#wc overgrowth

[overgrowth-wc]

Snowdrift is new to all of this, ok? It’s not every night you get your full name, and it’s not every night you get a dire warning from your ancestors- with a shady deputy to worry about and everybody starting to look at him like he’s crazy, he’s got a lot going on.

Teasel just wanted to escape some rogues and thought that Windclan territory was the best bet to get out alive. Now she’s stuck with a sullen mentor, three crazy new friends, and a ghost that only seems to know a single word.

Piketail doesn’t fit in very well, but he’s got his mother and his apprentice (and maybe his apprentice’s friends? Maybe?) so he’s fine, thank you very much. Besides, it’s not like he wants more friends- they’re more trouble than they’re worth half the time, anyway. Really.

Briarmask may not be coping with her sister’s death in a “super healthy way”, but by Starclan she is coping. There are mouths to feed and borders to patrol and kits to protect and maybe even conspiracies to deal with- who has time for things like “sleep” and “meals” and “fun” anyway?

It’s four cats against a hidden enemy, which is hard enough on its own, never mind their own lives falling apart.

Prologue: Oaths

THUNDERCLAN: Round one, start

    Softgaze creaked her way down the tunnels that lead to the Moonstone, moving as fast as she could for the sake of the eager apprentice trailing behind her. It had been seven moons since she had taken him under her wing, and she was confident that, should anything happen to her, Thunderclan would be safe in his paws- it was time for him to receive his full name. Her ears twitched as she heard little Splashpaw, the Riverclan apprentice, accidentally stumble into Snowpaw behind her; the tubby tom’s hushed apology echoed in the silence around them. Snowpaw chuckled, and she felt a glow of pride when he offered to help guide the other apprentice through the tunnels- this was only Splashpaw’s second time at the Moonstone, so he needed all the help he could get. Shaking off her musings, Softgaze lead the way into the chamber just as a moonbeam slipped through the hole in the ceiling, lighting up the Moonstone in a brilliant glow. Used to the sight, she made her way over to it, settling down in front of it before turning to her apprentice.

    He was still standing near the entrance as the others filtered in around him, seemingly entranced with the sight of the light illuminating the cave. He gave a start when he noticed her looking at him, and a fond smile flitted across her face as he scrambled over to meet her, his white fur ruffled with excitement and odd eyes gleaming in the light of the stone. Clearing her throat, she lifted her chin and began to speak.

    “I say these words before our glorious ancestors, and you, my esteemed comrades. I ask you to accept this apprentice into the full order of the healer. He has trained hard for the past seven moons to learn the full responsibilities of a medicine cat, and I find him fully capable of his duties. Snowpaw,” she continued, locking eyes with him, “do you swear to treat every cat, regardless of age or clan affiliation, to the best of your abilities?”

    “I do.”

    “Do you swear to reject the ways of the wicked, to uphold the teachings of Starclan, and to guide your clanmates in the way of the stars?”

    “I do.”

    “Finally,” she mewed, her tone deadly serious, “do you swear to protect the sick, the weak, and the vulnerable, even at the cost of your own life?”

    He swallowed hard before straightening, his voice firm as he replied, “This I do swear, on my own life and by the stars.” Softgaze nodded, a proud gleam in her eyes as she turned to the others gathered around them.

    “You have heard his oaths and you have heard my recommendation. Do you accept this apprentice into our ranks?” They answered with loud yowls of approval, the chamber ringing with the noise. Snowpaw trembled with joy as Softgaze faced him once again. “Then, with the approval of our fellows and our ancestors, I name you Snowdrift, and welcome you as a full medicine cat of Thunderclan.” He had to press himself to the floor so Softgaze could reach his head to lick it, but that didn’t matter. The sound of the others cheering his name swelled around the chamber as he licked her shoulder, Splashpaw nearly shouting himself hoarse. Softgaze chuckled at his enthusiasm, returning Snowdrift’s affectionate nuzzle with one of her own. She gave him an affectionate flick with her tail, purring as the cheers began to die down. “Now,” she announced, “let us commune with our ancestors.” She eased herself into a low crouch, touching her nose to the cool stone and saying a quiet prayer as sleep began to settle over her. Esteemed ancestors, take it easy on the kit-

 don’t do to him what you did to me.

WINDCLAN: Breakable

    Shalestar gulped, trying to hide her nervousness as she looked down at the clan, her clan, for the first time. She was exhausted after the events of the past few days. It seemed that everything that could have possibly gone wrong had. Falconstar and Poppypaw had been murdered-

    Nothing had ever felt heavier than Falconstar’s weight on her back. It was a struggle to carry his body down the slope into camp, but the shrieks that pierced the air as she shouldered her way through the gorse barrier were what almost made her legs buckle beneath her. Gorsestorm and Heathernose were wailing, the others that slipped out of the dens to see what was happening crying out in shock when they saw her. Somehow, the cacophony of sound grew even louder when Palesky entered behind her, poor little Poppypaw dangling from his jaws. Dipperpaw was frozen, plastered to the ground, but the look on Kestrelcall’s face as he saw his daughter’s body-

    And then neither had been present at her nine lives ceremony. The only help she had received, desperate as she was, was a vision of a kit that was more pale fluff than anything else- and no such kit existed in her clan. Shalestar shook herself, clearing her throat a little awkwardly as she looked down at a sea of pained and tired faces.

    “My friends-” her voice broke, and she cleared her throat again, harder this time. “My friends,” she continued, voice hoarse and low, “my family, my brothers and sisters of the stars. I stand with you in the face of this ultimate tragedy. Falconstar…” she trailed off. She locked eyes with Stagstep, then Silverpaw and Cinderpaw, who sat beside him. Drawing strength from their supportive gazes, she continued once more. “Falconstar was a great leader, and we all loved him as such, but more importantly we loved him as a father, a brother, a friend, and a fellow warrior. He had many great seasons before him, as did Poppypaw. The loss of her kindness and unshakeable dedication to this clan is in itself a great tragedy.” Shalestar bowed her head, voice quiet but growing louder with every word, “I swear to each and every one of you, on my own nine lives, and the very stars themselves, that their murderer will be found, and that justice will be done unto them.” She didn’t realize just exactly how loud she had gotten until she finished speaking, her flanks heaving as she looked out over her clanmates, searching for a reaction.

     There was a beat of silence before Silverpaw hoisted herself onto her hind legs, yowling “Shalestar!” as she did. The rest of the clan erupted into cries of their own until they were practically screaming her name to the clear blue sky, eyes burning with grief and defiance. When the cries died down, she continued.

    “As is my responsibility, I now name my successor: Palesky will be the new deputy of Windclan.” The news was expected, but the clan still greeted their new deputy with enthusiastic yowls- all, she noticed, except two. Gorsestorm was openly glowering at Palesky as he approached the Tall Rock, and Heathernose was making a very lame attempt at cheering. This matter is not one that will be settled soon, she thought darkly, leaping down to greet her deputy. Ceremony concluded, the clan began to disperse, some going out to hunt or patrol while others retreated to their dens. Stagstep approached with their kits, Palesky bidding her a quick farewell before padding off to the nursery. Encompassed by Stagstep’s soothing presence, Silverpaw’s cheerful chatter, and Cinderpaw’s quiet affection, Shalestar felt herself relax for the first time since she found Falconstar’s body. She tensed once again, however, as she caught Gorsestorm’s gaze over Cinderpaw’s shoulder. Her younger cousin gave her a look of poorly concealed contempt before slipping out of the gorse tunnel, Heathernose and Kiteclaw quickly following after him. As difficult as things had been over the past few days, Shalestar knew it would only get harder. Dear Starclan, she prayed,

      Don’t let me mess this up.

RIVERCLAN: Lazy river

              Grayfeather felt her joints creak as she rose out of her nest, slowly padding out of the warrior’s den and into the late Greenleaf sunshine. Already there was a cool touch to the air- Leaffall would soon be upon them. She took a deep breath, letting it sink in that that was the last time she would sleep in that nest, this the last day she would spend as a warrior. I never really thought I would make it this far, she thought in wonder, ambling towards the edge of camp where Coppertail was assigning patrols. I cannot believe this is my last day as a warrior.

             “Grayfeather, would you go with Piketail and Littlepaw on a hunting patrol? I know you probably have a few tips that could benefit the both of them.” She purred in amusement as her son twitched his ear in embarrassment, his apprentice smiling shyly at her from where he was half hidden behind his mentor. She had been so proud of Piketail when he had been named a mentor for the first time. He had been so somber and withdrawn since that… incident, when he was an apprentice, and she could see how having Littlepaw around was doing a great deal of good for him. She was content to follow them out of camp and to the river, watching as her son patiently answered the slew of questions Littlepaw was asking.

              “Has anyone ever told you how much you look like your mom?” Littlepaw asked brightly, before his face dropped and his tone became awkward. “I mean, your fur and eyes- I mean, eye? Are the same color, and…” He trailed off, almost cringing in embarrassment. Grayfeather was a little apprehensive, wondering how Piketail would react. She was a little surprised when he let out a snort of laughter.

              “It’s alright Littlepaw, I get what you meant. We do have the same coloring, although I’m afraid that’s about it.” Littlepaw brightened at this generous pass and gave his mentor a grateful nudge before running ahead, having spied the river. She took the moment alone to give her son a comforting lick on his cheek. Piketail’s face was riddled with scars- his left eye was missing, as was his ear, and his right ear was horribly tattered. The scars continued down his neck and chest, and more were scattered down his flanks and across his back. It gave him an almost ragged appearance, although he was meticulous in grooming his thick gray fur. Grayfeather remembered how sensitive he had been, when it became apparent that his wounds were severe enough to disfigure him, how vehemently he had been against a name change, how much it had hurt him when cats stared, or kits hid from him. It made her happy to see how well he handled his apprentice’s fumble- she could easily remember a time when such a comment would have made him withdraw into himself for days.

             “No need to worry, ma. I’m not as much of a shrinking violet these days.” He said with a small laugh. He seemed so comfortable, so sure of himself, that she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face.

              “I can see that!” She meowed, giving him an affectionate flick with her tail. “Now, I know you’re oh so grown up and mature now, but never forget that I’m here for you if you need anything.” He gave her an easy nod as they came to settle near Littlepaw on the riverbank.

              “Don’t worry, you’ll always be the first cat I go to, I promise- even if you are a crochety old elder!”

             Littlepaw burst into laughter as Grayfeather knocked her insolent son into the water for his cheek. Her grin grew impossibly wider as Piketail surfaced, sputtering and complaining. So much like his father, she thought, smile dimming a little. Dear Starclan, please,

 help him bear it when the truth comes out.

SHADOWCLAN: Useless

              Nettleclaw’s eyes gleamed in the artificial light as she slipped under the fence that surrounded the dump. Her sister crept a scant few paw steps ahead of her, slithering towards the shadows cast by a towering pile of trash. It was near moon high, meaning the dump should be empty of twolegs, but increasing their chances of running into other creatures. Rogues and rats were nothing to be trifled with, so she was careful to keep quiet as she followed Briarmask through the mounds of waste. They had just found a box of discarded chicken bones when the smell of twoleg came to them on the stale breeze.

              “What is a twoleg doing here so late?!” Briarmask hissed as she recoiled deeper into the shadows, Nettleclaw scuttling after her. The twoleg moved into view, weaving through the trash piles with a small bag clutched in its hairless paw. It dumped the bag just out of their line of sight before quickly turning and leaving the way it came. Just dumping some trash then, Nettleclaw thought, relieved that they hadn’t been seen. “Come on,” Briarmask said, heading for the chicken box again, “let’s see if there’s anything we can bring back so we can get out of here.” She moved to follow but stopped as she heard a faint noise. It was coming from the direction of the bag the twoleg dumped, and it almost sounded like… a cry?

    “Briar,” she hissed, “do you hear that?” Her sister stopped, ears pricked, and Nettleclaw knew she heard it when she saw Briarmask’s eyes widen.

    “That almost sounds like a kit!” They both immediately turned and darted in the direction of the sound. As they grew closer it became clear that it was a kit crying, or kits, to be more accurate. The small, shiny bag was moving when they came upon it. Nettleclaw quickly tore a small hole in the side, gasping at what she saw. Three tiny kits, maybe two weeks old, were crawling around in the bag, wailing pathetically in their hunger. “We need to get them back to camp now,” she said glancing at Briarmask, “they’re much too young to be without their mother.” She leaned forward, intent on grabbing one of the kits, when a chittering came from behind her, freezing her in place.

      Rats.

    She slowly turned, fur puffing up as she realized how many there were- at least six, huge and disgusting, their wicked teeth and beady eyes flashing in the harsh light. Briarmask hissed at her side, stepping up beside her with her claws unsheathed. In an instant, Nettleclaw came to a decision.

    “Go,” she said quietly, “use the bag, take the kits back to camp.”

    “No way Nettle, there’s too many- “

    “Exactly, they’ll get the kits, you have to go, get them safe and get help!” The rats were advancing and Briarmask was still hesitating. Nettleclaw took a bold step forward, saying over her shoulder, “I’m the better fighter, you’re the faster runner, just go!” The first rat lunged and she met it halfway with a screech. As she sent the rat sprawling, she was relieved to see Briarmask dart away past her, the bag clutched firmly in her mouth. Starclan guide her paws, she thought, turning her attention back to her opponents. The rat got back up, chittering angrily, and she felt terror creep down her spine as she saw even more creeping out of the shadows. And help me win this.

 .

 .

 .

    It felt like moons later when she finally heard the thrumming of many paw steps. She coughed painfully, feeling blood trickle out of her mouth as she did. She lay surrounded by the bodies of her slain enemies, eight in total, but she had suffered for it- there wasn’t a part of her that didn’t burn or sting. I didn’t think I was going to go out like this, she thought numbly, feeling weaker with each passing moment.

    “Nettleclaw!” Ah, there she is. Briarmask skidded to a stop next to her, her fear scent almost rank in Nettleclaw’s nose. “No, no no no, I shouldn’t have left why did you make me leave-“ Nettleclaw sighed as Briarmask pressed her nose into her bloody neck.

    “Thank Starclan you did, or those rats would have shredded you too.” It was getting harder to breathe. “The kits, are they ok?” Her sister’s eyes were shining with unshed tears as she nodded.

    “They’re fine, Pinenose is taking care of them.” Relief washed over Nettleclaw like a wave, and she finally let herself relax, finally started to let go.

    “Good, I’m glad I’m not dying for nothing.” Ignoring Briarmask’s protests, she continued, “I need you to promise me you’ll always take care of them, Briar. Don’t let my death be meaningless- that’s what I’ve always been afraid of, you know? I never wanted to be useless.” Her thoughts were growing fuzzy and dim, words slurring, and she was running out of breath to speak with. “Promise me.”

    “You’ve never been useless Nettle, and you definitely aren’t useless now.” Briarmask said thickly, tears now streaming freely down her cheeks. “I promise you, I’ll keep them safe, I’ll guard them with my life.”

    “You always were copying me, weren’t you?” Nettleclaw chuckled, before she was seized by a coughing fit. It was impossible to ignore the encroaching darkness, impossible to ignore that she couldn’t breathe anymore. Briarmask’s sobs grew faint in her ears, and as she closed her eyes for the final time, she couldn’t help but smile. Starclan guide me home, and please,

      keep them safe.

Next

[arcanefox207]

The Warden.

GameWarden!Joel Miller x F!Reader Explicit 18+ MDNI | 3.8k WC | AO3

Summary: Your hike into the woods doesn’t go as planned when a depraved Game Warden catches you breaking the rules.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Power imbalance. DUBCON (could be considered NONCON). Reader is into it but she still doesn't have a choice. Reader is smaller than Joel and has hair he can grab. Explicit smut. Oral (male receiving). Fingering. Violence. Manipulation. Unprotected P in V. Cum talk. Creampies. Dark!Joel.

Notes: Please read the warnings. HUGE thanks to @joelmillerisapunk for beta'ing (love you, Odi!) Also FYI Game Wardens (also sometimes known as conservation / wildlife / DNR officer) can have broader authority than police and can even search your person / property without a warrant, are expert marksmen and usually work alone.

M A S T E R L I S T | A O 3 | N O T I F S

You saw the sign and ignored it, like you always did, as you walked down your favorite hiking trail. The one that few people knew about. The trail that was always peaceful and quiet and you rarely met another soul. Your hidden secret that you loved to escape to. The one that had been marked as “Trail Closed” for months now for reasons you could never quite figure out.  

As the forest thinned you finally reached the majestic bounty you sought. A quaint pond, nestled in the pines. The waters edge pebbled with rocks and ferns. Water lilies sparsely decorated the surface. What once was a sprawling picnic destination was now overgrown. Serene and abandoned to nature.  

You knelt down and ran your hands over the stones, picking up and admiring their unique beauty of the ones that caught your eye.

You were so preoccupied taking in the comforts of the world around you that you never heard him. Never even considered there were eyes on you, watching you from behind some overgrowth.

“Excuse me, miss,” his voice startles you as you stand quickly and turn around. “You’re in violation of State Park rules and regulations.”

“Huh?” Your words come out sounding dumb and caught off guard. You quickly scan for the source of the voice and see some movement in the bushes, revealing a man. 

He walks towards you, emerging from his hiding spot. A tall and broad man, head to toe in the standard olive green uniform that the wardens wore. A tactical belt and vest and a scoped rifle slung on his back. His toned physique mesmerizes you with each step forward.    

“It’s my sworn duty to enforce the law and enact justice as I see fit.” His words were robotic and rehearsed. 

As he got closer you could see he was an older man and incredibly handsome with some greys in his beard along his jawline. His hair was shorter with wavy curls, pushed back neatly with some silver catching in the sunlight. His skin weathered by the sun. His aquiline nose made his face look even more intense and powerful, matching his words. Broody and serious. This was a man who was in control.

“And you’re trespassing,” he lowers his voice, “in my territory.” 

You were trespassing. He wasn’t wrong. You felt your body flush with a wave of panic, with a hint of arousal crawling somewhere deep inside you. Lurking and waiting with intrigue and fear.  

“Area’s posted.” he says as he now stands in front of you. You are at a loss for words, caught doing what you thought was harmless.

He senses your panic and it rallies him to toy with you. 

“This is a protected wildlife conservation that you’re messin’ with, sweetheart.” He pauses and changes his tone to intimidate you as he leans in close. “And you see, I don’t like that.” 

You feel your heart race. Were you actually getting in trouble for taking an innocent hike in the woods?

“You know who I am?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest while he waits for you to speak. His veiny, chiseled forearms distract you. He looks so scrappy and dangerous. 

“The Game Warden?” You hesitate.

“That's right.” he nods with a cunning smirk. “Name’s Joel, but you’re gonna call me Sir.” He enunciates it firmly.

You feel your body overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. You were scared but also felt a pulsing go through you when he spoke. You didn’t want him to be upset with you. Everything about him was screaming: dangerous, do not piss off.  

“I’m sorry about trespassing. I didn’t know… Sir.” You added his title for good measure.

But you did know. You knew every time you walked past the sign at the entrance telling you not to. Bullshit was not going to fly here and only fueled him more. 

“Lying to an officer too?” He shakes his head as it hangs low. He circles you with intimidation, looking you up and down. Lecturing you with silence and waiting for your reparations to be determined.  

You can’t fight off that lukewarm feeling inside you that grows warmer. Slowly it gnaws away at your resolve. Seeing him with the tactical vest on that snuggly accented his chest and left his belly exposed with nothing but his green shirt covering it. The only spot that was vulnerable and soft. The rest of his body was strong, protected by his excessive gear, lean muscles and mean looks.   

You see his name badge embroidered with ‘MILLER’ and accidentally whisper his name out loud like it's a question. Wondering who this man is and what his intentions are. In the peaceful calm of the woods in the middle of nowhere, your whisper may have well been a shout.

“Officer Miller.” He corrects with authority in his tone as he leans over you. “And I’m gonna have to discipline that mouth of yours.”

You’ve never been in trouble with the law before, and certainly never had a run in with a Game Warden. You knew they were essentially lone wilderness cops with a god complex and few restrictions. Still, you knew this was far from acceptable behavior. Everything about how he was acting was wrong. You open your mouth to protest, but hesitate on his threats. He relishes in how you work it out in your head that talking back isn’t going to get you out of this. You can only bite your tongue so long.

“I’ll report you.” You threaten back, acting like you have some moral upper hand to hang over him. 

“Go ahead. Ain’t nothing you can do about your situation right now, sugar plum.” He scoffs. “Not to mention, s’your word against mine.” He stops circling and leans into your ear as his southern drawl makes the words sound smooth and buttery. Hot and melting on his breath as they drip out of his mouth. 

“Wanna take a guess who wins?” He says deviously and you can feel his patchy beard scrape against your jaw as he pulls away. A shiver pulses through you, right down to your pussy. Beating to his unsought touch. 

Why is this turning you on so much?

“You see darlin’, I’ve been watching you for a long, long time.” He circles again. “And you keep breaking the rules.”

Your heart races. This was getting serious. The realization hits that he can do whatever he wants and get away with it, and that is exactly his intention.

“On your knees, and hands where I can see ‘em.” he barks. 

You obey, folding under his commands. Hoping your obedience would lessen the blow. 

You drop down gently unsure of what exactly he was playing at, treating you like a violent criminal. You stretch your arms out to your sides with your palms up in submission. He stops just in front of you, scooching down so he is eye level. A tiny grunt as his knees bend. Tobacco and leather scents accompany him. 

“I’ll let you off with a warning… if you promise me you won’t be doing it again.” He offers. Sweet words coming out slow and sticky like honey.  

“I won’t. I promise. It won’t happen again.” You quickly plead. Foolishly hopeful this was it. Ignoring the conditional implication of his terms.   

He stands back up with his arms crossed before raking one of his hands through his hair, thinking. He wasn’t buying what you were selling. 

He paces in front of you. The obscene bulge in his pants was impossible not to notice as he parades it past your sightline. Back and forth, back and forth. He was packing more than just a firearm. 

He stops directly in front of you so your eyes are mere inches from it. You look all the way down to his feet in an attempt to hide the red that flushes your face. Trying to dismiss your own arousal that was getting louder and wetter. 

He reaches down to your chin and cranes your neck up to look at him with an urgency. 

“Gonna’ need some convincing, sugar plum.”

Fuck...

He releases you and walks to the nearby weathered picnic table and lays his rifle down. He unsnaps his utility belt that was strapped over his waist and leg and tosses it along with his handgun in tow. It made his broad shoulders look even wider with his waist unhindered by the bulky gear.

The uppercase “WARDEN” embroidered on the back of his green tactical vest serves to remind you that he is an officer of the law. It taunts you as he takes his sweet time laying out his things neatly on the table while you wait with anticipation for whatever was happening next.  

As he turns to walk back towards you, snatched in his vest, he tries to conceal the smirk pulling up from the corner of his mouth. You hate how good he looked, as if it could ever excuse how disgusting he was behaving.  

He stands coolly just a foot in front of you and unbuckles the modest leather belt. The metal clasps clank loudly as he lets it hang down and unzips. He clocks your reaction as he pulls up his shirt enough to show his messy thatch of hair trailing down his lower belly.   

He can’t be serious… 

Reaching a hand inside his boxers he pulls them down slowly as his cock peeks out. Big and fat and leaking. Aching to be touched. 

He is serious.

His eyes are focused intently on yours, watching them widen as you take in his cock. It's just in front of your nose as you look up and sit back on your haunches.

“Go on,” he growls and lowers his voice. “Convince me.”

He reaches his hand around his cock and pumps it. The broad head glistening in his precum as he drags his hand down his shaft. You wonder how long he had been watching you and if he had been stroking himself before he approached you. Maybe this interrogation was all foreplay for him. In fact, you were certain it was.   

The hot feeling surging in your core surprises you. You were actually turned on by this pig. Still, you knew this was beyond fucked up. You hesitate with what to do next, conflicted by his abuse of power and the inappropriate way your body was betraying you.     

“You gonna disobey a warden?” He threatens, getting impatient. 

You wonder what if you refused? What if you didn’t play his game? What would he actually do? It still didn’t feel like there was an option other than what was right in front of you, demanding your obedience. 

This was only ending one way. His way. 

“No, sir.” You swallow and fight back the tears. You place your palms and claw your fingers into his thighs as you sit up straight. You start to open your mouth and look up at him with glossy eyes. Conceding to him. 

You catch that spark of darkness igniting in his eyes. Burning hot and formidable as it spreads through him. Your misfortune was making him harder.

He parts your mouth open with the tip resting on your bottom lip. He teases it in and out, letting you feel the weight as the ridge catches on your lip. 

God he was big.

“Give it a kiss first and be real polite.” 

You close your lips over the tip and appease him with your gentle touch. Polite even. You suckle it delicately, drawing out beads of saltiness as it drips onto your taste buds. You can’t stop your natural impulse to flick his slit with your tongue and it makes him stiffen even more, twitching in response.

“Good girl.” he praises as he tangles his free hand in your hair. You wince as his firm grip pulls you closer to him. He pushes into your mouth. Inch by inch. The hand on his cock held it steady until you were adjusted to his size. He lets go and slides his hand above your nape, letting you take the full weight of his cock as you hollow your cheeks.

He was so thick. 

You decide to give him something he wants without asking, attempting to entice him to be kinder. His roughness was starting to hurt when he pulled at your hair and dug into your skin. Relaxing your mouth he pushed further in without your protest. Nestled tight in your warm and wet paradise. You notice his urgency shift.  

“Nice and slow. No need to rush.” He commands as you take him deeper. This order sounds more like it's for himself so he doesn’t cum too early. You can feel how close he is. He was ready to burst the moment you dropped to your knees. 

You gag as the head hits the back of your throat.   

“Oh, you sound pretty like that.” He moans as he closes his eyes and leans his head back. “Choking on my cock.” He makes a guttural sound as he nudges his cock even deeper into your throat. He was impossibly large as he fights to stuff you full.  

“Hold still.” He fucks into your mouth. Harder. Harder. Harder. Pulling your hair too tight and pushing your head too far onto him as he bucked into you.

With tears in your eyes making your nose run you can hardly breathe. Gasping and choking  and a cock stuffed in your mouth, bruising your throat with each plunge.

He snarls as he looks down to you, locking eyes. Blown out. Feral. Dark and desperate like he was giving in to his wildest, forbidden desires with no regard for you. It was a selfish need he was taking for himself and only himself. You were nothing. A wet hole for his cock to fuck.  

He was coming undone. His moaning and panting echoing across the serene pondscape and tainting your safe escape forever. Even that memory he was taking from you. 

You were waiting for it. Bracing for his hot spend to pour into you but instead he slowed. Thrusting deep into you with a grunt before dragging out his wet, dripping cock. He winced as it popped out of your mouth and you gasped for air.

This sick fuck was edging himself. 

He wanted more. Needed more. 

“Get up.” His haggard, breathy words bite at you.

He lifts you up by your hair. You quickly comply to relieve the pressure on your scalp as you stumble to your feet. A whine escapes you as he lets go roughly. 

“Gonna make sure you learn your lesson today.” He gestures to the picnic table just a few steps away and you shamefully go to it. 

He pushes you to lean over the bench and bends you in an ‘L’ shape. You press your arms against the seat to hold yourself up. He drags his hand down your back and around to your hips, admiring your delicate form laid out before him. He wanted to lose himself inside you.

He drags a hand between your legs and feels your cunt hot and wet against your shorts. He lets out a growl as his fingers get soaked along your seam. 

You hate how good it feels to have him touch you where you ache for friction.

“Mmm…” he groaned as he breathed in your arousal on his fingertips. “Knew you wanted this cock inside you.” He ruts his hardness against your ass. 

He slides his hands over your back. Over your hips. Down the sides of your legs until he stops abruptly. Fingering at something jagged in your pocket. Something you forgot was there. 

“What's this?” 

Your heart stops. You can tell from his tone that he knew exactly what it was.

He slips his hand in your pocket and pulls out two shiny stones you had collected from the waters edge.

Fuck.   

“Caught stealing from the cookie jar.” He clicks his tongue to scold you. He was stacking his case with further evidence to hang over your head.

“Oh, Darlin.” He fakes a sympathetic tone. “You’re in big trouble now.”

It was then you realized he knew all along. He was watching your every move. He was waiting for the right moment to manipulate you to his will. 

“Bad girl. Larceny is gonna cost you more than just an apology.” He drops the rocks carelessly and grabs your waistband, pulling your shorts and panties down to your ankles in one motion. You gasp as he makes you step out of them as he pushes you forward so your knees are on the bench seat. You catch yourself on the edge of the table. Half naked, exposed and totally fucked. 

“Spread 'em nice and wide for me.” He knocks your legs apart with his knee as he stands behind you, his cock notched against your entrance and it sparks an adrenaline surge inside you when you feel his tip press into you. 

“Please!” You beg him. “Please stop. I’m not letting you fuck me!” You spit out with an attitude. This was a line too far. A line he was intentionally pushing to see how far he could go before you fought back. 

Unsurprising to you, he liked playing with fire.  

He reaches out and grabs your neck with his wide grip, roughly pinning you prone against the table so you can’t move. He leans over, and hovers low to your ear as his shaft drags against your seam. 

“Ain’t making you do nothing, sugar plum.” He pauses and breathes in the sweet scent of your shampoo as he prods you gently with his nose. Tantric and hungry with his movements. 

“I can take you now and then we’ll be done with it, or I can take you in. S’your choice.” He loosens up his grip on your neck and sits back slightly. He feels the way you tremble under his touch, and the way your cunt throbs against his heat still pressing against it.

You feel it too. Something you can’t explain. A primal feeling of desire. Surrendering to your most basic human needs. That having him inside you might not be so bad. A rationalizing in your brain that you did wrong after all. It’s only sex. 

Only sex. You’ve certainly done worse with lesser men under the guise of alcohol. 

“I can promise you, they won’t be nearly this forgivin’ at the state prison.” He traces his finger down your spine, being delicate and gentle. Tracing until his finger runs into his belly pushed flush against you. He leans back and grabs his cock. Painfully hard and still soaked from earlier. He presses the head right against your swollen clit and rubs it against you. 

You let out a moan and he knows he has you.  

“Tell me you don’t want this. That you don’t want to cum all over my cock.” He strokes your clit with his head again and again. Knocking at your door and waiting for you to answer. 

“I’ll make it real good for you, sugar plum.” Your clit pulses on his cock. Needy and hedonic. Forsaking any restraint you have left to say no.

You take a deep breath and curse under your breath, curling your fingers around the edge of the table as you sit up and face forward.

“Get on with it.” You concede. 

He smiles wickedly. He was always going to get what he wanted in the end.

With you still sitting on your knees he locks his body against yours, his feet planted firmly on the ground. He pulls you up so your back is flush with his chest and wraps a hand around the front of you, rubbing and pinching at your clit with his rough fingers and dipping them into your hole. Spreading your slick. Stretching you open as he scissors his fingers.    

His body against yours was so much bigger. Broad and strong. You were the mouse and he was the lion about to pounce. His heat piercing through your skin. You felt him line up at your entrance, nudging you with his tip. 

There is no more patience or preparation. He needs to fuck you now. Needs to have that friction choking his cock that has been rock solid for too long. Without warning he thrusts into you again and again and again. Each time a little deeper and harder. His fat head catching on all your ridges as your pussy grabbed onto him.

It felt so fucking good and you hate it. You hate him.  

He stretches you more than you’ve ever felt before. The initial pain subsides as he rubs your clit fiercely with his fingers. The pleasure inside you builds. He kept his word that he would make it real good for you.  

He puts his leg up on the bench for leverage and bottoms out inside you with a grunt as he pulls you down on his cock. Fucking up into you and impaling you with his cock.   

Your moans run away from you, loudly filling the air with obscenities. You feel your climax building up inside you. You’ve never been fucked so hard in your life and you are soaking him. You know he won’t last much longer.

“Please..” you beg him between moans. 

“Please what?” he snarls as he fucks you harder, his cock ready to spill. 

“Please... Sir. Pull out,” you beg him.

He laughs at your ridiculous request and ignores you, wrapping his arms around you to pull you hard against his body. One hand wrapped around and splayed over your belly and the other curled around your breasts and pushing on the front of your throat. He had you held so tightly to him there was no way you could stop him. 

Your climax tears through you. 

“Carry in… Carry out.” He recites the most basic of park rules between grunts while you brace for it. “Leave nothing behind.”

He releases into you. His hot cum coating your deepest walls as he empties into your cunt with the loudest orgasm. He pushes you down prone and fucks it deep inside you before he starts to soften, making sure you know he was deliberately filling you up with his seed.

He collapses on you and you breathe together for a moment. He leaves an unexpected kiss on your shoulder and another on your neck, silently thanking you for letting him use your body. 

“Next time pay attention to the game cams, sugar plum.” he nods up at a nearby tree and he gives a side smile. Mocking your mistake. 

He withdraws his cock from you and lets you fall forward, his cum already running down your legs. He eyes your mess with a smirk, pleased with his conquest. 

“I’m always watching.” He says with a wink.

Tagging some cool people that I love very much and fellow Joel Hole comrades (please note if it’s too dark for your taste it’s totally ok to skip!)

@magpiepills @for-a-longlongtime @milla-frenchy @itwasntimethatdidit40 @youandmeand5bucks

@toxicanonymity @wethairjoel @evolnoomym @almostfoxglove @beardedjoel

@aurorawritestoescape @hellishjoel @lotusbxtch @murder-wife @joelstummy

@pearlessance @pedropeach @tonysopranosrobe @sawymredfox @macfrog

@slimybeth69 @whocaresstillthelouvre @joelsdagger @baronessvonglitter @covetyou

@chronically-ghosted @skbeaumont @yourcoolauntie @yopossum @beefrobeefcal

@sp00kymulderr @moonlitbirdie @wheresarizona @syd-djarin @punkshort

@sin-djarin @guiltyasdave @strang3lov3 @frannyzooey @tightjeansjavi

@cavillscurls @gasolinerainbowpuddles @pedgito @survivingandenduring

@ozarkthedog @mountainsandmayhem @schnarfer @pedrospatch @penvisions

[irisintheafterglow]

heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: sabrina carpenter - "please please please"

summary: a school assignment leads you to team bofurin. a chance meeting in the cafe leads you to umemiya. where else will furin high lead you over the course of 5 days?

wc: 7.5k (lord have mercy)

cw/tags: umemiya hajime x gn journalist!reader, strangers to lovers, swearing/explicit language, brief canon-typical violence, blood, and peril, angst/fluff and injury hurt/comfort, ume's a gentleman but that gets tested lol

note: friends this is the longest thing i have ever posted here and i was really debating not posting it because i didn't like how it was turning out, but then i just pushed through the rest of it...and it became 7 thousand words.....ANYWAY really hope you enjoy !

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <33

— Day 1 of 5: “Please, please, please // Don’t prove I’m right” 

A glass bottle shatters on the sidewalk below you, shadowy figures scattering into dark alleyways like rats. You grimace at their sadistic laughter and silently thank your host for not living on the ground-level. The sound of a shaking spray paint can echoes in the empty street and you watch a messy hot pink insignia appear as it's drawn on a shop window. Damn. This was going to be a long five days. 

“Wait, you want me to do what?” 

“You’ll be staying with a high school friend of mine who owns a store in the area,” your journalism teacher continues, quickly scanning over a student’s document and grading it without blinking. She swipes to the next document, mechanically repeating the same process of grading it and moving on. She doesn’t stop to see the shock on your face.

“Ma’am, I don’t know–”

“You’ll be fine, just stick to the populated areas and don’t go out at night. If you want to, you could even befriend some of those Furin kids,” she says as she absentmindedly clicks away at her keyboard. “It’ll be good for you to report on something other than the mathletes team, for once.” At least the mathletes are safe, you think to yourself. A little awkward, but nowhere near the delinquents at Furin.

“Hold on, may I ask why I’m the one doing this?” You wring your hands nervously, glancing at the afternoon sun sinking outside the classroom window. “I don’t understand why you’re asking me–” 

“You want the full-ride scholarship, don’t you?” Her eyes are beady through the thin rims of her glasses. You fight the urge to shrink away from her piercing gaze, one that you never become accustomed to no matter how many times you’re subject to it. “Trust me when I tell you that the judges will not care how many times the mathletes lost, no matter how eloquently you write about it.” You let your skepticism show on your face. 

“But they’ll care about a bunch of boys that get into fights every day?” If she cares about your deadpanned comment, she doesn’t acknowledge it. 

“My friend told me once or twice that there’s more to those Furin boys than meets the eye,” she says before turning back to her screen. Your confusion is still obvious, but the only help your teacher gives you is an indifferent shrug. “It’s up to you. But if you want a competitive edge, you need to take more risks.” You exhale, weighing your options and ultimately deciding that your career was more important. 

“When do I start?” 

You begin your morning early on your first day in Makochi. After leaving your host’s apartment and staring at the graffiti-covered high school that was drowning in plant overgrowth, you abruptly turned on your heel and decided to observe the people on the busiest street. You had no interest in exploring Furin High School itself, only the effects of crime and constant fighting on the uninvolved citizens. You catch a group of boys wearing black jackets heading in the same direction as you and duck into the nearest cafe, hoping to wait them out and watch how they interact with the town. Across the street, the owners of the shop that was vandalized with the pink insignia scrub the paint from the glass. 

“Good morning.” A girl with short brown hair greets you behind the counter, gesturing for you to take a seat on one of the stools. You thank her and set your notebook down next to you, flipping through the menu when you feel her staring at you. “Are you new here?” 

“I’m in town for a few days,” you reply. Her demeanor is friendlier than you would expect from an area that sees so much violence. “I’m from one of the neighboring high schools.” The girl nods, placing a cup of water in front of you, along with a set of chopsticks. 

“Are you visiting family? We don’t get many visitors here, so I’m just wondering what a new face is doing in town,” she says, nodding when you point at the menu item you want for breakfast. 

“No family here; I’m actually studying the town for an assignment. My teacher thinks that if I write about this town, it’ll help me get a scholarship.” Her mouth opens in an ah of understanding and she ducks into the refrigerator to retrieve some eggs. An idea pops into your brain and you open your notebook. “While I’m here, do you mind if I ask you a few questions about Furin High?”

“Sure. Bofurin members eat here all the time.” Your eyebrows draw together and, unlike your journalism teacher, she understands and addresses your lack of knowledge. “Bofurin is the team that protects this town. It’s made up entirely of students at Furin High School. Actually, it’s a little funny that you stopped into here today, of all places, since–” 

“Kotoha!” The door flies open and the same group of boys that were behind you on the sidewalk corral into the cafe, the space suddenly too small for the number of people present. The source of the voice, a tall guy with bright white hair and coattails attached to his jacket, approaches the girl behind the counter with a blinding smile. “Did you miss me?” 

“No,” Kotoha deadpans, sending you a sympathetic look as more boys file into the cafe. “I was gonna say that you chose the one day Umemiya treats all his underclassmen to breakfast. Umemiya’s the leader, the tall idiot I was just talking to.” You grimace and begin to jot down what little information you’d learned about Furin, covering the side of your face with your hand and hoping none of the students question why you were there. It’s wishful thinking, unfortunately. 

“Oi.” You’re snapped from your brainstorming daze by a boy whose hair and eyes were two different colors. He was watching you write like you were plotting how to demolish the high school and you curse your luck for the millionth time that you picked the one cafe the Bofurin team frequented. “Who are you and why are you here?”

“Sakura, you can’t just say that to strangers. Tell them you’re sorry,” Kotoha, the girl behind the counter, chides. The boy’s cheeks turn pink and he turns away, muttering what sounds like a half-assed apology to you. “Don’t mind him,” she says to you with a warm smile. “He’s terrible around new people.” Sakura’s face twists into indignation. 

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are. You got into a fight on your first day here, and school hadn’t even started yet,” points out another student with blonde hair sitting next to a boy wearing dangling earrings and an eyepatch. You’re quick to write down anything and everything you were hearing, picking up pieces of conversation from the tables around you. “Hey, what are you writing?” The question doesn’t come off as accusatory, but you shut your notebook anyways and guard it like a treasure chest. 

“It’s nothing. Just homework,” you force out. 

“Homework,” the boy with the eyepatch echoes. “So, you live around here?”

“They go to a neighboring highschool,” Kotoha explains before you have the chance to speak. “They’re actually here to study Bofurin.” All three boys turn to you expectantly, as if you were going to interview them on the spot. 

“I’m just here to observe,” you say quickly, rubbing the back of your neck. “I’m not here to interfere or get in your way or anything.” 

“Who said you would be getting in the way? I’m sure Umemiya wouldn’t mind–” 

“I wouldn’t mind what?” You jump, the same guy that called Kotoha’s name upon entering the cafe appearing like a ghost between you and the boys you were conversing with. “Have you three ordered yet? You need to eat! We have a big day today,” the person you assume is Umemiya instructs the boys. To your surprise, they’re quick to nod their assent and place their orders. “Good. Now, what was it I wasn’t going to mind?” 

“There’s someone here to study us,” the half-and-half haired kid mutters, pointing in your direction. Like before, the two other students scold him for his brashness. 

“Don’t say it like that, Sakura.” 

“It makes it sound like we’re animals in a documentary.” 

“Study us?” Umemiya ignores them and turns to you with a curious look. “Why?” Your face heats and you hastily close your notebook again, hoping that Kotoha would be done with your food soon so you could vacate the cafe and avoid it for the rest of your stay. 

“It’s for an assignment for school,” you reply hesitantly. 

“You don’t need to be so humble,” Kotoha calls over her shoulder from the stove. “You can tell them it’s for a scholarship.” The three boys next to Umemiya gape at you in awe, but you can’t help feeling the slightest bit embarrassed that you drew so much attention to yourself on your first day in town. You didn’t know much about the Furin boys except for their reputation as fighters, and you expected Umemiya to turn you away and kick you out on the spot. 

“I’ll be out of town in a few days, so you don’t need to–”

“You can shadow us.” What the hell did he just say? You blink at him, unsure if you hallucinated his words or if he actually said them. Umemiya’s face suddenly turns a shade redder and he turns to his three underclassmen, whispering uneasily, “That is the term for it, right?”

“I think so,” the blonde one whispers back. “Suo, you’re better with words. What does it–”

“You want them to follow you around and see how you guys work,” Kotoha says as she brings you your meal in a to-go container. “That’s what ‘shadowing’ means.” Umemiya thanks her with a thumbs-up before turning back to you. 

“What she said. Come with us as we go through our daily routines so you really understand what we do.” You start to stutter out a list of fake reasons why you couldn’t, something along the lines of getting in their way and needing to take a fish to the veterinarian. Umemiya doesn’t budge and sees through your nerves like glass. “You won’t be inconveniencing us at all, I promise. If anything, it’ll be good for more people to have an understanding of Bofurin.” 

“Yeah. If you just watch us from the outside, your writing’s not gonna be any good,” Sakura says bluntly. The two boys next to him flinch and cover their faces. 

“You should stop saying things like that, Sakura,” the boy with the eye-patch warns. 

“Like I said,” Kotoha mumbles in passing. “Don’t pay him any mind. He’s just like that.”

“So, what do you say?” Umemiya grins at you in a way that unwillingly makes your heart rate increase and, before your mind knows it, you’re nodding in agreement and he settles on the stool next to you. “Great! Before we start, do you mind if I ask you about yourself?”

—  Day 2 of 5: “I know I have good judgment // I know I have good taste”

It’s 7:00 am when Umemiya appears outside your door. 

“Good morning! Did you sleep well? I know yesterday was a lot, so hopefully we didn’t scare you too badly.” You rub your eyes and manage to give him a sleepy ‘good morning,’ trying to shake off the exhaustion after running around the previous day with Bofurin. The moon was hanging high by the time Umemiya dropped you off at your host’s apartment and you thought you were hearing things when he said he’d be back in the morning to pick you up. “We’re not gonna have time to stop by the cafe, so I picked up something for you to eat.” You open the small paper bag he hands you to find a pastry wrapped in a napkin, slightly squashed from the walk. “Do you have everything?” 

“Yes, I do. This is really nice of you Umemiya,” you say as you fall into step next to him. He shrugs and waves you off, but you catch the self-confident upturn at the corner of his mouth. Why you were staring at his mouth in the first place could not be waterboarded out of you. 

“Don’t mention it. What’d you think of yesterday? Oh, wait. Let me take this from you so you can eat.” Before you can stop him, he reaches over and carefully slides the strap of your bag from your shoulder and hoists it onto his. Surprised, you thank him again, something that you found yourself doing a lot since you met him. It wasn’t like you were trying to overstate your gratitude, Umemiya just kept doing things for you; on your first day, he did everything from crouching down to tie your shoe to herding you toward the side of the sidewalk, away from the busy street. So far, Bofurin was nothing like you’d previously imagined. 

“There’s a lot more structure in place than I thought there would be,” you answer, taking a few bites of the pastry. After Umemiya gave you a proper introduction to first-year class captain (and your self-proclaimed #1 skeptic) Sakura, he also introduced you to Suo and Nirei, the two boys that were with him. The rest of your first day was a flurry of meetings and broadcast announcements from the top of the school, mixed with an unexpected amount of pot transplanting on the roof. “I didn’t realize there would be such a clear hierarchy of power…or a community garden.”

“You thought we were just a bunch of kids who got into fights every day?”

“Yes–wait, no!” Your face burns while you backtrack and try to explain yourself. Umemiya doesn’t hear it and simply chuckles at your slip. “Okay, fine. Yes, I did think you were a bunch of kids that got into fights every day. But,” you pause, taking a look at the pastry in your hand. “There’s obviously more I need to learn.” 

“That’s alright,” Umemiya beams. The sun starts to peek over the roofs of the little stores and houses, painting Furin High golden as you approach. “That's why I’m here. Oh, and before I forget, give me your phone.” You watch as he dials his contact information in, even taking a picture of himself for the contact photo. “What do you think?” 

“Wow, you look great. Thanks for doing that for me.”

“Of course. Now you have a direct line to me in case you ever need anything!” He has a cute smile, speaks an unprompted voice in your head that you’re quick to silence. You’re about to tease him about being so friendly with strangers when you catch sight of a smear of hot pink running across the bricks beside you. Umemiya’s smile fades as you walk past the metal garage door of a food vendor, it too becoming the victim of the same pink marking you saw on your first night. 

“That’s the second one I’ve seen now.” His eyes are narrowed when you turn to him. He’s not focusing on what you’re saying; you can tell by the way the muscle in his jaw clenches that he’s running analyses like a supercomputer. “Do you have any idea who’s doing this?”

“There hasn’t been word of a pink team in ages, let alone one that has the audacity to come on Bofurin territory and claim it,” he says quietly.  

“They’re trying to take it from you?”

“Keyword ‘trying.’ Doesn’t mean they’ll be successful.” The darkness of his expression disappears in a blink and you’re met with a self-assured grin. “Ah, well don’t worry about it. We handle this kind of stuff all the time,” he reassures you, readjusting your bag over his shoulder and starting again down the sidewalk.  

“How often do you deal with stuff like this?” 

“Weekly, probably,” he shrugs and you make a mental reminder to write it in your notebook. 

“Are people just looking for a fight because you’re the strongest team, or is it something else?” Your mind momentarily brings you back to sitting across from the mathletes team in the school library, giving them food for thought and jotting down their responses. It was a little different, asking questions of Umemiya, but the familiar feeling of seeking answers is comforting muscle memory. 

“I don’t have a concrete answer for you, honestly,” he admits. “But, my theory is that people don’t like what we do here. We protect the town and discourage people from doing unethical things. People simply don’t like being told what they can’t do.” You nod, trying your best to remember everything he’s saying. It made sense why smaller teams would want to take down the most powerful team in the area, but the morality side and restricting the actions of others because they harm the townspeople was something you didn’t expect to also play into the situation. “Are you going to interview any other teams here?” You shake your head.

“I wasn’t planning on it. The answers that you’re giving me now are more than I could have hoped for,” you answer and you catch his satisfied smirk out of the corner of your eye. “Do you think I should study other teams?” 

“You don’t need to. You fit in better with us, anyway.” 

— Day 3 of 5: “Whatever devil’s inside you // Don’t let him out tonight”

Reports of the hot pink marking become more frequent the longer you stay with Bofurin, both for sightings on shop windows and shadows sneaking around alleyways just out of patroller’s lines of sight. The more teams Umemiya sent out to paint over the vandalism, the more sightings increased. To you, it was an indicator of growing tensions between Bofurin and surrounding, envious teams. 

To Umemiya, it was Wednesday. 

“We have a collaborative meeting with another team, Shishitoren, today,” he informs you on the walk from your host’s apartment to the school, your bag swinging weightlessly on his shoulder. “I’d like for you to join us, but it’s ultimately up to you.” 

“Do you have a history with them?” The team leader’s eyes space out and he blinks once, then twice, before coming back to the present. 

“Yeah…you could say that,” he chuckles. “Just don’t ask Sakura about his first one-on-one with them. He gets defensive.” You stifle a grin.

“Oh, did he lose?”

“He won, actually,” Umemiya corrects, equally as amused as you, “Which is the part he gets mad about, so you should probably steer clear of the subject all together.” You nod, interviewing Sakura being nowhere in your plans. “Suo and Nirei will be able to give you all the info you need, though,” he says quickly, mistaking your silence for discontent. “And of course, you could always ask me too.” He smiles at you and something in your brain short-circuits. 

Ever the professional, you try not to think about how nice Umemiya’s been to you when you arrive at the Ori, headquarters of Shishitoren. Steering away from the run-down screening room, you and Umemiya’s team climb up to the roof, where a group of guys wearing orange baseball jackets are waiting. 

“What took you so long? Breakfast is getting cold!” The team’s leader, Tomiyama, leaps from his seat on the ledge and bounds over to Umemiya. “Oh?” He pauses, looking you up and down before smiling brightly at you. “You brought your new friend, Ume!” You wave politely and introduce yourself, a little more relaxed with Umemiya at your side. 

“Smart,” comments whom you assume to be the second-in-command, Togame. He moves at a leisurely pace, barely even blinking as he lifts Tomiyama by the collar of his jacket and sets him at the other end of the meeting’s circle. “Our guys have caught at least three of their guys running surveillance on your side. Who knows what would’ve happened if you left your guest at the school alone.”

“Surveillance?” You frown, but Umemiya doesn’t look surprised. “And what do you mean, something could have happened?” 

“Rival members follow others around, learning their ins and outs,” Togame tells you. “Essentially what you’ve been doing, but uninvited. They’ve been getting pretty pissy about Bofurin lately, so they might’ve tried to use you as some kind of collateral if they knew Umemiya would be out.” The thought makes you gag, and the same discontent expressions can be found on all the occupants of the roof. 

“They’re not very nice, those guys,” Tomiyama pouts. “The ones we’ve questioned wanna take over your side, Ume.” So other teams want to take over Bofurin’s territory more often than Umemiya lets on, you think to yourself. Maybe not even on a weekly basis, but daily. 

“Did you let the guys you’ve questioned off the hook? Or you still have ‘em here?” Hiragi asks. 

“We don’t have any of them here, no,” Togame replies. “But we have a general idea of how they make their rounds and can probably catch a team or two when they start following Bofurin guys.” 

“Great,” Umemiya concludes with a single decisive clap. “Let’s go get ‘em.” 

“Alright, field trip time!” Tomiyama’s energy sends him practically bouncing off the walls. You pack up what little things you brought with you to the meeting and are ready to fall into step behind the guys, but Umemiya stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“Yo, Kaji.” The lollipop-mouthed second-year pulls down his headphones to listen. “Take them back to the school. Don’t want them there in case things get ugly.” You open your mouth to protest, ready to fire off why it’s important that you see the good, bad, and ugly of Bofurin, but Umemiya silences you with a shake of his head. “Please go. I’m not changing my mind.” 

“Why don’t you want me to be there?”

“Like I said, things could get ugly–” 

“And,” you cut in, “I’m capable enough to run if I need to. You can trust me to get out of there on my own.” The tone of his reply is soft and patient, like it was for your own good that you didn’t go. 

“Maybe next time, okay?” You frown, disappointment twisting in your gut. “I don’t doubt that you can handle your own if things get bad. I just…don’t want you to see it if things get bad.” He runs a hand through his hair and the flex of his large bicep suddenly clicks the pieces of understanding into place. There was a reason why he was the head of Bofurin and respected by all these rowdy team members, whether they were on his team or not. Though you hadn’t seen him fight yet, there was a more dangerous side to Umemiya that existed with the kindness he’d shown you. He didn’t want you there in case things got ugly because of him. 

“I–I see.” He nods with a sigh of relief and turns to leave; you pull your arms close to your body at the sudden chill as he walks away. “Umemiya?” He pauses at the doorway, his hand hovering over the handle as he looks over his shoulder at you expectantly. Several things occurred to you to say to them, all of them borderline condescending if he took it the wrong way. Don’t do anything brash. Make sure you come back. You shouldn’t need to use your fists for this. 

“Be safe, please,” is what you settle for. 

— Day 4 of 5: “Everyone makes mistakes // But just don’t”

You’re past the halfway point of studying Furin High and team Bofurin when Hiragi storms into the broadcast room, grumbling about being out of supplies. Umemiya isn’t worried and reassures his friend that they would have what they were missing by the end of the day. Four days of immersing yourself in Bofurin was having a significant effect on you, since you volunteer to do the run before anyone else does. 

To be fair, you did need to run back to your host’s apartment–who had so graciously started letting Umemiya in while he waited for you to get ready in the morning–because you’d forgotten to drop your notebook in your bag before rushing out the door. The list wasn’t huge, either, and you figured you could do the whole trip in about an hour: painkillers (Nirei misjudged his spacing and accidentally got kicked in the crotch), small bandages (Sakura, self-explanatory), wet wipes (Suo noted how dirty the desks became because of everyone’s shoes), and a few packages of plant food (Umemiya insisted on buying some potted flowers from the vendor on your street).

“Are you sure? One of the patrol teams can pick the stuff up,” Umemiya offers, eyeing you oddly. Four days of immersing yourself in Bofurin meant you also caught the team’s head staring when he thought you weren’t looking, and then quickly turning away when you looked back. “Or, if you go, let me send one of the class captains with you, just in case. Sakura should be on patrol in the area.” You shake your head and stand up to leave. 

“I’ll be fine, Ume, I promise.” The nickname slips out before you can stop it, but he doesn’t seem to notice, eyebrows drawn in concern as he watches the floor. You lightly rest your hand on his shoulder and he snaps out of it, exhaling through his nose before nodding, reluctantly. 

“Call if anything happens,” Hiragi grunts before turning to Umemiya. “Hey, weren’t you talking about giving them a–”

“Hiragi, you’re a genius,” Umemiya cuts in and moves to dig through a box at the corner of the room. “Hey, wait,” he says, gently catching your wrist before you’re out the door and pressing a jacket into your hand. Four days of immersing yourself in Bofurin, and you would know the jacket’s green collar and the insignia anywhere. “No one should bother you if you’re wearing it.” 

Ironically, absolutely nothing happens until you’re on your way back from the convenience store. Your host was waiting for you in the living area to give you your notebook, and the store was barely a block away from her apartment. You find the needed items easily, placing a bag of mixed hard candies and a box of new chalk into your basket because you noticed they were running out. It’s a perfect day as you walk back to Furin, all cloudless skies and cool breezes and smooth sidewalks. The Furin jacket fits snugly on your torso, sturdy enough to protect you from the chill in the shade but light enough that you don’t overheat from the sun. It’s nice, something you could get used to. 

You don’t realize they’re behind you until it’s too late. 

“So, you’re Bofurin’s bitch, huh? Nice to see you in the light.” You stop in your tracks and look behind you to see a dozen guys in hot pink team uniforms you don’t recognize. There shouldn’t be that many of a rival team on Bofurin grounds, right? What the hell were they doing here? 

“You gonna say something, or are you stupid as you are ugly?” 

“Aww, look at them. They’re shaking and they don’t even know why,” one of the guys in the front sneers. “Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll give you something to be scared of.” The group starts to approach you and your vision slows like everything was moving through syrup. You catch the symbol on their uniforms, the same one that’s been spray painted on the town’s buildings for the past few days. The encroaching team was trying to take you to get leverage over Bofurin. Not good. Definitely not good. 

“Umemiya’s gonna think twice about messing with us after they see how we mess up his little pet!” Umemiya. You need to get to Umemiya. Your senses come back to you like a freight train and you have half the mind to dig your shoes into the street and run. 

The rival team shouts after you and the sound of pursuing footsteps thunder down the road. With one hand gripping the plastic bag of supplies, you yank your phone from the jacket pocket and frantically swipe to his contact. Your assailants draw closer and you force more energy into your legs, barely outrunning them by a few seconds. You cut through an alleyway and round a corner, but a dip in the road simultaneously makes you trip, pain shooting through your ankle. Shit! Your finger misses the ‘call’ button on your phone and you tap the ‘send location’ button instead. It’s not what you were going for, but your only options were to stop to properly call for help and get caught or keep running on your tweaked ankle. With the group of guys racing around the corner to catch you, you have no choice but to keep running. 

“Get the hell away from me!” You skid to a halt and turn to face the team head-on, your voice unsteady and breathless. You were finally starting to recognize the buildings around you; at the same time, your lungs were aching unbearably. Your pursuers slow to a halt and you’re stuck in a standoff in the middle of the street, the townspeople shutting themselves away in their stores to minimize damage to their own livelihoods. You stumble backward when the team leader steps forward, a cruel grin covering his entire face. 

“C’mon now, we just wanna have a little chat with you, you being Bofurin’s newest addition and all.” The men behind him leer at you, swinging their bats and crowbars up onto their shoulders. 

“Take one step closer and all of Bofurin comes running,” you snarl, shoving your phone forward, your finger hovering over the ‘send location’ button.

“That’s a whole lotta bullshit spewing out of your mouth, sweetie.”

“Why don’t you shut yours, asshole?” You spit. Sure the phone was a bluff, a last-ditch effort to stall for time.

It didn’t matter.

You knew how quickly Bofurin organized. 

As the hot pink leader lunges the remaining distance between you two, he’s knocked to the side by a blur of black, green, and white. Sakura stands up straight, rolls his shoulders, and scowls at you. 

“Why didn’t you call us sooner, dumbass?” 

“What, you think I wanted to get chased down today?” You meet his attitude with your own irritation and exhaustion. “Why didn’t you get here sooner?”

“Just go somewhere safe, idiot,” he yells, slamming his fist into an attacker’s face. “Your boyfriend’ll be here soon, but we were closer when he messaged everyone!” You don’t have time to think about the idea of Umemiya texting all of Bofurin to descend upon your location.Your glare fades quickly into relief and you step backward as Suo and Kiryu launch themselves into the fight.  Kaji and Hiragi rush in within a minute, and you’re spun to face Umemiya before you register that he’s there. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” He searches your face, his anxiety evident. “What did they do to you?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay. They didn’t get me.” Your voice wavers when you try to put weight on your injured ankle, and it panics Umemiya even more. Other Bofurin members enthusiastically join the brawl, but all Umemiya can do is take your hands and scan your body, letting you use him to balance on your good foot. 

“They were chasing you? I knew I should have–” You give him a tired smile and pull his face up to meet your eyes. 

“I didn’t let them catch me. I’m safe, I promise.” He inhales like he’s about to say something, but his attention snaps behind you, his expression hardening in an instant. He slips in front of you like a shield and brings his forearm up to block the hand that was meant to grab you while you were distracted. He throws the attacker to the ground and it lies still, completely unconscious. 

“Hey!” The sound of Umemiya’s voice echoes in the street. The chaos stills, fists suspended in mid air. His eyes that looked so kindly on you darken into shadows, shutting out the sunlight and sending chills down the backs of everyone present. “Not enough to kill…” he orders, securing an arm around your waist and turning you away from the fighting, leaving his underclassmen to finish the job. “But enough.”

You’re a sweating mess and barely able to put weight on your ankle by the time you make it through the doors of Bofurin headquarters. You fall away from his supportive body and your shoulder hits the wall, stars scattering in your vision. Any attempt to drag yourself further, with or without Umemiya’s help, earns you nothing but a hiss and a white-hot flash of pain. Umemiya looks distraught, reaching forward and pulling back with indecisive uncertainty. 

“What do you need me to do? Tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” he pleads with you. “Please, tell me what you need.” 

“Water,” you croak, your voice hoarse and tired. “I just–I can’t–I can’t walk well–” Your feet leave the ground before you can comprehend that you’re in the air, Umemiya’s arms effortlessly lifting you and beginning the ascent up the school’s stairs. His body is steady and he barely breaks a sweat, stone-cold determination his only expression. Your decreasing heart rate pounds in your forehead and you squint against the light once he climbs to the roof. He sets you gently on a chair in the shade before retrieving a bottle of water, watching as you take a few sips before kneeling in front of you. 

“May I?” You blink, regaining your senses, and realize he’s asking if he can inspect your ankle. You hum, settling into the chair while he carefully rolls up the cuff of your pants. His fingers brushing your bare skin momentarily makes you forget any pain, a shock of lightning shooting up your spine as he swipes his thumb over the front of your ankle. He turns your leg over gently in his hands before deeming it okay. “It’s not swelling, thankfully, so it’s probably just a bad sprain at most.” He exhales, deeply relieved, but continues to run his fingers carefully over the tender area. 

“You couldn’t have predicted they would be there,” you say, his thoughts painted all over his face. 

“I didn’t say anything,” he mumbles, more irritated than you expected. He’s just mad at himself, not at you, you need to remind yourself.  

“You didn’t need to.” Your hand reaches itself out on its own accord, turning his face so you could meet his eyes. “I didn’t get hurt because of you.” 

“But you did get hurt,” he mutters, eyebrows drawn the same way as when he was analyzing the pink symbol a few days prior. The cogs in his brain were turning, you could see, but this time there was a lingering sense of shame. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe.”

“I’m here with you, aren’t I?” He shrugs, but you catch the muscle in his jaw relax as his eyes soften. “If that’s not safe, then I don’t know what is.” 

“You’re not angry that I wasn’t there sooner?”

“I’m safest when I’m with you,” you state simply, “and you found me at just the right moment. So no, of course I’m not angry with you.” Words slip out of Umemiya’s mouth before he’s able to register that they’re leaving, but he has half the mind to change the middle part of the sentence before he comes off as too overbearing. 

“I…care about you, deeply.” You smile, letting him take your hand into his own and press his lips to the inside of your palm. 

— Day 5 of 5: “We could live so happily // If no one knows that you’re with me”

It’s 7:00 am and Umemiya isn’t outside your door. 

You curl up on your bed and stare out the window, the street below milling with its usual morning business. After he dropped you off the previous night with a curt ‘sleep well’ and a reminder to ice your ankle, you were left in an eerily quiet bedroom while you tossed and turned thinking about the day’s events. A ring of the doorbell sends you hobbling down the stairs and throwing open the front door, only to be met with a very pink Sakura, flanked by Suo and Nirei. 

“Don’t go outside today,” Sakura says bluntly. Nirei flinches and Suo’s smile becomes slightly strained, both of them eyeing their class captain warily. 

“What he means,” Suo says before Sakura can say anything else, “is that you don’t need to come study Bofurin today.” Your heart sinks. This must have been because of the day prior. He was really mad that you got yourself hurt, huh? 

“Don’t look so sad about it,” Sakura mutters, his cheeks turning a slightly darker shade of red. “It’s annoying.” You stutter an unexpected apology and suddenly have the urge to hide back in your room until your train the next day. 

“I get it,” you say quietly. “He’s angry with me. Please give him my thanks for the hospitality he’s shown me this week. I’ll be gone by 8:00 tomorrow.” You move to close the door when all three boys practically throw themselves in the way. 

“Wait, that’s not what we meant!” Nirei’s eyes are the size of basketballs. 

“Please don’t listen to anything Sakura is saying; he has a hard time empathizing with others.” Nirei nods enthusiastically in agreement with Suo, slapping a hand over Sakura’s mouth to prevent the boy from speaking. “Really, that’s not what we mean by saying you don’t need to study us anymore.” 

“Umemiya wants you to take the day to rest,” Nirei explains quickly. “He doesn’t think you should be walking to and from the school on your injured ankle.” Your sadness is replaced with indignancy and you cross your arms over your chest. 

“He couldn’t have told me this himself?” 

“He would, but…” Nirei’s voice trails off and you catch Suo biting the inside of his cheek. Sakura’s the first to break the silence, peeling Nirei’s hand from his face. 

“Umemiya and the upperclassmen have been beating the shit out of those hot pink assholes since last night.” 

“It must’ve been pretty serious, since he didn’t even allow Suo or Sakura to go with them,” Nirei adds, “And they’re some of the best fighters in our class.” 

“How long has he been out?” 

“Hiragi said he called them late last night and a small team raided the hot pink team’s base.” That would mean Bofurin raided the base immediately after dropping you off. Why would he hide that from you? “Technically, he said not to tell you because he knew you’d panic,” Sakura continues. “So he sent us to tell you to take it easy. Don’t stab the messengers.”

“It’s ‘don’t shoot the messengers,’ Sakura,” Suo corrects and Sakura shrugs, indifferent. 

“And we’re already as good as dead anyway,” Nirei says, his expression dropping. “We weren’t supposed to tell you that he’s been fighting those guys that hurt you.” 

“It’s Sakura’s fault for yapping–”

“You wanna fight?”

“What’s done is done, little brothers.” You stiffen, blinking against the morning sun as Umemiya trudges into your vision. His handsome face has seen better days, small cuts and bruises littered all over his skin. He tossed his jacket over his shoulder, revealing the dirtied white shirt that wasn’t stained the previous evening. He rolls a broad shoulder and stretches his neck from side to side, his underclassmen scurrying away as he steps onto the welcome mat. “G’morning,” he greets in a tired voice. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Better late than never,” you deadpan, taking his hand and guiding him inside. “Thanks boys,” you call over your shoulder at the sheepish underclassmen. “I’ll take it from here,” you finish before shutting the door. 

“Gotta say, this place looks better when my vision isn’t blurry,” Umemiya jokes with a wince, collapsing into a chair at the dining table. You ignore his attempt at humor, retrieving the first aid kit from the closet along with a rag that you soak with warm water. His eyes are on you as you move about; you feel his gaze burn into the back of your neck. 

“If you weren’t already beaten to a pulp, I’d slap you,” you mumble, sitting across from him and gently patting the dried blood from his face. 

“And I’d let you,” he manages to smile, never taking his attention away from you. You can’t tell if your face is hot from his intense stare or from the anger bubbling in your stomach. Scooting closer, you start work on the cut above his lip, just missing his nose. “You smell nice.” 

“You need to stop talking.” His smile fades only slightly, his eyes ever watchful while you take care of his wounds. You hope he can’t tell how badly your hands are shaking as you tap antibiotic ointment onto his skin and cover it with a bandage. 

“You’re upset with me,” he says carefully, observing the way you’re conveniently avoiding eye contact. 

“You just figured that out?”

“You gonna tell me why, or are you just gonna keep scowling?”

“This is not how you usually do things,” you say through gritted teeth, gesturing to the evidence of fights all over his body. “You’re diplomatic. You’re understanding. You’re empathetic. You don’t…You don’t solve problems like this!” You don’t realize how loud your voice has become until you register the echo from the empty walls, nor do you realize that you were standing until his eyes were looking up at you. 

“How do you know that I don’t do this?”

“Because I watched you this week and I know how you work.” You swallow thickly. “I don’t know why you’d break all of that just because of some hot pink bastards running around your–”

“I did it because of you,” he says. “I did it because they hurt you.”

“You didn’t need to do that, Hajime.” It’s the first time you’d used his first name and something flutters in Umemiya’s stomach. He can’t do anything but stare at you in awe, watching as your emotions start to escape down your face in wet streaks. His body moves on its own, reaching out to wipe your tears to the side and standing so that your chests are nearly touching. His voice is barely a murmur, reserved only for you to hear. 

“You didn’t want me to do it?” Both your hearts are racing, slamming against your rib cages. 

“If it meant you getting hurt like this, then no.”

“I’d put myself through much worse if it meant you were safe,” he whispers. In this proximity, your anger flies out the window, along with your good judgment. He was so close, you could just–

“What else would you do for me?” His eyelashes flutter against yours. 

“Anything.” Umemiya thinks he has a broken rib from how little he can breathe. 

“Show me.” It’s like a rubber band snaps between your bodies as he finally leans down to kiss you, molding himself so that you could perfectly melt against him. His grip on your waist is rock-solid, holding you close enough that you feel him shudder when you scratch against his undercut. The sound you make when he swipes his tongue against your bottom lip makes his head go completely empty, the same feeling happening for you when his fingers graze the spot where your neck meets your chin. He kisses you feverishly, refusing to let you breathe until you’re forced to pull away lest you completely lose consciousness. 

“Do you always kiss the people you write about?” He winks at you and you roll your eyes, draping your arms over his shoulders. 

“Only the ones I fall for,” you whisper back. “I’m still mad at you for ditching me this morning, though.” 

“I sent your three favorite underclassmen instead,” he argues but you shake your head, a smile teasing your mouth. “Fine. How can I make it up to you?” You hum thoughtfully, blinking at him in a way that sent Umemiya’s mind into a frenzy. 

“Kiss me again and we’ll call it even.” 

“Whatever you say.” 

— Day [???] of [???]: 

He’s waiting for you when you step off the train, a dazzling smile on his face that grows when he sees the certificate awarded to you with your scholarship funds. A dozen captains dot the platform, diligently watching the back of their leader as he brings down every guard he has and catches you in his arms. After enduring Umemiya talking their ears off, the silence that falls over the area as you bask in each other’s presence is enough of a reason to switch formations, allowing you time alone with the one man who would put himself through hell if it meant you were still his. 

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[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

༉‧₊˚. 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size seer!reader

— summary: cursed with the ability to see futuristic visions, you somehow manage to save spencer reid.

— warnings: mentions of dead pets, bloody noses, past seizures, and serial killers.

— wc: 1290

⋆ a/n: hello! okay so i understand that this is completely random and honestly it was a completed wip that was sitting in my drafts so i figured 'why not?' i'm not really pleased with the ending so if anyone would be interested in a part two or continuation, i wouldn't be against it!

masterlist | AO3

The first time you had a vision you were six playing in your mother’s garden, blissfully running through the overgrowths of plants and vegetation before you dropped to the ground like a bag of rocks.

You don’t remember much aside from the scene that played behind your eyes, like a burnt movie;  dark clouds, blurred yelling, and a puff of fur running out into the street. When you had come-to with a gasp, you were in the hospital.

Apparently when you had fainted you started seizing, body shaking fiercely as blood pooled from your nose. The MRI scans showed that your brain was so healthy it was like the seizure hadn't happened at all.

Sometimes your visions took a while to come to fruition, but when it did, they were never wrong. 

Your childhood dog had managed to weasel its way out from your backyard on that fateful cloudy day. You remember the way the warm wind whipped at your skin, that soon to be familiar feeling in your gut that told you that signaled the inevitable.

It was too late by the time the pet had taken off for the road, where it ended up fatally crushed beneath a moving truck.

You learned not to doubt your ability quickly.

They were triggered by small things, details of everyday life that weren't deeply thought about; like the color of someone's clothes or a certain smell or sound. You knew it was a vision when your nose began to leak blood – which was very inconvenient seeing as though a majority of the time when you’d see things in public.

You'd come to learn that your eyes blur like fog for just a moment until you reconnect with your body. It was a freakish feeling and just downright annoying.

You didn't want to see these things, you didn't want to feel responsible for saving people. It was a hassle, and it was a struggle that all but stole a piece of your soul when it happened. You were isolated and alone, and if that meant keeping others and your mental health safe, then you would just have to grin and bear it.

You just hadn't expected him.

The crosswalks were always somehow crowded in the mornings, a sigh wrenching its way through your lips as you brushed against people.

You were so disoriented when it happened, a single brush to the hand shut your brain down, that sickening feeling of guilt twisting through your nerves.

It was a peculiar scene, one that was dark and eerie, a lingering feeling of danger caught in between the notion that you were not supposed to be there. The house was abandoned and dark, their arms poised outwards like they were holding something. It was as if you were sharing the person's point of view when you were shoved, landing on the ground with a gun pointed at your head.

It didn’t take a genius to guess what happened when your vision went dark. 

You were pulled back into reality with a gasp, a warmth trickling over your lip that was undoubtedly blood. Usually, you wouldn't chase after who the vision pertained to, long sacrificing responsibility, but there was something about it that was just… wrong. Like even your subconscious knowing that, that wasn’t how it was supposed to end for them.

Experiencing your visions took less and less time to register, barely a second had passed before your hand shot out to catch the wrist of the person.

It was connected to a man, a very beautiful man, a man that was now staring at you like you were fucking crazy.

“Ye– oh! Are you alright?!” The man asked in concern, the confusion in his brows dissipating into concern. “Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just… there’ll be a door.”

“A door?” “Yes, a door - fuck - just… just don’t go wherever you are going by yourself. There’s gonna be someone that’s gonna kill you, you need backup. A friend, partner, family, I don’t know just - just don’t go into scary creepy houses by yourself alright? You’re gonna get yourself hurt.”

The man’s mind looked like it was traveling a mile a minute, but you didn’t wait. Releasing your grip on him, you all but shoved past him, digging into your messenger bag for your handy tissues, you found that the crimson liquid had begun to dribble down your chin.

So much for trying to be early.

Spencer’s whole week was thrown off by the random warning that he had received. Now, he’s spoken to many mentally disturbed individuals during his time with the BAU, but nothing has quite stuck with him the way your words did.

Maybe it was because you had looked so frantic when you had approached him, or maybe the fact that there was more blood on your face than what could be considered healthy. It was strange that he had found himself wanting to believe you, because in his line of work, going into scary creepy houses – as you put it – by himself was an incredibly bad idea. 

Spencer has never been the superstitious type; why would he be with the number of scientific discoveries and facts that completely debunked superstitious myths?

But there was something with the way that this scene was playing out in front of him that had struck him as odd.

Flown away to a city state, he and his team were called out to deal with an Unsub that had deluded himself into believing that he was the boogeyman. He killed in the night and lay dormant during the day, but he was accelerating enough that many victims hadn’t made it through the afternoon.

They cracked down on a house where he was determined to be, a decrepit thing that used to be the killer’s childhood home. His team were speaking about how to split up to investigate, and there was basically a boulder in his stomach that told him that that was an extremely bad idea.

“Guys, I don’t think splitting up is a smart idea.” Spencer had found himself interrupting despite the lump in his throat. “I think we should go in pairs; the house has no electricity, which means no light. It would be easy to be blindsided.”

Though Hotch had given him a contemplative look, he had agreed, pairing off the others, Spencer and Derek serving as a duo themselves.

He knew the situation was bad when Derek didn’t talk, creeping through the damp, mold ridden home on high alert. They split off for a moment before joining back together, stopping in front of what was a closed door.

“There’ll be a door… You need backup… Someone that’s gonna kill you…”

Your voice rings through his head like a hit gong.

“Morgan.” He murmured quietly as he approached. When he twisted the knob with the intent to throw it open, someone lunged at him, tackling him to the ground. He doesn’t writhe for long before the unsub is shot, Morgan apprehending the man.

Spencer usually isn’t this dazed after an experience like that, but there was something about this instance that told him that maybe - just maybe - this one had been too close of a call.

And the only thing he could find himself thinking about was how the fuck did you know about all of this? 

A part of him is unsure, cautious of the information that he had just used to basically save his life. You could have manipulated this, sure, but there were so many constantly changing and unexpected variables to this case that it would’ve made it damn near impossible to manipulate everything in your favor.

Which begs the question of who are you? (And how does he thank you?)

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[tongue-like-a-razor]

Never Meant to See You Again

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Your ex-boyfriend, Jake Seresin, confesses how he really feels. Meanwhile, it's raining, so he looks sexy af doing it.

CW: ANGST - sorry, my loves. I know it's Valentine's season but sometimes you just wanna hurt so good.

WC: 1600+

This fic was written for @roosterforme's love is in the air tgm challenge! Inspired by the song I Wish It Would Rain Down by Phil Collins.

Masterlist

“Hey!” you hear the desperation in his voice even with the deafening wind. “Y/N!” he shouts when you don’t stop walking. “Will you just” – he pleads, the sound of his voice growing closer despite your quickening pace – “Just for one second, just” –

You feel his hand close around your arm and you whip your head around. Jake watches you with a grimace as the wind pummels his face. “What?” you ask aggressively.

Jake lets go of you and shrugs, spreading his arms to indicate that he hasn’t thought this far ahead. “We have to coexist, Y/N.”

“Great,” you respond. “Let’s do that.” You start walking again – briskly because the sky is darkening and your hair is starting to escape its bun and swipe violently at your face.

You hear him sighing just before a boom of thunder drowns out his approaching footsteps. He falls in step with you despite you trying to keep your distance. “We’re on the same team,” he says, loudly enough that you can hear him despite the howling wind.

You glance up at him distrustfully as he slows his pace to meet your gaze.

“Y/N,” he starts again.

“Don’t.” You shake your head, tearing your eyes away from his overgrowth of stubble, still walking.

“Look,” he says, taking a hold of your arm again to get your attention. “I know that you don’t need me,” he pauses, watching you steadily. “You don’t need me in your life.” He sighs, regret stealing over his features. “But you might still need me up there.” He points up at the rolling clouds overhead with the same hand that’s holding his helmet, because his other one is still firmly wrapped around your forearm.

You glare at him mutely. Jake Seresin might have been a shitty boyfriend, but he’s a hell of a pilot and you know that he’s right.

Jake lets out a resigned breath. “Wasn’t my idea. I never meant to see you again, babe.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“It’s temporary,” he says and you wonder if he’s referring to the mission you’ve both been called back for or him calling you ‘babe’.

“We should go inside,” you say stoically as the weather that’s put your training on hold for the day deteriorates further.

Jake nods, his eyes still lingering on yours, stalling. He takes a moment to run a hand through his hair, longer these days but no less obnoxiously becoming. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Not now, Seresin,” you say flatly, starting for the hangar again. You feel the first drop of rain land on your forehead.

“Y/N,” he says.

You turn to see him standing there defeatedly, watching you with a miserable expression. You can tell that he’s still hurting and, despite utterly hating his guts, it isn’t easy to see him in pain. The year of distance has tempered your loathing, much to your dismay, and now you find yourself almost feeling sorry for the man. Almost. “Was there something else?” you ask, trying to keep your breathing steady as you meet his gaze.

He gives you a small smile. “Just that, it’s good to see you.”

You exhale sharply as his words send a jolt through your body. “It’s starting to rain,” you state, wavering on the spot while Jake stands perfectly still. Further down the flightline, the maintenance crews are retreating after having secured the last of the equipment before the storm.

Jake takes a step forward while you focus on remaining upright against the gusts of wind. But his growing proximity isn’t helping you feel steady on your feet.

You let him come right up to you before finally taking a step back. “I’m not getting caught out in this storm,” you say, retreating.

Jake glances up at the skies as though he’s welcoming the impending shower. “It’s just a bit of water,” he says as the rain starts coming down harder. “It’ll be over soon enough.”

But he knows as well as you do that you aren’t one to wait around, hoping that the storm will pass. You don’t have that kind of patience. “I can be civil,” you call, walking backward as the downpour intensifies.

Jake watches you through the heavy rain pelting the tarmac. You try to catch your breath as it washes over your face and trickles past the collar of your flight suit, soaking your undershirt. “Me too,” he responds.

You flex your hands, curling them into fists as your pace slows to a halt when you see that Jake isn’t budging. When he finally takes a step forward, you sigh, trying to summon the hatred you once felt toward him. Unfortunately, all you can muster is despair.

Jake is moving slowly, as though he’s half-expecting you to run, but the truth is, you can’t move a muscle because you’re entranced. It’s ridiculous how attractive he looks with rainwater dripping from his soaking hair. He approaches cautiously, his eyes meeting yours as he presses his lips together solemnly. “I let you down,” he says, his eyebrows converging as he frowns. “And I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I know that. I’m not expecting it.”

You clench your teeth to keep your mouth from trembling as your eyes well up. Finally, the pouring rain exhibits an advantage – masking your falling tears.

“But I need you to know that I am sorry,” he continues, his eyes searching your face. “I’m an idiot for ever letting you go.”

You lower your gaze, blinking through the water – whether it’s tears or rain is irrelevant at this point. Jake’s hands come up and he places them on your arms, so gently that you wouldn’t feel them if you weren’t watching them in action. You let out a shaky sigh as he takes another step forward and, when he presses his lips to the top of your head, you squeeze your eyes shut.

“God, I missed you,” he breathes as his mouth moves to your forehead.

You shake your head, lifting your face to grace him with a reproachful look. You’ve spent an entire year getting over him. Twelve months coping with the pain of losing your best friend. Three hundred and sixty-five days adjusting to his absence. And he has the nerve to tell you that he’s missed you? “Come on, Jake,” you say, not quite able to suppress the hint of malice in your tone. “Doesn’t look like this rain is going to be letting up anytime soon.”

Jake studies your face. “One day, maybe.”

You scoff. “Meanwhile, it’s getting uncomfortable.”

Jake smiles sadly. “I don’t mind it,” he says. “As long as I’m with you.”

You take a step back. “You’re not.”

“I know.”

You let out another frustrated sigh but you can’t seem to hold it together any longer. Dropping your helmet into the puddle at your feet, you break down in tears.

Immediately, Jake closes the gap between the two of you and takes your face in his hands, his eyes flitting between yours urgently despite the wall of rain between you. “Please don’t,” he begs, his face contorted as he tries to hold back tears of his own. “Please.” He rests his forehead over yours.

You push at him and back away. “Then stop!” you yell, your words barely audible over the pouring rain. “Stop making me hurt!”

Jake bows his head, running a hand over his face as his shoulders start to shake. When he glances up at you, his eyes are red and shining. “I can’t stop, Y/N,” he croaks, his voice breaking when he says your name. “I love you.”

You roll your eyes and let out a spiteful laugh but, when Jake steps forward again, cupping his hands around your cheeks, you bite into your bottom lip, falling silent.

“You might not need me anymore,” he says, “but I still need you. And I know that’s selfish, and I know that it’s never gonna happen, but I’m not gonna stand here and pretend to be okay. I’m not okay.”

You watch him solemnly, trying to subdue the trembling of your body. Whether it’s the rain or his words causing you to vibrate uncontrollably is anybody’s guess.

“I’m never getting over you,” he whispers, his lips hovering just over your mouth.

It’s taking all of your strength to hold back a sob; to keep from falling into his arms and letting him shelter you from the rain. Jake has always been an expert at testing your self-control. “We should go,” you mutter. “Before this storm gets any worse.”

Jake sighs over your lips. “It’s just rain, baby,” he whispers. “It’s always gonna pass.”

You close your eyes, feeling yourself submitting to his pull. “It’s getting cold,” you counter.

“I can warm you,” he breathes.

And suddenly, you’re letting out a whimper and grabbing a hold of his flight suit and drawing him impossibly close. At the same time, Jake lifts your face, finally locking his lips with yours. His kiss is so needy, so fevered that it’s making your head spin. His hands leave your face as he wraps his arms around your neck, moving further into you as your fingers clasp behind his back, squeezing him against your body.

You aren’t thinking about the past when his tongue is pushing urgently against your own. You aren’t thinking about the future when your palms travel up his chest, slipping up the wet skin of his neck until your hands are on his face, your fingers stroking the stubble on his jawline. The storm is far from over but perhaps you’ve got what it takes to ride it out.

Jake clutches your waist as he layers your mouth with kiss after kiss. “Oh, baby,” he mutters apologetically. “Baby, I swear I never meant to see you again.”

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[pernesophe]

Post Apocalyptic AU Kaji x Reader

Chapter 1: The Witch and the Vampire

(Minors, Ageless and Blank Blogs DNI)

WC: 6490. Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4 (links will be added as they are finished)

MDNI. TW for this post: fluff, angst, biting, blood drinking, past character deaths mentioned (Multi-part story, so TW for the whole series are fluff, angst, smut, character death(s)).

Synopsis: Set after an apocalyptic war where reader was born and raised in Furin centuries after the fall of society. Her town is the last patch of green in an otherwise barren world. Nobody knows what caused the war, just that a group of young heroes who were called "Bofurin" fought to save the town. Though records say there were no survivors, it is rumored one Bofurin managed to survive, and is still somehow alive all these years later. (This chapter is more to set the scene for the story).

Song: Playlist Post Kaji's Scent: Based on Brother Night by Apoteker Tepe Reader's Scent: Based on Basilica by Milano

Death is defined in many ways:

1. the action or act of dying or being killed; the end of the life of a person or organism.

2.the state of being dead.

3.the permanent ending of vital processes in a cell or tissue.

In this story a lot of people live, but a lot more die… and yet, with the definition of death provided and the knowledge that it occurs in the following story, it remains to be a fairly unknown concept. So, before beginning this story, I pose to you three questions:

What occurs after death?

Where does one go when they die?

Does existence persist?

“Y/N! Make sure you get more mint and rosemary while you’re out there. We’re gonna need to dry a ton for this winter - I can feel illness coming with the cold,” Kiyoko called out as you stepped through the door. With a cheerful wave and nod, you pulled the rickety wooden door of the hut shut and headed towards the edge of town.

The little town you had grown up in was a little damaged from the war, but what was left of the buildings made for a good home. It also didn’t hurt that the green overgrowth on the buildings and over the former streets were edible. Despite the barren grounds on the edge of the town, your little spot of green housed and fed the sizable community. Many elders credited the witches for coming out of hiding a few centuries prior and warding the town against the threats beyond the verdant foliage, but thanks to Kiyoko you were reminded often that your town has a different group to thank.

As you approached the abandoned building on the edge of town - rectangular with a tree sprouting out of the roof, and a high wall around the edge of the property that still had colorful drawings etched into the stone - you were reminded of the stories of Bofurin. The war had ended long before you were born, so you had no idea what caused the fall of society or why the world was how it was now. What Kiyoko did tell you was that your little community only survived because of Bofurin, a group of young men who defended the town during the height of the war. Unfortunately, none survived through the end.

Despite the lack of survivors, one woman - Kotoha Tachibana - carried on their story and the good they did. That’s why your little village still held a vigil every year on the day the last Bofurin died. A young man with locks split down the middle like the half moon, and dual toned eyes - one slate gray and the other amber. Sakura Haruka was his name, and it was rumored that Kotoha was inconsolable for months after his death. Proven by the fact that she wore black in mourning for the rest of her days. Even though it was recorded that Kotoha celebrated in the vigil as well, she also insisted that there was still one Bofurin remaining until her last breath. His name was never recorded, but it’s rumored that he still lived in the abandoned building on the edge of town.

Surveying the structure riddled with green overgrowth, you thought you caught a glimpse of a shadow pass by one of the dusty windows backlit by the setting sun. But you just chuckled and shook your head before pushing onward. Though a witch, even you had to draw a line at some myths and superstitions.

Ambling through the doorway devoid of any door, making your way up the stairs - stepping over roots as you climbed. Once on the third floor, a quiet cough drew your attention down the hall to your left. Immediately the hair on the back of your neck stood on end. This building had always been eerily silent until now.

“He-hello…?” you called out quietly. Hoping, praying, that no one responded.

A soft melodic voice, timid in nature, pricked Kaji’s ears towards the long forgotten sound of another person. Silently, he moved to the door of the classroom he’d decided to make home centuries ago. Peering out around a thick vine, he saw you. A mousy girl clad in knitted black tights, a red-orange floral patchwork tunic, and a marigold-yellow cardigan. A leather cord looped around your neck with a black stone pendant wrapped in copper wire hung low on your chest. Old, worn leather boots laced up to your ankles with gray wool socks peeking out the tops. A large, aged sack, the same worn brown as your boots, was slung over your shoulder. Notes of resinous camphor, fresh greens and incense clung to your clothes and hair. Just from your clothes and scent Kaji could tell you were a witch, and deduced you were probably coming to collect herbs from Umemiya’s garden. 

Releasing a soft sigh, the remaining Bofurin sadly smiled to himself knowing the old leader would have loved that his garden was still helping the town. Stepping back into the classroom, Kaji silently waited for you to pass on. The sun would be setting soon, and no one in town has stayed or come to visit the school at night in a long time. Not since Kotoha’s last visit. Resting the back of his head against the wall of the classroom, he sadly reminisced over his last remaining friend and just how long it had been since he’d spoken to anyone. 100 years? 150…? 200 years seemed too high, he concluded. 

“U-um,” a quiet murmur from the doorway tore Kaji from his rumination as his eyes snapped to yours. He hadn’t even heard you approaching - how could he be so careless? Silently he kicked himself before your gentle voice filled the room once more, “He-hello!”

This time you forced a bit more cheer into your tone and offered the silent stranger a smile. The man before you had medium-length blonde hair, cerulean irises, and a severe expression on his face. From the looks of the room, you could tell he’d been living here a while - alone. A bedroll was spread out in the corner with a standing lamp next to it, but other than that it seemed to be what the elders had described as a ‘classroom’. 

Even though his face was intimidating, with fists clenched by his sides, his eyes reflected a deep sorrow that tore at your heart. Eyeing his pale skin, incredibly aged clothes that you immediately recognized to be a Furin Uniform, along with the aroma of vaporous amber and rich marigolds you realized that he couldn’t be human. Not anymore at least.

“I’m Y/N,” offering softly as you took a slight step forward to not block the door, “what’s your name?” Inquiring hopefully as you tossed him another reassuring smile. The closer you drew, the more intense your scent became as creamy balsamic and crisp wood reminiscent of pencils enveloped his senses. Suddenly, he was struck with the memory of being in class with his friends just before heading out for patrol, when everyone was still… alive.

Overcome with a sense of melancholy and nostalgia, Kaji moved towards you with widened eyes and fangs poking out over his lips. Taking a slight step back, your heart hammered in your chest as you shook your head lightly and extended your hand to keep him back. In an instant he was sinking his fangs into your neck while gripping your upper arms bruisingly. Hints of rich, peppery smoke drifted from his jacket and tickled your nose while all you could do was squeak and tremble in his powerful hold. 

Kaji’s mind filled with the old days in Furin - patrol, Pothos, Kusumi and Enomoto - as the thick, warm liquid flowed over his tongue, soothing his parched throat. Now closer than before, he caught a comforting aroma of pure sweet-wood and velvety leather clinging to your skin. Then, an old yet familiar flavor cascaded over his taste buds that brought tears to his eyes. Peach Chupa Chups. All at once, he released your throat before collapsing - dragging you to the floor with him - his body violently racked with sobs. 

Stunned into silence, you sat there for several minutes as he clung to you with his face buried in your neck, shaking. Ever so slowly, you pulled your arms out of his hold and looped them around his neck - one hand gripping the back of his head gently while the other rubbed his shoulder blade. Softly, you hummed an old lullaby that Kiyoko would sing to the children during the dead of winter. Kaji instantly recognized the melody that had carried through the snow covered streets to the old abandoned school many winters in a row now. Gradually he quieted until he was just clinging to you like a life preserve, his face still buried in the crook of your neck where the comforting scent of creamy peach chupa chups flooded his senses.

“Ar-are you okay?” Whispering softly as you slowly released your hold around him. Gingerly, he pulled away from your neck to look you in the eye, his expression wrought with remorse. Parting his lips to respond, but a notch swiftly formed in his brow as nothing but squeaky air came out. Blinking rapidly at his perturbed expression that slipped into one of defeat, then you tilted your head and swept your hair away from your neck.

“Here,” urging softly as you leaned closer to him, but Kaji just stared back in disbelief. “You’re parched and can’t speak…” clarifying your reasoning as you leaned even closer, but he just shook his head lightly instead. “It’s okay - I’m a witch - I know a blood replenishing spell,” assuring him as you brought your neck inches away from his face. 

Kaji looked torn as his cerulean irises flicked from the blood still staining your neck, to your trusting gaze, and then back again. At this distance, your sweet-wood incense and crisply herbaceous essence was inescapable. Swallowing thickly, Kaji gently cupped your cheek so you could rest your head in his palm as he wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap. Drawing his mouth to the crook of your neck as he parted his lips, then he sank his teeth into your sensitive flesh before latching on once more.

The second your blood touched his tongue, Kaji’s grip on you tightened as he groaned against your neck greedily. Flavors he hasn’t tasted in God knows how long spilled over his taste buds. Fresh rosemary and sharp thyme clung to the red liquid first, quickly followed by delicate dairy like he’d find in sweet pastries from the Cactus Bakery. Then smoked, earthy cinnamon flooded his mouth the same as the liquor he’d drank with his friends at the start of the war. Finally, that old addicting flavor of Peach Chupa Chups swirled across his wet muscle as tears pricked his eyes. Kaji could feel his cheeks warming from your blood as he clung tighter to your smaller form and grunted deliriously into your neck.

At first you felt completely okay, but then as Kaji swallowed more of your blood the room began to spin. Your head felt heavy as you leaned fully into the palm of his hand. Heat pricked at you and sweat dewed across your skin as nausea pulled uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. The edges of your vision grew dark and fuzzy before you realized he wasn’t stopping.

“Hm, um-” your slurred speech finally broke him out of his trance as he felt the light tapping of your hand against his forearm. Immediately he detached from your throat and leaned back to see your incredibly pale face and half lidded eyes, a thin sheen of sweat covered your forehead. Your labored breathing caused your chest to rise and fall shallowly while a slight shivering overtook your body.

“N-no!” Kaji emitted a terrified gasp, while repositioning your shivering form so you were cradled in his lap as your head lolled against his chest. “Hey,” murmuring desperately as he began tapping your cheek lightly with his fingertips, “don’t pass out. Please don’t pass out,” he pleaded softly as your eyelids fluttered shut and then gradually cracked open again.

“Th-the spell! Hey, you need to do the spell,” his voice grew louder with urgency as he shook you gently. The sound of your weak heartbeat thundered in his ears tauntingly while primal fear stabbed through his own.

Blinking slowly, you nodded and reached up to grab the stone pendant around your neck. To Kaji’s relief, you brought it to your lips and whispered a foreign word he had never heard before, and then the color started returning to your face as the bite wound on your neck slowly closed. 

Humming softly, you tried to sit up but your face scrunched from still feeling light headed. Kaji gingerly helped you sit up, though he bore most of your weight on his chest, and looped an arm around your back to keep you upright. Ever so gently he cupped your cheek and tilted your head so he could look at your face clearly.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” He asked quietly, cerulean irises swimming in guilt and remorse.

“Uh, mhm,” intoning just loud enough for his perceptive ears to catch it. Blinking slowly, vision slowly focused on his face as you tossed him a weak smile. “I’m okay… Wh-who are you by the way?” You inquired again, eyes flicking to the worn Furin button on the collar of his uniform. A pregnant pause passed as he seemed to be debating whether he should answer you or not.

“Kaji.” He finally responded. Instantly, your eyebrows shot up as you not so subtly waited for the rest of his name. Instead he just stared at you, stubbornly silent.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Kaji,” offering kindly and sitting up a bit more as the light headedness subsided. Despite bearing your own weight, he kept his arm securely around your back as he continued staring at you apprehensively. Tilting your head in question and peering at him, then you chirped out a cheery, “are you feeling better?”

“You taste like peach Chupa Chups,” he blurted out immediately as a notch formed in his brow at his own admission. Then his expression turned accusatory before he asked, “did you do that on purpose? Can witches do that?”

“Uh-um,” chuckling nervously as a crease formed in your brow as well. Slowly you shook your head as the mounting confusion showed clearly on your face. “N-no, we can’t… um, what are Peach Chupa Chups?” Inquiring with a curious titter as Kaji just blinked at you, completely perplexed. Silence filled the room for several tense moments - him regarding you suspiciously and you staring back obliviously - before his cracked voice broke it.

“They’re these… suckers,” his fingers twitched in your tunic at the word, but when you just looked confused he corrected himself. “Candies that I used to eat… all of the time,” he spoke slowly as tears collected along his lash line. Intaking a hissing breath, he then looked to the floor - trying to blink away his tears.

“Oh… I’m so sorry,” whispering softly as you searched for the proper words. Honestly, you couldn’t relate to having something all of the time like that, or what it would feel like to lose it. But it was evident that Kaji was deeply affected, so you gently placed your hand on his shoulder and squeezed comfortingly.

“Is there anything I can do?” You asked tentatively, and Kaji just looked at you with a mirthless twitch of his lips.

“Unless you can summon a millenia-old candy, then no, I don’t think so,” he said with a defeated sigh. Then he added with genuine gratitude reflecting in his eyes, “thank you though.”

“No problem,” whispering as you stared at his melancholic expression. Desperately you wanted to ask him if he was the last Bofurin, about the war, and everyone who fought to save your little town. But the look on his face told you it was better to leave it be.

Wordlessly the two of you sat like that in the darkening classroom for several minutes. You studied the fabled individual curled around you, and Kaji subtly inhaled your ambery oud-musk that enveloped him - knowing that you would be going soon. As dusk set upon the world outside, that moment finally arrived as you twitched in his arms and moved to speak. Kaji sadly met your gaze and awaited your goodbye.

“I-I have to go…” murmuring softly, your own heart breaking from his sorrowful nod. “But, um, would it be okay if I came back tomorrow?” Querying cautiously as you clasped your hands in your lap, twirling your thumbs nervously. Instantly, his whole demeanor brightened with surprise as he began bobbing his head without any hesitation.

Rising to your feet, a relieved smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you uttered a quiet goodbye and made your way to the doorway. Kaji just stared at you, a little dumbfounded, but with longing filled eyes. At the door, you turned back with a reassuring look as you promised you would be back first thing tomorrow evening. Silently, he nodded as you disappeared through the doorway, and then he listened to your quiet footsteps until you exited the building. 

The walk home was a little brisk with the coming autumn, but not cold enough to make you shiver. As you stepped over twisted roots and ducked under thick vines draped between abandoned buildings, you pondered what you could do for the lonely soul in that classroom. So deep in your rumination that when you walked through the wooden door of the hut you didn’t even hear Kiyoko speaking.

“Y/N? Did you get more mint and rosemary?” She asked again, regarding you with a worried expression from where she stood in front of the wood stove. Blinking slowly as you processed her words, and then you realized you hadn’t gone to the garden at all.

Guiltily admitting that you didn’t get them or any herbs while hanging your head, but Kiyoko didn’t chide you and simply asked what happened. She brewed a calming tea and sat on the floor with you at the short wooden table that dated back to before the war. There, over a cup of lilac-chamomile tea, you told her about your encounter with Kaji as you begged her not to tell anyone else throughout the entire tale.

At first she was too stunned to respond, but eventually agreed and urged you to tell her everything. So you told her as much as you could, even though you and Kaji hadn’t shared many words. Once finished, you made sure to convey to her that he wasn’t dangerous and seemed remorseful to have bitten you. Luckily, Kiyoko believed you so, taking a chance, you asked if she knew anything about “blood preserves”. A perplexed look crossed her face until you clarified that you meant “candies” - using the word Kaji mentioned before - hoping she’d recognize it.

Nodding slowly, she told you she might and went to find her grimoire. The room was quiet except for the flipping of pages, pausing at points to read more thoroughly, and then flipping once more. Several minutes passed like this until she stopped on a page with a tap of her finger and a triumphant aha! Returning to the table, she handed you the page with a prideful smile.

Gratefully, you thanked her and then asked if she knew of any elders who had pictures or writings from before the war. Kiyoko cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips before directing you to ask Mr. Sato, since he inherited everything from his ancestors who owned a popular store in Furin before the war. Again, you thanked her genuinely and promised that you would get the herbs tomorrow evening. You also told her that you wouldn’t be returning until the morning after and to not worry or send anyone looking for you. Apprehensive, she asked if you were sure, but you just smiled and nodded confidently in response.

After that, the conversation turned to town affairs. Mostly about the uptick in the birth rate and overall population, which was a major boon for the town, but also the fact that resources weren’t keeping up with growth. Kiyoko mentioned that the elders were becoming worried about what that would mean for future generations. Unfortunately you didn’t have any words to quell her stress, so you just gently took her hand and squeezed it. The two of you let the quiet consume the small hut before turning in for the night.

First thing the next morning you went straight to Mr. Sato and asked about anything he had from before the war. Surprised, but giddy to show anyone his memorabilia, he dragged you to the lower level of the old building he lived in to show you boxes upon boxes of magazines. After about 30 minutes of his excited babbling, he finally let you loose on the boxes and told you to let him know if you needed any help. It took you another 45 minutes of gingerly flipping through the aged pages until you came upon a printed word that you recognized. 

“Candies” was printed small in the bottom right hand corner of the page. In the center was a blown up picture of an oval, green candy on a stick. Printed at the top of the page, above the picture, were a sequence of letters that if you sounded out were similar to the word Kaji said. “Suckers.” 

The design seemed simple enough for you to replicate, so after that you sought out a few of the town’s children and asked them to help you find sticks. More importantly, ones that you could put food on, so not poisonous or toxic. Excited by the mystery of the task, they all pitched and then happily whittled their findings into long, smooth, uniform sticks. 

With all the materials gathered, you prepared to extract the final ingredient. Blood. More specifically, yours. Kiyoko was kind enough to help you collect enough to make about 30 suckers, and once they were set in their molds you not so patiently waited for them to dry. Multiple times Kiyoko shooed you out of the kitchen, and finally the hut altogether, and told you not to come back until the sun had set. As you ambled away from the hut she chided you about being so antsy that you were stressing her out.

So to pass the time and repay the kid’s hard work, you played a few games of hide and seek as well as sharks and minnows with them. As the sun began to dip behind rubbled buildings, casting long shadows from the vines over the streets, you promised to make them some treats soon while returning to the hut. Even though it was growing late in the year, you suspected there may be some late yields of berries that you could make suckers from as well. 

Kiyoko met you at the door of the hut with the suckers already wrapped up and your overnight bag in her hand. With a laugh she told you that she couldn’t let your antsiness back into the hut, lest she’d catch your stress for the rest of the night. Gratefully, you thanked her with a chuckle of your own and took both items before she shooed you off with a bright smile.

Frigid weather grew ever nearer as you approached the abandoned school. A harsh wind tore through your cardigan despite wrapping it tightly around yourself to brace against the swiftly approaching autumn. Though the mild season seemed to turn to winter quicker and quicker with each passing year. Soon you would have to break out the large Furin jacket that had been passed down to you from Kiyoko - she said it belonged to one of the Kings. Hiragi Toma.

Making your way through the doorway and up the gnarled, rooted stairs, you wondered how Kaji would feel about the town putting so many items from Bofurin to use. Halting at the top on the third floor, once again the building was eerily silent but this time you knew where to search for the fabled resident. 

Except when you stepped into the doorway of the classroom, you found it to be devoid of any sign of Kaji. The bedroll now gone, the small duffel bag strewn to the side replaced with papers shifting from a wayward breeze. Your heart wrenched as your eyes confirmed that all signs of Kaji had been swept away, though you weren’t sure why but you felt a lump forming in your throat and tears collecting along your lash line over someone you’d just met.

Hanging your head with a sorrowful sigh as you stepped backwards out of the classroom, but then a loud gasp escaped you as your back hit something incredibly hard and unmoving. Swiftly turning on your heel with raised fists to face the offending obstruction, but you were instead met with a pair of familiar cerulean irises.

“Kaji!” Crying out immediately as a wide smile spread across your face, the sound of your hammering heart echoed in his ears. He stared back in shock, mostly due to your expression that was mixed with excitement and… relief. “I thought you had left. Where’d all of your stuff go?” You asked with a worried tilt of your head, and again Kaji just blinked at your genuine concern.

“Uh,” his voice sounded a little hoarse before he cleared it with a cough behind his fist. “Winter’s coming, and the direction of the sun starts changing day by day, so I have to move a lot throughout autumn and spring to be safe.” He explained, and your gaze followed his gesture to one classroom over before coming back to his still regarding you with a mix of solace and disbelief. 

Nodding slowly as you took in all of the windows in the hallway, and the large ones in the classroom. For a moment you wondered why he wouldn’t just cover them, but as your gaze returned to his worn Furin jacket it dawned on you that it was probably familiar to him this way. Awkwardly, Kaji averted his gaze to the end of the hall with another cough behind his fist, which reminded you of the suckers. Quickly patting the pockets of your cardigan and tunic, drawing Kaji’s attention back to you with interest, and then you suddenly produced the wrapped bundle with a triumphant aha! Beaming brightly as you thrusted the wrapped package into his hands, but Kaji just stared at them for a moment before looking at you, completely perplexed.

“Open it!” You urged him with a laugh. Blinking slowly, then turned his attention back to the cloth in his hands as he slowly unwrapped it to reveal a slew of blood red candies on beige, whittled sticks. 

Suckers. 

All he could do was stare at them for a long, long moment. Then, ardently, he took one of the sticks between his thumb and index finger before bringing the candy to his lips and stuck it between his teeth. Iron was the first thing he tasted, then something freshly herbaceous, and finally creamy Peach Chupa Chup flooded his mouth. 

You observed the sucker pass his lips closely as his eyes fell shut, and then his brow creased in recognition before smoothing out completely with an expression of unbridled satisfaction. When his eyes cracked open to meet your gaze again, they were misty and filled with deep, nostalgic longing. Tentatively, you threw him a tiny smile - hoping that you did something right by him, instead of making him sadder. Instantly, he stifled a sob - trying to swallow it down - as he was reminded of all the times the townspeople offered him food and sweets with a grateful smile. 

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” Exclaiming as you shifted your weight from foot to foot, having no idea how to comfort him. His face crumpled as he just shook his head at you and choked on his words. After several seconds of the hall being filled with echoing chokes and sniffles, you swallowed thickly and stepped forward. 

Kaji stilled as he felt your arms wrap around his torso and squeeze him tightly. Words were never something that came easily to you in these situations, but you had some experience with the town’s children. Whenever they would cry and couldn’t speak about it, you’d just hug them as tight as you could until they were able to speak again. So that’s what you did - hugged Kaji with all of your strength while rubbing his back comfortingly while softly humming the same tune from the day before. With each intake of breath, your lungs were filled with his essence of wood smoke, copal incense, and bitter marigolds.

Eventually the trembling from his sobs subsided and he was stuck standing in your embrace, utterly stunned. Peering down, he had to stifle a laugh at your scrunched face pressed against his chest to counter the melodic lullaby you were humming into his jacket; accentuated by you clinging onto him with all your might. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around you as well, the lullaby stopping short in your throat, as he buried his nose into the top of your head while crushing you into his chest.

“Thank you for the suckers,” susurrating into your hair as his eyelids fell shut. Several minutes passed of you remaining perfectly still while Kaji held you close, breath puffing into your hair rhythmically.

To him you smelled like any other witch that has wandered through: cedar soaked in cypriol oil, clouded in labdanum incense - reminiscent of the old candlelit rituals that would be held by the stone walls of the school. But underneath he kept catching whiffs of creamy, sweet peaches - the aroma that drew him to you and filled his mind with dreams of the old days. The aroma that kept weaving visions of you into those same dreams with a sense of comforting nostalgia he didn’t quite understand. 

Eventually, you felt your legs going to sleep from standing for so long, so you peered up at him cautiously. Kaji jumped slightly as your hair shifted against his nose, and when he cracked his eyes he was met with yours just inches away. From here he could feel the warmth of your breath fanning against his neck and jaw. Swallowing thickly, the sucker clinked against his teeth, as he gradually released you though he didn’t step away - your body heat still radiated through the gray sweatshirt to his skin underneath.

“Um,” murmuring as you shifted your weight awkwardly under his unblinking stare. “I hope it’s okay - I brought an overnight bag,” declaring as you held up the burlap sack, “to stay the night…” you quietly trailed off as Kaji’s eyes widened to an impossible degree. 

Before you could tell him that it was okay if not, or that you could even sleep in a different classroom, he nodded his head stiffly. Grinning wide, you started to ask him where you should put your stuff, but he grabbed your hand tightly and led you to the classroom he gestured at earlier. To your surprise, he didn’t let go until you were settled across from him on his bedroll, and when he finally did his eyes stayed glued to your hand for a moment before meeting your sympathetic gaze. Everything about him - from his eyes, to his expression and demeanor, to the clothes he wore and the place he resided - screamed loneliness. 

“Did you bring anything to sleep on?” He finally spoke, gaze drifting to your bag that couldn’t possibly hold a bedroll, then back to your bright red face.

“Well, um, kind of…” you laughed out sheepishly. “But I don’t really sleep on a bedroll at home - me and Kiyoko sleep on some old rugs that have lasted. So I just brought one that would fit,” explaining quickly as you opened the sac to reveal a printed mat that would maybe fit about half of your body. Kaji just stared at it incredulously for a moment before shooting you a deadpan look.

“You can take my spot,” he stated with a nod to the bedding the two of you were currently sitting on. Your mouth fell open as a hot, prickly sensation crawled over your body.

“Absolutely not! I can’t take your bed.” Arguing with a vehement shake of your head, before you continued seriously, “I sleep on the floor all the time anyway, so I’m used to it, and I just showed up without any real invitation. It would be rude of me to take it,” finishing your point with a decisive nod of your head. The corner of Kaji’s mouth twitched at your change in tone and the determined notch in your brow.

“Then we’ll share it,” Kaji conceded, despite the subtle twitch of his lips, his expression had returned to deadpan at this point. Before you could argue any further, he smoothly added, “you did show up without any real invitation. It would be rude of you not to take the sleeping arrangements offered.” 

All protests died on your tongue as you slowly closed your mouth and relented with a small nod. Though there was barely any change in his expression, you did catch a triumphant gleam in his cerulean eyes and your heart swelled at the tiny change in his affect. The two of you sat there quietly as the dusk turned dark while the classroom became shadowy. Eventually it was difficult to see Kaji at all, and when you heard a bang from the roof you jumped with a high pitched squeak.

Click, click, click. Suddenly the room was bathed in soft yellow light from a lamp in the corner where Kaji now stood. Breathing a sigh of relief, you watched as he settled on the bedding once more - your expression worried and questioning.

“Animals,” he explained after a moment - finally catching on to your silent inquiry. Instantly your eyes lit up with intrigue. It’s been years since any animals other than humans have been recorded in town. Honestly, it was assumed most died out centuries ago. “I guess you all don’t really get the chance to see them - most turned nocturnal a few hundred years after the war. Just generally safer for them I guess,” he elaborated, satiating your intrigue. 

“How big?” Leaning forward, bringing notes of sweet herbs and warm incense to his nose, as your eyes widened with excitement. Kaji smiled softly at you, relishing in the genuine human connection he’s missed for… God knows how long at this point. Then, he went on to tell you that it was mostly small animals: birds, rodents, some insects that have survived, and on occasion larger animals (mostly in the winter): deer, coyotes, the occasional bear. The latter, he explained that he’d scare them away from the paths that lead to town, but still let them eat what they needed.

You listened intently, eyebrows shooting up at the mention of bears, and your entire face lit up when he mentioned seeing a butterfly only a few summers back. Seeing Kaji being so open, you took the opportunity to ask about the old town, and he was gracious enough to share. 

He told you about how the town was kind of dangerous back in the day, because of turf wars between people, and how that led to the creation of Bofurin. You observed his face light up and eyes become distant as he regaled the times he had with his friends, even naming and telling you about some of them. Most you already knew from the records - Umemiya, Hiragi, Enomoto, Kusumi - but it was different hearing about them first hand. When he told you about how the townspeople used to depend on them, and celebrated them for protecting the town by giving them treats, you started to understand his reaction from before.

Eventually, as Kaji’s stories petered out, he finally asked what he’s been most worried about. How is the town doing now?

Throwing him a kind smile, you told him everything you could. First you told him about the elders, most of whom were designated to keep and care for the items passed down from Bofurin members. Though he looked happy about it, you still didn’t mention the piece you inherited - Hiragi Toma’s Furin jacket. Next, you mentioned how things were scarce sometimes, but for the most part you all managed, and how the population has actually been growing as of late. He seemed overjoyed by that fact, so you were careful when sharing some of Kiyoko’s fears about resources not keeping up with the new growth. 

Kaji looked perturbed over this and asked why you all couldn’t make more - assuming that the greenery was due to the witches’ magic. With a sad shrug you explained that magic couldn’t fix everything, and that the greenery was a bit of its own miracle that the witches couldn’t really take credit for. At your admission Kaji seemed confused, but also maybe a little happy that it wasn’t the witches’ doing. Though you didn’t ask him outright, after a quiet moment he shared that the original garden was Umemiya’s that was started at least half a century ago at this point. He didn’t know how or why it took over the town, but he was glad that it did because he knew Umemiya would be really happy about it still helping the town. 

“That makes me really happy too,” murmuring earnestly, which earned you a surprised glance from Kaji. “I’m really grateful to you, and the rest of Bofurin. None of us would be here if you all hadn’t fought for us,” you said genuinely with a firm nod. Kaji simpered despite his gruff demeanor before nodding as well, then the bright white moon caught his eye through the window. He hadn’t noticed how high it was in the sky until now.

“Did you sleep at all before coming here?” He asked as his gaze cut sharply to yours. Again, you sheepishly laughed and shook your head. Kaji rolled his eyes at you before moving to pull back the blanket.

“It’s already 3am - go to sleep,” he instructed, his tone slightly admonishing but lacked any true malice. Tittering softly, you crawled up the bedroll and slipped under the blanket. Kaji laid the blanket over you, and then began to settle on top of the bedding next to you.

“What are you doing?” Demanding as you sat up, untucking the blanket completely, Kaji just blinked at you before gesturing at the bed.

“Going to sleep. Like you should be doing,” he admonished you, but his cerulean irises couldn’t hide the amusement from the look of disbelief plastered on your face.

“You said we would share,” arguing petulantly which did elicit a chuckle from Kaji - he didn’t realize you had so much personality. “This isn’t sharing.” Defending your point as you tugged gently on the blanket that was over you and under Kaji for emphasis.

“Do witches not care about their virtue in this century?” Kaji posed with an arched brow. To his credit, he was able to maintain a cool facade as your face turned three shades redder while your mouth opened and closed like a guppy.

“That’s not it!” You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. Kaji stifled a titter at your reaction - it reminded him of Kotoha or Tsubaki. Then your shoulders drooped slightly as you threw him an earnest look before tentatively adding, “it’s just getting close to winter… I thought you’d be cold.”

Kaji was taken aback by your genuine nature, and was unable to hide the surprise on his face - brows raised, wide eyes, lips slightly parted from speechlessness. Quietly he relented with a curt nod as he climbed under the blanket, immediately you tucked yourself into his side, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into his chest. Kaji laid there for a moment before hesitantly wrapping his arms around you as well, pulling you into his embrace. 

Notes of piney-amber incense and earth-smoked musk enveloped your dreams as sleep swiftly claimed you. Kaji laid there silently as your breathing slowed within a few minutes, hot breath puffing into his sweatshirt and warming his chest. That crisp, pencil-like wood scent, accompanied by sweet cinnamon clung to you and filled the space with your soft exhalations. An indescribable amount of time had passed since the last time he had felt such warmth, and even though it had been comfortingly shared between friends, it had also been short lived. But this was different - it felt inexhaustible and safe. 

When Kaji finally drifted off to sleep, his dreams were set in old Furin - patrolling with his friends, but oddly enough he kept catching glimpses of you. Never directly, just a swish of your tunic as you turned a corner, or a flick of your hair through the window of Pothos but when he looked you were gone. Near the end he was certain you were there, somewhere in town, as he desperately trailed after your scent through the streets and down alleyways. He woke before he could find you in his dreams, but his body sagged with relief the moment he found you still sleeping soundly in his arms.

Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4 (links will be added as they are finished)

Master List (I have no rights to these characters, the works they come from, or the art/screenshots/manga panels used in this post. Screenshots taken from pinterest or google, so if you know the creator please lmk! Divider is from @sweetmelodygraphics )

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[staycalmandhugaclone]

Fool's Errand Pt 1

Part (1) of Fool's Errand, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Warnings: Back to some good, ol' whump here. Minor ptsd, blood, broken nose, needles, profanity

WC: 3,183

“Damn it, get down!!”

“I am! Any lower and I'll need a kriffing shovel!” I snapped back, tempted to mute him just to hear myself think.

“I’ve got eyes on her, Cross; just focus on finding us a way in!” Even Echo's voice held the faintest rush of unease.

We'd known this wouldn't be easy. They'd caught someone – some big-name politician I hadn't made much effort to remember, but the Republic deemed them important enough to send us behind enemy lines to get them back.

The Marauder lay hidden nearly a dozen klicks away, nestled amidst brambles and fallen logs until even I struggled to notice it. We’d stolen a pair of Separatist transports to approach the black ops site without raising much suspicion and split up to search the compound faster. Tech and Wrecker infiltrated the northern side, Echo and I came in from the south, and Hunter was on his own along the crumbling remains of the eastern wall with Crosshair posted in the nearby tree line. He’d violently opposed my going in, but we had no means of knowing what kind of state our target would be in when we found them.

The politician was the least of my concerns, though. I’d been on edge since entering those transports. The ping of the metal walkways against our boots, the hum of the engine, even the color of the walls… it was just too similar. But were weren't on Agamar, and I hated how softly the others were stepping around me. I hated even more the undeniable knowledge that I needed them to.

That tension hadn’t lessened as we reached the Separatist black site. It looked abandoned; scarce buildings in such a perfect state of intentional disarray as to almost promise nothing but ancient debris and decades of dust lay within, but Tech's scans confirmed massive power fluctuations underground. It wasn't a huge compound, but it didn't need to be. Barely a half dozen structures remained standing, skeletal framework partially hidden by an overgrowth we now used to our own advantage as we crawled through the dense brush, thorns somehow numerous enough and sharp enough to occasionally find purchase in the slim crescents of skin left unprotected between sections of armor.

Echo and I had just finished sweeping through the second building in search of an entrance to the lower level when the site’s defenses suddenly roared to life. Numerous turrets burst from the soil that, mere seconds prior has shown no trace of anything beyond untouched wilds, and we’d just managed to hide behind a partially caved-in room before being noticed.

I could hear dozens of gears whirring to life just beyond our dilapidated shelter, the harsh crunch of leaves and branches breaking beneath heavy, metallic feet. Droids were flooding the site. We were pinned down by the turrets. And Hunter wasn’t answering his com.

“Can we make it to the next structure?” Echo asked, voice forced into a whisper.

“Not yet.” There was a long moment of silence, and I could feel myself tensing more with each passing second, legs coiled beneath me. “Now!” We were moving before the hushed order fell silent, both crouched so low that we were practically crawling, one hand occasionally darting to the ground in a gate more natural to some forest dwelling beast, but our awkward appearance didn't matter. The half dozen droids mere meters to our right posed little threat in and of themselves, but revealing our presence now might cause untold numbers to swarm. If they had Hunter, our only hope to free him was to keep ourselves hidden.

My legs burned from the effort of keeping up with Echo. He moved as though he’d been born for such things, body stalking preternaturally through tall grass and biting bramble effortlessly, but I still found myself watching him, worried I'd note some hint of a falter in his stride, but whatever strain the motion surely wrought upon his residual limbs was a torture to which he was far too accustomed to show amidst the threat lingering over us.

“Down!” We dropped harshly to the ground, and my every instinct balked at the helpless position. Mere seconds passed before the almost musical chorus of shifting counterweights and metallic limbs raced through the foliage just feet ahead of us. Droidekas. The nervous tension dancing beneath my skin turned to dread in an instant, ice bursting through my chest in a rush of panic. I didn't want to notice the way Echo glanced back toward me, the depth of concern that tiny movement conveyed. The droid presence was no longer a simple annoyance. We were in danger.

Was Crosshair switching between com channels to warn Tech and Wrecker lest their chatter create a lethal distraction? Were they balancing the risk of striking first versus continuing what felt like a doomed plight to remain unnoticed? My lungs ached from the effort of controlling each breath, body eager to fall into the too tempting frenzy of fear.

Echo’s hand flared out, signaling me to move around his left flank before readying his pistol, attention trained toward the sound of machinery falling into formation. I knew at least fifteen meters still lay between us and the next building; knew that he was purposefully placing himself between me and the enemy units; that, even among this squad of elites, Echo was the most capable soldier I could hope to have guarding my back, but, still, I had to grind my teeth against useless objections, abhorred at the very thought of letting him act either as distraction or delay if we were seen.

That fear surged anew at every shuffle of leaves and snap of twigs as I crawled forward, stealing one final glance just as I passed him. He couldn’t see the plea in my eyes, the order begging to scream from lips carefully trapped between ground teeth that he not put himself in danger, but he didn’t have to. With the smallest movement, he looked toward me in kind and offered the faintest nod, and that tiny gesture was enough to push me on.

He waited until several feet separated us before he started after me, and something about that, about knowing he was following just behind me granted me a confidence I had no right feeling, determination numbing me to the burn in my arms as I hauled myself through an undergrowth that showed no sign of the wear it ought to have from the abuse of concealing a Separatist base.

When the ridge of a tattered roof finally jutted above the line of greenery, I couldn’t restrain the deep sigh of relief, but I had to remind myself that any façade of safety feigned by the crumbling walls granted only a fool’s comfort and forced myself to pause just shy of the entrance. Echo didn’t stop until he was nearly flush against my side, and we both waited with bated breath.

“Tech and Wrecker found an entrance. If you don’t find one in there, stay hidden until they report back.” Crosshair’s voice fell into a carefully detached hum. I wanted to respond, to offer some reassurance, but we couldn’t risk even that, so I merely watched in silence as Echo took point once more, waiting for his signal before following him into the derelict structure.

Once, it stood a couple stories high, brick walls more akin to a school than a prison, but there was no sign of such possibilities within any longer. Nature had reclaimed the half-dozen rooms and interconnecting hallways long ago. Ferns draped through shattered windows, and mounds of dirt collected in the corners reached halfway to the ceilings. There was no broken furniture nor remnants of belongings hidden amidst the rubble, and I found myself wondering if it had ever been anything more than this. Had the Separatists built it solely to be abandoned; its fate preordained to ruin from the start purely to act as camouflage for what horrors lay below? I wanted to hate them for it but knew it was fueled by naivety; knew that far more had been wasted for less in this war on both sides and that even more would be lost before there would be any hope of armistice.

Only after Echo stood did I move to regain my footing as well, body still hunched forward in that instinctive drive to hide as we searched each room in turn. When he paused in what must have been the central chamber, attention trained in the corner just to the right of the doorway, I stepped back toward the hall, carefully watching for any signs of encroaching danger, my own pistols at the ready.

“We’re heading in.” Echo stated seconds before the hiss of an airlock screamed through the tense silence.

“Copy.” Crosshair replied shortly. He hated this. I knew he hated this: being forced to wait behind as we tread beyond his sight, beyond his reach should something go wrong, and my heart ached knowing there was no comfort I could offer as I turned to follow his brother down the narrow porthole into what was surely a maze of identical passages designed to be inescapable.

No veneer of color was granted to bare metal walls and exposed purlins overhead, and what few lights flickered within granted only fleeting glimpses of the lifeless passageways. This place was not created for comfort. Every detail was made through cruel intent to rob those trapped here of even the thought of warmth, and I couldn’t force the memory of that filth-stained cell from my mind; the scent of stale moisture and blood and rot.

My stride must have faltered; my pace slowed or breath hitched. Something drew Echo’s attention back to me, and shame sank into my gut like something rancid and squirming, and I couldn’t find the strength to push it back in time to dismiss it entirely.

“You alright?” He whispered it, body leaning carefully over mine as though he could hide me from the nightmare surrounding us, and I hated the fact that I couldn’t bring myself to answer him directly.

“Let’s just get Hunter and the damn politician, and get out of here.” I nearly growled. He hesitated a moment longer, and I wanted to yell; to shout that there wasn’t time for this, to berate myself for causing even this short delay, shoulders pulling back with a determination fueled by the rage I felt toward myself for my weakness. He drew a slow breath before wrenching his focus back toward the long hallway, and a shaky sigh of relief escaped me.

I wouldn’t have noticed the port had Echo not stopped suddenly beside it, needing only to shoot a quick look for me to take watch as he plugged himself in. There was no cover here, nowhere we could hide if a patrol came upon us, and each second we lingered stoked the anxious certainty that we were moments from being found, but I didn’t waver, attention shifting between the direction we’d come from and the path ahead.

“Tech, Wrecker; looks like the target’s in the far west corner. Are you guys near there?”

“We are.” Tech responded quickly. “Have you located Hunter?”

“No, but we’ll head east and see what we can find.” My heart dropped at Echo’s response, and I fought to convince myself that that didn’t mean they didn’t have him; that didn’t mean he was…

Echo disconnected from the port, and I forced myself back to attention. He didn’t say anything more before continuing forward at a quick trot, weapon held loosely before him. Our footsteps boomed around us, mocking our every attempt at quiet. We slowed at every intersection, carefully searching down each hall before crossing. It was a perfect grid, an even number of paces separating each corner for what felt like eternity.

I heard it first. It was wet. An occasional crunch of metal against meat. I knew that sound. I knew the heat of abused flesh swelling beneath the assault; knew they would kill him long before he talked.

My hand was reaching for him before consciously acknowledging the movement; a quick tap on Echo’s shoulder singling him to stop. He needed only to pause before he heard it, too, and I watched his body tense as he reached the same conclusion I had, breath quickening beneath a flare of rage and dread. Without a word, we took off toward the wretched sound. There was a rhythm to it. Two strikes and a pause. Two strikes. Pause. I couldn’t hear what they asked in those fleeting seconds between, but my mind wouldn’t let it remain quiet long enough to wonder.

Who ordered the hit?

I swallowed back the bile that tasted too akin to rancid water.

We barely slowed at crossings now, nearly sprinting through the underground base.

Who placed the bombs?

Two strikes. I could hear him cough in the brief silence that followed, heard the splatter of liquid against metal and knew it was blood.

Echo looked over his shoulder to catch my gaze, to make sure I was ready, before tearing through the door. An alarm blared. The lights flashed a deep red that paled beneath the blue of our blaster fire filling the small cell. His armor was gone, blacks torn where they’d snagged on metal fists. I didn’t count them, nor did I need my overlay’s targeting system as Echo and I stormed the room, both strafing the enemy units in a frenzied rush.

I vaguely noticed the lethal elegance of the man beside me as he dove between a pair of B2s, rolling to his feet behind them, pistol already raised and firing before he’d come to a stop. I ducked to the side just as another droid raised its arm, the wall behind me hissing as metal melted beneath the powerful, crimson shots. It didn’t get the chance to fire again, and I watched with eager satisfaction as the towering machine fell heavily to the floor.

It took mere seconds. I didn’t have time to find a new target before Echo felled the few remaining enemies, sparing only a fleeting thought toward a figure among the metal corpses that was far too soft to belong among the droids, nor did I pause to wonder if it had been my shot or Echo’s that claimed their life. Whoever they were, I was too happy to leave them to rot among the destruction they sowed, attention training instead on Hunter.

Already, Echo was working to sever the bounds securing his wrists to the metal slab behind him, and I rushed forward to catch him as his first arm fell free, wincing at the stifled groan my touch drew from him.

“T… took yuh… long ‘nough.” He slurred, jaw barely moving around the strained words.

“Not our fault you let yourself get caught at a kriffing black site.” Echo retorted, already working on his other wrist.

“S… st’nned m…” His reply broke into an agonizing flurry of coughs, thick drops of crimson smearing across my chest plate.

“Alright, enough – you can make all the excuses you want after I patch you up,” I interrupted, a gentle warning in my hushed voice, “For now, just try to slow your breathing and stay awake, alright?” His head shifted toward me in silent consent, and my worry spiked. He was barely recognizable from the sickeningly wrong angle of his nose, and already his eyes were nearly swollen shut. His ribs were far worse off, however. I could see the heavy bruising through tears in his shirt, could hear the rattle in his every hitched, shallow breath.

“I presume the alarm indicates that you’ve found Hunter?” Tech asked just as the other shackle clicked open. Hunter fell against me with a choked grunt, and I tried not to imagine the pain shooting through his torso.

“Easy; just sit back.” I murmured softly, carefully guiding him to the ground.

“Yeah. He’s hurt, but Doc’s with him.” Echo responded, already treading back toward the door to watch for incoming troops. He paused briefly at the figure lying amongst the droids, but I didn’t see what he did, attention devoted to helping the wheezing man before me.

“Hunter, I want you to focus on me for a bit, okay?” My voice left in a whisper void of the urgency with which I dug through my bag. He hummed some manner of a reply, but I couldn’t make out anything akin to actual speech.

“We located the prisoner, but… it seems we were only given a portion of the information regarding this mission.” I had to stifle a surge of frustration that I could hear mirrored in Tech’s clipped statement as my scanner buzzed to life.

“Great.” Echo groaned.

“We’ll rendezvous at the Marauder and discuss how to proceed. Crosshair, is-” He was interrupted by a violent shockwave tearing through the base.

“That… wasn’t me.” Wrecker said hesitantly after a moment of tense silence.

“All clear.” I nearly scoffed at the haughty pride in Crosshair’s voice before returning my attention to the scan results, stomach twisting as I read over his injuries.

“Looks like you’re gonna live, Sarg.” I managed to tease softly despite my own dread, earning a groan heavy with mock disappointment. “You’re going to be pissing blood for a week, though.” He let out an even less thrilled grunt that drew a quiet chuckle from me. “How about I get some pain killers in you, and you let me help you back to the ship?” His eyelids shifted but weren’t able to fully open. Still, he offered no objection when I laid an autoinjector against his neck, and my worry grew at how quickly his body went limp.

“How is he?” Echo asked, voice tense as he walked back toward us. My gaze caught on a sack thrown over his shoulder. “His armor.” He explained, much to my relief. They hadn’t had him long, so it shouldn’t have surprised me that they wouldn’t have had time to dispose of it, but it was still a stroke of luck that he was able to find it so easily.

“He’ll be alright… but we should hurry.” Even through our opaque visors, I knew he felt the intensity with which I held his gaze, that he understood the truth behind my carefully even reply. He gave a small nod and dropped to a knee at Hunter’s other side.

“Hey, brother, think you can hold on to me?” My lips pulled into a small smile at the gentleness of Echo’s deep voice, the care in his movements as he eased Hunter’s arm over his shoulders. I threw my bag back on and followed suit with his other arm.

“Mmm… m’alri’.” His dismissal faded into a barely audible mumble as we pulled him upright, head slumping toward his chest.

“Those drugs won’t last long.” I warned quietly. Again, Echo responded with a short nod, and, together, we began the lock trek back toward an exit I doubted I’d ever find without him.

Next Chapter

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[christotokos]

in the dollhouse

the outsiders + forbidden game | dalpony, omegaverse | mature | chpt. 5/12 major canon divergence, ensemble cast, surprise ships. | total work wc: 21k+

Indeed, it is their neighborhood that Ponyboy can see in front of him, his feet settling not on the inside of a home – it's the paved street instead. All of it is something he's always seen in their cramped, poor part of town: the familiar rows of houses, the normal landscape surrounding it full of wildlife, the trees stretched towards the sky, and sometimes he thinks he can see a dog or a cat roaming about. Everything about it seems normal as than ever as he looks around. At least until Ponyboy looks a little longer, picking up on odd little details as he and Dallas walk on: odd shadows impressed upon buildings; cars that had rolled down the hills and smashed into trees with overgrowth on them that looked substantial; an odd whiteness to things that felt strange, and last of all was that there wasn't a sound to be found, or to be made. Even though dogs race past him, even though Dallas is turning around, the wind ruffling his brown hair, there isn't a single sound being made in all of the landscape. There is no sound of his or Dallas' footfalls on the pavement; birds that Ponyboy can see don't chirp; the flap of their wings doesn't register to his ears; when the wind whistles through the trees, he doesn't hear a single rustle of leaves

[delicatefade]

WIP Wed: "I don't love it?"

Another wed, another excerpt from my kissy kissy elves draft. Dragon age setting, but it’s all OCs. My OC is Eilan Lavellan and @bluewren’s OC is Lex Lavellan.

Lex had been gone for 7 months. He returned earlier that day. He and Eilan spent the day with their clan. This is their first evening together, alone. CW: Kissy wissy? Questionable facial hair? WIP Wed tagging @inquisimer @bluewren @mrslyncx @breninarthur @nirikeehan@theluckywizard@monocytogenes@sunshowerdandelion@narravero@varric-tethras-editor@melisusthewee@rosella-writes@warpedlegacywrites wc: 622

Unwed Dalish youths were not given tents. They had to make do with nature’s hidden alcoves. Luckily, Lex and Eilan knew just the spot, the very same clearing in the woods that had witnessed their love blossom a year ago. The walk from camp to the clearing would have taken all of ten minutes were it not for their frequent stops. “Gods I missed your touch,” she whispered. Their lips were raw from kissing. He had her pinned against a tree, his body pressed against hers.

He cupped her face in one hand — she loved it when he did that. He must have known for he did it often. Lex looked at her like she was the most precious and beautiful thing he had ever seen, though he had never said as much in so many words. She told herself that if forced to choose between that look or those words, she would choose that look. His thumb tugged on her lower lip. She mewled softly. His hands fumbled with the layers she wore. Their breaths made little plumes in the frost of early spring. “The clearing,” she panted, cheek to cheek. Twenty minutes and four amorous detours later, they reached the clearing. Tempting as it may have been to tear off each other’s clothes and make love with abandon, they had learned after many months of meeting in the wilds in all kinds of weather that a little preparation went a long way. The ground had not yet thawed. The night would plummet into a chill. The forest’s proximity to a shemlen city meant that precautions needed to be taken against potential human threats. They worked together to prepare the camp. Lex set down a thick mat to shield them from the cold earth. Eilan contributed an extra wide scarf that doubled as a blanket. Their old fire pit was still there, though a little worse for wear. Lex tended to it, commanding the overgrowth to clear with an arcane whisper. As he did so, Eilan activated the warding runes that they had carved a year ago into the trees that ringed the clearing. She thought of making a joke, that they should get married if only to claim a tent at camp and make love whenever they wished. She thought better of it. Lex lit the fire pit with a burst of magic. The flames roared and burned without fuel. He sat on the mat and guided Eilan to sit astride his lap. In the firelight they looked at each other, smitten anew. He tucked a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. That enamored look returned to his eyes. “What?” she said coyly. “What?” He smiled at her flirtation. “That look.” “What look?” She shrugged one shoulder cheekily. “That look.” Lex tipped his head to the side, seemingly confused. Eilan’s brows lifted expectantly, as if by pretending that what she spoke of were obvious would make it so. Lex chuckled. “What, babe?” Never mind. She relaxed out of her expectant posture and masked her disappointment by stroking the patchy stubble on his chin. “What about this?” He rubbed the thin wisp of hair. “I’m thinking of growing it out.” Elves were not known for their ability to grow facial hair, and Lex, for all his talents and looks, was no exception. “Oh!” Her smile froze in place. “Really?” “Woooow! You hate it!” Lex laughed. “No-no! Well, it’s just that—” “Oh you really, really hate it.” Eilan winced and confessed regretfully, “I don’t love it?” He laughed harder. “Alright, miss hard-to-impress. Message received. Let’s see what you think of your gifts.” “Gifts, plural.” “Mhm.” He wagged his brows triumphantly as he pulled his pack closer. “Okay, gift number one.”

[piesti-cats]

Update

So my plans for this blog have taken the back burner because of craziness in life, etc etc HOWEVER. I have pursued writing my fanfic over the past like two years and have decided to just make a blog dedicated to it. The first part is completely posted to ao3 but I will also be working on uploading it to tumblr over the next couple days, then updating it with the second part as it’s being written. I’ll be keeping everything pertaining to the story on the side blog, including any doodles I do, and keep this blog just for canon warriors stuff. I’ll occasionally be active on here when I do canon stuff but for now I’m focusing on my own ocs and story.

TL;DR, I created an OC blog for my fanfic here, @overgrowth-wc. Feel free to check it out!

[odiwtbl]

Not My Pool | Eddie Munson

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: None really. Slight swearing? Trespassing?

Author's note: trying to make up for the lil sad Eddie piece from yday :) Also I’m still not used to writing for Eddie so idk if it’s any good. Also also, not beta’d

Wc: 2215

---

“Eddie are you sure this is a good idea?” You hissed as you snuck closer to the treeline.

It was the first week of summer and Eddie, your best friend, had somehow convinced you to literally trespass and sneak into Steve Harrington’s pool. The woods you were both running through were dark, everything was quiet except the low hum of the nighttime bugs, adrenaline softly running through you gradually getting more intense the closer you got to the other boy's house.

The soft lights from the pool shone through the gaps in the trees before you, blacking out Eddie’s silhouette. “Stop being such a pussy, come on” The metalhead urged. He turned and reached out behind him, grabbing your upper arm and pulling you forward so you were next to him. His hand moved down your arm to your hand, intertwining his fingers with your own.

“What if his parents catch us? What if they call the police?” You rambled, butterflies making a home in your stomach.

Eddie just turned to face you, half of his face lit up in the soft blue light. He grinned at you, eyebrows raised, eyes shining. “Then we run.”

The small town of Hawkins had been suspended in a thick heat for the past month now. The kind of heat that constantly lingers no matter what you do to try and alleviate it, which is the only reason you had agreed to Eddie’s stupid plan, but that was thirty minutes ago, and this is now, and only now are you realising how dumb this is.

Eddie had been getting you into trouble for the past year since you joined Hellfire, and since you had become good friends. It was known that if Eddie was somewhere, you were close by, ‘like an Ettin’ Dustin and Mike would always say. The boy had brought you so far out of your comfort zone. You weren’t super shy, to begin with, but compared to Eddie Munson you may as well have been a dormouse. An unexpected friendship bloomed between the two of you, no one in Hellfire truly expected it, and neither did you or Eddie; but opposites do attract, apparently.

Stumbling your way through the last bit of overgrowth, the two of you reached the soft grass of Steve’s garden, the pool only a few metres away. The lights weren’t on in the house, 3 am wasn’t the typical time the Harrington family were up and about. Eddie dropped your hand, instead reaching for the hem of his Guns N Roses tee, pulling it over his head and fluffing up his hair in the process. You giggled as he shook his head back and forth, trying to lay his curly hair back into place. “How do I look, M’lady?” His eyes gleamed at you, a soft smirk appearing on his lips.

You huffed out a laugh, “Like a dumbass.” You jabbed, playfully shoving his shoulder. Eddie feigned hurt, holding his hand over his chest. He took a step toward you. Then another. And another, and before you could react he had scooped you up and walked you over to the edge of the pool. “Eddie, don’t you dare!” You looped your arms around his neck as a safety measure, but pulled back to look at his face.

“Tell me I look handsome.” Eddie flashed you a mischievous grin.

“Nuh uh. No way,” You shook your head, “Bribery isn’t the way to go Munson.”

He held your body out over the pool. “Just tell me what I wanna hear and nobody has to get wet.”

“Eddie I am not playing. I don’t wanna get my jeans wet!”

“Then say the words, princess.” He fake dropped you by an inch, laughing at your squealing.

“Fine! Fine! You look handsome, Eddie Munson.” You deadpanned.

“Oh come on, you can do better than that.” You glared at him while he only smiled back at you with all his teeth on show.

“…You are the most handsomest, most beautiful, most amazing person in this stupid town,” You raised your eyebrows at him, “Better?”

“Much”. Eddie spun around and placed you down on the ground, turning back to the pool to step out of his own jeans. An idea presented itself to you, one that would have been criminal if missed. You reached out and tapped Eddie’s shoulder, making him look at you, and as he did so you pushed his shoulder once more, harder this time, till he tipped back and fell in the pool.

He resurfaced, hair stuck to him, a look of shock on his face. “You little minx.” You just shrugged over him, returning the playful grin he had given you earlier.

“Game’s a game, Munson.” You pulled your own clothes off, top first, and then shimmied out of your jeans, leaving you in your underwear, his gaze on you the entire time. “You can stop staring though.”

Eddie chuckled, pushing himself softly to the edge of the pool. “Game’s a game.”

You sat down, your legs next to him in the water, Eddie leant on his arm looking up at you. “Are you coming in or what?” You looked up at the stars, a content sigh left your lips. This is where you want to be. Now and forever. “What’s got you looking like that?” Eddie poked your thigh causing goosebumps to rise at his touch.

You slid yourself over the edge and into the pool, with a little less than a splash, treading the water and turning yourself so you were face to face with the boy.

“I’m just… really happy right now.” You looked at the boy opposite you. Like, really looked at him. The bottom parts of his hair were floating in the water, the rest of it damp and strung around his face. The lights in the pool lit up his flyaways, creating a blue halo around Eddie. Drops of water clung to his skin, on his face and down onto his collarbones. His freckles were more prominent now from the days spent out in the sun together. You could see his eyes tracing over your face, the hint of a smile lingering on his lips.

“Are you looking at my lips, y/l/n?” You watched as his smile grew.

“Why did you have to ruin the moment, Eddie? It was about to get deep, I could feel it.” You laughed.

“Yeah well, I’ll ruin any moment if it means I get to see you laugh.”

“You’re a dork.”

“Jerk.”

“Idiot.”

“You love me.”

“Do I, Eddie?”

“Yes.”

“And you’d know that how?”

“Because I see the way you look at me.”

It felt like the air had been sucked out of your body. Like you were choking on the pool water without even being submerged. “I-I don’t- I, uh-” You stammered.

“Am I wrong?” Eddie just looked at you, plain and simple. Normally you could read every emotion that crossed his mind, but as of right now there was nothing to go off of. You couldn’t even hazard a guess.

“O-of course, I love you, Eddie. You’re like, my best friend?” You laughed it off, even though you could feel your cheeks heating up.

Eddie tilted his head, one eyebrow raised, staring down into your eyes. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He waited a few seconds, each one that passed felt like an hour to you. He moved his hand to your chin, lifting your face to look at him. Your heart hammered in your chest, soft waves of adrenaline passed through you. “If I’m wrong I’ll drop it. Just, tell me I’m wrong.” He spoke softly.

You looked at the man in front of you. The man you had been looking at for past year. The man that had helped you learn D&D, the man that had brought you out of your comfort zone more than anyone had, the man that had taught you how to really have fun. The memories of you both laughing together flashed through your minds eye, you could see the time you had watched Nightmare on Elm Street and it ended up in you throwing popcorn at each other in his trailer. Or the time you had gone to Starcourt and Eddie stole some twizzlers for you. Or the first time you stayed back and helped him pack up after a long D&D session and he drove you home, leaving you with an Iron Maiden cassette to listen to.

“Eddie.. I- I don’t know what to say.” You frowned lightly.

“Nah it’s cool, my bad.” Eddie dropped his hand from your face, and pushed himself off the wall of the pool, and away from you. “I shouldn’t have assumed!” He called out from the opposite side.

Your shoulders dropped, a soft sigh escaping your body. “Eddie, can you come back here.” He looked at you for a beat, before dipping under the water. What a child, you thought to yourself.

You pushed yourself off from the wall also, following suit, and diving under the water towards him. Eddie was sat cross legged at the bottom of the pool, cheeks puffed out filled with air. His hair was drifting up around him, making you giggle slightly. You swam forward, kicking your legs to reach him faster.

You sat opposite him underwater, just looking at each other. Everything around you was blue, Eddie’s entire warm colour palette taken over by the colour. You reached out and pushed his cheeks together, the air he held in them rushing out in bubbles to the surface, but he stayed at the bottom staring at you. Using your whole body, you mimed a huff, emphasising the action so he could understand your annoyance.

Reaching out and grabbing both of his hands, you kicked up and pulled the both of you to the surface. The two of you gasped for air as you broke from the water. “Can you just- listen to me.” You panted.

Eddie nodded, but looked everywhere but your face. This time you reached forward and grabbed his chin, pulling his face to look at you. “That’s better.” You flashed him a sarcastic smile. “Eddie, I don’t know what to say, because I’m not- I- I don’t. This kind of stuff doesn’t happen to me.” Eddie’s expression grew quizzical, but he didn’t speak, allowing you to continue talking. “I’m just… me. And I’ve never had anyone like me. Not even in that way! I didn’t have friends before Hellfire, I didn’t have a best friend before you, I didn’t know what it was like to have people just, like me. And I think you’re amazing, and so funny, and really cool but-”

“-But I’m Eddie Munson.” He cut you off.

“-But you’re the Eddie Munson. And I think I do like you in that way, but I’m scared that I’m not enough for you.” You finished, still holding onto his face, but now you were looking down.

A small silence fell over the both of you, the night air filling the space. The sound of the water filter running in the back the only prominent noise that could be heard. Your heart rate was picking up again, that adrenaline filling your veins once more. You shivered as the night air cooled off some of the water on your skin. The time passing was unbearable but you were too scared to move, to say anything more. You didn’t want to ruin anything. But before you could think of anything else Eddie began to speak. “I’m Eddie the Freak,” You looked up at him, it looked like he could start crying at any moment, “and you’re- you’re you.” It was your turn to look at him in confusion now, “You’re this pure creature that fell into my path, and don’t get me wrong I’m so happy you’re not, but I thought you’d be long gone by now. I didn’t want to, corrupt you, ruin you. I just wanted you to be happy. And then you stuck around, and I got to know you and-” He cut himself off.

A few hot tears had fallen over your cheeks. You didn’t know why you were crying, but something in you just felt so loved.

“Can I kiss you?” Eddie pulled himself closer to you, until your bodies were against each other under the water.

You didn’t reply, instead just closing the gap between you, your lips centimetres apart. You could feel Eddie’s breath fanning across you face, and you were fairly certain you could hear his heart pounding. Or maybe it was yours, you were too spaced out to care.

Eddie moved the rest of the way, placing his lips over yours. It was soft and sweet, and you could feel everything that he wanted to say, that he didn’t have to now. You smiled against him, moving your arms to rest on the sides of his neck. He pulled back and leant his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes, that mischievous look back where it belongs.

Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but just as he started all of the back porch lights flicked on.

“HEY! GET OUT OF MY POOL BEFORE I CALL THE COPS!”

“We should run.”

---

[overgrowth-wc]

Hello! So after days of editing, the rest of Overgrowth is all queued up and ready to go. It is also available in it’s entirety here on ao3, if you just want to read it all now. Posting it all to tumblr is just to cover my bases and get ready for the release of Pyrophyte, the prologue of which will be posted tomorrow once the queue runs out. I’m looking forward to sharing the concluding part of the story with y’all!

[misspearly1]

Millers Retreat

Chapter Three

Chp1 || Chp2 || Chp3 || Chp4 || Chp 5 ||

Pairing: Joel Miller x Y/N (f!reader)

WC: 4k

Warnings: Not a whole lot for warnings. A little bit of Fluff. Definitely angsty vibes & dark themes surrounding the story to 'Bobby' which in turn makes the Miller's a little sad. There's not a whole lot mention Y/N in thus one peeps, more focus on The Miller brothers.

AN: Okay, in regards to the warnings above, this fic is practically a look into the work that Tommy and Joel are doing, it's not all doom and gloom, the angsty stuff is towards the end. I promise we will get to all of the fluffy/smutty parts in the next chapter. Hope you enjoy, my lovelies <33

It’s currently day three into Joel’s and Tommy’s ‘fishing trip’, their last day, and the work still continues, but let’s look back at what they’ve accomplished so far.

Day One

On the first day, it took the brothers a lot longer than they anticipated to get the thick green vines off the two stationary homes properly, even then, the dug well and the surrounding area was heavily covered too, so that took up even more of their time.

Tommy had come across an old newspaper clipping inside the overgrowth, dated back twenty years ago with the heading of ‘Evacuation Procedures Now Underway; death toll in the thousands.’

The brothers looked at that clipping and remembered that some towns and cities got a heads up before the virus hit, unfortunately most didn’t. And it seems as though the town nearby got that heads up and considering Bobby had the newspaper clipping here, Joel wondered if the man left with his family when it was advised.

This place certainly looked like someone had left in a hurry, or as if a storm of infected had blown through it. Pocketing that clipping along with the postcard that he found on the tree, Joel and Tommy shoved their thoughts aside for now and got back to work.

After they had hacked away at every possible blockage covering the caravans, the older Miller put on his garden gloves and began piling it all up to be discarded, grabbing handfuls in his hands and transporting it to a large pile just outside of camp.

As the area around the caravans started to become clearer, he noticed something else under one of them. It was a book, a journal. Pulling it out and reading the cover, Robert Kennedy, the diary belonged to none other than Bobby himself.

Joel didn’t bother opening it up to read the contents inside, but he didn’t throw it away either, instead, he left it to one side to maybe read later and got back to work again. Once his task at hand was dealt with, they both moved on to thoroughly searching all four caravans, to gather up everything that is useful.

One of the caravans that was under the ivy was locked tight and the brothers couldn’t get it open. It was nearing midnight and they left it for now, deciding that they would come back to it the next day.

They both felt accomplished for all the work they had done today, especially after seeing all the difference they have made. Today, they had found three artefacts of information about Bobby and this caravan site, cleared up all the ivy and rubbish in the camp, uncovered the water well, which was sealed, and the place was looking a hell of a lot better since this morning.

So, at eleven pm at night, Tommy and Joel finally sat down after tending to the horses.

Joel did end up getting that chair from Tommy. He sat on it, feet kicked up on the table with a smug smirk to his face and a small fire in the middle of camp. They were tired and hungry, exhausted after the day's activities but it could either only get worse or easier from this point onwards.

Tommy grabbed the bubbling pot from the fire over to where his brother was sitting, he had cooked some tinned meaty soups, quick and easy to whip up and eat along with a few cut up slices of bread that he brought from home.

They both ate in silence, underestimating how hungry they actually are and while soup can sometimes be boring, this soup tasted delicious. After they ate, Joel grabbed his walkie to have a quick goodnight call with his girl, Y/N.

“Baby, it’s me Joel. Are you awake?” He started off the conversation, standing up from his chair and patting his brother on the shoulder to say goodnight then headed into one of the only two habitable caravans in camp.

“Hey, love, yeah I am. Barely, but I’m awake,” her voice croaked through the walkie tiredly after a few moments. Joel didn’t mean to leave it so late at night, he and his brother got carried away with the work, wanting to get a huge chunk done on their first day.

“I’m sorry, girl, I didn’t wake you up did I?” He plopped down on the edge of the bed, kicking off his shoes and tossing himself back with a wide smile across his face. It was comfy and her voice was homey to his ears. Joel missed Y/N at that moment and he expressed that to her in between a yawn, “I’m laying down right now, wish you were here with me darlin.”

There was a couple seconds that passed before she came back through the walkie, giggling, “You made me yawn too, but no, you didn’t wake me,” Joel smiled on this side, waiting for her to reposition herself in bed after clearly hearing her shuffle around in the sheets, “I miss you too, handsome. How’s it going out there?”

Doing the same thing as Y/N, Joel repositioned himself in his bed and got under the covers, wishing that he could tell her exactly how things are going out here, but he lied again, “Really good. We caught some steelhead and ate it tonight for dinner. How’s things over there?” He tried to steer the topic of conversation.

Y/N, as well as Joel, was in a position of wanting to tell the truth, but she made a promise to Maria not to say anything yet about Tommy, and she lied too, “The usual, baby. Tea with Maria this morning, I cleared up some of the weeds from the garden and fed the plants,” Joel listened to her voice trailing off about all the things she has done today, making him miss home that much more.

Bringing his hand up behind his head, he rested the walkie on his chest with closed eyes, smiling whilst picturing her face telling him all of this. She finished off with a question, asking Joel if he is staying safe out here, to which he replied saying, “Always, babydoll.”

They chatted more over the radio, sinking further into the mattress and warming up under the covers, until Y/N yawned again and Joel looked at his watch, seeing as the time was nearing one am now, he suggested that they get themselves to sleep.

It took a further half hour for either of them to finish up the call, not wanting to be the last one to say goodnight and after setting the walkie down by his side, he thought that the conversation was over with, but his lady wanted to have the last say and her sweet voice crackled through, whispering, “I love you, Joel Miller.”

He chuckled to himself, mumbling into the covers that he loves her too and turned over to get some sleep. If he picked up that walkie, they wouldn’t ever get off the call, he knows that as well as her.

Day Two

On day two of their trip, Joel and Tommy started their day with bagging up all of the rubbish that was left in a pile at the side of camp and taking it far enough away. Just a quick fix for now, but they do need to find a solid way to rid the rubbish properly for future vacations.

It was roughly a fifteen minute walk outside of camp that they took, coming across a spot to lay out the piles of rubbish that they were dragging along, it was a large clearing inside the thick canopy of trees, and as the men came to a stop, they thought the wave-like sound was from the wind blowing, but it wasn’t. It was water.

Leaving the rubbish where they stood, Joel and Tommy followed the sounds until they came across a river but that wasn’t all they found. The brothers were overjoyed to also find a waterfall. They’ve uncovered another water source, a place to bathe and a place to have fun.

Making the most out of this discovery, the two of them decided to take a dip. They could only clean themselves with a rag and some bottled water yesterday, so today, they’re going to take a bath in the river and get themselves thoroughly cleaned.

After they were stripped down to just their underwear, they quickly headed inside the water and laughed when the other one hooted with the cool temperature.

It was cold at first and Tommy yowled boisterously, eliciting his older brother to laugh at him, but he too found it cold and he thought that the best option was to yell out childishly before throwing himself under completely.

With the sun at its peak in the sky above, it took seconds for either of them to feel the warmth and soon, the chill was gone. Joel popped up from the surface, looking up to the top of the waterfall and wondering if the water was deep enough below to jump in.

Swimming up the river and checking it out for himself, he dove back under the surface and swam below the riverbed. Joel couldn’t even see the bottom, he swam and swam until he finally felt the rocks, and he estimated it to be around fifteen to twenty foot deep.

Coming back up again, he could hear Tommy yelling for him and he hurriedly yelled back, “I’m ok. Just checking how deep.”

“Deep enough to jump off?” The younger man asked, to which his elder brother replied, “yeah, it’s deep enough.”

Swimming back down to his original position, Joel and Tommy indulged in the water for five more minutes, before getting back out and sitting on the side, using the heat and the light of the sun trickling through the trees to dry them off.

They should have brought towels, but they didn’t even contemplate on finding a river out here, either way, it didn’t take them long to dry off as they chatted together in the sunlight.

“This is great, isn’t it? Maria, Ellie and Y/N are gonna love it,” Tommy chirped, while shaking his head like a shaggy dog, droplets splashing everywhere from his blonde long hair.

He reminisced about all the times he used to do this stuff when he was younger with Joel. The memories that they made together. It makes Tommy giddy to make more with his wife, with his brother and his daughter, and maybe even some kids of his own one day.

Getting ahead of himself, he thought about some of the things he could add to this place too, some more tables and chairs, maybe built a little hut of some sort for his family to get dried and dressed properly and privately, with towels.

Joel smiled after seeing his brother clearly in a happy train of thought. He watched the water roll up the side of the riverbank in which he sat upon and nodded to Tommy, “yeah. They’re going to love this place.”

After a couple moments of silence, both brothers just enjoying the comforting peace of nature, Joel stood and grabbed his clothes that were draped over a branch, “They’re going to love it when it’s done, so let's get back to it, bro.”

Taking a mental note of this location and how to find it to himself, Joel began getting himself dressed and Tommy did the same. They headed back to camp and got back to work. Cutting down trees with the chainsaw and then cutting them into smaller pieces after that.

They are going to use this wood in the future for fires or crafting new tables and chairs, mostly for now it’s just clearing the place up and making it look new. That task alone took them well into the evening.

Those trees weren’t so little and the brothers had to be safe about it too of course. When he was satisfied that they had enough wood and had cut down enough trees, Joel started clearing away all of the remaining debris from the dug well.

Thankfully the cover was still placed over the top, otherwise it would be contaminated by now after twenty years. It needed to be cleaned off with water before they opened it, so Joel and his brother had to unravel the bucket from the rope and use it to collect water from the river.

They remembered finding a couple large empty canisters from searching the caravans yesterday, so they grabbed them as well. Finding two long sticks with some rope, they attached the canisters to each of them, along with the single bucket to make it easy when carrying back.

That took some time to do, Joel’s body aches with hard labour, he hasn’t worked this much since his younger days alongside Tommy on the construction site. He liked it. It felt productive and purposeful, but boy did he feel his age.

Secretly, he felt better knowing that Tommy was feeling his age too. He may be the eldest but he ain’t the only old guy here either. Just as if the young man knew what he was thinking about, Tommy shook his head and tutted, “I know. I gotta stay in shape.”

Joel, once again, found himself laughing and bonding some more over this project with his brother.

When they got back to camp, Tommy took half of the water they retrieved to the fire to boil while Joel grabbed some of the cleaning items. With a brush held in hand, he swept away all of the dirt and grime on the outside of the well.

The brick was stained green, which shouldn’t cause much of a problem, but still, he wanted to clean everything just to be sure. It was dusty as hell, covered in green soot that caused him to sneeze a couple times too.

When the water was boiled, Tommy brought it over and used the clean water to wipe everything down. Now that that was out of the way, the both of them started sliding the concrete top off halfway. Joel was thrilled and even a little surprised to see water inside.

Using the remaining water from the canisters that they collected, they used hot water, bleach and scrubbers to clean the caravans thoroughly. Leaving the one that was locked to last, which they still need to get round to opening.

By the time the two men came to that particular caravan to clean - after cleaning the outside and inside of the other three - dark skies had already rolled in but they wanted to try and get it open before calling it a night just yet.

Tommy climbed up on the side to reach the latch for the sunroof but as soon as he peered through the foggy window, the man slung himself back with a fright, “Joel, someone is in there!”

“What?!” Joel fretted. Climbing up the side of the caravan just like Tommy did, he came up beside him and wiped away the dust with a rag. Looking inside, he grimaced and held a hand onto his stomach, “he’s dead. Whoever it is, they’re dead.”

Turning around and looking at his brother, Joel shook his head, “Don’t open this thing up, I think that’s Bobby in there.” The older Miller didn’t want to disturb this caravan, as it is in fact, a tombstone.

Jumping back down to the ground below, Tommy had an inkling to look around for something, maybe another clue to tell them that the corpse lying in the bed inside, is in fact Robert Kennedy.

“Joel, c’mere,” He called out to his brother after walking around the back and holding a flashlight up to the writing that was written along the side.

Tommy felt sick with grief, almost too much grief when Joel came round and read the words out loud, “I’m sorry to whoever finds me like this, I couldn’t wait for their return any longer. To Jenny and my kids, I love you in this life and the next.”

That corpse inside the caravan is Bobby, and his family never made it to their six week vacation, probably didn’t even make it to the airport.

Day 3

That brings us to now. On their third and final day of their restoration project.

After they found Bobby in the caravan last night, both of the men felt too unsettled to carry on with their work at that moment. They needed to take care of him, respectfully.

Taking themselves to bed, Joel only had a quick chat with his lady compared to the night before and after he said goodnight, and that he loves her, he turned over to get some shut eye. Their sleep in the caravan last night was emotionally uncomfortable.

The silence was relaxing, just an occasional bird here or there making its call but the notion of knowing what is sitting beside them just a couple feet away was eerie and depressing. Joel needed to move that caravan away from camp, but he wanted to be respectful to Bobby.

Today is their last day to get as much done as they possibly can before making their way home in the early hours of the morning tomorrow. Three nights is all they could buy themselves and it’s time to get back home to their families.

Waking up extra early today at five am, Joel left Tommy in bed for a little bit longer while he went outside to see what was left to do for the day, but instead, he took a seat at the table after making himself a cup of coffee and decided to read Bobby’s journal, to better understand the fellow.

He smiled and even laughed at some points from what the man wrote. Telling the tale of the happiest events in life with his wife and children. There were pictures too. Joel saw what Bobby looked like and he could feel the joy he held through a simple photograph.

Dark haired, dark beard, small and stocky, the man wore the biggest smile Joel has ever seen. He was standing beside his wife, presumably Jenny, and two young kids. One girl and one boy.

Jenny had red hair, fair skin tone with visible freckles, her smile just as big as her husbands, the kids just the same. All of them looked like your typical happy family and Joel could feel the love they had when looking at each of their faces.

Flicking over to the next page, he came across Bobby’s entries days before the outbreak.

~ 09.15.13 - I've just got here, at the campsite and I’m so excited. I can’t wait for the kids to arrive and see it too. I miss my Jenny a lot but she’s up in Colorado at the moment to bring her parents down here too. Let’s get this place set up for them.

Joel’s eyebrows rose with surprise when reading the first passage, poor Bobby only wanted to rent this place out for the summer for his family and decided to come out early to get it prepared while his wife retrieved her parents.

The man wouldn’t have imagined that the world would come to an end not even then days after. Curiosity pulled on Joel to read more, to learn how Bobby’s fate came to be.

~ 09.20.13 - This place is amazing, there's a waterfall nearby and the kids are coming out in six days, so that’s the first place I’m taking them. I got a postcard from Jenny today, the date is set, the 26th is when they fly out here. I paid for the deluxe package, not realizing that it comes with four caravans. Maybe I’ll let the kids have one each. Maybe.

There’s an ache in Joel’s chest while reading. He envisions Bobby through his words. The man sounded like a great father, a great husband and great son in law who only wanted the best for his family.

~ 09.21.13 - I went into town today, more and more people seem to be leaving because of this virus that’s hit the eastern seaboard of America. Hm weird. I should call Jenny and see if her flight is still good to go just in case.

~ 09.21.13 - Update, I called her, flights are all good.

Joel takes the newspaper clipping out of his pocket and looks at the date written on the bottom, it states, 09.23.13. Two days after this passage Bobby had put into his journal, which has a sizable gap until his next. He flicked over to the next page and the date that was written, surprised Joel. Bobby hadn’t written in almost two years.

~ 09.26.15 - I haven’t seen this journal since I last wrote in it, two years ago, and what a two years it has been. My family never arrived. The day of their flight, was the day the world ended, the day my world ended. I left camp as soon as I heard on the radio that people were being evacuated and I went straight for the airport, to try and get home. Everything was locked down. Jenny wasn’t picking up her phone. So I drove. I drove home, but my home wasn’t there anymore - my family wasn't there. Now two years on, I still can’t find them. I have been searching everyday and found my way back to this place. I don’t know why but I just kinda feel them here with me.

Joel had found himself hunched over, head practically in the book reading Bobby’s words. This is someone's life, yet it feels like a novel, like it simply cannot be real, but it is. Joel has seen these things in his life and he has lived through this man's loss.

His heart aches for Bobby, and for himself, but he must read on, to find out what had happened to him.

~ 12.25.15 - It’s Christmas today and I got stumbling down drunk before the sun came up. Why the fuck not? It’s not that I give a shit about what happens to me anymore. So fuck it. Let’s get drunk.

-

I’ve been staying in one of the caravans, trying to live I guess but I can’t go into the others, they were for my family. I can't handle the pain so I’m going to have a drink instead.

-

Where are they?

-

Why can’t I find them?

-

I can’t do this anymore.

-

Joel read every entry, each without dates, and slowly saw this man losing his mind. Totally overwhelmed with the loss of his family, which he understands. The next entry that Joel read from Bobby, was his last.

~ 09.26.16 - It’s been three years since I last saw my family alive, since I last kissed my wife and kids on the forehead. Three years marks the day that the world ended and took the people that I love most with it. If this journal finds anyone then this is my last message. I want to be with my family. Is it wrong for a father to want to be with his kids? A husband to be with his wife?

This camp was meant for a family and there is none here. Goodbye.

Joel stared down at the words on the page, a gut wrenching ache sitting in his stomach, transporting him back to those days that he lost Sarah. Bobby lost his whole world, and Joel feels that.

He didn’t know at what point his breathing became erratic during his daze, but a hand clamping down onto his shoulder pulled him from it.

Tommy took the book from him and pulled Joel in for a hug. Clasping his hand to the back of his head and holding him tight, the young man hugged his elder brother and assured him without words.

It was raw, emotional and needed. Very much needed, Joel appreciated the embrace - more than Tommy would ever know.

Tagging

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[fandom-monium]

Alive Together - Day 1

Summary: Welcome to the Monsterpocalypse. You’re a lone wanderer trying to survive. Until you meet Joel Dawson and Boy.

WC: 4k

Tag/Warnings: light themes of death and grief?? Cursing but minimal. Slow burn. Enemies to friends to lovers?

AN: MEET CUTE? NO. MEET UGLY.

(Entry 2#3#)

Hungry. I have nothing else to report today except that I, (Your Name), am starving. Grilled spiders and roasted centipedes are starting to get old.

I've mentioned it before and I'll do it again, but I miss home cooked meals. Even Dad's shoddy attempts at recreating Mom's recipes. The last time I think was… nevermind.

It hurts; I barely remember the last time I had dinner with Dad, much less Mom, flashes of the memories I have left blurring. Probably from the tears. I used to cry at the slightest thought of Mom and then Dad. Now my heart clenches whenever I try because I shouldn't have to try to remember my own family. Believe it or not, it’s progress.

Maybe it's my fault. I hadn't bothered to snag any mementos that reminded me of them before fleeing the bunker, like an album or something. There weren't many personal items that they'd given me, now that I think about it. Too much clutter, the Captain said.

Or maybe it's the lack of consistent stimulus to my brain. I can't read as much as I'd like to, mainly because it's too dangerous to be distracted (constant vigilance is an important virtue in this world, if you hadn’t noticed). Most books that I've stumbled across (literally, I tripped over a hill of hardcovers. Not fun. Very painful) were either tattered or worn beyond comprehension, destroyed by rain or monster attacks.

Speaking of, my stomach grumbled. I need to start hunting before it gets dark... and before I attract another monster to myself. Again.

-(Your Name) (Your Last Name)

Day 1 - First Impressions

You shut the journal as an ominous roar thunders in the distance. Heart in your throat, you’re already on your feet, shoving the book into your pack and gathering the rest of your things. Once you’re certain there’s no trace left of you on the roof, you gaze at the neighborhood below, shielding your eyes as you scan for signs of alerted monsters.

Greenery and ruins go on for miles, unperturbed.

It’s high noon, rays of sunlight seeping through the clouds and warming your exposed skin. A gust of wind brushes your face and hair, and you suppress a smile. It’s not everyday the weather is this nice, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d relish in it.

Good thing you do know better.

You trace your path to the hills. The town is a maze of torn down buildings and overgrowth, winding roads littered with abandoned houses and wrecked vehicles, and, of course, hidden monsters. There’s only a couple hours before nightfall, and you’re far from your destination.

Better start walking. You’ve wasted enough time.

You climb down the side of the dilapidated house, dropping to the ground with a thump. If there’s one thing you’ve learned since the start of the apocalypse, it’s that residential areas harbored the most monsters, aside from the cities. Too many alcoves perfect for nesting. It’s safer away from the old world.

Safer, not safe.

You keep to the shadows, avoiding the open whenever you can despite the barren streets, darting between urban remnants. Your heart eventually settles as you scan your surroundings like anything and everything will pounce on you the second you let your guard down. By the time you cross the residential area and asphalt roads bleed into dry fields (from years of neglect, you somberly note), the sun has crept out from behind the clouds and the sky is clear blue.

You find a barn after hours of trudging through shrubs and your sore feet. It looms at the top of the hill leading to a dense forest, tall enough that as you step into its shadow it blocks out the sun. Walking closer, you tense as you scrutinize the place, eyes combing over the immediate vicinity.

Nothing. Nothing moves or breathes. You don’t see or hear a peep. Not from the barn or the woods beyond. It’s completely isolated from the nearby town, a perfect fort.

Or a nest.

You huff; shit like this has happened one too many times and you’d be a fool if you haven’t learnt your lesson by now. You pull out your javelin and approach with caution, leaves and grass crunching under your boots as you take in the chipped paint and boarded up windows, steadily making your way around the decrepit building. You frown at the clear deterioration, unable to spot any visible breaches.

Reaching the front of the barn, you gaze warily at the lone entrance. Tall doors ajar, old boards are still nailed across the slim gap or hanging precariously. As if someone or something pried them off, busted through.

In or out, you can’t tell.

For a moment, you weigh your options. You doubt the place had anything to offer, pillaged long before you stumbled upon it. Hell, there’s probably a monster nesting somewhere inside, or a bunch of monster eggs.

But you need food, supplies, rest. Are you willing to risk your life on the small chance this rickety barn can provide those things?

You stare down the the opening and it stares back, deceptively innocent. But it’s mocking you, you can hear it. Just daring you to walk away. 

You shuffle on aching feet, making your clothes rub against your sweaty skin.

As if on cue, your stomach growls.

Groaning, you adjust your grip on the spear before ducking inside.

You let your eyes adjust to the dark interior. Light seeps through the rotted ceiling and cracks from the boarded windows, enough that you don’t need a flashlight to see the place is deserted. You glance around the huge room, javelin ready as you wait with bated breath, ears straining to hear over your pounding heartbeat.

Nothing. You don’t hear anything, except the trees rustling outside. Nothing shifts or darts out of sight. No signs of life, not even eggs (that you can see).

It doesn’t mean you're clear, but it’s a start.

Biting your lip, you take a careful step, and another and another, your eyes sweeping the room as you tread over straw and debris. You pause mid-step when you catch a pulley system attached to the ceiling. It’s dark, but you recognize its outline. Frowning, you trace its small, thin woven ropes as they split in different directions against the ceiling and walls, hitting and crossing the floor until they disappear under a thick layer of hay.

You raise your foot, gently kicking away the straw. You step back.

A net. A decent sized one by the width of the patch of hay.

You sigh, shoulders dropping in relief. If you hadn’t been cautious you’d never have noticed it.

You make your rounds quickly as you check for resources. At this point, it’s muscle memory for you as you move through the room with silent purpose, efficient and controlled. You dig through every storage unit, every container, pulling open cabinets and drawers, tearing through the floor with precision as you toss aside rusted tools and empty cans, a pit burning in your stomach. You snarl, throwing down another torn rag. It hits the floor with a thud.

You knew this would happen. You know the chances, but after all this time you still feel the crushing disappointment? You let out a shaky breath, nostrils flaring as you attempt to quell your frustration.

You can practically hear your mother snap at you. Don’t let your emotions get the better of you, (Your Nickname), unless you want to die, her stern voice echoes. You unclench your teeth with a sigh.

It doesn’t take long, your anger simmering down with each exhale, and when you’re sure you’re calm enough, you resume your initial task: scavenging the barn. Is it a waste of time and energy? Yes. Will you find anything useful? Unlikely. Are you going to try anyway?

You head for the stairs to the hayloft. Even if there seems to be nothing left, you need to make sure.

A few minutes later, you're sifting through another trunk when a yelp cuts across the dusty air, followed by the shrill sound of grinding metal. You startle, hissing as you bang your head against the trunk lid. Pushing down the throbbing pain, you snatch your spear and clamber down the stairs, stumbling forward as your eyes darting around the dust drifting in the air. Something barks over you and you look up.

Huh. Did not expect that.

You were prepared for a snarling, limb crushing insect. Or maybe a triple jawed mammal. Even a mega-pig. You’ve seen enough of those and managed.

But a dog? More specifically, a dog caught in the net you barely avoided. It’s tangled in the ropes suspended just above your head, gently swaying. It seems it does not care for the swinging because it starts barking again, louder and more urgent than before.

“Ah, poor doggy,” you croon, lowering your weapon. To your surprise, the dog stops and jerks to face you, its dark eyes gleaming in the shadows. You eye the seemingly calm animal. “Now, how did you get here? Were you following me?”

The dog whines, squirming in a sad attempt to escape. Your lips quirk up. Aside from the occasional bird, you haven’t seen a normal animal in what feels like forever, much less a dog. Most regular animals were consumed by monsters or by people for food.

Food. You haven’t eaten.

You study the dog; its dark brown fur, sleek and short, its body small⎼almost medium sized, with pointed ears and a long snout. And by the way it looks at you, it has some intelligence.

Your stomach grumbles, and the creature cocks its head at you, ears forward.

Shit.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” you grimace at the dog, adjusting your hold before aiming the tip at it. “It’s nothing personal, okay? I’m hungry, and you’re the first thing I’ve seen that hasn’t tried to kill me in a while.”

Which isn’t a lie. Hunting is crazy difficult these days. But you swallow as your eyes meet, its stare unwavering like you aren’t pointing a weapon at his little body. Just one motion and you could end its life painlessly (lucky bastard), but your knuckles go white and you grip falters. Why are you hesitating now?

The dog, as if sensing your battle, barks again, this time more composed than panicked, as if trying to communicate with you. You’re grateful you can’t speak Dog. It’s probably saying something like ‘No, you’re better than this’ or ‘Please don’t do this’ or⎼

“Put him down!”

Or that.

Dear Aimee,

Guess what?

I got a dog! And he’s the coolest, his name is Boy.

He saved my life from a giant frog in a pool who tried to eat me with his tongue, and then we hung out in his bus! Man, do we make a great team. We found out that we have a ton in common too. I feel like we can talk about anything.  

You gotta see us out here; we’re like this iconic duo. I don’t know, feels like when we’re together, we’re unstoppable.

“Right, Boy? Boy?” Joel glances at his side, doing a double take. The dog’s gone. His shoulders slump, “Of course, the first friend I’ve made outside and he leaves me. Sounds about right.”

He didn’t think he could gain and lose a friend within the span of two days. This has to be some kind of record.

He jerks when he hears Boy’s faint barking, guiding him as he drags himself back to the old barn they just passed. For good reasons. The decaying barn looks like it’s in need of a new contractor and a paint job… or three. And an exterminator.

God, the surface is terrifying.

Gulping down his dread, Joel crouches to peer through the gaping hole in the wall. This must be where Boy came through. “Whatcha got there?”

The barking ceases, and so does Joel’s heart.

You stand in the dark like an apparition, back turned to him so he can’t make out your features. Your attention is fixed on the shadowed lump hanging over you, and while it’s dark and he doesn’t have a good vantage point, Joel’s mouth goes dry as he seeks out Boy.

Boy woofs again, and Joel’s heart drops. You step closer to the lump.

For a split second, he sees a flash of his mother’s face, her tears streaming down her cheeks.

He doesn’t think; no thoughts, head empty. Blood roars in his ears. His hands tremble. But he doesn’t hesitate, ripping the makeshift crossbow from his back as he scrambles under the opening.

“Put him down!”

He’s not entirely sure what he expects. He’s read enough comic books to understand the situation; the hero drops in to save damsel in distress then proceeds to demolish the bad guys. Technically, he has the upper-hand here. Right?

But realization slams into him. It knocks the air out of him, and he forgets to breathe.

He shouldn’t have barged in like an idiot. He isn’t a hero. He’s nothing like the superheroes in comics and movies and graphic novels. He doesn’t have super strength or speed or highly advanced tech and he sure as hell is not a genius. 

What he does have: a freezing problem.

He’s already lost feeling in his hands, and he almost drops the weapon as you look over your shoulder at him.

On the other hand, you have a pretty clear idea before you face your captor (seeing him now, can you even consider him that?). With the apocalypse, governments crumbled with ease along with laws and morals, so it’d make sense for people to disregard them. You’ve met quite a few… characters, and you’ve chalked it up to these main categories; garbage thieves, sleazy scavengers, and shitty thugs.

In short, humans are selfish creatures. Prepare for the worst.

You’ve thrown down, fought dirty, bartered with them all and still managed to come out on top, the scars across your body a constant reminder. Nothing surprises you at this point.

A fumbling boy though? You mask your amusement, raising an eyebrow as you take him in. The guy, tall and disheveled, blocks the only exit out of this godforsaken place, his red jacket rumpled and dusty like he’s fallen one too many times. However, what nearly sends you is, as he steps further into the light, you bite your lip, his eyes round and small lips pressed together as the crossbow quakes in his hands.

Who let this puppy out of their sight?

“Listen, buddy,” You finally speak, making Joel flinch. Your eyes narrow as his fingers jerk on the trigger. That’s not good. “If you’re gonna point that thing at me, you better know how to use it.”

He sucks in air, clearing his throat as his eyes dart between Boy and you. He cringes when his voice comes out octaves higher than he expected, “Let Boy go.”

“’Boy’?” You glance up, your weapon still raised at the squirming little fellow. “Oh, you mean Dinner?”

“You were gonna eat him?”

You shrug. “Maybe. Depends how this goes.”

“Okay,” Joel swallows, a futile attempt to keep his tone even as nausea sprouts in him. You plan to eat Boy? How can someone eat something so cute? “Let him go, and we’ll leave you alone. How ‘bout that?”

Beads of sweat drip down his temple as his breaths come out shuddered. He’s not used to this; he’s gone from being the chef of his colony to making demands, negotiating with a possible psycho.  He never trained for this! Well, he’d never been trained, period.

What if he says the wrong thing and sets you off, hurting Boy in the process? He might faint⎼no⎼he will faint. He doesn’t think his heart can handle losing more people… or animals. How is he supposed to save Boy? His fingers twitch against the trigger.

You don’t miss it.

“I don't know about that,” You reply, studying him. His hands tremble as they clutch the weapon. He may not be a scavenger or a thief, but that just makes him all the more unpredictable. Goons, you’d expect them to shoot first, ask questions later, but the fact this guy is making an effort to talk? You want to know his angle, his intentions.

Whether it’s good or bad.

“I’m hungry. It’s going to be dark soon, and Boy here,” You jerk your head at the canine, “was unlucky enough to fall into this ol’ trap.”

You watch, withholding a sneer as emotions and thoughts flit across Joel’s face like an open book. It seems a lightbulb goes off because he looks back at you, eyes wide and hopeful. “You want food? I have some in my backpack. If I give it to you, you let him go?”

He tries not to squirm, the little courage he has waning as your eyes bore into him.

“…Put the crossbow and the bag down. Slowly.”

“You too.” You tilt your head curiously as Joel stutters, “Your spear⎼I mean, if you could stop pointing it at my dog. Please.”

Your brows shoot up. Since the moment he entered⎼wait⎼floundered in here, he could not have made it more obvious that he has no idea what he’s doing. If it wasn’t the way he carried that exposed him, it was definitely his facial expressions, and if not his face, you can hear it trickle through the cracks in his voice. Yet despite how unfair the situation is for him, he’s trying to cover his terror. Failing miserably but trying. All for this cute, little doggy.

And he said please. You ignore the way it warmed you, his tone so…. genuine.

Manners, sincere or not, in the face of danger? You have to respect that.

“It’s a javelin, actually, but I agree to your terms.” Your grip slackens. He might be a wimp, but you have to give it to him. He’s got balls.

A flicker of relief crosses his face, and you both comply with your instructions. In spite of his obvious fear, you roll your eyes as he unzips his bag unnecessarily slower than you meant him to, throwing you a look.

On second thought, he’s either really brave or really stupid. It’s fifty-fifty at this point.

Joel pulls out an aluminum can. It glints in the light as he holds it up and tosses it to you. You catch it easily, inspecting it in your hands.

“Now will you let my dog go⎼Boy!” His scream tears through the barn.

You’re already composed. Uncoiling like a snake, you seize your spear and swing, all in one motion. He lunges for you, but you’re too far. He hits the ground.

Groaning in pain, he berates himself. He should have known; they had no reason to trust each other, so of course this stranger, this psycho, would betray him. He tries to brush it off, the false sense of security dissipating, the relief replaced with crushing betrayal and horror. 

This is what the surface is like? His chest clenches. He can’t breath, but this isn’t like when he freezes up on a monster. At least, not those monsters. This is worse. So much worse.

The net rips, then a pained grunt. Joel shields his eyes, burying his face in his hands as tears trail down his dirt-smudged cheeks. His heart thunders in his ears as he prepares for the inescapable sound of Boy’s pained yelps, the squelch of metal piercing flesh. He chokes down a sob.

He only knew Boy for less than two days, but within that timespan he bared his soul to the animal. He probably knew him better than his own colony. In the short time they had together, he became his best friend⎼

Okay, ew. What is licking him?

“Boy?” Joel groans, flinching away as the dog bombards him with wet kisses. “Wait, you’re not dead?”

You step into the light, javelin in hand as you snort, “Of course not. Did you think I was gonna kill him?”

Yes. Joel sits up and cradles Boy to his chest, gawking at you.

You glare at him, almost offended. “I’m not a monster.”

No. No you are not.

Decked in a faded blue jacket, you stand relaxed, spear perched over your shoulder (or a jav⎼java-something). Your eyes glint in the sunlight like steel, hard and piercing, with dark circles under them. You watch him with a slight frown. And like him, there’s smudges of dirt on your face and clothes, but you manage to make it look cool and purposeful.

You don’t look like a monster, but you kind of acted like one. Joel is conflicted.

He opens his mouth to respond, but he's not sure what to say in this situation, overwhelmed by a cocktail of emotions that he’s still coming down from. Before he conjures an appropriate response (is there even one?), you're shouldering your backpack and slipping through the gap. Joel rushes to his feet. “Hey, wait!”

You continue up the hill, not bothering to turn to him as you purse your lips. “Oh. You’re still here.”

“Yeah, I’m ‘still here’! You held my dog hostage; kind of hard to get over,” he grumbles, panting as he trudges after you with Boy at his heels. You’re faster than you look. “So⎼uh⎼where you heading?”

“Away.”

He nods almost sage-like, wringing his hands together. “Cool, cool. So mysterious,” He pauses, inhaling deeply. His voice, now deeper and a bit more relaxed, comes in a rush as he asks, “Is there any chance we could go with you?”

You freeze, and Joel almost crashes into your back. You whirl around and suddenly you’re faced to face, but you’re too astonished by his question to care that he’s in your personal bubble.

His breathes come in heaves. His eyes are big and round, brown and bright with… hope?

It occurs to you that this guy, who hasn’t even given you his name, is a loser. A hopeful, naive loser.

And it’s for that reason you come to a decision⎼you’ll entertain him. 

“Where are you going?”

“West,” Joel’s shoulders hunch, his voice self-assured as he adds, “to the coast.”

Yeah... fuck that. 

You turn to walk away. “No.”

“Wait!”

You glower at him, stopping him in his tracks. “Dude, we got what we wanted. I got food, you got your dog. End of transaction.”

Joel stares at you for a moment, like he’s debating how far he can test you. He seems to think better of it as his shoulders sag and he caves, “Fine, I’ll head west without you. I can do it.” The last part he says more to himself before turning on his heel, starting in the direction opposite of you.

You nod. This is good, for the both of you. And safer, you tell yourself as you turn to begin your trek again. You’re two strangers in the apocalypse; you don’t know who he is, where he’s been, and, from your experience, it’s best to travel alone. It’s inconspicuous, efficient and⎼

Where the hell is he going?

You halt, squinting as you watch him hike away from the west coast. “Hey!”

He looks at you over his shoulder, his face surprised but expectant. Hopeful. He reminds you of a puppy being called over by their owner.

He thinks you’re caving into him.

Well, jokes on you, loser. You raise an eyebrow, “You know that’s not West, right?”

“Oh,” Joel’s eyes widen, clearing his throat. Boy woofs and he shoots him a withered look, altering his trajectory. “I knew that.”

“That’s not West either.”

He switches directions again.

You shake your head. “No.“

And again.

“Nope.”

Joel’s face reddens, unable to meet your eyes as he stops trying so he doesn’t further humiliate himself.

You make your way over to him, rolling your eyes. He seems to make you do that a lot. “Okay, how much food you got on you?”

“Enough to last me a week? Why⎼”

That’s all you needed to hear.

“Then it’s settled,” You decide, clapping him on the shoulder. He winces. “You share your rations with me, and I’ll help you get to the West coast.”

He blinks, clearly taken aback as you begin your trek once again, gesturing him to follow you. You feel his eyes on your back. “Really?”

“Really. You are a food source. Also I’m pretty sure you’d die before getting halfway.” You add, unabashed.

He frowns, unsure whether to be grateful or not. He decides on the latter. “Oh…thanks anyway?”

“You're really not from around here, are you?” You pause, looking back at him.

He scratches the back of his neck. “No. Is it that obvious?”

“Painfully. So free advice,” You, with a hand on your hip and tone clipped, gesture up and down at his⎼well⎼everything. “Try not to let anyone know you’re a newb. Might keep you alive.” With that, you start heading West, not bothering to see if he’s comprehended the note you bestowed on him.

Joel glances down at himself before trailing after you. “Good to know.”

AN: I want to make it clear: I would never eat a dog, you would never eat a dog, no one would ever eat. A. Dog. That was a joke for this part 1. I even wrote emphasis on your character’s hesitation. It’s just that this is the apocalypse, so it’s safe to assume that survivors are driven into corners, desperate and have to make some hard choices.

The end dialogue is reference to @teenwolffanclub-me ​TW rewrite bc i love it and them so if you like Dylan O’ Brien and Stiles pls read their shit. <333

This part is a slow starter, but I don’t want to rush this, your intro and your development. But, now that you’ve finally met, hopefully the rest won’t seem any slower than the beginning.

I’ve never wrote for a lone survivor kind of character before. I hope you enjoyed the intro nonetheless!

I think I’ll forgo the 7 parts idea, but that’s a goal.

Part 2 in progress.

Also, how to get a beta reader??

[cyhyr]

Whumptober Day 6

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: G

Pairing: Iruka & Kakashi (pre-relationship)

WC: ~600

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Tags: starvation, vertigo, hungry child character, vertigo, Missing Nin Kakashi & Iruka

A/N: This is a very short scene out of a story idea @atereal thought up and was nice enough to let me play with. There's not much context, but in this story a teenaged Kakashi and Iruka run away with four-year-old Naruto for Reasons.

Tagging for Whumptober: @sweetysamaa, @atereal, @kelkage

~

Kakashi places his hand over his belly, willing it to settle and be quiet so he won’t be heard. He readies his kunai, exhales softly, throws—

And misses. The flock of birds all fly away and Kakashi stumbles out of the overgrowth and flings shuriken and two more kunai into the air, but still misses. His weaponry clatters to the ground, followed by Kakashi’s knees.

His stomach gurgles and cramps. He can’t go back empty-handed. He just—this is the second day in a row that he’s been unable to bring back food for Naruto and Iruka, and their ration bars ran out three days ago. They’re counting on him to bring something back.

Once more, he picks himself up, steadies his hand against a tree trunk to keep the vertigo at bay, and goes to collect his fallen weaponry. Once more, he takes a large, deep inhale. Once more, into the woods.

~

Kakashi staggers into their little camp hours later, ducking into the lean-to he helped build almost a week ago. He smiles softly at Iruka, holding Naruto tight to his chest; both of them are curled up together, Kakashi’s flak vest underneath them to keep the dirt away.

Iruka weekly opens his eyes and, upon seeing Kakashi’s expression, smiles back. He moves as though he’s going to disentangle himself from Naruto, but Kakashi shakes his head and murmurs, “Please, don’t. Save your strength.”

Iruka’s face falls. “Nothing?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll.” Kakashi goes down to his knees. “There’s a village nearby, I think. I’ll go tomorrow and see if I can find some work.”

“I should go too,” Iruka offers, sitting up anyway.

“No, I need you to stay with Naruto. Please.”

Iruka softens again. “Kakashi, we need to eat. We all need to eat. And we’re in this together.”

“I’ll bring something back for you both tomorrow, I promise.” He sighs. “Were you able to get water today?”

Iruka nods. “As long as we stay hydrated, we’ll survive. But Kakashi, I could—”

“No, Iruka. I—”

Naruto’s stomach rumbles, and the four-year-old whimpers in his sleep, rolling over and curling around his belly. At the same moment, Iruka’s eyes roll back and his spine goes slack for just a second, just long enough for Kakashi to panic and rush to catch him. Iruka ends up lax in his arms, moaning softly and laying his hands over his own empty stomach.

“Gods, I shouldn’t have brought you with me,” Kakashi murmurs, burying his face into Iruka’s hair. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please gods forgive me—”

“Shut up,” Iruka breathes. “I would have followed you if you’d tried to leave me behind.” He reaches a shaky hand up and brushes his fingertips across Kakashi’s mask-covered cheek. “I will never regret leaving with you and Naruto. Now, lay down with us and get some sleep. We’ll see about going to that village in the morning.”

Kakashi arranges Iruka back on the edge of the vest, watching as Naruto immediately shuffles in his sleep to be next to Iruka again. Iruka puts his arms around him, and then looks up at Kakashi expectantly. Sighing, he takes off his weaponry and sets it nearby, and then lays down behind Naruto. He reaches his arm over both of them, Naruto and Iruka, and quickly asks, “Is this okay?” before resting his arm on Iruka’s waist.

Iruka nods and closes his eyes. He curls ever closer, trying to find warmth through the cool night. Kakashi lets his arm relax over this little family they’ve made, and watches them both sleep until exhaustion finally claims him, too.

[bookenders]

Inspired by this gorgeous art from @heikala​ on Twitter. It stopped my scrolling in its tracks and I wrote this immediately. 

I love artists.

WC: 671

CW: death

She braided her hair and waited.

She was good at waiting. It was all she had been able to do for the longest time. Their kingdom fell long ago, ages, really, leaving her sleeping and waking among creeping overgrowth, watching her brothers’ ghosts fade into sunlight, remaining, despite it all, hopeful for something new.

She had named the plants. Some of them, anyway. They must have had names before, or new ones now, that she didn’t know, but she didn’t mind. No one knew anything until they felt the desire to learn. So she named the white blooms chrysanthemums, even though they were not chrysanthemums. Remembering what they had looked like was difficult; it had been so long since she had seen one in person. Ages, really. But now they were chrysanthemums, and they were her favorites.

She could touch them, sometimes. Feel the cheek-soft petals, the strong stems, the thin, reedy leaves. A memory from her childhood, hazy and warm, reminded her how to weave them into halos. Things her mother might have worn, or made for her brothers. Gentle hands in her hair and slow breaths, those were what she remembered. And so her breaths grew warm and her hands never creased a single petal.

The world was made of memories. Old stone walls were more than places for decaying tapestries. They had held the servants’ hands as they trekked down halls over-laden with bowls and plates and sheets and clothes. The doors were rotted; there was no need to separate these open rooms anymore. Butterflies and moths flew wherever they pleased, unimpeded by walls or wind or winding stairs. She never knew a place returned to nature could be so heartbreakingly beautiful.

It was quiet most days. There was no one left to make a sound. Every once in a while, a weathered stone would settle and cascade pebbles into the growing grasses, or a small, round puddle, rippling the silence until it smoothed once again. Quiet wasn’t so bad, most of the time, but days upon days of it were lonely. So she laid in the grass, moss pillowed under her head, and slept.

A clash of metal woke her one day. It was early morning, just before the sun would peek in through the windows. She knew the sound. A fight, and a bad one at that. Following the sounds of battle, she wove through hallways long abandoned until she found herself in one of the east wing’s wide passage rooms. She waited outside the door for the noises to stop.

A thick cord twanged, a person cried out, and all fell silent once more. She jumped back when two soldiers flung the passage door open and jogged down the hallway, alert and wary, scarred and bruised and battered, barely alive. Where they went was none of her concern. They would leave, and she would be alone again.

But from the room, a wet cough echoed, bounced between the stones and reached her ears. She peeked around the doorway.

A woman, strong and beautiful in knight’s armor, lay on the ground. One hand gripped an arrow in her chest. The woman coughed again, then sighed.

Slowly, she approached, careful to tread on the mossy stones. Crouching beside the woman, she placed a hand over hers where it gripped the arrow. The woman’s eyes opened.

She smiled.

Then, as though falling asleep, her eyes fluttered closed and her face softened into peace.

She bowed her head and gathered chrysanthemums.

One by one, she wove the stems together like her mother showed her a long, long time ago. Ages, really. The blooms were new. They always came with the autumn season. Crisp, cool air flowed in through the shattered windows, chasing the rays of the morning sun as she placed the first halo on the woman’s head, then made one for herself.

She gathered her hair in her lap, threaded the long, smooth strands between her fingers, and waited.

She had always been good at waiting.

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