#like fine sure put them in between or under the trees and canopies or in places where trees cant grow the features mentioned are sustainable

[hurgablurg]

jesus christ that sounds horrible

[chaosheadspace]

Still looking for those food prompts? Playground dads 29 or 30

Hi, thank you for sending in a prompt! I loved revisiting the playground dads. 29 and 23 are: going on a fishing trip and eating the fish from it / making some smore's in front of the bonfire. (betaed by the awesome @ml-nolan!)

It's a clear summer night, the stars blinking in the sky except where the canopy of nearby trees blankets the small, cosy camp site. They're a little ways away from other campers, just enough that they can pretend to be alone. Dream actively refuses to remember what day it is, letting the days blend into each other instead, a kaleidoscope of sun and laughter and grilled food.

Dream used to hate camping, and if he is being honest, there are still large parts of it he detests. But Hob had listened to his every concern and complaint, and then had plied him with solutions to all of them, and Orpheus and Robin had begged for a whole week. So he'd finally given in.

And really, it's not so bad, not when Hob is with him, not when there's the biggest smile on Orpheus’s face every day, not when Robin wakes them up singing. Hob had bought two folding beds for them so he and Dream didn't have to sleep on the floor (number one on Dream's list of why camping is objectively the worst way to spend one's holidays). They brought dozens of small citronella candles with them, currently burning on two trays next to them to keep away the mosquitoes (the ones who dare to come near seem to favour Hob, anyways).

It is late, later than it's probably advisable for them to be up. Orpheus and Robyn are fast asleep on the air mattress they insisted on sleeping on, zipped into their new, matching sleeping bags. They've been asleep for hours, and Dream knows he and Hob will be woken early by one or both of them deflating the mattress by using it as a trampoline. Probably. But he can't bring himself to get up, not when the campfire paints Hob in flickering light, licks up his features until he is nothing but warm beauty.

Hob is currently expertly roasting a marshmallow, some crackers and chocolate waiting next to him. They have eaten three s’mores each already, the inside of Dream’s mouth sticky with sugar and chocolate.

“I’m sure they’d kill us if they knew,” Hob says with a smile, “but we gotta have some things for ourselves, don’t we?”

Dream hums, not lifting his head from Hob’s shoulder. “I know for a fact that you only got out half of it, so there will be some left for them.” Hob is a warm line against his side, and despite the fact that the campsite has perfectly fine showers, Dream has the impression that outdoor life makes Hob smell even better than he normally does.

“That predictable, am I?” Hob chuckles, turning the skewer so the marshmallow doesn’t get burned.

“In that regard, I am afraid you are.” Hob’s cheek under Dream’s lips is stubbly, and smells faintly of sunscreen. “I am glad you brought ample provisions, or we would not have had anything to eat today.” Hob is endeavouring to teach Dream to fish, which has proven to be unfruitful so far. Dream doesn’t complain, because there is little else he would prefer over sitting next to Hob, but his lack of success is getting a little frustrating.

“Hey now, there’s a supermarket down the street,” Hob protests. “Also, I suspect our lack of luck has something to do with two kids splashing about in the very same waters we’re trying to fish.” He takes the marshmallow off the fire and smears it onto a cracker before sandwiching it between chocolate and another cracker. He holds it out to Dream, who shakes his head, shrugs, and eats it in one bite. Then he puts an arm around Dream’s waist, pulls him closer, and kisses him. His lips are chapped and crumbly from the cracker, and the inside of his mouth tastes like chocolate. The soft chill of the night comes to rest on his skin except for where they’re touching, and Dream wishes they could stay here, like this, for eternity.

Then the quiet sound of their kissing is drowned out by shuffling, rustling fabric, and then the sound of a zipper and lastly, Robyn’s voice. “Dad, I have to—hey! Are you eating s’mores without us? Hey!”

Hob lets Dream go with a warm chuckle. “We are. But I think you can have some, too. As a treat. Because we’re on holiday.” He still hasn’t moved his arm on Dream’s waist, and he shuffles closer. “Go wake Orpheus?”

“‘M awake, I’m awake, I’m awake, I’m coming,” Orpheus chants from the tent and, from the sound of it, wrestles with his sleeping bag.

Hob laughs. “I think I'll go and help him,” he says quietly into Dream's ear, “and get the rest of the marshmallows while I'm at it.”

Warmth pools in Dream's chest, watching as Hob goes. He loves him so much.

Then he gestures Robyn over and reaches for the stick Hob put down earlier. “What do you say,” Dream asks, “do you want to try roasting one for yourself?”

[wynnibee]

A Walk in the Park

Hi @starriegalaxy I was your secret skeleton!! I apologize for it being so late, thank you for your patience ❤️ I hope you enjoy a little walk through the park with Eclipse!

Lovingly proofread and edited by @voidedtea

Word Count: ~2700

Oh, how you loved the fall.

The shorter days, the chilly nights — and of course, the beauty of the changing leaves. The bright reds and yellows contrasting sharp against the brilliant blue sky, the leaves dancing against the open air like the flames of a fire. You so loved to listen to their rustling in the autumn breeze, their falling to the ground of a soft whirlwind of color.

You listen to them crunch under your feet – a delightful sound accompanying your stroll through the park. Towering oaks and maples, lining the park’s path like silent guardians, had just begun to show their bare branches in the mid-autumn day. Their trunks' bases were blanketed in once-verdant leaves, all the more swirling down to join them. A few stray ones tumble and crinkle past your feet in the light breeze.

The park is lit by the sun overhead, its creeping across the sky slow as the day nears its end. That sun shines through what leaves still cling to their trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground. You relish in the warmth as you walk out from under them.

Passing into the shadow of that canopy again, a small chill runs up your arms despite your sweater’s warmth. You hold your arms closer to yourself in a hug, hoping to trap the last of what the sun's kiss could provide.

The park was so beautiful this time of year, you were surprised that it was practically empty. Most people didn't bother coming out when later afternoon slipped into evening. You couldn't complain though – you preferred to have a little alone time with your companion anyways.

Turning around, you smile at Eclipse, watching as he glances around the whole park. His gaze flits between the sky as a couple of crows pass overhead, to the rustle of leaves in their trees, to the ground where a squirrel scurries about before darting up a one such tree. He glances at all the leaves piled up on the ground, his head flicking towards every bit of movement or sound. Eclipse's normally wide smile looks unsteady, and his eyes are large as he takes in his surroundings.

You frown a little. You can't help but think that he looks nervous – or at least unsure. Maybe inviting him out was a bad idea? He mentioned a while ago that he'd never been outside before…

“Clippy?” you ask, tentative. Slowly, you make your way back towards him, having put a fair amount of distance between you both where he'd gotten distracted and fell behind you.

It takes Eclipse a few seconds to notice your approach. He seems reluctant to look down at you, struggling to tear his gaze away from the trees above. When his eyes do meet yours, though, he smiles in that soft, gentle way that always makes your heart melt.

“Yes, sweetness?” the large bot says in an even tone. His eyes are full of affection and you can't help the flush of your cheeks despite your concern. You take his long hands in your own, rubbing your thumbs along his palms.

“Are you okay? Is this too much?“ You begin to ramble, “I'm sorry for overwhelming you, I should've thought about that before I brought you out here- oh, if you want to go home we can, it's okay! I'm sure we can figure something else to do there, maybe watch a movie? Whatever you wanna do, it's fine with me, I just don't want you to be uncomfortable- what?”

You cut yourself off as Eclipse chuckles at you, his eyes alight with nothing but mirthful fondness. His hands had shifted to hold yours more securely during your ramble, and as you tilt your head back to look at him, his smile widens.

“I'm not uncomfortable at all, Angel-eyes. It's just a lot to take in all at once– there's so much movement and sound and color.” He pauses to look up at the trees again, before glancing back down at you. “You'd think after all that time in the daycare I would be used to all of...this.”

Eclipse gestures to your surroundings with one hand. You glance around again, suddenly aware of the richness to it all that had faded into the back of your mind.

“Is that a bad thing?“ you say carefully. You watch as Eclipse reaches up to snatch a leaf out of the air – a lovely bright red maple – before gently twisting and turning it in his hand. The Daycare Attendant admires the leaf, poring over every detail hidden in its red surface.

“Not at all, mousecake. In fact, I've never been so...awestruck by something like this before – with one exception.” His eyes lock with yours and you flush. “The colors are so beautiful. The reds and oranges and yellows and browns. It's a constant, never-ending rush of warmth. It's fascinating that the leaves used to be so green, but now they've changed with the autumn season. I don't think I've ever actually seen the changing of the seasons in anything but pictures.”

Eclipse gently tucks the maple behind your ear and into your hair, fussing with it slightly to keep it there. He lifts your hand that he's still holding in the air, slowly twirling you so that your back is pressed against his chassis. The puffy sleeves of his outfit crinkle against your sweater as his arms wrap around you. You feel his smile press into the top of your head.

“Just take a moment to close your eyes and listen,” he whispers against your hair. Sighing, you oblige and lean back into him. “What do you hear, love?”

You turn your focus to your surroundings once more, furrowing your brow slightly as you do. 

You can hear the trees rustling overhead. You hear crows cawing off to your left, leaves blowing across the ground to your right. The particular leaf tucked into your hair rattles slightly. Underneath it all, you can even hear the quiet tick, tick, tick of Eclipse's inner workings.

“I can hear...the crows, and the wind, and the leaves. I see what you mean about it all moving,” you smile. “I can hear you, too. I think that's my favorite sound of all.”

Eclipse laughs, the noise full of affection. His arms tighten around you, and you lean back further into them. “You can hear me, huh?”

“I can hear the ticking in your chassis, the whirring of your joints as you move,“ you whisper to him, “It's a steady rhythm, a tick tick tick, over and over. It sounds like a heartbeat. It's...comforting.“

The large robot hums behind you, the sound rumbling against your back. You respond in kind – as best you can, at least. You really could get lost in the ensuing harmony, a song only you and Eclipse can hear.

“You promise you're not uncomfortable, amor? We can leave if you want,” you say with what you hope is reassurance. The last thing you want is for Eclipse to think you're upset or disappointed. Your eyes are still closed while your head rests against his chassis.

“I promise,” he says, “I enjoy being out here and spending my time with you.“

”Alright, if you change your mind, just let me know.”

A chilly breeze whispers through the leaves with the promise of a cold night. You shiver, shifting in Eclipse's arms to rub your hands up and down your sweater sleeves, trying to chase away the goosebumps rising on your skin.

Opening your eyes at last, you look around the park once more from where you stand. The sun has drooped towards the horizon, reaching for its edge with flared coronal strands. The few clouds drifting above remind you of an artist's canvas, all the different textures and colors flowing away from the sinking sun like paint off a brush.

Golden rays of light stretch through the branches of the trees, illuminating the dull concrete of the path with stepping stones of liquid gold. The day was nearing its close, leaving you with only a couple hours before the night took over. You'd have to head home soon.

But — you didn’t want to leave just yet.

Turning round, you press your chest against Eclipse, tilt your head back to look him in the face. Your arms come to wrap around his waist, and his own arms adjust to settle around you from where they'd shifted when you turned.

Your cheeks flush when his eyes soften at you, adding to the redness on your face where the cold had begun to nip at your nose. Your eyes light up as an idea strikes. Your arms tighten around Eclipse as you begin to sway slow. He watches you curiously; you can feel his eyes dart around your face, a non-existent weight smoothing over your skin. You bat your lashes at your partner as you continue to sway, slowly pulling him into the movement with you.

It only takes a minute more before he catches on, an almost overjoyed smile stretching across his faceplate as he shifts his body to take one of your hands in his and places the other gently on your side. You attempt to put your arm on his shoulder, though your fingertips just barely reach below his ruffles. A giggle escapes you at the sheer height of him.

Gently, he pulls you into the more steady rhythm of an easy two-step dance.

You swing and sway across the path, crunching and rustling leaves underfoot with every step. The animatronic's eyes never leave yours, something lovestruck adorning his face. You can only look back, admiring the way his rays catch the slowly fading afternoon light, framing his crescent face in a brilliant halo of gold fire. The bell at the end of his hat chimes with every motion.

Suddenly, he sends you out in a quick spin, holding your hand above your head as you twirl. You laugh, happily leaning into the gesture before Eclipse pulls you back to him. His laughter joins yours as you're lifted to meet his eyes, holds you secure as he spins aimlessly, bouncing and swinging you around with exaggerated steps.

Your laughter only grows, the sound almost giddy to your ears. You hold tight onto the animatronic, his eyes crinkled with delight and shoulders shaking with the force of his own laughter.

“Eclipse!” you barely get his name out through your giggles, the Daycare Attendant coming to a stop. You both stand there, under trees that seem to share your mirth, the leaves trembling in their own raucous applause.

Eclipse holds you while your laughter dies down. You take a few deep breaths, the crisp air filling your lungs. As you steady yourself, you look over to the grassy area in the middle of the park. The leaves from the path have been raked around that spot, and right in the center of the grass is a massive pile of them.

You feel your whole body swell with excitement. A grin splits your face, "Set me down, set me down! I wanna show you something."

Eclipse acquiesces without hesitation, and you reach to grab his hand.

Lacing your fingers together, you move to pull the large robot with you, but pause when you feel resistance. You look back to see Eclipse watching you with suspicion.

“What?” you say with what you hope is innocence. 

Eclipse's eyes narrow further.

“You're plotting something, sweetness. I can see it in your eyes.”

You let go of his hands to clasp your own together, holding them down by your hip as you bat your eyes at him with a smile. A picture of perfectly innocuous intent if you’ve ever seen one.

“Whaaaat? Me? Plot something? Cari��o, I would never,” you say with mock, exaggerated offense, mischief blooming across your face. “You'll like this. I promise.”

Extending your hand towards the Daycare Attendant, your expression shifts into a smile more genuine. He seems to consider it, and for a brief moment you worry he might refuse. Then, Eclipse extends his hand, lacing his long fingers with yours, and returns your smile with his own.

Giggling, you begin to tug him towards the leaf pile, more of them crunching underfoot. As you go, your pace grows until Eclipse's footsteps are thudding behind to match your own. You let go of Eclipse's hand, a surprised noise leaving the Attendant as you run ahead.

You sprint right towards that leaf pile — before diving in. The leaves scatter with a rush, tumbling away in a cascading ripple-wave. After a moment to catch your breath, you heft yourself from the pile, hair and sweater soaked in crumpled leaves like autumnal confetti. 

It's a miracle the leaf Eclipse gave you is still in your hair.

The approaching intermingle of heavy footsteps and jingle of bells is barely any warning for Eclipse's ensuing leap into the pile to join you – a motion that drowns you in leaves once more. Scattered as it is, the remaining pile does little to cushion Eclipse's landing, your partner hitting the ground with a resounding thud. The air around you both fills with your collective laughter, yours doubling as he digs you out of the leaves.

Eclipse does manage to uncover you, both of you absolutely beside yourselves with mirth. You clutch at your sides as you continue to giggle, heaving yourself up to grab a handful of those leaves. Tossing them in the air, you look down at Eclipse to where he sits on the ground, the poor Attendant half-buried in leaves himself. They’re mostly caught on his rays, one leaf awkwardly impaled on the point of his left topmost one.

As the leaves you threw begin to rain down, Eclipse grabs your hand and pulls you back to the ground, holding you close. You’re gently pulled into his lap and as you wrap your arms around his neck, he falls backwards into the leaves, taking you with. You can’t help but giggle as you smile down at him from where you lay on his chassis, reaching up to pull the leaf off of his ray.

By now, the sun has finally dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in a brilliant array of golds, pinks, and deep purples. Even the trees are soon set alight with that same flurry of colors. The shadows on the ground grow harsh, meanwhile, slicing through what warmth remains.

The golden hour had begun, bathing you and your beloved robot in the last hurrah of light before the sun bid its farewells.

You watch as Eclipse drinks in the view – his eyes dart and skip across the edges of forming shadows, linger in and upon that golden light.

At last, however, they drift back to settle on you.

A flush crosses your face in spite of you as his gaze lingers. You realize, perhaps somewhat belatedly, that the light was wreathing you too. You realize that, perhaps, he's admiring you.

“You really are something else, you know that, love?” Eclipse whispers, as though raising his voice any further would scare away this settling peace.

Your eyes soften. You reach a hand up to hold the side of his faceplate, your thumb stroking over the swirl of his cheek. “Am I now? I could say the same about you, amor.”

He sighs underneath you, his chassis heaving in mimicry of the motion. You rest your head on your hand, simply watching him as he lays under you. His eyes meet yours again, crinkle with a soft smile. Eclipse raises slightly, lifting his hand to cradle the back of your head. His long fingers thread through your hair, soon pulling you gentle towards his face. You give no resistance, leaning down to bunt your forehead against his, both of you basking in the warmth of each other's affection.

“So,” you eventually begin, breaking the silence between you, “how do you feel about fall, Clippy? Did it measure up to the pictures in your books?”

The robot chuckles at you, a blush covering his own face as he responds, “I think it might just be my favorite season, sweetness.”

Oh, how you loved the fall.

[all54321]

The Price of Being the Oldest Sibling

[AO3]

Back to the whumptober grind. Gonna be posting these a lot the next few days.

Summary: Grian acts as a diversion to get hybrid hunters to chase him and not his siblings. Nothing matters besides keeping his siblings safe, not even…

Day 24: Hunted Down

—————

Grian puts a hand on Jimmy and Pearl’s shoulder, giving them a stern look, “I’ll be fine, I can handle myself. It’ll be easier on my own.”

“But-“ Jimmy goes to protest, but stops when Grian shakes his head.

“Jimmy, please, as your older brother it’s my responsibility to protect you.”

Pearl shakes her head this time, “It’s to help us survive, not to leave us.”

Grian huffs, “If they catch up to us there’s no guarantee we all escape. Me leading them away, that’s helping you survive. I’ll distract them enough for you to get away and then I’ll meet up with you once I ditch them.” He stares at them with narrowed eyes, refusing to back down. Especially not when every second passing means that they are getting closer.

Pearl and Jimmy share a glance before sagging in defeat. Pearl pulls Grian into a tight hug, Jimmy joining a moment later. He returns it, holding them tightly.

It feels like a goodbye.

Grian doesn’t let the hug last long, the urgency of the matter making him hurry. He gives his siblings one final nod before turning and going back where they came from.

His wings itch to spread out and take him up and far away from here, but the canopy is too thick. Grian will only be able to run when he finds the hunters.

That’s fine, he can do that.

That’s fine, he can climb.

That’s fine, the forest is his turf.

That’s fine… isn’t it?

Grian gets pulled from his thoughts by rather loud voices. He stiffens and hides behind a tree trunk, listening for a bit. Yup, definitely them. He fights every instinct in his body and spreads out his wings.

He circles around where he hears their voices, trying to find them. He hears a sudden exclamation and knows they saw him. Grian pulls his wings tight to his body and runs. He weaves between trees and ducks under branches.

Grian wants to run at full speed, but he can’t. He needs to keep them on his tail until they’re far away from Pearl and Jimmy. Then he can as fast as he can. For now, he keeps running, making sure they’re still in earshot.

He runs, and runs, and runs, and runs. He doesn’t know how long he’s been running for, it feels like an eternity. His lungs would probably be burning if he was a human, but he’s an avian, his lungs are able to take in way more air than a human can ever dream of. So the hunters should be slowing down soon.

Grian lets out a shrill trill when an arrow whizzes by his head and lands in a nearby tree with a loud thunk! He veers to the right, away from the arrow, heart-rate picking up.

He realizes too late that they could have easily hit him.

He realizes too late that missing was their intention.

He realizes too late that he’s running into a trap.

Grian is picking up speed now, but his light steps and fast pace aren’t enough to save him. His foot connects with the ground, and then he’s suspended in the air. He lets out a loud squawk in surprise and immediately begins struggling.

He tries to tear are the net with his talons, but it’s made of something too sturdy to claw through easily. He whines high in his throat as the net digs into his wings where they’re pressed up against it.

Grian is on his back, and he tries to fix that, but he can’t right himself. One of his legs had slipped through the gaps and the other is raised awkwardly above him, talons gripping the net. He can’t move either enough to help him.

He whines again, high-pitched and long, a desperate call for help, for his flock, for anyone.

Chuckling voices approach Grian and he just curls up, fighting back tears. He knows what happens to captured avians. He knows what they want with him.

He hopes they kill him first so that he doesn’t feel the pain.

Grian ducks his head to avoid looking at them when they arrive, all fight drained out from him the moment he got pathetically trapped in this net. An avian shouldn’t be trapped dangling from anything, yet here he is. Pathetic.

A hand grabs him by the hair and yanks his head back, making Grian cry out. He’s forced to make eye contact with the hunters, there’s only three of them, all looking some form of tired. It doesn’t even give him joy like it normally would. He just feels despair.

One of them frowns, glancing worriedly at the one still holding Grian by his hair, who he presumes is the captain, “Are you sure that it’s enough?”

The other one catches on, frowning as well, “Yeah, aren’t they looking for a… y’know.”

The leader just scoffs, “Avians are funky creatures, you don’t know what they’re like unless you cut them open.”

Grian flinches at the words, but the motion only causes another painful tug to his hair, making him yelp again. Pathetic.

“So,” the first one begins cautiously, “you think they’d want this one?”

The guy shrugs, finally letting go of Grian’s hair, letting him curl into a ball again. “Don’t know, we’ll just drop it off and they’ll let us know. They’re going to want us to find other hybrids too, so it’s not like this one will go to waste anyways.”

Grian digs his taloned fingernails into his arms, trying not to whimper, of course they want to experiment on him. Of course they’re going to torture him. Even when his mind swirling in misery, one positive thought slips through the rest, at least they won’t take his wings.

He’s so lost in his mind that he doesn’t realize the hunters did something to him until his vision starts darkening around the edges. Only a few seconds later the darkness completely claims Grian and he falls unconscious.

When Grian blinks his eyes open again, he’s laying in a clearing, trees not to far away. He feels sore all over his body, but he still pushes himself up, fight or flight response roaring in his veins. Everything feels wrong.

The lack of breeze is his first clue, the rough dirt he feels when he digs his claws into the ground is another, the light is off, his wings feel weird, something is yelling in his head that everything is wrong.

Grian turns around and- oh.

He’s facing a wall, gray and metal, reaching way above him. The ceiling is almost like a sky, but it’s too off.

He shakily gets to his feet, stumbling towards the forest, his mind yelling that it’s safe in there. Grian doesn’t get more then a few steps inside before realizing how wrong that is. The scent of this place is wrong on so may levels. The trees and grass may technically be real, but they reek with a fakeness that makes Grian gag.

He falls to the ground again, forcing himself not to cry. He wraps his wings around his body to shelter himself, and he lets out a sob at the sight. They were of course a mess from the net, but that’s not what catches his eyes. The primary feathers were all sliced through, neat and precise.

He’s grounded.

Grian curls up tighter, not hiding his sobs now. He’s a downed bird now. Flightless birds don’t survive.

Even if he escapes now, without flight there’s no hope for him.

[drhu0806]

31 – “It’s not your fault.”

Fandom: Baldur’s Gate 3 (fanfiction) Characters: Halsin, Tav/custom player character Rating: T Warnings: depictions of death, depictions of grief

Halsin finds her lounging on a fallen log by herself, her feet swinging off the edge as she gently sways back and forth to a silent melody only she can hear, pensively staring at nothing in particular. The crunch of leaves beneath his feet betray his presence, and Kainé glances up, giving him a wave.

“Hi, Halsin. Out for a walk?”

“In a way. I was looking for you in particular, actually.”

“Oh, did you need something?”

“Am I not allowed to simply enjoy your company?” he chuckles. “Though, if you would rather I leave you alone…”

“No, it’s fine.” She pats the space next to her, and he happily takes a seat. For a while, they gladly sit in silence, listening to the peaceful sounds of nature around them. The archdruid would normally love enjoy such a meditative atmosphere, but this time he’s come with a mission.

“What are you going to do now, Kainé?” he asks. “Your grandmother has been avenged. The people out here are safe from the clutches of the Shadow Druids. What will you do next?”

“Well, we still have an elder brain to contend with…”

“You know what I mean.”

She falls silent. It’s so quiet he can almost hear her thinking, contemplating a future she never had the foresight to consider until recently. Kainé, in all honesty, doesn’t know how to answer, so she says the only thing she can.

“I think… I think I’m going to miss my family.”

When Halsin looks at her, he sees the years of responsibility peeled away. Countless days of telling herself that she’ll be fine, of silently bearing a burden she doesn’t think she has the strength to carry, but she does so nonetheless because she has to. He sees the tired, bittersweet melancholy she’s had to put away for so long finally revealed.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what do you miss about them?”

“My mother used to be a songstress. She had the most beautiful voice; she used to sing my sister and me to sleep.”

“Ah, I see where you get it from.”

“Ha! Flatterer. My father… Well, it’s been so long I’m beginning to wonder if I’m forgetting his face. But… I can kind of remember how he always did his best to make me laugh. He used to do this—there was this silly little magic trick he would do, usually pulling out some piece of candy from nowhere or something like that. I don’t know, it’s such a small thing, but I remember it. And I wish… I wish he could have stayed alive longer to see me grow up.

“And Grandma, oh, there are so many things. She was so scary, but in a good way, you know? She made the best noodle soup, and I swear she knew every plant and animal under the sun.” Kainé looks up at the canopy that hangs above, searching for the sunlight that falls between the gaps. Her grandmother said that when she passed, she would become part of the wind, part of the trees, part of the very ground she stepped on. If Kainé listened hard enough, could she hear her voice whispering on the breeze? Could she find her smile among the gnarled bark of the trees? Could she still find traces of all of them, if she just looked hard enough?

“I wish they were still here, Halsin. I really do.”

A slightly heavier wistfulness creeps into her tone as she rises; if she’s aware of it, she’s pretending not to as she stretches out her arms.

“Well, their bones are nothing but dust resting beneath the trees now. No point in dwelling on it more than I need to.”

Halsin rises with her, but instead stands in front of her, making sure they’re face to face. She looks up at him, confused but still smiling. But it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and he spots it, the tiniest stain against the resigned acceptance: guilt.

It’s a little startling, the way he can see his reflection in her. It’s strange to see it so much clearly when he’s looking at her, and he begins to realize perhaps their similarities extend far beyond a love of the natural world. So he repeats back to her the words she said to him, the ones he so desperately needed to hear.

“This may not be my place to say, so forgive me if I’m a bit out of line, but… Kainé, you are aware that what happened with your mother and your grandmother, it’s not your fault.”

She gives him an odd look. “Huh? Yes, of course I know that.”

“No, truly. You aren’t at fault for either of those incidents.”

She tries to laugh it off again, making a move to walk around him, but Halsin holds fast, blocking her. He carefully takes her shoulders so that they can see each other, so that she can see him.

“Kainé. It’s not your fault. None of it ever was.”

She tries to smile, tries to act confused, but it slips. She almost squirms, uncomfortable with the earnest, serious look Halsin gives her. This time, she sees the reflection.

It comes, softly but surely. Her vision blurs as her eyes grow misty; she tries to blink them away, tries to swallow all of it away, but it’s all in vain. Eventually she just lets them come, covering her mouth as she stares at the ground.

She sees her mother, bloody and broken in her lap, her small hands stained with her blood. She sees her grandmother’s corpse covered in a white sheet, having returned too late to say goodbye.

It’s not your fault.

She leans forward even without Halsin’s input, resting her forehead against him. Without hesitation he wraps his arms around her. She can take all the time she needs.

[sotvrna]

here, in the breeze

[you can read it on ao3]

The thing about dying and being brought back—and Laudna considers herself something of an expert at this point—is how it will mess up your idea of time. Not just the way you perceive it, but how you logic its passage. Being stuck in a place, if it can be called that, where time takes no form of future or present, but past eternal coiling with itself, then being thrust back out to the now; the linearity of time feels dreamy for a while, and the ‘how much did I lose’ question only truly sets in after. They say she lost a few days. It didn’t feel like that. It didn’t feel like anything; just the there, and now here. She loses a couple more days after that, like a part of her stayed behind and she might wake up encased in bark once again at any moment. They lay low, they grieve, she’s not all there but certain moments bring reality into sharpness: the Sun Tree; a tryst under lantern-light; Eshteross, dead. Slowly they become more frequent than not, and she feels more grounded in the now than the there, until she can for the most part have her subconscious agree that here is reality.

Three days after they returned to Jrusar she is mostly back to her old self, even if fear lingers. Their group is restless from the time spent at the inn, plans upon plans but no concrete path to follow, she checks the orb connected to the tracking ring almost compulsively, looking for any sign that Thull is near. Now they—Imogen and her—are on their way to Zhudanna’s place, taking the opportunity of the others running an errand at the Krook House early in the afternoon to check in with her.

The sight of the house in the Windowed Wall brings clarity to Laudna, opening a flood of fond memories of her time with Imogen before Bells Hells.

Zhudanna opens the door with an “Oh, hello dearies,” and motions for them to come inside.

“Hi Zhudanna,” Imogen replies, affection tingeing her tone.

The inside looks exactly how they left it, from the pottery utensils to the ever growing pile of knitted articles. “How have you been?” Laudna asks.

“Just fine, dear.” Zhudanna ushers them to the small kitchen. “Come, I’ll put on some tea for you.”

It isn’t long until they’re seated by the window, tea in hand, Imogen regaling a half-attentive Zhudanna with the milder stories from their travels, Laudna piping in with occasional commentary. It’s all so familiar. Comfortable. She realises she spends a lot of that time staring at Imogen, just watching her speak and gesticulate. They’ve been preoccupied, especially her, but since Whitestone and the night they spent there, whenever Laudna feels present she finds herself looking to Imogen, like an anchor, tethering her—confusing her thoughts but at least she knows they’re real, and they’re hers.

—

It was strange, being under the Sun Tree. Despite its canopy rising so high above them, Laudna felt like she was within the tree somehow, its presence all-encompassing. It was not a bad feeling; though she wasn’t sure it was all good either; conflicting emotions swirled within, some new, some old and memory-laden. Before it could fully overwhelm her she turned to the side, where she was accommodated next to Imogen—laying on her back looking up the same way Laudna was a moment ago, her hair haloed by the dim light, eyes open and attentive to the branches above. Laudna squeezed delicately, their hands entwined in the vacant space between their sleeping rolls. Imogen looked at her inquisitively, but unfocused, like she was just brought out of a reverie.

“Can’t sleep either, darling?” Laudna asked, voice low and throaty due to the extended silence.

Imogen hummed and adjusted her position so she was facing Laudna. “Too much to think about,” she whispered.

Laudna glanced over her shoulder at the rest of her friends, all apparently sound asleep—except FCG who stood stock still, gaze focused on some far off point. “Not a problem for the others it seems,” she said, a light smile on her lips.

“And you?” Imogen mirrored her gesture from earlier and squeezed her hand affectionately. “You oughta be resting after the day you had.”

“I feel like I just had the longest sleep. Tired still, but too overslept to retire.” True, though she kept from Imogen how scattered she felt, how dislocated; she had worried her enough for one day.

Imogen stared at her, scrutinizing. The longer she lingered the more butterflies Laudna got, being at the centre of Imogen’s attention always bringing her a thrill no matter how long they had been together. Then the spectre of an idea passed through Imogen’s face and her expression turned conspiratorial. She raised her eyes to look over Laudna towards the others, and then back to her. “C’mon,” she said and began to rise, still holding onto her hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Now?” Laudna asked, louder, but still allowed herself to be pulled up to her feet.

“Shh,” Imogen motioned for her to keep it low, cracking a grin, and continued whispering. “Yeah, aren’t you curious about the town?”

Laudna glanced back at the Sun Tree. “I suppose...” She lurched slightly as her hand was pulled on. “What—”

Imogen urged her along and Laudna fell in step with her. They stumbled on each other in the rush, giggling hushedly as they made their way down the raised area the Tree grows from and out towards the cobbled streets of central Whitestone. Imogen looked around, picked a direction, and led them deeper into a wider way where many people were milling and walking about in those early hours of the night.

For a while they walked in silence, watching the folk heading to their homes or a tavern after a day’s work. Laudna felt Imogen’s eyes on her every so often but the whole experience was akin to a vision, memory overlapping with reality in a confusing display. They passed through spots she remembered from childhood, so different and exactly the same simultaneously, as Laudna did her best to provide some commentary.

“It really is good to have you back,” Imogen said after some time—she lost track of it—, apropos of nothing, and immediately Laudna was brought back to the moment.

There was something different about Imogen since Laudna’s resurrection. A linger to her looks, a leaning towards her when they were talking, she hadn’t let go of her hand yet. For the first time since they first met, Laudna felt well and truly awkward around her. “Y— It’s good to be back,” she said, echoing a conversation they already had. “Thanks to you, of course.”

“Not me,” Imogen said, pensive. “Without the others I— I don’t know what I would’ve done to bring you back Laudna.” She stopped their walk with a hand on Laudna’s arm, looked into her eyes with intense purpose. “I just know I would’ve tried. Done anything.”

They had stopped in a square, and lanterns illuminated them, the yellow-orange light giving Imogen’s lavender tresses a striking colouration. Laudna smiled, and hoped her eyes conveyed the warmth in her heart. “I believe you,” she said, resting her palm over the hand on her arm. “But I’m here now,” and in that moment, she really was, fully.

“Yes, you are.”

“I also wanted to thank you for—,” Laudna bit her lip. “I heard you, when I was... gone. The things you said... Thank you.”

“Oh. Right. Well, I meant it you know?” She couldn’t see Imogen flushing but could hear it in her voice.

“And the same goes for you,” Laudna said in earnest. “You know I love you too Imogen,” and there she went again—saying those words to her was so easy, so natural, part of her wished they were harder to speak, more momentous, but every time they just came out and like the air around them were so true and so intrinsic that they just passed as a breeze between them. “And I’m with you. Through this Ruidus shit, and everything else that may come.”

Imogen gave her a meaningful look, a smile—but when Laudna really focused on it there was some melancholy about it. She heard Imogen sniff before she was engulfed in a hug, the second that day, so tight with emotion she felt like crying herself. When they pulled back they lingered in each other’s spaces. Imogen stared deeply, and from that close all Laudna could focus on were her eyes, beautiful and flicking across her face, reading her, glancing down at her mouth for but a breath. Then she leaned up and pressed her lips to Laudna’s, for less than a second, a ghost of a kiss, fleeting and eternally soft. Before she quite registered it the moment passed, Imogen let out a strangled laugh, said “We should get back before FCG worries,” and that was it. They went back to the Tree, Imogen had portent-full dreams and things went downhill from there.

—

“Guess she was tired, heh,” Imogen’s voice brings Laudna out of her thoughts, and she notices Zhudanna is asleep on her rocking chair, head bent forward, half-knitted sock on her lap.

Still a bit disconcerted from her thoughts, Laudna barely hums in acknowledgement.

Imogen furrows her eyebrows, and Laudna winces inwardly. Before she can say something more eloquent, Imogen gets up and slowly, deliberately, walks away, heading to the room they shared—share? It feels like a lifetime since they did.

After a moment of hesitation, Laudna follows. She finds Imogen standing by their bed, back to her, a hand fidgeting with the cover, and the afternoon sunlight streaming from the one window basking her in glow. Laudna may not need breath but she finds her airway constricted just the same. They haven’t spent any time alone together since Whitestone, and words fail her now. Laudna props herself against the door, closing it with a click to announce her presence.

“It’s good to be back,” Imogen begins, looking partway over her shoulder. “Even if the circumstances are not— not great.” Her expression darkens momentarily but she turns to Laudna with a smile, genuine if fragile. “I missed it. Jrusar.”

Laudna returns the smile and positions herself by the window, looking out into the spires then back to her. “Yes, I’ve grown quite fond of this city. Feels like home doesn’t it?”

“It does.” Imogen pauses. “For now, at least.”

“For now,” Laudna agrees. Thinking about the future brings a knot to her stomach. After they get out of this mess with the Solstice and Otohan, after they figure out Imogen’s magic and family, she will need to move on. She doesn’t want Imogen to be stuck forever with someone like her. Imogen deserves a true home, peace, and while Laudna will always be close to protect her, she doesn’t want her to be held back by her attachment to her. Images of Imogen’s recent behaviour come to the forefront of her mind, and the kiss—the kiss!—, the warmth they bring swirl with the cold in her guts into a confusing mix of emotions. “I...” she pauses, and Imogen tilts her head slightly, signalling she’s paying attention, encouraging her to go on. “I care so much about you,” she begins, choosing her words carefully. “I want you to be happy, more than anything.” Imogen breaks into a sweet smile, but there’s nervousness to her eyes, sensing the shift to a more serious tone. “Which is why I need you to know, I can’t give you everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I can’t be what you want me to be.”

“What are you sayin’, Laudna?” She’s fully frowning now, her voice wavering.

“I might be misreading the situation,” Laudna admits, feeling dread at just that possibility, yet she continues. “But I noticed— You— Uh, how do I say this...” She started pulling at her hair nervously. “You kissed me.”

“I did...” Imogen’s cheeks tinge, even through her increasingly worried countenance.

“And maybe you meant it as a friendly kiss I don’t know,” she stumbles through the words quickly. “But if you didn’t... Well, look at me Imogen. I’m not a whole thing, you deserve better. You deserve someone alive and warm and—”

She was so focused on her nervous tick she didn’t notice Imogen approaching her, and she now stills Laudna’s hair-pulling with a hand on her own. “Stop,” Imogen says, firm yet careful. “You’re not a thing, Laudna.” She sighs deeply, and it comes out quavering. “I guess we’re doing this now, huh?” She brings their entwined hands down to hang linked between them, and Imogen’s is shaking. “You are alive. You know how I know? Because you died, and we brought you back, and I’ve seen what dead looks like and I’ve never been more sure you’re alive. And you’re beautiful. And I—,” her voice cuts off and Laudna hears the next words inside her mind, clear and purposeful. ‘I am so in love with you.’

Laudna bites her lip, looking away. The confusion is back—part of her elated, fighting with the part of her that was afraid of this. “What if there’s someone else out there, someone more like you, and you miss them because you were so focused on me?”

“Look at me.”

Laudna raises her eyes and is stunned; she’s never seen Imogen look so fragile, so near brokenness. There are so many emotions bursting through those eyes she couldn’t even begin to catalogue them.

‘I don’t care about anyone else. I’ve made my choice.’

She realises then how much this is hurting Imogen. Her doubts, her resistance to... them; it’s breaking her heart in exactly the way she wanted to prevent. She also realises how much she wants to give in. “I don’t know if I am able to be everything you want.” She thinks she can see Imogen’s heart shatter at the words. “But,” she adds, “what I can tell for certain is that I didn’t know love like this until I met you. And...” She finishes by sending the thought to Imogen, willing all she’s kept inside into it, hoping she can feel it just as much as she can hear it. ‘I do, really, utterly, love you as well.’ This one felt like something new. Weighted.

Imogen breaks into a wobbly smile, sniffs. ‘I don’t want anything more than you can give me.’ She brings Laudna’s hand to her lips, kissing it soothingly.

‘Then may I kiss you?’ Laudna battles the shyness at the request, her inexperience making her completely unsure if this is even the right moment.

Her anxieties are assuaged when Imogen gives her the brightest grin. ‘You may,’ the thought comes laced in good humour and endearment.

It’s awkward at first. They’ve been friends and travelling together for so long, but approaching her like this is something else entirely. Laudna raises her hand to Imogen’s cheek, brushing over her freckles reverently. When they lock eyes Laudna learns how simple this is; they’re magnetic, all she has to do is not fight against it. Then she’s kissing her, a simple touch like their first one. Their breaths mingle, Laudna hesitates, and Imogen leans in. And she’s kissing her again, and again, and again, until they find each other’s rhythm. She can feel Imogen’s smile grow and they break away. Imogen rests her head on Laudna’s shoulder, laughing airily. “Sorry, just— I’m happy. Really happy.”

Laudna allows it to wash over her, grinning in response. “Alright. Good. Good.” And it is. Did she always have the power to make Imogen smile like this, and just didn’t know? She embraces her, and they stay like that for a while.

When they return to the others Laudna feels weightless, like a light breeze is carrying her, Imogen’s hand in hers an anchor.

[xjoonchildx]

snapshot | jhs x reader

summary: after a day at the beach, hoseok has some surprises in store for his longtime love

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: fluff, smut, fluff OH MY GOD SO MUCH FLUFF y'all i apologize

word count: 4.7K

notes: this fic is a commission fic for the lovely @wwilloww as part of the @armyadvocates fundraising initiative to stop hate crimes against AAPI. miss willow asked for an old house, candles and soft smut as well as a mystery box. i did my best to deliver on all counts because willow is amazing and deserves all good things.

thanks go to @hobi-gif @ladyartemesia and @btsarmy9593 for beta reading parts of this story, thanks so much for keeping me on track ladies! a very special shoutout to @sahmfanficbts who helped me come up with a very *key* part of this plot.

warnings: no one dies? no one is in danger of dying? who am i? standard smut, unprotected sex. liberal sunscreen use. low air quality due to paint fumes and sawdust. references to yoongi, who we can assume is cranky offscreen, references to @untaemedqueen first suggestion of what was in the box.

Warm.

Hoseok is so warm right now, inside and out. He stretches his long body out on the length of his beach lounger, enjoying the feeling of the sun beating down on his skin. His buzz is mellow and pleasant. He lets his eyes drift shut, lulled into a lazy calm by the sounds he can hear all around him.

The steady lap of the waves against the shore. Kids laughing as they run around on the sand. Off in the distance, a bluetooth speaker thumps out a song that’s too far away for him to recognize. And after a few minutes, another sound.

Your bright laughter, carried to him on the breeze.

God, he loves that sound.

“You are such a lightweight,” you tease. Hoseok can hear the smile in your voice. “Two beers and you pass out on me.”

He cracks one eye open to find you standing beside his lounger. The early evening sunlight streams through the strands of your dark hair and warms your bronzed skin, bathing you in a kind of golden halo. He gazes up at you, languid and content.

“I’m not passed out,” he argues with a slow grin. “I’m relaxing. Come relax with me.”

Hoseok doesn’t give you a chance to accept his offer, leaning up to grab your hand and pull you down into the narrow space beside him. You laugh when he wraps his arms and legs around you like a starfish, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“I’m just enjoying the perfect day,” he murmurs, nosing at the back of your ear, “With my perfect girl.”

“Flatterer.”

Hoseok can’t see you rolling your eyes, but he knows you’re doing it anyway. Just like he can’t see the way you flush and he knows you’re doing that, too.

“We should eat,” you say after a while, shivering when he strokes the pads of his fingers up the soft skin of one bare leg. “Grab something before we have to take the bikes back.”

Hoseok hums under his breath as he slides his palm up the curve of your thigh, boldly searching for trouble under the hem of your sundress. You bat his hand away and he laughs, hugging you tighter.

“Alright,” he agrees in a whisper, ghosting his lips down the nape of your neck. You jolt in his arms when he sinks his teeth into the curve of your shoulder, nipping playfully. “Just a quick bite.”

There’s not much difference between a sundress and a négligée is there?

Certainly not from where Hoseok is sitting, anyway.

He studies you as he rides close behind, watching the way your hair whips in the breeze as you pedal. One delicate sundress strap slips down your sun-warmed shoulder, exposing just a bit more of your back. Then the wind grabs a hold of your sheer skirt, lifting it just long enough for Hoseok to get a glimpse of the pretty white panties underneath.

God, he loves those panties.

Could stare at them all day, really.

But instead he forces himself to pedal faster and take the lead, grinning when you take note of his advance and glare. It’s for the best because while you think this is just some meandering evening ride, he’s the only one who knows where you’re really headed. For the best because if he falls off his bike and breaks his face because he’s too busy staring at your ass, the entire night will be ruined before it has the chance to start.

It’s quiet on this street just a few blocks from the shore.

Dolmeori Beach is rockier, more wooded than the beaches preferred by most tourists and that’s always suited Hoseok just fine. When he was a kid, he’d steal away when the weather was warm and hop the train here from Gwangju any chance he got.

It’s always felt like his place, his personal piece of sea and sand.

Pine trees loom high over the pavement, canopies so dense they block out much of the waning sunlight streaming down from above. The shade beneath the leaves makes the heat bearable, but it also makes it hard to judge the time. Hoseok steals a quick look at his watch.

Right on schedule. He hopes Yoongi followed his instructions to the letter.

“Hurry up, slowpoke,” he teases over his shoulder, and he chuckles at the sound of frustration you make as you pedal faster to catch up. It takes a few seconds for you to coast into position at his side.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” you fuss, “Wanna clue me in?”

Hoseok turns his head to smile at you, sly like a fox.

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

The realtor had said the place would need a little love.

Turns out, it needs a lot more than a little. But Hoseok was able to see right past the weathered wooden porch and salt air-worn paint right away. When he found this place online, he knew it was the one.

He slows his bike to a stop as the two of you make your approach, taking note of the warm light that glows just behind the frosted glass pane in the front door. Looks like Yoongi came through.

“What is this place?” you ask, skidding to a stop beside him. You stand over your bike on tiptoes as you survey the house, brow knit in confusion.

“It’s a surprise,” Hoseok grins, hopping off his bike. He shoves the kickstand into place and offers you his hand, which you accept with a suspicious smile. “Wanna go in?”

“Yeah sure,” you shrug. “We’ve probably already stolen these bikes. What’s a little breaking and entering on top of that?”

Hoseok laughs, leading the way to the front door.

He cringes when the porch floorboards creak loudly beneath his feet, making a mental note to put that project next on his to-do list. You stand with arms crossed, watching silently as he crouches down to lift the mat at the front door, fingers feeling beneath for the concealed key.

You stop him with fingers wrapped around his forearm when he gets to his feet.

“Wait,” you whisper frantically. “We can’t just walk into someone’s house, Hoseok.”

He chuckles before leaning down to kiss the adorable confusion right off your face. Then he slides his key into the lock and pushes the door wide open.

“Not someone’s house,” he corrects, watching you peer skeptically inside.

You step slowly through the threshold and scan the candle-lit front room before turning to him with wide eyes.

“Our house.”

“You bought a beach house.”

It’s the third time you’ve said it by now, and not once has the hushed observation been directed at Hoseok. You said it when you brushed your fingertips over the freshly-dried spackle on the living room wall, said it again as you passed your hand over the base coat of stain on the mantle over the fireplace.

You say it again as you turn to him, jaw slack with disbelief.

“You bought a beach house.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok admits sheepishly, uncertain of your reaction. He tries to see the room the way you must see it now, candles and tools scattered across the tables, floors covered in drop cloths, cans of paint and plaster stacked up in the corners.

Yoongi had done a decent job of clearing up most of the clutter before he left, but judging by the astonishment on your face, he’s probably been romanticizing the mess in here.

He’d really hoped to have a lot more done the first time he brought you here, but he’s learned the hard way that some home renovation projects don’t go as smoothly in real life as they do on YouTube. The process has been a bit of trial and error, with a lot more error than he’d originally counted on.

“I know it doesn’t look like a whole lot right now,” he says, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck, “But it’s going to look great when I’m done. Yoongi helped me sand all week.”

You shake your head like you’re coming out of a daze.

“Oh my god Hoseok, no -- ” you vow with a shaky laugh, “ -- no, this is incredible. This is amazing. I’m in shock.”

“Yeah?” Hoseok grins, relief melting over him. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted -- ”

“ -- Wait,” you interrupt, one brow quirked high as you step closer. “You said… you said something important. You said this was our house.”

“Did I?”

You narrow your dark eyes at him and he chuckles uncomfortably, nerves kicking in for the first time tonight. The feeling -- and the occasion both call for more booze. Which he’s prepared for.

“Are you going to give me a tour?” you ask.

“Later,” he says. “After.”

“After what, Hoseok? You’re killing me slowly with all this suspense.”

“Hang out here for a second,” he instructs, ducking into the small kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”

It takes him no time at all to find the bottle of Moet he’s stashed in the fridge and the clean champagne flutes tucked away into the corner of his dutifully-dusted kitchen cabinet. He double-checks the contents of the box on the counter, making sure everything is in place.

Then he takes a deep breath.

Your brows lift in surprise when he walks back into the room with that box in his hands. You watch him set it down on the floor, saying nothing when he turns back to retrieve the champagne and glasses.

When he finally returns, you’re on your knees -- examining the package. Lips pursed thoughtfully as you press your fingers to the gold flecks on the fabric lid.

“Hoseok,” you whisper, flicking your gaze up to find his. “I have so many questions right now.”

You look so damned beautiful in this candlelight -- like you brought your golden glow from the beach indoors. Like you absorbed the sun’s rays and you’re emitting them now like some kind of superpower.

“Have a drink with me,” he murmurs, “And I’ll answer them.”

Something in the room shifts then; the temperature changes. The silly fun of the afternoon evaporates, leaving behind something heavy and heady. Hoseok knows you feel it too, when your half-smile slowly drops and you pull your lower lip between your teeth.

“Okay,” you agree softly, “Let’s have a drink.”

You watch him with those focused dark eyes as he pops the champagne. The drink bubbles over the lip of both flutes as he pours, on account of his haste and shaky hands. Then you take one of the glasses in hand and offer him the other, which he quickly accepts.

“To this surprise housewarming,” you declare, raising your flute for a toast.

Hoseok clinks his glass against yours, taking note of the way you watch him carefully over the lip of your glass as you’re tilting back the flute to take a sip. He decides he can’t keep you -- or himself -- in suspense any longer.

“You know how special you are to me, right?”

You make a face.

“Did you bring me to your new house to break up with me?”

Hoseok’s startled laugh turns into a cough and tears prick his eyes as champagne bubbles blaze a path up his sinuses.

“Yes,” he says dryly, once he’s managed to collect himself. “I figured dumping you by candlelight sounded like the most romantic option.”

You tip your head back when you laugh, light playing off the curve of your neck, your collarbones, the tiny gold pendant that sits in the pretty dip at the base of your throat.

God, he loves your skin.

Hoseok looks at you long and hard before lifting his flute to take a long drink.

“This is for you,” he says quietly, acknowledging the box out loud for the first time.

“What’s in it?”

“A human head,” Hoseok snorts, flinching when you reach over to pinch his leg. “Don’t be a pain. Just open it.”

Your eyes light with excitement as you smooth your hands over the lid and Hoseok can’t help but smile. But your excitement turns into confusion the moment you open the box and find the neat row of plain white envelopes inside.

“What is this?”

“Quit asking me questions,” Hoseok deadpans, pouring himself another drink. He tops off your glass, too. “And start at the front.”

You shake your head with a wry smile as you work the first envelope open, slipping your fingers in between the paper folds to fish out the contents inside. Hoseok sips his champagne as you produce the polaroid photo, head cocked to the side as you study it.

It was cold that day, he remembers that. You’d been bundled up in a pretty scarf and matching belted coat. In the photo, the mid-morning sun flares behind you, illuminating your profile as you squint up at a display of laminated menus.

“This is me,” you murmur, mouth quirking into a disbelieving smile, “At the coffee truck outside of work.”

“Yup.”

“We’d just started dating.”

“Yup.”

“How did you take this without me noticing?”

“Easy,” Hoseok laughs. “You stared at that menu for five minutes straight. I’ve never seen someone take coffee selection so seriously. Thought you were gonna order the most complicated drink in history.”

You roll your eyes but you laugh. So does he.

“Turn it over.”

You flip the polaroid over in your hands, eyes moving over the neat block handwriting on the back.

coolest girl i ever met

“This is the day I knew I liked you,” Hoseok murmurs, “Like, really liked you.”

Your eyes are a bit glassy when you look up at him now, the corner of your mouth tugging into a soft smile.

“You were that sure that fast, huh?” “Yeah,” he admits, scratching self-consciously at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I was.”

You move onto the next envelope, this time prepared when you pull out yet another polaroid picture. This one is harder to place, taken in the dark, mostly black but for a few splashes of vivid light.

“I don’t know this one,” you frown, ghosting your finger across one particularly colorful blur of red and gold. “I can’t make it out.”

You turn the polaroid over, looking once again for Hoseok’s neat block letters.

she’s into me

You laugh out loud.

“That was the lantern festival in Cheonggyecheon,” Hoseok explains. “I’d invited you, but you’d had plans, remember? And I was just going to get Yoongi to go with me but you called me last minute to say you’d decided to come.”

“I remember,” you say with a smile. “Yeri invited me to a movie, but I cancelled on her. I wanted to hang out with you instead.”

“Yeah, well that’s the night I knew you really liked me.”

“Cocky,” you smirk, reaching for another envelope. “But warranted.”

Your eyes light with recognition the moment you pull the next picture out. You’re crouched down at the edge of his mother’s koi pond, one finger making ripples on the surface of the water.

“First time we ever went to Gwangju together,” you muse quietly. “First time I met your parents.”

You flip the polaroid over.

pretty sure my mom loves her more than she loves me

“Okay, this might actually be true,” you tease, taking a sip of your champagne. “Your mom and dad love me.”

“Yeah, well that was the day I decided I loved you, too,” Hoseok chuckles. “The point where I kind of knew there was no turning back.”

You look up from the photograph then, eyes glassy with emotion when they find his. Candlelight flickering across your face as you look at him fondly.

“You still feel that way?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” he laughs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Keep going.”

The next polaroid is a selfie of Hoseok in bed but it’s by no means sexual. There are dark circles under his eyes and his skin has a sallow tint. Next to his pillow, the bedside table is littered with cold medicine and empty cups.

“Is this when you had the flu?” you ask, flipping the polaroid over. The neat block lettering on the back confirms your theory.

she took care of me

“You were so pitiful,” you laugh, shaking your head at the memory. “Wrapped up in your blankets like a burrito. I swear, men have zero tolerance for discomfort.”

“I nearly died,” Hoseok protests dramatically. “But you dropped everything to come take care of me. That’s the day I knew you loved me, too.”

Your smile is brilliant now, open and sweet as you reach for the last remaining envelope. Hoseok takes another swig of champagne, slugging it down as you pull out the polaroid and study the image.

You are wearing your delicate sundress, leaned up against the wooden railing that separates the sand and rocks. Standing just next to your bike, nose in the air as you breathe in the salt carried on the wind.

“This is today,” you murmur, brows knitting together when you flip the picture over and find the back side blank. “And you haven’t written anything here.”

“Yeah, well,” Hoseok starts and stops, clearing his throat. “I haven’t had a chance to write it in yet.”

“Oh.”

“That’s the day I asked you to marry me.”

“Oh.”

You blink. Once, then again. Hoseok can hear the shaky breath you take in when your mouth parts in surprise. He sets his champagne flute down, sufficiently bolstered by the booze.

“So that’s what I’m doing right now. I’m asking you to marry me.”

You’re still mute with shock, eyes wide as they go from Hoseok to the picture and back to Hoseok again.

“But uh, the longer you don’t say anything, the less confident I feel about this entire plan,” he chuckles awkwardly.

You take him off balance when you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and your thighs around his waist. He keeps you both from toppling over with a palm flat to the floor, laughing as you pepper his face with kisses.

“So is that a yes?”

“Yes,” you sigh, pressing your lips to his temple, his neck, his jaw. “Yes. To you and to these amazing pictures and to this beach house. Yes to all of it.”

You pull away from him to grab the champagne, eyes flashing mischievously as you take a drink straight from the bottle. “Yes to champagne, too.”

Hoseok feigns shock. “Naughty.”

You kiss him deeply then, thoroughly, enough for him to feel the remnants of the carbonation on your tongue. You tease him with a barely there roll of your hips and his cock responds instantaneously, at the mercy of the warm friction he can feel straight through the thin material of his board shorts.

“You know what I’m thinking?” you murmur against his mouth.

“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah,” Hoseok chuckles, sucking a breath between his teeth when you bite the skin just below his ear.

“We have a lot to celebrate, right?” you reason, tone light. “But we came here for a housewarming.”

You lean back just far enough to pull your sundress over your head, tossing it carelessly aside, leaving you in nothing but those pretty white panties he loves so much.

“So we should warm it.”

Hoseok grins, pulling the champagne bottle out of your grip. He turns it up just like you did, finishing what’s left before setting it back down.

“I like the way you think.”

The only bedroom in this house is buried beneath a two-inch thick layer of sawdust right now.

Not that making it to a bedroom seems high on your list of priorities.

The fact that you’re both sitting on top of a drop cloth on Hoseok’s living room floor isn’t stopping you from threading your fingers into his hair, slipping your tongue into his mouth, grinding against his lap.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” you laugh, pressing your bare breasts to his chest once he’s managed to untangle himself from your limbs long enough to shrug out of his shirt. Your pebbled nipples drag across the lithe planes of his chest and his cock jumps in his shorts.

“Clever.”

“That’s me,” Hoseok murmurs against your lips, deft fingers slipping beneath the damp cotton between your thighs. He slides the pad of one long finger across your wet slit and you gasp, rocking against it.

“Gotta get you out of these panties,” he laments, pulling one nipple into his mouth and working it with his teeth. You shudder in his hold. “Quick.”

“What are you in such a hurry for?” you tease, circling your hips to chase the perfect pressure of his fingertips. “We have all night.”

“We have about three more minutes if you keep grinding on me like this,” Hoseok laughs, shifting your bodies to lean you back onto the floor. “So give me a break because I want to enjoy this.”

You lie back for him dutifully, dark hair spilling onto the drop cloth around you, skin gleaming in the candlelight. Your gold pendant twinkles at the base of your neck.

God, he loves the way you look like this.

Flushed with excitement and anticipation. Like a feast laid out just for him. He rids himself of those pesky board shorts as fast as he can, leaning over you on hands and knees.

“You’re gonna marry me,” he muses, burying his face into the soft skin under your jaw. “You already said yes, can’t take it back now.”

Your laughter is echoing in his ears as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck, across the bronzed planes of your shoulder. He can taste the day on your skin; the ocean salt and sunscreen mixed with that flavor that’s so uniquely you.

“I don’t want to take it back,” you sigh, whimpering when Hoseok kisses a path down the velvety skin between your breasts. He travels lower, kissing just below your bellybutton as he starts working your panties off with one hand. “I’m gonna keep you.”

Hoseok chuckles as he tosses your panties away, off to somewhere unimportant. What’s important is the way you take a deep breath and hold it when his mouth hovers coyly over your cunt.

“Look at me,” he directs, peering up at you from beneath heavy eyelids. You open your eyes to meet his gaze, candlelight dancing over your pretty face.

“I love you,” he breathes, lowering his mouth to make contact with your clit. The air leaves your lungs in that moment, a soft exhalation of air that makes the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end.

“I love you too,” you sigh, hips jerking at the contact, fingers digging hard into his hair. “So much.”

He knows you by now, knows how you like to be touched. Your rhythmic panting goes a bit ragged, when he slides two fingers into your cunt, crooking up to stroke you the way you like while his mouth works your clit.

God, he loves this part.

The part where you lose any semblance of control. The desperate sounds you make when you start to come apart beneath his mouth and hands.

“Hoseok -- “ your voice is strangled when you call out, “ -- Hobi, I’m gonna come.”

Something about the way you say his name goes straight to his dick. He grits his teeth when your nails dig almost painfully into his scalp as you start to tremble, shuddering against his mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” he soothes, pinning your hips down with his strong hands, keeping you from pulling away from the pleasure that borders on pain. “That’s it. Sound so good when you come for me.”

Hoseok stays face first in your cunt, nose and tongue pressed against you, until he’s certain the last wave has come and gone. Between his own legs, his cock pulses painfully, leaking pre-come at the thought of finally being inside of you.

Your body twitches with the aftershocks of your release as he slowly kisses his way up your thighs, your mound, your stomach.

“How was that?” he asks with a teasing tilt to his mouth, stealing your ability to answer when he kisses you deeply, fitting his slim hips between your legs. He reaches down to grab his stiff cock, sliding it across your slick entrance. You clamp your thighs together to tighten the drag and he groans at the friction.

“Amazing,” you sigh, dragging your nails over his ass, up the lean muscles of his back. “Perfect. You should let me return the favor.”

His dick practically jumps at the suggestion, stomach contracting hard at the prospect of feeling your pretty mouth wrapped around it. But Hoseok is too worked up, too riled up by the alcohol and the excitement.

“Can’t tonight,” he pants, arousal shooting up his spine when you wrap one hand around his now-wet cock. You pump him lazily, trailing soft bites from his jaw to his shoulder. “Need to be inside of you.”

“Yeah, I’m ready for that too,” you admit, guiding the blunt head of his cock to your entrance.

He surges forward then, pushing past the tight grip of your fingers, groaning as he’s enveloped completely by your warm cunt. You whimper at the stretch, locking your legs around him, gasping when he bottoms out.

He pulls back to the tip only to drive in again, earning another strangled moan. You’re squirming beneath him, breathless and dewy, looking like some kind of wet dream.

“I’ll never get over how good it feels to be inside of you,” Hoseok admits, burying himself as deep as he humanly can into you.

You’re so wet he can feel you spilling out onto the base of his dick and for one fleeting moment he wishes you knew how good this feels for him. How wet and hot and tight you feel around him. How being inside of you like this makes his brain go haywire, reduces him to only instinct and need.

You lift your hips to meet each snap of his, the wet sound of your joining echoing off the walls in this mostly empty house.

He hears you moaning his name in between the other sounds you make, in between the panting and mewling that makes his balls tighten. You grip his forearms as he grinds against you, kissing you in between desperate breaths.

“I think I’m gonna come again,” you gasp against his mouth. “Don’t stop.”

“Oh, fuck,” Hoseok groans, pulling back to get to his knees. He hooks one of your legs over the crook of one strong forearm, using his one free hand to press a thumb to your clit. His rhythm falters as he watches himself slide in and out of you, hypnotized by the sight of his body joined to yours.

You lift your ass off the floor, back arching as you chase the pressure of his fingers. Hoseok strokes you desperately, feeling his orgasm looming menacingly at the base of his cock. It takes just a few more strained pumps of his hips to set you off.

The second he feels you clamp down around him, Hoseok folds back over you, arms braced on either side of you as he thrusts through his own orgasm. He shuts his eyes and groans as he empties his cock inside of you, thrusting until he can’t anymore.

He collapses onto you, heart racing as he tries to catch his breath.

“Don’t leave me,” you groan when Hoseok peels his damp skin away from yours to get to his feet.

He strides across the room, completely nude, grinning when you turn onto your side and go up on one elbow to ogle him.

“Just for a second,” he calls out, pulling out every unorganized drawer in the kitchen until he finally comes across a pen. “Gotta finish something.”

He makes a show of holding it in the air as he walks back into the living room, opening the gold-flecked box, and pulling out the last unmarked polaroid photo.

You’re smiling the entire time you watch him pen the last caption on the last photograph.

she said yes

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[behindyourbarrette]

Star Light, Star Bright

summary: The team goes camping on a long weekend. Turns out, it’s really easy to tell someone how you feel when you’re under a starry night sky. 

pairing: spencer reid/reader

category: fluff, start to finish

warnings/includes: mention of food, a mild burn

work count: 4.1k

a/n: this is my fav thing i’ve written in a HOT SECOND. enjoy! pls reblog if you feel inclined, it helps me out a ton!

check it out on ao3

---

You’ve never found chicken pox to be more of a miracle.

In truth, you are a little saddened that Jack’s Boy Scout troop all got sick and their camping trip had to be postponed. This does not change the fact that you’re elated at the opportunity to nab Hotch’s campsite reservation. The team jumped at the chance for a vacation, the promised long weekend only truly promised in places without cell service.

You pick Spencer up early, the first of many people you’ve offered to drive out to the mountains. After tossing a very heavy-sounding duffel bag into your trunk, he clambers into the passenger seat. He strikes you as a little nervous—he won’t quite look at you as you wind your way out of D.C and towards the countryside.

“I’ve never been camping before, actually.” He says it quietly, mid-conversation about Boy Scouts and the safety of camping with children. There’s a 5-mile radius around Quantico where work is the only thing you can really think about. As you turn onto the highway, hands flexing against the wheel, you’re glad to be free of the office.

“Really? Never?”

It makes sense, the longer his sentence sits on your tongue. Vegas isn’t the most hospitable environment to camp in. You make a mental note to thank your parents for raising you on the East Coast, where the forests are frequent and the soil is actually fertile.

“Yeah. I’m not sure, I’m, uh, really suited for it.” You look at him now, the slight sadness in his eyes, and there are a thousand things you’d like to say. Instead, you reach across the center console, squeezing his hand in yours. Before he can say anything, you’ve returned your hand to the wheel, eyes fixed on the horizon. 

---

You’ve lived in Virginia for a few years, but somehow you’ve never found it this breathtaking. You have no idea how you got roped into driving, given that Derek and Emily usually take the wheel, but you’re far from complaining. As you wind through the forest, the canopy of leaves casting a filter of sunshine over the ground, you’re left speechless. The trees part in favor of the dirt road, and you find yourself absorbed in the surplus of green and foliage as you drive.

“There’s over 15,000 acres of this. It’s the largest protected land preserve in the tri-state area.”

You turn your head to watch Spencer murmur, still absorbed in a book. For the first time, you notice that he’s wearing a polo shirt and a beanie that Penelope knit him for Christmas. The whole sight is so...un-Spencer like that you’re torn between finding it endearing and concerning. You gulp down everything you want to tell him, swallowing all of the unidentifiable feelings in your throat.

“I’m excited. I love camping. My dad used to take me here all the time.” He perks up at this, and closes his book. You nod, pursing your lips into a smile. You steal a quick glance at the backseat, where Penelope and Derek have fallen asleep.

“Can you keep a secret?”

You have Spencer’s attention now. He nods so vehemently you laugh, tearing your eyes away from his in favor of focusing on the road.

“I wanted to be a park ranger when I was younger.” You’re only a little embarrassed of this; the jump from environmentalist to federal agent is just laughable enough to warm your cheeks. Spencer’s eyes widen.

“Really? How did you—I mean, when did you decide to be a—actually, I take it back. Hugging trees is beneficial for your health, after all.” He smirks, and you reach out to punch him on the arm. He rubs the spot absently, a grin forming on his face as your blush deepens. You try to portray yourself to the team as someone who’s a little tougher than the little girl who cried when she found out that people litter in National Parks. With Spencer, it’s different. Still, you can’t bank on what he will or won’t tell Derek.

“If you tell anyone, I will kick your ass. Forget it.” You get the sense that you are not going to live this down. To your advantage, it’s Spencer who blushes this time, his cheeks warming a delicate pink.

“I can’t forget it, actually. I have an eidetic—ow!”

---

The campsite is glorious.

Or, as Penelope would put it, rustic. It’s the perfect happy medium between the forest and the lake nearby, with a trail leading to the beach just a few feet from the site. The trees filter out just enough sun so that it’s pleasantly warm out. There’s ample space for a few tents, and a bear locker. You’re seated at a picnic bench with the girls, unloading the food and cooking supplies as the boys attempt to put together tents. From what you can see and hear, it sounds like Derek is muscling his way through it, much to Spencer and Hotch’s chagrin.

“You’re glowing. What’s got you in such a good mood?” Emily nudges you in the side, a sly smile on her face as she screws the propane line into the campstove. You flush, and shrug your shoulders.

“I love camping. I’m just excited to be here with you guys.”

Penelope reaches across the table to hug you. She’s dressed perfectly for the occasion: you don’t think you’ve ever seen bedazzled hiking boots before, but there’s a first time for everything.

“You know, I’m surprised Spence came. He normally skips out on these kinds of things.” JJ looks back at you from the bear locker, where she’s stacking cans of soup and Hotch’s cooler. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment, but you look towards Spencer before she can say anything else. He’s managing to put up his tent surprisingly well; he’s only struggling with the final few posts as he stumbles around the uneven ground. You turn back to JJ, shrugging.

“I mean, I think he can appreciate the outdoors. He’s probably read Walden.”

Emily laughs, and you feel as though the conversation has finally let up. JJ has a point, but as soon as you had asked Spencer if he was coming, he had agreed. He doesn’t look particularly out of place, either. Over the course of the past hour, he’s somehow inherited a pair of sunglasses and a red flannel. You look away, pursing your lips.

“Okay, I think we’re done.” Derek calls, waving his arm to catch your attention. There are now five small tents, only a little crinkled and trampled over. Emily nods in approval, nudging one of them with the tip of her boot. It only shakes a little.

“Good job, guys. They look...structurally sound.” Hands on your hips, you bend to inspect the guys’ handiwork. Spencer winces as you tug on a tent’s zipper, and it whines in protest. You shrug, smiling as you straighten.

“We should check out the lake.” Derek gestures to the blue expanse of water in the distance, and Penelope squeals. You hear the sound of metal clinking together, and turn.

It’s Hotch, holding what you assume to be a fishing pole. While this should be very surprising, you can’t come up with anything funny to say. Emily makes a joke about the catch of the day, and Hotch doesn’t laugh.

“Are there canoes involved? I didn’t bring a suit.” JJ asks, arms crossed over her chest. You nod, pointing to the rental shack on the eastern side of the lake.

“You guys ready to get some sun?”

---

“You look cute in hiking boots, princess.” You should not find this as funny as you do. Maybe it’s the fact that Derek definitely had Penelope apply some sort of oil to his biceps while they were in a tent; there’s no way that he just naturally glistens like that. You squint up at him, shrugging your shoulders. While your outfit is a little unorthodox—you remembered to bring a bikini, but forgot water shoes—it’ll work just fine. Spencer enters your peripheral vision, wrinkling his nose in Derek’s direction. You resist the urge to smile at this.

“Spence.”

You get his attention, catching up to him in just a few steps. The beach is pretty, lacking in sand but perfectly cool and sunny. He’s wearing too-big sunglasses and, surprisingly, Bermuda shorts. You trudge along the rocky path, handing him a bottle of sunscreen.

“Come on, I need your help. Sunscreen me.”

He seems shocked, fiddling with the bottle. You turn your back to him, raising your arms as you walk backwards, waiting to hit him before you stop.

“Is sunscreen a verb?” His voice is a little hoarse, and you smirk.

“Would you prefer lotion? Massage?” You tease, and you can practically feel him tense up.

“N-no, I wouldn’t. Hold your hair up.”

You oblige, and it takes everything in you not to sigh as he rubs the cool sunscreen into your back. He has really, really big hands and nimble fingers. Biting your lip, you conjure a mental image of them. You feel a little silly for imagining his hands when he’s right there, but you don’t want him to stop touching you. He coats your skin, movements deft and purposeful. You turn, reaching for the bottle.

“Take off your glasses. Your turn.” You like being a little bossy; he flushes as you reach up to spread the lotion across his cheeks, dabbing gently. He exhales slowly, relaxing into your touch.

“Let’s go. You’re my canoe buddy.”

His mouth falls open in surprise, and an evil part of your brain wonders how it would feel to kiss it. The thought is gone before you can act on it, though, and you wave him towards the shore. He stands still, lingering by the campsite.

“I was going to read on the beach, actually—”

“Nope. Come on! I need a partner.”

—-

The lake is cool, and you make yourself busy by being a very unhelpful canoeing partner. Spencer is rowing surprisingly well, scooping water from below and propelling the boat forward. You, on the other hand, are focused on stretching out in the boat. The sun is deliciously warm on your skin, and the occasional splash of water is heaven to the touch.

“You know, there are two sets of oars. We’d get the most momentum if you rowed, too.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll row. I’m not any good at it, though. That’s why I needed a partner.” You pat him on the shoulder affectionately, reaching for the other oar. The motion tips the canoe forward a little, and panic flashes across Spencer’s face.

“Don’t do that again. I do not want to end up in this lake. Do you know how many bacteria are in most man made lakes? You don’t want to know.”

You are many things, but you are not a quitter. Testing the waters, you lean forward again as you row, a little out of sync with Spencer’s strokes.

“Please don’t capsize,”

Hotch calls out from the shore, and Spencer shoots you a look as if to say listen. You shrug, continuing to row and occasionally shifting your weight. The look on his face is worth it.

“You know how to swim, right?”

You ask, voice low and as inconspicuous as you can manage. This backfires—Spencer turns around to shake his head, unbalancing the boat. He lets go of his oar, tightening the strap on his life vest. You cling to the sides, laughing as you try to steady the canoe.

“Not funny. You know, boating related accidents are incredibly common.”

His voice drifts off as Derek and Emily’s boat passes by. Their sportsmanship is admirable; they’re working as a perfect unit, quickly propelling their canoe forward with quick rowing and a lot of effort.

Spencer is scolding you half-heartedly when you get caught in their wake. You couldn’t have steadied the boat if you tried; and before you can react the canoe is upside down and you’re cast into the cool blue.

“I’m going to contract a brain-eating amoeba.”

Spencer coughs, bobbing to the surface. You emerge a few moments later, laughing, and reach for him.

“Worth it. You have plenty of brains to be eaten, genius.”

You watch him try to contain his smile the entire way to the shore.

---

You’re drying off as the sun sets, splashes of pink and purple coating the sky. It’s incredible; over the lake you can see the entire expanse of fields and forest, laid out like a painting.

“You guys brought food, right?”

Emily calls out from the picnic bench. She’s toweling off, sunglasses in her hair as she jokes with Morgan. You nod, turning back to Spencer.

He’s thoroughly drenched. You feel a little guilty for tipping the boat over; he’s spent a decent amount of time wringing out his clothes, and as night falls a chill builds in the air. After pulling a jacket on, you toss him a towel.

“That was fun.”

Your eyes widen a little, genuine surprise lodging itself in your throat. He takes in the look on your face, smiling lightly.

“Better than reading on the beach?” You offer, but this is too good to be true.

“Marginally.”

You frown, suppressing a smirk as you catch the scent of propane drifting through the air. You both head in the direction of the camp stove, where Hotch is fiddling with the gas tank.

“That looks...unsafe.” Spencer mutters, brow furrowed.

Hotch shoots him a look, and you both back off in favor of finding Morgan and Garcia, who are attempting to start a bonfire.

You don’t expect this to happen.

Spencer is arguably your best friend. He’s been there for you through thick and thin. For better or for worse, you’ve had each other. This trip was supposed to be unifying, and a small part of you had even hoped that maybe, just maybe, it’d give you the bravery to say what you’ve been thinking for a while.

“I cannot believe you intentionally burn your marshmallows.”

Spencer is looking at you like you’ve committed a crime; you are very familiar with this expression, but being on the receiving end of it is new. Thankfully, you’re ready to defend your stance to near-death. A somewhat maniacal grin on your face, you stab another marshmallow onto a skewer and shove it directly into the fire.

“I’m with Pretty Boy on this one. That’s just cruel. It doesn’t even heat it all the way through.” You scowl in Derek’s direction, turning back to your now on-fire marshmallow. You pull it out of the flame, watching it sear as the group murmurs in distaste. It only took three hours to start a fire, and by that time Emily had managed to heat a can of soup on the campstove. Spirits were relatively high, all things considered.

You watch in wonder as the marshmallow curves, melting just how you like it. Before you can stop it, it falls straight down onto your leg.

“Shit. That’s like, on fire.”

You say, your voice rising in pitch and volume as it becomes increasingly clear that not only is the marshmallow very, very hot but it is not coming off. The group springs into unsure action, voices loud and panicked as you push away from both your chair and the fire. The physics of melting sugar be damned, Derek manages to scrape it off with his skewer, and you’re left with a very attractive hole in your pants and a patch of tender skin.

“How do you love camping?” JJ asks, eyes wide as she watches you brush yourself off. Stabbing another marshmallow onto your skewer, you shrug.

“It’s all part of the fun.”

This time, you don’t set your marshmallow on fire. You mimic Spencer, who is carefully rotating his marshmallow. There has to be a system for what he’s doing; he’s laser-focused on the fire, his entire face lit up by the flickering red and orange light. You lean in, and before long you fall into a rhythm of roasting a marshmallow to golden-brown perfection, then pressing it into a graham cracker. Emily is incredible at assembling s’mores, and by time the fire is just a few crackling embers everyone has a little chocolate smeared over their faces.

“I’m really glad we did this.” JJ’s voice is just above a whisper. She’s leaning against Emily, the two of them sharing a blanket as the fire slowly fades. Hotch nods sagely, a rare smile on his face.

“It’s nice. A break. Some fresh air. Trees.” You gesture to the forest around you, unable to contain a sheepish grin. When you look to your right, Spencer’s smiling too. Penelope squeezes your hand. As you watch the last log burn into ash, you wonder how you got so lucky.

---

Later, everyone is too tired to stargaze.

This fact wounds you deeply. Stargazing is your favorite part of camping; there is absolutely nothing that parallels the experience of driving away from the city and looking up into the constellations. To your dismay, everyone is in their tents by the time it’s dark enough to see the winks of light overhead.

You begrudgingly get ready for bed; stepping around the campsite, it’s clear to see that everyone has mostly turned in for the night. Derek and Penelope’s tent is dark. Emily, Hotch, and JJ are all snoring at varying volumes. Spencer’s light is on; you can see his shadow, leaning over to peer at a book. You brush your teeth, swatting bugs away as you stumble towards your tent.

You manage to spend thirty minutes in your tent before you lose your patience. This entire camping trip has been a dream; no work, no cell service, and the people you care about. You’ll be damned if you let it pass you by without checking absolutely everything off your list. You step, a little wobbly, towards the front of your tent. You tug the zipper open, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

On shaking legs, you tug your hiking boots on, the evening cold nipping at your ankles. Despite your attempts to lessen the noise, you watch Spencer’s shadow waver.

“Spence!” You stage-whisper, praying to every deity you can think of that he’s awake and the rest of the team isn’t. To your immediate relief, you watch him tug the zipper of his tent down and emerge, swatting at a few lingering mosquitoes. He looks a little cold; his cheeks are pink and he’s rubbing at his arms. The sight of him in a hoodie and flannel pajama pants is more endearing than you’d expect, and you exhale to clear your head.

“What’s going on?”

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, and you point to the sky. He takes a cursory glance up, and you watch his jaw fall slack as he takes in the starry skies.

“Come on. We can see better from over there.”

You wave him towards the beach. You know exactly where you’re headed; while you’ve never camped in this specific spot, you know how to reach your favorite place to stargaze. Spencer looks at you with something between curiosity and admiration as you lead the way with a flashlight. The forest is still awake and responsive at this hour, crickets chirping and leaves rustling as you step through the greenery.

You find it quickly; the boardwalk is unmistakable. It’s a field, like the ones you’ve been surrounded by all day. Spencer identifies the leaves as rhubarb plants as you step onto the wooden pathway. While any field would work, this one is ideal; the sky opens up as far as the eye can see, the trees parting to admire the world above.

“Here.” You turn off your flashlight, allowing your eyes to adjust to the low, blue moonlight. Spencer follows you as you crouch, laying with your back to the boardwalk. This is what you came for.

“Oh my God.” Your face splits into a grin once you hear Spencer’s voice, low and gravelly against your ear. The sky above is endless; all you can see is the expanse of the stratosphere, stars bright and darkness vast over your heads. You tear up a little; you always do. It feels like the universe is leaning down to meet you in the middle, pressing its face to yours.

“Tell me what you see. I know that you know what we’re looking at.”

You scoot a little closer, trying to absorb a little of his warmth. Eyes still fixed on the sky, Spencer begins.

“There’s so little light pollution. I...I’ve never seen this many stars at once.” His eyes narrow a little, and you watch as he absorbs the world above him.

“That’s Orion.” He points to a collection of stars to your left, a few brighter than the others.

“Those three in a row, that’s his belt. You might be able to see his bow, too, to the right.

The brightest one is six hundred and forty light years away. Betelgeuse.” His voice has dropped to a whisper, and you follow his every word. You can see the warrior above you, the stars winking at you as Spencer describes them.

You fall quiet after a few minutes, and the only sound is that of your slow, synced breaths. You feel as though Spencer has peeled the sky open and revealed it to you; with him, you can see another world entirely.

“We’re looking into the past right now.”

You turn to look at him, a laugh ready to bubble past your lips. You look back up at the sky, where he’s pointed to the Big Dipper.

“That’s Dubhe. We’re seeing light from before we were born.”

You nod, a tear sliding down your cheek and cooling before it reaches your nose. There is so much you would like to tell him before you are both light, visible in this moment from somewhere far away.

As you stare up into the starscape, you gasp. There’s a shooting star, dragging across the Pleiades and heading towards the western skies.

“Make a wish,” You breathe. Before you lose your nerve, you reach out to Spencer, lacing your fingers together. Turning your head, you watch as he grins up at the sky. His features are softer when drenched in moonlight; the slope of his nose, the arch of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw all bathed in a dreamy quality.

After the shooting star winks out, trailing across the dark and blinking into nothing, the silence feels heavier.

“What did you wish for?”

You’re sure that he can hear your heartbeat. The steady thrum of your heart against your ribcage is a drum, urging you forward. You watch his brow knit in consideration, before his gaze finally meets yours. His eyes are more hazel than you’ve ever noticed, each fleck of gold striking you as a star.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

His voice is soft, laced with something solemn beneath the surface. You nod, stealing a glance at the sky before you swallow your fear.

"I wished for you." You say quietly.

You don’t know who moves first, only that there’s a brief shuffle before you’re holding each other. He reaches to cradle your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before finally reaching your lips. Your hands ghost over his jaw, trailing down his neck as he laces his fingers into your hair. You can’t quite breathe, nor think, only repeat a simple refrain over and over, a prayer passing over your lips and into the dark.

Spencer.

---

The sun rises lazily, pink and orange brushstrokes against a blue sky. You’re awake early—to put it lightly, Spencer’s tent is cramped—and it feels good to breathe in the morning air. The team is still asleep, a few yards away as you stretch and take in the cool dawn.

You think maybe, this is all a dream. You’re not sure how else this would exist, so perfectly and wholly true. The universe is a benevolent thing, after all. There is no other explanation for Spencer Reid, the man the world got right.

“You have pancake batter in your hair,” You say, a little mournfully but still laughing. Still layered in jackets and hats, you feel as though you’re being warmed from the inside out. Spencer’s eyes widen, and he reaches up with a batter-covered hand to feel his hair. You laugh again, a little too loudly this time, and he shushes you between chuckles.

The campstove is quiet, the gas running blue as Spencer flips a pancake over. You neglected to tell him that folding the pancake mix in slowly would prevent...explosions. If you had warned him, you wouldn’t have the chance to kiss the flour off of his face, smiling against his cheeks. With a mittened hand, you brush the powder off of his eyelashes.

“Chocolate chips, right?”

You smile, nodding. He remembers how you like your pancakes. Turning away from him, you rifle through a storage bin for something you packed.

“Are you looking for syrup? It’s over here.” He calls, his voice soft against the hushed sounds of morning. The birds have begun to chirp, calling to each other in alternating duets. You shake your head, and present him with a contraption.

His eyes light up, and he looks at you with something a little wild and entirely resembling devotion. You reveal with your other hand a bag of coffee grounds from the coffee shop near your house, grinning up at him.

“I can’t believe you brought me a French press.”

You grin, turning your face as your cheeks burn. Maybe you had hoped this would happen, in slightly different words. After you both tuck into your pancakes, leaning over a plate on the same side of a picnic bench, you watch the sunrise. A bundle of puffy jackets and intertwined hands, you press your back into Spencer’s embrace.

As you watch the moon recede into the horizon, you hope that your past is standing hand and hand, gazing at you fondly.

[jackrrabbit]

🤍 Haikyuu WIP excerpts

preview post for hq because recently i showed sara a list of my works in progress and she laughed at me and then made a dn joke like this is 2015 or something. we got:

🤍 communal property /// ushijima x f!reader x tendou 🤍 sunshower /// atsumu x f!reader x osamu 🤍 corporate ethics /// kuroo x f!reader

anyway these are all terrible first drafts and i'm not sorry. however i am very very into these pieces and if you're interested in seeing them finished, you should tell me fr fr

🤍 communal property /// Ushijima x f!Reader x Tendou

Summary: Tendou shares everything with Ushijima—his food, his dorm room, even the AVs he likes. Why not his girlfriend, too?

Tags/warnings: poly relationship in progress (only you and Tendou are dating at this point), mild suggestiveness ??, s*ze k*nk

Status: 10k words written (holy fuck lol) out of ~11k total? this bitch better get finished is2g

After the match, your voice is hoarse from screaming but you still manage to yell congratulations for your boyfriend when you meet him and Ushijima outside the locker room in the stadium. You’re pumped on the adrenaline of the game, so you don’t even protest like you usually would when Tendou picks you up in the middle of your hug and lifts you off the ground effortlessly. “How was I? Awesome, right? I told you we would beat them!”

“You did, you so did—“ Even though your throat hurts, you can’t help gushing about every rally, every soul-crushing block, every impossible spike. “—and then the guy on the left thought he was clear to shoot it but you just—“ You throw your arms in the air and mime hitting the ball down like a blocker. “Wha-bam!—and the look on his face! I thought he was going to punch you!”

Tendou laughs and lays a sloppy kiss on your cheek, just as thrilled as you are by the win. “You really liked it that much? I thought you weren’t into sports.”

“I loved it! You were so cool! I can’t believe I’m dating someone so cool!” You wrap your legs around his back and hug his face close to yours, reveling in the fact that this weirdo belongs to you wholly and entirely, that you get to have him to yourself (well, other than his roommate). “And I’m not into sports, I’m into you.”

Tendou smiles in a way that makes the sides of his eyes crinkle up and little red patches bloom over his cheeks, a look that says, I like you so much (Y/N), I like you I like you I like you, except he’s probably trying not to be mushy like that since Ushijima is standing off to the side.

You feel a little bad for ignoring him (no one likes being the third wheel, even if he never shows signs of caring) so when Tendou sets you down you turn to Ushijima. “And you! Holy shit, Tendou said you were good, but I didn’t know you were that good. The ball when you hit it was super loud—honestly, how are your hands okay? If I hit it that hard I’d probably break something.”

“My hands are fine…this is normal for me.”

But just because you’ve got them here in front of you and you’re still pumped from the exhilaration of the win, you can’t help grabbing Ushijima’s hand and flipping it palm-up to inspect. True to his word, there’s no redness, just the calluses he’s built up on his long fingers. “Wow.”

“You don’t need to worry about Wakatoshi,” Tendou tells you, grinning and then making a face. “He’s a monster, he can handle it.”

“No kidding. You’re both monsters.” You put the base of your palm up against Ushijima’s to gauge the size of his hand against yours, and without prompting Tendou grabs your other hand to press against his own. Tendou’s fingers are a bit longer, but Ushijima’s are…thicker, more solid. Your hands look like a little kid’s in comparison. “Can I be honest? Half the time I was thinking I actually feel bad for the other team. If I had to take on both of you at the same time, I’d probably cry.”

You’re (mostly) joking, but it’s still a complete shock when you see the side of Ushijima’s mouth curl up a tiny bit. You’ve known each other for months at this point, but you’ve never seen him smile until now. Half of you is wondering if this is some kind of optical illusion caused by the atmosphere and the dim light of the stadium cutting through the evening, but the other half of you enjoys it. You made Ushijima smile. You did that.

“Don’t sell yourself short, (Y/N).” Ushijima says, tipping his head to the side.

“Yeah!” Tendou chimes in, resting his chin on top of your head and folding his arms around your neck from his place behind you. “I’m sure you could take both of us. Right, Wakatoshi?”

So that’s probably a sign.

🤍 sunshower /// Atsumu x f!Reader x Osamu

Summary: [Kitsune AU] You find an old Ō-Inari shrine in the woods that may not be as abandoned as it looks.

Tags/warnings: Shinto religion, this preview is biased toward tsumu oops, yearning/soft vibes

Status: 3.9k words written out of 5–6k? total

Atsumu was the one who found you.

That’s how he likes to talk about it, that he found you, like you’d still be wandering around lost in the woods if it weren’t for him. Osamu thinks you would have found your way back home eventually but Atsumu likes it better this way, this framing that makes it seem like they saved you.

It’s hard for him to tell time linearly the way humans do but you mention once that you’ve known them for a year and that seems to fit. It’s spring now, almost barely tipping into summer, and it was spring when Atsumu found you. He remembers because of the way it was raining: light and tender, a summer rain early in the season, each little drop tapping off a leaf and then rolling into the forest bed to be eaten up by the grass and the soil.

Atsumu likes the rain, likes the sweet earthy smell it makes and the way the plants look so lush and green and alive, like they’d bleed if he sunk his teeth into them. He was out in the woods because of the rain ('Samu was in the shrine, as usual, attempting to set buckets under the millions of holes in the roof so the rainwater wouldn’t pool and rot through the wood underneath). But Atsumu was half asleep in a tree when he heard you crashing through the undergrowth, tripping over ferns and snapping every twig in your path (thought ya might be a bear, he tells you later, that’s how loud ya were) but he wouldn’t really have woken up if he hadn’t heard you singing.

(The odd thing is, you weren’t actually singing. You remember that day as vividly as they do: the warm, humid air making your skin feel sticky under your yellow raincoat; the tiny raindrops filtering through the canopy and kissing your cheeks; the ink feathering out on the damp xerox of the old map you found in your great-aunt’s attic so you could barely make out the “X” that was supposed to mark the location of the lost Inari shrine… You were cursing how stupid you’d been to go on a wild goose chase into the mountains with no cell service and no marked trail to look for a shrine that no one had seen in decades. You definitely weren’t singing.)

But Atsumu remembers it differently. No matter how many times you explain that you were just talking to yourself, when he replays the sound of your voice back then (reaching and lilting and falling, the way the birds talk to each other in the early morning, except the music of it was poured into syllables and words), it sounds like you’re singing. He wasn’t sure at first, hadn’t heard a voice that wasn’t Osamu’s in so many years that he gets tired counting them, but then he saw you push into view from between two bushes and he thought, a human!

A girl, too—it was hard to say at first because you were wearing that weird, slick jacket of yours, so bright yellow it was like an oversized flower blooming out of the grass, but then you tilted your head up to feel the rain on your face and the hood fell down and he knew. Not just a human, a girl! Atsumu wanted to yell for Osamu, make him come and confirm that there was a person wandering around not a mile from the shrine. A real person! Singing and smiling and wiping the rain off her cheeks (does that mean you like the rain, just like he does? did you come out to feel it too?) But he also wanted to surprise Osamu so he hid his tails and his ears and came down from the tree and asked if you had lost your way in the forest, since you were so far from any path…

When you think back on this yourself you’re amazed that you just went with him: a strange boy (man?) wearing a fox mask and traditional Shinto priest robes, which were somehow pristine white and red despite him having appeared from nowhere in the middle of a dense forest, who told you he had no idea what direction the village was but he could take you to the Inari shrine you’d been searching for…well. Maybe you were too surprised to be wary, or maybe you were just exhausted and lost. But you like to think you had a sense of it even then, the irrational belief that the boy in the woods was not just a boy in the woods.

Atsumu thinks you knew. Humans always understand, even when they try not to… He remembers, he took your hand that day in the forest and you saw that the claws on his fingers were too long to be human, and you said nothing because on some level you already felt it. Your skin was cool then, smooth and damp from the rain; he wanted to stop, run his hands up your arms, touch the places on your face where your mouth had been turned up at the corners and press his fingers into your cheeks.

🤍 corporate ethics /// Kuroo x f!Reader

Summary: [Office AU] The new junior marketing associate just happens to be Kuroo’s favorite camgirl, and he’s having trouble keeping his hands to himself.

Tags/Warnings: boss/employee, businessman!Kuroo as a reformed player, camgirl reader, this excerpt has a lil bit of 18+ content 👀

Status: 1.2k words written out of 4k? words total

Kuroo doesn’t watch porn.

It’s not, like, a moral principle or something. He has nothing against pornography. As far as he knows, it’s perfectly normal for single men. He just doesn’t like it…unless it’s you.

When he was in school it was easy. Being a teenager meant being so flooded with hormones that a warm breeze could get him up, and the adrenaline rush of winning a game was better than any big-titted porn actress faking moans into a shit-quality boom mic. Sure, he watched porn back then (what teenage boy didn’t?), but it was more out of curiosity than necessity. It was all kind of a mystery at that point, the way it can only be when you’re a clueless virgin and you and all your friends are too busy practicing for the next game to get girls.

Somehow Bokuto was the first one in their friend group to lose his virginity, and the memory of the dumbass self-consciously describing the experience has been lodged in Kuroo’s brain for the 10+ years since. “It was…I don’t know. She smelled good. You know how girls always smell good?” Bokuto’s hands twitched and his face was pink. “It’s just really…soft.”

Soft was right, Kuroo would reflect when he got laid for the first time a few months later. Soft, warm, wet. Sex was awkward at first, but before he knew it it was more natural than breathing.

It didn’t change much after high school, either. He didn’t get into volleyball for the groupies, but they didn’t hurt. There were girls when he played for his college team, more girls when he joined a business frat, so many girls he couldn’t keep track…they blurred together after a while. It didn’t take effort. You don’t need game when you’re 6’2 and you’re in the gym 40 hours a week, and you definitely don’t need porn.

So he never got into it. Now that he’s promoting volleyball instead of playing, things are more complicated. Kuroo’s never been the type who expects things to fall in his lap, but there are so many rules when it comes to dating in the real world. Good morning texts, anniversaries, flowers, parents. It’s exhausting. One time—seriously, just one time—Kuroo misses his girlfriend’s birthday to go watch a Jackals game, and the next time he sees her she throws her drink on him in public and keys his car. After that, Kuroo decides that until he’s ready to settle down there will be no more girlfriends. Which means no more reliable sex. Which means resorting to porn.

Which means you.

You, batting your eyelashes at the camera and biting the side of your lip. You, purring and mewing like a kitten. You, lying back on your pretty pink bedsheets in your pretty pink lingerie, sliding your hands between your legs. It takes Kuroo a full month to decide to pay for access to your website (Kenma’s unsolicited recommendation) but it takes less than five minutes for him to upgrade access to premium. You look like a wet dream—no, you look like the centerfold of every dirty magazine Kuroo managed to get his hands on when he was younger. Pristine and alluring and so deliciously out of reach.

And you make it so simple. No delicate emotional games with rules Kuroo never bothered to learn. No pretending to care how your day was. You untie the little bows on the side of your panties and lick your fingers and Kuroo just has to take his dick out and watch you. Getting off hasn’t been this easy for him since college. You’re a camgirl, you exist on his computer screen, and that’s how he likes it.

Which makes it a lot more awkward when Kuroo finds out that the only woman he’s gotten off to in the past…year, maybe?…somehow just got hired in JVA’s sports promotion department as his junior associate.

Your prim work blouse is buttoned up to the collar and your makeup is different, but he knows it’s you. You have to tell him your name twice because he’s too stunned to respond the first time, and even then he can’t summon up more of a response than a curt nod because his mouth tastes like dirt.

You smile a little awkwardly at his cool reception, and the hand you’d extended out to shake swings back down to your side. “Um, the guy at HR said he sent up my info yesterday…I’ll be working directly underneath you?”

Directly underneath me. Kuroo is taking a sip of his coffee when you say this. He doesn’t spit it out, but it’s close.

[therewasatale]

there was only one couch

On Ao3.

Summary:  Sleepy Alucard. Tired Anderson. And two other iscariot.

Note:  I wanted to end the year with a fluff Andercard fic. Happy Holidays!

The forest surrounded the small town. It was usually a quiet place away from the main road mainly visited by hikers and outdoorsman. In winter, the snow-white landscape attracted many, both to hike and to sleigh the slopes.

Now, however, the land was under the authority of autumn, and the small town became quiet. Its residents have been terrorized into silence by some creature. Some said wolves were in the area, while others suspected one or more bear. No sane person would have had thought it was a supernatural being. Those who fell prey to the creature never seen what's got to them.

Thick black clouds spread over the sky bringing heavy rain with them. The wind gave forewarning well enough, leaves danced and dropped from the branches as the crowns of the trees shook. A deep rumble reverberated through the clouds, and raindrops found their way between the leaves of the canopy turning the forest floor into a muddy mess.

The storm struck with full force before they could reach their shelter. The quiet guesthouse was located on the outskirts of the city, right next to the tourist track. After a few steps, one could have found themselves under the trees. Now, three figures were trudging out the forest following the path straight towards one of the buildings.

They had to pay attention to their steps, the road was uneven its recesses got filled by rain and it was impossible to see how deep a puddle was. All three got soaked to their very bones and their footsteps created deep gashes in the mud.

Finally, as the door closed behind them, the icy rain became a distant problem, and they were finally able to catch their breath.

"I'm going to take a bath."

"All right, but after that we need to take care of your arm. That wound needs to be cleaned."

"I can handle it myself, Father."

"Heinkel."

She was too tired to object. As she walked towards the tiny bathroom she just gestured backwards. "Fine, fine. Yumie, don't rub mud into bedsheet."

"Amongst the two of us, you're the one who is absolutely filthy."

With a snort, the bath door closed, and they could hear the water starting to flow.

"I'll be in our room and find the first aid kit." Yumie glanced towards the priest. "I have to clean this." She raised her katana and headed towards the hallway leading to their room.

"All right. Nice work, Yumiko." Anderson didn't see her face, but somehow, he was pretty sure she was smiling. In any case, her steps seemed lighter than before.

Father Anderson turned up the thermostat in the room, stepped out of his sopping shoes, and hung up his torn coat. Every part of his body felt numb from either the fatigue or the cold.

He walked inside to the living room, every step heavy and felt his wet clothes clinging to his body with each movement. Reaching the pull-out couch, he lit up the table lamp next to it, then sat down on the edge taking a slow breath.

He hadn't felt this tired in a very long time.

Leaning forward, he put his elbows on his legs and listened to the rain knocking on the windows in the dim light.

Those heavy drops haven’t sounded nearly as uncomfortable as they were when they landed on his head and body. He couldn't really catch a cold, his body healed too fast for it, but he never liked the dampness. And, he was worried about his disciples.

He clasped his hands and leaned his forehead against it, sighing slowly. In front of his closed eyes, he saw Yumie being slammed into a tree and the katana fell out of her hand. Then Heinkel, as she tried to protect the two of them, and the bullets slamming into his shoulder. Even now, he felt the wrath burning inside his soul.

They were given incorrect information, there was more than one vampire waiting for them in the depths of the forest. Their only luck was that they were not the only ones to notice the attacks and disappearances around the city. And that fact that the area was considered a border territory.

Anderson felt his head becoming heavy, and he had to steady himself by leaning on his knee again and again. He may be asleep soon, but before that he had to make sure his disciples were all right. He was on a verge of failing to protect them. The bitter thought dragged him back into wakefulness. His fingers sank into his skin, and he could feel his shoulder tighten, exhaustion slowly, but surely washed away his energy.

The warmth of the room surrounded him and clung into his limbs, letting the tired feeling drag him under. It was becoming harder and harder to resist.

He had to shape his thoughts over and over again so he could follow them to the very end.

Heinkel will finish soon. That wound needs to be taken care of. Then Yumie will take a bath, and finally he will have his turn. And after all of that, he can finally let himself succumb to sleep.

He took a deep breath and concentrated on the sound of raindrops. It was as if they wanted to fall forever. But at least he wasn't cold anymore.

Now the forest was cleared, everyone was safe. By now, that damned bloodsucker is on his way home for his master.

Anderson's fingers trembled again, not noticing the approaching footsteps.

"Hey, Father?" Heinkel gently touched the man's shoulder.

"Hm? Are you ready?" The priest flinched, then composed himself and squinting at his disciple. She was wearing a white top now and a fresh pair of pants. Under the former one could see the fresh bandage on her shoulder.

"Yeah, Yumie took care of it. So, the bath is yours, just don't fall asleep there."

"I did not sleep." He lied as his pride recovered for a moment.

"Of course you didn’t. You always snore when you are awake." Heinkel suppressed a smile. "I leave for my room, good night, Father."

"All right. Good night to you too." Anderson glanced after his student and then sauntered into the bathroom.

He was awake for at least five days by now.

After he arrived home from an assignment to the orphanage, he immediately got the next one. The one behind him was a simple one, but he still had to follow the vampire's trail all night long and was unable to sleep on the way home. And it was the same for this one too, and then of course during the fight. The days and nights blurred together, and he gave up following the passage of time.

The water woke him up enough so he could wash away all the blood and mud. He couldn't let himself stand under the shower for too long because he was afraid he would really fall asleep in the warm. So when he felt like all of his body were properly warmed through, he turned off the water and reluctantly stepped out of the shower. He put on clean clothes and walked to the couch, hair still wet and then collapsed on it.

The apartment they occupied came with two rooms, but the kitchen and bathroom were shared. Originally, only he and Heinkel would have come, but Yumie wanted to join no matter what.

Thinking about it, they were lucky that she was here too.

The priest laid down on his back on the pulled-out couch. No matter how he positioned himself, either his head wasn’t comfortable, or his feet was hanging in the air. He was already used to this kind of thing, in eight out of ten places he ever slept, either the bed was too small, or the blanket they provided.

He had to reside himself in much worse places than this one, it helped that he always reminded himself that he could return home soon. To his own room and his own bed.

The quiet footsteps approaching the door pulled him away from the edge of sleep. The priest's eyes opened, and even though the desk lamp wasn’t on, - he didn't remember exactly when he flicked it off - his eyes were so used to the darkness that he could make out the outline of the figure.

"What in God's name do you want?" He restrained his voice since he didn't want to wake up his students, but he could already feel the grip of his bayonet in the palm of his hand. He was about to draw it out when his guest simply laid down on the couch. Right next to him. "Hey-"

"Shush, I'm tired." Alucard snuggled closer and buried his face into the priest's neck.

Anderson shuddered. "What the hell are you doing? Why are you here?"

"Mh."

"Bloodsucker?" Anderson hissed as his embarrassment overcame him for a moment. Meetings between them sometimes did ended in a similar way, but only if it was just the two of them.

"Hm?"

"What do you want?"

"Sleep." Alucard's voice was sounded thoroughly tired.

"But why here?" The blade disappeared into his clothes. "Why on me? You're heavy." His fingers touched the vampire's coat and he shuddered reluctantly. "And wet." Alucard was about to answer, but the priest was faster than him. "Shut up."

The vampire chuckled gently. "I'm sorry, I'll dry up, I promise." He almost purred as he squirmed gently even closer to rest his head on the priest's shoulder. "And because you're comfortable. And London is far, far away."

Anderson snorted a lot and blew a couple of stray strands of hairs out of his face. "How can you even be tired?"

"I would remind you that my head was cut off at least three times, and one of them was due to your student. Besides, controlling Baskervill is exhausting. I've been fighting so many opponents for such long time while I had to defend others."

Anderson glared into the vampire's gleaming red eyes for a few moments. "It was a clean cut."

"Yes, yes it was." Alucard gave a kiss on the priest's cheek. "Although she still has a lot to learn."

"And this comes from a vampire." The man rolled his eyes and sighed and put his hand on the vampire's back. "Then sleep, but you better not be here by the time they wake up." He slowly began to draw circles with his fingers, and for once it didn't even bother him when he heard the vampire chuckle.

"You should sleep as well; you can pick a fight with me tomorrow."

"Don’t worry, I will." Anderson let out a yawn and shivered softly as he felt the vampire's lips on his face. "And thank you."

Alucard chuckled deeply, yet warmly. "I know how worried you are about your kids." He put another kiss on the priest's face before he could say anything. "But next time, we should ask for a room with a bigger bed."

"Good night, bloodsucker." He murmured and he could still hear the vampire chuckle as he fell asleep with a small smile on his face.

 The rain slowly rolled away, and the sky seemed to clear outside. Dawn gradually replaced the evening and twilight filled the forest, struggling its way through the canopy.

Heinkel placed the glass on the edge of the bed and slid back under the warm blanket. As much as she tried to be careful, Yumie opened her eyes a little.

"Hm? What?" She had always been a light sleeper and woke up to any small noise since she was a child.

"I just went out for a glass of water." Heinkel slowly combed her thick black hair with her fingers. "Just sleep, we still have time. I will fall back asleep soon enough too."

The response was a small yawn and Yumiko turned to her side under the blanket. Their legs were still touching. Her slow breathing filled the room.

Heinkel looked at the ceiling, then glanced toward the door beyond which their teacher was sleeping.

When she entered the kitchen, she didn't notice the other figure, only the red coat hanging over the side of the couch. She watched the two for long seconds trying to figure out what to do.

But first, she tried to figure out if should she even be doing anything. She listened to the soft breathing from them. They slept side by side in complete relaxation, and perhaps that was the reason she decided to walk back into the room silently.

So far, nothing has made sense. She didn't even know where to begin with gathering and making sense of her thoughts. Everything felt like a mess. And then there was the bullet wound on her shoulder.

So, Heinkel turned to her side, making sure of her shoulder was safe, and decided to leave the problem to morning-Heinkel.

For now, everybody deserved a few hours of sleep.

[sw124]

BonelyHearts Reader Insert

{Female!ReaderXSkeleton household}

Camping! Pt.1

It was nippy outside, no question there. But you couldn’t beat the sheer beauty of it all. The field was vast and filled with rolling hills turning the loveliest shades of tan from the upcoming winter season. There was not a tree for miles around. You stretched your arms back, breathing in that beautiful air, it was so crisp it would put an apple’s skin to shame. You let out a long breath, watching it curl into its own cloud before quickly dissipating.

“So pretty here...” you whispered to yourself.

“Human! Have you found a spot yet?!”

You turn to see your gaggle of skeleton friends all unloading things from the van, you smile and wave to Papyrus.

“One sec ok I think I found a great spot for us all!”

Happily you half-jogged down the little hill you were standing on and scoped out a nice spot, it was flat and void of twigs and leaves. You stamped the ground to be sure there weren’t any spots waterlogged from rain, but no the ground was perfectly dry and level.

Back up the hill you run and call out. “Guys over here, I found the perfect spot!”

Back down you raced and skipped around the spot, the first skeleton over the hill was Blue with the picnic table; a perfect sign that this spot is claimed by someone. Blue hands you the table and you set it up, he runs back over the hill. The next skeleton to come over the hill is Papyrus with some of the chairs, all neatly marked with everyone’s name on the back of each unique chair, including yours.

You take them and set them up in a line; to both keep them out of the way and to let everyone choose where they’d like to sit when things get ready. Boss and Ash were the next couple of skeletons over the hill bringing the tents. Poplar was close behind carrying some bags, Nox and Rus were the next two over the threshold carrying two large boxes.

You rushed back up the hill to the van and met up with Red and Sans who were digging stuff out of the van. You came up and collected what they just took out and went back to the spot, you set the things down and went back for more. Stretch passed you carrying some of the sleeping bags. You couldn’t help but imagine everyone plus yourself as a bunch of worker ants. You were the one to get the last of the things, the box labeled ‘plates, utensils and cleanup’.

You just reached over the crest of the hill, you watched as Boss and Papyrus began laying out the tarps for some of the tents while Nox and Blue set up the canopy tent, Stretch and Rus were getting the sleeping bags sorted out. Of course Sans was already napping in his chair, you walked over to Ash, Poplar and Red who were getting the portable fire pit ready. You set the things down and grabbed a bucket nearby, you turned to the skeletons.

“I’m gonna go get some water and firewood!”

“Wait human!” You paused as Papyrus walked up to you...Sans neatly tucked under one arm. “Take Sans with you, he needs to do something productive instead of lazing about!”

Sans gave you shrug after Papyrus sat him down, you smile and take his hand.

“Its not that far, lets go lazy bones.” You just had to giggle seeing the blush form on his face.

You and Sans didn’t have far to walk, the communal area was at least just a yard away. You paid for fire wood, making sure to have extra just in case also filling the bucket up with water. You told Sans to teleport the wood back to the campsite you’d be fine walking back with the bucket.

“Actually, I got a better idea.” Taking your hand and in a blink of an eye, the both of you were back at the campsite, firewood and water in hand.

“Ah you’re back! That was quick!” Papyrus took the bucket from you as Sans sat the fire wood down by Red.

“The hell- I don’t know how to start a damn fire, why you putting it by me?” Red growled.

“Well someone’s gotta know, other wise we’re gonna be ‘burned out’ by the end of this.” Sans chuckled, a echo of groans is heard.

You took the initiative, while Sans and Red went back and forth you began setting things up for the fire. Ash and Poplar watched, you balled up some dry-dead grass and layered some small twigs on it. Taking out a lighter you packed you lite the grass, after you got the smaller fire going you started layering on the wood. In a matter of a few minutes you had a nice fire all set.

“Fires ready.” You said, you felt a little proud seeing everyone’s expressions.

“Anything else that needs to be done?” You asked, surveying the layout.

“If you could set up the cooking station under the canopy that would be nice.” Said Poplar, Ash helping him stand up.

Nodding you went to the canopy and start unpacking, you unpacked the snacks first but kept the perishables like the fish inside the cooler along with the vegetables. You took out a large pot, pasta, ramen and other things and set them on a separate fold-out table; preparations for tonight’s dinner. You had just set out the last of the snacks when you heard Nox curse, you look to see him knelt down by a peg and holding his hand.

“Nox, you ok?” You walk over.

“I’m fine, I just caught the side of my hand with the hammer.”

You were quick to take his hand and inspect it, a habit of yours whenever someone had gotten an injury no matter how minor it was. Nox grumbles but doesn’t take his hand away, you gently rub his hand between yours to sooth the wound before standing back up. Giving him a sweet smile, was it your imagination or was he blushing.

“I’m setting up some snacks for when you boys are done, drinks too; I’ll let you know when there done.” You left before he could give you a reply, you had a task to complete.

You arranged the small snack bags into two groups, one side was for the shorter skeletons the other for the taller skeletons. Of course it had everyone’s name written on the baggies but this just made it simpler. Next were the drinks, coco and coffee. You took great pains to make sure the coffee was just right too, you brought a special hand grinder for the coffee beans.

The coco you decided was going to be just as special, you were going to make it just like how your parents did back when you were really small. As you were finishing everything up, something caught your attention. You turned and saw at least a few yards away a giant RV party bus pull in, it was blaring popular club music, you could feel the ground vibrating from it. You wrinkled your nose a little, the smug oozing off the thing was almost too much. You tried to tell yourself it might just be a family and their kids put the music on loud as a joke.....you were dead wrong. The people that stepped out were four young men. You wrinkled your nose again, everyone else around the campground were either elderly/young couples or families. Not these wannabe campers...

You turned back to your task, just ignore them and things would be fine. You took the pot of hot coco and poured them into some mugs, next was the coffee and whatever the boys put in their coffee. You basically memorized everything these boys put in their drinks. You had just finished pouring the last cup when you heard Papyrus’s triumphant laugh. You turn to find a rather impressive sight, three tents but they were all connected with small extension tunnels, length maybe a single meter?

“Whoa...” you whispered.

You had two large tents sandwiching a slightly smaller one in the middle, you walked over and marveled at them. Papyrus walked over, his hand proudly placed on his hips and chest puffed high.

“Yes a magnificent sight indeed human! A friend of ours lent this to us, the tent on the left over here is where I, Boss, Poplar, Rus and Stretch will sleep. Our brothers will be in the tent on the far right and you will have the center tent!”

You blinked, the center tent was yours? You unzipped the front and looked inside, for goodness sake the center tent could fit five fully grown adults it was so huge! It had pockets to fit your phone too, you looked to and saw two opening ‘doorways’? Tentways? Whatever it was called you looked inside and goodness both sides were massive, but then again it probably was for the best since they were fitting five tall skeletons...and five short ones. Thankfully you found you could zip up both sides for privacy.

“What do you think human?” Asked Papyrus.

“Really amazing!” You couldn’t lie, this was impressive.

“Nyeheheh! Thank you human!”

“Well I’m glad your done cause I’ve just finish setting up the kitchen and have some hot drinks and snacks ready.”

You turned to get the drinks as Papyrus called everyone together, the skeletons all propped their chairs around the fire as you passed out their snacks, coco and coffee. You made yourself a cup of warm butterfly pea tea and sat down in your own chair. Rus softly blew across the top of his coco to cool it down before taking a sip of it, you smiled seeing his eyes light up.

“W-Wow...did you buy a new coco brand?” Rus looked at you, stars dancing in his eyes.

“No, I just made coco the way my parents did. No instant coco or coffee for this camping trip!” You giggle.

Ash smiled wildly as he tasted his coco along with his brother, Nox was inspecting his coffee, inhaling its steam to be sure you did a proper job in preparing his drink. You slyly rolled your eyes but didn’t hold it against him, good coffee is hard to come by or make right. Stretch though was not as picky and spoke up.

“Heeeeey this is pretty good, you sure you didn’t use the instant stuff?”

You knew he was poking fun at you but shook your head, you turned back to Nox, you caught a glimpse of his eyes going wide before returning to normal...followed by a fox like grin.

“Well my dear you certainly have been paying attention to my lessons on coffee haven’t you?” He purred.

“Yes, even I must admit you do have a way with making a good cup of coffee.” Replied Boss sipping his own cup.

Blue, much like Rus had stars dancing in his eyes, if the coffee was a little more cooler he might have chugged his entire mug down in a single go but it was still nice and hot so he had no choice but to sip. Red seemed to be restraining himself from downing his own cup as well. Papyrus and Sans were the last to speak up.

“Wowie human this is truly amazing!”

“Yeah, what did you buy?” Asked Sans, looking into his cup.

You smiled. “If you really want to know, I used milk, butter, sugar and coco powder all mixed together in a small cooking pot. My parents would make that kind of coco all the time in winter when I was really little, when I heard we were going camping I thought I’d share it with you guys.”

“Thats really nice...” said Ash, you smile at him...you were making a lot of skeletons blush today.

Papyrus spoke up next.

“So human, what shall we do now that we’re set up?”

[To be continued..]

[A fanfic reader insert for the fan-game @bonelyheartsclub I hope you enjoy and I will be planning more in the future with gender neutral or male centered readers, I hope you enjoy. Also I kinda guessed on what drinks the boys would like so don’t rag on me about getting drink choices mixed up ok? I’ll make corrections when I learn more about the boys]

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Try Again (Cordelia Goode x Reader)

Synopsis: You’re having trouble sleeping because of a certain witch.

Words: 1940

Warnings: none

**GIF not mine**

Dappled sunlight filtered through the window, the old sycamore tree swaying in the breeze. You stood at the kitchen counter, cup of tea clasped in your hands, shawl wrapped tight around your shoulders. The old house creaked above you, the sleepy silence setting in around you like an old worn blanket. You watched a raven hop on the green grass, it’s head tilting at something you couldn’t see.

“You’re up early.”

You turned your head slightly, not able to see the blonde witch in the doorway but acknowledging her presence. You let out a long breath, a mixture of contentment and excitement settling in your belly.

A soft hand grasped your shoulder and you turned, leaning back against the counter. Cordelia, pale skin, blonde hair, and beautiful brown eyes, was looking down at you, smile on her pretty pink lips. She cupped your cheek, a thumb running over the dark circle under your eye.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Your voice was soft, almost a whisper. She lent forwards, looking in your eyes, brushing your hair behind your ear. You shivered, tilting your chin up to give her a better look, to better gauge your state.

“Nightmares?” she asked. You shook your head.

“Too many thoughts.”

Which was mostly true. Too many thoughts were clouding your brain, making sleep an impossible fantasy, much like the thoughts running through your head. Images of Cordelia hadn’t been leaving your mind all night. Images of her in the warm sunlight, of her with her hands buried in soil in the greenhouse, of her sitting at her desk with that welcoming smile on her face. You hadn’t been able to get rid of them. It was like a sweet kind of torture,

“Would you like the day off to catch up on your sleep?” she asked, her thumb still running over the dark circle.

“I’d rather keep busy,” you replied.

“I could use some help in the greenhouse,” she said, “that should keep you busy.”

She offered you a smile and despite the way your stomach clenched you smiled in return.

“Is there any more of this?” Her fingertips brushed against your knuckles and you looked down at the mug in your hands.

“In the teapot,” you said.

She turned away from you, her skirt swirling around her calves. With graceful actions you’d never quite managed to emulate she reached up to the cupboard above her head. She poured herself a cup of the tea, steam swirling up around her hands. You turned away from her, looking out the window again. The raven was still on the lawn, staring through the window at you.

“I see Edgar is here.” Cordelia’s arm brushed against yours as she stepped up to the window.

“Edgar?” You kept your eyes trained on the bird.

“He’s here every morning. I thought I should give him a name,” she said, “I know it’s cliched but it made me smile.”

“No I like it,” you said hurriedly. You glanced up at her to find her already smiling at you. She nudged you with her elbow.

“I’m going to go get started. You might want to get dressed.”

And just like that she was gone in a waft of perfume that curled around you. You took a shuddering breath in before steeling yourself. You poured the rest of your tea down the drain and left the cup in the sink.

When you entered the greenhouse half an hour later Cordelia had her back to you, her nose buried in a bud of a flower. You coughed. She turned, a smile already there to answer your questioning look. A dark swath of dirt was on her cheek, clinging to her peachy skin.

“Are any of the girls up yet?” she asked.

“I thought I heard Zoe stirring and Mallory was looking for a book when I passed by. I think Queenie might have it,” you replied with a small smile.

“Did you tell her that?” she asked, quirking an amused eyebrow at you.

“I suggested she ask the other girls,” you replied with a shrug.

She chuckled, turning back to her work. You came up beside her, watching her sure hands repot the flower in one of the painted ceramic planters gifted by one of the girls. You felt your face flush at the way her fingers curled around the roots of the flower, protecting it with her cupped hand.

“There are some vials over there,” she said, vaguely gesturing to one of the side benches, “can you bring all of them over here?”

It took a couple of trips but you managed to bring the thirty or so vials to the bench she was working at. Her fingers were plucking leaves from one of the plants, crushing them between thumb and forefinger to release the scent into the air. She took your hand as it released the final vials, her thumb running over the skin of the back of your hand.

“Thank you for the help,” she said.

“Anything for you.”

Her answering smile was as bright as the sun, filling you with just as much warmth.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to earn so much loyalty,” she said.

“You’re the Supreme,” you replied, your cheeks growing warm under her scrutiny.

“Plenty if people wouldn’t do anything for their Supreme,” she said, “many wouldn’t do anything for my mother.”

“You’re not your mother,” you replied.

“I should hope not.” She laughed, tipping her head back. You gave her a hesitant smile. She pressed your palm to her cheek. Your thumb, without thought, brushed the dirt from her skin. Her eyes sparkled and a hint of pink tinged the skin under your hand.

“What thoughts were keeping you up?” she asked.

“They’re not important.” You shook your head, your hand slipping from her face. Her fingers twitched but she let you take a step back.

“I’d like to help. If you’d let me,” she said.

Her face was a picture of earnestness. Your eyes skittered down, not wanting her to see in your eyes the exact thoughts that were that kept you up at night. The way that her room being close enough to yours that you could hear her in the evenings made you burn from the inside out. The way that with a brush of her fingers she could turn you breathless. The way you were panting for praise from her lips.

The way you dreamt about kissing those lips.

“What did you need help with?” you asked instead of giving her a proper response.

You looked down, playing with a fallen petal, velvet against your skin. You squeezed it, feeling the give against your fingers, the way your skin grew damp.

You didn’t hear Cordelia walk to your side of the bench but when her fingers circled your wrist you took a sharp inhalation of breath. The petal fell from your fingers, fluttering to the floor. You looked up into her brown eyes, feeling your mouth fall open. You bit down on your lower lip. Her eyes darkened.

“I want to help,” she murmured.

You grasped her face, pulling her to you. Your lips crashed into hers, harsh and demanding. She froze and you pushed her away before fleeing from the greenhouse.

You stayed locked in your room for the rest of the day, watching as the sun rose then fell, the light fading around you sitting on the bed, staring out the window. You could hear the girls through the walls, laughing, talking, shouting. But none were the one woman who was stuck in your brain.

You fell back, staring up at the canopy above your bed. Running through your head were a series of beratements, telling you everything you had done wrong since arriving at the Academy. You already had half a plan to leave this place to keep your shame buried deep inside.

You didn’t hear the knock on your door, your thoughts too loud to be able to hear anything but your heart beating hard in your ears. You missed the door creaking open and soft footfalls making their way towards you.

A soft hand brushed the hair back from your face and your eyes snapped open. You hurried to sit up, your hands scrabbling on the comforter. You pushed yourself back from the woman standing before your bed. She sat, as elegant as always, blonde hair grey in the moonlight.

“Cordelia,” you breathed, wiping a tear from your face, “what are you doing here?”

“I think we have some talking to do,” she said, a sad smile on her face.

“We can just forget about it. It’s fine. In fact I’d prefer if we did. We never have to talk about this ever,” you said, a desperation clinging to you tight. If everyone involved could just forget about it then it would be like nothing had happened.

“I would like to talk about it,” she said, putting a stop to all the arguments on your tongue.

You averted your eyes from her, closing your mouth, giving her the option to continue.

“You caught me by surprise earlier,” she said, “I wish you hadn’t.”

It was like you’d been doused in a bath of cold water, your body going numb. You didn’t need her telling you she didn’t feel the same way. It was obvious enough to you. It would have been better if she had allowed you to ignore it. You jerked back from her.

“If I’d been more prepared I could have kissed you back the way I wanted to,” she said.

You dragged your eyes up to her. She was looking at you with an intensity you were unused to. Your breath shuddered in your lungs, stopping as one of her hands reached out to you. She cupped your cheek but you remained frozen, back pressed against the headboard.

“Can I try again?” she asked.

“I don’t know what you want. I don’t understand.” You shook your head, your eyes slipping away from her again.

“I have feelings for you. More than that, I’ve fallen in love with you. I hoped you felt the same way but I wasn’t willing to say anything until you did. I didn’t want my position, my power, to influence you,” she said.

“So you let me think you had no feelings for me?” you asked.

“I tried to show you in my own way,” she said, “but I hoped you’d come talk to me.”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you replied.

She gave a short dry chuckle. Looking up, you saw there was no humour in her. Her thumb ran over the apple of your cheek.

“It looks that in trying to look after each other all we’ve managed to do is hurt each other,” she said.

“You can try again.”

A smile broke out on her face. She drew closer, hovering a hair 's breadth away from your lips, her breath ghosting over your skin. You shivered, closing your eyes.

Her lips were soft against yours, but sure. You surged forward, wrapping your arms around her neck, pressing yourself to her, any semblance of self control gone. She kissed you deeper, hungrier, consuming you. Her hand pressed to the small of your back, keeping you close to her.

She pulled back, pressing her forehead to yours. Her eyes were closed and her breathing heavy but her lips were smiling.

“How about you try again?” you murmured.

“Was it not good enough for you?” she asked, her eyes blinking open.

“Much too short,” you replied.

A smile broke over her face before you kissed her again.

[ariana-winchester95]

Jack in the Box || Chapter 2 

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: Vmin trying to convince themselves that this is a good idea.

Prev/Next

The pair stood in front of the white metal gate, warning signs chained to the gate, accompanied by thick chains padlocked. High, dark bricked walls set the perimeter of the grounds. Too high for the pair to jump over, giving Jimin and Taehyung no other choice but to climb over the gate. Beyond the gate, a concrete path, surrounded by tightly packed trees and shrubs, red and orange leaves covering the path. The full moon, high in the sky, casted an eerie glow through patches in the trees and illuminating the fine misty fog, resting beneath the canopies, adding to the eerie setting.

Jimin could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he started to fidget with the sleeve of his flannel jacket. Swallowing thickly as he felt an uneasy wave filter through his body, his wide eyes took in their surroundings before glancing up at Taehyung, who looked unnervingly calm. Gentle puffs of breath through parted lips filled the air in puffs of soft, white smoke in the cool autumn air.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“You don’t actually believe his story, do you, Jimin?”

Taehyung would never admit it, he believed the story. Believed that there is such a demon trapped in the basement and there really was a hunter called Samuel Colt. He believed everything.

“Not really, but I can’t help but wander, what if, you know?”

There were many what if’s floating around within Jimin’s mind. What if it's all true? What if we open the box and let it out? What if it tries everything in its power to scare us? What if we don’t make it the whole night? Nothing would be able to settle his mind and his incredibly beating fast heart to rest until morning comes. What if tomorrow never comes?

“He was just saying it because it was the perfect opportunity to scare the pants off Jin hyung.”

As Taehyung said those words, he could not deny the thumping in his chest nor how scared he was inside, but he put on a brave face, someone has too, Jimin was scared enough. So Taehyung pretended to even the balance between them.

“Maybe.” Jimin muttered, as he picked at his sweater.

“Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Jimin gasped as Taehyung moved forward, throwing the duffel bag over the rickety gate first, watching as he started to climb over the gate. The metal groaning under Taehyung’s weight. The clanking echoing in the almost silent night. Jimin was in awe as Taehyung easily and gracefully swung a leg over the top, finding his footing and swinging the other leg over before landing on the concrete with a thump. The gate rattled angrily as Taehyung jumped off, causing Jimin to shrink into himself a little, hoping the noise didn't draw any unwanted attention to them.

“Okay, Jimin. Your turn.”

Taehyung guided Jimin through his previous steps to help the older over the gate. The metal groaned less under Jimin’s light weight as Taehyung kept a strong grasp on the bars to keep it steady. Once Jimin gracefully got over halfway, Taehyung directed Jimin where to place his feet. His eyes wandered up the long length of Jimin’s legs before landing on the thick swell of Jimin’s ass. He didn't mean to stare but with the tight black jeans Jimin had decided to wear, Taehyung couldn’t look away. A yelp brought Taehyung back to the eerie reality before surging forward to catch Jimin.

Jimin’s heart skipped a beat as his foot slipped on the metal causing him to yelp. He was sure he was going to fall on his ass, but a pair of arms caught him and pulled him tightly into a firm chest and warm breath caressing his ear. Taking a deep breath, Jimn turned his head and unwillingly let out a tiny gasp, finding Taehyung’s face as close to his and dark eyes boring into his own.

“You okay?”

Taehyung’s voice was deep yet soft, like he only wanted Jimin to hear him despite being the only two under the moonlight. Jimin’s own voice caught in his throat as he bit his plush lip, his heart hammering in his chest. He was sure that Taehyung’s eyes flicked to his lips, but he blinked and Taehyung’s eyes were focused on him again. Not trusting his voice, Jimin softly nodded. 

The pair didn’t move, continuing to stare into each other's eyes. Jimin caught Taehyung’s tongue running over his lips, making them glistening. He let out a tiny whimper at the sight before there was a significant gap between them with a blink of the eye. Jimin felt a pang in his chest as he swallowed thickly.

“Let’s,” Taehyung cleared his throat before continuing, “let’s go.”

Jimin inhaled deeply through his nose before letting it puff out in a cloud of white smoke with an even deeper sigh. Ignoring the feeling bubbling in his chest, picking up the forgotten duffel bag and securing it over his shoulder, Jimin stepped forward and followed Taehyung a few paces behind him. Wrapping his arms around himself, Jimin cautiously looked around. The moonlight twinkled through the branches, leaves crunching echoed through the night with each step. It wasn’t long before Jimin’s gaze landed on Taehyung.

Taehyung walked calmly, or so it seemed to Jimin. Taehyung’s hands were shaking deep within the pockets of his pants, his heart pounding in his chest. Taehyung was scared to death but he put on a brave face and willed himself to remain calm on the outside, for Jimin’s sake. Though, he couldn't control how he jumped at the sudden loud barking nearby before sighing a breath of relief upon realising it was just a dog.

Jimin had missed how Taehyung visibly jumped, he had shrieked hearing the dog’s bark’s causing Jimin to run forward, seeking Taehyung. Jimin gripped the others’ leather clad arm tightly, his side completely pressed against Taehyung.

“Tae, I’m scared.”

Any would be able to feel how Jimin’s body shook against Taehyung’s side, hear how his voice wavered as he spoke. He was sure that if the night were any more silent, you could hear his violently beating heart. His eyes now darted all over, fearing that there would be something lurking to jump out at them as they continued walking down the leafy, dirt track.

“It’ll be okay. As long as we stay together, we’ll be fine.” Jimin repeated Taehyung’s words over and over in his head as they walked closer to the entrance of the hospital. As long as we stay together, we’ll be fine. Jimin truly wanted to believe that they’ll be fine, even as the cold shiver ran down his spine as the abandoned concrete building came into sight.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Hi babe 🥰

Happy Valentine’s Day! 💕

Si, i gotta ask. How do you think Dettlaff would celebrate Valentine’s Day with his SO/reader?

A/N: I saw my chance to answer another ask so I took it!

***

You gently tugged at the blankets that covered Dettlaff’s sleeping form. 

“Dettlaff.” You sing-songed his name, a little smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

The Higher Vampire groaned, readjusting the pillows that he had stuffed beneath his head, and tucked his nose into their warmth. 

You pulled away three different blankets from him, pulling them down to expose his bare shoulders to the cold air of the room. You moved from the foot of the bed to his side, your fingers trailing like feathers along his spine. 

“Come on, darling. You’ve been sleeping for three hours.”

 He shivered beneath your touch, your warm fingers a stark contrast to his chilly skin. 

“Lay down with me for just a moment, my love.” His words were muffled by the pillows but you could understand him just fine. 

“Now you know that isn’t a good idea.” You propped one knee up on the edge of the bed and leaned down to kiss the space behind his ear. “Then we’d never get out of bed.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”

“No, but everyone will be here shortly for dinner.”

Finally understanding that he couldn’t stay in bed with you for the rest of the night, Dettlaff let out a heavy sigh and rolled over onto his back. He looked up at you for a few moments, icy blue eyes inspecting your features. 

“How many of them are coming? Just Regis and Orianna, I hope.”

“Well, they are coming. But so is Geralt and Yennefer, and Lambert and Aiden. Eskel is bringing someone too, though I haven’t met them yet.”

“You know, I think it would’ve been lovely if we had just made plans for ourselves and no one else.” His hand came up to cup your face.

“We can make plans for ourselves any other night of the year. Tonight, we can spend time with friends.” You leaned down to kiss his chest just above his heart. 

“We can make plans for friends any other night of the year.” He muttered. His hand trailed around to the back of your head, long and slender fingers carding through your hair. 

“Dettlaff.” You sighed softly. “You were excited about it when we put the plans together two weeks ago.”

“That was two weeks ago.”

“I should know better by now. My lovely introvert.” You teased as you leaned forward once more to kiss him. 

“You really should. You’d think you’d learn your lesson after spending half a decade with me.”

You were glad to see he was in a good mood. Hopefully that meant this evening would go over smoothly. 

“Come on.” You patted his chest and slipped out of the bed. “We’re going to go for a little walk before anyone gets here just so we can have some time to ourselves. I’ll be leaving a note on the table should anyone arrive early.”

“Regis.” Dettlaff grumbled as he sat up.

“He does like being punctual.”

***

The moon hung high in the sky, shining down through the thick tree canopies. 

Dettlaff walked alongside you, your arms woven together as you leaned into him. 

“I think it will be fun.” You thought out loud.

“What will?” He turned his head to look at you.

“Spending the night with friends. Well, they’re practically family, aren’t they?”

“You could say that.” Dettlaff nodded. “Though I think it would’ve been wiser to spend Valentine’s night with you alone in our home than crowded around a table with a bunch of loud dogs.”

“Hindsight is 20/20.” You giggled. “Don’t worry, darling. You’ll have plenty of time after they leave to spend alone with me.”

He grumbled something incoherent under his breath. 

“I do appreciate you agreeing to this, Dettlaff.” You came to a stop and turned to face him. “I know crowds aren’t your favorite and you aren’t one for socializing. It means a lot to me that you suggested we do something like this tonight.”

His blue eyes stayed on you as his hand came up to brush a stray piece of hair behind your ear. 

“I know how much you enjoy their company. And I’m willing to sacrifice my sanity for a few hours to see you happy.”

You smiled.

“But that isn’t my only gift for you. I do have something else.” He dug his hand into the pocket of his coat. “Can I see your wrist please?”

“Which one?”

“Either one.”

You gave him your left, watching as he clasped a silver bracelet around your wrist. Before letting you go, he brought your wrist to his mouth, pressing a tender kiss to the veins on the underside of your wrist. 

“It isn’t much, but it made me think of you when I saw it.” He explained, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Well, not exactly you. I-I thought that it would remind you of me. I know I’m not always around. Sometimes I’m gone with Regis and other times I’m just…. So I wanted you to have something that reminded you of me.”

You turned your wrist around, examining the piece of jewelry. There was a little bat charm on it that made you smile. 

“Dettlaff, it’s beautiful.”

“You like it?”

“I do.” You nodded, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and squeezing him tightly. “Thank you.”

He hugged you back, tucking his nose into your shoulder. 

“I have something for you too.” You pulled away, keeping one hand on his shoulder. “But it’s back home.”

“Let’s finish our walk and we can go back.” 

***

You led the way down the hall towards your shared bedroom with Dettlaff. 

He listened to the way your heart picked up pace, the way it changed from that of the flap of a butterflies wings to something more akin to a hummingbird. You were excited. 

You guided him over to the bed and gestured for him to sit.

“Stay here and close your eyes. I’ll go grab it. It’s in my study.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed, eyes following you as you left the room. 

“Are your eyes shut, Dettlaff?”

“Of course, my heart.” He answered, closing his eyes.

“Will you keep them shut?”

“Do you not trust me?” He teased.

“Don’t use any of your vampiric magic either.”

He grinned a little. Though his eyes were shut, he could still tell exactly where you were in the house. You were in the closet in your study, moving things around. You cursed a little and muttered under your breath about how cluttered things were. After a few moments, however, you were making your way back towards the bedroom. 

Dettlaff couldn’t figure out what it was that you were gifting him. It had no smell, no taste that tainted the air. It emitted no sound. He listened more carefully, but was dumbfounded. All the ideas that had been forming in his head were disappearing. 

“Darling, can I open-,”

���No.” You answered quickly, your voice sounding strained. “Keep them shut just-just a moment longer.”

It took all of the Higher Vampire’s self control to not open his eyes and see what it was that you had. But he didn’t want to upset you. He didn’t want to ruin your surprise. 

You grunted a little and there was a deep thunk. 

“Damn.” You cursed quietly.

“Is all well, my love?”

“Yes, yes. Just fine. You can open your eyes now.”

Dettlaff opened his eyes and instantly found you standing in front of him with a wide smile on your lips. Your hands were clasped together in front of you and you were messing with your fingers. 

“I know how frustrated you get when you can’t find a mirror that works for you.” Your voice was quiet and timid. You stepped aside to reveal a large square mirror leaning against the dresser behind you. “The ones I have here, they are made with silver. So I had one specially made for you.”

Dettlaff’s lips parted as he looked at the mirror, seeing his own reflection in the surface. He couldn’t find the words to express what was going through his head. 

Being that you weren’t sure how to take his silence, you continued to talk, your nervous ramblings getting the best of you.

“I know you like to get ready in the mornings with me and it puts quite a damper on the mood when you can’t see yourself. And-And you do take pride in your looks. You’re a dashing man-,”

“My heart?”

“Yes?”

“Come here.” He held his hand out for you.

You moved towards him, settling between his parted knees with your hands in his. 

“Thank you.” He kissed your knuckles. “That was very kind of you. And very expensive, I presume.”

“That doesn’t matter.” You shook your head, reaching one hand around to place it on the back of Dettlaff’s head. You pulled his head into your chest and kissed his hair. “I wanted to do something for you.”

“And all I got you was a little bracelet.”

“It isn’t a competition of who gave the most expensive gift, Dettlaff.” You reminded him, pulling away so you could get a better look at him. “I’ve been planning this for a while, and it just happened that I had the means for now.”

His eyes lingered on you, a little smile on his lips. 

“I am the luckiest creature alive, you know that right?”

“Oh, perhaps.” You grinned, giving him a chaste kiss. “I should go start dinner. I’m surprised Regis and Orianna-,”

A knock from the other room cut you off.

“You spoke too soon.” Dettlaff sighed. “It’s only Regis and Orianna. Hopefully the wolves are late.”

“Knowing them, they probably will be.” You moved towards the bedroom door. But at the last minute, you turned to look back at him. “I love you, Dettlaff.”

“I love you more, my heart.” 

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @mishafaye @whitewolfandthefox @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster @rubyqueen819 @omgkatinka @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @vonxcon @mazakeen @bravelittlesunflower @thereagles @awkward-turtles-world @menalliha @cotton_mo @maan24 @thefirelordm @monkeymo @krenee1drful @nympha-door-a @unadulteratedtreecrusade @Aquarius-pisces-rose @mentallyscreamingsincebirth @fl0ating @sometimesiwrite @you-fxcking-wish-bish @thanks-bruh-for-nothing @maan2442 @thegaydeath @creatingstuffinpeace @wellthisstinks @andyrazzledazzle @ameliasmistake @winterwolf @caraqas @bluscryn

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[alwaysbeliev]

Snapdragons

happy (very belated) Valentine’s Day, @the-awkward-outlaw ! i hope you enjoy this!

summary:  Arthur Morgan has never been very good at talking about his thoughts and feelings. He finds it much easier to show them, and he hopes he's doing it the right way.

relationship: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

word count: 1838

link on AO3

The First

Sunlight filtered delicately through the trees in the early morning. Birds chirped somewhere above, hidden among the flourishing summer canopy, a shadow dashing here and there between the branches. A squirrel scurried around roots on the forest floor, pausing only to dig at a spot and sniff before deciding it was fruitless and moving on. 

You idly watched them, bundled in your coat as you stood by the morning campfire, holding a tin cup of coffee in your hands. The heat had pierced through the metal and was warming your cold hands. In slow, deep breaths, you inhaled the fumes, grateful for the steam that wafted upwards. It would be another hour before the air truly started to warm up.

Most of the camp was stirring now. You heard the rustling of Pearson at his wagon as he dug through the cart in search of ingredients. Jack emerged from his family’s tent, Abigail’s voice trailing after him in kind fashion, followed by a grunt from John. Miss O’Shea was combing her fingers through her hair just outside hers and Dutch’s tent. It was nice to watch them all in these moments and learn more about them than they might know about themselves. They were tiny snapshots into their lives.

But the one person you enjoyed watching the most was markedly absent from the group. His cot was visible to all the camp in these summer months, the little table with the flower and the photographs pinned to the side of the wagon. There was no indication he had slept there last night. You inhaled deeply, allowing it to lift your shoulders as you took a drink from your cup again. You didn’t dare ask where he was. You were determined, for some unknown reason both to you and externally, that nobody knew you were sweet on Arthur. You were sure it might give people the wrong idea. 

For several months, you had been learning about the van der Linde gang. You had found them in New Austin, scouting the streets of Tumbleweed, and Dutch thought you were after them. Instead, you partnered on a score, and were ultimately invited to work with them permanently. “Family”, he said they were. You had never really known “family”, but were happy to be included. Now, you knew it meant you belonged.

Arthur had been wary of you for a long time. It wasn’t until Blackwater when he started focusing on keeping everyone together that he softened. “Softened” was the mildest word available for it, as he merely stopped shooting you disdained looks and avoiding you, but shortly after, he started having actual conversations with you. Not much longer after that, you would even call him your friend, and you wanted to be more. You knew his past now, though, and were sure it wasn’t in your cards. For now, you were content.

As you finished your cup and stepped away from the fire, the sound of slowly approaching hoofsteps made your head turn. Arthur and Hosea were riding back into camp, the former atop a new horse and the latter looking his age. You smiled involuntarily and hurriedly turned away in hopes that nobody saw. You busied yourself with placing your cup near the dishes that needed washing, certain you would be asked to do those later, and tugged your jacket tighter around your shoulders.

Someone called your name. You were surprised to see that it was Arthur, approaching you with a hand behind his back. Jack had done the same thing to you more than once, gifting you both frogs and candies on separate occasions. 

“Mr. Morgan,” you greeted with a genuine smile, “how are you gettin’ on?”

“Jus’ fine, thank you,” he replied. He smiled, too, but abashedly. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, of course, I just, ah… I ain’t very good at this kinda thing, but thought you might appreciate these.” With a clumsy flourish, the cowboy pulled a cluster of flowers from behind his back, gripped tightly in his fist. Your heart skipped a beat when you recognized your favorite, snapdragons, in the center. Your mouth dropped open and you fumbled for words. Emotions raced through your head too fast for you to capture any of them.

“I, er, heard you the other day,” he admitted, “tellin’ the girls that you missed having some color around. We was out huntin’ and I saw ‘em and, well…” Arthur was out of words. He offered them again. Gingerly, as if nervous they might disappear, you took them from him, carefully thumbing through them with your other hand to identify what else was in the bouquet. It looked as though they had all hung from his saddle on his return journey, the leaves a little wilted and dusty, but the gesture was enough to bring a small sting to your eye.

“Thank you.” You barely managed to get the words out. You swallowed the emotion before looking up at him again. “That was mighty kind of you, Arthur, thank you very much.”

“Course,” he muttered, one hand gripping his belt while the other rubbed the back of his neck. 

The Second

The gang had to move camp. Again. It felt like there was no chance to make a real home, more and more trouble coming your way. There were rumors of Pinkertons out here. How they had followed you through the mountains, you were at a loss, but there they were and away the gang had to go.

Following Mrs. Grimshaw’s orders, you helped Karen, Tilly, and Mary-Beth pack up the bed rolls and take down tents. You walked Horseshoe Overlook back and forth to make sure no identifying items were left behind. Soon, you were sitting in a wagon watching the fading camp. Recent memories of laughing, drinking, and even dancing with Arthur rolled through your mind. Mary-Beth took your hand and squeezed it. You gave her what you hoped was a reassuring smile. 

Since bringing you flowers, Arthur had become an entirely different person. There was a strange kindness to him. You had seen it before, but now it felt tenfold, and most of it was directed to you. He would share his treats, his coats, sometimes part of his meal if he thought you might still be hungry, even showing you some of the sketches he made in his elusive journal. Tilly and Karen hadn’t missed it. Mary-Beth even sighed dreamily over some imaginary scenario in her head and called it “romantic”. It made you feel giddy.

Charles greeted the head of the wagon train. After entering a cove of trees, the wagons rolled onto a grassy clearing that edged up to a lake. A large tree took up the center, providing a great ceiling to what you hoped was the last place you would have to make home. Everyone circled in and you were immediately put to work again. 

Hours later, the sun was setting on yet another day, and you watched it from a log on the lake shore. The smell of the evening stew was drifting towards the water. You had finally cooled off-- as much as you could, anyway, with the humidity-- and were just beginning to think of going for your shawl. Gravel crunched behind you and you turned to see Arthur approaching. He seemed down, the golden light highlighting all of his scars and frown lines. 

“Mr. Morgan.” You hoped your eagerness wasn’t visible to him in the low light. His face, however, lifted instantaneously.

“Hope your day weren’t too rough,” he mumbled, stepping over the log to sit beside you. Casually, as though he had done it a million times, Arthur pulled some flowers from his satchel. They were more snapdragons, different colors than last time, and your face split into a wide grin. 

“Well, it’s much better now.” Feeling a rush of bravery, you leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. It was rough and smelled different than you expected, but it fit him perfectly. The tinge of red in his cheek might have been explained away by the sunset turning a shade of pink by someone who wasn’t paying much attention. The bravery was gone almost as soon as it had arrived and you turned your gaze back to the flowers in your hand, gently picking at the leaves. 

“Anyway, thank you,” you murmured. He grunted about it being nothing and you fell into silence together, your head burning with questions you were too nervous still to ask.

The Third

Early morning in Saint Denis had its own little charms. The city made you uneasy, that was for sure, and you knew you would long to return to the untamed wilderness soon, but as you studied the way the light shone on the buildings and listened to the sounds of the streets waking up, you could understand the appeal. Vines grew up the balcony, bees buzzed lazily between the small buds, the occasional neighbor greeted the other. Slowly, you grew aware of your immediate surroundings; the soft blanket, the real mattress beneath you, the new pillow under your head. Memories from the night before were beginning to set in and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning widely. 

Arthur had gone with Dutch and a few others to a party the mayor was throwing. You knew it was important, and what they were doing was dangerous, but he looked so good in his suit, you couldn’t find it in yourself to worry too much. The friendship between the two of you had blossomed into something more, something both soft and fiery, comforting and passionate. With the move to Shady Belle, you found yourself spending more nights in Arthur’s room inside of the house than on your bedroll outside. He seemed to have read your mind when he saw you looking at him dressed up, slipping cash into your hand and giving you whispered instructions to meet him at a hotel that night, after the party.

Inhaling deeply, you turned onto your back, stretching your arm over to find who filled the space beside you. It was surprisingly empty, and your head turned to find the blankets poorly pulled back into place. In the dip on the pillow, however, were snapdragons. Pink, red, white, mixed with a few other wildflowers. It was a bigger bouquet than he had given you in the past and it was tied together with a piece of twine. A paper with a short message was laying beside it. Picking it up, you read:

Went for a ride. We both needed to stretch our legs, you understand. I will be back soon. Stay in bed, I will have breakfast soon. Yours, Arthur.

He was yours. He brought flowers, he was bringing breakfast, and it was all for you. Finally feeling content, you closed your eyes again, allowing sleep to pull you away until he made his return. This was your happy place, you thought as you drifted off again. You could stay here forever.

[goodlucktai]

Could I request some good bro Natori and Natsume stuff for prompts 1,2,3, or 5? Either separately or merged into one frankenfic?

PROMPTS LIST

1. “I apologise in advance for the inconvenience my murder is going to have on your life.” +2. “I hate you.” “Why? I’m lovely.” +5. “This is my life now. I have climbed this hill and now I will die upon it.” “Shut up. We’ve only been hiking for twenty minutes.”

x

When Shuuichi called the Fujiwara house to invite Natsume to the upcoming wrap party, he was braced for the type of dogged, exacting negotiations better suited a hostage situation. 

Instead, after a pleasant fifteen-minute conversation with Touko, he was painlessly gifted custody of his friend for the weekend. 

“Shigeru-san and I need to meet with one of his relatives about some of Takashi-kun’s missing belongings,” she says, a sliver of steel in her sunny voice that promises, in no uncertain terms, that these relatives will almost certainly have a fight on their hands. “I’d hate to have to bring Takashi-kun along, but I don’t like to leave him here alone, so this is quite the neat solution!”

Natsume is grim and resigned when they meet at the train station, an overnight bag slung over his shoulder, his ugly cat tucked into his arms. Shuuichi can’t help but beam at him, having come out of this arrangement fully on top. 

“Shopping!” he announces gleefully. “You’ll need something fancy for the party. And then we’ll get lunch-- my treat, of course. And if you don’t listen to me, Touko-san will be sad!” 

If looks could kill, Shuuichi would almost certainly have met his unfortunate end right then and there. 

xx

Natsume has been uncomfortable all evening, in a fixed position at Shuuichi’s elbow and nursing the same flute of champagne that was foisted upon him at the door. 

He’s in dark-washed jeans and a smart blazer, his hair tucked out of his face with a few strategic hair clips. He toes the line between youthful and stylish well, and his quiet personality comes across as shy instead of standoffish. The cast and crew are all delighted to finally meet the kid Shuuichi talked so much about, and Natsume is doing his best to hold up under all the attention.

So it had taken a bit of blackmail and bribery to get him here-- was that so unusual? 

Networking is a necessary evil, and usually Shuuichi is stuck at these functions until the early hours of the morning. But it’s only a couple of hours before Natsume starts to flag. He’s edging into nonverbal territory, only mustering eye contact for a few seconds at a time, and Shuuichi doesn’t waste time in steering him away from the press of the party and into an out-of-the-way office. 

“Who’s office is this?” Natsume asks quietly. When Shuuichi presses lightly on his shoulders, he sinks into a leather armchair without fuss. 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m famous, I can do whatever I want,” Shuuichi says with a winning smile. 

Natsume is recovered enough by then to scowl at him, a knee-jerk reaction. 

“I hate you.”

“Why? I’m lovely.”

After that exchange, Shuuichi feels alright about leaving Natsume alone with Hiiragi while he sweeps off to make their excuses, and say his goodbyes, and steal some food for the road. 

And now they’re bundled in coats and scarves, making their way back to the hotel. Natsume looks much livelier now that they’re outside, working on the second half of an egg sandwich that Shuuichi smuggled out for him. 

“I can’t believe you do that for a living,” the boy murmurs after a moment. “It’s exhausting.”

“You get used to it,” Shuuichi says. “And I’m good at talking.”

Being charming and personable on cue is one of his greatest skills. No closed door, or VIP entrance, or members-only sign has ever kept him out. 

When they get back to the hotel, an ugly cat is waiting for them outside. Natsume smiles to see it, his pace quickening, and offers the yokai the last bite of his sandwich. 

Madara takes it with a scoff. “This is all you brought me? I want barbecue!” 

“What kind of party do you think we were at?” Shuuichi mutters. 

“Maybe tomorrow, sensei,” Natsume says agreeably, lifting the cat into his arms. 

“Hmph. In that case, I guess I’ll pass the message along.” Settling into a comfortable loaf in the crook of the boy’s arms, the cat squints at them with shining, dark eyes. “Someone came for their name while you were gone.”

Shuuichi stiffens in alarm. They’re hours away from Hitoyoshi, where Natsume’s reputation proceeds him at every turn. To have been tracked this far, despite the wards... 

Natsume only looks mildly surprised. “Are they still here?”

“No, they’re waiting for you in the woods,” Madara says. “Human settlements make them nervous.”

Nodding as if this is all perfectly reasonable, Natsume glances at Shuuichi. Shuuichi, waiting for his cue, says, “Absolutely not.”

“Natori,” his friend says, with the same tone of a tired mother attempting to wrangle an unreasonable toddler.

“In what universe would I allow you to wander off into the forest in the middle of the night?” He opts to ignore the rich orange dusk above and around them, and the fact that the streetlights haven’t kicked on yet. Natsume’s eyebrows are inching toward his hairline, so he decides to play his trump card. “Your parents said I’m in charge.”

Hiiragi sighs deeply. It’s only after Shuuichi says it that he realizes how juvenile it sounded, but by then it’s too late. He has to double down. 

“Let’s just go inside, and we’ll discuss it over a proper meal,” he says with a smile. He waves Natsume toward the door, but Natsume doesn’t budge.

Shuuichi realizes he used up all his authority earlier, in forcing Natsume to the department stores and restaurants and the wrap party. The boy has played along thus far but he’s clearly reached his quota for the evening. He doesn’t even entertain the idea of listening to Shuuichi this time. 

“I’ll be quick,” Natsume says plainly. He turns back the way they came without another word. 

Shuuichi struggles with it for a moment, but he really doesn’t have any choice but to follow. It doesn’t help that the ugly cat is laughing at him, or that Hiiragi is judging him silently with every step.  

xx

Honestly, if Shuuichi were feeling marginally more generous, he would admit that there was some sort of cosmic justice at work here. He had forced Natsume out of his comfort zone all night, and now the tables have turned entirely. 

The trees tower around them as they pick their way up a faint foot trail, stretching up into a dark, endless canopy. The wind combs through branches and leaves in eerie, hushed whispers. They only have the shiki’s night-eyes and the flashlight on Shuuichi’s phone to see by. 

“This is my life now,” Shuuichi complains, out of breath. “I climbed this hill and now I’m going to die on it.”

“Shut up,” Natsume replies mildly. “We’ve only been hiking for twenty minutes.”

He certainly seems comfortable here, for all that he’s never been in these particular woods before. With his green eyes and silvery hair and thousand-yard stare, Natsume might as well be a mountain spirit himself sometimes. 

The thought cinches painfully in Shuuichi’s stomach, and he speeds up a bit until they’re walking alongside one another. 

“How do you know you can trust this spirit?” he asks.

“I don’t,” Natsume says, sounding surprised by the question. “How do you know you can trust any of those humans you work with?”

“Because they’re human.”

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Shuuichi can see his own incomprehension reflected in Natsume’s expression. There’s a sudden chasm open between them, a lack of understanding that goes both ways.

Natsume looks away first. He doesn’t quite hang his head, but he isn’t standing as tall as he was before. Shuuichi remembers, belatedly, just how many humans have hurt Natsume up to this point. He realizes that what he just said was very stupid. And on top of being grossly inconsiderate, he managed to alienate his friend at the same time.

This is what he gets for being so smug all day. 

He puts a hand on Natsume’s shoulder, throwing a line across the chasm and hoping it will hold. He squeezes, waiting until Natsume has mustered the courage for eye contact once more, and only when he has the boy’s full attention does he say gravely, “I have a lot to learn from you. I’m only sorry I won’t have the chance. And I apologize for the inconvenience my murder is going to have on your life.”

Natsume splutters, and then laughs, and those sad, clinging shadows peel away from him as easily as a broken spiderweb. “You’re not going to get murdered!” 

"Hm,” Shuuichi says, deeply unconvinced (and deeply relieved to hear his friend laughing).

“Honestly, if you’re this worried, why not just wait at the hotel?” Natsume asks. He’s animated again, picking his way ahead confidently. Shuuichi is happy to follow, leaving that painful, aborted conversation behind them for another day. 

“Because Touko told me to look after you this weekend,” Shuuichi says mulishly. He’s still clinging to the thin veneer of being in charge, for all the good it’s doing him. “How could I look her in the eye if I let you go charging off into danger?”

“Easily,” Natsume mutters. “Charmingly. And with a bouquet of roses, probably. You said it yourself, you’re good at talking.”

Now it’s Shuuichi’s turn to laugh. He thinks of his conversation with Touko earlier that week-- he thinks of how, even now, she and Shigeru are off getting into a fight with their family for their foster son’s sake, with Natsume none the wiser. 

“You’ve sorely underestimated how protective she is of you,” Shuuichi says ruefully. “That’s fine. I’m sure you’ll get to see it firsthand when I take you home, since I’ve made an absolute mess of this weekend so far.” 

Natsume tips his head curiously, but whatever he might have said is interrupted as they come around a bend that opens up to a glade.

There’s lantern light up ahead. The glow is unnatural, slightly off-color, and the lights sway even though there isn’t a steady wind. Hiiragi goes tense and alert at Shuuichi’s shoulder, and Shuuichi himself feels a cold thrill of anticipation, his fight-or-flight reflexes primed. But Natsume lets out a little huff of relief, and Madara says, “Finally!” as a rabbit spirit steps onto the path to greet them. 

It’s about as tall as Shuuichi’s waist and dressed in a neat yellow yukata. It greets them politely, and apologizes for making them go out of their way, and invites them into the glade. Madara jumps out of Natsume’s arms to lead the way, and Hiiragi follows distrustfully, but Natsume lingers for a moment. 

“What if Touko hadn’t said anything?” he asks, in the tone of someone testing a theory. 

For all of about three seconds, Shuuichi considers lying to preserve his dignity, but he gives it up for a lost cause. He sighs, and musses his hair up even more, and admits, “I’d still be here.”

Natsume might as well be a mountain spirit himself sometimes. But then there are times like these, when his face lights up like a summer sky, and he smiles as though he’s never been hurt, and Shuuichi has never met anyone more human than him.