care? is that pain is yours, what will become of it, of you?" her words aren't harsh. in fact, they're quite the opposite. no true emotion seems to linger on the words, just a simple question, awaiting an answer from the son of the demeter.

The question lingers and it's as though time has stopped. If given pain what would he do? Would he let it wither him away. Would he himself become like his gardens, weak, void of life, a husk of his former self. Or would he use it to become strong. Would he let it help him grow in strength as his roots take hold. Oliver had never liked pain. In fact once upon a time he would have passed out at the mere sight of blood. But in the darkest time of his life it had been pain that pushed him through. It was pain that ensured his survival. Like a pyrophytic plant sometimes the old needed to be scorched with fire in order to grow anew. " I would make it my own... I would wield it so that others would never have to feel it for themselves. " In his mind a vision of those closest to him comes forward. Of Atticus and Remy, of Alejandro, Romeo, and all the other demigods... Then finally to Persephone...

persephone holds up a hand and, above her lithe fingers, floating in her palm, is a dancing orb of magic. it's colorless, but writhes in the light. "then take it and let us see what you do." she presses her hand against his chest, injecting pain into him unlike anything he's ever felt! everything goes dark, fades away, as a searing pain overtakes oliver's body! [ PLEASE MAKE A CON SAVE ]

[ CON SAVE: 1d20 (19) + 8 Total: 27 ]

[ PLEASE WRITE WHAT HE EXPERIENCES DURING THIS PAIN AND WHAT HE DOES TO OVERCOME IT! ]

Pain. Excruciating pain sears through his body. It's unlike anything he's ever felt. Far beyond that of what he felt the night of his wedding. Even greater than what he went through when drinking the ambrosia. This pain is akin to his very blood boiling within him. His voice wants to cry out in pain, but he keeps it within himself.

To get through the pain he tries to think of his friends... Of his family... Of those he loves.

He thinks of Romeo, feelings new and not yet explored. A seedling that has yet to come to harvest. However through Romeo he has seen power. Seen an explosive need to protect, and in that need he finds a kindred spirit. Perhaps someone who could walk this path with him.

He thinks of Alejandro, unbridled rage, unfiltered emotions. His truth is his strength. The man has shown Oliver that feelings are meant to be shared, that they are meant to be experienced. Both good and bad... Oliver let's the pain filtered through him freely, he does not hold it back, he welcomes it.

He thinks of Atticus, his wisdom, his patience, of looking to the future. Atticus, sweet and loving, tender in his moments of need. He sees the man in his mind's eye, and focuses. Oliver breathes through the pain. Taking in the moment and accepting it for what it is, and looking to the future at what this might bring.

And finally he thinks of Remy... His vision of Victory. Glorious golden wings beating high in the sky before bringing down radiant light. The man who has taught him to be confident in his footing, to not falter when the path is dangerous... With a finality he reaches out and grips the pain, victory WILL be his this day!

Taking this pain and burying it deep within his soul. Beneath the soil he plants it.

This pain will grow.

It will thrive, and bear fruit.

It will be the start of his new beginning.

persephone does nothing but stand there as the pain rattles through the son of demeter. she watches it bend and break him, twist him as if to snap his spine. she can almost feel the way it hurts, like a ghost pain that swallows her whole. but she also watches as oliver embraces the pain, plants it somewhere deep within him, and knows, somewhere deep within him, that pain will not break him. when oliver opens his eyes, he watches as that glowing magic, that seedling of pain, imbeds itself somewhere in his chest, beating alongside his heart. he almost expects it to hurt but...oddly enough, he doesn't feel anything. he's not numb to the things he's buried down, somehow, there's a peace within this. "sometimes, you must cull the garden in order to allow new growth to begin. you've done that today. the pain of your past will always be with you, but you have the power to no longer allow it to destroy you." persephone says this, her voice calm, what was once broken now blooming. "when new pain surfaces, do not let it poison your garden, plant it, water it, and the power within you will turn it into something beautiful." slowly, she reaches up and places her hand on oliver's cheek, turning his face toward hers. "you have done well today, oliver greenwood, son of demeter. your mother would be proud."

Head tilting up his vision fading in and out. The pain had been excruciating. Even now it still thrums deep inside of him. Except now it feels like it's a part of him. No longer something foreign, but a foundation for him to grow from. He will make this pain his in every sense of the word. Listening to his sister he nods, eyes watering as he leans into her touch. Deep down he fears... Or perhaps knows that this is not really his sister. That Persephone is gone, and this is just a fragment of his mind. But he will take this moment, to bask in her light, her warmth. " Thank you Sister... I will try my hardest, I swear it. " Closing his eyes his head resting against her hand as the pain slows to a gentle thrum, echoing softly along the lullaby within his blood.

"we will see each other again, oliver. when you're ready." her voice is crystalline, clear. a promise that plants itself alongside his pain, a constant companion. when he opens his eyes again, she is not there. neither is the what he once say. no, instead, he opens his eyes and is back where he was sleeping. he's drenched in sweat, the blankets tossed aside. and the first thing he notices when he wakes up is the once wilted gardens around the demeter cabin beginning to flourish once more, as if renewed and reinvigorated. he feels stronger, faster, more in touch with himself and the divine song that courses through his veins. oliver greenwood may have once been riddled with pain, it may have caused him to isolate and destroy anything that came too close, but now he has planted its seed and cause it to grow into whatever he sees fit. the son of demeter has taken the first steps into a fuller acceptance of who he is and who he will become. only time will tell what's in store for this godling, but this? this was a step in a right direction. [ PATH COMPLETE ! ]

#✧⋄⋆⋅𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 [ self para ]#✧⋄⋆⋅𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 [ labors ]#✧⋄⋆⋅𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 [ paths ]#✧⋄⋆⋅𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 [ path of the grief bearer ]

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danalockhart411 · 2 months

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The Year of the Flood - 1993

I am in the flood, and the flood is in me.

In the year of 1993, the mighty Mississippi River flooded its banks and spread out over 30,000 square miles. It was one of the greatest deluges in its history, second only to the great flood of 1927. By October of 1993, the flood waters finally started to recede—and that was the month and year that I was born.

My mother and father were fishing on the Mississippi River near Louisiana, Missouri during the height of the Flood of ‘93. Of course, this means that my mother was pregnant with me at that time. Before I was even born, I was being gently rocked by flood waters while my parents fished off their old John boat. They camped along the flooded banks in a cramped camper for a week during that summer. Perhaps, then, it is no wonder that I am drawn to the high, muddy water and the sound of the rain. The flood is in my blood.

The river is in my father, and in those that came before him.

The river is in my father's blood, too. He was taken to the Mississippi River at a young age and fell in love with the water and wildlife, and in turn he instilled that in me. Many a summer day was spent boating on the Mississippi, until one day Dad decided that he was tired of the 45-minute drive to get there. He started searching for a small house— “a river shack,” he said—to purchase so we could spend multiple days out on the river without having to camp. Instead, he found a 2600 square foot ranch-style home at an unbeatable price with an incredible view; the closest house to the river in that neighborhood. The nearest boat ramp is a two-minute drive away. A conservation beach along the water stretches almost a half a mile, containing 11 acres, just behind the home. The location was perfect. That home became our River House. I was 12 years' old at the time.

We owned that house during the 2008 flood, which nearly rivaled the Flood of '93. The river came up into our yard, about four feet away from our back porch, and twelve feet away from the house itself. You couldn't get much closer to the river than that. We were able to fish right out of our back yard. Where we lived, the 2008 flood lasted for weeks. At one point, we were worried enough to sandbag around the porch to prevent any damage to it (but it didn't get that far). In 2019, another flood rose just slightly higher than the 2008 flood, but it only lasted a few days.

When I started college, I moved into the River House full time and have been living there ever since. Every day my eyes lay upon the flowing water. It is changing all of the time. For a moment it can be smooth like glass, and the next it is dark and turbulent. There are several places where the current regularly runs backwards along eddies and islands. Floods are common. They don't get all the way up to the yard very often, but over the past decade there hasn't been a year where the river stayed inside it's normal banks all summer. High water records seem meant to be broken. The deluges have become normal now.

A story old as time--great destruction, and great inspiration

Most cultures around the world tell a story of a giant flood that threatened the whole world – The Deluge itself that the Bible's Noah's Ark was built to escape. Even the oldest recorded written story that we have discovered, The Epic of Gilgamesh, has such a tale within it. A flood can damage the land, homes, and people when its banks run over. According to the Britannica, the 1927 Mississippi River flood killed approximately 250 people and further displaced 750,000. However, it also inspired songs, like "The Levee Breaks" by Joe McCoy and Memphis Minnie (later covered by Led Zeppelin), as well as "Louisiana 1927" by Randy Newman. The rolling waters are both dangerous and inspiring, capable of both tremendous strength and calm beauty.

They also served as the inspiration for In the Deluge. Like the mighty Mississippi, sometimes emotions can overwhelm us, drown us, and overflow out of us. Sometimes our levees break that we built up to contain them. Our emotions can whisk us away like a river, drag us down like sea serpent, and spin us around like a whirlpool. However, there also is calm, peace, and growth to be gotten from the rain. Life flourishes where there is water. We cannot live without it.

When I first conceived the theme of this poetry collection, I called it "Drowning in the Deluge". Alliteration is my jam, and I'm fascinated by the archaic word "deluge". However, as time passed, I realized: just because you're in the midst of a flood, doesn't mean you have to be drowning. I simply changed the title to "In the Deluge". It's a subtle shift, but an important one. Whether we ended up here by choice or by force, we are here, in the flood. We might even be underwater, but we are not drowning. It is a lot of water, but we are weathering it. Maybe there are days where it feels like drowning, but maybe other days we're trying to dive deeper. Some days we are floating adrift. Sometimes we're at the bottom where it's so dark we can't see, and sometimes we're so close to the surface we can breach it. We are always in it, and maybe it's even in us.

Come hell or high water, we will weather it.

-Dana Lockhart

#flood #deluge #poetry #my writing #1993 #sliceoflife #blogger #mississippi river #in the deluge #behind the scenes #summer of 1993 #weather the storm #let it rain #flood waters

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jockmewalking · 10 months

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Here it finally is! The Camp Tv Reloaded biographies. I might alter Cam’s a lil bit or maybe not...

Brick McArthur

(The Crass Cadet)

What’s your best quality?

MY LEADERSHIP SKILLS!! HERE AT BOOT CAMP, EVERYONE LISTENS TO WHAT I SAY!!! …EVERYONE THAT HAS ANY SENSE OF SELF-PRESERVATION THAT IS!

Faves? (Music, Colour, Movie, Food)

DON’T LISTEN TO JUNK ON THE RADIO! BUT HARD ROCK AND METAL ISN’T SO BAD!

BLOOD RED! WHICH IS THE LAST THING MY ENEMIES WILL SEE BEFORE THEY GET CRUSHED TO DUST!!!

ANY WAR MOVIE COUNTS DOESN’T IT?! IT’S HARD TO CHOOSE MY FAVORITE, BUT I GUESS SINCE MY MOM LIKES IT, THE SURGE OF HASSAN!!!

ANYTHING THAT CAN FUEL ME FOR A DAY IS WORTH IT!!! …BUT I SUPPOSE MY MOTHER’S RENDANG IS GOOD FLAVOR-WISE!

Describe your craziest dream.

I WAS PICKED ON FOR NO REASON BY MY LOYAL SUBORDINATES! THAT’S UNFAIR!!! I SHOULD NEVER FACE DISRESPECT FROM ANYONE EVER AGAIN! WHICH IS FUNNY I SAID THAT!! SINCE NO ONE HAS LIVED TO TELL THE TALE WHEN THEY DO!!!

Best memory from childhood?

…JOINING THE COOKING CLUB IN 4TH GRADE! OBVIOUSLY!!! I HAVE NO CLUE WHY PEOPLE ARE ALWAYS SHOCKED BY THAT!

Most embarrassing moment at school?

UGH!!! THERE’S THIS ANNOYING BOY NAMED ARTHUR NOTHINGCHICK AT BOOTCAMP! HE KEEPS…TAUNTING ME AND PUTTING DOWN MY AMAZING ACCOMPLISHMENTS!!! AND SOME FREAKIN’ KID HAD THE AUDACITY TO SPREAD A RUMOR ABOUT US DATING JUST BECAUSE OF A WEIRD DREAM SHE HAD!!! WHAT NONSENSE!

Describe the first job you ever had.

I WAS…AWAY FROM BOOT CAMP FOR A WHILE AND I HAD TO DO SOME ‘COMMUNITY SERVICE CRAP’ FOR MY ‘BRASH’ AND ‘IMPROPER’ BEHAVIOR!! I HAD TO TAKE CARE OF RANDOM PEOPLE’S DOGS FOR WEEKS INSTEAD OF KICKING BUTT AT THE ACADEMY!!! …THE DOGS WEREN’T SO BAD…

Ten years from now, what are you doing?

BEING A HIGH-RANKING MILITARY ‘SARGE TO HONOR MY MOTHER’S GLORY!!!

My dream date would be with ___________, doing what?

SOMEONE WHO CAN ACTUALLY HANDLE MY INTENSITY, SO SOMEONE JUST AS INTENSE AS ME OR SOMEONE MORE…CALM, I SUPPOSE!! NO MATTER WHAT THEIR PERSONALITY IS, IM GOING TO COOK THEM A DELICIOUS MEAL AND BRAG TO THEM ABOUT ALL MY ACHIEVEMENTS AND AWARDS FROM BOOT CAMP!

It’s the last day on earth. In one sentence, what would you do?

LAST DAY ON EARTH?! HAH! MAYBE FOR EVERYONE ELSE! I’M GONNA LIVE OUT THE REST OF MY DAYS DOING DRILLS AND DANCING ON TOP OF THAT NOTHINGCHICK FELLOW’S GRAVE!

Maribelle ‘Mary’ Flemming

(The Sports Fanatic)

What’s your best quality?

I know a crapton about sports—popular celebrities, common misconceptions, random trivia, strategy-stuff—you name it! Thing is, I’m not exactly an athletic gal, but I guess my bro says that makes my obsession way cooler AND unorthodox!

Faves? (Music, Colour, Movie, Food)

Indie or prog-rock is OBVIOUSLY the best! My favorite song right now is Summer and a Typhoon by Trolly Hell

Any type of purple’s really awesome…

All kinds of action flicks! …It’s nice putting yourself in the shoes of a cool character.

A bag of chips would do me good… Ironic, junk food’s not good for my body, but I guess that saying “You are what you eat” really rings true, huh?

Describe your craziest dream.

Heh, this one’s a real doozy! I was ranked as the no. 1 athlete in my school! 6 years in a row!!! God, I always admired people who have the motivation to work on their physique…

Best memory from childhood?

When I got picked first during team-picking in volleyball! My ‘ol leader’s heard a LOT about my knowledge surrounding a variety of sports, so he’d thought I’d be a great first choice.

Most embarrassing moment at school?

…Turns out the same guy was hoping I’d be some ultra-mega-jock! My bad for wearing sportswear that day—easily fooled him with my fashion style! My team didn’t score a single point in that game and they all blamed me for the loss…

Describe the first job you ever had.

Never had one come to think of it! Most jobs in my town are only open in the daytime, not the best for my…personal schedule you know?

Ten years from now, what are you doing?

…Wasting away in my bedroom… As I always do.

My dream date would be with ___________, doing what?

A total loser who thinks they’re really cool but actually isn’t! I mean—my older bro Jon says I’m the awesomest gal who think’s he’s the lamest, so I guess a person like that would be my match! …Still stuck on what my total opposite and I would do on a first date….

It’s the last day on earth. In one sentence, what would you do?

I’d probably be fiddling around with the tv remote to watch my favorite sport shows one last time, or I’d be asleep. Whichever works best!

Staci

(The Gossipmonger)

What’s your best quality?

A lot of RUDE people consider this a ‘flaw’, but I would say it’s my ability to spin any story around and have people believe anything I say!

Faves? (Music, Colour, Movie, Food)

Pop music from the radio, I really like Glad Donna’s songs!

PINK!!! All shades of pink are the best!

Rude Gals is my jam! I don’t really know why, but Reggie and Janelle’s story really speaks to me…hmm…

An assorted box of chocolates! Especially if it includes fruit-flavored ones AND the box looks super cute!

Describe your craziest dream.

I got into my first…relationship!! Though I sadly didn’t remember what the person looked like… It was totally awesome and fun at first, but then she started arguing with me about something… Before I could respond, the dream abruptly ended.

Best memory from childhood?

Way back in kinder, I told a girl from my class that the boy she was ‘play-dating’ thinks she’s a ‘doo-doo face’ and prefers playing with a girl named Emily! It was hilarious seeing her bawl her eyes out while ‘breaking up’ with this confused boy. …Poor kid, but whatever! It was his problem to deal with months of bullying from the other kids! Haha!

Most embarrassing moment at school?

Someone spread a rumor about me wearing a wig everyday to school! Complete truth—I’ll give them that—but I had students try ripping out my hair and messing up the cute space buns I spent soooo much time perfecting!

Describe the first job you ever had.

Right now, I’m working at a hair salon! Hairstyling is one of my specialties, though certain people say my ‘chatterbox tendencies’ only leads to my clients complaining about me and giving the already unpopular business a bad reputation or whatever bull…

Ten years from now, what are you doing?

Opening up my OWN successful hair salon, while my current one shuts down from bankruptcy!

My dream date would be with ___________, doing what?

Anyone—as long as it isn’t a guy, bleghh!—with an awesome sense of fashion! AND TAKING CARE OF THEIR HAIR IS A BIG THING!!! The more extravagant the hairstyle, the better. I could talk endlessly about all my annoying co-workers and maybe they could talk about TONS of things after or just listen.

It’s the last day on earth. In one sentence, what would you do?

Ugh, normally I don’t like graffiti, but I might as well vandalize my salon with all the embarrassing secrets I’ve gathered about each and every employee! That will show ‘em to NOT insult me whenever I’m around.

Mike

(The Comedian)

What’s your best quality?

Lighting up a room with my sense of humor! The way people show their appreciation is quite peculiar though…! Instead of a bouquet of flowers, I once got a bouquet of tomatoes thrown straight to my face!

Faves? (Music, Colour, Movie, Food)

I like upbeat jazz!

Yellow, the color of radiancy and happiness!

EarthDog Day was a blast to watch! …I’m not sure if I should be rooting for the main guy and the girl to get together or not..!

Smoked ham! It was something my old, cranky caretaker made a lot back in my childhood! Welp, at least a piece of him is still with us ;)!

Describe your craziest dream.

…I was in a dark, dark room. And all I could see was face of someone who-shall-not-be-named. I don’t want to let out TOO much detail, but they were saying a lot of really hurtful stuff. …I wish things were better between us, but it’s better not having them around for my sake and for many others.

Best memory from childhood?

About that! I have severe memory problems… Many things about my past is a blur, though I remember fragments of events I do NOT want to dwell on. One positive—aside my former caretaker—is this funny Russian TV show I watched about an awesome stuntwoman who loved making people laugh, just like me! I guess that lady really help me through a lot now, didn’t she ;)!

Most embarrassing moment at school?

We were supposed to do a puppetshow and I was prepping all week! But, then…! Just before I presented, I suddenly felt all woozy and like the world was spinning round and round uncontrollably…! Next thing I remember, my teacher was scolding me for having such an unorganized show! There was a lots of…ermm….not-safe-for-school humor… and that it kept switching from an Oilers-inspired love story to an Indie Jonas retelling! I think I have a strong idea on who caused that mess!

Describe the first job you ever had.

I was a waitress for a homey, diner restaurant! Sadly, I got kicked out…! See, me and the crew were singing Happy Birthday to a customer, but then the young birthday celebrant started weeping because of my ‘horrible’ singing!

Ten years from now, what are you doing?

Isn’t it obvious?! A world-renowned comedian! …And I would definitely share the spotlight with 4 other people who helped me through a lot!

My dream date would be with ___________, doing what?

Lorrison Elli! She can definitely give me pointers on how to be a successful comedian!

It’s the last day on earth. In one sentence, what would you do?

Sing romantic ballads to drown my sorrows away!

Scott

(The ‘Jaded General’)

What’s your best quality?

How I take no nonsense from other people. I stand my ground strong and do as I please whether people like it or nah.

Faves? (Music, Colour, Movie, Food)

Music?! I got no time for that nonsense!

Dirt brown. I just dig it.

Don’t remember its title, but its about a guy from a military platoon infiltrating an enemy battalion. Sweet-talking his way through ’n hiding under a different identity then pretending like he’s on the enemy’s side before taking all ‘em suckers down one by one!

Whatever’s not being served at boot camp! Though my momma makes a nummy sharped’s pie.

Describe your craziest dream.

In a world as wacko as this one my dreams hardly ever compare!

Best memory from childhood?

That time I beat ‘ol pops in long and difficult wrestling match. Not fair ’n square though! I may or may not have drugged his coffee before we fought…

Most embarrassing moment at school?

More nerve-grating than embarrassing but our general was ordering us to do some drills and I just couldn’t care less! As punishment that shmuck forced me to 130 push-ups in front of all the other cadets!

Describe the first job you ever had.

I once trained a bunch of raccoons to hunt down a two wild hounds that were bothering the neighborhood kids. Didn’t do it to help ‘em just wanted to own an army of feral ‘coons ’n for them to pay me a grand for my work. Funny enough I’m darn sure there’s a book about this with an almost-but-not-quite similar premise…

Ten years from now, what are you doing?

High up in the ranks of whatever business I take up… ordering my goons to do whateva I want ‘em to do whether they want to or nah!

.My dream date would be with ___________, doing what?

No thanks! I’d rather mess up the lives of potential lovebirds than be a lovesick fool myself.

It’s the last day on earth. In one sentence, what would you do?

Terrorize the neighborhood with my ever-growing raccoon army!!

Cameron

(The Explorer)

What’s your best quality?

Well, bad luck seems to follow me wherever I go… But I don’t let that stop me from getting where I want to be!

Faves? (Music, Colour, Movie, Food)

Fantasy video game music, especially The Myth of Link! I love listening to that genre while on my expeditions.

Red! It’s exciting and passionate, just like me.

The newest Metal Might Movie obviously, though I will say I prefer the comic books.

Rocky road ice cream! there’s a shop nearby my home that makes the most DELICIOUS rocky road ice cream imaginable!

Describe your craziest dream.

I’ve was forced to live in a bubble my whole life! That’s terrifying!!! I’ve got almost nothing to do in a small space like that…

Best memory from childhood?

That time I first met my closest buds! They were a bit mean at first… But now we spend every waking hour at school together! I love them all to bits, but they always ask me for my lunch money and seem…distracted… whenever I geek about Metal Might!

Most embarrassing moment at school?

I did terrible in a math test and the teacher exposed my mistakes to the entire class! I’m normally good at logic-based problems, but that was the first and only time I did terrible in a test…

Describe the first job you ever had.

I was part of a Boys Scout group back in the day. We sold granola cookies!

Ten years from now, what are you doing?

I want to travel the world one day and write a book about all the best places I visited! I know there’s tons of books already about this concept, but I have a feeling this one’s REALLY special.

My dream date would be with ___________, doing what?

I may be a lively guy, but I would prefer being with someone more serious or otherwise collected to ground me out. Maybe we can watch the stars or I can show them all the best touristy spots in my city.

It’s the last day on earth. In one sentence, what would you do?

Traverse the city one last time. Then right before the day ends, sit on top of the tallest building while reading my favorite comic series!

#camp tv reloaded #td brick #td mary (camp tv)#td staci #td mike #td scott #td cameron #I'll make a separate post just for some extra trivia bits #I feel tempted to maintag this but I don’t want this blog to gain much exposure so ehhh

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smoochinforabruisin · 1 year

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"You should stick around here."

The Sailor stared at the Soldier, that blank stare as present as always on her face. The seafarer was hard to read. Scratch that, there was absolutely no way of knowing what he was thinking or what her next move was. And that was exactly what the Soldier liked so much about her. He scratched the top of his helmet, a nervous habit, and coughed into his other hand.

"I mean, you've seen the Sniper while you were here. An absolute toothpick of a man. That camping wuss could break another bone or two easily! I could show you right now!" Soldier insisted.

Behind him, inside the RED base, he heard the youngest team member mumble "aw crap", followed by footsteps and the Sniper's name being called. Perfect! The Scout must be bringing his long-legged lover here right now! Then, Soldier could break his legs again and the Sailor would need to stay another few weeks and then he'd... He'd... Wait, then what? What was his end goal here?

The Sailor was still staring at him. Cogs were turning slowly in both of their heads, but eventually the Sailor started giggling. It was the sweetest siren song the Soldier had ever heard.

"You have the funniest ways of showing you like people." Sailor said in that matter-of-fact way he always used.

As refreshing as usual, the words anchored Soldier's brain in the reality of his situation straight away. He liked the Sailor. He really liked her. He would probably go so far as to think he loved the seafarer. Not say it though. The only thing he'd proclaim his love for was the great blessed land of liberty! But maybe... He might love the Sailor even more than the USA.

And wasn't that a shame? Soldier only realised this now that the Sailor's contract had run out and he was leaving for other mercenary jobs.

Before he could scream and shout his love confession though, Sailor had already spoken up again. "I've got some free time in a month. Maybe i can come visit you then. How's that sound?" she suggested.

"A month...?" The Soldier mumbled. That sounded terrible! A whole month without the Sailor would be absolute torture for Soldier. His heart ached at the very thought.

But stronger than the longing was his discipline. 'WHAT'S WITH THIS PATHETIC SOFTNESS?' he mentally reprimanded himself. 'WHERE IS YOUR SELF RESPECT AND DIGNITY, SOLDIER? YOU WILL STAND BY FOR A MONTH AND THAT IS AN ORDER!' Right of course! It was an endurance test for him! And any Soldier worth his rocket launcher could handle the torture he'd be given for the sweet sweet reward of dying from torture wounds! All for his country! Though, he'd never endured heart torture before. How exciting! Maybe he wouldn't even die for his country on this painful escapade. Or maybe he would but... For her, instead.

"YES PERFECT A MONTH IS GREAT!"

"Okay, great! I'll keep my schedule free, promise. And..." the Sailor stepped closer, then closer, and then the Soldier could see his face from under his helmet's rim. The usual blank expression was replaced with a big grin, uneven front teeth poking out in that adorable way they always did when the Sailor smiled. Her cheeks were also a bit red which Soldier had no idea how to interpret. He might be sick? Then they could go to Medic and they could spend more time together and-

A tiny, fast, little kiss was quickly pressed against Soldier's cheek. Before he even had the time to fully register it, it was already over. But he could still feel the heat spreading through his face as he stared ahead.

The Sailor meanwhile had already turned around again, leaving for the cab she'd called, voice cracking as he yelled "IALSOREALLYLIKEYOUSORRYIDIDNTSAYITSOONERGOTTAGOCATCHMYTRAINBYEEEEE"

Soldier stood stiffly for about another hour at the RED base's entrance. He felt like steam was wafting off of his head and rising up into the air. But finally, he managed to turn heel and march back into the base. He felt stiffer than nornal. More excited yet simultaneously, far more relaxed. He almost wanted to skip down the hall. But that good mood quickly dwindled when he reached the community room. Upon entering he was immediately verbally assaulted by the young Scout reclining in the sofa.

"Ey what was that about breakin' Snipes' legs? Don't think i didn't hear that cause i totally did and i went n warned him cause we're not doin' that again if i can help it. You don't even know how much the broken leg meant to Snipes he was like totally depressed n stuff, talkin' crap about bein' useless n all that! Just cause you wanna keep your lil crush around, does not mean you can be all brutal n crap to my boyfriend you got that, chucklehead? You don't get to call the shots 'round here on who stays on the team and who leaves alright, that's the admin's job and miss pauling's, you got that? So snipes is hidin' right now and I'm not tellin' you nothing about where he is! Not one hint from me, and the others neither cause they don't know about this and I'm not tellin' em! Are you even listening?"

Maybe he'd just break Scout's legs instead.

#soldier tag #self ship writing #Ehehehe.... Just a little silly #s/i the Sailor

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dawn-petrichor-world · 1 year

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Till the end of time

Summary: Now he understands why every first day after the full moon, you disappear and always come back covered with dirt from hair to toe and some scratches and bruises.

Warning: +600 words of fluff not proofread.

A/N: I am an utopian/dreamer person. You will probably don't like it because it doesn't fit the universe and I'm aware about it but I literally visual the scene in my head while I was listening to 'Concerning Hobbits' from "Howard Shore", things that should have unblocked my imagination for my first Tolkien fic ideas because this one you will read (I hope, it's the third fics idea). I'm sorry @heilith

And yes, you can consider it as a cliché. Enjoy.

Spring, ô spring. The most beautiful and powerful season of the year with the perfume of fresh flowers that blossom and some animals get out of winter sleep.

This day is fully exciting with a lot of happy screams and laughter at the edge of the Shire.

Holding your dress too long that was lying around the floor, to ease when you run after some youngster or to run away from them with a huge smile on your face.

Once the meal's ready, hands in the air, all of you decide to roll down the hill to go to eat but it's a wrong idea. The elder who is not impressed with your status or who you are, scolds you because you should not present yourself in that condition.

Feet in the river looking at fishes swimming between them, you’re trying to clean the hands and faces of your friends. When it’s your turn, unfortunately, they are throwing water at you but stop when the elder yells at you. All getting out of the river soaking like wet animals, she’s now upset and orders you to sit under a tree. She’s watching you and not afraid to throw things if one of you doesn’t stay calm as she requires.

Winter ended a couple of weeks ago, the weather is still a little bit cold, and eating under the shadow of leaves is perfect to be sick if the clothes are damp. No choice but to move everything under the sky with no clouds to bother you.

What a fool's idea if all of you want to end up red like a tomato or pink like shrimp.

Laying on the grass when the sun is less powerful, the elder is mumbling and applying on your skin exposed and your face a concoction she made after lunch to soothe the burn.

All night, around a fire camp you share some stories about a hobbit, thirteen dwarves, a human, some elves, and a wizard who fought against a dragon and plenty of orcs.

The elder joins you and hums some songs that make you fall like flies one by one.

At the dawn, time to say goodbye but nothing is more painful than hugs, some cry because the previous day was short and it's tiresome to wait until the next full moon. You have to remind them the relationship between elves, dwarves, humans, and hobbits is not perfect like yours. Only spreading the best part of each species and time will create the best future for all.

In the middle of the way home, you find more than three guards where you left them, forming a shield to protect a tall blonde man who wears a cloak which the face is hidden under a big cap, once reveals you recognize the Elvenking Thranduil who followed you.

- “My king!” You immediately kneel but he lifts your chin and lends a hand to help you to stand on your feet.

- “Meldis! Why you never told me about your adventures with all your friends.” He asks.

- “My king doesn’t need to worry, I always choose the best guard to escort me. And I spend with them childish activities, no need to bother you with that.”

- “Everything you did, do, or will do cannot bother me. And following you and discovering what you do every full moon is one of the many reasons I want to spend my life by your side.”

He helps you to climb the back of the deer and wants to know how you fried under the sun even though he watched everything but doesn’t exactly what happened the day and night with them. You enjoy all the rides back to talk about them and what you did with them.

Thanks for reading it. Hope you like it. My Masterlists

#Tolkien #J.R.R Tolkien #Hobbits #Elves #Dwarves #Humans #Thranduil

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fuckyeahvanhalen86-95 · 2 years

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A little over a week ago, we spoke with Sammy Hagar about his new album Crazy Times, which he cut with Nashville producer Dave Cobb and his longtime band The Circle. “It’s a concept record,” Hagar said. “It’s about how I feel about everything that has gone on since the pandemic started.”

Near the end of the interview, the conversation inevitably turned toward Van Halen and the possibility of a tribute concert to Eddie Van Halen featuring all the surviving members of the band. A few days later, we heard from Hagar’s camp that he wanted to get back on the phone: He had a lot more to say about his former band. “I really think that it’s OK just to speak how I really feel now,” he said when we reconnected, “because there is no animosity left in my heart, in my soul, anywhere.”

We wound up talking about Van Halen for more than an hour. The conversation touched on everything from his initial departure from the band in 1996 to his emotional reunion with Eddie Van Halen a few months before his death in 2020. Along the way, he revealed that Irving Azoff, Van Halen’s manager since the early 2000s, reached out last year to gauge his interest in a possible Las Vegas residency with drummer Alex Van Halen, bassist Michael Anthony, and a superstar guitar player. There are no concrete plans at the moment to make that a reality, but he does hope to finally make peace with Alex Van Halen in the near future and reestablish a friendship that has suffered from years of estrangement.

Here’s a slightly edited transcript of the conversation:

Let’s go all the way back to the Twister soundtrack in 1996. The story you often hear is you guys couldn’t agree on the lyrics to “Humans Being,” and everything just unraveled from there. Is that accurate?

“Yes, it really is. But that was the temperature of the band at that time. It didn’t matter what we were going to do. We were fighting about everything. That was because, I think, we were poisoned by the management that came in at that time. But that particular argument was about the lyrics.

I talked to the director [Jan de Bont], and he sent me the script for the movie and said, ‘Study this. There’s some really great terminology that they use in relation to the tornado chasers.’ And so I drifted through it and I got a bunch of cool lines out of it. I don’t remember them all now, but I just remember that the chorus was ‘dropped down.’ It was like ‘Right Now’ in that it was a very percussive lyric, and a great phrasing to start the chorus.

But Eddie and Al went nuts and said, ‘Oh, my God. This is corny. You can’t talk directly about the movie.’ It’s not like they had an idea, but at that time they just didn’t want to use too much verbiage about actual twisters. I thought, ‘Well, I think they’re wrong, but OK, whatever.’

I come back into the studio to do it with producer Bruce Fairbairn. He gets Eddie out of the room and says, ‘Look, how about just a bunch of imagery?’ And then Eddie had said ‘Humans Being’ for some reason. That was the first time he ever really titled a song that I was involved in writing. And I thought, ‘Humans Being. Yes. That’s fine. I like it.’

So I just blurted out this stuff. I sat on the hood of a car in the back of the studio with Bruce Fairbairn, and I just started writing things down. ‘You break this, I’ll break all that/You break my balls with all your crap/Spread your disease like lemmings breeding/That’s what makes us humans being.’ I had just watched a documentary about lemmings jumping off cliffs in Alaska. I was just thinking of anything and everything that was in front of me. And Ed loves it: ‘Yeah, yeah. This is what I was talking about.’”

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Did you quit or were you fired?

“Oh, I was fired. I was told that I quit by Eddie. It was Father’s Day, Sunday morning, 9 am. The phone rings and I’m laying there with my brand new baby. He goes, ‘You know, you always just wanted to be a solo artist, so go ahead and be one. We’re going to get Dave back in the band.’ And when he said that, I flew up out of bed like I’d seen a ghost. And I said, ‘Wow’ and a few expletives went back and forth from me. That is not what the song ‘Eagles Fly’ is about, but it’s the opening lines of it. [Sunday morning, nine A.M./I saw fire in the sky/I felt my heart pound in my chest/I heard an eagle cry.]

I called the manager that was poisoning all this stuff and I said, ‘Guess what just happened?’ And he went, ‘Oh, fuck. He did it? He made the call?’ I said, ‘Yes, he made the call.’ And he goes, ‘Let me get back to you. I suppose you want a golden parachute.’ I said, ‘I want to know what the fuck is going on. I don’t need anything. I just want to know what the fuck is going on.’

That’s what happened. It wasn’t like he said, ‘You’re fired.’ He just said, ‘You’re quitting the band. You’re leaving the band. We’re moving on without you.’ Whatever. It was not my call, whatsoever.”

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I’m sure you had sympathy for Gary Cherone because you’d been in his position a little over a decade earlier. He didn’t have it easy.

“Oh, I have total sympathy for him. He’s such a great guy, and he’s a talented guy. But he was so wrong at that stage of the band. He might have been able to replace Dave [in 1985]. The band still had a lot of legs left back then. When Cherone came, that type of music, even Van Halen, the mighty Van Halen, was going down, because of the grunge movement and all that. I mean, it was kind of over for us. We weren’t getting all the positive press. We weren’t getting the spins on MTV. We weren’t getting the spins even on radio. And so that was bad timing for Gary. So whether or not it didn’t work for whatever reasons, it was just a bad time to be making that move. That was the biggest mistake the band has ever made, I think.”

Let’s move onto the Sam and Dave tour of 2002. Did that go as well as you hoped it would?

“Yes and no. That tour was successful. I did very well on that tour as far as the comparisons went [between us as vocalists]. And the idea was to get Van Halen’s attention and get us both back in the band and do what was inevitable. A reunion tour with both of us would have been the biggest thing Van Halen ever did.

But it didn’t work out that way because Dave doesn’t play well with others. He just made a mess out of it. It could have ended with us both standing there with our arms in the air going, ‘Hey, good job, buddy. Let’s go talk to the brothers.’ That was my intention, and it didn’t happen. Instead, I got a reunion out of it. It wasn’t my favorite reunion, but that’s what happened.”

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I read stories in the press that things were so bad on that tour between you and Dave that they physically built a wall backstage to separate you.

“Yes. I think that’s production managers and tour managers getting in the middle of our bullshit. They made the wall since we nearly got into fisticuffs one night. They promoters were like ‘Oh, we gotta keep these guys apart. This tour’s doing too good. We don’t want to see it break up because there’s some lawsuit.’ And so they put up a barricade between our dressing rooms.”

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It’s like you guys are the Israelis and the Palestinians.

“Yes. It was the wall that Trump wanted to build. It was so thin though. It was just a bunch of plywood on little stands. If you really wanted to get to somebody, you could just kick it down. I used to knock on the plywood to yell at David when I was getting ready to go on stage because we flip-flopped: He would open one night, I’d open the next. And when he had already played, I’d be beating on the thing and I would say, ‘Dave, I’m going on. Come on up in about an hour and we’ll play a couple tunes together.’ He wouldn’t even respond.”

You got into a lot of sordid details about the 2004 Van Halen reunion tour in your book. Eddie was deep into the throes of alcoholism back then. He was a very sick guy. Do you have any regrets about revealing everything that went down?

“You know, I was so angry after that tour with everything that had gone on. I wrote about it all, yes. Everything I said was true. I regret it now only because if someone reads it after Eddie’s death, they can’t go to Eddie and ask him about any of it. Back then, it was my word against his. But I don’t remember if anyone in their camp ever spoke up about any of it. I think everyone knew what condition Eddie was in. It wasn’t any frickin’ secret.

Rolling Stone has that whole article about that guy that befriended him. Just read that through the lines, and you’ll see it’s the same guy that I was dealing with. I just wish I knew he was sick at that time. He had had his tongue cut off, but he was adamant that he was cancer-free and he was healthy and fine. He wouldn’t listen to anyone. If someone would say, ‘Ed, you need to not drink so much, and you need to get some food into you,’ he was like, ‘Fuck you.’ Nobody, not even his brother, could get through to him.

But in writing about it, I broke a rule. I broke the locker-room rule amongst athletes and amongst friends and clubs. It was a boys’ club. ‘None of this gets out of here. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’ I was just so angry. I really wanted to get my side of the story out because a lot of people thought, ‘Well, maybe it was my fault.’”

That tour does sound like it was absolute hell for you.

“There are things that I can tell you now that I didn’t waste my time on in the book…He was so out of tune and playing the songs so wrong that there were times I couldn’t sing well. I had a hard time staying on key. I’d go over and I would sing with the bass because Mike would always be in tune. I’d sing to the bass, but the problem is they had Ed’s guitar so loud because he would go out there every day during soundcheck and make sure his guitar was screaming. He would insist that his guitar was extremely loud in the mix. Hey, it’s Eddie Van Halen. I wanted to hear it loud too. But if you’re just hearing my voice and his guitar, you’re going, ‘Man, Sammy’s not singing too good.’ Or if you’re really a good musician, you’d go, ‘Well, wait a minute. Eddie’s not playing so good. So what’s going on?’”

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You mentioned that recent Rolling Stone article. I want to read a few things that Eddie said about you in it. Let’s start with, “It’s all about the money when it comes to Hagar. He used the band to elevate himself.”

“No. That’s when Ed was in that frame of mind where he wasn’t thinking straight. He was being fed weird information. He was doing a lot of drugs and alcohol and he was paranoid. He wasn’t thinking right. Everyone knows it. Look at the pictures of him on the internet from that era. He was a mess. He wasn’t thinking straight, and somebody was poisoning him with that.

I am not about the money. I am about fame and fortune, yes. That’s what I wanted my whole life. Once I got it, the question becomes what you do with it. You use your celebrity to enlighten people and to bring awareness. That’s what I’m all about, and I’ve always been about that.

I’m a business guy. I love business. I love creating things, and seeing them make it. That bothered Ed and Al to death because they didn’t think like that. They just would say, ‘What are you doing?’ ‘I’m making a bicycle.’ ‘Why are you making a bicycle?’ I’m going, ‘Because I ride bikes. I want to make a good one, and make one better than everything else.’ And that’s always my premise. But my ambition and my creativity just drove them nuts because they didn’t understand it.”

Here’s what Ed said about Michael Anthony: “When Hagar quit, Mike went with him instead of staying with Alex and me. That was as much of a betrayal as Roth blindsiding us when he quit. We didn’t see either one coming!! All we had was ourselves.”

“That is so not true. Mikey didn’t leave Van Halen. Mikey was replaced in Van Halen by [Eddie’s son] Wolfie, and he found out about it in the press.”

Ed’s perspective was that Michael essentially quit Van Halen when he started doing gigs with you.

“Yes. That’s because he wasn’t in a very good frame of mind. Mikey sat around for five friggin’ years. And then he started coming out with my band as a special guest. It was really cool because it made me feel comfortable, especially on the Sam and Dave tour, to have Mikey there. It warranted me playing more Van Halen material.

Before that I was only playing two or three Van Halen songs. With the Wabos, I was not about trying to be a Van Halen cover band. And Dave had come out with this Van Halen cover band playing all Van Halen. He didn’t even play ‘Just a Gigolo.’ He didn’t even play ‘California Girls’! These are his biggest hits. And I thought, ‘What an idiot. I don’t think that’s cool.’

Having Mikey there made it more fun for me to play the Van Halen stuff. And still today, in The Circle, we play more Van Halen than we ever did because Mikey’s in the band, number one. And number two, there is no more Van Halen. So now, I feel great about playing it. It’s part of my life. I was in that band for about 11 years.

And when Dave came back to the band, they pretended like I’d never been in it. There weren’t those Number One albums, those Number One hits. Those 40 million albums never existed. That’s stupid. It’s not what I do right now with Mike.

But with Mike, they just interpreted it that way. The second Mikey would’ve got the call to be in the studio, he would’ve been the first guy there, like he always is. Mikey would join Van Halen today and quit The Circle, if there was such a thing. Mikey never betrayed anybody. He would just say, ‘I’m going out and having fun with Sam.’”

Tell me about getting back in touch with Ed in the final months of his life.

“It was the craziest thing. I heard he was sick, and I heard it from pretty good inside information, so I knew it was true. Every now and then, people would send me photos of him on the internet. He did not look good at all. I’d be like, ‘Fuck.’

So I called up [Steve] Lukather. Him and Ed are dear friends. I said, ‘How’s Ed doing?’ He goes, ‘Aww, Sam, not so good.’ I said, ‘Would you please give him my phone number and tell him if he wants to, to please call me. I would love to talk to him. I don’t want anything. I’m not trying to get a reunion. Trust me.’

He told me later, ‘I gave it to him.’ And I said, ‘What did he say?’ He said, ‘He loves you, man.’ So then [the comedian] George Lopez calls me and said, ‘Sammy, you got to call Ed. He’s in real bad shape, and you need to call him.’ And I said, ‘Well, fuck. Here’s the number I have.’ And he goes, ‘No, that’s not his number anymore.’ So I said, ‘Give me his number.’

I had told a couple other people the same thing. I told Irving Azoff to have Ed call me. I left Alex Van Halen voice messages and emails, which he never returned. I said, ‘I would love to talk to Ed if he’s willing to talk to me.’ And I told everybody the same thing. I didn’t want to call Ed in his condition and have him say, ‘Fuck you, you asshole. You quit the band.’

I’d have a hard time not grabbing the rope and arguing with him. So I didn’t know what his headspace was because that’s where we left off, and I didn’t know if he was still there. So anyway, I called George and I said, ‘George, I’ll do it.’ And he goes, ‘You’ve got to do it Sammy. You’ve got to do it.’

So I hung up and called Ed. I said, ‘Ed, man. How are you, man?’ He said, ‘I’m hanging in here, dude. I’ve been fighting this for fuckin’ 15 years.’ I said, ‘I know, it’s terrible.’ And we went right into that. We didn’t try to bury any hatchets or apologize for anything. We just went right into how he was doing and he told me.

I said, ‘I’ve been wanting to reach out to you. I just didn’t know what kind of headspace you’re in. I called your brother. I called Lukather. I called Azoff…’ And he goes, ‘Why didn’t you call me?’ And I go, ‘Well, that’s a good question, and I’m calling you now.’ We had a big laugh about it. He said, ‘You want to talk to me? Talk to me.’

I felt like he was in a really good headspace. It really touched me hard when he said it like that. ‘If you want to talk to me, call me.’ He was never that kind of guy before. Ed was always a humble, quiet, sweet little guy. Then he went crazy…with a different kind of attitude, too.

But this time he was purely solid in his head. He had really come to terms, I felt, with his illness. I told my wife, ‘Ed really sounded like the most together Eddie Van Halen I’ve ever known, of all times.’

He said to me, ‘I’m going to beat this shit… I think I’m going to need to finish up [my treatments] this year, and maybe next year we can get together and make some noise.’ I said, ‘Ed, that’s not what I’m calling about, but if that’s going to happen, then you can always count me in to play music with you, my friend.’

So then a couple other times, about a week later, I started texting him and sending him pictures of funny shit that I had stored up, things that happened when we weren’t talking. He started sending me stuff and we texted a lot back and forth, maybe a couple of times a week.

And then all of a sudden, I didn’t hear from him and he didn’t answer my texts. I left him a voicemail. ‘Ed. I ain’t hearing from you. Don’t make me nervous.’ And so he gets back and says, ‘Dude, I just got out of the hospital. I got a fucking tumor on the side of my neck that just popped up that they had to remove.’ I said, ‘I want to come and see you, Ed.’ He’s going, ‘I’ll let you know when.’ I said, ‘I’m going to come over. I’m going to cook for you and fuckin’ make a big old pot of spaghetti, man.’

When he lived next door, I used to cook for him all the time. So I said, ‘I’m going to come over and cook for you and really catch up and hey, maybe we can even write a song. Blah, blah, blah.’ And he said, ‘Yeah, I’ll let you know.’ And then I started getting less and less communication. I think the last one he wrote said, ‘Sorry. I’m not responding. I’m in the hospital.’

We had been doing FaceTime and shit before that. I’m looking now and the last video I sent was October 1, 2020. He died that week.”

That must have been just an unimaginable gut punch.

“Yes. [Choking up a bit] I don’t think I’ve cried that hard since my mother or father’s death. Even when you know it’s coming, you always have hope. You always hope for that miracle. You hear about people that had stage four cancer, and had friggin’ everything removed but their brain, and all of a sudden, a miracle, they come back. So yes, you’re always hoping. Ed had the money, he had the fame to where any doctor in the world would’ve dropped anything to try to save his life. So obviously, he had the best you could get, and it didn’t work.”

In those e-mails Rolling Stone recently published, he said he wanted to do the big tour with you, Dave, and Michael. Wolfgang confirmed this in many interviews. It’s going to go down in rock history as one of the best tours that never happened.

“What a shame, huh? I mean, honestly, the shame is that Eddie Van Halen’s no longer with us. That’s the shame. But if we would’ve done that…All the damage that I did with my book, the damage Ed did with his actions and his stuff he did in public, and the Cherone shenanigans, and the Roth reunions, my reunion… That would’ve righted everything, if we would have did that tour. That would have righted everything, and I wanted that so bad. Just to all of us to go, ‘We’re clean again. We’re angels. We’re spotless.’ I’m sure this’ll become clickbait if you run it, but there was a time there where I was embarrassed to say I was in Van Halen.”

When was that?

“About six or seven years ago, when they were out with Dave, and Ed was still really in bad shape. They were out there making a lot of noise as Van Halen, and somebody would say, ‘Sammy Hagar from Van Halen.’ And I would go, ‘Hey, hey. Just Sam Hagar. That’s enough.’ I wanted people to know, but it was almost like it was a black mark because Roth was doing crazy stuff, and Ed was doing crazy stuff. I didn’t want anyone to think that I was Diamond Dave.”

Let’s move into the present now. Joe Satriani jammed with Alex and Jason Newsted last year. Did Joe call you up before doing that to say it was happening?

“No, because the Van Halen camp is 100% secrecy. I bet when he walked through the door, they made him sign something, and I’m dead serious. Alex is a very, very secretive guy. I don’t know how he can keep his lips so sealed. I could probably say something horrible about him right now and he wouldn’t even respond. Don’t take that the wrong way. I have nothing bad to say about him. I’m just talking about how stubborn he is. He does not budge.

But Joe told me about it later, after it happened. I knew there was talk of it because Irving Azoff had called me. He said, ‘I want to do a residency in Vegas with you and Mike and Al and a superstar guitar player.’ And I said ‘Like who?’ And he said, ‘Like Joe Satriani.’

I said, ‘It just sounds like Chickenfoot with Alex Van Halen instead of Chad Smith.’ I wasn’t much for that, as much as I love Joe. He could do that job best, without a doubt, because he’s so friggin’ anal about the way he plays, and every single note. I said to Irving, ‘I’m going to call Joe.’

When I did, he told me what happened. And I said, ‘Jason Newsted? What the fuck is going on here, man? Whose idea is this? This must be a Dave idea.’ And Irving said it was a Dave idea.

Why would he want anyone but Mike? It’s probably because he knows that Mike and I are so close. I would imagine if they would’ve called Mike, Mike would’ve said, ‘Yes, I’ll do it with Sam.’ Because without Ed, there is no Van Halen to start with. So now, you’re going to go out and just play the early songs, and not play the second era?

That would be the biggest failure Van Halen ever had if they call themselves ‘Van Halen’ if they didn’t have Mikey. If it’s just Alex with other guys, that’s like what Jason Bonham does with Led Zeppelin. There’s a million bands out there doing that. It would be totally nuts. Also, I’d prefer that nobody attempts to replace Eddie Van Halen. I think that’s blasphemy and should be illegal.

Anyway, I think that Irving boohooed it, and Dave went around him and did it anyway. I’m surprised that Alex went that far, but Alex might have just been his methodical self and said, ‘Well, let’s see what this is like. Let’s see how it feels.’”

If they wanted to do a Vegas residency, or any kind of tour, with you and Alex and Mike, is that something that you may be interested in pursuing?

“Not a tour, no. I wouldn’t leave what I’m doing for that. I would make myself available to have a rehearsal, and see which guitar player would work the best. I’m telling you, Joe would be the best. But like I said, then it’s just kind of Chickenfoot with Alex, which there’s a problem there. And I think that’s probably what they were thinking when they tried to get a different bass player, but that’s stupid, too.

I would definitely love to play with Alex and Mike with a great guitar player that doesn’t try to just mimic Eddie perfectly. There’s so many great guitar players. There’s Steve Vai. There’s frigging John 5, who is a great guitar player."

Do you like the idea then of a short Vegas residency or are you thinking of merely a one-off tribute show?

“I’m thinking of one-off weekend or something where we give the money away to some cause. It can’t just be, ‘Hey, we’re going to grab some money.’ I got plenty of money. There’s nothing that I would do for money that I just wasn’t in love with the idea of doing. And I’m not in love with the idea of being Van Halen without Eddie Van Halen.

Matter of fact, I’m dead against it. But I would love to play music with Alex and Mike again. I would love to play those song agains. And if we did a residency or a tribute, I would sing 50/50. I would sing half the Dave songs too for the Van Halen fans. And those songs are great. I don’t mind singing some of them. The lyrics don’t fit in my life today, but neither does ‘Rock Candy’ or ‘Bad Motor Scooter.’”

I think at this point, I’d rather hear you sing “Ain’t Talkin’ ’bout Love” than Dave. He just really can’t sing anymore.

“It sure sounds that way to me, everything I’ve heard. But I just think it’s crazy to do anything that’s called Van Halen without Eddie. I would love it if Dave wanted to do a tribute where he’d sing ten of his songs, and then I’d come out and do ten of mine. That would be great with Alex and Mike and maybe a bunch of different guitar players. Look at what Dave [Grohl] just did for Taylor [Hawkins]. That’s one of the greatest events in rock history. That’s right up there with the early Farm Aids, and right up there with Live Aid. That was a great event, and that could be done for Ed with everybody playing.”

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Why don’t you just call up Alex and talk this stuff over?

“Well, I’ve left him many messages, but not for this one. But I always think about Alex. I just dreamt about him two nights ago. I dream about people constantly. I believe it’s real cosmic shit that happened on another dimension. I dream about Eddie all time. But Al, I dreamt about him and it was so wonderful. It was friendly. I said, ‘Come on, Al. Let’s do something and let’s do it right.’

The only way to do it is to put both eras together and do it for a cause, for a purpose, not for a money grab, not like the whole tour, where we’re going to make 10 million bucks apiece. None of that shit. It could be a residency, it could be two or three nights. I wouldn’t do more than that unless the rehearsals blew my mind and I’m going, ‘This is the most fun I had since the original Van Halen.’ That would cause me to be more open. I mean, if we do it and it’s wonderful and successful and the fans love it, I’d go, ‘OK, let’s go and do 10 cities.’ But I couldn’t just go out as Van Halen. There’s no friggin’ way.”

When’s the last time you spoke with Alex? Was it 2004 on the last tour?

“Yes. At the end of the tour. We finished in Albuquerque, and Ed went completely off the rails. Irving Azoff grabbed me at the end of the show and said, ‘Get in the car and get the fuck out here.’ We were supposed to go on the same plane together. We had a plane and we were going to fly home, and he saw what was going on earlier and he chartered me another plane by myself with my wife and my tour manager.

I was walking off the stage, somebody goes and grabs me and said, ‘Keep on going. Get the fuck out of here, right now. Go.’ Well, he just knew a fight would have broken out because Ed was so belligerent on that last show that I wanted to beat his ass.

So Alex came up to me right there at the same time and gave me a big hug and said, ‘I love you, man. Thank you. Be careful. Safe flight.’ And that was the last time. And I think we talked on the phone a little bit, but I don’t know what happened with Al. He kind of drank the Kool-Aid or something.”

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They haven’t done much with the catalog from your era of the band. Are you hoping they re-release it?

“Well, I think it’s going to have to be inevitable because we sold 46, 47 million records with me in the band. They were all Number One albums. You can’t just leave that and have it sit in the Dumpster. Warner Brothers has been pushing forever to do something, but I know Dave is against it. Dave likes to pretend like I was never in the band.

Alex is not active. He’s not out there pushing it and talking to people like you. He’s not making plans. I think he’s still licking his wounds from his brother’s death, and God bless him, man. I don’t know how he could deal with it. I’m having a hard enough time myself.

I think when Alex comes out of his shell, he’ll probably do it. And like I said, I’m thinking about reaching out to Alex. You’re pushing me in that direction, and I’m feeling it because it’s time. It’s been a couple of years now that I gave up on him.”

Do you think the albums need to be remixed or just remastered?

“Remastered. Remastering can bring out more of what’s on that tape that you don’t hear in the old mastering. It doesn’t hurt anything. I don’t like changing things too much from the vintage. I’m a purist. That’s why people love vinyl. They like to put them on and have them sound like the old records…I’m thinking of the early stuff like OU812. That didn’t have enough bottom on it, and it had no bass. It was one of those…I hate to tell you why, but everyone was so fucked up. They had the bass so loud in the studio since everything was really loud. It was so loud on the playbacks. But if you turned it down, the bass was not there. It needs to be remastered more than any of them.”

Album box sets are also a chance to release demos, studio outtakes, and live stuff from the era. Fans would love to hear that.

“I don’t know how much of that stuff is around. It’s all in 5150 studios somewhere. I shouldn’t be saying where it is, but I know it exists. And I do believe Wolfie is in charge of it. I heard things were turned over more to Wolfie than to Al.”

Have you spoken much to Wolfie since he was a kid on the 2004 tour?

“Yes, but not a ton. I really gave him a lot of love when he made his first record, and he gave me some back. It was very cordial, not like, ‘Hey, let’s get together’ and stuff like that. I mean, Wolfie blows my mind. Look what he did over in London for that Taylor thing. When he played Eddie’s stuff, man, that was fuckin’ really good. He just keeps impressing me with his talent. That song ‘Distance’ is so soulful. I had no idea he could sing like that.

He’s really got his pop’s talent. It’s kind of like Jason and John Bonham. I mean, Jason’s just like his dad, man. He plays fuckin’ that good. And I think Wolfie, maybe not as innovative because nobody is, but yes, he’s definitely doing it right. I praise him for not trying to be Eddie.

But now, I’ll make a statement. If there was ever a situation where there was a Van Halen tribute in some kind of way with Alex, Mike, myself, Dave, if he would cooperate, and Wolfie playing Eddie’s parts, now that would be worthy of calling ‘Van Halen,’ for a moment. Wolfie would be crazy to drop his life and his creativity and his career to be his dad’s mimic. But for a moment, it could be great.”

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Just to clarify a few things, when did Irving Azoff call you with the idea of the Las Vegas residency?

“I’m trying to remember. It was six months ago or something. It was probably a month before [the rehearsals] hit the press.”

There’s been nothing since then?

“Irving said, ‘Alex isn’t yet ready to do anything. He’s still in mourning.’”

In your mind, it’s still a possibility though?

“I guess so. But it’s not on the top of my agenda. Waiting on someone from Van Halen, I don’t care which guy it is, it’s how the band broke up to begin with.”

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Roth was asked recently about a tribute show. He said, “I was the one who named the band. Are you talking about a tribute to me?”

“[Huge laugh] There you go! [Even bigger laugh] I should start following Roth. He would keep me laughing, I’m sure. Oh my god, this guy! What the fuck? Just imagine if I said that. I was in the band. I wrote all the songs with Eddie, just like he did. He wrote the lyrics and the melodies. Warner Brothers mentioned wanting to name the band Van Hagar when I joined. Eddie and I said, ‘No, no, no. This is Van Halen.’ I was joining Van Halen. And so imagine if I went around talking like that? I’d get thrown out of the business. How can Dave get away with that shit? Oh, what a fuckin’ screwball.”

In that same little interview at the airport, he said you’d need two of everything for a Van Halen tribute. He mentioned Lukather and Satriani, Jason Newsted and Michael Anthony, Tommy Lee and Alex Van Halen.

“They don’t need two bass players. Michael is a better bass player today than he was in Van Halen. He’s as good a singer, if not better, than he was in Van Halen. I’m sure Alex can play as good as good. He’s a great, great drummer. I know what I can do. I’m probably better than I’ve ever been. I think Diamond Dave is the one we want to worry about here.”

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He mentioned Pink as one of the possible singers.

“I love her. I bet she could crush his era of songs. She’s got that husky voice. She’s got the range and the power. She would erase him if she jumped up there and started singing that shit. I wold love it. I would throw my hat in the ring with Pink any day.”

The reality is that Dave is basically retired. Wolfgang is wisely doing his own music. Alex is off the grid. You and Michael are the only ones keeping the music alive.

“One hundred percent. Alex, he’s not going to try to put a Van Halen tribute together. He would never. Alex has got more dignity, and it’s not his style. When Dave goes out, he just does his stuff. But Mike and I together, we’re The Other Half. There’s two of us from the band. We’re two out of four. And it’s that vocal sound between Mikey and I, with his background vocals, and my lead vocals, that really has all the identity for the Van Hagar era.

Jason Bonham’s father was Alex’s hero. All he ever wanted was the John Bonham drum sound on ‘Poundcake’ and these other songs. Those songs are pure Led Zeppelin as far as the drumming, and Jason plays this stuff as good as anyone on the planet. Vic Johnson is a genius. He’s the most underrated guitar player in the world, in history. I think we play it as good as anybody except Van Halen…

And look, everyone thinks I changed [Van Halen]. This is really important. I’m glad you put this into my head. Those ballads, Eddie presented them to me. ‘When It’s Love,’ ‘Love Walks In.’ Eddie was so horny to show off his keyboard playing because Roth hated it. And Eddie was a good keyboard player, almost as good as he was on guitar. And when I heard what he was doing, I’m going, ‘Holy shit.’ I got inspired. And we wrote those songs. When he played me ‘When It’s Love,’ the words just started pouring out of me.”

If you were to get Alex on the phone today, what would you say to him?

“I’m going to say what he always said to me. I’m going to say, ‘Alex. We ain’t getting no younger.’ Every time he came to me for a reunion or to get back in the studio after taking a break he’d say, ‘Sam, we ain’t getting no younger.’ So I would tell him that. Then we’d have a big laugh and catch up. I wouldn’t start with business things since they wouldn’t be first on my agenda. I’d want to see how he’s really doing. Hopefully he’s doing well, and then we’d be able to reconnect instantly, like we did for the reunion.

Alex is a really sweet guy. He’s just tough. He’s really hard, man. He’s Dutch, man. You know what I mean, he’s like some old 1700s kind of guy. He’s really a tough, old-school kind of person. He’s closed up, but he has a big, big heart. That’s probably why he’s so closed up.”

The fans really want this tribute show. It’ll be really cathartic, and it’ll be closure.

“I agree. I think it’s necessary.”

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