#stacked firepit wood

[justgetclosertome]

Fire Pit Landscape Photo of a mid-sized traditional partial sun backyard brick landscaping with a fire pit in summer.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 3

(Rafe Cameron x reader, series, 5.7k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

additional chapter cw: suggestive language/themes, heavy drinking, mature readers only please

⇢ series masterlist

The game was on, and Carter wasn’t one to go down without a fight.

You however, were much less invested in her scheme to set you up with Tom, already feeling tired and confused after 24-hours of this little reunion trip. You laid in bed for quite a while replaying the almost-moment you’d had with Rafe in the kitchen in your head before taking a long, dreamless nap. It was the smell of the barbeque wafting through your bedroom window that woke you up. You threw your hair up in a bun, too groggy to care about putting any more effort into your appearance.

As you reached for the handle, you heard two hushed voices arguing behind your bedroom door. You opened it slowly to reveal Carter and Topper facing each other, both with their arms crossed as they carried on a heated whisper-argument.

“What are you even doing up here Topper?” Carter demanded.

“I don’t know, what are you doing up here Carter? Trying to get a leg up?” Topper snapped back, towering over her in height yet still somehow looking small under her glare.

They were so locked in on each other that neither of them had even noticed your appearance.

“Um, hi,” you waved your hand between their faces to get their attention. “Can I help you?”

They looked at you, startled as their arms fell and stances softened. Carter eyed your outfit up and down, trying to hide her distaste at your choice of leggings and a t-shirt.

“Well, I don’t know what he’s doing up here but I came to see if you needed help getting ready,” Carter replied.

“I am ready,” you said, eyeing her suspiciously.

“You’re, uh,” Topper scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

You squinted at him, you could understand Carter critiquing your outfit, knowing she was trying to set you up with Tom, but what stake did Topper have in your outfit choice?

“We’re literally just going downstairs,” you countered.

“Maybe throw on something a little nicer,” Carter urged gently.

“Okay, fine,” you gave in. “You two are being so weird today.”

Topper gave you a thumbs up as you closed the door in their faces.

A few minutes later you reemerged in a new outfit, a crocheted halter top and some cut-offs. You had let your hair down and ran a brush through it, dabbed on some mascara and lipgloss. It was the maximum amount of effort you were willing to put into a big night out in the backyard.

Despite everyone’s relentless teasing, Topper actually was a pretty good cook. The food was great and everyone thanked you, Rafe, and Tom for going out to get it.

“Tom paid!” you announced. “So everyone make sure to be really nice to him or he won’t bankroll us anymore.”

You smiled at Tom, who grinned back and waved you off in joking modesty. You let your eyes linger as he leaned over the firepit on the other side of the sprawling patio, skillfully stacking the wood before lighting a match and holding it under. He crouched low to blow gently on the kindling, causing the fire to roar to life. You could see a sliver of his toned lower back peeking out from his shirt as he reached for another log, dropping it straight into his newly sparked flame with a bare hand. The whole thing was unbelievably attractive.

The only thing better was the stoney look on Rafe’s face when you caught his eye, realizing he’d noticed the way you were looking at Tom like you wanted to have him for dessert. Good. 

Playing and replaying the scene from the kitchen in your head all afternoon, you came downstairs determined to freeze Rafe out. Sure, he remembered your favorite candy and maybe almost even apologized, but it wasn’t enough to erase the sting you felt when he pulled away from you like you had the plague as soon as anyone else entered the room.

After dinner, you were perched on the railing of the porch, sipping something strong and chatting with Carter and her childhood best friend, Maddie.

Maddie was nice enough, the Kook academy prom queen two years in a row, but she had never shown much interest in you. Until you showed up here looking much more instagram-worthy than you had in high school.

“So, omg,” Maddie started, playing with a strand of your hair like you were the closest of friends. “When are you gonna drop the workout routine? You look gorg.”

Never once had one of Carter’s friends complimented your looks. 

“Thanks,” you grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I play a lot of volleyball and jog a little.”

“Well it’s working!” Kelce hollered from across the porch, already wobbling slightly from his inebriation.

There it was again, your blush, always showing up at the least opportune times. All eyes were on you, such open talk about your body making your skin crawl with self-consciousness. You looked over the railing to the sand a few feet down, wondering how badly the jump would hurt.

As always, knowing you better than anyone, Carter felt like she could read your mind. Protectiveness roared in her chest, she set her hand over yours to silently tell you she understood before turning to the party and announcing, “okay, we’re playing a game! Everyone around the fire pit!”

No one argued with her wishes, they never did. The group gathered around the bonfire, each with a full drink in hand as Carter unnecessarily explained the rules to never have I ever as if this same group hadn’t played it a hundred times in high school. 

You appreciated Carter moving the attention off of you, but clearly she didn’t know this was your least favorite game in the world. The second the name of the game came out of her mouth, your heart dropped to your stomach, hit with memories of sitting off to the side while her friends played, all of your fingers embarrassingly still up, revealing you had done nothing interesting or scandalous in your life.

Sure, you’d definitely added a few notches to your belt since then, but you knew these people and had no doubt you were still way behind. The sad thing is you didn’t even care, but you knew they would and you couldn’t help that nagging desire to prove that you were just as cool as them. You sighed as you settled in your chair next to Carter, frustrated that just as you were starting to feel somewhat normal, you were transported right back to your loneliest days.

Carter went first, “never have I everrr…shoplifted.”

Sabrina took a giggly sip from her solo cup.

“Isn’t your dad’s networth like a billion dollars?” Kelce asked.

“Yes, but he never would’ve bought me those red panties, so I took ‘em,” she winked at him, and he scooted his chair closer to her.

Everyone else still had all ten fingers up, making you think maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

But your relief didn’t last long. One by one they went around the circle, revealing each other’s secrets and leaving you with ten fingers up.

“Never have I ever done a body shot.” Your fingers stayed up.

“Never have I ever kissed someone of the same sex.” Your fingers stayed up.

“Never have I ever hooked up in a public place.” Your fingers stayed up. 

As the group got tipsier, the revelations got dirtier. You were sure some of them were lying and there was some temptation for you to put a finger down as a lie too just to level the playing field, but that was such teenage bullshit. You might not have as a high of a body count as some of them, but you still had your pride. 

The blood rushed from you face when Maddie said, “never have I ever been with two people at once” and Rafe put his last finger down, smirking as he finished off his beer.

A few more rounds passed and everyone else had put at least a couple fingers down while you still hadn’t done a single one of the things listed. You chewed on your lip, wondering how early was too early to excuse yourself to go to bed.

You were about to make a break for it, when a now sloppily drunk Sabrina pointed at you and slurred, “aww bambi’s still got ten!”

Bambi was another one of the many teasing nicknames they’d called you in high school, and it might just be your least favorite. 

“You’re still such a good girl,” Sabrina jibed. 

She must’ve been beyond wasted. She wasn’t necessarily nice, but she wasn’t usually this much of a bitch.

Your breaths got short, the anxiety erupting like fireworks in your chest. You could feel Carter’s mind spinning next to you, trying to come up with some way to defend you, but another voice beat her to it.

“Well,” Rafe said, drawing all eyes off of you and across the firepit towards him. “Never have I ever gotten so crossfaded at a boneyard party that I pissed my pants in someone else’s truck.”

He shot Sabrina a vindictive smile.

“Rafe!” She protested. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!” 

At her admission, everyone broke out into laughter, aimed at her.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Rafe chuckled, “you just did.”

“Bruhh,” Kelce hollered. “That’s nasty!”

Sabrina went red, completely humiliated. You tried to be a girl’s girl, but after years of her teasing and making you feel like a loser, you couldn’t help but join in the laughter at her expense. 

As she emptied her cup spitefully, you caught Rafe’s gaze across the fire, the air between you wavy with the flame’s heat. He smiled a crooked, satisfied smile at you, and you mouthed “thank you.” He gave you a reassuring wink and your stomach did cartwheels. 

Carter straightened in her lawn chair next to you, kicking herself for giving Rafe the chance to save you before she could.

“I’ve got one!” she announced, and the crowd hushed to hear their queen. “Never have I ever skinny dipped in the campus fountain and got caught by campus security but successfully flirted my way out of a citation and ended up getting the cop’s number.”

Everyone looked around the circle quizzically, wondering who that incredibly specific anecdote was aimed at.

“No fucking way!” Topper shouted when he saw you put down your pinky finger with a bashful smile.

Topper and Kelce whooped, and the girls all gave you impressed looks.

“Okay baddie!” Maddie gasped. “Was he cute? Did you call him?”

“I mean he wasn’t not cute,” you mused, taking the obligatory sip of your drink. “We hung out a few times.”

“So does that mean you’re into handcuffs now orrr…” Kelce chimed in.

“Oops, I put the wrong fingers down,” you lifted your hand and theatrically put all down except your middle finger, aiming it at Kelce.

The crowd erupted with laughs and amused ohhhh’s. Even Rafe was smiling, and you couldn’t help but wish you knew what he was thinking, noticing his soft eyes on you as you bantered with his friends, all attention on you. This time, you weren’t blushing, you were just enjoying yourself. It felt so nice to have such a naturally fun and easy moment, but it was short lived.

“Never have I ever,” Sabrina interrupted, hiccuping. “Failed an entire semester of college.”

The crowd fell silent once again, no one daring to bring their eyes to Rafe, the clear target of her comeback. He just rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly, like it didn’t bother him at all. But you could see the hint of shame in his eyes, a rare glimpse of vulnerability hidden under his tough facade. You used to spend so much of your time digging for those deeper layers that it was easy for you to pick up on them when they rose to the surface, even if it was just for a second.

Maybe you should let him flounder, leave him hanging like he’d done to you so many times before. But tonight, for the first time ever, he had jumped in to defend you, and maybe one act of kindness wouldn’t kill you.

“Fuck this game. Topper, didn’t you say something earlier about a beer pong tournament?” You prompted him, hoping desperately he’d see what you were trying to do and play along.

Topper looked confused at first, so you smiled tightly and flicked your eyes to Rafe and back as quickly as possible, urging him to understand.

Ever the king of subtlety, Topper’s eyes went wide as he mouthed “ohhhh!” 

Rafe saw the whole thing.

“Beer pong! Yes!” Topper said, excited to finally be in the loop. “Let’s do it!”

“I wanna play!” Sabrina stood quickly from her chair, immediately tripping over her own feet.

“Woah,” Carter caught her and held her up with some effort, Sabrina so far gone she couldn’t even use her legs. “I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

Carter stabilized Sabrina and guided her towards the house. You knew she was pissed at Sabrina for picking on you, but Carter would never leave a drunk girl to stumble around a party by herself. She looked at you apologetically, but you nodded to let her know you were fine.

After they disappeared into the house, Topper and Kelce got to work clearing the long outdoor dining table for beer pong, filling cups and placing them with great attention to detail. You chuckled at the way they were arguing over correct cup spacing and fill levels as you reached down into the cooler for another drink. When you stood, Tom appeared by your side.

“I didn’t realize I was sharing a house with a criminal,” he drawled, mouth quirked with a crooked smile.

“Oh yeah,” you played along, popping the top of your drink. “I’m wanted in four states and Puerto Rico.”

“And Puerto Rico, wow,” he leaned his arm against the porch rail, his body angling towards yours in a way that made your skin prick with goosebumps. “I need to hear that story.”

“I’d tell you,” you lowered your voice and lifted your mouth towards his ear to whisper. “But then I’d have to kill you.”

“You’re in that deep, huh?” He placed his other hand on the railing on the other side of you, effectively caging you in, though he held himself back far enough to give you some space. You didn’t want space, though, the enticing scent of whiskey and the smoke from the fire drawing you to him.

“Mhm,” you leaned in so your chests were almost touching, a smile tugging his full lips when he noticed the way you intentionally closed the space between you. “If you thought the campus fountain story was bad…”

“I didn’t think it was bad,” he shook his head.

“No?” You grinned, eager to see where he was going with this.

“Not bad, kind of hot, but not bad,” he confessed.

“Only kind of?” You furrowed your brow in mock offense.

He broke into a smile and blushed, flustered as he said, “I mean, uh…”

You giggled. His bashful, dimpled smile was so painfully cute you were suddenly seeing the value to Carter’s matchmaking plan.

The alcohol in your system mixed with the warmth radiating off of him made your body go hot, tingles shooting up your spine as his eyes fell to your lips. He was so damn pretty. Warm brown eyes and messy hair you wanted to tangle your fingers in.

Rafe grabbed the fire poker and busied himself by tending to the flames, which didn’t really need it, considering Tom had built such a sturdy fire. The sound of your sweet giggles floating through the air as you flirted with Tom made him want to walk straight off the porch and into the ocean. He’d surely put his lifelong friendship with Sabrina on the line, not to mention his own pride, to keep you from running away in embarrassment, and now Tom was reaping the rewards of his chivalry. 

He remembered, though. Maybe you didn’t think he did, but he remembered. The nights you sat in the corner, lonely, pining, and the go-to butt of his friends’ stupid jokes. And he’d just sat by and let it happen, so many times. It’s no wonder you were leaned up against someone else, sharing stories about a whole chapter of your life he’d missed. He only had himself to blame.

Once the table was set up, Topper turned and frowned at the way the group had split, you and Tom cozy in the corner while Rafe stood by the fire alone, shoulders tense. He needed to step up his Cupid game, like, now.

He clapped his hands loudly, voice booming as he announced to the party that it was time to play. The startling sound forced Tom away from you just as you were about to ask him if he wanted to walk down to the water. Topper pointed right at you and pronounced you would be on his team. You were going to protest before you remembered beer pong was your idea in the first place, your ruse to protect Rafe. You couldn’t back out now.

Beer pong was another thing you’d added to your skill set in college. In high school, you were never asked to join when parties inevitably broke into a tournament. Instead you’d sit quietly and watch with hearts in your eyes as Rafe played with the competitiveness of an Olympian in a gold medal race.

He was known for his terrible sportsmanship, everyone expected a full tantrum if he didn’t win. The same went for school sports, you’d spent every night after a rare loss up on the phone with him listening intently while he ranted about all the ways the refs were wrong or the umps were blind. At the time, you took it as an honor that you were the one he wanted to find solace in. Now, grown and mature, you saw it for what it really was; no one else wanted to listen to him bitch and moan, so you were just his only option.

“Let’s go, Little Carter!” Topper raised his hand for a high five as you approached the table.

“If you call me that, I’m not playing,” you left him hanging.

“My bad, my bad,” he conceded.

You gave in and high fived him, stepping up to the table with your game face on. Kelce and Maddie stood across from you. They were both terrible shots, and you sunk every ball, but Topper was keeping them in the game with his many misses. 

Topper was great at beer pong in high school and you were sure he’d had plenty of practice at U of F, so there was no reason he should be playing so horribly.

“Dude, what the hell is up with you?” You scolded him after another throw that was way off.

“I dunno,” Topper said with an exaggerated drunken slur in his voice. “I think I’m just too wasted to play. You might need another partner.”

Before you could mock him for his dramatics, he had called over to Rafe, who was sitting back in a lounge chair looking at his phone, anything to keep his eyes off of you.

“What?” He grumbled, eyes lifting from his screen and avoiding yours.

“Need you to sub in for me,” Topper fake hiccupped and you rolled your eyes.

You were sure Rafe would see you were his proposed partner and pass on the opportunity, but then he and Topper had some kind of silent conversation with their eyes that you couldn’t interpret, and Rafe stood from his chair.

“You don’t have to,” you offered as he stepped up and took the ball from Topper.

You hated that your instinct was to apologize for inconveniencing him. He shrugged and lined up his first shot.

“Someone’s gotta show ‘em how it’s done,” he said with an easy grin that made your heart beat a little faster. 

If only your younger self could see how your night was progressing. Impressing everyone during never have I ever. Flirting with a gorgeous boy from another school. And now, Rafe smiling at you and acknowledging your presence in front of all these people, willingly agreeing to be your teammate. She’d have died and gone to heaven.

He had every right to be cocky; he was really good. And to his great surprise, so were you. You and Rafe made quick work of Kelce and Maddie, then Kelce and Jack, then Kelce and three more partners that tried to step up to the plate, Kelce’s aim worsening as he teetered on the edge of a blackout.

“When did you get so good at this?” Rafe asked you after a partcualrly skillful shot.

“I was always good at it,” you scoffed. “You just never let me play.”

After that comment, Rafe was suddenly an extra encouraging teammate. Before each shot he’d pull you back, leaning down to whisper in your ear conspiratorially about which cup you should call, like an NFL coach rallying his quarterback.

“I can’t hit the far corner, my aim isn’t that good,” you said when he proposed the risky shot. 

Self-doubt filled your face as you bit your lip, Rafe recognizing the nervous tick instantly.

“Nah you got it!” he grabbed you by the shoulder and shook you playfully. “You just gotta believe in yourself.” 

Despite yourself, you broke into a smile, making a feeble attempt to brush him away, though he could tell you didn’t mean it.

“Let’s go slugger,” Rafe placed the ball in your hand and guided you into position by your shoulders. He stood behind you and leaned in to bring his mouth close to your ear. “You got this.”

You loved it. You hated it. Your head swirled with conflicting thoughts, but when you sunk the ball with a flick of your wrist, they all faded.

“Let’s fucking gooo!” Rafe yelled.

He lifted his hand for a double high five and you stood on your tiptoes to reach. Your arms came down, but your hands were still in his.

“Told ‘ya,” he said tenderly, smiling down at you as his large hands enveloped yours. “You just gotta believe in yourself.”

Despite the alarms blaring in your head, telling you to run, you let it all linger. The deep sound of his voice in the air, his eyes on your lips, his rough hands folded in yours.

“Okay!” Carter chose that minute to emerge from the house after Sabrina finally fell asleep. “That’s enough wins for y’all, time for some real competition.”

The sound of her voice snapped you out of the moment, and you pulled your hands away from Rafe quickly, nervous about all the eyes on you for the first time since you’d started playing.

“I need a partner,” Carter said, surveying the group on the patio. “How about…”

You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where she was going with this show and wishing she’d just fast forward to the end.

“Tom?” She raised her eyebrows in his direction, as if it was a crazy idea she had just come up with. “Do you play?”

“I may have taken part in a tourney or two,” Tom said humbly.

“Bullshit,” Kelce exclaimed, slumped in a chair as his head spun. “This guy was the Alpha Tau champion all four years. He’s got a plaque and everything.”

“Damn, I didn’t know we had Alpha Tau royalty in our midst!” Carter bantered.

“Jesus, enough with the fanfare, are you playing or not, dude?” Rafe snapped.

Carter eyed you, her lips twisted in a satisfied smirk. No one was surprised at Rafe’ gruffness, more than used to his competitive mean streak. It was not one of his more attractive qualities. The pull you’d just felt to him faltered a little at the reminder of this particular weakness. You were sure that’s exactly what Carter was hoping for.

“Alright I’m in,” Tom said, stepping up to the table and rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ‘ya.” He winked at you.

“Yeah, yeah, just call your shot, champ,” Rafe said.

The four of you reset the cups, not much work needing to be done on you and Rafe’s side of the table since almost no one had scored on you. As Tom lined up his first shot, he stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, adjusting and readjusting his stance to get comfortable.

Rafe crossed his arms over his chest mumbling something along the lines of “this fuckin’ guy” and you couldn’t help but smile, admittedly also kind of getting the ick from how seriously Tom was taking this. 

Then he sunk every ball. After a few particularly good rounds, he made his third shot in a row, and Carter called “fire.” She handed him balls one after another like he was taking free throws, wiggling her eyebrows at you to make sure you were paying attention to his triumph.

You drank each cup obediently, ever the rule follower. After your fourth, you were getting so sick of the stale beer, you and Rafe’s cups had been sitting untouched all night and the cheap hops had soured significantly. When Tom sunk another one you grabbed the cup hesitantly, queasy, nearly gagging.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Rafe volunteered, grabbing the cup from you.

“Y’all don’t have to drink those if they’re really that bad,” Tom offered, pausing his next shot when he noticed how disgusted you looked.

“I got it, man,” Rafe waved him off, holding his nose and shooting back the beer as quickly as possible. He dropped the empty cup with a grimace.

“We can just call it a game,” Tom suggested, clearly feeling bad.

“Do you want to forfeit?” You asked Rafe, dropping your voice so Carter and Tom couldn’t hear.

“What and just wave the white flag?” Rafe replied, eyebrows raised. “Do you?

Your lips spread in a slow smile, “not a fucking chance.”

“Atta girl,” he nodded, returning his gaze to Tom. “We’re no quitters, hit us again big guy.”

And he did, over and over, until there was only one cup left on your side of the table. As he prepped for his final shot, Rafe turned to you, a playful, tipsy smile on his face.

“We had a good run,” He said, reaching out shake your hand. You took it with a smile.

When Tom and Carter won, high fiving each other in a loud celebration, all eyes fell to Rafe, waiting to see how he’d react to losing. You tensed, hoping his chipper attitude when you were winning would carry over into a graceful loss. But then he rounded the table, striding towards Tom, and you cringed in anticipation of a classic Rafe Cameron Temper Tantrum.

“Oh boy,” Carter mumbled under her breath. “Here we go.”

But there was no blow up, just Rafe extending his hand to Tom, who took it with a friendly shake.

“Good game, man,” Rafe said. 

“Yeah, you too, dude,” Tom smiled, not realizing this show of sportsmanship was a historical first.

Rafe tilted his head in a friendly nod towards your sister, “Carter.”

“Rafael,” she returned his sarcastic tone, purposefully using his least favorite nickname.

With that, Rafe walked away from the table, one last glance towards you as he returned to his seat by the fire. You watched him go, feeling sad not that you had lost, but that your fun night with Rafe had seemingly come to an end.

It was dizzying, your ever-changing emotional state, and you suspected it had very little to do with the beer. Thinking over all the events of the day gave you whiplash. One second you were about ready to ask Tom if he wanted to come back to your room, the next it felt like you and Rafe were finally sharing the moment you’d dreamt of for years. All the while, you weren’t sure you actually wanted either of them, or if you even wanted to be here at all.

“Wanna play again?” Carter asked, noticing the distracted look on your face.

“I’m good,” you smiled at her appreciatively, deciding you’d had enough excitement for one day. “I think I’m probably just going to bed now.”

“Aww, but it’s so early grandma,” Topper called over to you from the firepit.

You walked over to his chair and peched on the armrest.

 “Ah yes, another one of my favorite nicknames,” you joked. “No one’s called me that in four years.”

“Another inside joke?” Tom inquired, joining the circle, he and Carter each grabbing a chair.

“In high school, she was always the first to leave parties. She’d rather be at home in bed with a book by 9pm,” Topper explained to him.

You rose from his chair, eager to ditch this little trip down memory lane before it got too embarrassing. You almost made a clean escape, but then a very drunk Kelce decided to chime in.

“Unless Rafe asked her to stay,” he laughed. “Then she’d be there allll night.”

Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to cover it. You’ve been embarrassed a thousand times in your life, but this was something different. You looked down at your feet, not sure what you were supposed to do. No quick, face saving remark was coming to mind.

Carter smacked Kelce on the arm, while Topper shook his head with a disapproving, “dude…” 

Your eyes drifted to Rafe, who was looking down at his hands uncomfortably. Whatever protective instinct that had inspired him to stand up for you earlier was clearly gone as he left you to drown in the painfully awkward silence.

“Oh, were you two…?” Tom asked, pointing between you and Rafe quizzically.

“Nope,” you told him with a stiff smile.

He looked like he was about to ask more, but caught on at the last second, reading in between the lines. There it was, the last person here who didn’t know about your pathetic past was now caught up to speed. Yeah, you’d definitely had enough.

“Kelce, you’re such an asshole,” Carter began reprimanding him.

“Just stop,” you urged her. “It’s fine, I’m just going to bed.”

“Wait!” She called after you, but you were already walking toward the house, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. She gave Kelce one last slap and rushed after you.

Kelce, barely conscious, still hadn’t caught up with his own party foul.

“Where’s she going?” He asked Topper.

Rafe stood from his chair suddenly. 

“Will you get him out of here please?” He spat at Topper, sidestepping the fire as he stormed off toward the house.

Rafe followed your path into the kitchen, not sure what he was going to say when he caught up to you, but suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to make it right. He should’ve said something as soon as Kelce put his foot in his mouth. He’d deal with that dumbass later.

He slid the kitchen door open, headed towards the stairs that lead to the second floor, but he stopped short when he heard your voice. He stayed back, out of sight but close enough to hear your conversation with Carter on the stairs.

“Carter, it’s fine,” you sighed.

“No it’s fucking not, he made you cry,” Carter practically growled.

Rafe’s heart dropped. You were crying? He was gonna kick Kelce’s ass as soon as he was sober enough to feel pain.

“I’m just tired,” you sniffled. “Please, just drop it for now. I just wanna go to sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” Carter said, her voice starting to crack. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to stay.”

“It’s not your fault,” you assured her. “I knew he was gonna be here.”

Rafe frowned. Was the ‘he’ you were referring to still Kelce, or was it him? Was his presence really so distressing to you that you were in tears?

Carter reluctantly bid you goodnight, and Rafe slipped into the pantry so she wouldn’t see him when she descended the stairs back into the kitchen, storming towards the backyard, surely on her way to give Kelce hell.

He stood in the walk-in pantry for a minute, collecting his thoughts. 

Maybe he should be the one to leave. If his presence really was such torment to you, it would be the right thing to do. But you didn’t seem tormented earlier when you were playing beer pong with him, cheering each other on and laughing like friends. Or before, at the fire, when you’d come to each other’s defense. Even his two best friends hadn’t seen that Sabrina’s words actually hurt him, but you did. You always knew him better than anyone.

While he stood in the pantry, illuminated only by the single light bulb above his head, his eyes grazed over the shelf. Between a stack of paper plates and some hamburger buns, sat the candy he had picked out for you at the store. He smiled at the memory of your many car rides as teenagers, fueled by the snacks you had brought when you picked him up. Maybe you regretted those times now, but something about the fact that this was still your favorite candy made him feel better.

His stomach twisted with worry that after what Kelce had said, you would decide to leave. The only worse thought was that he might let you go without finding the courage to say the words he’d been holding onto since he saw you on the beach. Maybe you’d slam the door in his face, but he couldn’t let you leave without trying.

Rafe grabbed your candy off the shelf and climbed the stairs two at a time, eager to knock on your bedroom door before he lost his nerve.

(Chapter 4)

a/n: I LOVED hearing all your Team Tom vs. Team Rafe opinions!! The competition is heating up!!!! (not my outline for this chapter starting with “note: google rules to beer pong” lol)

Ch 4 predictions? 👀

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[gardenladysworld]

Starbound hearts

Status: I'm working on it

Pairings: Neteyam x human!f!reader

Aged up characters!

Genre/Warnings: fluff, slow burn, oblivious characters, light angst, hurt/comfort, pining

Summary: In the breathtaking, untamed beauty of Pandora, two souls from different worlds find themselves drawn together against all odds. Neteyam, the dutiful future olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya clan, is bound by the expectations of his people and the traditions of his ancestors. She, a human scientist with a love for Pandora’s wonders, sees herself as an outsider, unworthy of the connection she craves.

Tags: @nerdylawyerbanditprofessor-blog, @ratchetprime211, @poppyseed1031, @redflashoftheleaf, @nikipuppeteer @eliankm, @quintessences0posts,

Part 14: To sneak

Part 15: To linger

The crack of thunder jolted you awake, the sound so loud and sudden it seemed to shake the entire hunter’s hut. For a moment, you lay there in confusion, your heart hammering in your chest as the remnants of sleep clung to you. The storm outside raged with a ferocity that made you feel small—a deafening cacophony of thunder, howling wind, and rain pounding against the woven walls.

Neteyam’s arms tightened around you instinctively, his large hands resting on your waist through the blanket as he pulled you closer into his warmth. He didn’t wake; his breathing remained steady, his face peaceful despite the chaos outside. Your head rested against his chest, the steady rise and fall of it grounding you in the storm’s fury. His warmth seeped through the blanket draped over you, enveloping you like a cocoon.

You tilted your head slightly, watching the glow of the dying fire. The embers flickered weakly, casting faint orange shadows on the walls with each flash of lightning that lit up the night sky. The storm was alive, untamed, and utterly relentless. The wind howled through the cracks in the hut’s walls, carrying with it the chill of the night and the wild energy of the forest.

Despite the comforting weight of Neteyam’s arms, you couldn’t ignore the coldness still clinging to your skin. Your bra and panties, though drying slowly under the heat of the blanket and his bodyheat, were still cool against your body. Your wet clothes lay abandoned near the firepit where you’d left them earlier, a soggy reminder of the evening’s reckless adventure.

Carefully, you pried yourself out of Neteyam’s embrace. His arms resisted at first, tightening slightly as though unwilling to let you go even in his sleep, but he relaxed after a moment, letting out a quiet sigh. You glanced at him as you slipped free, your heart softening at the sight of his peaceful face. His head was tilted slightly to the side, resting against the hut’s wall, his full lips slightly parted as he breathed deeply.

The cold hit you immediately as you left the warmth of his body, and you shivered, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself as you walked toward the firepit. The embers were faint now, barely enough to give off any heat. You reached for the small pile of dried wood stacked in the corner of the hut, adding a few pieces to the pit. Your fingers worked quickly, stoking the embers until the flames flickered to life once more, casting a soft, golden glow over the room.

You sat back on your heels, holding your hands out toward the fire. The warmth began to seep into your skin, chasing away the lingering chill. Your clothes lay in a crumpled heap nearby, and you shifted them closer to the fire, draping the shirt and pants across a makeshift rack to dry. Hopefully, by morning, they’d be warm and ready to wear again.

For a moment, you simply sat there, watching the flames dance and listening to the storm outside. The thunder was less frequent now, the lightning casting fleeting shadows on the hut’s walls. The storm seemed to be losing some of its earlier ferocity, though the rain still fell in steady sheets, its rhythmic patter oddly soothing.

Finally, you turned your gaze back to Neteyam. He hadn’t moved, still leaning against the wall with his long legs crossed under him as he sit on the old pelts. You felt a pang in your chest as you looked at him, a mix of awe and affection that left you breathless. How could someone so strong, so tied to this wild and dangerous world, also be so gentle? So patient? Even in sleep, he looked impossibly beautiful��his braids spilling over his broad shoulders, the soft glow of his bioluminescent freckles catches your eye, standing out like tiny stars against his deep blue skin.

You shuffle back to him, the blanket dragging along the floor as you settle between his legs again. His warmth envelops you immediately, and you sigh, leaning back against his chest. His arms move instinctively, wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. Even asleep, his hold is protective, as though the storm could snatch you away at any moment.

You glance up at him, his face peaceful in the dim firelight. Finally, you think, your lips curving into a soft smile. He’s sleeping. Truly sleeping. It’s a rare sight—Neteyam never seems to rest long enough for the weariness to leave his eyes. He carries so much, far more than he lets on. Between his responsibilities in the village and his nightly visits to the lab, you’ve seen the weight of it on his shoulders, even if he denies it. He always brushes off your concern with a quiet smile and a soft word, but you know better. He’s been tired.

But now, for the first time in what feels like weeks, he’s at peace. His lips slightly parted, move faintly with his steady breaths. The glow of his freckles softens the strong lines of his face, and the faint light of the fire casts delicate shadows across his features. You reach out hesitantly, your fingers brushing against the loose strands of his braids. The texture is smooth beneath your fingertips, and you resist the urge to run your hand through them.

Your gaze lingers on him, drinking in every detail—the soft curve of his jaw, the subtle flutter of his closed eyelids, the rise and fall of his chest. There’s a vulnerability in him now that he never shows when he’s awake, a quiet openness that makes your chest ache. How is it possible to feel this much for someone? You wondered what he was dreaming about, if he ever dreamed of you the way you dreamed of him. He doesn’t stir, but his grip on you tightens slightly, his fingers splaying against your waist as if to keep you close.

The storm rages on outside, the wind howling and the rain pelting the roof, but inside the hut, everything feels still. Safe. You close your eyes, leaning into his hold and letting the rhythm of his breathing lull you into a quiet calm.  The memory of the Tree of Voices came rushing back—the feeling of standing there, surrounded by the pulsing energy of the place, and hearing Neteyam’s words echo in your mind. You are my prayer answered. The weight of those words still lingered, filling you with a quiet, overwhelming sense of belonging.

You felt the faintest stir beneath your touch, and your breath caught as his lips curved into a soft, sleepy smile. Before you could pull away, his head dipped slightly, his nose brushing against your temple behind the edge of your mask.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough from slumber.

Your heart swelled, and you closed your eyes again, leaning into him as a quiet smile tugged at your lips. The storm outside was still raging, but here, in his arms, you felt untouchable. Safe. Loved.

With his warmth surrounding you and the steady sound of his breathing lulling you, you let yourself drift back into sleep, your last thought a quiet prayer of gratitude for the man who held you so completely.

The soft glow of morning filtered through the small cracks in the hut, casting faint streaks of light across the woven walls. The storm had passed, leaving behind the gentle hum of Pandora's forest waking up. You stirred, the warmth of Neteyam’s body behind you grounding you in the half-asleep haze that lingered. But it wasn’t the light or the distant sounds of chirping creatures that fully roused you—it was the soft press of lips against the curve of your neck.

You blinked your eyes open slowly, the sensation pulling you into wakefulness. His warm breath fanned over your skin, and you felt his lips trail languidly along the sensitive dip of your neck. He wasn’t in a hurry, each kiss deliberate, his nose brushing lightly against your hair as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“Neteyam,” you murmured, your voice still husky from sleep, but it was barely a whisper, more like an exhale.

“Shh,” he replied softly, his voice a low, soothing rumble against your ear. “Let me hold you.” His lips curved into a smile against your skin, and you felt the faintest pressure of his teeth grazing your neck before he kissed you again, this time just below your ear.

His arms, strong and steady, tightened around your waist through the thin blanket, and you couldn’t help but relax against him, the warmth of his embrace and the tenderness of his touch lulling you into a state of bliss. He was so careful, so deliberate, as if he were memorizing the shape of you.

One of his hands slipped beneath the blanket, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your stomach. His touch was impossibly gentle, his palm resting there for a moment as though marveling at the softness of you. You shivered under his hand, not from cold, but from the delicate intimacy of it.

His hand moved lower, his thumb brushing over the curve of your hip before skimming the skin of your thigh. His touch was unhurried, exploratory, and you could feel the quiet awe in every movement. He had seen your hands, touched your face, but this was different. Your body, your thighs—he was discovering parts of you he hadn’t touched before, and you could feel his marvel in the way his thumb lingered on the softness of your body.

“Your skin,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your neck. “So soft. Like nothing I’ve ever felt.”

Your cheeks burned at his words, and you bit your lip harder, trying to keep your breathing steady. His thumb grazed the sensitive skin of your thigh again, and you couldn’t suppress the small, trembling sigh that escaped you. You felt his lips curve into another smile against your neck, and you knew he had heard it.

“Do you know what you do to me?” he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion as his hand continued its slow, mesmerizing exploration. “Every part of you... it’s perfect.”

He must have felt the tension in your body, the way you trembled beneath his touch, because his hand stilled for a moment before resuming its exploration. His thumb traced gentle lines along your inner thigh, the sensation both soothing and maddening in its deliberate slowness.

His golden eyes flicked up to yours briefly, curiosity and wonder etched into his features. “So soft here,” he said, his voice filled with quiet awe as his thumb continued its lazy path. “Even softer than I imagined.”

Your hands gripped the edges of the blanket tightly, trying to contain the quiet sighs and hitched breaths that threatened to give you away. But it was impossible to ignore the way his touch ignited a fire beneath your skin, each movement sending a ripple of heat through your body.

“Neteyam,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you reached for him.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, your breath hitching as your eyes locked. His lips curved into a small, knowing smile, and the intensity of his golden stare made your heart race. Slowly and consciously you took a few deep breaths, then sucked in the last big sip of breath and reached for the edge of the mask then pulled it off your head with a quick but purposeful gesture.

Neteyam’s eyes widened slightly, his gaze flicking to your mouth as you leaned in. His lips met yours in a slow, tender kiss, the warmth of his mouth sending a rush of heat through you. The kiss was unhurried, filled with a quiet intimacy that made your chest ache. You could feel the soft rumble of his contented hum as he kissed you back, his hand tightening slightly on your thigh.

The lack of air burned faintly in your lungs, but you didn’t care. For those brief moments, nothing else mattered but the feel of his lips against yours, the way his hand cupped the side of your face, and the quiet connection you shared.

The lack of air made your chest tighten, a sharp reminder of your limits. Reluctantly, you pulled back, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you quickly lowered your mask back into place. The familiar hiss of air filled your ears, and you couldn’t help but laugh, a bright, carefree sound that echoed in the quiet hut. You looked up at him, and the stunned expression on his face made you laugh—light and breathless, your heart full.

Neteyam blinked, then grinned, his ears twitching as his tail flicked behind him. “You’re full of surprises,” he said, his voice warm with amusement.

You laughed again, leaning your forehead against his chest as the sound filled the small hut. “I think we’re even now,” you teased, your voice muffled against him.

Neteyam’s arms tightened around you, his chest rumbling with a soft laugh of his own. “If this is what surprises with you are like, I hope there are many more to come,” he murmured, his lips pressing another gentle kiss to your temple.

And as you sat there, wrapped in his embrace with the morning light streaming in, you couldn’t help but feel that there was nowhere else in the world you’d rather be. You couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled out of you, your chest feeling impossibly light despite the weight of his arms around you.

As the world around you came back into focus, you shifted slightly, your thoughts drifting to the pile of dry clothes near the firepit. “I should get dressed,” you murmured, leaning slightly away from him.

Neteyam hummed softly in acknowledgment, his golden eyes watched you. He loosened his arms reluctantly, letting you slip from his lap and stand. The blanket slipped off your shoulders, pooling at your feet, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. You hesitated for a brief moment, your cheeks warming at the thought of him watching you, but then you decided—no, you wouldn’t shy away this time.

You stood tall and walked toward the firepit, each step deliberate. The cool air brushed against your bare skin, a sharp contrast to the heat you still felt from Neteyam’s gaze. You didn’t need to turn around to know he was watching you, but curiosity got the better of you. As you bent to pick up your clothes, you glanced back over your shoulder, catching him sitting cross-legged, his posture relaxed yet intent. His golden eyes tracked your every movement, glowing faintly in the dim light.

“You’re staring,” you teased, squinting at him with a playful smile.

He tilted his head, his lips quirking into an amused smirk. “You always stare at me,” he shot back smoothly, his tail giving a slow, deliberate flick behind him.

Your cheeks flushed, and you turned back to your clothes quickly. “That’s different,” you mumbled, fumbling with the hem of your top. “You’re almost naked all the time—it’s hard not to stare.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and you immediately regretted it. „When you only wear that… loincloth.”

Neteyam chuckled, the sound low and rich, and you could feel his gaze still on you. “Ah so you admit,” he said, the amusement in his voice unmistakable. “But if you wore what the Na’vi women wear...” He trailed off, and you felt the weight of his words hanging in the air.

Curious, you turned to face him, your top still in your hands. “What?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes darkening as they roamed over you. “If you wore the clothing of my people, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

You froze, heat flooding your cheeks as his meaning sank in. He didn’t have to spell to you to know what he meant. Na’vi women’s clothing was strikingly different from human attire—beaded tops or bare chests adorned only with intricate necklaces, the woven loincloth barely covering the essentials and hanging low on the hips and left the legs bare. The thought of wearing something like that, of leaving your chest bare except for a few strategically placed decorations, made your entire face heat. It made your skin prickle with both embarrassment and something else you didn’t want to name.

“Neteyam,” you muttered, your voice flustered as you turned away from him, hastily pulling your top over your head. Your hands were shaky as you reached for your shorts, your heart pounding in your chest. His gaze felt like a physical touch, and you couldn’t shake the sensation that you were utterly exposed to him.

Neteyam chuckled, the sound low and rich as he leaned forward slightly, his arms draped casually over his knees. “I’m just saying,” he said, his voice full of teasing warmth. “It would be... distracting.”

Your hands fumbled with the waistband of your shorts as you avoided looking at him, your cheeks still burning. “You’re the one who brought it up,” you shot back, though the waver in your voice betrayed your embarrassment.

He laughed again, the sound making your stomach flutter despite your flustered state. “You’re cute when you’re shy,” he said softly, his tone shifting to something more tender.

You glanced at him briefly, his golden eyes still watching you with that same unrelenting focus, and you couldn’t help but smile despite yourself. “And you’re insufferable,” you replied, though there was no real bite to your words. As you buckled your belt, you hesitated, glancing back at him with a teasing smile, despite the warmth still lingering on your cheeks. “But maybe you should make me that outfit if you want to see me in it so badly.” you said, trying to gain the upper hand.

The effect was immediate. Neteyam’s eyes darkened further, the playful glint giving way to something far more intense. His posture shifted subtly, his lean frame exuding a quiet, predatory energy as he watched you. He leaned forward more, his elbows digging into his knees, his golden eyes locked onto yours with a possessive glint that sent a shiver down your spine.

For a moment, you felt frozen under his gaze, your breath hitching as the weight of his attention pressed against you. This wasn’t the teasing Neteyam you were used to—this was something primal, something that made you feel small and utterly his. Your fingers tightened around your belt buckle, and you quickly looked away, heat rising to your face as you struggled to compose yourself.

When you dared to glance back, the possessive look was gone, replaced by his usual soft. amused smile. He tilted his head slightly, his tail flicking lazily behind him as if nothing had happened. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said lightly, his voice warm, as though he hadn’t just stolen the breath from your lungs moments ago.

You turned back to the dark firepit, your heart racing. For the first time, you felt truly vulnerable under his gaze—not because of your bare skin, but because of the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. And despite your flustered state, you couldn’t deny the way your heart leapt at the thought.

You finished lacing your boots, your heart still racing from the intensity of Neteyam’s gaze just moments ago. The warmth of his gaze lingered even after the moment passed, and as you took a step closer to him, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of confidence despite the faint flush still warming your cheeks. He was still sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching you approach with that same calm, confident expression that sent your pulse skittering.

You took a step closer to him, stopping just in front of where he sat. “You're having fun seeing how I react, right?” you asked, a teasing edge to your voice.

His lips curved into a slow, mischievous smile, his tail flicking lazily behind him. “Maybe,” he said, his tone light but his gaze unwavering. “It’s hard not to enjoy when you’re so... expressive.”

Without hesitation, you circled your arms around his shoulders, leaning down until the thin glass of your mask pressed gently against his forehead. The height difference disappeared when he was sitting like this, making you feel closer than ever. Your face was still slightly flushed from earlier, but you closed your eyes, grounding yourself in his warmth, his scent, his presence. Your fingers found the long braids at the back of his head, gently brushing through them as your thumbs caressed his scalp. His eyes softened, a quiet rumble of contentment vibrating in his chest as he leaned into your touch.

Neteyam’s hands were slow to move but deliberate, his larger palms gliding up your thighs, sending a shiver through you as his thumbs brushed against your bare skin. They stopped at your waist, his fingers splaying gently just above the hem of your shorts. His thumbs began a lazy, circular caress, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from sighing at the sensation.

“You know,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing, “sometimes I hate you a little bit.”

Neteyam opened his eyes, meeting yours with a mock-innocent expression that made you want to simultaneously laugh and smack him. “Hate me?” he echoed, his tone dripping with faux hurt. “What have I done to deserve such cruel words?”

“Yes,” you said with a soft laugh, your fingers still playing with his braids. “Because you always do this—make me feel completely flustered, and you enjoy every second of it.”

His smirk deepened, and without another word, he dipped his head forward. His lips brushed against your uncovered collarbone, slow and deliberate, as though savoring the moment. The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a jolt through you, and your knees wavered slightly, threatening to buckle beneath you. You close your eyes tightly, biting your bottom lip to keep yourself steady, but it’s a losing battle.

His hands steadied you, his thumbs still caressing your waist as he chuckled softly against your skin. “I like this side of you,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvety whisper.

You felt your breath hitch, your heart racing as his lips lingered. The sensation of his mouth against your skin was electrifying, and your hands tightened slightly in his braids. “Neteyam...” you breathed, your voice trembling.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his golden eyes warm and teasing. “Yes?” he asked, the word a playful hum.

You shook your head with a laugh, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “We should head back,” you said, your voice steadier now. “I still need time to dig my own grave in front of the outpost. Norm is going to kill me.”

Neteyam’s ears twitched toward your words, a grin spreading across his face. He chuckled, the sound low and rich as he dipped his head. “Dig your grave?” he echoed, amusement lacing his tone. “Perhaps I should say my goodbyes now.”

He pressed another lingering kiss to your skin, this time closer to your other collarbone. You gasped softly, stepping back with a squeak as his hands reluctantly released you.

“You’re evil,” you said, laughing as you took another step away, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “I sleep one night in your arms, and you’re already this bold, mister.”

He leaned back, his golden eyes sparkling with mischief as he watched you with a satisfied grin. “Bold?” he repeated, his voice dripping with amusement. “I’d say... comfortable.”

You shook your head, laughing as you turned and walked toward the hut’s entrance. You pushed aside the flap of the hut and stepped to the edge, only to freeze in place. “Whoa—what the fuck?” you blurted, gripping the wooden frame for support. “Were we this high up all night? Jesus Christ...” You leaned slightly to peer over the edge, your stomach lurching as you took in the dizzying height.

Neteyam’s laugh rumbled behind you as he rose gracefully to his feet. “When you sat on the back of my ikran, you weren’t afraid of heights,” he said, stepping closer.

You glanced back at him with a squint, your knuckles white as you clung to the hut’s edge. “Yeah, because you held me,” you shot back, your tone full of pointed exasperation. “Big difference.”

He stepped past you effortlessly, his movements as fluid as water. Without hesitation, he walked onto the thick branch outside the hut, his bare feet finding purchase on the damp bark with ease and his tail swaying for balance. You watched in awe as he balanced there, his tall frame steady and confident against the backdrop of the forest canopy. He tilted his head back slightly and let out a high-pitched note, the sound carrying through the trees with an elegance that seemed second nature to him.

Moments later, his ikran appeared, its massive wings slicing through the air as it landed gracefully at the far end of the branch. Neteyam turned back to you, his golden eyes soft as they met yours. He extended a hand toward you, his smile warm and inviting.

“Come,” he said simply, his voice steady and reassuring. “Trust me.”

You hesitated, your grip tightening on the doorway as you glanced at the branch. “You make it look too easy,” you muttered under your breath, your heart hammering in your chest. But when your eyes met his, the warmth and trust in his gaze gave you the courage to let go of the doorframe and take the first step.

He didn’t look away, his hand steady and waiting as he watched your every movement. The morning sun cast a golden glow over him, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the quiet strength in his stance. For a moment, you felt as though he wasn’t just calling you to the ikran—but to him, to everything he represented, to the world he had already begun to open to you. The trust you felt in that moment was absolute, and as your fingers laced with his, you knew there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

Neteyam’s ikran landed with a powerful yet graceful sweep of its wings, the forest clearing giving way to the familiar sight of the outpost. The sun was just beginning to rise higher, its golden rays casting long shadows on the damp ground. As the creature settled, you clung to Neteyam’s strong arms, and he carefully helped you down from the saddle. Your feet touched the earth, and you wobbled slightly, still a little unsteady from the flight and the emotional whirlwind of the night before.

Neteyam’s hand lingered on your waist, steadying you, his golden eyes warm as they searched your face. “You’re back safe,” he said softly, his tail flicking contentedly behind him.

“Thank you,” you murmured as you smiled up at him, feeling a pang of guilt that this sweet moment would soon end and when you glanced up at him, his golden eyes sparkled with amusement.

“You’re nervous,” he murmured, the faintest hint of amusement in his tone.

“Of course, I’m nervous,” you replied, craning your neck to glance back at him. “Norm is going to kill me. And Kate? She’ll resurrect me just to kill me again.” You looked down to the damp grass and then back to him. „You should go,” you said, stepping back slightly and smoothing your hair self-consciously. “I’m sure your father has been dying to give you a lecture. Good luck. Maybe your ears won’t fall off.”

Neteyam snorted, clearly amused. “I think I’ll survive,” he said, his tone light. “But thank you for the encouragement.”

You were about to respond when the airgate of the outpost hissed open, and Kate stormed out, her hands planted firmly on her hips, the mask on her face glinted in the sunshine. Her sharp eyes zeroed in on you, and your heart sank. Oh no. “You!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the quiet morning.

“Kate, I can explain—” you began, but she didn’t let you finish.

“Explain? You better have one hell of an explanation,” she snapped, pointing a finger at you. “Do you have any idea how terrified we were when we couldn’t find you this morning? We checked your room, the lab, everywhere! And then Norm—” She broke off, throwing her hands in the air. “Norm was ready to send out a search party! No note, no message, nothing!”

You hesitated, glancing up at Neteyam for support, but he remained quiet, his expression neutral. Taking a deep breath, you decided to tell the truth—or at least part of it. “I was with Neteyam,” you said quickly, your words tumbling out before you could second-guess them. “There was a storm, and we ended up staying in a hunter’s hut.”

Kate’s mouth fell open, her expression shifting from frustration to shock. For a moment, she said nothing, just stared at you as though you’d grown a second head. Then, slowly, a grin spread across her face—a grin so smug and knowing that you felt your cheeks heat instantly.

“Oh,” Kate said, drawing out the word with a tone that made your stomach flip. “You were with him all night, huh?”

“It’s not what it sounds like!” you protested, your voice rising slightly. “We were stuck in the storm—it was pouring rain—and there was this hut in the middle of nowhere, so we just... stayed there. That’s it!”

Even as the words left your mouth, you cringed. Saying it out loud only made it sound worse, and you could practically feel the weight of Kate’s teasing grin.

“Uh-huh,” Kate said, her tone dripping with amusement. “A hut in the middle of nowhere, with Neteyam, all night. Sounds totally innocent.”

Neteyam’s snort of laughter didn’t help your rapidly spiraling embarrassment. You shot him a glare, which only seemed to amuse him more, especially when his tail swished and slapped lightly against your thigh, as if to tease you further. You swatted at it halfheartedly, your face burning as you struggled to explain.

He raised a hand to cover his mouth, looking off to the side as though inspecting the treetops, but you didn’t miss the way his shoulders shook with barely contained laughter and you resisted the urge to kick him. He wasn’t helping, especially when his tail flicked again, brushing your thigh like he couldn’t resist teasing you further.

You groaned, your face burning as you turned back to Kate. “It wasn’t like that, okay? I swear!”

Kate, meanwhile, looked like she was having the time of her life. She clapped her hands together, her grin so wide it was almost cartoonish. “Well,” she said, stepping back toward the airgate with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I guess I’ll leave you to it. Good luck with Norm, by the way. He’s furious.”

“Kate—wait—” you tried, but she was already slipping back inside, the door hissing shut behind her. Her laughter echoed faintly through the walls, leaving you standing there, red-faced and mortified.

And with that, she disappeared through the airgate, leaving you standing there, mortified and red-faced. You turned back to Neteyam, your eyes narrowing as you caught sight of his grin.

“Don’t even start,” you warned, pointing a finger at him.

Neteyam’s quiet chuckle drew your attention, and you peeked at him. He was still grinning, his arms crossed as he watched you with an infuriating mix of amusement and affection. “You handled that well,” he said, his tone light and teasing.

“You’re not helping,” you grumbled, though a reluctant smile tugged at your lips. Despite the embarrassment, you couldn’t bring yourself to be truly mad at him—not when he looked at you like that, as if you were the most entertaining thing he’d seen all day.

His golden eyes sparkled with amusement, his tail flicking lazily behind him. “I didn’t say anything,” he said, his voice light with humor. Neteyam stepped closer, his towering form casting a shadow over you as he leaned down slightly, his expression softening. “Let them think what they want,” he said quietly, his tone laced with sincerity. “I don’t care what they say. I only care about you.”

The earnestness in his voice made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, you forgot about Kate, Norm, and the outpost entirely. You swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the warmth rising in your chest, and gave him a small, shy smile.

You looked at the outpost and then turned back to Neteyam, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you motioned for him to crouch down. He raised a curious eyebrow but obliged, lowering himself until his golden eyes were level with yours, his tail swaying lazily behind him on the tall grass as he waited for whatever you had planned.

Leaning closer, you tilted your head and fixed him with a mock glare. “I will avenge how smug you can be,” you declared, your voice filled with feigned annoyance.

Neteyam chuckled, clearly amused by your attempt to look intimidating. His lips curved into that insufferably charming grin that always managed to disarm you, and his ears flicked forward, betraying his curiosity. “Oh?” he teased, his deep voice rumbling. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Without warning, you reached out and tugged lightly on one of his long braids, a playful grin spreading across your face. “That’s what you get,” you added with a huff, turning on your heel as if to stalk away dramatically.

But you didn’t make it far. His hands moved like liquid, circling around your waist before you could take more than a single step. With one smooth motion, he pulled you back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you as he chuckled low in his throat.

You couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of you, the sound bright and unrestrained. “Neteyam!” you exclaimed, trying and failing to sound exasperated as his warmth surrounded you completely. “Let me go!”

“No,” he said simply, his tone teasing as he buried his face against the curve of your neck. “Not when I’ve caught you so easily.” His arm tightened slightly, keeping you close, and he dipped his head, his lips brushing against your ear. “You shouldn’t start a game you can’t win, ma yawne,” he murmured, his tone teasing but full of affection.

You tilted your head back, leaning against him as your laughter subsided. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you reached up and unhooked your mask, pulling it away from your face. The sudden rush of unfiltered air against your face made your lungs tighten, but you ignored it, turning in his arms to face him.

Before he could say a word, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was both soft and urgent. His initial surprise melted almost instantly, and he responded with a tenderness that made your chest ache. The moment was brief but filled with quiet intensity, his large hands settling gently on your waist as he held you steady.

When you broke away, you quickly slipped your mask back into place, inhaling deeply as the filtered air filled your lungs. You glanced up at him, your cheeks flushed, and saw the way his gaze lingered on you, soft yet smoldering.

You laughed, stepping out of his embrace and turning to face him fully. “You should go,” you said, your tone light but firm. “I want my love back in one piece.”

He raised an eyebrow at your choice of words, the playful glint in his eyes returning. “Your love?” he repeated, his voice teasing.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the warmth that spread across your cheeks. “Yes, my love,” you said, crossing your arms. You tilted your head, a playful glint in your eyes. “If you survive this,” you said, stepping closer and placing a hand lightly on his chest where is his heart, “I might have something for you.”

His eyebrows rose, his amusement quickly giving way to intrigue. “Something?” he repeated, his voice dropping slightly.

You smirked, stepping back and turning toward the airgate. “Only if you survive, you’ll find out,” you said over your shoulder, your tone teasing as you walked away, leaving him standing there with a curious, almost eager expression.

Behind you, Neteyam’s low chuckle followed, the sound warm and rich. “I’ll hold you to that.” he called after you, his voice filled with affection and something else—something that made your cheeks flush.

You waved him off with a laugh, turning back toward the airgate as he watched you with a lingering, affectionate gaze. “Go,” you urged, glancing over your shoulder with a grin. “And good luck, mighty warrior.”

Neteyam chuckled, stepping back toward his ikran with a graceful ease that only he could manage. “Until later, ma yawne,” he called, his voice warm and steady.

You watched as he mounted his ikran, his every movement fluid and confident. As he took off into the sky, your heart swelled with a mix of affection and anticipation, already counting down the moments until you’d see him again.

As you walked into the outpost and put your mask back on the wall, your boots echoed softly on the metallic floor, but the moment you stepped into the main area, you froze. Standing dead center with his arms crossed and a furious scowl was Norm, his face a mixture of disappointment and frustration. His glasses had slid slightly down the bridge of his nose, and he looked every inch the disapproving mentor you had been dreading.

“Well, well...” he began, his voice dripping with exasperation as his sharp eyes locked onto you. “Look who decided to grace us with their presence this beautiful day.”

You froze mid-step glancing around, you saw that almost the entire xenobotany team had gathered in the main lab. Kate, Brian, and even Max were there, clearly waiting for the show. Judging by their barely suppressed grins, they were thoroughly entertained by the fact that Norm looked like he was about to combust.

“Uh, hi, Norm,” you said sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck as you avoided his piercing gaze.

“Hi?” he repeated, his voice raising an octave as he took a step closer, his hands now on his hips. “That’s all you have to say? Hi? Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea how reckless—how stupid—that was? Do you know how close I was to declaring a Code Red?”

You shrank under his furious stare, glancing toward the others for support. Kate was biting her lip, clearly holding back laughter, and Brian wasn’t even trying to hide his amused grin. You were on your own.

You opened your mouth, then closed it, unsure of how to respond. “I—”

“Don’t. Just don’t,” he said, his tone exasperated as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you have any idea what kind of morning we’ve had? Do you? I’ll tell you,” he interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “I spent the last three hours wondering if I’d have to report to the RDA that we lost one of our best scientists because she decided it was a good idea to sneak out into the forest in the middle of a storm!”

You cringed. “Norm, I—”

“No,” he snapped, pointing at you. “Do you know how that report would look? Huh? ‘Dear RDA, we regret to inform you that Dr. Genius over here decided to take an unauthorized stroll into Pandora’s wilds during a category five storm and didn’t come back.’ How would I even write that? ‘Oops, sorry, she got eaten by a thanator’? Or maybe, ‘tragically struck by lightning’? Or better yet, ‘simply vanished into the night, never to be seen again’! Oh, sorry, we lost one of our key xenobotanists because she decided to wander off into the forest during a storm!’” He huffed, pacing now. “And not just any forest—Pandora’s forest! A planet where literally everything is trying to kill you! How would I explain to your family back on Earth that you just... died?”

“Norm, I—”

“No,” he interrupted, spinning to face you again. “You don’t get to talk right now. I want to know what the actual fuck you were thinking! What, you saw some glowing flowers out there and thought, ‘Oh, this is a great time for a late-night stroll’?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, and you winced as he threw his hands up again. “And a storm! A storm, for Eywa’s sake! Do you know how many people have died in those storms when they first came her to Pandora?”

“Well,” Kate finally said, breaking the silence with a wicked grin, “I mean... she was with Neteyam all night.”

The room went dead silent. Norm blinked at her, his arms falling to his sides. “What?” he said, his voice flat, like he hadn’t quite processed the words.

You froze, your face instantly heating up at the implication of his words. “Norm, it’s not what you think—”

Kate, of course, couldn’t resist. “Oh, I don’t know. It sounds like exactly what I think,” she said with a sly grin, her eyebrows waggling suggestively.

“Kate, shut up,” you hissed, your face now a bright shade of red.

Norm looked between the two of you, his eyes narrowing. “Wait… what is she talking about?” he asked suspiciously.

Kate burst out laughing. “Oh, come on, Norm. She was gone all night. You really think she was out there alone?” Her grin widened as she added, “She was with Neteyam.”

You froze, your embarrassment skyrocketing as every pair of eyes in the room turned to you. “Kate, I swear to Eywa, shut up!” you snapped, grabbing the nearest object—a test tube—and lobbing it at her. She ducked easily, laughing as the tube bounced harmlessly off the counter behind her.

Norm blinked, his frustration briefly replaced by disbelief. “Wait… are you serious? Neteyam?” He looked at your face, and the second he saw the way your cheeks burned crimson, his jaw dropped. “Oh, my god. You’re blushing. You’re actually blushing. I don’t believe this.”

“I’m not blushing!” you lied, your voice rising as you crossed your arms defensively.

“Yeah, sure,” Brian muttered under his breath, earning another glare from you. Brian, ever the instigator, chimed in from his perch. “She’s got guts, I’ll give her that. Though I think Norm aged a decade in the last twelve hours.”

Max, sipping his coffee leisurely, grinned over the rim of his mug. “Pretty sure he had to take an extra blood pressure pill this morning.”

Norm threw his hands in the air, pacing now as he muttered to himself. “This is too much. I’m too old for this. I’m not a babysitter. I’m not equipped to deal with—whatever this is.”

Taking a deep breath, you decided to take control of the situation before it spiraled any further. “Look,” you said firmly, addressing the room. “Yes, I was with Neteyam. He wanted to show me the Tree of Voices.”

“The Tree of—” Norm froze mid-sentence, blinking at you in disbelief. “The Tree of Voices? You’re telling me Neteyam wanted to show you one of the most sacred sites on Pandora? The place his people have guarded fiercely for the last twenty years?”

You nodded hesitantly, feeling every pair of eyes in the room boring into you. “Yes?” you said weakly. “And then the storm hit, so we had to find shelter. We stayed in a hunter’s hut until morning.”

Kate’s grin returned, though this time it was more subdued. “Wow,” she said, her tone almost impressed. “Didn’t think the Omaticaya would let a human anywhere near that place. Let alone... you.”

You glared at her, but before you could respond, Norm let out a long sigh, shaking his head. “I don’t even know what to say to this,” he muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself killed. Or worse.”

“I know,” you said quietly, feeling a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry, Norm. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

He waved a hand dismissively, his frustration simmering down into resignation. “Just... don’t do it again, okay? I can’t handle another morning like this.”

Before you could respond, Kate and Brian stood up, brushing off her hands. “Well, I’ll leave you to deal with Norm’s wrath,” she said cheerfully as they heading toward the door. “Good luck, though. He’s still pretty mad.”

You watched them go, a mix of relief and annoyance bubbling in your chest. “I hate her sometimes,” you muttered under your breath.

Max chuckled, raising his coffee mug in a mock toast. “Welcome back,” he said with a grin.

You rolled your eyes, but despite the embarrassment, a small smile tugged at your lips. As much as you wanted to throttle Kate, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort in the chaos. You were home.

Neteyam landed gracefully in the center of the Omaticaya village, his ikran screeching softly before settling its wings. His muscles ached from the long flight, but his mind was still occupied with the events of the night before—the way you had looked beneath the Tree of Voices, the way your warmth had felt against him, the way your lips had clung to his in that desperate kiss before you put your mask back on. He could still hear your laughter ringing in his ears, still see the way your face had flushed when he teased you.

But before he could even take a proper breath, a familiar voice cut through the morning bustle of the village.

“There you are, finally,” Kiri’s voice rang out, sharp with both irritation and relief. She stood near the central fire pit, her arms crossed, her tail flicking with barely-contained exasperation. “Where the hell have you been?”

Neteyam exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he prepared himself for the inevitable interrogation. “It is... a long story,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, a long story? You mean the one where you vanished all night without telling anyone?” Kiri pressed, stepping closer. “Do you know how mad Dad is? He’s been losing his mind since dawn.”

Neteyam sighed, already feeling the weight of his father’s wrath settling on his shoulders. “I can imagine.”

“Imagine?” Kiri scoffed. “No, I have to imagine, because I actually had no idea where you were. Unlike Lo’ak here, who for some reason—” she shot a glare to the approaching figure of their younger brother “—decided to cover for you with the dumbest excuse I have ever heard.”

Lo’ak strolled up casually, arms swinging at his sides, his expression filled with smug amusement. “You're welcome, by the way.”

Neteyam raised an eyebrow. “Cover for me?”

Lo’ak smirked, crossing his arms. “Yeah, big bro, you owe me one. Dad was this close to sending a search party after you, and guess who took the heat instead?”

Neteyam’s ears twitched slightly in surprise. “What did you tell him?”

Lo’ak grinned, his tail swaying proudly. “Told him you went out hunting. For Tuk. She apparently needed some rare bird feathers or something.”

Kiri made a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “That was your excuse? Bird feathers? Lo’ak, that is the worst cover story I have ever heard.”

“Hey,” Lo’ak shrugged, “Dad bought it.”

Kiri rolled her eyes. “No, he didn’t. He still doesn’t believe it. He just hasn’t had the chance to properly rip Neteyam apart yet.”

Neteyam pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling the headache forming. “Great.” He exhaled and straightened, his expression turning more serious. Neteyam hesitated for a moment, his golden eyes flicking between his siblings. He knew they would find out sooner or later, and he trusted them more than anyone else. With a deep breath, he finally said, “I was with her.”

Lo’ak blinked, confused. “Her? Who—oh.” His eyes widened as realization dawned. “Wait, you mean her? The human?”

Neteyam nodded, his expression steady but unrepentant. “I took her to the Tree of Voices.”

Kiri’s jaw dropped. “The Tree of Voices?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly in disbelief. “Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea what Father would say if he found out? Or worse—what Mother would say?”

Lo’ak let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Bro, if Mom finds out, you’re dead. Like, actually dead. She’d probably skin you alive. You’re not even trying to keep a low profile anymore, are you?”

“I know,” Neteyam said calmly, though his tone carried a hint of defiance. “But I wanted her to see it.”

Kiri threw her hands up in exasperation. “Neteyam, Mother barely tolerates the scientists who visits us. She only allows them because she knows they mean no harm and because Father vouches for them. But bringing one of them to the Tree of Voices? That is crossing a line.”

“She’s not just a scientist,” Neteyam said firmly, his voice steady as he met Kiri’s gaze. “At least not for me…”

Lo’ak chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “Bro, if Mom finds out you spent the night with a human—”

“Nothing happened.” Neteyam shot him a sharp look, but the slight flush that crept up his neck didn’t go unnoticed.

Kiri raised a brow, unimpressed. “Still. Mom will bring hellfire if she finds out.” She sighed, shaking her head before eyeing him a little closer. “But at least you look like you finally slept.”

Neteyam frowned. “What?” the slight flick of his tail and the way his ears dipped gave him away.

Kiri’s lips twitched into a small, knowing smile. “You’ve looked like absolute shit for weeks.”she added, her voice lightening.

Lo’ak snorted, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the tree. “Yeah, you were starting to look like an overworked ikran trainer. What, did she sing you a lullaby or something?”

Neteyam rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips twitched upward in a faint smile. “I didn’t realize my appearance was such a topic of discussion.”

“It is when it’s that bad,” Kiri shot back, grinning. “But seriously, you should be careful. If Mom finds out—”

“She won’t,” Neteyam interrupted, his tone firm but calm. “I’ll handle it.”

Kiri shook her head, a mix of exasperation and fondness on her face. “You’re impossible. Just try not to give Father a heart attack, okay? He’s already pacing around like a trapped nantang.”

Neteyam nodded, his expression resolute. “I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry.”

Lo’ak gave him a skeptical look but didn’t press further. Instead, he smirked and said, “Good luck, bro. You’re gonna need it.”

As Neteyam turned to leave, Kiri’s voice stopped him. “Hey,” she called, her tone softening. When he looked back, she offered him a small, genuine smile. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you look happier. Just... don’t screw it up.”

Neteyam’s gaze softened, and he nodded. “Thanks, Kiri.”

With that, he turned and headed toward the center of the village, bracing himself for the storm that awaited him. But even as he prepared for his father’s inevitable lecture, he couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of contentment. For the first time in weeks, he felt... steady. Grounded. And it was all because of you.

The walk to his family’s kelku felt heavier than usual. Neteyam’s steps were measured, his shoulders squared, though a faint tension ran through his frame. He’d faced countless challenges before, but there was something uniquely daunting about walking into a lecture from his father. Jake Sully might have been born human, but his authority as olo’eyktan carried the weight of Eywa herself.

As he approached the entrance, Neteyam could already sense his father’s presence inside. The faint shift of movement, the deliberate pacing—Jake was waiting for him. Bracing himself, Neteyam ducked into the kelku, the familiar space feeling more oppressive than comforting at that moment.

Sure enough, Jake was standing near the center, his arms crossed, his expression stern. His amber eyes locked onto Neteyam the moment he stepped inside, and the weight of his disappointment was almost palpable.

“Finally,” Jake began, his voice low and steady, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. “You want to tell me where the hell you were all night?”

Neteyam kept his posture calm, though his heart raced beneath the surface. “I was at the Tree of Voices,” he said evenly, the lie slipping out as smoothly as he could manage. “I needed to connect with Eywa.”

Jake’s brows furrowed, his ears twitching slightly as he stared at his son, clearly weighing the truth of his words. “The Tree of Voices,” he repeated, his tone skeptical. “And you couldn’t tell anyone? Not me, not your mother, no one? You just disappeared.”

Neteyam’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “I didn’t want to disturb anyone,” he said. “It was... personal.”

Jake let out a sharp breath, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “Personal,” he echoed, his tone laced with disbelief. “Neteyam, you can’t just go off like that. You’ve got responsibilities. People look to you. If something had happened—”

“Nothing happened,” Neteyam interrupted, his voice firmer now. “I was careful. And I was where Eywa’s presence is strongest. I needed clarity.”

Jake’s gaze narrowed, his arms tightening across his chest. “Clarity,” he said flatly. “You know, you’re starting to sound more and more like your mother when she’s trying to avoid answering my questions.”

Neteyam’s lips twitched into a faint smile at that, but he quickly schooled his expression. “I’m telling you the truth,” he said. “I was at the Tree of Voices. That’s it.”

For a moment, Jake just stared at him, his jaw working as though he was biting back another lecture. Then he sighed, his shoulders loosening just slightly. “You know you scared the hell out of me, right?” he said, his voice quieter now. “And your Mother. We thought—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “You can’t just disappear like that, son.”

Neteyam nodded, his expression earnest. “I understand,” he said.

Jake studied him for a long moment, his sharp gaze searching for any cracks in his story. Neteyam held his ground, his expression calm and composed, though he could feel his father’s scrutiny like a physical weight.

Finally, Jake let out a short, resigned sigh. “And what about the feathers?” he asked, his tone sharp again. “Lo’ak said you were out hunting for Tuk. That true?”

Neteyam stiffened, his ears twitching slightly—a subtle but telling reaction. Jake’s eyes narrowed, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Oh,” he said, dragging the word out. “So he lied to me.”

Neteyam didn’t respond, but the slight shift in his posture was all the confirmation Jake needed. He shook his head, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “Damn kids.”

“Well,” Jake said, his voice dry as he uncrossed his arms and gestured toward the exit, “you can bet Lo’ak’s going to get an earful for that. But right now, you’d better get your act together. You’re not a kid anymore, Neteyam. You can’t afford to make mistakes like this.”

Neteyam inclined his head, his expression respectful but distant. “I understand, sir,” he said quietly.

Jake gave him a long, searching look before nodding. “Good,” he said simply. Then, with a slight wave of his hand, he dismissed him. “Now get out of here. I’ve got enough headaches without dealing with you and Lo’ak’s crap all day.”

Neteyam turned to leave, his steps measured and steady, but the tension in his shoulders only eased slightly once he was outside. The lecture had gone about as well as he could have hoped, but the weight of his lie sat heavy in his chest.

Still, as he thought of the way she had smiled at him that morning, the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her kiss—he knew he’d do it all over again.

Part 16: To want

[nameless-ken]

Carol noticing Daryl totally getting soft for the reader, falling in love. Merle teases Daryl for obviously “not being man enough” but reader is the perfect sweetness in his bitter life. Slowly, the whole group notices his soft spot, and playfully tease him.

warnings: Fluff & Angst <3

words: 1.5K

masterlist

hope you like this one!!

We all knew he liked her long before he even realized himself. Before he ever spoke a word about his feelings. It was in the eyes, the way he looked at her and watched her when she wasn’t looking. To him, she was like the first drop of rain in the summer heat or the first flower bud on his favorite rose bush that he meticulously always cares for. It was obvious to all of us. That spark in his eyes when she spoke such kind words, the ones he’s been waiting for his whole life. Of course we laughed and teased him but deep down, that’s the one thing in this new world that all of us are looking for, hoping for. 

“She changed her hair today.” Daryl jumps slightly from Carol’s sudden voice next to him. 

“Huh.” Daryl grunts, quickly reverting his eyes to the bow in his hand as he continues to clean it. 

“You should see if she needs help.” 

“She’s capable on her own.” Daryl looks at you again, stacking logs in the ashes of last night's fire, getting everything ready for another night. 

“Yeah, you’re right. She always has your eyes following her anyways.” Carol smirks, nudging his shoulder. 

“I don’t follow her everywhere.”

“If that’s your story, I would offer soon or else she might think it’s creepy.” Carol jokes and walks away to help Lori. 

You situate the logs in the firepit and grab your basket, hoping today will be a day you can forge anything in the woods. You turn to let someone know where you’re heading and your eyes meet Daryl’s. 

You smile kindly and he almost harshly looks away. You know he doesn’t mean harm but you can’t help but feel quite lost when it comes to your relationship with Daryl. You’ve always tried to speak to him with kind, soft words but he rarely ever returns anything but a grunt or a nod. 

“Hey there sweetcheeks. How about you take a break and let’s go have some fun?” Merle appears behind you. You freeze, clutching the basket to the front of your body. 

“What’d you say? A pretty thing like you could use some ruining.” You feel him grab your braid and slightly pull it. 

“Merle, leave the girl alone.” Your body jumps and turns at the sound of Daryl’s loud voice, almost in shock. You’ve only heard Daryl shout a few times with Shane. 

“Stay out of this brotha.” Merle closes in on you again. 

“Merle,” You’re suddenly pulled back by your arm, behind Daryl. “You know the rules.” 

“Well look at you little brother. All pussywhipped and shit. I’ve noticed what’s been going on here for quite a while now, actually everyone has.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Daryl snarks. 

“You can’t even be man enough to speak the truth. You’ve always been weak, especially when we were kids. Not surprised anything has changed.”

“Why do you always have to be such a dick all the time?” You step out from behind Daryl, hating the way Merle always speaks to him. 

“See, even got your bitch to stand up for you.” You take a glance at Daryl, shoulders stiff and fists clenched. “You’ve never been able to stand up for yourself little brother even all those times dear old dad was beatin up on you.” Merle chuckles slightly and before you realize, Daryl rushes towards Merle, landing his fist to his face. 

“You son of a bitch.” Merle moans, throwing a punch, hitting Daryl in the mouth. 

You stand there in shock as they wrestle on the ground, punch after punch, until Rick and Shane are pulling them apart. Everyone gathers in a circle, hands over mouths and whispers swirling. 

“Y/N, what happened?” Carol asks once everyone dismisses and Shane takes Merle off. You glance at Daryl, huffing and pacing as Rick is trying to talk to him. 

“Uh, usual Merle.” You catch her eyeline and shrug your shoulders. 

“You’re made for each other, you know.” Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion, not understanding her words. 

“We barely know each other.” 

“I know how closed off Daryl can be, trust me, but I’ve never known a single person with a bigger heart. I’ve started to believe that in this new world we’re in, we don’t have the luxury of waiting and he hasn’t come to realize that yet but I think you have.” 

“How do you tell someone you barely know that you love them?” 

“You just do.” 

Carol leaves you with those thoughts swirling in your head as you figure out your next steps. It's started to get close to sunset now, too late to go forging. You glance over at Daryl’s camp, watching his arms move back and forth as he sharpens one of his bows. You can still see the frustration weighing on his shoulders. 

You’ve never been more scared in your life than now, except when you saw your first walker, but that’s like cracking an egg now. You take a few deep breaths before shaking the nerves away, walking over to Daryl. 

“Hey, are you okay?” You asks already knowing the answer. 

“Fine.” Daryl hides his face behind his hair. 

“I want to thank you for helping me. You always do so much and I don’t think you hear that enough.” 

Daryl looks up at you, blood still on his busted lip and a couple bruises forming on his cheek. You don’t ask him before grabbing your handkerchief in your pocket and pouring some water from your canteen, lowering in front of him and swiping at his lip. 

“I can do it.” He reaches for the handkerchief but you pull away. 

“Let me take care of you.” His eyes lower as you continue cleaning his wound the best you can. 

“You’re important to me Daryl.” You lay the dirty piece of fabric on the log next to him. His eyes still don’t meet yours. “I hate the way Merle speaks to you. You don’t deserve that and I know you don’t need saving and are very capable of protecting yourself. But, I do believe you deserve to hear kind words because you should know how important you are to everyone here.” 

“They only need me for hunting and killing. All I’m good for.” Daryl’s self truth doesn’t shock you but makes you want to wrap him up in your arms for the foreseeable future. 

“That’s far from the truth.” You rest your hand on top of his, watching his eyes move to the connection. “I hope you come to realize someday that you deserve the best, most honest, beautiful, purest love in the world. Not just by others but also by yourself. Everyone has a past and yours will always haunt you but my hope is one day you’ll realize that we don’t have the luxury of waiting to open our hearts and accept that love.” 

“How can you love if you’ve never known of it?” 

“You just do.” You repeat the same words from Carol. “Even if we only make eye contact for a split second everyday, it will always mean the world to me.” You squeeze his hand before standing up and leaving him be, not wanting to rush him. 

Before you step into your tent meters away, you glance over at Daryl again, hands running through his long, dark hair, back hunched over. It’s almost like you two have a second sense connection as his head turns to look at you. 

You smile, heart full just from a single glance, stepping into your tent for the night.

--

You wake up in the middle of the night suddenly, wide awake. You grab your jacket to keep yourself warm from the chilly morning air, stepping out of your tent. You can tell it’s almost dusk. You take gentle steps away from the camp and into a small section of the meadow that has grown wildflowers. You’re still in awe of the beauties of everyday life even in a world of disaster. 

“You’re up early.” Daryl’s voice breaks through the silence around you. 

“So are you.” You turn around, loving the sight of him with his crossbow. 

“I thought about what y-you said.” Daryl is careful with his steps, hesitating slightly as he walks toward you, joining you in the sea of wildflowers. 

“What’d you think?” 

Daryl gulps, hands grasping the strap of his weapon as he sways lightly. “How moments with you, that’s when I wish I could stop time.” 

For some reason, you weren’t expecting that kind of answer but you can’t help the smile that graces your face. 

“Oh my,” You step closer to him, looking into his eyes, “I’m gonna love you for a long long time, Daryl Dixon.” 

“You’ll have to be patient with me.” He whispers, shifting closer, his breath hitting your face. 

“I’ll be here, loving you even in the silence.” 

Daryl’s hands grip the sides of your face, passionately kissing you before you have a chance to say anything else. You grip the front of his shirt, holding so tight, creating wrinkles in the fabric. 

“I didn’t grow up knowing it but I heard stories of a love that comes once in a lifetime and I may not know how to but I’m pretty sure that you are that love of mine.” 

[blo0d1er]

꒷꒦ ˖ ° 🪓 ⋆ ｡ BRING IT

SLASH has posted a new video !

tw for fictional depictions of violence and death !

The video opens without the music, a car backing out of the driveway of a suburban, white picket house. Pick Me’s Kiko waves from the door, bidding her parents farewell. As soon as they’re down the driveway, she retreats inside, flopping unceremoniously onto the couch, immediately pulling out her phone to call “Bin😚” as we see on the screen. The phone rings once and the screen splits to reveal Neverland’s Dabin on the other end. 

“Hey!” he answers cheerily, tossing a ball in the air and catching it with his free hand. 

A smile spreads across her lips at the sound of his voice, a finger twirling in her hair. “Hey, my parents just left,” she kicks up a leg to hook her ankle over her knee, “Are you still coming tonight?”

The ball he tossed up falls against his chest, caught off guard by the question. His cheeks seem to flush pink at the implications, stuttering a reply, “Yeah, I’m there.”

“That’s great–” her smile grows thanks to his agreement until another voice cuts in on the other line.

“We’ll be there, Kiko!” the other voice calls out, clearly unwelcome from the annoyed roll of Kiko’s eyes.

Dabin’s side of the screen zooms out to show DeepDive’s Dowon and Stupid Cupid��s Jeanne messing around on the couch behind Dabin. 

Jeanne seems to be trying to shush him with a hand over his mouth, unsuccessful as he dodges and wrestles her arm down. “We’ll bring booze!” she offers as reconciliation when she fails at shutting him up.

Kiko sighs, her unruly friends experts at wearing on her nerves.

“Sorry, Koko,” Dabin mutters an apology on their behalf, his expression sheepish but not making a move to deny them their interruption.

“It’s fine,” she huffs. “Just tell them to be here in an hour.”

“Got it,” he nods and his side of the screen is snuffed out as Kiko ends the call.

She lets out another annoyed exhale, hitting call on another contact labeled “KK.”

“Hiii,” Krush’s Kaleina greets over the phone as she slides into view.

“Come over?” Kiko asks, rolling over onto her stomach, her elbows digging into the plush brown leather. 

“What happened to Dabin coming?” Kaleina asks, pressing the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she files her nails, perched on her bed.

“Dowon and Jeanne are coming too, now,” Kiko rolls her eyes again at the thought.

Kaleina lets out a snort of a laugh, her meddling friends always so predictable. “Right. Be there in 20,” she kisses the microphone end of her phone as a goodbye.

Kiko kisses back, ending the call and dropping the phone to the couch. She stands and walks out of frame, the camera slowly zooming in on the window in the back of the room, framing the shadowy dusk outdoors. 

The music begins, the intro notes playing as a figure wearing a fox-like mask steps out of the shadows.

As the first verse ensues, Kiko’s guests begin to arrive. They’re setting up a bonfire in her backyard, Dabin and Dowon stacking wood in the firepit while the girls chat and stock the drinks in the fridge just inside the kitchen. You can tell by Kiko’s flushed cheeks and Kaleina and Jeanne’s grins that they’re teasing her for her failed plans of a night with Dabin. Eventually they all gather outside around the lit fire, bundled up in blankets, laughing and messing around. Dabin and Kiko share a blanket, cuddled up together, but they seem a bit shy about it. Dowon and Jeanne sit close together as well, occasionally play fighting over the room on their seat.

Kaleina stands and heads back inside, climbing the stairs to use the bathroom. She’s washing her hands in the sink when we see a figure wearing a bunny mask approach behind her in the reflection in the bathroom mirror. The last we see of Kaleina before the scene cuts out is her eyes suddenly widening when she notices the masked person behind her.

Jeanne is the first to notice Kaleina’s absence getting longer than usual and she decides to go see what’s taking her so long. Jeanne follows Kaleina’s footsteps up the stairs as the pre-chorus begins. The bathroom door at the top of the stairs is slightly ajar, and water is beginning to run out from under it, tinged slightly pink. As Jeanne slowly approaches, pushing the door open all the way, we’re met with a horrific scene. Kaleina’s body is slumped in the bathtub, her bloodied head resting against the running faucet, the water overflowing onto the floor. The water in the tub is red, a smattering of blood on the shattered mirror above the sink creates the vision of her face being smashed into it.

The music cuts out entirely, the only thing viewers can hear being Jeanne’s harsh and panicked breaths. A second later, she lets out a blood-curdling scream, transitioning right into the beginning of the chorus.

The same bunny-masked killer slams the door open behind Jeanne and she shoves them backwards, tumbling out into the hallway. Their body blocks the stairs so she runs the opposite way, towards the bedroom at the end of the hall. She’s just about to slam the door to the bedroom shut, nearly escaping the killer when their arm catches the edge of the door just in time to keep it from shutting in place. The pair struggle against the door when another figure steps out behind Jeanne, unnoticed as she fights tooth and nail to get the door shut. 

The figure behind her, wearing a mask mimicking a crying boy with a crown perched on his head lunges forward and wraps their arms around Jeanne’s neck. They go lurching forward back into the hallway as the bunny killer wrenches the door from her grasp. As she struggles against the two figures, a knife flashes in the light before it’s sheathed between her ribs, red blooming on her sweater. She manages to shove the boy king off her back before she’s met with another knife to the abdomen. As she stumbles back, clutching at the blade sticking out of her stomach. The boy king regains their posture and shoves her over the banister to the first floor below. She falls in slow motion, her hair framing her wide eyes and gasping face before she crumples to the floor of Kiko’s entryway, just as the chorus ends.

The remaining trio outside hear the echo of Jeanne’s scream, their heads whipping to face the house where it came from. They exchange wary glances and Dowon shrugs, standing to investigate. He laughs it off, assuring Dabin and Kiko that it’s probably nothing. It’s obvious Kiko isn’t so convinced, but Dabin tightens his arm around her protectively as she anxiously grips the edge of the blanket.

Dowon heads inside, grabbing himself a beer from the fridge before venturing deeper into the house. He calls out Jeanne’s name to no response. As he rounds the corner into the entryway, he sees the pool of her blood smeared against the hardwood, but her body is gone. His brows furrow and his head swings around, calling out her name again. The scene cuts and we see a shotgun being cocked, raised to the eye of a mask that looks like a buck’s head, antlers protruding from the top. The trigger is pulled and we see Dowon again stumbling forward to his hands and knees, the beer bottle dropping from his hand and shattering against the wood. 

He struggles to scramble away from the attacker, one hand pressed to the gunshot wound in his stomach. He slips on the mixture of blood and spilled beer covering the floor, broken glass an added obstacle as the killer slowly approaches behind him, cocking the gun once more. A heavy black boot comes down on Dowon’s back, forcing him flat against the floor. His head turns, eyes pleading with the masked killer. It’s the last we see of Dowon, the camera turning to the antlered figure raising the gun once more and squeezing the trigger.

The sounds of the gunshots have fully alerted Dabin and Kiko now. They jump up at the sound of the first, frozen and exchanging concerned looks, debating on what they should do. At the sound of the second, Kiko is frantically pulling out her phone and fumbling to call the police. Dabin slowly approaches the door leading to the kitchen from outside, but Kiko grabs his arm, silently shaking her head, pleading him not to go inside. He reassures her, his expression steeled in determination as he breaks from her hold. She hesitates for a moment before following close behind him. 

The house is silent, but the pre-chorus builds once more as the pair enter cautiously through the kitchen door. Kiko’s hand is shaking, pressing her phone to her ear, but when she pulls it away to look quizically at the screen, we can see that she strangely no longer has any service. They’re on their own. 

Dabin grabs a knife from the block on the kitchen counter, wielding it in front of him as he slowly moves through the house, shielding Kiko behind him. They pass through the living room, entering the foyer to find Dowon’s body. The camera angle only shows his unmoving legs, but there’s an ever-growing pool of blood surrounding him. We see Dabin’s face pale and Kiko covers her hand with her mouth from over his shoulder, clearly sobbing behind the build of the music.

The shock is short-lived as up the stairs a door suddenly slams closed. Dabin turns to Kiko, telling her to stay put as he investigates. She seems reluctant, shaking her head in refusal at first, but she stays behind as he begins ascending the stairs, blade still outstretched before him. Water is still flooding from the bathroom at the top of the stairs, tinged and flowing down the steps. He looks inside to see the same grizzly scene of Kaleina, paling impossibly more and sparing a glance at a fearful Kiko still posted at the bottom. Yet he moves on, still determined to find who’s responsible. 

He pauses outside the closed door at the end of the hall, hesitant. He reaches out, opening the door to find another masked figure standing just inside, donning a mask depicting a cracked doll face, just as the chorus starts up again. Before he can lash out at them, an ax comes down on his shoulder. We see Kiko scream, poised to come up the stairs to his aid, but he manages to kick the attacker back once they wrench the blade from him. He calls for Kiko to run, swinging the kitchen knife in front of him with his other hand and clutching his wound with the other as he attempts to escape. Kiko hesitates for a moment before taking off back through the house, towards the backyard again. She nearly trips on Dowon’s body before she rounds the corner, running through the living room. 

Kiko emerges into the backyard again, only lit by the kitchen windows and the fire still burning. We see her breath fog in the air as she turns around, unsure where to go next, what to do. The bridge of the song rises, the anticipation building in the shadows. We see Dabin rounding the corner of the foyer, limping, bloody, and knife-less, but alive. He’s halfway through the living room when we see the doll still pursuing, armed with the ax. He makes it to the kitchen doorway, nearly outside when they catch up to him, Kiko pointing behind him in a terrified warning. He turns just in time to catch the handle of the ax as it comes down on him, struggling with the masked attacker. He manages to push them back for a moment, but they kick in one of his legs, dropping him to his knees. Kiko can only watch in horror as the ax comes down once more, his body falling backward onto the grass. We don’t see his head, but the wooden ax handle juts into the air in front of the killer as the song’s sustained high note echoes. 

Kiko turns to run again and finds another masked figure standing in front of the fire, their golden sun mask lit eerily from the back. She’s frozen for a moment, unsure of her next move. She glances backward quickly, finding the doll wrenching the ax back out of Dabin’s corpse, and knows she has to act. She turns to run towards the side of her house, away from the two attackers entirely, but towards that picket fence. It almost seems slow motion as the sun-masked figure pursues after her, gaining quickly, just as she reaches the fence. She slows to try and scale it, but they catch up and drag her back down, throwing her to the ground despite her struggles. A long bronze blade shines in the dim light as it is thrust downwards, into her abdomen. She screams as it’s wrenched back out of her, the attacker lifting her over their shoulder in a fireman’s carry. It’s a slow trek across the darkened yard once more, the lighting reflecting oddly off their gold mask and Kiko’s writhing form. 

The gold glows even brighter as they stand over the fire pit, the previous masked figures beginning to gather there. It’s a strange scene that we just get a glimpse of in the shadows before Kiko’s body is being heaved over their shoulder again, into the firepit. Sparks swirl up into the night air as the camera angle zooms out, framing the house where the horrors will soon be discovered as the final words of the outro fade into darkness.

˖ ° 🪓 ⋆ ｡thank you so much to everyone who allowed me to kill their ocs in this hehe !! find kiko at @pickmedolls, dowon at @bluwavez, jeanne at @stcpidcupid, kaleina at @urmykrushhh, and dabin at @ofmanycol0rs !

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Very different church conversion was done on this 1876 church in Ulster Park, New York. 4bds, 4ba, $2M.

As soon as you enter, you can tell that it will be different. I've never seen a church decorated in navy and black with antique farm implements.

Stairs lead up to a blue foyer with a terrazzo floor and a fancy carved door molding.

The foyer leads into a combination living room/kitchen. The living room has a new fireplace and it's a small cozy area.

There's a kitchen island and the modern kitchen itself extends farther back.

There's also a side entrance into the kitchen via a small stoop.

From this level is are ladder/stairs made from 2 old beams. The railing is a simple rope.

This leads up to a large open area with such dark walls that I thought they were charred, but it's just dark.

The stone walls are the same that we saw on the exterior. There's a dining area with an elaborate chandelier.

There is also a sitting area, a chopping block and a large round indoor firepit with an exhaust hood.

Looking down on the area, you can see sliding doors to a deck.

The deck is a large size and has 2 storage areas for logs that are used for the firepit.

Back indoors, stairs go up to a lofted bedroom.

This is the only bedroom that is open.

Bathroom #1 is small and done in classic white subway tiles.

The 2nd bedroom is larger and is the primary.

This bath has stone walls and a cool slanted slate sink.

The smallest bedroom works well as a child's room or guest space.

The largest bath has a stone sink, modern toilet & bidet, plus a shower and a vintage claw foot tub.

The 4th bedroom is a nice size.

Here, they built a platform that is used as a home office, and above is a loft stacked with lots of wood for the firepit.

There's another level that looks like a flex-space and it also has an industrial sink.

Two steps up is another area. I really don't know what you'd do with all these various areas.

This is the tower that is in front of the building and there's more firewood stored up here.

Spiral stairs go up the the uppermost part of the tower.

And, this is the view.

There's a .50 acre of property.

[steppingstonesuniverseguide]

Also my friends idea for a fluffy one shot! (with their permission and full credit to them)

This became... a bit more than expected. I wanted to write a few of these prompts tonight, but apparently I was lying about some of them being short...

“I’ll need a bit more kindling before I can start the fire,” Phil said, looking up from the pile of firewood that had been gathered already. “Will you boys go get some?”

“Sure,” Will said, getting up from the lawn chair he’d been reclining in.

“What’s kindling?” Tubbo asked, oddly curiously for him. He’d seemed intrigued by the concept of making a fire since Wilbur had first mentioned their plans for a bonfire.

“It’s, like, little sticks and bark,” Wilbur informed him.

“Why does he need that?” Tubbo asked. “He has an entire stack of big pieces of wood.”

“Those are too big,” Wilbur explained. “The fire won’t be hot enough to catch entire logs on fire at the start. Kindling lets the fire grow and get hot enough to burn the bigger pieces.”

“Huh,” he said.

“Come on, let’s go find some.”

Wilbur led him into the woods and Tubbo went willingly, surprisingly, not even hesitating when Tommy didn’t follow them.

Phil glanced up at Tommy, not questioning why he stuck back. “Want to help me get everything else set up?” Phil asked.

“Sure,” Tommy agreed. “What should I do?”

“Let’s clean out the firepit and then start putting down the tinder.”

The firepit was well maintained, but a few inches worth of leaves had fallen into it since the last time they’d used it.

“Have you ever been to a bonfire?” Phil asked as they began digging out the leaves.

“That depends,” Tommy said. “What’s the difference between a bonfire and a regular fire?”

“They’re usually bigger,” Phil said, “and always outside. They’re sometimes made for celebrations or to get rid of burnable waste, sometimes both. We’re making a pretty small one though.”

“Hmm,” Tommy said. “Maybe then. We mostly used them to cook food though.”

“We’ll be cooking food too,” Phil told him. “We’ve got hotdogs and stuff for s’mores.”

“What are s’mores?” Tommy asked.

“It’s a type of dessert,” Phil informed him and grinned when Tommy immediately looked interested.

They’d cleaned the firepit and spread out tinder by the time Wilbur and Tubbo got back with armfuls of thin sticks. While Tubbo didn’t know anything about fires, Tommy clearly knew a lot about them. He helped Phil stack the kindling and firewood in a crosshatch pattern without instruction. The lighter, however, did throw him for a loop.

“That’s so much easier!” Tommy exclaimed in awe as Phil set a piece of newspaper on fire with a click of a button. “Can I try?”

“Sure,” Phil agreed, handing over the lighter. “You have to push that button forward before clicking that one.”

Tommy took it. It took him a couple of tries to get the grip right, but then the flame flickered to life. He lit another bit of the kindling and grinned.

“Phil,” Techno said, “did you really just gift the child fire?”

Phil rolled his eyes and Tommy turned to glare at Techno. “Be careful Blade,” he said, waving the lighter threateningly. “I now have the power to burn your sheets.”

“Which is why Phil shouldn’t have given it to you,” Techno said dryly. He moved to set the roasting sticks he’d just cleaned in the kitchen on the table they’d set up nearby.

“Please, do not burn anything that isn’t firewood,” Phil requested.

Tommy sighed heavily with a grin on his face. “Fine,” he agreed. He went back to lighting the fire in a few more places before relinquishing the lighter back into Phil’s care.

Phil and Techno went to grab the food from the kitchen while the fire grew.

The sun had started to set by the time the fire was ready to cook on and the air was chilly when they stepped away from the fire.

They ended up sitting in a circle around the fire. Tommy continuously had to push Tubbo’s arm so he was holding the hotdog over the coals instead of over the flames. Eventually, he just gave Tubbo his cooked hotdog, brushed the ash off of the one Tubbo had been trying to cook, and set about cooking the second hotdog himself.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Wilbur commented. (Despite how many times Wilbur had roasted hotdogs over fires, he always was too impatient and ended up with a partially burned, partially cold one. He always ate it anyway.)

“We used to cook dead rats over our fires,” Tommy said cheerfully. Disgust immediately pinched both Wilbur and Tubbo’s faces. Technoblade just snorted out an aborted laugh.

“Well, I bet hotdogs are easier to cook then those,” Phil replied neutrally.

“And less hairy!”

Phil watched Tubbo stare at the hotdog he’d just finished slathering with mustard. He glanced at Techno briefly before shoving the hotdog into his hands.

Techno looked like he was trying very hard not to start laughing in earnest.

Wilbur, meanwhile, shoved the rest of his hotdog into his mouth, but didn’t look particularly pleased about it. “Well, that’s my cue to start on the marshmallows.”

Usually, Phil would protest breaking out the dessert already, but he didn’t say anything this time.

“Marshmallows?” Tommy asked, “Like for hot chocolate?”

“Yep,” Wilbur said, pausing to ruffle Tommy’s hair on his way to grab the bag of marshmallows as well as the rest of the s’mores supplies. “This time, we’re roasting them though.”

Wilbur tossed the bag of marshmallows at Techno when he returned, almost making Techno drop one of his two hotdogs. Techno rolled his eyes, but did finish his first hotdog in two bites so he could rip open the bag. He put four marshmallows on his roasting stick: two for Wilbur and two for himself. Then, he passed the bag to Tubbo.

No one else was ready to roast marshmallows yet, so Tubbo ended up just clutching the bag for a few minutes. Tommy ate his now finished hotdog while carefully watching Techno roasting the four marshmallows and Wilbur setting up graham crackers and chocolate on a paper plate.

After observing the s’more making process and finishing his hot dog, Tommy grabbed the bag of marshmallows from Tubbo’s lap. He also put four marshmallows on his roasting stick and held it over the fire. For it only being his first time cooking marshmallows, Phil was impressed that he only set one of them on fire once. Wilbur told him to blow on it, and he responded quickly enough to save it.

Tubbo had the rest of the s’mores prepped by the time Tommy finished roasting the marshmallows. Tommy slid them onto the graham crackers, and they ended up only a little bit messier than Wilbur and Techno’s.

It was a little harder to tell with Tubbo, but both boys seemed happy with their snack.

Phil was the only one to cook himself two hotdogs before moving onto marshmallows, but after distracting themselves from the rat roasting conversation, both Wilbur and Tubbo ended up with another hotdog. (Tommy cooked Tubbo’s for him.)

The graham crackers and chocolate were used up almost comically quickly. It wasn’t much of a surprise. Just Techno and Wilbur alone could consume more s’mores than should be humanly possible. Tommy and Tubbo gave them a run for their money.

They still had half a bag of leftover marshmallows and Techno and Tommy slowly cooked them two at a time while the fire continued to burn. Wilbur got up every so often to add a log or two to the fire. The air was freezing by the time the entire bag was finished, but it was warm near the fire.

“Alright,” Wilbur said, after polishing off his last marshmallow. “One more tradition.”

Tubbo and Tommy looked at him in interest as he pulled a bundle of fabric out from under his chair. He dumped it unceremoniously into the fire.

“My least favorite outfit of the year,” Wilbur said in explanation.

“You’re burning clothes?” Tommy asked, confused.

“I didn’t like them.”

“Did you consider just returning them to the store?” Tubbo asked.

“It’s symbolic,” Wilbur said, waving him off. “Plus, they were itchy.”

“Can I burn things too?” Tommy asked, watching the clothing start to burn.

“What would you want to burn?” Wilbur asked.

Tommy shrugged.

Phil saw Wilbur’s eyes suddenly light up brighter than the flames. “I have an idea!” he said, almost knocking down his chair before bolting into the house.

It took him a good 20 minutes to get back. His symbolic bad outfit had already burned almost completely by then, and Techno had added another log. Phil wondered what had taken him that long to find until he caught sight of the fabric he was carrying.

Ah.

Wilbur’s smile was actually evil when he handed it over to Tommy.

Tommy, of course, instantly recognized it. You didn’t exactly forget the outfit you almost bled to death in.

“I didn’t realize you’d kept this,” he said.

They had. Phil had even (tried to) clean the blood off of it before he’d been aware Tommy and his super-suit were not going to be returned to the heroes. He’d forgotten about it since.

Wilbur just shrugged, that smile still on his face. The flickering light from the fire made him look a bit deranged. Techno had sat forward in his chair to watch.

Tommy only hesitated for a few moments before tossing his old super-suit on the fire. Phil felt himself grin.

The suit was designed to be sturdy, so they needed to put another log on top of it to get it to fully burn, but it did burn in the end.

“I think I understand Wilbur’s clothes burning thing,” Tommy said decisively once the outfit was nothing but ash.

“It cathartic,” Wilbur said. His smile was a bit softer at this point, but there was still a hint of derangement to it.

Tommy turned to Tubbo. “Do you want to burn anything?” he asked.

Tubbo shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “My hero suit got destroyed before I came here.”

They didn’t add any more logs to the fire after, letting it burn down until it was too cold to stay outside. They doused the fire before going back inside for the night.

What Tubbo sees when they bring that super-suit out over the fire:

(He is... honestly... kinda correct)

(I just realized that kinda goes against the last point of the prompt... but then again maybe not. Maybe that does make Tubbo actually feel safe with them.)

[archester-creations]

Rated: G

Pairing: Chase/Chief Burns

Word Count: ~1k

A/N: Day three of @heartsandsparksshipweek vacation; established relationship, bots are able to eat

"Are you sure you don't need me?" Chase asked as Heatwave quite literally pushed him out the door. It was the only way to get him to actually go on his vacation with Chief.

"Yes, now get moving," Heatwave said.

"But what if-"

"Chase, we'll be fine without you two for a few days," Heatwave said and gave him another shove out the exit. Chase barely stumbled.

"Yeah! Go have fun, ride the waves," Blades said. "Cowabunga."

"Cowabunga?" Chase asked.

"They've been watching surfer movies lately," Heatwave said.

"I see. I shall… give it a try," Chase said.

"That's all we ask," Heatwave said. Though maybe not about the surfing thing. Human boards couldn't exactly hold bots. And he couldn't really see Chase as a surfer.

Around this time, Chief thankfully came down with the rest of the Burns clan. "Are you ready to head out, partner?"

"Yes he is," Blades answered before Chase could. Chief smiled.

“You can trust our family, Chase,” Chief said.

“I do. I’ve just… never really had a vacation,” Chase said.

Chief’s smile widened just slightly. “Then I think it’s about time for one.”

Thankfully, the chief made it easier to get Chase out of the base and actually on the anniversary vacation they’d planned months ago. Even if all of them had to reassure both of them that they’d be fine multiple times. All of them breathed a sigh of relief once Chase was out of view.

“First thing’s first.” Chief pulled out the tent and its poles. Chase watched as he set it up, roping both long poles through the canvas of the tent before he stuck its four edges to the ground with the help of a spike and small hammer. The finished tent looked like a folded book. It was also larger than Chase expected from the size of its bag. Large enough both of them might be able to fit comfortably under it. Or, at least, that's the plan. They will have to see tonight. The next thing Chief pulled from the small pile of things they'd brought with them was a human-sized sack Chief had explained was a 'sleeping bag' when they packed. He put it in the tent along with a much larger blanket.

"Next we'll make the firepit," Chief said as he grabbed some stones that seemed rather large in his hands. "Would you mind grabbing some wood, partner?"

"No problem," Chase said. He walked into the woods to gather logs. It reminded him of when the rescue bots got stuck on an island with Cody after that bad storm. Though this was much less worrying. Amazing how peaceful a vacation could feel when you weren't trapped in it. Once he felt his armload of wood was suitable, Chase returned to camp. Chief smiled up at him from his seat on the cooler, next to a section of cleared earth surrounded by rocks. Chase placed the logs in a neat stack near the tent.

"So now what?"

"Now we fish," Chief said.

"Ah, right. You do seem to find quite a lot of joy in that activity," Chase said. Chief chuckled.

"I do. Moreso when I get to do it with someone I love." Chase's spark spun with those words, though he certainly already knew the chief loved him. They were partners in at least two meanings of the word.

"Then let's fish," Chase said.

Fishing was one of those human things Chase still didn't completely understand. Like eating, though he could appreciate macaroni and cheese. And like eating, though he didn't fully understand it, he did like the bonding aspect of fishing. It was slow even in the river near the place they'd set up camp. (It seemed Cody learned from his dad as well as from the lad pioneer handbook.) But Chase didn't mind that. It just provided more time to sit by the river with his conjunx, listening to the movement of the water and the way the wind moves the tree's leaves and watching their bobbers go up and down with the stream. The fished in companionable silence for several earth hours according to Chase’s internal clock. Most of the fish they caught were thrown back, with the exception of one large fish Chase managed to catch. Chief claimed it as perfect for tonight’s supper.

"It is getting dark," Chase said. "Perhaps we should light the fire?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Chief said.

Chase helped Chief light the fire, then watched as Chief prepared the fish. It was almost disconcerting to watch.

“Is your food always stripped and gutted?” Chase said with something like a shiver. It was a good thing Blades wasn’t here. The younger bot liked earth food and Chase didn’t think they would like to know where it came from.

“The meat is,” Chief said. “For things like vegetables and watermelons the process is different, but I guess you could say that.”

Later in the night, as they were eating smores– gooey, incredibly messy, but quite tasty treats of graham cracker, roasted marshmallow, and chocolate– Chase leaned forward. It wasn’t hard to tell that Chief would be going to bed soon. “I have learned from Cody it’s customary to end the night with a ‘scary story’ when camping.”

“It can be.” Chief smiled. "Do you have one?"

"I have prepared one." Chase cleared his intake, and started. “On a night when the air was like pea soup, thick and clouded, a detective stepped out of his office. Immediately he caught sight of a car driving without its headlights. When he pulled the perpetrator over, he discovered the drive had massive unpaid parking fines as well. But because this is a horror story, the car disappears the second the detective turns to write a new ticket and is never seen again.”

“That’s a good one, Chase,” Chief said. He yawned wide and stood up to stretch, his knees and elbows popping as he did.

“Thank you. Is it time to retire?” Chase asked.

“I think so,” Chief said. “Wish I could stay up longer.”

“We have plenty of time tomorrow,” Chase said.

“That we do.” Chief chuckled.

At the tent, Chief directed Chase to lie down before he took his spot on Chase’s chassis, pulling the blanket with him. Chase carefully dropped a servo over Chief’s back. This wasn’t something they could easily and comfortably do at home. Chase was glad they could do it now. His spark spun happily, like a mobile. Chief sighed, seemingly melting into his spot. The beat of his heart was steady against Chase’s metal, even through the blanket that made him a more comfortable place to sleep.

"So how'd you like our first day and night of camping together?" Chief asked.

"It was peaceful. Nice," Chase said.

"Are you ready for the rest of the week?"

"I think so."

Chief smiled, and Chase smiled back.

[odditycircus-2002]

Huddle Up

Y'all remember my post about the Black Sun Job where Diyana and Hellboy were stranded in an arctic wasteland for a little over 6 weeks after Hellboy blew up a Nazi's base? Well, this drabble is what came to mind for a bit of what happened between them during those weeks on the ice.

Hellboy huffs to himself in frustrations as he dug at the snow and sleet hoping to find something from the remains of the hangar to use as fuel for the fire, he and his fellow agent only have so much daylight left after all.

"Just more useless crap."

The large red man grumbles, tossing aside scrap metal in a small pile of similar debris. He then looks up to find his fellow agent, Diyana Swann, a little off in the distance; a black setter dog is currently digging deep into the snow. Hellboy watches as Swann briefly disappears into the hole she dug before reappearing, completely covered in snow contrasting brightly against her dark fur but otherwise without any tinder. The dog that is Swann frowns before speaking.

"I have nothin' here either."

Swann lets out a huff before shaking her entire body, briefly appearing as a dark blur that then shifts into a more humanoid form that Hellboy is more familiar with. Despite having the general shape of a human of African descent with black wavy hair, it's not hard to miss the dark rabbit ears sprouting from the sides of her head or the long tail extending from her spine that ends with a tuft of blue-gray fur. Upon closer inspection past the winter boots she's currently wearing, anyone could see that Swann's legs don't exactly resemble a human's either. Sure, they seem normal above the knees, but going down from there, they're more digitigrade in appearance, like that of a four-legged animal.

"You just had to blow up the entire hangar, eh? Deadly job ye did there leaving any kindlin'."

"I'll keep that in mind next time Nazis try to use me as their guinea pig."

Hellboy sarcastically quips back. Swann sighs as she places her hands on her hips before returning to where their impromptu firepit is, which is basically a small hole in the ground with a pitiful amount of wood in the middle, they dug out earlier. Hellboy is not too far behind as he joins his coworker, sitting opposite her.

"I gotta ask though, where were you during that? You seemed to have vanished into thin air when the grunts started pulling out the ray guns."

Hellboy narrows his golden eyes in suspicion at the pooka across from him. Swann waves a gloved hand dismissively with a nonchalant grin.

"I knew you had it covered, 'sides you're able to take those shots than I could anyway."

"Doesn't mean they didn't hurt like a S.O.B."

Hellboy subconsciously runs a hand over the burgundy-colored bruise on his right shoulder where the ray guns first hit him. Diyana grits her teeth as she lets out a hiss at the various bruises and injuries that decorated his hulking form.

"I can imagine, yer gonna be so sore in mornin'. But hey, at least I got ya out just in time before ya could blow up with the rest of those morans."

"That reminds me, you haven't exactly answered my question. What were you doing while I was having my ear talked off by wannabe Hitler?"

Swann maintains the same unbothered expression in contrast to her colleague's persistent gaze. She's the first to break their eye contact as she gives a shrug and a hum.

"Eh, no use keepin' it hidden, 'sides we'll need the kindling."

Swann then reaches into her stylish coat to pull out a small stack of papers. They crinkle in her hand as she shifts through them with an analytical eye; some she throws in the fire pit, and others she tucks back into her coat. Hellboy isn't sure he would like the faerie woman's answer when spotting a familiar symbol on the corner of one of the documents and recognizing the writing to be in German. He isn't going to stop Swann from using her lighter to set the papers ablaze, though. The faerie snaps her lighter close when the kindling does its work for the few wood pieces they can find.

"I don't need to be a psychic to know yer askin' why I have Nazi papers."

"Yeah."

Hellboy confirms, observing as Swann warms her gloved hands over the small fire. She then moves her hands to grab a pack of cigarettes and her cigarette holder from her coat pocket to use the small fire to light one. Hellboy watches Swann take an inhale before exhaling a smoky yellow hand grabbing at the air.

"I'm simply fulfilling the research aspect of your organization as upon my agreement with the Professor and the board members. While you're their smash, I am more of the grab."

The smokey apparition then disperses before Swann takes another inhale to exhale a blue and yellow stream of smoke that resembles the planet, Earth, along with a few of the aircraft that dragged them to their current location.

"If it's any comfort, there wasn't really a lot of juicy intel as much as much as thick crackpot plans for world domination."

Hellboy follows where Swann is gesturing to the ashy remains of the documents she burned, his lips are pressed together in a thin line as he stares intently at the fire. On one hand, he knows that it's always these Nazis' plans to take over the world, essentially. On the other, he's not a fool to accept what Swann told him to be the whole truth. She's come through in a pinch within the hangar and now with the fire, though.

After a few moments of silence, Hellboy looks from the fire to his fellow agent, her cigarette half its original size.

"Did you at least gather any idea on how to get out of this winter wonderland?"

Swann shakes her head to which Hellboy gives a tired sigh.

"You blew everythin' up, handsome. Any vehicles ain't nothin' but scrap now."

"Well, why not teleport us out like you did with me?"

"I'd have to know what continent we're on first to figure out where to go. Though, all I see is ice and snow to the horizon."

Swann then makes a sweeping gesture to the frozen land around them. A icy breeze then blows by which cause the agents' small fire to dance rapidly in the wind, looking almost ready to go out. Both Hellboy and Swann desperately start to shield the flame with their body, the large man begging under his breath for the flame not to die. Once it stabilizes again do both agents back away a bit from the fire.

"Any word on the radio?"

Swann inquires, once she's able to stop her teeth from chattering too much. Hellboy shakes his head before pulling out the blocky radio that was one half of a two-way radio, one of the only things they could find amongst the wreckage.

"Nothing, just static."

"Here, let me."

Swann holds out a hand to which Hellboy obliges. He watches as Swann takes out some small screwdrivers and a plier then starts to disassemble the radio.

"Can ya find a small thin and malleable piece of metal?"

She asks him while wiping the batteries with her coat. Hellboy, again, acquiesces to the phooka's request, finding and breaking off some scorched metal the size of a fist into rough strips the width of his pinky. If there's one thing Hellboy can trust Swann with, it's her way around machines. He watches his fellow agent use one of the metal strips to attach to the radio's antenna, using a rubber band and bobby pin she found in her pocket. Swann appears to pay special attention to a small scorched cube in the radio, then fiddles with the wires within it before returning it to the radio.

"Alright, the batteries seem to be in working order, with no sign of damage or corrosion. Added some length to the antenna to hopefully boost the signal 'fore takin' a gander at the repeater. It seems to suffer a bit of damage from the blast, but everythin' else looks good. Just wish I had my carpet bag on me."

"Only one way to find out."

Hellboy then takes the radio from Swann and switches it on.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Agent Hellboy and Agent Swann of the BPRD requesting rescue and pick up. We're stranded on what looks to be a tundra. There's snow and ice everywhere. Last known location, is Fletcher's Ice Island T-3 in the Arctic Ocean. Hurry, we don't have a lot of fuel for a fire."

Hellboy then releases his hand from the receiver before glancing back at Swann.

"Fingers crossed that your upgrades worked and somebody heard it, otherwise they're gonna find some strange snowmen by then."

Hellboy gives a dry chuckle while Di nods in agreement with her arms wrapped around her in a death grip.

A Few Days Later

As Hellboy feared, their fire situation worsened to the point that both he and Swann had to dig through their pockets for any flammable miscellaneous items. This includes Swann's carton she held her cigarettes in, her hat minus the hat pins on them, old receipts and memos, and even some of their hair or fur in Swann's case. The latter made their small camp stink as hell to the point it became hard for either of them to choose between getting away from the stench or getting closer to their only source of warmth. Well, perhaps the fire isn't their only warm source.

Hellboy looks up from their only line to the outside world to the woman across from him. On Swann's lap is loose wiring, screw, and more metal scrap as she works on disassembling and picking apart the repeater from the radio. Swann hopes that by making repairs to the repeater or even making a new one, could boost the signal of their radio. However, the faerie woman's progress is slow as is evident by her trembling hands causing her to drop a screw or cause her to start over what little progress she made. The sound of Swann's teeth chattering together is the only other sound to fill the silence between them besides the weak crackling of their fire and howling freezing winds. Hellboy couldn't stand it for much longer.

"C'mere."

The large man beckons Swann toward him with his giant stone hand. Swann tears her gaze away from her work her long ears tilted at an angle to express her confusion.

"W-w-what?"

"I'm not gonna repeat myself."

Hellboy then stands up to shuffle over Swann's side of the fire, securing the radio in his belt before sitting down behind the faerie woman and scooping her up into his lap, bridal style. He then wraps his muscular arms around Swann's shivering form, flinching slightly when brushing against her ice-cold cheeks. Said woman lets out a small squeak at the contact but instinctively clings to the larger red man once fully processing how he's pretty much a living furnace.

"Christ on a stick!"

Swann happily mutters to herself. She wraps her arms around Hellboy's barrel chest as best as she can.

"You're welcome."

Hellboy could've sworn he felt a rumbling sensation coming from her. It seems that Hellboy huddling close to his fellow agent did the trick, as after Swann took a few minutes to warm herself up by greedily taking in his body heat, she is able to complete making a new repeater. She then installs into the radio before handing it to Hellboy, who gives more or less the same message as last time. After taking his hand off the receiver. Sensing he's being watched, he looks down at Swann gazing up at him with hooded eyes and a sultry grin.

"I always knew you were hot, Handsome."

"Don't start. You're lucky I feel like being nice."

Swann gives a shrug before crooning,

"I'll still take what I can."

Hellboy lets out a groan but doesn't object when Swann intertwines her tail around his nor does she say anything when he rests his chin on top of her head right between her small horns. Although, Hellboy does note that Swann is soft and warm to have in his arms. For a while, they both sat in silence to simply bask in what little heat their fire gave and the warmth exchanged from their combined body heats. The silence is eventually broken by Hellboy, who doesn't bother moving from the top of Swann's head.

"You're lucky to have small horns. Must make everyday life easy for ya."

"Aye, how else do you think I'm able to put on my hats or lay my head down on a pillow without tearin' it to pieces?"

Hellboy lets out a huff in amusement, his warm breath brushes against the fae woman's long ears, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine and causing her to tighten her tail around the large red man's. The latter thinks nothing of it, chalking it up to the bitter cold. He raises a brow when hearing a sudden crunchy pop similar to whenever he cracks his neck or spine while stretching. Then, out of the corner of his eyes, he can spot Swann's horns lengthening like trees growing 100 times faster. He moves his head from the top of Swann's head in time to catch her horns twisting and curling before settling to resemble a ram's. Swann twists in Hellboy's lap with an amused smile.

"What did I tell ya? Sure, they're grand an' everythin', but I'd prefer a bit less of a hassle. Ya like?"

She runs a hand down one of her horns as if brushing back a strand of hair while maintaining heavy eye contact with Hellboy. The latter gives a barely perceptible shrug.

"Horns aren't really my thing, but they're fitting on you."

Swann then places her hands over her cheeks before using one to fan herself in an overexaggerated fashion.

"Ah shucks, you make me blush, Handsome!

The fae woman then raises her hands to run them over her horns as if sweeping back her hair, causing them to shorten and shrink under her touch until they're back to their usual convenient size.

"Speaking of horns, where's yours exactly, Big Guy?"

Swann gestures with one hand to the smooth stumps on Hellboy's forehead. He glances up at them before lifting his normal left hand to feel the mostly smooth stumps.

"Don't got'em 'cause I didn't want them. I used to be insecure about them as a kid, but nowadays I file them down for about the same reasons as you."

Hellboy gives a shrug in response. Swann gives hum as she contemplates what her fellow agent just told her.

"I suppose that's best for ya,"

The faerie woman then starts giggling to herself, causing the giant red man to raise a brow in confusion.

"What's so funny, now?"

"I was just thinkin' of ya tryna put on a shirt only for two absolutely massive horns-"

Swann holds her hands about a foot from her forehead.

" -to rip a hole through them, leaving ya stuck mid-dressing."

Swann then bursts out into full laughter.

"Or-or-or ya tryna to go through one of the doors at HQ, but ya can't cause the horns are too wide to let ya through! So you're just left havin' to figure your way in, only to get stuck in the doorway!"

A wry grin makes its way on Hellboy's face before he's too left chuckling at the ridiculous imagery.

"Kinda reminds me of when Mac tried to bring in a whole tree branch inside, but he didn't figure that the branch was too wide until after he ran full force at the door frame."

A moment of silence passes between them before both burst out into laughter to the point Swann has to grab onto Hellboy's broad shoulder to keep from collapsing, which is harder than it sounds considering how his shoulders kept shaking from the force of his laughter. Hellboy raises his left arm to wipe at his eyes for any tears that leaked out, which gives Swann a good look at a faded bitemark. A bitemark that's a lighter shade of red than the rest of Hellboy and appears to be the result of a large creature by the looks of it.

"How'd ya get that scar? Looks like it got ya good."

Hellboy glances over at the bitemark on his forearm and flexes his left hand.

"Yeah, but I'd say the mutated mutt got it worse in the end. I can at least say I'm alive."

"Mutated mutt? Do ya mean what happened last year in Rosemead, California?"

Hellboy nods.

"Yup. Guessin', you read the papers about it?"

"Aye, kinda hard not to when your face and name were everywhere.

"I can't help it I got a mug that cameras just love."

The giant red man gives an amused grin at his joke. Swann reciprocates his expression with one of her own and lightly elbows him in the ribs.

"Don't get a big head about it, yours is already large as it is."

"Guilty as charged."

Hellboy shrugs without an ounce of guilt.

"I'd wager though you got your share of scars."

"More than you can believe."

Swann glances down at one of her arms before adjusting the gloves to smooth out a small wrinkle, her grin falling ever so slightly. Hellboy could sense the change in demeanor from the smaller woman, making him furrow his brow.

"What kind of scars are you talkin' about?"

He asks quieter and gentler than his voice was just a minute ago. Swann remains silent, making no indication that she even heard Hellboy. The latter chooses not to push the fae woman, but that doesn't stop him from noting how unusual this sort of heavy silence is for her compared to her normal chatter.

Eventually, the silence is broken when Swann opts to shrug off her coat, revealing the white blouse with long frilled sleeves underneath. She then turns around and stands between Hellboy's legs to drape the blue coat over his broad shoulders. The large red man raises a brow but doesn't stop the smaller woman from smoothing the way-too-small jacket over him.

"You sure you wanna be giving this to me? I don't believe it's my style and I don't really need it."

The corner of the fae woman's mouth twitches.

"It's the best I can do given yer own was cut into ribbons, plus I can't have my personal heater turning into an ice cube."

"Touching."

Crinkle

Both Hellboy and his fellow agent turn their heads, Swann's ears standing at attention, in the direction of a familiar sound of plastic clinking followed by a light thump, followed shortly by a loud clink. Looking over to Hellboy's left side, they find a small packet of airplane biscuits and two mini bottles labeled "bourbon". Both agents look at the unexpected sustenance and then at each other again with wide eyes. Swann then gives a shrug to the large man's silent question.

"Even I sometimes forget what I keep on me."

Some More Days Later

After some thorough searching and Hellboy shaking the coat turns out Swann had half of another airplane biscuit pack in her and Hellboy has a mint broken down into dust in one of his pockets. While it isn't much in normal circumstances, to both BPRD agents, they may as well have found a feast. They both nibble their share of a cinnamon and sugar biscuit, both sharing half of one of the scarce biscuits while engaged in conversation with Swann still sitting in Hellboy's lap.

"....Why Romania? I figured you'd wanna go somewhere warmer like Mexico, Africa, the Sahara desert, the Bahamas, or Florida after this."

"You'd be wrong, Red. For one thing, I still have fur, so what may be mild to ya, is fiercely the opposite. 'Sides, I know a couple of great restaurants there, including one that makes some of the bleedin' best paprika chicken ya ever tasted."

The fae woman then takes another small bite from her quarter of the airplane biscuit, closing her eyes to briefly imagine the paprika chicken she mentioned; she can almost taste the delicious dish on her tongue, not the stale sugar cinnamon of the biscuit. Hellboy opts to wash down his biscuit with a small sip of bourbon, which is barely an ember warming his chest.

"You'll have to take me to one of those restaurants sometime then."

Swann gives a coquettish grin as she playfully bats her eyes.

"Are ya askin' me out on a date, Red?"

Hellboy's brows shoot to his forehead.

"Uhhh, no? Not really."

The large red man reaches his left hand behind his neck, suddenly feeling warmer than he did a minute ago. Swann's grin softens into a small smile as she turns her head to look up at him.

"Date or not, I'd be happy to show ya."

Hellboy gives a soft grin of his own.

"Sounds like a plan. Though, honestly,"

Hellboy leans back against the wall of the pit they dug, craning his neck to stare up at the bright full moon in the sky.

"I'd like to spend some time home. I know the Professor, Margret, and Archie must be scouring the Earth right now to find where we're at. It'd be nice to see them all again, and I'm sure Mac is missing me as much as I miss him. What I wouldn't give right now to be back in my warm bed with him. "

The large red man glances back at the fae woman in his hold, certain he would find her batting her lashes at him before making an innuendo; however, this is not what he finds. Hellboy finds Swann looking over at the fire with a stolid expression on her face as if in deep concentration.

"Swann?"

At the sound of her last name, the fae woman turns to look at Hellboy with a smile that doesn't quite reach her forlorn eyes.

"Ya lucky to have so many folks waitin' for ya at home. At least, I got Romania and all of Europa to head to."

Swann then gives a bitter chuckle. Hellboy doesn't say anything, pressing his lips in a thin line, silently hoping for his fellow agent to elaborate. His patience pays off when Swann gives one final detail.

"It's the closest I'll ever get to going home."

"Why? Are you saying that you can't? Actually, why do you stick around HQ and not Ireland?"

The faerie woman doesn't say anything in response, leaving them both in heavy silence once more.

...

Even More Days Later

Swann didn't speak much after mentioning home, barely uttering a few words. Even then, only when necessary, such as asking Hellboy to hold a few components of the radio as she got to work trying to strengthen the signal again. He watches as she screws and unscrews each piece in repetition with no real progress other than, perhaps, a way to keep her hands busy. While Swann is occupied with the hand radio, Hellboy looks over their remaining food, which, while not a lot to begin with, is nothing more than crumbs. The large man gives a sigh as he looks at the sad crumbs and dust in his normal hand.

"Any luck with the radio, Swann? Cause food's here is just crumbs you'd feed a mouse."

"s-s-sickner for-r-r yaaa."

The Fae woman slurs thickly in reply, stuttering at the same time from what Hellboy figures to be from the cold. He quickly takes the coat draped on his shoulders to cover his partner, even rubbing her shoulders a bit to generate extra heat. Hellboy then presses the back of his hand against Swann's cheek, finding that he may as well be touching the snow around them. He throws a quick glance at the small fire that may as well belong to a candle. Hellboy clenches his jaw tightly as he then looks back at Swann, finding her hands to be moving at a snail's pace and her head bobbing, causing her wavy locks to fall forward.

Before she could fall forward as well, Hellboy uses his giant right hand to catch the fae woman and tilt her back and used the other to place the radio down. He attempts to will away the way his heart started clawing its way up his throat by talking to his fellow agent and putting her coat back on her.

"Hey, Swann? Why don't you take a break from workin' on the radio for a bit? We're gonna need more fuel."

"A-ayeee... an féidir leat an fhuinneog a dhúnadh, le do thoil?"

"I have no idea what ya just said, but I'm gonna need ya to stay awake. Just don't close your eyes, yeah?"

Swann only lets out an acknowledging hum which Hellboy figured is good enough. He then snaps his fingers in front of the woman's cat-like eyes, briefly getting her to keep open without struggle for a few seconds before she's back to struggling with their weight. Hellboy ends up cradling Swann's shivering form, so small compared to him, close to his chest. Hellboy shuffles around, trying to find any flammable debris that both of them may have missed. Occasionally he would jostle her in his arms when she seemed too still, sometimes engaging in nonsensical conversation with her, anything to keep the fae woman from falling asleep and dying.

"I missh the soft ground a-and the grass 'tween toes."

"Uh-huh, and what else?"

"mo dheartháireacha agus deirfiúracha amaideach,"

Di gives a small drunken laugh as she gives a thousand-yard stare without actually seeing anything.

"plainsss, fielllds, winds... Jesusss I misss the aaaale...."

"We can get some ale later, but we can't if you go to sleep."

"Mmmmhhhh... souuuunds goood."

"I hope you mean the ale."

Hellboy moves aside a piece of metal that's roughly his size with one arm, finding something charred in the snow. He crouches down next to the partially buried item and uses his free hand to start digging at the snow around it. His face brightens when he unearthed a mostly charred piece of wood that could've been part of a door.

"Ah ha! A bit burnt but it's still wood."

Swann can only give a breathy giggle.

"bleedin' kelpies... gotta hog waterrr..."

"Right."

The large red man sits in front of the fire, its flames larger than a minute ago, thanks to the charred wood he found. Once he's taken care of the fire, Hellboy turns his attention back to the smaller woman in his arms, the knot in his stomach somewhat lessening when finding her no longer shivering as badly. To be safe, though, he takes one of Swann's arms tightly wrapped around herself to check her pulse.

"Mmmhhh... weak, but at least it's still there."

"A-are we in the w-wetlandsss?"

Swann mumbles out as she starts to kick her feet against the snow with barely enough force to flick a snowflake away. Hellboy is quick to hoist the faerie woman up more into his hold.

"No, we're in the ice lands."

"Ohhh booo..."

"Yeah, I know."

For the rest of the day, Hellboy continues to make nonsensical small talk with the barely conscious fae woman, which admittedly. During one conversation, he stopped to give Swann a few crumbs and the few drops of bourbon left in his small bottle.

"Cén fáth a bhfuil an fuisce imithe i gcónaí?"

Swann slurrs as she tiredly squints at the tiny bottle in Hellboy's hand.

"Sure is, Swann."

The fae woman then goes silent for a moment longer than he would've liked. However, before Hellboy could open his mouth to say anything, Swann speaks again at a volume her fellow agent had to lean down to hear.

"W-why can't I gooo home?"

"What's stopping you?"

"Them..."

"Who's them?"

The demon-like man couldn't make out the rest of what his fellow agent said, but they were swears and curses, given how she practically growled them out. Feeling it'd be better to get straight answers when Swann is more lucid, Hellboy changes the subject.

"You wanna hear about the time I crashed a vehicle when I was a kid?"

"A-aye...hehe..."

"Figured you would. To start, I love reading Lobster Johnson comics and I had something of an overactive imagination..."

Hellboy spends the rest of the night recalling his childhood and the places his job has taken him around the globe, having found that telling anecdotes from his life stories helped keep Swann awake. For the most part, he still had to shake her around to keep from dozing off. Sometimes, Swann would interject with some murmured commentary, which is how Hellboy learns that she's apparently banned from places in Sweden. Something about framing a giant talking squirrel for crimes she committed, but the large red man decided that's a question for another time.

...

He must've dozed off at some point since Hellboy opens his eyes to blink blearily at the rising sun. He then looks to the fire pit, where only ashes, embers, and smoke remains. Hellboy gives a heavy sigh to himself at the idea of scrounging up more fuel for the fire.

"Hey Swann, we're gonna-"

The large man is jolted fully awake as everything comes rushing back to him. He looks down to find the fae woman curled up in a fetal position on his lap with her back with a light cover of frost that gave an almost glazed look to Swann. He feels his stomach lurch as he raises a hand to her neck to try and search for any sign of a pulse, finding her skin to be cold as the landscape around them. Hellboy then feels it sink when he finds nothing.

"No,no,no, no come on."

Hellboy mutters to himself as he picks the smaller woman to squeeze against his body, which likely may not have been as effective as he would like given he's been shirtless in the cold the entire time, with frost forming on him. Yet, none of this bothered Hellboy, who starts rushing around the area with Swann still in his arms, desperately searching for anything he can burn while ignoring the hunger pangs from days of little food. While he didn't find any wood, he did find miscellaneous melted rubber parts from a variety of destroyed machines and items. Hellboy didn't care that it smelled worse than when either he or Swann would use a bit of their hair for kindling, as long as it made a fire which it did.

Sitting as close as he can, Hellboy sits by the fire again to get to work to warm up his fellow agent. After putting his hand directly in the fire for a few seconds, he rubs at her shoulders, arms, and neck to help give and generate heat. When this didn't make the faerie stir, Hellboy wracked his brain for anything else he could do to warm Swann up. He faintly remembers something about skin-to-skin contact being used in cases of hypothermia during the briefing before embarking on this job. Hellboy groans to himself at what he knows he has to do, but his resolve is steeled when looking down at the frozen fae woman in his arms.

Hellboy then starts unbuttoning Swann's jacket, enough so his left hand can slip down to her sternum, just above her breasts. He then starts rubbing counter-clockwise with the intention to generate heat to keep his partner's heart pumping. While not meaning to, as Hellboy was focusing on not overstepping his boundaries with the unconscious fae woman, he gets a glimpse of several stitched-up scars in the shape of claws peeking out from both sides of Swann's ribs. The large red man quickly looks away out of respect and embarrassment. He keeps averting his gaze from Swann as he holds her bare chest against his own bare chest with his beefy arms wrapped oh-so-carefully around her smaller form.

"I just know if you were awake, you wouldn't let me live any of this down. Right now, though, I wouldn't mind since it'll mean you're not dead."

Hellboy murmurs to the still-unconscious faerie.

The large red man sat there for what could've been hours, although there wasn't really any telling given how the sun seemed to barely have moved across the sky. Still, the fae woman didn't stir or give any indicators that she was still alive, not even a twitch. Hellboy knows he purposefully put off checking on the state of his only companion in the wintery landscape; which is why by the time the sun started to lower behind the horizon, he finally decided to grab one piece of metal from within Swann's pockets. Hellboy specifically rummaged for the most reflective piece before taking it out of his fellow agent's pocket and placing it under her nose. After a few moments that had Hellboy holding his breath, he takes the metal piece from under Swann's nose, finding nothing has changed for the metal not even the barest hint of steam.

"Swann? Swann? SWANN!"

Hellboy drops the metal piece to start shaking the unconscious, no, dead woman in his arms.

"Come on Swann! You know it's not the time to be foolin' around, Diyana! Diyana! Diyana please!"

After a few more minutes of futilely trying to wake Diyana up, the reality of the situation finally sinks in for Hellboy.

Diyana Swann is dead.

...

Hellboy may not have exactly gotten along well with the phooka, but he decided the best way to honor Diyana was to give her a proper burial. Well, as proper as he can with a six-foot deep grave, buttoning her back up in her coat, and placing a makeshift cross made of scrap metal. Hellboy has never really been to a funeral before so he doesn't know what exactly he's supposed to do. He spent a good part of his day just sitting at the foot of Diyana's grave, just twiddling his thumbs as he tries to come up with something to say, some nice last words, but nothing came.

Hellboy felt frustration bubbling hot in his chest and mixing in the heavy stone that settled in the pit of his gut. He wishes he could've done more to keep his partner alive, to not have let her down so badly. While he wishes he could've learned more about her, being stranded with Diyana gave him a glimpse behind the flirty and lofty persona of someone much more vulnerable, human even. Hellboy concludes that now, any secrets she hid, died with her, meaning he may never really know Diyana.

Hellboy curls up on himself with the two-way radio clutched in hand, the fire having gone out hours ago. He spends the next few days like this, slipping in and out of consciousness, only moving to eat some of the snow around him. Hellboy ends up staying in his curled position for so long that frost and icicles start forming all over him.

...

crunch

Hellboy slightly raises his head at the sound. What was that noise?

crunch

There it is again. The large red man turns his head in the direction of Diyana's grave in an attempt to pinpoint the noise. Could it have been some fallen snow? No, Hellboy reasons to himself. It's just hills and hills of snow all around him. Besides, he hasn't even moved from his spot to disturb any of the debris around him for days.

crunch crunch crunch

Okay, definitely not falling snow. In fact, if Hellboy's hunch is right, that noise is coming from-

Crunch Crunch CRUNCH

A muddied gloved hand pops from out of Diyana's grave, followed by another hand, then a muddied and snow-covered Diyana gasping for breath. Hellboy scrambles for the gun he swiped from the fae woman to aim it at the latter as she starts dragging her upper half out of her grave. He could only stare slack-jawed as his formerly, dead partner starts to sink a bit back into the loose snow before she starts to claw at the snow to get a good grip on the ground. Diyana's grunts and heavy panting helped snap Hellboy out of his stupor, making him rush to the faerie's grave to offer her his giant stone hand. She takes it, and Hellboy heaves against the snow and mud's suction around her waist to yank her out of the grave onto more stable ground.

Diyana crawls a few feet from the grave before collapsing on her back, taking huge gulps of air she's been deprived of. Hellboy stares down at her with his hooved feet on either side of her head, disbelief in his features. His, now-alive, partner lets out a few coughs before speaking in a scratchy voice.

"Why the fuckin' hell did you bury me alive?"

A long pause sits between them to the point Diyana thinks that the large man didn't hear her. She opens her mouth to repeat her question, but Hellboy finally answers her inquiry, gesticulating with his hands to hammer his words in.

"Why? Why? I thought you were dead!"

"Well, it's fierce obvious that I ain't."

Diyana then rights herself in a sitting position to stretch her stiff arms and crack her neck. She then starts to dust off the mud and snow on her.

"I-I checked for a pulse, and if you were breathing, you didn't have one, and you stopped breathing!"

"Technically, yes, I was dead for a few hours or so, but no, I wasn't really. Help me up, please?"

Diyana raises her arms up toward Hellboy, who obliges and reaches down to help the fae woman to her feet. It's clear that the long period of inactivity in the cold has affected Diyana's leg muscles, given how when she tried to take a step of her own, her legs wobbled before collapsing under her. The whole sight reminded her partner of a newborn deer taking its first steps. Hellboy helps her up again, but keeps an arm extended like an old-fashioned gentleman for Diyana to hang on to as she takes some shaky steps toward the now-extinguished firepit.

"You haven't answered my question, what do you mean you weren't really dead?"

"While my form is humanoid,"

Diyana gestures to herself with a free hand.

"... and follows most of the human anatomy rules, I made a few adjustments to it when I first conjured it, including hibernation for our sort of situation."

"You mean you were going under Torpor?"

The faerie woman nods.

"Aye."

Hellboy then proceeds to help his alive partner to take a seat near the firepit, carefully lowering her down in a sitting position before taking a seat next to her.

"And you're just now telling me this, why?"

Diyana at least had the decency to look sheepish. She places her tail in her hand and starts to pick at the mud still stuck to it.

"See here, Red, I really didn't mean to give ya such a startle,"

"Too late for that."

"... Either way, I was gonna say somethin' about it, but I suppose it slipped my mind."

Hellboy gives a few incredulous blinks. "Yeah, the fact that starving while in freezing temperatures leads to you becoming essentially dead to the world, is totally easy to forget about bringing up."

Diyana raises her hands up in surrender.

"Aye, aye, aye, I get it. But to be fair, I was a bit busy with other tasks at hand and I thought I would go into hibernation later."

Hellboy lets out a heavy sigh as he starts to slouch forward while rubbing a hand down his face and muttering under his breath.

"Goddammit lady..."

He then turns his head to look back over to Diyana with a softer expression.

"At least you're not dead. That's all that matters."

Hellboy recognizes the coquettish smirk that spreads across his partner's face and how her tail curls up in a tight "S" shape.

"Hold on, were you actually concerned for lil' ol' me, Handsome? I didn't think you cared so much."

"I was concerned about going crazy on my own, but at least with you still alive I have someone to blame."

Diyana titters in amusement with the tip of her finger delicately placed over her mouth at Hellboy's deadpan delivery.

"And yet you went as far to give me a nice little burial."

"It's not like I could've just left your "corpse" on the ground like garbage."

The phooka woman gives a dismissive wave of her hand.

"I wouldn't get in a twist too much over that, when I actually die, you wouldn't have anythin' to actually bury. I'd just return to the earth one way or 'nother."

"What do ya mean by that?"

"You'll know it when you see it."

Diyana ends on an, in Hellboy's opinion, ominous note. The faerie woman leans in his direction before speaking.

"Mind if we huddle up again? I'm bleedin' foundered from just having to dig myself out of the snow since somebody buried me alive."

Hellboy rolls his eyes but obliges and places Diyana on his lap.

"Yeah, yeah, I figured. I would've let you anyways so need to rub it in."

"That's grand to know, Handsome."

Hellboy didn't need to see his partner's face to know she was grinning. "This is only because we're in this sort of environment, so this is a one-time thing."

"I have a feeling it won't be just one-time,"

Diyana gives another low chuckle that causes Hellboy to feel more warmth building up in his body than earlier.

"but in all seriousness, I should warn you given our current situation, I'll be falling back into Torpor in perhaps a few hours to a few days."

"Thanks for the heads up."

"Oh and Red?"

Hellboy lets out a hum in acknowledgment.

"When I do go into hibernation again, please don't bury me alive."

"Keep bringing it up and I might just be tempted to do so."

...

Diyana stares at the low fire while eating her ball of snow for the evening, cat-like eyes in deep contemplation. Over what? Hellboy doesn't have a clue, as he, too, finishes his snowball. He then wraps his arms around his partner and sets his head on top of her head in their usual position. Hellboy doesn't worry too much when he starts feeling a wave of exhaustion creeping on the edges of his mind, as even in this freezing climate, he doesn't quite feel the unforgiving bite of winter the same as everyone. He's about to doze off until he's interrupted by Diyana speaking.

"Do you remember our conversation about where we would go after this ordeal?"

The fae woman asks in such a low volume that, even when the larger red man gave a low hum in acknowledgment, he could almost write it off as something his sleep-deprived mind conjured. That is until Diyana kept talking, a little louder this time.

"You also asked why I'd rather mingle among our fellow human agents than head back to the Emerald Isle. The answer's simple, I can't go back there because, I was exiled."

Hellboy's eyes widen in surprise as exhaustion starts to fall away.

"Did ya do something extremely horrible?"

Diyana gives a dry chuckle.

"Depends on your perception of "horrible," but I didn't commit any crimes against humanity. In fact, it was because I tried assisting that I can never go back."

Hellboy shifts in his position to get a better look at his fellow agent's expression to gauge whether or not she's lying. However, a part of him already knew that was not the case.

"How was that deemed horrible?"

Diyana sighs in melancholy, her ears drooping to match her feelings. She then reaches out a hand to the fire pit, where the shapeless smoke rising from the smoldering remains starts taking on a humanoid form with a faint purple outline around it.

"Perhaps a bit of visual aid would help to explain."

Hellboy squints at the whispy figure his partner made, recognizing it to be a smaller model of the latter. He watches in quiet awe as Diyana begins to weave her tale with smoke and color.

"Hundred of years and many moons ago, I was the typical young faerie. I would run across the Isle's plains and hills to my heart's delight and play tricks on any passing humans on a whim,"

The faerie woman then waves her hand to make the figure representing her turn change into a horse, then uses her other hand to creature a human-shaped figure that mounted her back. Horse Diyana appears to snicker before bolting off into the air, running circles around Hellboy's head. The horse-shaped apparition then dumps the unharmed and discombobulated person to the "ground" before galloping off. The horse shifts back into a younger Diyana, who turns to spot an entire phantasm village complete with featureless and ghostly men, women, and children milling about. The smoke-made faerie climbs a constructed tree to watch the village from afar.

"Other times, in between playing tricks collecting trinkets, and shining baubles that caught my eye, I would spend hours observing humans and all their quirks. So fickled, many of them are, clinging to rules and then having to adapt to seemingly nonsensical new rules before deciding ta hell with them! Yet, I can't deny how fond I am of their creativity and ingenuity,"

With a flick of her wrist, the village becomes formless for a moment before splitting off into shapes consisting of heavy plows; musket rifles; mechanical clocks; wheelbarrows; a water mill; the spinning wheel; along with much more inventions that the large red man could only vaguely recognize from textbooks on the Medieval Ages. Hellboy can't take his eyes off of the smokey images as they move to reform and reshape the misty shapes into new figures, bending to Diyana's will as if she simply raises her hands. The images then solidify to show the younger faerie passing by non-humanoid figures working with hammers and anvils or on a loom, all to then raise their blades, chest plates, and robes in presentation.

"In that same vein, I would watch the goblins and hobgoblins taking the pretty baubles they collected to make splendid blades and armor for the fae kings and queens,"

Diyana then makes a fist that she brings down on the flat of her palm.

"BANG! CLANG! Went the hammers,"

The conjugated shapes of the goblins raised their hammers and smashed them against their anvils, with sparks somehow flying from within the smoke.

"WHOOSH! Went their great furnaces."

Smoke, tinged orange, surged from behind the figures before dispersing and adding to the weaver's loom; from it, they produce a long unbroken flowing stream of smoke that gently flutters in the air.

"How could I not also love watching the other faeries and queens create beautiful art resulting from all the dedication and intricacy equal to that of the goblin forgers? Eventually, I had enough of simply watching and decided to try crafting, but with my own twist."

Diyana then manipulates the smoke to depict her younger self using her hands to shape formless blobs of smoke before presenting them to changing crowds of faes, including ones with crowns on their heads.

"I would create enchanted clothing that not only was fit for royalty but for battle with layers of their robes and gowns doubling as an arsenal of blades or belts as whips and swords. Soon word spread of my talent, and shortly after, which were sought after far and wide by many kings and queen's courts, including their monarchs themselves!"

"Sounds impressive."

Diyana nodded in agreement without taking her eyes off the image she conjured of another goblin patting her younger self on the back while said self puffed out her chest and beamed in pride. With her focus diverted, Hellboy glances down at his fellow agent to find her pupils dilated and glistening. He then watches those pupils contract into thin slits and ball her hands into fists, the images darkening to match her change in mood.

"In my naive attempt to earn the praise and adoration of both human and fair folk, I tried to gift every human on the Emerald Isle items that I thought could improve their lives."

Diyana then makes a sweeping gesture to the smoke, causing it to writhe around before briefly stilling to create the items she then describes.

" Including mechanical bulls that would be more efficient in plowing their fields so they would not age nor become tired; small portions of lightning to help light and warm their homes; as well as clothing with pockets that are deeper than they first appear."

The fae woman clenches her hand into a fist, causing images, and the smoke disappears without a trace. When Diyana speaks again, her words are terse and have a venomous edge.

"Of course, the higher-ups didn't like that. They wanted to keep all the dwindling magic they could to themselves. When my mentor and the other royals learned what I did, they put me on trial. Heh, if you could call being chained up and forced to kneel while being scolded like a dog a trial. Even though, technically, by their own laws, I did nothing wrong."

Hellboy notices how his partner gripped her knees, causing the material of her gloves to creak. He's sure that if he could see her hands, the knuckles would be white from her grip.

"As the court decided my fate, I hoped I could rely on my friends and mentor, who encouraged my ambition, to defend me... I was wrong."

Hellboy looks back at Diyana, trying to gauge her thoughts, only to be met with a poker face that came from centuries of experience. The only thing to tell him about the pooka's internal state is how her tail twitched like an irritated cat. Diyana let out a heavy sigh, trying to push away the memory of how her mentor looked down at her chained form with disappointment and contempt etched deeply in his wrinkled face.

'If I knew you'd become a traitor to the wee folk, I would've never let ya step foot in my forge.'

She then takes a deep breath, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Diyana willed herself not to shed any before finishing her tale.

"After the court banished me from all of Northern Ireland, word soon spread of my... "treachery." No king or Queen's court would have me on their lands. Soon after, I was banished from setting foot in all of Ireland. So they put me on a boat with nothing but the clothes on my back, where it was decreed, I would never return to my homeland. Otherwise, I would suffer a slow and painful death before returning to the earth."

The pooka woman then leans back against Hellboy's barrel chest with her arms crossed over her chest. Without prompting, Hellboy wraps his arms around his partner, returning to their earlier position with him resting his chin atop Diyana's head. A veil of silence falls between them as the large red man contemplates and takes in what his fellow agent just divulged to him. Unlike when he buried his, presumably dead, partner, he's able to come up with a few words to say to her.

"... Do you ever miss it, your home? 'Cause for what it's worth, I'm glad to have you here."

Diyana feels her cheeks heating up and the corner of her mouth twitching, none of which Hellboy could see. Yet, he could hear the wistfulness in his partner's voice loud and clear.

"Aye, even with so many centuries have passed. I still long to run on its green grassy hills with the breeze in my mane; climb and rest in the woodlands, sometimes making small talk with travelers; drink from the marshes on a hot summer's day; pick blackberries in the brambles as a snack. It was once truly home for me."

"Do you miss anyone there?"

Hellboy catches Diyana's tail flicking in irritation out the corner of his eye.

"I doubt there'd be a welcome party much less a single faerie happy to see my mug. So they can all fuck their collective holes for all I care."

Hellboy lets out a chortle, which then breaks into a hearty laugh that proves infectious as Diyana soon joins in. A much-needed breath of alleviation both agents desperately needed.

...

Up high in the sky, miles the above the snowy landscape below is a chopper with the BPRD's signature logo on the side of the haul. Within the vehicle is Professor Broom and another agent accompanying the former in the search for Agent Hellboy and Agent Swann.

"We should be approaching the coordinates, Agent Muraro, but there's no sign of either of them so far."

Agent Muraro squints at the horizon, spotting what could be Hellboy's large figure crouched over.

"I think I see them or maybe just one, Professor. See something, anyway."

After landing the chopper, the Professor and Muraro approach the silhouette the latter spotted earlier. It turns out Muraro's initial assumption was correct as it became clear it was the two missing agents the closer they got.

"My word!"

Broom exclaims when he can make out more of the agents' states. Hellboy was hunched over with Swann's coat covering his back, although he and the coat were covered in snow and ice. However, the coat didn't do much to hide the large man's emaciated form, showcasing his prominent ribs and sunken cheeks. In his flesh hand was a similarly snow-covered hand-held two-way radio with some apparent modifications to lengthen the antenna. Similar to her larger partner, the faerie was covered in snow and ice with sunken in cheeks as a sign of starvation. Broom then takes notice of Swann curled up tightly in a ball in Hellboy's arms, one dirtied glove held over where his heart is and with both their tails intertwined.

...

Hellboy is the first one to regain consciousness, followed shortly by his partner, who's still in his lap. Diyana instinctively reaches for a knife strapped to her thigh when processing voices not belonging to her or her partner. When she opens her eyes, Broom and another man, another agent the faerie presumes, are standing on either side of her with a gloriously large campfire burning before her, melting the frigid chill from her bones with its searing heat.

"B-b-bruk Mor-r-rph..."

Diyana turns her head in the direction of Hellboy's groan, feeling his entire form shivering under her with both of them wrapped in a large blanket. She could feel his arms tight around her form trying to greedily take in her newly acquired warmth. Diyana opens her mouth to try and tell her fellow agent to ease up a little, but her words too came out as a jumbled mess.

" E-ee-ease u-upmh..."

"I think your lady friend is tryna tell you to ease up a little on her, kid. She's not a teddy bear."

The other agent speaks up for her. Hellboy glances down at Diyana before loosening his hold on her.

"Ssss-owy D-di-i-i."

Diyana gives a thumbs up to show all is good, not making any move to break away from Hellboy but opting to raise her hands toward the fire in front of them. Broom takes note of how at ease the two agents seem with each other compared to their usual quarrelsome interactions. Then again, he reasons, desperate times call for desperate measures.

The Professor then goes on to explain how the Bureau has been searching for Hellboy and Swann ever since they disappeared from the Ice Island for a little over six weeks. Finally, they had a lead when the U.S. department got word from Tokoyo that one of their whaling vessels picked up a BPRD distress call from the South Atlantic. Basically, the craft that took both agents ended up from the Earth's North Pole to its South in little time.

"...I can only speculate that the craft that brought you both here passed through the Earth, somehow. There are, of course, countless legends about the Hollow Earth, and hidden passages that connect one pole to another. I had assumed these to be metaphors for the hidden recesses of the human mind, but they may have a material reality. Perhaps those who constructed the craft had knowledge of such passages."

Swann then takes a sip from the hot cup of joe Muraro served her and Hellboy before handing it to the latter.

"Yer-rr... hmph... You're right the morans who had knowledge of the craft knew 'bout them and it's not too far outside the realm of possibilities for such passages to exist. We fae already use our own sorta of hidden passages to move from one place to another, however, while the Otherworld may be different in geography and built from the mortal realm it's still adjacent to it. I myself use but a fraction of them whenever I teleport."

Broom's eyes widen as his brows raise to his forehead.

"Fascinating, have you ever gotten a good look at these passages from within the Otherworld or this one?"

Diyana shakes her head.

"Nah, I don't really have to look, I more or less just know where I'm going when I'm in there."

"Genetic or muscle memory perhaps?"

"I would say more along the lines of the latter given I had years upon years of practice in regards to teleporting."

Muraro clears his throat to grab both scholars' attention.

"I have a question of my own for either you or Hellboy; what went on down here anyway?"

The man gestures with his head at the debris spread out around them. This time, Hellboy is the one to do the talking.

"Bunch of Nazis. Flying saucers. We took care of it."

Hellboy closes his eyes and takes a long sip of his joe.

...

EPILOGUE: Some Years Later

Hellboy and Diyana stand beside each other at the foot of a Queen sized bed with floral patterned covers and pillows. Hellboy glances between the bed to his fellow agent from the corner of his eyes.

"Um-"

"Let me stop ya there 'fore ya embarrass yerself. We can both share the bed. We're both fully grown adults, not some hormonal youngins."

"I guess you have a point."

Diyana then bites the bottom of her lip as her tail curls tightly on itself.

"But I wouldn't mind if you decide to have a ride with me."

"There it is."

Hellboy rolls his eyes playfully, not so surprised that's where the faerie woman's line of thinking went.

"In all seriousness, look at your sleeping options; we have one bleedin' bed set, there's a hard cold floor, and there's no couch unless you want to sleep on the small table and chair,"

Diyana gestures to the furniture placed right under one of the windows, giving them a nice view of the dense, snowy Norwegian woods with the sun dipping behind the tree line to bathe them in ethereal glow. A thick blanket of snow covers everything, including the only road leading to this middle-of-nowhere motel they're staying in. Hellboy then looks back at the bed before avoiding eye contact with his fellow agent.

"Remind me again why you didn't just spring us for a nice hotel?"

"'Cause the nearest one is about 70 kilometers away from where we're supposed to find some fire giants and this motel is closer."

"Yeah, that checks out."

Diyana then turns her head to look at her partner with a teasing smirk and hands on her hips.

"Is the idea of sharing a bed with me that horrible?"

"Err no. No. It's just, usually we have our own beds and err well,"

Hellboy groans with his left hand rubbing down his face, his tail flicking on its own accord. Without another word, Diyana grabs the pillows and starts evenly lining them down the middle as a barrier. When she finishes, she turns around to face her partner, gesturing to the pillow wall.

“Better?”

“Uh yeah, yeah, much better. “

Diyana gives Hellboy a soft smile.

“If it’s any comfort, it isn’t too different from when we ended up around Antarctica.”

“Right, just without the threat of freezing to death.”

“There we go!”

Diyana then crouches down to reach into her carpet bag to pull out a manilla folder with some papers, including pages copied from old tomes and newspaper clippings pertaining to the fire giants. She hands this folder to her fellow agent for him to review.

"Imma freshen up in the jacks and slip into somethin' more comfortable. Could you review the file meanwhile?"

"Not a problem."

"Thanks, Handsome."

Diyana struts past her partner, briefly looking over his shoulder to blow him a kiss before disappearing into the bathroom. Shortly after, Hellboy hears the sound of pipes creaking and groaning, followed by the sound of running water. He then sits on the right side of the only bed before opening the file and taking out a printed page detailing the fire giants' homeland, Muspellheim. Hellboy is unable to focus on the paper to the point he finds himself rereading the same paragraph over and over again without actually taking really reading it, his mind entirely on something not giant-related.

'What would Di's version of "something comfortable" be?'

In his mind's eye, he could see the pooka in a lacey nightgown that stopped just below the knees and hugged her curves in all the right ways, extenuating her lithe figure. The gown has thin straps, displaying her collarbone and a tasteful peak of her cleavage. Hellboy can almost hear Diyana's flirtatious words while giving her usual coquettish grin before it turns into a sweeter expression, her body language relaxed and at ease. She then opens her arms, beckoning him to-

'NO!'

Hellboy's head shoots up from his reading, wondering where that came from. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he groans to himself, frustrated with himself for conjuring those images.

'Come on, get it together! You're not some horny teenager that loses it by sleeping near a woman, much less a friend. You're a grown-ass man that can control himself! You're just sleeping beside your friend, not sharing a marriage bed!'

Hellboy lets out a long sigh before placing down the file, deciding to head out for a quick smoke. He just got up from the bed before the bathroom door opened with a large cloud of steam pouring out into the main room. Hellboy watches as Diyana's familiar figure emerges from the steam, releasing a breath he didn't realize he's been holding in relief.

Instead of the alluring nightgown he imagined, his partner wore a blue-green sleeping shirt with long sleeves with ruffles at the end; the collar was covered in lace but in a way that completely covered her chest and most of her neck. Diyana's lower half matches her upper half with pajama pants that only expose her from the ankle down. Instead of letting down her loose ebony locks, her hair is confined in a silky purple nightcap. Hellboy notes the single pink hair curler set at the end of his partner's tail with an amused snort. Diyana rolls her eyes with a small smile.

"You finished reading up on the file?"

"Yeah."

The large red man then picks up the file to hand to his partner's outstretched hand. In the back of his mind, he notes something different from his fellow agent's usual attire but quickly rationalizes it to wearing ordinary pajamas. He then goes to the front door with Diyana plopping down on the left side of the mattress with file in hand.

"Heading out for a smoke. I shouldn't be long."

"Aye, Imma do some light readin' here before turnin' in. Just lettin' ya know so you don't mistakenly bury me alive again."

Diyana could only see the back of Hellboy's head as he let out a pantomime groan.

"That was one time, Di."

With that, he opens the door and heads out, not having to look behind him to see his partner's amused grin. Later that evening, after deciding his head is clear enough, Hellboy steps back into the shared motel room. He surmises he may have been out for some time, judging by how he found Diyana fast asleep, curled up in a tight fetal position.

After hanging up his duster, Hellboy tries to move as quietly as he can, trying to be courteous to his fellow agent. Of course, stealth has never been exactly his strong suit and the fact he's walking against a hard floor with hooved feet didn't exactly help. He tenses up and stops dead in his tracks when his partner lets out a groan.

"Sorry, Di."

Hellboy whispers to the faerie who, besides a twitch of an ear, didn't seem to react to his words. Diyana shifts a bit in her slumber when HB finally lies down on the other side of the makeshift pillow barrier, causing the mattress to dip under his greater weight and the springs to creak, causing him to cringe.

"Sorry again, Di."

"Mrrhhh..."

Came the faerie's only response before stretching a bit and nuzzling into her pillow with her hands gripping the soft material. Hellboy glances over and suddenly hit him about what seemed so different about his partner.

'So she can take them off.'

He takes a moment to look over Diyana's ungloved hands, almost feeling as if he's seeing something he's probably not supposed to. Yet, he can't stop his eyes from noting her short black claws or the faint scratch lines and uneven skin from scars that dot the skin, possibly from years of working with machinery and or in the clothing business. If he were to hold one of these hands, they're probably a bit calloused from centuries of labor. Would Diyana let him hold her bare hands, he wonders? Realizing he may have been staring too long, Hellboy is quick to lie down with his back to his partner and a giant stone fist hanging off to the side.

...

Dawn barely broke out from behind the horizon when Diyana woke up. She lets out a yawn before huddling close to the source of warmth in her arms, her mind in a sort of haze as it stood between sleep and consciousness. In the back of her mind, Diyana finds herself wanting nothing more than to stay surrounded by the warm cozy thing and its pleasant smell that reminded her somewhat of roasted peanuts. Yet the sound of light snoring has Diyana opening her eyes, filling them with crimson.

She pulls away a little to find the warmth she was cuddling is actually Hellboy. She glances away from him to find the pillows she set up yesterday scattered all over the bed, leaving nothing between them. Sometime during the night, he moved onto his back so his massive stone hand was still hanging off the side of the bed, but his left arm was wrapped around her shoulders. Diyana is on her side, tucked against Hellboy, with her bare hands pressed against her fellow agent's chest, one hand right over his heart. While their legs were still covered by the comforter, the faerie woman could feel her leg hooked on the inside of her partner's leg, their tails intertwined.

Diyana feels the back of her neck all the way to the tip of her ears grows hotter with each passing second, unintentionally giving Hellboy's tail a squeeze with her own. In return, the large red man gives Diyana a small squeeze of his own while muttering something too incoherent for her to make out. After spending a few minutes biting her lower lip to keep from screaming, she then takes a deep breath, willing her racing heart to slow down, which works, sorta. Diyana could still feel the prominent blush on her cheeks as she tucked her head back under Hellboy's jaw, the sound of his soft snoring in one ear and the sound of his heart beating strongly in another. She then closes her eyes, a small genuine smile on her face, and lets herself believe that, just for one moment, they're not merely co-workers and friends sleeping next to each other; instead, this is a-

'No. No, I just want to enjoy a few more minutes of shut-eye.'

Diyana fervently tries to convince herself before deciding to just let herself relax in Hellboy's embrace.

When her fellow agent began to stir awake, the faerie quickly popped into the bathroom to get ready for a day of giant hunting. Back in bed, Hellboy fully stirs awake and looks over the collapsed pillow barrier.

A/N I have no regrets for making such a long piece! Stay weird, my fellow humans!

[hoursofreading]

They put up a thatch-roof shed by the boat jetty, then borrow large cauldrons from the Parambil houses, the sort everyone keeps for weddings. They seek out old Sultan Pattar, the legendary wedding cook, who is reluctant until he sees the shed, the stacked wood, the four firepits, and the polished cauldrons. The old man’s blood stirs. Pattar concocts a cheap, nutritious meal with kappa as its base, because every household can donate a few tapioca tubers. Soon the “Feeding Center” opens. Each person gets a mound of kappa, one dollop of a thoren of moong beans, a dab of a lime pickle, and a teaspoon of salt on their banana leaf. An animated Sultan Pattar is unrecognizable: clean-shaven, shirtless, bouncing on his toes, and barking orders at Pattar’s Army—the enthusiastic Parambil children who are pressed into service to chop, scrape, ladle, and clean. Pattar entertains them, dancing with mincing steps, his breasts jiggling while he belts out songs with sly meanings.

Abraham Verghese - The Covenant of Water

[technicallykeenchaos]

Embracing the Warmth: The Art and Science of Firewood Selection

In the heart of winter, there's a primal comfort in the crackle and glow of a well-stoked fire. Yet, behind this elemental pleasure lies a thoughtful process: the selection of firewood. Beyond mere fuel, firewood embodies a delicate balance of art and science, where each log carries its own story, potential, and characteristics. Let's delve into the intricacies of palivové dřevo selection and uncover the secrets to a perfect blaze.

Firstly, not all firewood is created equal. Each species boasts distinct qualities that can significantly influence your fire experience. Hardwoods like oak and maple burn longer and hotter, making them ideal for sustained warmth during chilly nights. On the other hand, softwoods like pine ignite quickly, perfect for kindling but requiring frequent replenishment. Understanding the properties of different woods empowers you to tailor your fire to your specific needs, whether it's a slow-burning evening by the hearth or a swift, cozy firepit gathering.

Beyond species, the moisture content of firewood is paramount. Wet or "green" wood not only produces excessive smoke but also fails to generate sufficient heat, leaving you shivering in disappointment. Seasoned wood, however, has been properly dried, ensuring optimal combustion and efficiency. Investing in a moisture meter can be a game-changer, allowing you to gauge the readiness of your firewood with precision.

But firewood selection isn't solely about functionality; it's an opportunity to engage with nature's diversity. Each piece of wood tells a story of its origin, from the gnarled branches of an ancient oak to the slender limbs of a fragrant cedar. Embracing this diversity adds depth to your fire experience, connecting you to the natural world in a tangible, intimate manner.

Moreover, sourcing firewood ethically is essential for environmental sustainability. Opting for locally sourced wood reduces carbon emissions associated with transportation while supporting your community's economy. Additionally, prioritizing dead or fallen trees minimizes the ecological impact, preserving the vitality of forests for generations to come. By embracing responsible practices, you not only nurture your fire but also contribute to the broader health of our planet.

In the realm of firewood, preparation is key. Proper storage ensures that your wood remains dry and seasoned, ready to ignite at a moment's notice. Stacking wood in a well-ventilated area, elevated from the ground, protects it from moisture and pests while allowing air circulation for optimal drying. Investing time in preparation pays dividends when winter's chill descends, granting you the gift of effortless warmth and comfort.

Furthermore, firewood selection transcends mere practicality; it's a form of self-expression. The scent of cedar or the crackle of birch evokes memories, stirs emotions, and sets the tone for intimate gatherings or solitary reflections. In a world often dominated by technology and haste, the simplicity of tending a fire reconnects us to our primal roots, grounding us in the present moment and fostering a sense of peace.

In conclusion, the art and science of firewood selection offer a gateway to a deeper connection with nature and oneself. By understanding the nuances of different wood species, prioritizing sustainability, and embracing the rituals of preparation, we transform a mundane task into a soul-nourishing experience. So, as the flames dance and the embers glow, let us savor the warmth of the fire and the richness of life's simple pleasures.

[klayaeus]

Stay Warm in Chilly Weather Conditions

Nothing like snuggling up with a warm, crackling fire as the winter weather turns chilly and frost covers the ground. Where is the source of that firewood, though? Where firewood providers come in, though, is exactly were! In the dead of winter, we rely on these unsung warriors to supply the fuel that lights our fireplaces and makes our houses snug. You can say that Wood Suppliers in Dubaiis a best source to get fire woods we want in winter.

How to Pick the Best Firewood Provider?

Several factors make it critical to choose a reliable firewood or Charcoal Suppliers in Uae. Priority one: quality. How clean and efficient your fire is will depend on the wood you use to burn it. Further, long-term viability is essential. To preserve the ecosystem for the benefit of generations to come, responsible sourcing guarantees ethical forest management. Trustworthiness is crucial. Mainly, when the temperature drops and your heating demands are at higher side, you need a provider that reliably deliversRound Corten Steel Plantersor Charcoal in Dubai.

Things to Consider When Choosing a Firewood Provider

In terms of wood quality, try to find Hardwood Pellets for Saleor vendors that sell seasoned hardwoods such as oak, maple, or birch. Less smoke and creosote buildup, which can cause chimney fires, are byproducts of burning wood that has been seasoning.

Suppliers of Cor-Ten Steel Planters for Sale with easy door-to-door delivery choices should be seriously considered. If you cannot carry a lot of firewood on your own, this will save you a lot of time and energy. To further facilitate the orderly storage of your wood, certain vendors even provide stacking services.

Customer Reviews: Read what other people have to say about your business online. A trustworthy and reliable supplier will have positive reviews. Take note of feedback regarding the consistency of delivery, the quality of the wood, and the service provided.

Value and pricing: You should not base your decision only on pricing. Think on the supplier’s value proposition, considering features like wood quality, sustainability, and customer service. Spending a bit more up front can often be justified by the superior quality of the wood and the care you receive.

Why Firewood Suppliers Are Beneficial?

Save time and effort by not having to find and carry firewood yourself when you work with a reliable supplier of Firepits for Sale. You can spend that time relaxing by the fire with loved ones instead of cutting and stacking wood.

Guaranteed High-Quality: When you shop with seasoned experts, you can be assured that you will obtain firewood of the highest quality, allowing you to get the most out of your fires. More and more heat is produced with less amount of ash and smoke when utilizing well-seasoned wood as it burns cleaner and hotter.

During the winter months, firewood vendors are essential for maintaining a warm and comfortable house. The dependability, sustainability, and quality of your firewood supply can be assured by selecting the correct source. Be careful with your fuel selection the next time you need to light a fire in your home.

[jinmark]

Omaha Music Room

[fiddleabout]

“Finally,” Ava sighs out.  It’s barely anything, but it has walls and a roof and, crucially, a firepit and a stack of bearskin blankets.  The door closes on the howling northern wind and Ava watches as the druskelle, ice crystallized in her dark hair and along her darker eyelashes, immediately sets to sorting the stacked firewood by dampness and finding a tinderbox and flint for the fire.

“You just never stop, do you,” Ava says as she sets to peeling off her ratty kefta.  Running away from Os Alta and the Darkling had seemed like a good idea at the time, keeping the sunlight that had found its way out of her away from him an imperative to protect Diego and the rest of Ravka, but in avoiding anyone Ravkan she’d ventured too close to the permafrost and stumbled into a druskelle camp.  And then the storm hit, leaving her to die in a cage in a sinking ship full of druskelle riding high on the fact that they captured Ravka’s only hope for destroying the shadow sea that kept them economically crippled.  Her kefta is a heavy weight that nearly drowned her in the ocean when the ship sank, and is just as liable to kill her now with how waterlogged and cold it is.

The druskelle doesn’t say anything, just like she hadn’t said anything since sulkily agreeing to let Ava’s sunlight and the barest edges of warmth it offered keep them from freezing while they swam their way to shore with her navigation.  

The kindling catches, and the drier pieces of wood burn quick.  Ava finishes stripping away her clothes, the faintest edges of heat from the infant fire licking at the clammy skin of her back, and she’s halfway to wrapping one of the musty bearskins around herself when a strangled noise sounds from behind her.

“What are you--”

“What, they don’t teach you basic winter survival in grisha murder school?” Ava says in perfect Fjerdan as she turns, waiting an extra half second to tug the bearskin up enough to cover her sternum and collarbones just to see the reaction she gets: a dark flush, highlighting freckles that had been almost invisible to date; an abrupt realignment of her gaze towards the patched roof of the shack; hands locked behind her back, as if she’s not actively shaking with the cold of her waterlogged and frozen clothes.  “You should, too, unless you want to suffer the embarrassment of freezing to death in an empty shack after surviving a shipwreck.”

“It’s not proper.”  Her eyes stay locked on the ceiling, her shoulders stiff under her sodden clothes.  Ava sighs and steps closer to the fire, close enough that the bearskin around her brushes along the sleeve of her uniform and the saintsforsaken wolfhead on the shoulder identifying her as an elite Fjerdan grisha-hunter.  The druskelle bristles; it’s undermined by the way she shudders and nearly trips jerking away from Ava.

“And dying is?”  Ava settles down with a sigh next to the fire, wiggling one hand out of the bearskin and holding it towards the fire.  The druskelle redirects her focus from the ceiling to the meager pile of firewood, feeding a larger log onto the growing fire.  It smokes aggressively, the heavy wet of the coastal winter leaving the wood damp and sizzling.  “And after I so generously saved your life.  Seems dishonorable to let yourself die now.”

“You--” she cuts off, lips pressing together tightly.  Or, at least, they try to; her teeth are almost chattering with the cold.  “You can barely swim.  You hardly did anything but a little bit of cursed light.”

“And you would’ve frozen without it,” Ava says smugly.

[yanderemommabean]

(I saw the Yandere Summoning post and was ~inspired~ A bit long, but I do love my build-ups! Edited version so hopefully I haven't missed anything again.)

How had things turned out like this? You don’t even like the spooky stuff! You hate horror movies, not because you think they’re bad, they just scare you too easily! So taking part in this stupid ritual your friends had cooked up should have had you running for the hills! You had only stuck around to help them figure out the symbolism of the objects they wanted to choose. That was supposed to be it! End of!

But then Pete had started to get spooked, what with the summoning circle made of actual blood- Stuey had some pigs blood that he was going to mix with bait to catch some feral cats in the area, and for fishing apparently. And Lucy had begged you to add something. You still had some swords and stuff in your car from a renaissance fair and since they were using real blood you decided, why not real swords? So you grabbed two and threw on some chains and feathered necklaces that you had bought for yourself, and gifts for others, and then a few other bits and pieces because, hell, why not go the whole nine yards?

So you held Pete’s hand and said the words, and screamed a bit when the candles went out, and the wind howling was definitely freaky, and you had wanted to run out of the room. The hairs on the back of your neck rising and goosebumps everywhere and shivers running up and down your back. Even Lucy and Eden had huddled close as Pete practically climbed into your arms. The ritual finished and everything died down, and someone turned the lights back on. As you wrangled control of your heart-rate, and looked about as you gently put Pete back on his feet.

Nothing had changed, and everyone began to laugh and joke. You rubbed the back of your neck to try and shake the feeling that something was off. You were just spooked, paranoid, and running on fear-induced adrenaline. You’re fine. Your friends are fine. Everything is fine.

You shook your head and headed upstairs to grab some marshmallows and a lighter, deciding to take advantage of everyone's distraction to get yourself a few extra treats before they wandered up and Eden tried to shove a whole bag of giant marshmallows in their mouth again.

You and your friends weren’t the only group here, it’s a popular camping area with a lot of oldey-cabins for big and small groups. Schools, conservationists, holiday-goers, campers, need-a-place-to-stay-after-the-renaissance-fair-goers, and it was even better because this cabin was close to the water and the boat house, and renting had included use of the two in there. You all decided to make a vacation of it, go to the fair and then relax at the cabin for a few days before heading home. It was a larger group than you’re used to, friends and partners and workmates tagging along, with more the merrier and everyone pitching in. So the extra peace was much needed.

As you stacked the wood in the firepit and got it ready to burn, your ears pricked at the sound of whooshing air. Looking up and around trying to spy a bird or something, hopefully one you haven’t accidentally pissed off somehow, you saw nothing but shadows and starlight. 

“They owe me a billion muffins for this.” You muttered as you lit the firepit. Sitting back on one of the camper chairs and began the process of roasting sweet fluffy marshmallows, just to the point of them being completely on fire and only blowing it out once they’re completely charred on the outside. The rest of the night goes normally, and once the sugar high dies down, you stumble to your bed to fall asleep as the rest of them either linger or wander to their own bunks. When morning rolls around, you stumble downstairs and shamble to the coffee. Some are already down, and you have no idea how, but good for them. Others start making their way down, and you hum a greeting, not yet capable of actual words.

Throughout breakfast, you can’t help but glance out the windows. Every now and then you swear you see something out of the corner of your eye, or something in the treeline in the distance, or hear a particularly loud splash from the water. A few of your friends look around from where they sit, also feeling a little on edge. Something… doesn’t feel quite right. You all do your best to ignore it, but you have a niggling. If everyone is feeling this, is it paranoia?

After everything is washed, and you all sort out what you want to do, everyone starts to wander off in groups. As you exit the backdoor, you notice that it won’t close properly, and keeps creaking open. 

“Hey, Pete, did things get rowdy after I left last night?”

“Not really, why?” He stands next to you as you show him the door, and starts to fiddle with the lock. It won’t click shut, and even when it does, a few shakes of the door make it click back to ‘unlocked’. 

“Well, people did get a little drunk. Maybe they were a bit clumsy with the door? It’s probably old and a few heavy handed idiots were its last straw.” You speak up, not all that convinced, but you still send a text to the group chat letting them know that the door is fucked. You and Pete wedge it shut with a piece of wood, at least to keep any critters from sneaking in, and head to catch up with Lucy who went to the boathouse to get the fishing gear. 

The three of you have fun, picking a spot a fair distance away so you can all have some peace and quiet and maybe even catch something for dinner. You know Stuey can work miracles with fresh ingredients. There were a few spooks, though, when you felt watched and kept looking over your shoulder, and all three of you heard that ‘whooshing’ sound again but when you looked around there was nothing. Hearing the snaps of branches had you all jumping to your feet, you brandishing your walking stick and Lucy grabbing a knife while Pete hid behind you two. Pete isn’t a fighter, too soft and sweet, and frankly since he’s the one who went to med-school, you want to keep him safe so he can patch you up later. 

You decide to go to the treeline, at least, like an idiot in the horror movies that you refuse to watch who dies first. You’re gonna die because you’re an idiot who needs to make sure your friends at least have the chance to run if something jumps out to eat you-

You freeze at a larger black shape, and it takes exactly 0.2 seconds for your brain to tell you it’s a bear. You quickly turn to your group, and gesture to your gear.

“It’s a bear, I think. Time to pack up and head back.” You say in a harsh whisper. You had heard black bears aren’t too dangerous if you leave them alone, but you aren’t taking the chance. Not with how off you feel. Besides, it’s getting towards the afternoon, and with any luck there’ll be some leftover lunch-stuff, or just beg Stuey to make something for them.

The trip back was a bit rushed, but by the time you all got back you were all relaxed and joking about it. You really, really hoped what you saw was a bear.

By the time everything was put away and you were hauling your catch into the kitchen, you felt the mood drop again as you saw one of the other members of the big group walk into the space, looking relieved at the sight of the three of you.

“Oh thank god, we couldn’t get a hold of you guys.”

“We went out fishing, remember? Probably went outside of cell-phone range, this place is pretty hilly” He nodded at Lucy’s reply, and he began to wring his hands.

“Look, this is gonna sound really bad, but we’re trying not to accuse anyone of anything- it’s just. Ugh,” He shook his head, and took a deep breath, “Did any of you go near the cars this morning? Or notice anything weird?”

The three of you exchanged looks, and a feeling of foreboding filled the room. “No. Guys?”

They both echoed your reply, confusion and concern obvious on their faces.

“Ah, shit.” The other guy said, Matt you think his name was.

“What happened to the cars?”

“What didn’t happen to them?” Matt laughed a little, but it sounded strained even to your ears, “Some had punctured tired, others had their steering wheels and wires messed with, some won’t even start, or had the car batteries stolen. One actually had the whole engine removed. At this point we’re trying to mix and match to try and get one car working, but most even got their spare tires messed with, and with so many odd wheel sizes we probably won’t be able to get far anyways.”

During all this, you felt another niggling in the back of your brain. Along with budding panic, but you pushed that aside. Absently grabbing Pete’s hand as you pulled out your phone with your free one, letting Lucy take over the conversation. 

No messages. No updates. No signal. 

That’s not right. You should at least have a signal in the cabine. You don’t even have the internet right now. No wifi. No nothing.

“There’s no signal, and I’m not getting the internet.” You try to turn your data on, but nothing changes. “Data’s fucked too. Any luck?” The others scramble to get their phones out and check. Within a few seconds Matt is cursing, and runs out to the group outside. Lucy heads to one of the computers, and there’s a slight cheer a minute later.

“We still have a landline!” She called out, tapping away on the computer. 

“Send a report to the guys who run this place, or whoever. And a police report.”

“Is that necessary?” Pete asked, looking at you. You grimace, but nod.

“Remember the RP games we play? What do we do when there’s a particularly well-entrenched, heavily fortified enemy base?”

Pete’s eyes widened at that. “We poke holes in their defences, then go for one big strike before they notice or can do anything about it. Then everything falls like dominoes.” He recited, shaking. You hold him, and look around the kitchen. This is a big cabin- hell it’s more a lodge or a holiday house, there are plenty of ways to get in, and more places to hide. 

“Lucy!” You call, heading her way and transferring the shaking Pete to her, “I’m calling a group meeting, keep at the computer.” And with that, head outside to the group of arguing adults. You head to your car, and start pulling out weapons.

Stopping on the way back inside, you nudge Stuey with your foot. They look your way and frowned at the sight of you, before turning to the group and letting loose a loud whistle. Everyone quietens down, and with a cheery grin you jerk your head back to the house.

“Meeting inside in thirty seconds, can you make sure the rest of the group attend?” And turn to march with a bundle of weapons and armour. Will it help? Probably not. But it makes you feel better. As you set everything down, Lucy walks in with a grim look, before you can ask she shakes her head. Looks like the landline had been taken out, then. Fuck.

It actually takes a little over a minute, but everyone in the house is crowded in the large living room, people sitting on every available surface to help make room, and also because it’s free sitting space. You’re sitting on one of the large window sills, which is pretty high off the ground actually. You make quick work of laying out the happenings during the day, and the paranoia you felt, the feeling of being watched, the broken door, the fucked up internet, the phone lines -which are not connected to the landline, evidently- and now the cars. You ask if anyone noticed anything else.

Hands go up, and one by one people add to it. Missing items, windows with locks removed, doors in a similar state, someone even mentioned that the motorboat in the boathouse wouldn’t turn on, despite it working fine yesterday. 

“What is this, a sick prank?” Stuey asked, a scowl on their face. Their car had been gutted, you remember. 

“Could it be one of our neighbours?” Someone asks, and you cross your arms, leaning your shoulder on the window frame and look over your shoulder to the outside. You could see both forest and water, and the nearest house could barely be spotted. Each one was pretty far away, for privacy and noise and all that. There’s very little chance even the nearest house could hear them even if they had a full blown party, so the odds of them doing this because they’re a bunch of pissed off holidayers is unlikely. More likely that they’re just assholes, but honestly you didn’t even know if anyone was staying at the closest houses, and if they were why would they spend so much time and effort to do all this?

“Maybe, maybe not. We got a few hours before nightfall, but trying to hike our way to the nearest town will take most of a day, and I don’t want to risk whoever is fucking with us to catch us in the dark. Any volunteers to head to the nearest houses? Maybe they’re having similar problems, and if not… well. If the place is empty we can probably go to those places instead of staying here with all the broken locks and shit.” You run your hand through your hair, pushing away the building panic in your head. Jesus, what were you even doing?

Stuey organises two teams of three to head in opposite directions of the shoreline, Pete mentions that they have a generator and battery, so the house should be okay for power, but he still heads out to make sure it hasn’t been sabotaged either. Some others talk about the boat, and head out to see if they can’t figure out a way to fix it.

Lucy is grabbing your hand, squeezing it in comfort, before heading upstairs to start barricading windows and doors with the last of the group. Stuey heads to the kitchen to cook up a feast, joking that if it’s gonna be their last meal, might as well make it good. 

You drop from the window, wringing your hands and wiping them on your thighs, feeling restless but unsure what to do. Looking down at the weapons you gathered, you head outside to grab whatever else is in the cars.

When you step outside, however, hairs rise on the back of your neck and you immediately throw yourself back and slam the door closed. You hear that ‘whooshing’ sound again and you’re gasping for breath. What the fuck was that? Pressing your back to the door, clutching at your chest. Hands at your shoulders make you lash out, slapping them away and trying to stand but your eyes cloud over as the world tilts.

You’re lowered gently to the floor instead of dropping, knees tucked underneath you, and you look up to see Stuey staring at you with concern. They’re saying something, but you can’t- it’s not- you can’t. They make you stare at their chest, a hand on their sternum, exaggerated, slow breaths, further emphasised by the movement of their hand, and you get the idea. Breathe. Breathe.

You follow the rhythm, and eventually find yourself back in your body. Sitting back, you lean against the door and nod.

“Sorry. I stepped outside and…” They nodded, no judgement, before standing and checking the windows.

“Don’t see anything. Maybe a good idea- did you leave your door open?” They ask, and you scramble to look out the window. Your car side door, and the back, are wide open. With a curse, you rush out the door and to the cars. Risky and stupid? Yes. But you need to know.

When you look inside, you’re cursing up a storm. From car to car you check, and by the time you head back inside you’re fighting the urge to destroy something. 

“Fuckers stole everything! Our gear, weapons, even our damn banner!” You spit, sitting heavily at the kitchen counter where Stuey had retreated after the first bout of swears.

“So, that’s all we have?” They nodded to the lounge room. Half a dozen swords, two unstrung bows, the top half of some armour, and a few arrows. That’s not enough, but it’s better than nothing.

You nod as Stuey puts a steaming mug in front of you. You sip it only because you need something to do, and you can’t down it like a shot. That would hurt like a bitch. You decide to help in the kitchen, cutting and stirring, whisking and whatever else was needed. It was something to do, and was better than just sitting there, waiting for the others to come back or for something else to go wrong.

One group comes back, and says that there was no one at the house, but it looked in a similar condition to theirs, if not worse. Another thirty minutes go by, and the other group is running through the door, looking sick and pale.

“The other- fuck! The people there, they were…” They try to speak, bent over and gasping for breath. “They’re dead! Shit! It was… god, there was so much blood every-everywhere. I- I think someone's arm was on the fan, jesus. I can’t-” They quickly stumbled to a bin and began heaving, shaking and sobbing.

“Well. Fuck.” You say quietly, feeling cold seep into you. “Right. Okay.” You grab a glass and fill it with water, and some crackers. Setting them aside, you kneel to comfort them. You weren’t super close, but still friends, and you hated seeing them like this.

Water and snacks later, you send them up to rest. And go report the news to the others. The boat is a lost cause, and while the electricity is working, the whole access panel is outside and tucked away somewhere that is full of corners and shadows. Why it isn’t in the garage or anything is beyond you, but you don’t dwell on it. You fit one of the guys with the armour, as they know how to move in it best. Others grab the swords, string the bows and share the arrows, while everyone else grabs knives, screwdrivers, whatever they can. Come daylight, they’ll make a break for it.

Night falls, everyone enjoys their meal in relative silence. It’s mostly defiance for you. You’re not letting these sick fucks ruin a good meal, and you talk about the duel that Pete won at the fair, and how the other guy had been such a dick before the match. The others, thankfully, joined in. Some stayed quiet, but listened. Some headed off rest as soon as dinner wrapped up, others lingered, or wandered throughout the house to man their posts. 

The house was big, so they had taken the mattresses down to the living room and created a large sleeping area and blocked off the top floor entirely as best they could. Whatever rooms they didn’t need were also blocked off, essentially giving them only the kitchen, bathroom, entryway and lounge room to guard, everyone paired was put in groups of two or three, no one was to be left alone. One half of the group would be on watch for half the night, then would begin to rotate out for the other half. You had opted for the first shift, figuring you wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways, and hopefully by the end you’d be tired enough to fall asleep at least for an hour or two.

It began half an hour before rotation was scheduled, when there was noise above them. A heavy ‘thump’. Then sounds outside, movement, and then a howl of all things! Long and low and loud. It sent shivers down your spine, and you gripped your sword.

A knock had you stifling a scream, and you were glad you weren’t the only one who let out a scared sound, as you turned to the door. You stared at the door, uncomprehending, as another light set of knocks echoed through the house. A nudge had her turning, and Lucy nodded to the door, then the stairs. You nodded in reply, and got the attention of another pair. You gestured to the stairs, and they gave shaky nods. Moving up with slow, quiet steps, until they were out of sight.

You stepped towards the door, then froze. More knocking, still polite and light, and you took more. Step, breathe, step, breathe. That’s how you got to the door. Without really knowing what to do, unable to bring yourself to speak, and not insane enough to actually open the door, you knock back. Thrice. Quick and clear.

“He-hello?” Pete spoke up, barely a wisp of a noise, and he cleared his throat before speaking louder, “Hello?” He was shaking like a leaf, and his voice was weak but could be heard clearly. Better than what you could do. 

“Is there a Lucy present? I received a report about some kind of disturbance?” There was a melodic voice, muffled from the door, that reached them. It was foriegn, unfamiliar, and despite its soothing tone it made you tense up. 

You held up a hand before Lucy could open her mouth, “That depends,” You say, stepping up to the door and bracing it slightly, your hunting sword clasped in one hand while the other pressed to the door by the handle. “Who are you?”

“Oh, where are my manners? You may call me Theophania, may I have yours?” The voice was sweet, cool and light and you didn’t trust it one bit. Plus, that bit about ‘may I have yours’ made something in you lurch uncomfortably. You remember all those stories about how names have power, and giving your name gives others power over you.

“You may not have my name, but you may call me Alex.” There. Neutral, polite, and vague enough to limit clues on your identity. You don’t know how much this… person might know, but you don’t want to risk giving them more than they may already have.

“Ooh, clever. I can see why they like you. I understand you are likely a friend of hers, and are only trying to protect her and each other. I can’t fault you for that, in fact I find it commendable. Trying to protect each other, but there’s nothing to fear. We’re here now. I promise you no harm will come to dear Lucy, that’s the last thing I want. So, won’t you send her out, please?”

You mind whirled with questions, but you bit them back and took a deep breath. “You’ve given me a name, but you haven’t told me who you are, only what you’re after. Why her?” And what will happen to the rest of us?

“Would you believe me if I said I’m here to help? Lucy, mostly, but the rest of you as well? None of these people I particularly wish to make enemies of, you know?”

“No, I’m afraid I wouldn’t believe you. You mentioned a report, but the internet cut before it could be sent.” You paused as terror gripped you. “What do you mean, ‘these people’? How many of you are there?”

“Oh, darling, there’s only one of me. But the rest of us?” There was a chuckle, “Looks like you’re about to meet some of them, don’t hold their impatience against them, they’re just eager is all.” 

You turned, and saw red eyes fill one of the windows on the far side of the house and everyone was currently focused on the front door!

“Behind-!” Glass shattered, and there was screaming and crashing and running. Between one blink and the next, you were running into the woods. Weapon lost -you had thrown it at something that lept for Pete- and both hands dragging your friends along. You should have all taken your chance with heading for town when you had the chance, now you had to hope that everyone and everything had converged on the house, and that the shadows of the forest would give you enough cover to escape.

The house was mostly out of sight when the ground shifted under them, breaking through dirt and stone. Large roots were upheaved causing them to stumble and fall. By the time you stood, something rope-like came from the darkness to wrap around Lucy. You saw her wide, terrified eyes, saw her reach for you, before she was pulled away screaming, too fast for you to follow and within seconds she vanished. You couldn’t even hear her screams. Or had they been cut off? Was she dead?

You moved to Pete, and forced him to stand and pushed him to keep running. Tears blurred your vision but you didn’t care. Lucy was lost, you had to take care of Pete.

“No! No! What about Lucy? We have to go back for her!”

“I know! But we can’t! We-” You bit back a sob, refusing to break right now, “We don’t know where she was taken, or how many there are, or if she’s even-”

“Don’t say it!” Pete sobbed as he took stumbling steps to where Lucy had gone. You followed a few feet behind. “We have to make sure! We have to save her. She would do the same for us, you know she would!”

“She would have thrown you over your shoulder and started running as fast as she could.” You shot back, but there was no heat, only fear and panic and worry and not wanting to lose another friend. “They may keep her alive for a while, they wouldn’t put so much effort to just kill everyone. If we run for town we might be able to get help, that’ll give her- give everyone a better chance.” You don’t know that. You’re basically lying through your teeth. You hope but daren’t believe. Pete is shaking his head.

“You go. I won’t leave!” He turned and bolted, and you cursed. Pete was a fast little shit when he wanted to be, and you shot after him.

You don’t make it far before you hear a howl, only this one is much, much closer. Skidding to a halt, you call for Pete, only to see a huge dark shape descend upon him. It’s horrifyingly familiar as you see bright eyes and glinting teeth but it’s not a bear but it’s not anything you’ve seen except- except- except.

Pete is thrashing and screaming, the beast is growling and you swear you hear it whining as it bundles up its prize. You make it a single step before it leaps into the trees, vanishing into the darkness like Lucy, though Pete’s screams echo for a lot longer. Your hand is up, halfway to reaching for him. 

That. Was that a… you can’t bring yourself to admit it. But still. It looked like a werewolf. And it took Pete. Sweet, gentle, Pete who was braver and stronger than most gave him credit for. And Lucy, supportive and kind and fiery in her own way. 

You choke as you realise you left Stuey behind. He had been behind you, you think. Running for the back door, and had only taken a few steps before something grabbed him and then… then just vanished. Glowing red eyes and a hissing noise and Stuey’s broken cry for them to run- dear god. Had that been a vampire?

And- and the one at the door. The way they talked. Fairy? Fae? Something? Oh god. What was happening. These things weren’t real. Shouldn’t be real. Couldn’t be real. Yet. And yet.

You stood in the middle of the forest, it was eerily quiet. Except for your own breathing. Christ. You needed to breathe, slowly, and calm down. Just, calm down. You can do this. You can make it to town. Tell someone, anyone, though omit some details. You would be labelled insane. Maybe you were. Still.

You turned, and began to jog through the woods. There a bunch of roads around here, if you kept going you could find one, and that would lead you to the main road and you could head to town and-

A familiar sound of something cutting through wind reached her, and before she could even slow down something dropped from the canopy -the sky- directly into her path. Dark wings attached to a large, humanoid shape. Eyes glowing a menacing violet in the darkness. You slid to a quick stop, it was several metres away, so you couldn’t see any real details besides the shape and the eyes. It was just… standing there. Staring at you. 

You turn to run the other way, when another body dropped from the heavens, it’s landing lighter than its fellow, but no less powerful or foreboding. This one had wings as well, but these ones glowed in the low moonlight, and as it stood and raised its head to look at you, you saw piercing blue eyes that seemed to be burning with their own light. 

You step back, but hit something before you can turn. There wasn’t anything behind you before. You feel your heart stutter when warm arms wrap around your waist, pinning your arms to your side before you can begin to struggle.

“Shh… Shh… you’re okay. You’re safe now.” A voice whispered, masculine and low and, in any other situation would have been incredibly soothing. However, it currently only terrifies you more.

“No! No! Get off! Let me go, please!” But their -his- grip only tightens, and his face burrows into the side of your neck. You feel more than hear him inhale, and he shudders. His wings flaring and ruffling in the corner of your eye.

“Don’t be afraid.” Warm, almost burning, hands cup your cheeks and turn your face up. You’re forced to stare into bright, burning blue eyes set in a handsome face. He smiles down at you, but you can’t tell much else in the darkness. “We would never hurt you. We’re sorry it took so long to find you, you must have been so scared.” His tone is reverent and regretful all at once. 

“Those fools were meant to help us, but of course they took their chance to grab what they wanted and leave.” The other spoke, irritated, retreating from your neck enough to kiss along your temple, before resting his cheek against your hair, “Though I can’t blame them, I would’ve done the same.”

“The others-? My friends! Please, are they okay?” You speak through your terror, struggling a little. You know it’s futile, you’re exhausted and they’re clearly stronger than you. Still, you try. You have to try.

“They’re safe, my love, you needn’t worry. They’ve likely never been better.” The one in front of you speaks, voice light and soft, but you’d be an idiot to miss the power there as well. As though what he spoke was written as truth never to be contested.

“What’s going on? Why did you…?” You couldn’t bring it to say it. Nor how to say it. What exactly were they doing besides traumatising you right now?

“Don’t you remember?” The light one asks, sounding surprised and hurt. “You called us here, you brought us out of our hell, imprisoned and separated. Perhaps we’ve been forgiven for our transgressions, but I will not question this blessing.” His hands began to wander, trailing along your neck and collarbone, up and down your arms, any exposed skin that he can reach.

“Who would have thought, after all those centuries of being deprived of everything, we would be rewarded with our missing piece? Our perfect match, the miracle that saved us.” The dark one rambled on, delighted and sounding a little delirious. “Oh, we’re going to love you so much. Just give us some time, love, we’ll have everything set up and perfect.”

“What set up?” You’re scared to ask, but you need to know. 

They both laugh lightly at that, and you feel warm lips on your forehead and another set on the back of your neck. One of your hands is taken, practically swallowed by the larger beings.

“Our home, of course. You’re new home.” They spoke. There was more touching, more petting, and you tried to wiggle away but their holds were unyielding. They didn’t seem to notice. 

“It needs a little work, but our friends have been taking care of it for us. Please be patient with us, and once we’re done, we’ll show you how thankful we are.” The light one pulled away enough to pick you up bridal style, the dark one dropping his arms to allow it. You wanted to fight, but fear and exhaustion kept you still as much as their own strength did.

“We’ll take good care of you. We love you so much. You’ll love your new life with us, I promise.” Knuckles caressed your cheek, and you looked into violet eyes, feeling sleep tug at you. You didn’t fight it. It was all too much and you didn’t want to deal with all this at once. You think maybe you were in shock. You let your eyes slip close, her head resting against a warm shoulder, and drifted away into blissful unconsciousness.

“We promise.”

(Done! Hope y'all enjoyed the read!)

Well done bean! 100/10!

-Mommabean

[sanisse]

May I request camping fluff with Caranthir with his edain s/o (fem), maybe a little spicy near the end (if you don't mind ofcourse)

ahhh yes <3 I love Caranthir! Thank you for the request. I hope you like your fic. 

Atop the Soft Green Earth | Caranthir x Fem!Reader 

Spice Level (1-5): 🌶🌶 (mild) 

Pairing: Caranthir/Fem Human!Reader

Warnings/tags: No warnings! This is mostly fluff with some grinding, fingering, and a bit of clothed sex near the end. 

Minors DNI - your media consumption is your own responsibility. 

“What are you working on?” you ask, looking over your shoulder where you’re stacking up wood and kindling in the newly made firepit. Caranthir is seated crosslegged on the grass, notebook open in his lap, sketching.

He doesn’t answer you.

A fond smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You get the fire going and then get up, dusting your knees off and crossing the clearing to crouch next to him and turn your attention to the notebook.

It’s a map. You can see the snaking river which he seems to have painstakingly matched bend for bend, the hillock the two of you had passed a quarter-mile back, and the mountain that looms in the northward distance. All sketched with upmost skill, laid out in mathematical precision. 

“Come eat,” you say. 

“You only just got the fire going,” Caranthir replies absently.

“I thought you weren’t paying attention?”

“I am always paying attention,” he says in that same tone, though it carries a hint of annoyance. 

You give one of his dark braids a fond tug, to which he swats at you, but there’s a twinkle of mirth in his eyes that tells you he’s not cross. After that, you leave him to his map and set about gutting the fish the two of you had caught that afternoon, filleting them, and setting them up to grill over the fire. Some of the coals you rake out to bury two potatoes in so they can bake. 

Caranthir really is paying attention, because once you’re done he sets his notebook aside to let the ink dry and then comes over to help you clean up, then takes a seat with you by the fire. 

You lean your head on his shoulder and Caranthir rests his cheek on top of your head, and the pair of you sit in some time in the comfortable silence that passes between you while the fish sizzles and the fire hisses and pops. The sky begins to blaze. The peach and fire-gold light reflects in Caranthir’s dark eyes and turns them the color of molten gold. 

When the fish and potatoes are done, you eat together. Caranthir shares the wine he’s brought in his saddle flask. His spicy and sweet, and warms your throat on its way down to curl in your belly like a dragon.

One by one, the stars wink to life. The fire dies down. You poke at it and watch the sparks fly upward to join their glittering white counterparts. 

“Tell me a tale,” Caranthir whispers softly as the pair of you sit there, tracing shapes in the night sky.

“What kind of a tale?” you ask. 

“A love story,” he replies. There’s something wistful in it. 

You lift your head from his shoulder and look up at him. “The Elves have so many, though!” 

“I would like to hear something new,” he says, turning to face you. 

You have to think for a moment. Eventually, you come up with the story: a king treacherously murdered by his brother, who cut him to pieces -- a king whose life loved him so dearly that she gathered all those scattered pieces and threw them into the sky, where he was born anew and hung there now, eternally, as a god. 

“Did she ever get to see him again?” Caranthir asks.

You rest your head on his shoulder again and point up to a particular constellation. “Yes. That’s him there. And that,” you trace across the sky eastward, “Is his wife. The gods took pity on her in her grief and made her a goddess, so she could join her husband and they would never again be parted from each other.” 

“Romantic,” he murmurs.

“Mm, and deliciously sad,” you agree.

Caranthir leans forward to stir the coals a bit more. A few flames come to life and lick at the air, and just as quickly fade. The fire spins long shadows in the trees that might look eerie on any other night, but here with Caranthir you feel perfectly safe.

He rests his hand on your thigh. You turn to kiss him.

It’s soft, chaste. Caranthir’s mouth is warm against yours. He lets out a little sigh and nips at your bottom lip, then pulls you over to straddle his hips. You wrap your arms around his neck, hooking your chin over his shoulder, flattening your body along the long, flat planes of his until you can feel his heartbeat against your own.

Caranthir is quiet. He simply holds you, idly tracing the curve of your spine. Then, he nips at your neck and soothes the bite with a kiss that has you melting against him with a breathy sigh.

“You’re not tired from the ride?” he asks in your ear. 

“Not really,” you say. You are tired, but not so tired that you’d rather just go to bed for the night. To prove it, you roll your hips, grinding down into him. Caranthir groans, his hand tightening around your waist. He bites your neck again, and that pulls a whimper out of you, makes heat pool between your legs, makes you rock your hips into his growing length. It catches against your clit and feels so good. 

Soon the little clearing is full with Caranthir’s low hitches of breath and your own soft whimpers. He curls his fingers around your hips and tugs, encouraging you as you grind down on him until he’s rock hard beneath you and there’s a wet spot where you’re leaking into your riding trousers. The night has cooled, raising gooseflesh over your skin, but you hardly feel it. 

Caranthir kisses a line along your jaw, then captures your mouth as he adjusts his grip so he can slip a hand into your trousers. The second he finds how wet you are, both of you moan.

“Soaked, are we?” he whispers. 

“Fuck me?” you breathe against his mouth.

Caranthir pushes two fingers inside of you without preamble. You clutch at his shoulder and cry out. He curls them, pumps them in, out, in-- at an almost punishing pace until your thighs are shaking and you’re coming all over his hand.

You shove his fingers away the second you come back to your senses and sit back on your haunches long enough to shuck yourself out of your riding trousers, yank open his belt buckle, unlace his trousers, and pull out his cock. It’s hot and pulsing in your hands. Caranthir hisses and bucks up into your touch. You shove him, pushing him down to the grass, and climb on.

Caranthir swears, lets his head fall back against the grass, and lets you ride him. 

By the end of it, you’ve come again twice, and he bursts inside you with a sharp cry that you swallow in a kiss. He’s unable to hold still during it, pounding up into you, holding you in place with a grip on your hips that’s hard enough to bruise and you love it. 

The two of you curl up together afterward in your bedroll. Caranthir runs his hands through your hair, traces the curve of your spine, admires the bruises he’s left on your hips, and lets you sleep.