#I just wish I could go live in a log cabin somewhere in the woods for 5 months to rethink what I want from this life

[agustdakasuga]

You Never Walk Alone | Chapter 2

Genre: Werewolf!AU, Poly!AU?, Mate!AU, romance, fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Student!reader, Omega!Seokjin, Alpha!Yoongi, Beta!Hoseok, Alpha!Namjoon, Omega!Jimin, Beta!Taehyung, Alpha!Jungkook

Summary: You live a quiet life in your late grandfather’s cabin in the woods. You go to school just to graduate and get your diploma, not to make friends or stand out from the crowd. That was until one day, you enter your home to see a pack of wolves that need shelter.

You cannot stop thinking about the wolf. You felt a strong bond with it despite it only being around for a few hours. A part of you dreads going back to the quiet house without him there. 

“Did he get back to his pack safely?” You sighed as you looked out the window. For some reason, the wolf couldn’t leave your mind. You wondered how he was, if his bandages came loose, if he found his home. 

All the more your bullies were annoyed that you weren’t even sparing them a glance today. Your mind was somewhere else, thinking about someone else that they seemed invisible to you. Lifting your hand, you remembered how soft his fur felt against your fingertips. 

“God, he’s a wild animal who just needed shelter for the night. He’s gone.” You scolded yourself mentally. 

But for some reason, you were so captured by him. The way he would whine or grin at you like a person would. Or how he scoffs or rolls his eyes at your words, as if telling you to shut up. 

If not for his looks, he could be human. 

Maybe this was the universe telling you to get a pet and stop being such a loner. You couldn’t help but scoff at that thought.

“Omg, she has officially gone crazy. She’s even talking to herself.” Someone pointed at you, snickering. Everyone laughed alone. You just rolled your eyes and rested your chin in your palm. 

After working, that evening, you got down at the bus stop and headed through the forest track that you always took to get back to your wood cabin. You had your earphones blasting music in your ears as you walked. The darkness didn’t scare you. There weren’t many wild animals to be afraid of anyways, well... except now you knew there were wolves. 

*howl*

You pulled one earphone out when you heard a distance howl. Your heart grew warm as you thought that it could be your wolf. 

“I hope you found your family.” You smiled and continued on your path. When you reached your home, instead of going into the house, you sat on the log outside, admiring the stars. 

Hearing footsteps, you turned your forehead to see him. He walked over casually, planting his butt down next to your feet. You blinked at him. 

“You’re... still here?” You were confused. 

“Don’t you want to find your family?” You stroked his head. His head dropped and ears drooped at your words, letting out a whine. Did he not have a family like you? Was he also left behind? Sighing, you continued to stroke his head and even rubbed his ears. 

“Guess we’re both alone, huh?” You chuckled bitterly. 

"Well, at least we both have each other to count on now.” Jimin barked.

“Alright. You can stay here with me if you want.” You rolled your eyes as you shook your head. 

He stood up and smiled at you, wagging his tail as he let his tongue fall out of his mouth. You laughed but was caught off guard when he pounced on you, showering you in licks. 

“Yah! Yah! Stop!” You laughed. 

“Never!” Jimin laughed as he continued to shower you in kisses. He backed away and sat back down as you pushed yourself up. 

“Alright, let’s get dinner.” You dusted your clothes before unlocking the door and entering. As you left him to go shower, you stared at yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t stop smiling. You touched the mirror, it has been so long since you’ve even seen yourself smiling. There has just never been a reason to smile so you never did. 

You came out and changed into comfortable clothes. When you came back down, the wolf stood up and headed to you. 

“After dinner, we’re giving you a name. I don’t think you really like the name ‘wolfie’, huh?” You patted his head and he let out a bark in agreement. 

It was a dinner of mixed noodles for you and for the wolf, the same boiled chicken. He was not impressed, his expression was a dead giveaway as you put down the bowl in front of him.

“I need to go grocery shopping tomorrow, okay? This is all I have.” You said defensively. He huffed but dug into his food anyway. You sat on the couch to eat. 

As you watched your show, you felt something wet on your cheek, making you jump. 

“Yah! I should seriously attach a bell to you. You walk too quietly.” You scoffed as he used his nose to boop your cheek. You slowly inched away, only to have him step closer to you. He eyed your food and blinked up at you innocently. You knew what he was hinting at. 

“Nu uh. This is mine. You already ate your share.” You held the bowl away. He whined, staring into your eyes. 

“Sorry but puppy eyes don’t work on me, mister.” You scolded as you continued eating. He gave up, lying down next to you, resting his head on his front paws. 

After you were done, the wolf waited for you to wash up and do the dishes. He tilted his head, looking at you curiously as you pulled out a chart. 

“Here. Choose your name.” You pointed to the Korean alphabet. 

“Do you even know how to-”

He cut you off by stepping forward and using his right paw to tap at the alphabet. You quickly wrote down wherever he stepped on and put it together. He sat down and waited for you to put the words together. He smiled at the way you stuck your tongue out of your mouth as you were deep in thought. Finally, you slammed the writing pad down, making him jump. 

“Oops. Sorry... Jimin.” You looked up at him. 

“You got it!” He barked and you smiled, throwing your hands over him to pull him into a hug. 

“You like the name Jimin?” You asked again and he barked. 

“Nice to meet you, Jimin. I’m (y/n).” You pulled away. He barked and turned around, chasing his tail, making you laugh before falling onto his back and rolling around in joy. 

“(y/n)! What a beautiful name for a beautiful human.” Jimin softened. You smiled at Jimin and patted his head. Looking at the clock, you went upstairs to do your homework or it would be too late. You didn’t know that Jimin followed you. He watched as you settled in front of the desk with your books. 

“What are you doing in here?” You giggled. Jimin stood on his hind legs, resting his front paws on your thighs as he sniffed. 

“It’s math. You know math?” You chuckled, stroking his head. 

He jumped down and curled up next to my chair on your rug. You turned back to do your word. Jimin chuckled as he heard your occasional cursing as you wrote the workings wrong. 

“She reminds me of Jungkook...” Jimin looked at you fondly. But immediately grew sad at the thought of his youngest brother. How was he doing? Was he okay? 

After a few hours, you stood up and stretched your arms. Jimin lifted his head to watch you. You moved around the room, packing your things. He admired the way you would hum a random tune as you did your things like packing your bag and organising your messy desk. You were so amusing that he could watch you for hours. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You said, making Jimin blink. 

“You probably don’t understand that.” You laughed, patting his head as you walked past. 

“Hmm... Tomorrow is Friday but I’m not working this weekend. Maybe we can have a picnic by the lake.” You checked your calendar. Jimin stood up and barked in approval, wagging his tail. 

“Maybe I can find my pack!” Jimin thought excitedly. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve been on a picnic.” You sat on the edge of your bed, a sad smile on your face. 

“What’s wrong, (y/n)? Don’t be sad, please.” Jimin whimpered, resting his head on top of your lap. You shook your head with a forced smile. Standing up, you went to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you returned, dressed in your pyjamas. 

“Your bed is in the living room, mister.” You pointed. Jimin whined. 

“Fine! You can stay here but on the ground. You haven’t had a bath yet so you’re not coming on my bed.” You glared and went downstairs to grab the blanket that Jimin used. 

“Here.” You laid it over him and slipped into your own bed. 

“Goodnight, Jimin.” You said, a smile on your face as you turned to lights off. You haven’t really wished anyone goodnight in a while and it made your heart grow warm again, you didn’t think Jimin would melt the loneliness. 

That night...

“No...” Jimin’s head perked up as he heard you. Standing up, he headed over to your side, seeing you toss and turn. You had a frown on your face and cold sweat covered your forehead as you whimpered. Jimin changed back into a human, covering his naked body with the blanket before he cupped your cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb. 

“You’re okay, (y/n). I’m right here.” He whispered with a soft smile. 

“Please don’t... leave.” You cried. 

“I’m never leaving you. I’ll always be here for you.” He leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead. You slowly calmed down, the frown disappearing from your face. 

Satisfied, Jimin turned back into a wolf. But this time, instead of going back to the rug, he curled up on the ground by your side of the bed. 

[Dream]

“(y/n)... Wake up.” A voice spoke. You opened your eyes and looked around. How did you get into the middle of the forest? The last thing you remembered was your nightmare, it was dark and lonely.

“(y/n).” The same voice called and you turned around to see a boy standing there. He was so good looking, almost like an angel. As you faced him, a smile grew on his face, his eyes turning into crescent moons. You blinked in confusion as he waved at you to come over. 

“Who are you?” You tilted your head. 

“Come on, you know me. Think about it.” He held your hands in his, his light laugh filling your ears.

“I’m sorry, I don’t recognise you.” You admitted in embarrassment. 

“Ah... I guess that’s okay. We’ll meet soon.” He tugged you towards him so he could hug you tightly. He pressed his face into your shoulder and you couldn’t help but melt at his warmth. 

It felt so different from your nightmare. That felt cold and dark. But with this mysterious boy, it was warm and bright. He pulled away and planted a kiss on your forehead that you swore felt real. Almost like lips were really touching your forehead. He pulled away with a big, bright smile. Waving, he ran off into the forest while you just stared blankly. 

“Oh, (y/n)!” He called, breaking your stare at you looked at him. 

“No more boiled chicken please! It’s too bland!” He laughed and realisation hit you hard as he said that. 

“J-Jimin?” You finally blurted out. 

“Hey! Wait! Jimin, don’t go!” You reached out to him but he disappeared behind the trees, leaving you to stand there alone. Was that boy really Jimin? That was nonsense, how could you dream of a wolf as a person? 

You stirred awake when you felt something wet on your cheek. Your eyes shot open and you recoiled in shock, only to see a curious Jimin sitting there, staring at you with his head tilted. 

“You scared the hell outta me!” You put a hand on your cheek. He let out a low howl and nodded over to your nightstand. 

“Oh damn! I forgot to set my alarm! Thanks, Jimin!” You rushed out of bed. Luckily Jimin woke you up only 5 minutes after your supposed alarm time so you weren’t that late. You brushed your teeth and took a shower, changing into your school uniform. 

“Jimin! Breakfast!” You called and he trotted into the living room. As you set the plate down, you remembered what human Jimin said in your dream. 

“No more boiled chicken please! It’s too bland!”

“Hmm...” You looked down at Jimin who just blinked back at you. 

“Nothing, go ahead. I’m just insane, as usual.” You scoffed and dug into your own eggs. Jimin inwardly sighed at the chicken but ate anyway. Being a wolf meant his appetite was huge. He was always hungry. 

“I’ll drop by the grocery store to get more meats for you, okay? But let me warn you, don’t expect Korean beef cause I’m not spending that much.” You folded your arms and Jimin grunted at that. You cleared up the kitchen as you ate. Jimin frowned in disapproval at that but he knew you were pressed for time and didn’t have time to properly clean. 

“I have to go!” You grabbed your bag and slipped your shoes on. Jimin sat in front of you patiently. 

“You can go back to sleep, Jimin.” You stroked his head. Jimin just sat there stubbornly. You shook your head with a smile and stood up, beginning the walk to the bus stop. Jimin stayed by your side until the main road. 

“People may see you.” You smiled down at him. 

“Like I care.” Jimin rolled his eyes but still stood by the edge of the forest to watch you. You watched him as you waited for the bus. 

When it finally pulled up, you gave him a small wave and he smiled, his tongue hanging out of his house. Once your bus disappeared out of sight, Jimin turned to head back into the forest. But instead of heading towards the forest, he went to the lake that you were supposed to go with him to tomorrow. 

“Please.” Jimin stepped closer to the water and drew a symbol into the surface, causing a rippling effect. 

“Thank God.” He let out a shaky sigh of relief as he saw the image 7 lit crystals appear. That meant his brothers were still alive, he could still find them. 

Being the head pack of their region, they had almost the status of princes. They each had their own coloured crystal that could appear in water if their pack symbol was drawn. 

Each symbol represented a member of the head pack. If one member died, they crystal’s light would die down as well. 

“I hope we find each other soon.” He said to his pack’s broken mind link and walked away from the lake, going back to the house. He entered through the side door that you now left unlocked for him to come in and out of. 

“Time to stretch.” He turned back into his human form. Even if he was alone, he wasn’t going to walk around naked so he wrapped a towel around his waist as he lounged inside the house. He felt like he could relax a little, knowing that his family was still out there. But for some reason, he didn’t want to leave you to find them. The thought of you coming back to the empty house again hurt him.

-

You grabbed a cart and pushed it through the supermarket. You had your usual music playing in your ears and people were looking at you, a girl in high school uniform, grocery shopping at close to 10pm. 

“What choice do I have? I had to work.” You mentally sighed as you grabbed rice and placed it in your cart. Then you went to the meat counter. 

“Girl, there’s a sale on beef since it’s the end of the day.” The butcher told you.

“But let me warn you, don’t expect Korean beef cause I’m not spending that much.” 

You smiled as you remembered what you told Jimin this morning. Maybe you should surprise him and treat yourself. You got the beef, some pork and chicken to store in the freezer. After that, you went to get some vegetables. Do wolves eat vegetables...?

“He’ll just learn to eat vegetables then.” You shrugged and placed an assortment in the cart, as well as some fruit. Once that was done, you paid and began to make your way home. 

“Jimin!” You called as you dragged the bags of groceries through the door. Jimin trotted over, staring as you fell down from the weight. 

“Sorry I’m late. Let’s have dinner.” You began to keep everything. Jimin poked his head into the plastic bags curiously, sniffing around to see what you bought for him. 

“What did you buy?!”

“Hey, no snooping.” You lightly hit his muzzle. He snorted. 

“Go on. I’ll make dinner now.” You said and began to prepare dinner. Heating up the pan, you dropped the steaks into it to sear it. You seasoned yours while leaving Jimin’s plain. From the living room, Jimin was smelling the amazing scent of meat being seared that he had a strong urge to just turn back into a human and eat it. 

“Dinner!” You called and he dashed over, sliding and knocking into your legs. You chuckled and took the plate with his food, putting it down. 

“It’s beef! No more disgusting chicken!” Jimin smiled in excitement, barking and jumping up and down. He happily dug in while you slurped your ice noodles with sliced beef on the side. 

“Enjoy it, babe.” You patted his back with a chortle. You made some lettuce wraps for yourself. 

“Want?” You casually held out a piece of lettuce to him. Jimin leaned forward to sniff a little when you grabbed a piece of beef off his plate. He growled. 

“Calm down! Geez, I just wanted to make a wrap.” You scoffed and wrapped the piece of beef in the lettuce, holding it out to him for him to eat. He sniffed it again and opened his mouth. You laughed and pushed it into his mouth. Chewing, Jimin opened his mouth again. 

“Huh... A wolf does eat vegetables.” You made another one for him to eat. 

After dinner, you showered and settled on the couch with a cut apple. Jimin sat next to you, his tail swaying for side to side as he waited for you to feed him. You focused on your drama, taking one bite and holding it out to Jimin. 

“Pay attention to me!” Jimin rolled his eyes. He leaned down to nibble to half bitten apple slice from your hand. 

“Look, Jimin!” You patted on him, pointing to the screen with a puppy. 

“Do you seriously think that pup is cute?! You seriously have not seen cute.” He shot you a flat look but of course, you didn’t notice as you were busy cooing at the puppy on the television screen. 

He sighed and laid down, putting his head on your thigh. He whined cutely and you looked down at him. 

“What?” You run your fingers through his fur. He stared back up at you as you turned back to the television. Jimin rolled down so you were rubbing his belly instead. His hind leg kicked in satisfaction, letting out sounds of happiness as his tongue rolled out the side of his mouth. You couldn’t help the smile that appeared on your lips. 

“You’re a puppy too, aren’t you.” You teased.

~~

Tag list

@georgie-me-myself-i​ @tatastaetaemainblog​ @dragoste-lunes​ @lil7bluedragon​ @amber-thumbs​ @greezenini​ @jisoosbitch​ @taozibun1​ @ghostkat23​ @fullvoidmoon​ @lovelyseomin​ @aclp-jb1d​ @mrcleanheichou​ @smallbaby-cat​

#kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop series #bts #bts scenarios #bts series #bts x reader #poly!bts #bts poly #poly!bts x reader #bts werewolf #bts werewolf au #bts wolfau #bts wolf au #werewolf au #werewolf!au #werewolf x reader #ot7 #ot7 x reader #ot7 bts #bts ot7

[alia-turin]

Request:  I wish you would write a fic where Caranthir and Imlerith are being requested by their commander to capture a human sorceress, who is known for her healing powers, compel her to divulge her secrets and spells and then kill her, but things take an unexpected turn

Honestly guys I feel so bad because you sent these awesome requests and I feel like butcher them and turn them upside down :D 

In any case couple of notes - big HC that I was introduced to is that despite everything Imlerith has soft side for animals, so I’m sorry if he sounds a bit OOO, but that whole thing is really about his soft side. If you want more Imlerith + animals, please check out @erinbeast . I have also put some ideas for Caranthir that come from an old fic I posted and another fic I’m currently working on (which I might never post but there is that). I hope y’all enjoy tagging you 

AO3 Link

Warning: mentioning of injured animal 

Caranthir stepped through the portal and Imlerith followed. Neither of them was wearing their armor, at least not in full. His friend still wore gauntlets instead of gloves and some of the metal around his legs and torso. Caranthir on the other hand was more practical, no amount of armor was going to protect them where they were going so he was just wearing his normal clothes and a cloak. He knew roughly where their final destination was supposed to be, but he wasn’t sure so he ended up getting them in the forest and they were going to figure the rest.

“I still don’t understand what Eredin’s problem with that particular sorceress is.” Imlerith groaned as Carathir led the way. He could sense the bitch so it wouldn’t be that difficult to find her at that point.

“Does it matter?” they were alone, even the usual forest sounds were somehow dulled around them. He couldn’t hear birds, just the wind brushing against the leaves. “She is a human sorceress, she is better off dead.”

Imlerith raised an eyebrow but the younger man did not see him as he was leading. Since Caranthir had joined the Red Riders the two of them had become friends. He had trained him to use a sword and spear, art Caranthir never mastered, but he had become damn good with that staff of his even when he was not using magic. He had also seen him grow, become more of a Red Rider compared to the skinny kid who left Avallac’h.

“For someone who uses magic you hate other mages way too much. Jealous they might be better than you?” He mocked but also that was something Imlerith never fully understood. One day something had snapped in Caranthir. The man never showed any real hate to anything but Avallac’h, at most he would just show lack of interest in things which in Caranthir’s cold mind was probably equal to hate. But then something happened, first it was just the darker mood but then during one of their raids he saw the Navigator break the skull of a human sorcerer. Imlerith liked violence, he inflicted it however he could, it made his blood running, but that had been something new from Caranthir. Maybe their friendship was rubbing on him or maybe it was just the Eredin effect.

“There isn’t anybody who is better…” Caranthir suddenly stopped. “Do you hear that?”

Imlerith looked around and focused, he could hear it. It sounded like a dog whining somewhere close. Without thinking Imlerith traced the sound and Caranthir was following.

It didn’t take them too far until they found the wolf lying on a bed of leaves and dirt. It was injured, an arrow was sticking from one of its hind legs and another one from its abdomen. Imlerith’s jaw clenched. He liked hunting, but he never did it for sport, it had always been for food or fur and he always made sure to finish his kill fast. He had no issue killing humanoid creatures in an extremely painful way, he even took pleasure in it, but animals were innocent. Whoever did not finish that kill deserved slow and painful death.

The wolf looked at them and showed them his teeth but he looked weak. Imlerith stepped closer, the arrow in the leg did not seem so bad, but the one in the abdomen...that was nasty wound.

Caranthir just looked at the other man as he approached the wolf, the animal was growling, but there was no bite, no danger to it.

“Imlerith, it’s dying, mercy is the best thing you can do for it.” He knew his friend felt some kinship to animals. Everyone always thought Imlerith to be mindless brute, Eredin’s rabid dog, but that was just part of the story. There is a side that almost nobody had seen.

“Maybe Avallac’h should have shown you some mercy.” the other man pointed at his face where Caranthir’s scars were.

“Maybe your mother should have shown some mercy when she saw you are barely intelligent to get dressed.” the Navigator bit back without hesitation. That’s what they did, Imlerith made fun of the scars on his face, the only person he tolerated to do that, and he made fun of Imlerith’s intelligence, just like true brothers.

Caranthir sighed. He wasn’t heartless, he just didn’t see a point in letting the poor animal suffer. He knelt next to Imlerith and placed a hand on the wolf’s head despite the sharp teeth that were barren.

“What are you doing?” Imlerith grabbed his wrist and squeezed.

“I’m not killing it. I can relate to the need to protect innocence and purity in its clearest form.” Imlerith had no idea what that meant. Caranthir had the habit to speak like Avallac’h at times, half of a conversation that made no sense to anyone. He made fun of him for that, but not now. The navigator freed his hand and placed it on the wolf again. Second later the animal was asleep and the laboured breathing was calmer. “We can break the arrows, but we should not pull them out, we need to deal with that bitch, which would be a quick job and then we can take it to Tir na Lia. It should be asleep for about two hours and it doesn’t feel pain, just make sure it doesn’t lose any more blood, because that will kill it.”

Caranthir didn’t have much hope for the animal surviving, judging by the blood around, it had been like that for some time, and his healing powers have always been the weakest from his many talents.

Imlerith scooped the wolf in his arm and followed Caranthir. He constantly looked at the animal to make sure it was still breathing. He decided he would name it Treise, a strong name for a beast like that. It wasn’t too long when they found an old log cabin deep in the woods. Caranthir did not stop, the man had no fear from some human witch, Imlerith followed but left the wolf outside, to prevent any further harm. He had seen mages fight and he also knew the pleasure Caranthir felt in making them suffer.

The Navigator was the first to enter the log cabin, bending his neck in an awkward position to get through the human sized door. Nothing impressive inside, wooden table, chairs, a bed in the far corner. The bitch was sitting next to the fireplace and turned in surprise when they walked in.

“Who…” she started a question, but he never allowed her to finish. His first attack knocked her on the ground, he wasn’t going to kill her, he was going to take his time.

Imlerith watched as Caranthir attacked the witch, she was a pretty thing for a human, small and fragile. A predator grin decorated his lips. Maybe he would let Caranthir have his fun using her to mop the floor and then he will have his type of fun.

“Wait!” the woman was on her hands and knees, her hair was a mess and there was blood running from her mouth. “I can help you.” Caranthir laughed mockingly. “I know you brought an injured animal with you, I can sense it, I’m a healer, I can help.”

Without hesitation Imlerith placed a hand on the navigator’s shoulder. Caranthir turned toward him, there was cold fire burning in his eyes. Funny how usually the roles were reversed. It had always been the younger man stopping him, but now Imlerith had other concerns than simple bloodlust.

“Why would you do that?” he asked, digging his fingers a bit deeper in the other man’s shoulder, his hand sinking in the soft first of his cloak.

“I cannot beat him.” she nodded at Caranthir. “And I don’t know why you are here but it isn’t for fortune reading. I help your wolf, you let me live.”

“No.” Caranthir said, almost offended.

“Deal.” Imlerith spoke at the same time and they both exchanged looks.

The woman wasn’t stupid and she did not wait for the two of them to sort their small differences. She got on her feet with visible effort and slowly limped toward the door.

“Please tell me the plan is to let her heal the wolf and then we kill her?” Caranthir said through his teeth, his jaw clenched. Imlerith did not answer. He wasn’t sure what the plan was. “You will tell Eredin. I’m not dealing with that.”

When they went out Caranthir walked to the nearest tree and pressed his back against it, his arms crossed over his chest, his cold eyes just pinned on the woman.

“It’s very weak.” the witch said as she placed her hand on the animal.

“Oh great, it’s very weak. Must have missed that.” the navigator said sarcastically, Imlerith couldn’t stop the smile on his lips.

The woman ignored them and started working. She pulled what was left from the arrows, thick blood started pooling on the fur but she worked quickly. She chanted a spell and pulled some herbs from her pocket that she applied to the wounds. Couple of minutes later she got up, the animal was still asleep and Imlerith got worried for a moment. Did she trick them? Did she kill the wolf as a final ‘fuck you’? If that was the case, whatever Caranthir was planning to do to her, would be nothing compared to what he would do to her.

“I cannot do anything about the lost blood.” she finally said. “And I cannot wake it up because of his spell. But once it wakes up it will be weak, it won’t be able to take care of itself until its body recovers from the loss.”

Caranthir forced an arrogant smile on his lips. Of course she couldn’t she was just a stupid human mage. It was surprising that Imlerith had been so...soft, between the two of them he had always been the nicer one, had he changed so much? No, it wasn’t that. He felt pity for the animal as well and didn’t really want it to die, but he was the logical one, Imlerith was impulsive. Where was Avallac’h now to see him? Where was his old teacher to call him rash?

“Am I free to go?” the woman asked, her eyes shifting between the two of them. Imlerith nodded, Caranthir was not really sold on the idea, but nodded as well.

He opened a portal and waited for Imlerith to grab the wolf and step through it, then he followed. They went straight to Imlerith’s apartments in the castle in Tir na Lia.

“We are not telling Eredin.” his friend finally said as he gently placed the wolf on his bed. He had never seen Imlerith being gentle with anything.

“We are not telling Eredin.” Caranthir repeated. “You are telling Eredin.”

“No.” Imlerith was still looking at the wolf. “We are waiting for a couple of days, and then we will do what we were supposed to do.”

After Caranthir didn’t speak for a while, he turned to make sure the navigator was still there.

“Why?” the younger man finally asked.

“Because that wolf means more to me than any other life out there and I’m paying her by giving her a couple of days.” Imlerith wasn’t sure if the navigator understood, neither of them was affectionate to anything. He expressed his emotions with violence and Caranthir...emotions did not come easy with him.

Caranthir nodded. He could relate, probably the reason he reacted the way he did was just because he did not expect Imlerith to be so...kind. But he could understand the desire to protect something.

#my writing #imlerith #caranthir ar feiniel #the witcher fandom #the witcher #aen elle

[dwaynepride]

baby, it’s cold outside

summary: a snowstorm would put a damper on most people’s vacations. but you, pride, and gibbs find a way to make the most of it.

words: 9,122

warnings: smut, PWP, female reader, light cumplay, slight OOC

tags: @stanathanxoox​ @pageofultron​ @fairytale07​ @jrenn10​ @f4nboi​ @purplestarsr5​ @ladyzombiielove​ @littlemiss3ma​ @minikate--24-05​ @consultingdoctorwholock​ @6adb0y​ @thegoodlonelydalek​ @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy​ @ms-allenbrown​ @ikbenplant​ @dylpickles1267​ @diaryofafan17​ @specialagentlokitty​ @starryrevelations​ @thebeckyjolene​

author’s note: it’s finally here!! thank you all for your patience and support while i finished this monster of a fic, and i really hope it lives up to the hype

Red and orange flames, small as they were, flickered from the charred remains of the fire that Gibbs had started upon arrival. And you were sitting as close to the fireplace as you could, without the risk of going up in flames. The heat it provided was a necessity to the frigid cold in the rest of the cabin.

Even the cup of coffee gripped in your hands, which had once been a lifesaver, was starting to lose its heat.

It was difficult to believe that, just last week, you and Pride were excited for this vacation. Coming up to Virginia for a weekend of solitude in the woods. Three old friends enjoying each other’s company; reflecting on old times and taking the much needed time away from the stress of work. It’s been much too long since the three of you have had actual time together.

That was before a snowstorm rolled in the night before. Froze up half the state.

You set the coffee mug aside, blowing into your numb fingers. Just as you were starting to mentally complain about the lack of a good fire, the door to Jethro’s cabin was kicked open. He and Dwayne stumble inside, snow clinging to their clothes, arms full of wood. The wind is loud and bitterly cold and blows in a fresh icy breeze before Pride kicks the door shut behind him, and both men drop their loads by the door.

Though, you were keenly aware that the firewood they’d collected wouldn’t last long. Not with how cold it is. “That’s all you got?” You ask them, eyeing the logs before looking to Gibbs.

“Snow started coming sooner than we thought. We’ll just have to make it last,” he answers simply while toeing off his soaked boots.

“Will it be enough?”

“Hopefully.”

Hopefully?

You huff at his answer, but your attention wavers away from Gibbs picking out the driest logs of the bunch to look at Pride, who had plopped down next to you by the fire. He scoots closer to the last lickings of the flames, hands reaching out in hopes of warming them up. And it occurs to you that the man has lived in Louisiana his entire life. He’s traded swamps for snow, and the weather must be killing him.

So you move a little closer until your shoulder nudges his. And when Pride glances over, you offer a little smirk. “You okay?”

He lets out a shivery exhale, mimicking your smile. “Cold,” Dwayne answers simply. His shaky voice proves that.

There’s still snowflakes clinging to his hair, which you reach up and brush away before motioning toward the bathroom. “You might wanna change into something drier. You’ll catch your death.”

Dwayne’s reluctant to leave the warmth of the fire, but he knows you’re right. He can feel his clothes sticking to his numb skin, further sapping away his own body heat. So, with another shivering sigh, Pride stands, grabs his bag, and quickly enters the bathroom to change.

You turn back to the flickering flames in the fireplace - happy, at least, that the two men were able to bring back some amount of wood for the duration of the snowstorm. In the silence, you can heard the wind pick up outside. It’ll probably get stronger. The walls of the cabin may creak, and you’ll be wishing you were somewhere much warmer.

A tap on your shoulder brings you out of your thoughts. Glancing up, you meet eyes with Gibbs, who’s handing you a mug. That’s when you show him yours. “I got coffee,” you tell him. And you leave out the fact that it’s lukewarm.

“It’s not coffee.”

He gives no other explanation, only motions the mug closer until curiosity prompts you to take it. The contents are hard to make out in the lowlight, so taking a sip is the only way to find out what it is. The taste of the mystery liquid burns and you didn’t expect just how strong it’ll be; strong enough to make you gag and glance over your shoulder to Gibbs as he chuckles and takes a seat beside you. “What the hell is this?”

“Whiskey,” he answers simply. “Found it in the cupboard. It’ll help keep you warm.”

Gibbs takes a sip from his own mug, and there’s no hint that the strong whiskey affects him in any way. So you scoff. “I got my coffee. And the fire,” you tell him. Though, his eyes don’t leave the orange light. Gibbs simply shrugs, and you end up taking another sip of the whiskey.

Pride comes out of the bathroom moments later, looking much more comfortable in a dry pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He thanks Gibbs when the Marine hands him a mug and, like you, Pride’s nose wrinkles harshly when he gets a taste of the whiskey. The sight makes you smirk before turning back to the fire.

A comfortable silence settles between the three of you. All huddled around the fire, quietly sipping at the harsh liquor and listening to the groan of the wind outside. It reminds you why you’d been so excited to take this trip; the moment reminds you of old times. Sure, you’re all older now. More worn out. Been through hell and back so many times and it’s left you all scarred. But this was like better times, and the sentiment of it all brings a soft smile to your face.

It takes Pride all but a few seconds to notice, and his eyes narrow curiously. “What’chu smilin’ at?” He asks, voice much more lively than it was just minutes ago.

You shrug at him, both hands clutching the whiskey mug tightly. “Nothing. I’m just glad we’re here. Even if we’re snowed in and facing hypothermia.” you answer, playful eyes glancing over when both men start laughing.

Then the night devolves into nostalgia. Bringing up old cases and old memories that haven’t seen the light of day in years.

Remembering Pride’s first winter in Virginia - when he fell into a snowbank and had a cold for damn near two weeks.

Remembering when Gibbs had a pistol leveled at his crotch by a very angry woman because she didn’t appreciate his little joke about blondes.

Despite the nip in the air, Gibbs was right; the whiskey was warming you right up. Made your face blush to chase away the numbness of your nose. Plus, it made your head light in a way that had the three of you laughing your asses off. Even Gibbs had a dopey grin on his face. 

Time passed damn quickly. It was Pride who settled down first; his face squished against his pillows, which thankfully muffled his soft snores. And you follow not long after, sighing once you hit the middle bedroll. Gibbs was the last to go, after throwing in another log so the fire doesn’t go out while you slept.

The three of you had decided to sleep close together, by the fire. Straying too far would mean waking up shivering, and the warm glowing light was too good to leave. Still, even on your bedroll with two grown men sleeping on either side, it’s pretty chilly. You have to pull the blankets up to your chin and curl up into yourself, wondering how you’ll get to sleep when it’s so cold. But eventually, it’s the whiskey that puts you to sleep.

Along with the snores of the men beside you.

-

The next time you open your eyes, it’s considerably darker.

But that was only the second thing you noticed. The first was the fierce, bone-chilling cold that cut right through your blanket. You wouldn’t have been surprised if the frigid air is what pulled you from your slumber. Instantly, you let out a shaky exhale, breathing into your fingers so they weren’t so numb.

Your warm breath alleviates the numbness for just a moment, but it gives you a chance to focus on the sounds bouncing off the wooden walls of the cabin. Shuffling around and frantic whispers. Whispers that you recognize as belonging to your old friends - Pride and Gibbs were awake, as well. And it sounds like they’ve been for a while; Gibbs’ hushed voice rises a little in frustration, while Pride’s stays low. Shushing him before he can wake you.

Despite the little warmth that the blanket provides, you pull your face away from the shelter. It’s propped up on the pillow, squinting through the darkness toward the hushed whispers. And you quickly find out why Gibbs sounds so frustrated; the fire had gone out during the night. Burned right through the wood he set in there and left faint embers behind.

Gibbs and Pride were trying to cultivate those embers with more wood. Trying to grow a new fire to chase away the cold, but it doesn’t seem like they’re succeeding.

With a huff, Gibbs tosses his old lighter on the floor and glances to your bedroll. Likely to check if you’re still asleep, but he sees your groggy eyes blink at him questioningly. He huffs again. “Yeah, I know it’s cold. We’re getting the fire started up again.”

Pride’s head whips up, blinking to Gibbs before noticing you’re awake. Even in the dark, you can see his hands clenching and unclenching. And it reminds you of your own numbed extremities. “Well, hurry up. I can’t feel my hands,” you respond, sinking back into the warmer shelter of your blanket.

Gibbs just grumbles something, but he remains by the fireplace while Pride returns to his bedroll next to yours. With him much closer, you can see his breath lightly billowing, reflecting the pale moonlight. It was fucking cold. “Hey,” he greets lightly.

“Hey.”

He’s quiet for just a moment, sitting on his bedroll before shrugging his broad shoulders. “Ya know, until the fire’s back up, you outta use my blanket,” Pride says. And just as the sentence ends, he’s tugging the fleece cover from his bed to yours.

It covers your legs, and honestly, the thought of having an extra layer was tempting.

But not tempting enough to fall back asleep to the thought of Dwayne freezing his ass off in a dark cabin. Despite the chill in the air, you sit up and toss his blanket back at him. “No, you need it,” you tell him firmly.

Dwayne tries to give it back. “Oh, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not stealing your blanket, Dwayne.”

“It ain’t stealing if I’m handing it over.”

“Quit it. We’ll all need our blankets,” Gibbs cuts in. And when the two of you look over, the Marine is moving back to his bed. There’s a small fire going, thankfully. But not enough to give off any real warmth or light. “It’ll still be a little while until the fire’s back up.”

He’s moving back under his covers, seemingly unaffected by the bitter cold, but you can also see his breath. Notice how his nose and cheeks are just a little more pink than usual. And beside you, Dwayne shudders and exhales into his numbed fingers. It prompts an idea - perhaps a little silly, but damn better than freezing all by yourself. “We should share blankets,” you blurt out.

From his bedroll, Gibbs turns his head and squints at you. “What?”

“We’d be warmer. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to try to fall asleep when I’m shivering cold.”

“I agree,” Pride chimes in. Though, judging by the shudder in his voice, he’d be down for just about anything that would provide some warmth. “Sharin’ body heat and all that.”

Gibbs doesn’t reply. You barely make out his expression, with only the faint moon and firelight to see him by. But he must be thinking it over, so you just have to nudge him a bit more. “What? Afraid to share blankets with two of your oldest friends?” You ask him teasingly. Then you glance back to Pride, whose eyes are crinkled with amusement.

The teasing worked, evidently. Gibbs breaks his silence with a cross huff, disbelieving that you got to him too easily. But, he concedes - you do know him pretty damn well.

He pushes his bedroll over until it connects with yours, and Dwayne does the same. And with that, the three of you maneuver the precious blankets until they’re spread out to cover each person. In the end, you’re basically all huddled in a big blanket pile, with Gibbs’ shoulder pressing against your spine and your knees touching Pride’s.

And yeah, at first, it’s a bit awkward. You’re facing Dwayne and the only way to quit the eye contact is to close your eyes and push your face into the pillow. And you’ve gotta be careful how you move, lest you press your ass back against Gibbs.

But despite the awkwardness, you’re already getting much warmer than you would’ve been sleeping alone. With the whiskey still swimming in your system, and the body heat of two grown men, you’re quickly growing groggy and heading back towards sleep. Though, Gibbs mumbles something from behind, low and deep, that makes you smile into the pillow:

“Something tells me you got the sweeter end of this deal.”

-

The next time you’re pulled from sleep, it’s not cold.

On the contrary, you’re almost hot.

Other than the snores of the two men beside you, the cabin is silent. The storm outside has calmed down, in comparison to earlier. But wind and ice still beat against the windows and makes you thankful for the warm glow of the fire.

But it doesn’t take you long at all to realize that it isn’t the fire that’s making you so damn hot. Yeah, you feel its heat, but it isn’t as all-encompassing as the big, solid body pressing against your back. The muscled arm around your waist keeps you close, and if it hadn’t been for the knowledge that your head is resting against Gibbs’ shoulder, you’d have to concentrate damn hard on which of the men was currently cuddling up to you.

Jethro’s earthy scent was all you could smell, but it was Dwayne’s strong heartbeat that you felt beating against your back.

Somehow, even while laying down, you felt a little lightheaded. Because it doesn’t take long for your body to tell you that this feels damn good.

You think about moving. Shuffling just out of Dwayne’s grasp, but with he and Gibbs so close, would you wake them? Could you even move? While you’re strategizing, Pride’s snores are interrupted by a soft sigh that billows your hair slightly. Then he hums, and his arm moves up from your hip, and the movement makes your head go blank. His hand is dangerously nestled under your chest.

To make matters worse, his body shifts to get more comfortable. It wouldn’t have even been so bad, but his hips roll just a little. Barely even noticeable, but through the intense heat and the blurred lines, you could feel something press against your ass. Half-hard. Trapped in denim. 

Some small part of you was mortified. Embarrassed, because this was your close friend and if Pride were awake, he’d be blushing and apologizing as if this were all his fault and then Gibbs would find out, too.

But the deep, hot wave of arousal makes it difficult to care about the embarrassment. C’mon, this was Dwayne Pride. Broad-shouldered agent of The Big Easy. You’d have to be blind not to notice his handsome laugh lines or muscled body and not think about them from time to time over the years of your friendship.

Even still, he was a friend. That’s all he’s ever been.

So, carefully, you pull your legs up closer to your chest. Use your arms to drag your body just a couple inches away from Dwayne. Away from his heat and his body and the little noises he makes every time you move against him.

Away from him, and towards Gibbs.

You hadn’t even noticed how close you were getting to the Marine until he sighed in his sleep. The messy silver hair on his head reflects the orange firelight - turns it amber, but you barely notice because Gibbs smells like whiskey and lumber and it becomes painfully obvious you’re stuck between a handsome rock and a gorgeous hard place.

Gibbs almost pulls you in, as if he has his own gravity. But you’re able to shift back with an unsteady breath. What to do....what to do.....

The sleep and the last lickings of the whiskey has your mind running at a snail’s pace. Unable to just decide on a single course of action that doesn’t involve cuddling up to either Gibbs or Pride. But that option is taken away from you when Dwayne’s breathing starts picking up.

All your moving around must’ve woken him. The arm he has resting on your flank, unfortunately, doesn’t pull away. Only half-awake, evidently, but his hips do that light roll again. The gentle grin of his hips against your ass prompts a moan from Dwayne. Right in your fucking ear and the sound goes right between your legs and you almost can’t stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together because as fucked as this situation is, he sounds so good.

Though, that brief moment of arousal is over quickly. Because from behind, you feel Dwayne’s muscles twitch and tighten up. Hear his breath lodge in his throat, and you know he’s finally woken up enough to realize what’s going on.

Is he in shock? Is he mad that you didn’t do enough to separate the two of you?

The questions linger in your mind until curiosity forces your head to turn. Eyes carefully peering over your shoulder, and they instantly meet Pride’s wide, green, terrified gaze. Blurry with sleep, but still clear with understanding. “I, uh-” he mumbles out, voice hoarse and choked back. “Sorry.”

Simple. Straight-forward. Maybe if he pulls away now, the two of you can wake up in the morning and pretend this never happened.

His arm starts retreating. His body shifts so Dwayne can turn around and try to go back to sleep facing the other side of the cabin.

“Don’t be.”

That makes him freeze. Hand now settled on your hip and unmoving.

The seconds that pass during this time feel like minutes. Dwayne’s eyes blink once at your two surprising words. Confusion was the first emotion that flickered in his gaze before another one followed it. Something darker and hotter and you readily fall into the smoldering look in his eyes because it’s just so damn easy to.

You both are leaning toward each other in a heartbeat. Lips crashing together in a clumsy first kiss but neither of you care because it just feels good. Dwayne lets out a small noise in the back of his throat and you have to stop yourself from gasping against his lips. It’s hot and passionate and needy because your head is swimming in heat and, judging by the light rocks of his hips, Dwayne is damn horny.

His hand squeezes your hip, wanting to move it under the blanket and touch your warm, soft skin - and you want him to. Need to feel the calloused skin of his palm more than you’ve ever needed anything.

So you flipped on your back (carefully, to not wake Gibbs) and tangled your fingers in his hair to pull Dwayne in closer. The change in position is all the permission he needs; his hands all but fumble to push past the thick blanket until he finally just throws it off you to give himself the room.

Your hips arch upward. Legs spread just a little. Pride’s hand reaches the waistband of your jeans, and as he starts to unbuckle it, there’s a brief moment of clarity. Probably brought upon by the noise of Gibbs sighing in his sleep right next to you.

The sound makes you think about what’s to come. About Dwayne tugging your jeans down. Kissing you hard while fucking you with his fingers and making you cum...all while Gibbs is quite literally right there.

And it would have been a reality, if Dwayne were able to get your belt unbuckled.

His soft, frustrated swearing draws your attention away from the sleeping Marine. Dwayne’s attempts at undoing your belt with a single hand aren’t going so well, and despite the need, you find yourself laughing quietly.

He notices. “What the hell kinda belt is this?” Dwayne whispers loudly.

“The normal kind.”

“You sure? I can get the normal kind.”

His raspy, annoyed complaints keep the amused smile plastered on your face. And your fingers lightly comb through his hair. “Want some help?” You offer lowly.

Pride’s head shakes once. “Nah. I got it.”

“I’m not really in the mood for waiting, Dwayne.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, neither am I.”

“Can you two bozos be any louder?”‘

In an instant, Dwayne’s hand stops its attempts at opening your belt. A breath stuck itself in your throat, threatening to completely cut off your breathing but in that moment, you thought that might be preferable to facing Gibbs, like this.

Regardless, your eyes finally flicker sideways. Part of you was terrified of looking up and seeing disgust in the Marine’s gaze. But seeing his bleary eyes and wild bedhead did nothing to calm your nerves. Serves you right for thinking you’d be able to tell how Gibbs is feeling so easily.

Dwayne’s hand is instantly pulled away from your half-open belt, leaning back into his own bedroll as Gibbs slowly brings himself up to lean on his elbows. And you’re frozen there; laying on your back and watching as he looks down and seems to inspect you. The usual icy-blue of his eyes is much darker, despite the golden firelight. Narrowed and unreadable and so, so different than the open door of raw emotion that were Dwayne’s eyes.

Gibbs gives a small tilt of his head before glancing up to his old friend. And to your utter shock, he fucking smirks. The devious, mischievous little smirk that you’ve never trusted before in your life. “Nah, you need some help, King,” is the only thing he says. Voice hoarse and deep with sleep and sends an involuntary shiver down your spine.

You don’t see the perplexed, and defensive, look on Pride’s face.

Instead, your eyes are all focused on Gibbs and the hand that he brings to your belt. There’s ample time to move away or find the words to speak out, but you just stare at his hand. His big, muscled, scarred hand that reaches your belt and has it open in a fraction of the time that Dwayne did.

Beside you, Pride gives a light huff. But you can’t will yourself to look at him. Gibbs and his hand and his eyes are much too captivating, in the moment. They lock onto yours and keep the connection, even as Gibbs pops the button of your jeans, pulls the zipper, and simply lets his fingertips graze the skin below your navel.

In reaction, your hips shift upward. Not so much the raw, visceral arch of your hips that Dwayne elicited, but its enough of a sign that prompts Gibbs to know what you need from him.

He’s merciful. Gibbs pushes his fingers past the waistband of your jeans. Though, your underwear serves as a barrier between you and his fingers. Even still, the friction and the pressure is enough to make you whimper. To instantly clasp Pride’s arm because it’s the closest thing and if you didn’t hold onto something, you’d start grinding against his hand - and you didn’t want to give Gibbs that satisfaction.

But it gets so much harder to keep from keening up once he starts moving his hand up and down, even curling his fingers just a little. Teasing you. Making you want him and if that bastard knows how to do anything, it’s how to get under people’s skin.

Your fingernails dig into Pride’s arm when you finally whimper out Jethro’s name.

The small sound has Gibbs leaning in a little closer. Arousal flickers in his eyes, brighter than even the orange flames in the fireplace because it’s so raw and real and for you. “Are you sure?” Gibbs prompts lowly, his voice rough. “Seems like you wanted King just a minute ago.” At that, his eyes move up to his friend.

Pride had been motionless, admittedly frozen and not quite knowing what he should do. His cock is still hard and pressing against the zipper of his jeans; that much hasn’t changed. In fact, seeing you so desperate has only turned him on that much more.

But Gibbs and his words surprised him. He’s torn - there’s nothing he’d rather do than climb over you and continue where you’d left off. But if you decided you’d rather fuck Gibbs, then Dwayne will just have to accept that. He’s not sure how, but he’ll get over it.

Pride leans away, almost as if he’s trying to pull himself out of the picture. But the hand you have gripping his arm tightens to keep him from straying too far.

“Both. Both of you.”

You’re looking at him, now. Eyes half-open and hazy. Chest panting and hair all astray and looking damn gorgeous.

But even the picture you present doesn’t stop both men from looking shocked. They both were expecting you to choose one or the other, but both? A third option had never crossed their minds.

Had the circumstances been different, they might’ve thought a bit more logically about this. But neither man was so keen to ignore your breathy pleas. Pride was panting, too. And Gibbs felt that familiar stirring in the pit of his stomach that only got worse when your hips started moving in tandem with his fingers.

So even if Gibbs is the one with his hand down your pants, Pride is the first to truly act.

He’s leaning back in, resuming the hot kisses. But this time, you’re so much more hot and needy and wound up, you’re moaning into his mouth. Opening your lips to taste more of Dwayne while your thighs squeeze together, hoping to just selfishly ride Gibbs’ hand.

He has to pry your legs apart to pull his hand free

Your body instantly reacts to the loss of his touch, huffing into Dwayne’s mouth and wishing you could break the kiss to yell at him - even though Gibbs is currently tugging your trousers down your legs and throwing them off somewhere in the darkness of the cabin.

It’s fucking cold, even through the rush of heat that leaves you gasping.

Dwayne’s hand is equally cold when it ventures up your shirt.

But really, it’s the chill of Jethro’s fingers as they trail up your inner thigh that really makes you shiver.

Or maybe it’s not at all the cold that elicits the shiver. Maybe it’s the realization that this isn’t some fucked up dream you’re having. That Gibbs and Pride really are seeing and touching so much of you, and it’s overwhelming. They’re two of your oldest friends, and yet, it was scarily easy to forget all that for a little while and just revel in their attention.

Like when Dwayne finally pushes your shirt up, revealing your belly and breasts that seem to glow like embers in the firelight. His breath is hot against the goosebumps. “You’re damn beautiful, honey,” Dwayne mumbles. It’s the first time he’s spoken in a while, and he sounds absolutely wrecked.

You want to hear more of that crackly voice, but his lips are creating a trail of kisses up your belly, across your sternum and into the valley of your breasts. The sensation is hot and electrifying and you tangle your fingers in his hair to keep him there.

Though, unfortunately for him, Gibbs once again steals the show.

Because this time, he doesn’t tease. Doesn’t make you seek out the pleasure: he readily gives it. Sinks his middle finger in with one fluid motion, and grinds the heel of his hand against you until your nails dig into Dwayne’s scalp with a harsh gasp.

Dwayne makes some kind of noise to the pain - you can feel the vibration, but he keeps on course.

“Dwayne’s right, ya know,” Gibbs comments. And from above, you can clearly see the light smirk playing on his lips. “You do look beautiful - especially right now.”

Cocky bastard.

Your mouth drops open, and you’re intent on telling him just that. But it seems like Pride and Gibbs are somehow working together. As if they know what the other is doing. Because in the same moment that Jethro curls his finger, Dwayne reaches his goal. His mouth is hot and wet, latching onto your nipple and flicking his tongue over the hard bud and the combination of the two makes your head tilt back in a loud, drawn-out moan.

As if Dwayne’s mouth weren’t enough stimulation, Gibbs thinks it’s a good idea to push in a second finger. It’s a tight, delicious stretch; damn near knocks the wind out of you. And as he pumps his fingers slowly, your hips start to writhe, seeking the friction you need to cum because it’s already so damn close.

Pride can hear your hard, panting breath. Can feel it against his hair and under his lips.

And it only gets harder and louder as time passes. Whatever Gibbs is doing, however he’s pleasuring you, must be fucking working. Because just seconds after he pulls off the first breast to pay attention to the second, your moans are so much louder. More desperate and keening and Dwayne can feel your body tighten up beneath him and it all makes him unbearably hard.

Your climax passes, and once your body goes slack, that’s when Pride lifts his head. His eyes are instantly locked on your face; cheeks pink in your exhilaration, hair mussed up and lips parted as you pant hard. And he wants you to lift your head to look at him. Pride wants to see that dazed look in your eye.

But he leaves you to rest. Presses a kiss to your heaving sternum, and then makes a new trail of wet kisses back down your body.

Pride can feel your muscles quiver, but Gibbs can see it.

Especially when he pulls his fingers free, and your body seems to miss them instantly. Your thighs squeeze together and you whimper softly, but Gibbs is far from done.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

Slowly, your eyes blink open. Jethro is leaning into view, blue eyes blown dark and his own lips are parted and panting because he’s just as turned on as Pride is (if the hurried kisses on your hips and thighs are anything to go by).

Gibbs watches you for a moment. Takes in your tired, but wanting, expression before he finally came in for a kiss. And his kisses are so different than Dwayne’s. Where his were sweet and allowed you to explore him, Jethro simply takes initiative and makes you keep up with him. Though, maybe you can blame his demanding lips on that fact that you just came hard on his fingers - but it’s enough to make your toes curl nonetheless.

His tongue teased your lips open, and just as you’re allowed a taste of him, Gibbs pulls away. His hot breath over your mouth, but before you could initiate another dizzying kiss, his fingers brush over your lips. Purposeful and wet, your mouth instinctively drops open. Gibbs slides them in, pressing down against your tongue, and you taste yourself between two thick fingers.

A moan rose from you, and as your tongue starts swirling between his fingers, his eyes go darker. His chest inflates in his careful breath to keep control.

You want to push him further. Make him lose control the way he did to you. But the feeling of two large hands pushing apart your thighs breaks the spell. In the time it takes for Jethro to pull his fingers free, slick in your saliva, those hands are replaced with two broad shoulders. Keeping your thighs apart while Dwayne gets himself comfortable, and the sensation of him there makes you gasp.

Your body is still receptive from the treatment of Jethro’s fingers; buzzing and sensitive and it only heightened the heat of Pride’s kisses across your inner thighs. It’s a light flutter against your skin, and you’re not positive if it’s his lips or the cold cabin air that gives you such vicious goosebumps. Maybe a little bit of both.

Either way, you know you’d just about die if Dwayne holds off on touching you.

Breaking your gaze from Gibbs, you look down to the man knelt between your knees - eyes turning a dark mossy green in the firelight, and it reflects off his messy hair. The contrast of light makes the sharp angles of his face pop.

The sight of Dwayne looking so raw, you can’t help but stare for a moment. But only a moment, because as soon as he pushes in two long fingers, your head tilts back again. Moaning out in the dark cabin and unwittingly giving Gibbs the perfect opportunity to suck a hickey into your neck.

Fuck it, let him. You’re much more interested in how Pride’s fingers are slowly pumping in and out.

Pleased with your reaction, you’re finally granted his mouth.

“Oh my fucking god, Dwayne,” you cry out, eyes screwed shut tight.

You can’t help it; his tongue is doing some magical things. Enough to make your back arch, toes curl, hips tilt up because the thing you need most in the world is to ride his face into another spectacular climax. Your fingers tangle into Dwayne’s hair, keeping him in place - as if he’d pull away when your noises are this fucking beautiful.

Gibbs doesn’t allow you to fall into the abyss that is Dwayne’s talented tongue. With a new hickey successfully inked into your skin, his lips move up to your ear, breath hot and hard as he whispers, “You the only one who’s gonna have all the fun?”

Your eyes blink open at his question. He should know you don’t have nearly enough brainpower for ask-and-tell. But seeing that familiar cocky look on his face, you figure it’s a question that doesn’t need an answer. Thank God.

Still, you can’t suss out what he meant. So you watch him, confused, until your eyes drop down the length of his body. And there it is; Jethro is using a single hand to undo his belt and jeans. Even from here, in the lowlight of the fire, you can see the hard outline of his cock press against the denim.

Instantly, your mouth waters just a bit. You blame it on the mental image of sucking Jethro off; of him fucking your mouth.

A noise comes up, somewhere between a moan and a whimper and it’s impossible to figure out the cause; Dwayne thrusting his fingers a little harder, or Gibbs coming up to his knees and crawling closer. Either way, you’re not thinking too hard about that. Not thinking too hard about anything other than pushing yourself up to your elbows and leaning towards Gibbs.

Your tongue comes out to wet your lips, and that only makes the Marine give a short chuckle. “Gonna be a good girl? You’ve been doing an awful lot of taking, sweetheart. Not doing a whole lot of giving.” he says in a rough voice.

“Then shut the fuck up and let me give,” you respond. And even to your ears, the words were much more solid and confident than you felt.

In reality, you should’ve sounded shaky and whiny and downright filthy. Because as your hand comes up to rest on his hip, helping Gibbs tug down his jeans, you want nothing more than to suck him off. To find out how he tastes and how he how he sounds.

His pants are tugged low, along with his boxers, until there’s finally enough room for his cock to spring out. Gibbs is hard and veiny and his head shines with smeared pre-cum. His hand wraps around it in a loose fist, strokes it slowly and the head just happens to brush against your lips. The contact - however brief and teasing it is - alights your body in a rush of hot desire that not even Dwayne’s talented tongue can really sate.

And the only real way to be sated is to suck him dry.

With your hand still on his hip, you pull him closer. Your tongue finally peeks out, running up under the head of Jethro’s cock and it makes him hiss in the most delicious way. And despite everything, you can’t help but feel just the smallest inkling of pride at the sound. Makes you wonder just how fucking cocky you’ll get when you make him cum.

That thought is motivation enough to drop your hand from Jethro’s hip, replacing the hand he has stroking his cock to continue the rhythm yourself.

And he’s much thicker than you thought. Hard and heavy in your hand, with a certain softness that prompts you to lean your head in and run your tongue up the length of his cock. Gibbs shivers, and he’s just wound up enough to arch his hips closer and let you work him up.

You’re getting bolder, with all these little reactions from Jethro. Twisting your fist around the head of his cock. Sinking half of him down your throat, just to try and draw out more. To try and turn the stubborn, hard-headed Marine into sawdust-scented putty in your hands.

But Dwayne chooses the worst time to start rubbing the pad of his thumb over your clit.

It’s a firm motion, with his tongue delving ever deeper, and you can’t stop yourself from outright moaning with Jethro’s cock still halfway down your throat. And you’re not too sure if it’s even considered a moan - it’s really only a series of stunted noises and vibrations.

Whatever the hell it was, Gibbs sure seems to have liked it. Pride’s little stunt that almost had you cumming on the spot was equally beneficial for Jethro, who gasped hard and suddenly had his fingers gripping your hair tight. His hips even give a very light rock, but you can tell he was really holding back.

“Your mouth feels good, honey,” Gibbs exhales. His voice is tighter than it was; like he’s fighting hard as hell to keep his control. You don’t see, but his eyes flicker down to Pride. “King, make her moan again.”

God. What a fucking bastard.

Before you can pull off and tell him that, Dwayne obliges. His fingers curl inside you, hitting a certain spot that would’ve been toe-curling alone. But this time, instead of his thumb, his lips are on your clit. Tonguing and even sucking it, and you’d be damned if you didn’t moan louder, this time. Hips angling to try and grind on his tongue, but your movements are awkward when Gibbs grips your hair even tighter.

He pulls his cock out, letting you suck in a lungful of air, before he sinks it deep.

Gibbs continues that pattern, reaping the benefits of Dwayne trying his hardest to get you to cum. He feels every little vibration on his cock, and even when he pulls back, you waste the chance to breathe because you just have to push a loud moan out into the air.

Eventually, the pleasure just builds to a point where even Gibbs can see you’re about to go over the edge.

He does grant the small courtesy of pulling back a bit to where you could breathe through your nose. But when Dwayne’s assault finally breaks you, he’s still in your mouth. Still feels your tongue glide against the head of his cock as you cum. Hard. Crying out and gasping as you ride Pride’s face and the vibrations of your moans still feel fucking heavenly. Gibbs is almost disappointed when you stop, and he only feels your hot panting against his cock. So he pulls it out and leans back against his feet.

The second orgasm really did take a lot out of you. Or maybe it’s because of the attack on two fronts and it’s all just a little much, right now. But your eyes are closed, readily falling into the satisfied afterglow that Dwayne had provided. You want to talk; tell him how fucking good he is with his mouth. But words don’t come easy, right now. Not with his hands stroking your thighs, and Jethro’s fingers lightly moving through your hair. Somehow, the combination of the two feels even better than the orgasm.

The sound of somebody moving, and the warm body heat that follows, prompts your heavy eyes open. Dwayne’s gaze, turned mossy green by the firelight, captures your eyes instantly. You scarcely notice his flushed face, or swollen lips, or messy hair because his eyes are so damn soft.

And then he’s kissing you, making you taste yourself on his tongue. When your teeth brush against his lower lip, Dwayne lets out a noise. Quiet, keening, more desperate than you’d expect from one of the most solid men you know.

Though, once his hips roll against yours and you can feel how hard his cock is straining against his jeans, you start to understand what’s got him so needy.

You hum softly. Wrap a leg over his hip and pull him closer, and the closeness has Dwayne hitching his breath. He pulls back from the kiss, blinking a couple times to see you through the horny haze he’s in.

“Your turn, Dwayne,” you tell him softly. And along with your hand slowly moving down the expanse of his chest, it just makes him shiver.

And he’s much too eager to take his turn. There’s even a light smirk on his face when Dwayne pushes himself up to his knees. After pulling his shirt off over his head, he undoes the button and zipper of his jeans to push them and his boxers down, revealing the deep V of his hips. His cock, sensitive after being locked away for so long, is long and hard. Longer than Jethro’s, and there’s a sudden small urge to derail Dwayne’s plans. To flip him over and give him the same treatment you provided to Gibbs.

But one of his hands grips your hip, the other working over his cock. Slowly, as to not get himself too close to the edge before he’s actually inside you. But as patient a man as Dwayne is, you can tell by the way he pants how much he needed this. Needed you.

So when he positions your hips in the right way, your spine arches to help. Granted, the help with nullified once Dwayne gently pushed the first inch inside - because you made a noise so fucking sweet, he could’ve came on the spot.

He doesn’t, though. It’s that famous self-restraint.

Dwayne does groan and screw his eyes shut when he gives a light thrust, pushing half his cock in. He wants more, but your gasp stills him. His cock is much thicker than his or Jethro’s fingers. It’s a stinging, delicious stretch that makes you grateful you have a leg around his hip; you tug him closer. Nearly all the way in, and that’s finally enough to make him swear.

His fingers will leave raisin-colored marks on your skin, that much is certain. But they still feel good - grounding, because the slow glide of his cock in and out surely would’ve made you forget how to breathe.

You’re more than willing to fall into the sensation of Dwayne, but suddenly, there’s a calloused hand on your cheek. Warm and strong and it prompts your eyes open. Dwayne and his gaping mouth and half-lidded eyes are visible for only a moment before your head is tilted to the side. And fire-lit golden skin is replaced with darkened cobalt eyes.

Jethro says not a word. You feel his breath on your lips, but he’s kissing you earnestly before you could babble out anything. A long moan - shamelessly wanton - rang against his lips because you’re too far gone with pleasure to even think, much less care.

Noses smush together. Tongues dancing and Jethro’s teeth nipped at your bottom lip, just to tease. And along the way, you wonder why the hell he keeps smirking. It doesn’t occur to you that Jethro finds it amusing that you whimper every time Dwayne hits a sweet spot.

Disappointingly, he breaks the kiss. Your eyes blink open, fighting to make out the blue in his eyes in the golden light of the fire. But Gibbs motions his head, silently beckoning your attention back to Dwayne. So you mindlessly follow his order and turn your head back. Your eyes meet Pride’s for just a moment, and it’s him who breaks the contact. Hanging his head to concentrate on keeping the (albeit sloppy) rhythm.

It’s still a fucking beautiful sight.

That’s when Jethro brushes his lips against the shell of your ear, his voice low and breath hot. “You like the way he’s fucking you?” He asks. “Like how it feels?”

Your brain isn’t in the state to be talking right now, so the most you can do is nod.

“You want me to fuck you like that?”

Again, you nod. More desperate, this time, as you keep watching Dwayne. His hips are going faster, harder, keeping less of a rhythm and more just chasing his orgasm.

Jethro pressing a soft kiss against the hinge of your jaw. “Can’t wait to hear you moan like that for me, honey.”

“Fuck!” Dwayne suddenly yelps. It’s loud, and you hadn’t been expecting a noise like that to come from him. And because of it, your attention wavers away from Jethro whispers things in your ear. Focus instead on Dwayne; his hips giving a few more sharp thrusts before he pulls out. His hand is instantly wrapped around his cock, pumping until streams of his cum shoot across your belly. Dwayne is breathing heavy with his eyes squeezed shut, moaning deep in the back of his throat until the orgasm passes. And his hand slows, languidly stroking his cock until he just stops altogether.

You hadn’t even noticed you were staring until Dwayne raises his head. Locks eyes with you and offers a small, shy smile. He’s still catching his breath, and the exertion makes his movements slow and wobbly. But after casting a brief glance to Gibbs, Dwayne moves away from between your legs. Collapses back on his bedroll next to you with a contented sigh.

“You really made a mess of things, King,” Jethro comments, moving to take his spot between your thighs. And a trail of goosebumps follow his hands when he moves them across your skin - you’re not yet so numb as to not feel the heat of his palms.

Dwayne lets out a small, almost disinterested hum. That’s when you shift slightly; throwing a smile up to Jethro as he uses his grip on your thighs to pull you closer. “I don’t mind the mess,” you tell him. Voice all hoarse and rough and the sound of it is enough to attract Dwayne’s attention. Make him just a little less groggy.

Jethro just huffed before his attention dropped between your legs. And you take advantage of the small moment of peace by looking sideways to Dwayne. He’s watching you, eyes heavy but bright with his half-smile - that post-orgasm affection. The tips of his fingers gently run over the skin of your arm. A feather-light touch that would’ve tickled, had you not been so fucked out.

The hitch of your breath didn’t come from Dwayne’s soft caress. It wasn’t anything so innocent; the blunt head of Jethro’s cock was the culprit, pushing through and stretching you back out with little warning.

The hitch became a gasp when Jethro gave an experimental thrust of his hips. Testing just how well you take him and gauging his speed. But by now, you were so wet and fucked open, it really didn’t take him much time to bottom out. Fingers tightly gripping your thighs, it didn’t matter to him that he was going second. Jethro’s sharp breath showcased his pleasure.

“God- fuck...”

So he did swear.

The air pushed from your lungs with each slow, deep thrust he took. And when Jethro found a quick rhythm, it didn’t help. He pushed your thighs up, knees apart, making ample room for himself to drive in over and over. And he knew he wouldn’t last too long; the memory of your hot mouth on his cock was still too fresh. But he was going to make you cum for a third time before he was done.

Past the blind pleasure and the weight of Jethro slamming against yours, there’s a pair of lips on your cheek. The soft fingers that had been stroking your arm now resting against your ribs, hand blossomed out like an orchid in bloom.

“You doin’ okay?” A low voice murmured in your ear. His nose nuzzled lightly against your temple; soft and affectionate.

Immediately, you turn your head to face him. And in that moment, you never needed Dwayne more than you did right now. Jethro was hitting all the best spots, but somehow, you needed more. “Dwayne,” you manage to whimper his name. Unable to say much more and praying he understood.

He’s known you for such a long time. Of course he caught on.

The way he kissed you wasn’t as rough and desperate as all the others have been. And in a way, that made it so much more intense. Dwayne’s tongue ran along your bottom lip, taking his time, letting you taste him and allowing himself to breathe you in. His hand stroked over your abdomen, further spreading his cum into your skin but not giving a damn about it.

And when Dwayne breaks the kiss to move down, his mouth once again latching onto your tits, your fingers instantly move to run through his hair.

Maybe because Jethro was getting rougher in his thrusts. Forcing you to climb up toward your third orgasm with him, and you just needed something to hang onto. Dwayne was the closest thing.

Case in point, when Gibbs slightly changed his position. His cock hammered in differently - better - and you cried out. Fingers tugging hard on Dwayne’s hair and making the poor man yelp into your soft skin. His head instinctively pulls away and, despite the pain, he’s wearing a sly smirk.

“S-sorry,” you manage weakly.

“Nah, you pull as hard you want,” Dwayne replies. And the soft, yet wrecked, sound of his voice is enough to give you goosebumps.

And with his mouth coming back to sucking hickeys into your skin, you’re well aware how fucking close you are to cumming again. Release so painfully near; a literal breath away. And from the look of Jethro, he’s in a similar state.

His thrusts have grown sloppy, large hands branding your thighs with fingerprint bruises; gripping them so hard to give himself leverage. Jaw dropped to catch his breath because you can tell the Marine is exerting a massive amount of self-control to keep himself from cumming. But even Leroy Jethro Gibbs has his limits, and it would be cruel to ask him to hold off much longer.

You angle your hips up just a little. “Jethro,” you call softly. His eyes rise to meet yours; hazy and dark in his pleasure. “Need you. Please. Please- fuck...make me cum again.” You’re not above pleading. Putting that extra edge in your voice to wind him up a bit more.

He swears; low and deep in his chest. Nearly sounding like a growl as one of his hands leaves your thigh, dropping in between your legs. And once Jethro quickly starts rubbing hard, tight circles around your clit, that’s when he starts falling over the edge. It’s not really his fault; you tightened up around him and cried out into the dark cabin and Jethro noticed how your fingers once again curled into Dwayne’s hair.

His body acts on its own - giving one, two more desperate thrusts before pulling out. The hand he used to help you cum instantly wraps around his cock, and Jethro even lets out a tight groan as his cum hits the inside of your thighs. It trickled down your leg slowly as he came down from his high, leaning back to sit on his feet. And yeah, he selfishly enjoys the image you lay out for him; panting and fucked out, painted with cum.

While Gibbs recuperated, Dwayne is actually the first to move. His eyes drag themselves away from you, glancing around the fire-lit cabin to find the shirt he’d so desperately tossed away. And when he spots the familiar fabric, he uses it to wipe away the mess he left behind on your belly.

Dwayne handed the shirt to Jethro, and he does the same with your thighs.

You listen as both men finally settle in on their respective bedrolls; their breathing still heavy, but slowly evening out. That’s when your eyes open, blinking up at the ceiling of Jethro’s cabin. The firelight flickers against the old wood; a strangely serene image. So starkly different from the images of hazy eyes and eager lips.

With things slowing down, it would be so easy to just close your eyes again. Your body feels weightless and it’s warm and you could so effortlessly fall asleep.

But Dwayne speaks up, cutting through the sound of crackling wood and howling wind. “Hey, Jethro?”

There’s a slight hesitance from Gibbs. “....Yeah?”

“I reckon we outta come out here more often.”

Maybe it’s you. All those endorphins still flew around in your head. Or maybe what Dwayne said was legitimately funny. But you burst out laughing, and Dwayne followed shortly after. And through it all, you even hear Jethro’s deep chuckles.

Your laughs had devolved into light giggles by the time Gibbs is pulling a blanket over you. It’s hard to tell whose blanket it is, actually, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s warm and comes with a soft caress over your hair from Jethro as you turn away from him.

Dwayne’s shoulder does make a damn fine pillow. And just in case it gets cold in the night again, the press of Jethro’s body against your back will assure you won’t freeze.

#ncis x reader #ncis new orleans x reader #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #dwayne pride x reader #ncis nola x reader #ncis reader insert

[wafflefries13]

A Wolf in Wolf’s Clothing

Hey there, it’s your girl, back at it with another story that probably took way too long to finish. 

Warnings: Fighting, cursing, threat of violence. 

~~~

It was fine. This was fine. Staying in a small cabin in the middle of the woods, getting back to nature, away from the city, away from those yakuza who were tracking you down because your dad had skipped out on the massive amounts of gambiling debt he had, and seriously, Dad, you knew he had a problem, not that he would ever listen to you, but did he really have to go and play mahjong, freaking mahjong, with some super sketchy people and really think everything was just going to be fine that he was going to be okay when he already had a massive pile of debt from that pyramid scheme that you told him was a pyramid scheme or the loss from that horse race last month, and seriously, Dad, this is why mom left-!

But it was fine. You were fine. 

The cabin was small, a one room structure that gave you flashbacks to ‘Little House on the Prairie.’ Thankfully, the owners had attached the outhouse to the actual house a few years back, installing a slim standing shower. Electricity came from either solar power or a gas generator hook-up out back, but there was no way you would ever get an internet connection all the way out here.  But it had a fireplace! That was pretty cool, right? 

You weren’t exactly sure how long you’d be out here. The detective from vice told you to stay off the grid as much as possible, that they’d get in touch with you, not the other way around. The police officer had dropped you off about an hour ago after bumping over an unpaved road tangled by tree roots and overgrown underbrush. You would never have been able to find this place by yourself. But you supposed that that was the whole point. 

You’d spent your first few hours there getting the cabin to an actual livable condition. Vice had told you that this place wasn’t used a lot, and you could immediately see it. Every surface was coated in a thick layer of dust. The windows were covered in who knows how many years of grime. Cobwebs littered with tiny insect carcases huddled in every corner and crevice. You were lucky you hadn’t found a racoon nest in the chimney flue. 

Finally, as the sun set, your muscles aching from the work, you decided that your temporary home was livable enough. You summoned all your knowledge from watching ‘Man vs Wild’ and lit a fire. You heated up a can of chicken noodle soup on the gas stove. The cabin didn’t have a bed, so you stacked several thick quilts stored in a cupboard, rolling out your sleeping bag on top. 

You sat on your makeshift bed, back pressed against the wall, slurping your soup. Outside the window, you watched as the light slowly faded away. Wow, you didn’t realize how dark it could really get out here. You put way too much stock in the light you could get from the moon and stars, apparently. There was no accounting for the noise, though. It sounded like a million different insects were screaming from the woods outside. You thought cricket noises were supposed to be comforting, like listening to the ocean to try and fall asleep. But this just made you itch and wish for another can of bug spray.  Man, vice really sent you out here with nothing, didn’t they? 

Sitting back and contemplating your possible execution via yakuza boss in the near future, it took you a while before you recognized the change. Every noise outside your four walls had fallen silent. The popping of logs in the fireplace was tantamount to gun fire. 

Slowly, you set down your half-finished can of soup, dragging a wooden bat out that you had snagged before the vice police shoved you in the car to bring you here. Staying as low to the floor as possible, you crawled to the front window. You pressed your back against the wall, like you had seen spies do in movies, and slowly lifted one corner of the thick curtains. You tried to crane your head to look out, but it hurt more than you thought it would and your visibility was cut by way more than half. 

Why hadn’t vice at least given you a gun or something? 

Taking a deep breath, you stood, holding the bat in front of you like a sword. Before you could convince yourself that this was a bad idea (too late) you burst open the front door, ready to swing at whatever you saw first. 

Noise exploded back into existence as soon as you stepped into the small clearing around the cabin. Panting heavily and breaking out in a cold sweat from the adrenaline, you whipped your head back and forth to look for intruders. Left? Clear. Right? Clear. Front? Clear. Behind-?! Wait, that was the cabin, you were just there. 

You felt all the energy leave you at once. The bat suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. You slumped forward, bracing your head on the backs of your hands settled on the pommel of the bat. 

You heard something from the other side of the cabin. A low groan, the result of footsteps. Gulping hard, you raised the bat again, silently making your way to the corner of the house. You whipped around the corner. 

A giant furry shape was slumped in a pile in front of you. It let out a low whine. You could see the powerful muscles under its thick fur coat ripple and stretch as the thing tried to get comfortable. Sensing your presents, it reared its large head, pinning you down with ruby red eyes. 

A wolf. There was a wolf in front of you. You had always assumed wolves would sort of look like giant dogs, but this close you could see how different they really were. This thing was huge, first of all. Its head would come up to your shoulder when it stood. It also had long thin legs, built for fast running and careening over obstacles. The wolf snared at you, its lips pulling back as a deep growl emanate from its throat. You could almost swear it was glaring at you. 

Its threat was cut short, however, by a pained yip. As it tried to stand, it faltered and fell over, back into a furry heap. You could see a patch of mismatched fur coating its back leg up along its haunch. The fur was matted, dark with something wet. 

You dropped the bat, holding your hands in front of you in what you hoped was a non-threatening pose. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” You said softly. “I’m just gonna… I’ll be right back.” You ducked back around the corner, heading into the cabin. You threw open the cabinet doors, rummaging for a first aid kit you could have sworn you saw somewhere while cleaning. You found the small white box, hoping that whatever was inside was as suitable for giant wolves as it was for people. 

You headed back out. Going around the cabin, you saw the wolf trying to stand and limp away again. He didn’t make it two steps before collapsing. Instead of a pained noise, this time he just left out a frustrated humph. You giggled despite yourself. The wolf’s head reared back around, locking eyes with you again. It growled at you. 

“I don’t think you look as menacing as you think you do right now,” You said. You tried to talk calmly in a low voice. That’s what you were supposed to do with frightened and injured animals, right? Well, you also were supposed to leave them alone and call animal control or something, but you didn’t really have the option of doing that right now. And you didn’t think you could sleep, much less live with yourself, if you knowingly just let this wolf suffer right outside your door. 

You took another step closer. The wolf snapped his jaws at you but didn’t move from his heap. “Hey, easy, big guy. I just want to help.” You held up the first aid kit, as if that was supposed to mean anything to a wild animal. The wolf glared at you, but didn’t make any movement as you took another cautious step forward. As you knelt down beside his injured back leg, he huffed again, turning his head away and resting it on his massive paws, resigned to accept you unasked for help. This close up, you could see his fur was an unusual blond. It reminded you of wheat fields just before harvest (not that you had ever seen that, being such a city kid, but pictures and imagination counted for something, right?). 

You opened the kit and pulled on a pair of gloves. Parting his fur, you hissed in sympathy at his wound. There was a gash slicing through his entire haunch, more wide than it was deep, but still bleeding profusely. You could see smaller cuts and bite marks, punchers in his flesh, littering the rest of his leg and up his back. Some of these wounds had already half-healed, but had reopened again, oozing and clotted. 

You threaded a hand comfortingly through his fur, speaking softly as you dabbed an antiseptic wipe along the largest gash. The wolf winced and barked at you in annoyance at the sting, but after a glare (you didn’t even know wolves could glare with such intensity before this), he resigned himself and plopped his head back down. There were some butterfly sutures that you hoped would stick on with his fur. You pushed them down, pulling the edges so the flesh closed. You tried your best to clean the other injuries, but you didn’t have a lot of butterfly sutures, and bandaids certainly weren’t going to stay down. 

As you were contemplating this, a chorus of howls erupted from the woods around you. The blond wolf sprung into action immediately, jumping up and circling himself around you. You probably would have thought that was amazing or cute or something if a sense of panic hadn’t seized you. The wolf was still limping, trying to keep his back leg off the ground. His head jerked from side to side, ears constantly twitching. Whatever was out there, you could only imagine that it was closing in, and it was out for blood. 

“Oh, this is going to be a bad idea,” You said to yourself. The wolf cocked his head at you. “But, hey, I’m not making any good choices tonight, I guess. Come on.” You picked up your abandoned bat, standing to guard the wolf from the tree line. You started backing up, genteling nudging the wolf with your hip in the direction of the cabin door. He seemed to get your meaning, limping along, but trying to maintain his sense of canine bravado by making threatening growls and fangs bared. 

Backing your way into the cabin, you quickly locked and barred the door. You had no idea if conventional locks would keep out blood-thirsty wolves, but you figured it wouldn’t do much against determined yakuza members either, so maybe you should just cut your losses. 

You heard a loud slurping and turned around. The blond wolf had his muzzle buried in your reheated soup, lapping it up and spilling everything that didn’t immediately make it into his mouth. 

“Hey!” You chastised. You could have sworn he rolled his eyes at you. Could wolves do that? Like, physically? His long tongue licked his chops when he was done. He took a few stumbling steps then collapsed by the fire. 

“Alright,” You said to yourself. “I guess this is happening, huh?” You could have sworn the wolf made a sound of agreement. 

~~~

You woke up to the sound of bird song and a mouth full of fur. 

Sputtering, you pieced together the events of last night in your head. The wolf had you pinned against the wall of your makeshift bed, his back pressed against your stomach and chest. You had a fleeting thought that he was putting himself between you and any danger that might break in. You had heard stories of mother wolves protecting human babies, maybe this was something like that? Or were you thinking of The Jungle Book? The founding of Rome? Whatever. 

Either way, it made you smile a bit, petting his fur. Wow, you had no idea wolf fur was so thick! Your hand just seemed to drop forever through his soft coat. Your action was enough to rouse the wolf from his sleep just a bit. He cast a tired glance over his shoulder at you. You could have sworn you could read his expression. “Really? You’re waking me up for this?” 

“Hey there, sunshine,” You said. “I should probably take another look at that leg, huh?” 

The wolf huffed, rolling over. You thought for a second he was giving you room to get up, but when you started to move he rolled back over, landing heavily across you and pinning you down. “That’s, uh, that’s a no then, huh?” The wolf just shuffled to a more comfortable position (on top of you) and closed his eyes. 

You sighed, reaching up and rubbing the fur between his ears. “This is my life now, huh?” 

He blinked open his eyes, staring right into yours. They were a deep red, almost like uncut garnets. You had no idea animals could have eyes like that. Not just that, but something about them looked almost too… human to you. The proportion of iris to whites just sort of off from what you would expect from your average dog. Before you could put your finger on it, the wolf closed his eyes and rested his head again. 

His heat radiated through you like a miniature sun. You pet through his fur, deciding to narrate your thoughts out loud. You told him about how you came to be in these woods, in this cabin, your struggles with dealing with your father's gambeling addiction for so many years, the fall festival you had gone to last year, how you wanted to start hiking now that you were trapped out here, this song you couldn’t remember the words to, summarizing the plot from some book you had to read for English class. 

After the sun had already started to rise high in the sky, the wolf (you really needed a name for him, huh?) slinked off of you. You let out an exaggerated breath, thumbing your chest a few times. He flicked his tail at you. 

You opened up the cooler you brought with you. Take two slices for yourself, you handed the wolf the rest of the sliced turkey you had bought for sandwiches. He ate the entire pack in one massive bite, looking at you expectantly for more. Huffing in mock annoyance, you tossed him the other two slices. He caught them in the air, flicking his tongue to get the juice from his canine maw. 

He tested his weight on his back leg. You could tell it still hurt him, but he still tried to walk with his other three legs. He stretched out, arching his back. “Oooh, big stretch!” You said. There was that glare again. 

He limped over to the door, scratching it. You opened it for him, assuming he had to do his doggy business or something (wait, was he trained to go outside? That would explain some things). But when you tried to close the door again, he barked at you. He scratched the door frame until you followed him outside. He would walk several feet ahead then sit, looking over at you and barking. You went back inside and tugged on your hiking shoes, spraying yourself down with a healthy dose of bug spray. 

The wolf was still pretty unsteady on his feet. He would stumble occasionally, but when you would put out a hand to help him, he would snap back at you. Whatever the case, he at least seemed to know where he was going. Even in his injured state, he could keep a good distance ahead of you. 

You heard water rushing as the wolf dropped out of sight. Thinking he might have fallen, you rushed to where you last saw him. The trees broke away, revealing a rippling river with cool pools stretching through the forest. You took in the beautiful scenery, the ice blue water cascading down tiny waterfalls, when sudden movement caught your eye. You focused where you saw it and gasped. A salmon jumped from the water, swimming upstream. That one was joined by another, then two more, until the whole river seemed to burst with fish. 

You laughed in shock and amusement at the sight, but were cut off short by something cold and slimy hitting your face. You sputtered against it, swiping it away from you. Looking down, you saw your assailant was flopping on the sandy river bank. A giant salmon, mouth gapping and scales shimmering in the sunlight. 

You heard a huff that you could have sworn sounded amused. Looking up, you saw the wolf at the edge of the bank, dipping his paw in the water. He looked deeply into the river, still as a rock, before striking all at once and bringing his paw up. He batted another fish out of the water. You put your hands up, catching it in a slimy, uncertain grip. The fish thrashed around and you ended up dropping him on his friend. 

“You know all the best places, huh?” You said. The wolf shook water off of his fur and went back to focusing on the river. “I’m going to run back and get the cooler! We’ll be able to carry a lot more that way!” You weren’t sure why you were telling a wolf this, as if he could understand you, but it felt right somehow. 

You carefully followed your footsteps back to the cabin, breaking a twig or making a mark on a tree as you went to make a path. Back at the cabin, you quickly pulled the food you had brought with you out of the cooler, shoving it in the mini-fridge. You didn’t have an ice maker in the cabin, so you hoped the already half-thawed cold packs would work. Almost as an afterthought, you grabbed the first aid kit, tossing it in the cooler. Luging the cooler over your shoulder, you followed your improvised markers back to the river. 

You set the bulky cooler down heavily on the bank, looking up with a wide grin for your new companion. Scanning the banks and treeline, your face gradually fell as your search turned fruitless. Your new wolf buddy was nowhere to be seen. 

At first, you felt sad that he had just up and left, then scared for his injury. He was still having trouble walking. What if whatever was prowling around your cabin last night came back and tried to take a bite of him? 

“Wolf?” You called out, almost immediately feeling like an idiot for doing so. You knew you should have named him. Although, it wasn’t like he was trained to respond to your call. You had to remind yourself that this was a wild animal and not a trained dog from the pound, despite his reluctant friendliness. “Wolf? Where’d you go, big guy? Hello?” 

“If you keep yelling like that, a whole pack is going to come and tear you apart.” 

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the very human response. Bracing your hands on your knees, you looked down the drop away from the bank to the river. There was a tiny beach there. Leaving against the sandy drop was a boy, head tilted back and face bathed in the sunlight. Despite his relaxed body posture, one leg spread out in front of him, the other bent to his chest, arms loosely crossed, he had an annoyed if not pained expression across his face. His hair was the color of fresh cut wheat, but as spiky as a porcupine. Lolling his head in your direction, he opened his eyes under furrowed brows. You thought it was a trick of the light, but you could swear they were a deep red. ‘Like garnets…’ You thought, memory jumping back to your missing wolf friend. 

“Uh, sorry,” You said. “I was just looking for-” 

And then your heart stopped as you suddenly remembered why you were out in the middle of the woods. The whole reason you had come here, why the police had dragged you away from your everyday life for your own protection. 

You tripped over your own feet flinging yourself backwards. You landed heavy on your butt. Scrambling back, your head whipped from side to side looking for something to defend yourself with. Damn it! You should have grabbed your bat when you got the cooler! 

“Hey!” He yelled up at you. “You going to keep spazzing out or give me a hand here?” 

“Depends,” You said. “What are you doing out here? We’re in the middle of nowhere.” 

“The hell do you think I’m doing? I work out here.” You saw his hand come up and grip the edge of the bank. He pulled himself up, but winced in pain. Bracing his arms against the bank, he said, “I’m a forest ranger, kind of. Tag some of the animals, make sure no one’s starting forest fires, keep poachers away, that sort of thing. I kind of got banged up here, though, can’t put a lot of weight on my ankle.” He rolled his eyes, leaving the statement hanging in the air for your response. 

“Oh!” Of course, you thought to yourself, you had no real reason to trust what he was saying. He didn’t look like a ranger, dressed in a black muscle shirt and dark green cargo pants. But you could tell he was having trouble standing. But then, that could be an act too… 

“Sure,” You finally decided. “Hang on.” You looked through the brush until you found a fallen tree branch. You lugged it over, dropping half down the bank and keeping it ancored under your foot. You held out your hand to him. He grasped just beyond your wrist, pulling up and using the branch and a foothold to push himself up. Once he was up on the upper bank, he tried to take a step. You could immediately see his ankle give out, crumbling like wet paper. He fell to his knees with an annoyed sound, catching himself on his palms. 

“You okay?” You said, retrieving the branch and not so subtly holding it in front of you. 

“Yeah, fine. Whatever.” He tried to brush you off. You could see his entire calf was wrapped in bandages. It looked like some wound had reopened and was bleeding through. 

“What happened?” You ask, nodding to his leg. 

He looked down, growling at the red soaking through the bandages. “I have to get pretty close to some animals for my job. Checking tags or making sure they’re not hurting themselves. I thought I’d tranquilized a bear, but I guess he wasn’t all the way under.” 

“A bear?! You fought a bear?” 

He waved a hand at you. “I didn’t ‘fight a bear.’ I was just trying to get a blood sample and must have spooked him. He took a swipe at me. I’ll be fine.” 

“That sure doesn’t look fine.” You pointed to his bandage. 

He clicked his tongue. “Damn it.” 

You rung your hands around the branch. “I have a first aid kit. I’m pretty good at it. I could take a look if you want.” 

He practically snarled at you, trying to stand up again. “I don’t need some-” As he tried to put weight on his ankle, he let out a choked yelp, cutting into that tough guy persona he obviously was trying very hard to portray. He lost his balance, wheeling his arms. You dropped your branch, lunging forward just as he fell. You caught him under his arms, throwing your balance off. You both fell, you landing on your back. You groaned, rubbing the back of your head. Opening your eyes, you squeaked seeing his face so close to yours, bright red eyes locked on to yours. Your mouth suddenly went dry and your face went hot. He was practically pinning you down. 

His face burst into a blush as he threw himself off of you. He crossed his arms stubbornly.  Looking away, he said, “Yeah, fine. Maybe I need a new bandage.” 

“C-cool! Yeah! Great!” Well, at least you were pretty sure he wasn’t here to kill you. That would have been a pretty good opportunity. Unless he wanted to slay you with embarrassment, which seemed like a possibility. 

You silently checked out his ankle, spraying it out with antibacterial and put a fresh bandage on it. At this rate, you were going to run out of medical supplies before the week was over. 

“Hey,” You said in an effort to break the tension. You noticed the tips of his ears were still a blushed red. “I don’t suppose you know anything about the wolves around here?” 

His eyes snapped back to you, suddenly suspicious. “There haven’t been wild wolves in this area for over a hundred years.” 

You blinked. “Wait, no, that can’t be. There was a wolf at my cabin last night. It sounded like he was being attacked by another pack or something.” 

He looked at you hard. “There haven’t been wolves here in a long time. If you think you saw one, you didn’t.” 

You huffed. “I’m pretty sure I know what I saw, not to mention felt. He spent the night in my cabin.” 

“What kind of idiot lets a wolf spend the night in their cabin with them?” 

“Ha! So you admit it could have been a wolf!” 

“I didn’t say that!” 

You smiled, leaning back on your hands and looking out over the river. “It was fine though. He seemed trained or something. A little prickly, but he was hurt so I didn’t mind.” You heard him mutter something that sounded like “not prickly.” You continued, “He disappeared this morning, though. Around here. I’m kinda disappointed. It’s kind of lonely out here. But hey! I guess I have a new friend now!” You good naturally punched his shoulder. He winced and you just now noticed the fading bruise. “Oops. Sorry.” 

“Sure you are. And who said we were friends, anyway? You don’t even know my name.” 

Putting on your most welcoming smile (and trying not to grimace at his tone), you held out your hand. “(Y/N) (L/N), trapped out in the middle of nowhere for the foreseeable future for reasons I cannot currently disclose. Very nice to meet you.” 

He looked from your hand to your face a few times. He looked like he was turning something over in his head. Flexing his hand, he lifted it up and gripped yours strongly. You could feel the heat radiating from it, like he was a living space heater. “Bakugo. And that’s all you’re getting.” 

You fake pouted. “We will be friends, mark my words.” 

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “What were you doing out here anyway?” 

“I told you, I cannot currently discloses that information.” 

He huffed a laugh. “What, are you a spy or something? Lost princess?” 

If only, you thought. “Something like that.” 

“Hmm. You don’t have a fishing rod.” 

“Uh, yeah. I was kind of counting on my wolf friend to help me out. He did this thing where he just sort of whacked them out of the water.” You mimicked the motion in the air. 

“For the last time, there aren’t any wolves around here. Just drop it.” 

“Fine, fine. There wasn’t a wolf even though there definitely was. And I don’t know what I’ll do, exactly. I suppose I can survive on canned soup, saltines, and beans for however long I’m stuck out here.” 

“That’s disgusting.” He leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head and looking up at the clouds. “Alright, here’s what you do. You at least have a knife, right? Good. I’m going to teach you how to make a fish weir.” 

For the next hour, Bakugo talked you through cutting reeds and shaping them into a W-shaped trap in the river. According to Bakugo, the V-like entrance made it easy for fish to get in, while the indented center made it hard or impossible to get out. After some (a lot) of trial and error,  you successfully trapped a huge salmon. 

“I got one!” You yelled in excitement. “I got it!” 

“Good for you,” Bakugo said. “Now take your knife and stab it.” 

“Yeah, what?” 

“Right behind the gills.” 

“Uh, right, okay.” For a few blissful seconds there, you forgot you had to kill a fish to be able to eat it. Using another reed you cut for an unsuccessful weir, you pinned the fish to the side. Wincing, you stabbed the fish’s gills, trying to ignore how it flopped around the trap. Spearing it on your knife, you hoisted it out of the water, flicking it onto the bank. 

“Oh, gross, gross, gross, gross, gross!”  You flapped your hands. Bakugo laughed at your distress. You tried to ignore how much you liked the sound. “Oh, shut up. It’s my first time.” 

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Your first time, huh? Glad I could walk you through it.” 

You felt yourself flush. “Oh my god!” Without thinking too much about it, you speared another fish in the trap, using your knife to fling it. The half alive fish landed smack on his chest, flopping around in a mess of falling scales and fish slime. 

He sputtered, slapping it away. He snarled, “Hey!” 

You laughed, hands resting on your thighs. “What? Now we both have dinner.” 

Catching a few more and storing them in your cooler, Bakugo taught you how to make a box-like campfire. Creating a grill with your reeds, you roasted some of the fish over the fire, picking it off with your fingers. You both sat by the river and watched the sun set. 

Not wanting your time together to end, but becoming too aware of the late hour, you said, “I should probably get back to the cabin. Not sure I could find it in the dark.” 

Bakugo shrugged. He struggled to stand up, waving you off when you tried to help him. Taking a few separate steps, he gripped a low hanging branch from a tree. With a thunderous crack, he ripped the branch off. Pulling off a few twigs, he held it under his arm as a makeshift crutch. 

“Hey,” He said, not looking at you. It sounded like he was deliberating something. “If you ever need help, I’m usually at the fire watchtower. See? You can see the roof from here. It’s about two miles that way.” He pointed over the tree line. You could just make out the top of a brown corrugated roof. 

“Sure you don’t want to take any of these back?” You asked, motioning to the cooler of fish. 

“Naw. You need all the help you can get.” 

“Hey!” As he wandered off, you yelled to him, “Watch out for the wolves!”

“There aren’t any wolves!” 

“You’ll believe me eventually!” 

~~~ 

You methodically tapped your fingers against the mug you held, letting the heat of your hot chocolate seep into your fingers. You were sitting in a folding chair just outside the cabin, bat leaning against the chair’s arm. You were snuggled up in a heavy blanket, watching the fireflies dance through the heavy trees, trying to remember consolations. 

But really, if you were being honest with yourself, you were waiting for the wolf. 

It didn’t matter if Bakugo said he wasn’t real. You knew what you saw. Maybe he had escaped from some conservation area or zoo? And he seemed used to people, so maybe he was trained? But that didn’t explain the howls you heard as you tended to the wolf’s wounds. It definitely sounded like some rival pack was hunting him down. 

It broke your heart to think of him all alone and injured out there. 

As if called by your thoughts, a round of howling rose from the depths of the forest. You jumped to your feet. The hot chocolate sloshed from your mug, burning your hand. Frantically waving your hand to ease the burn, you didn’t notice the heavy foot falls until it was too late. You turned as the thumping was right behind you. 

It felt like you were hit by a train. Your breath left you with a ‘woomp.’ Falling hard, your arms came up to wrap around what had just barrelled into you, catching it like a football. You would like to say that you were more surprised than you actually were  when your fingers dug into thick fur and bursts of dog breath panted in your face. 

“Hey there, Golden Boy,” You said, rubbing between his ears. You had decided on his name, Golden Boy, while trying to convince Bakugo of his existence. It seemed apt given his brilliant coat.  Your wolf friend yipped at you. Scrambling off, he crouched down in an attack position, growling at the trees. “Come on, bud.” You juggled your folding chair, blanket, bat, and (now empty) mug, pushing open the cabin door with your hip. The wolf backed into the cabin, eyes never leaving the tree line, lips curled into a snarl, until you closed and locked the door again. 

You took out a bowl from the cabinets. Opening a bottle of water, you filled up the bowl, placing it near the tired wolf. Crawling over on his stomach, he didn’t even lift his head as he started to lap at the water. 

“Yikes,” You said. “Rough night, huh?” You ran a hand along his back. He managed a half-hearted glare at you before deciding it wasn’t worth it and going back to his water. 

“So, you’re a wolf, right?” He ignored you, which is what you expected. But you always had a habit of talking to animals like they could talk back. “Because I met a guy today, yeah, I’m not the only person stranded out here, can you imagine, and he said there aren’t any wolves in this area. I mean, I guess you could just be a really big dog. You ever seen an Irish wolfhound? Probably taller than me. Or a Caucasian shepherd dog? I hear they used to breed those in Russia to hunt bears.

“I guess it’s kind of nice to have someone else around. Not that you’re not great company.” Could wolves roll their eyes? “Just… It can get kind of scary out here, you know? Well, probably not, you live in the woods and all. No offence and all, but this isn’t really my idea of a vacation.” 

You leaned against the wall, sitting cross-legged on your bed pallet. Golden Boy shuffled to you, resting his massive head in your lap while you checked his wound and changed the dressing. It seemed to be healing rapidly, way faster than you would have expected. 

“The truth is,” You continued. “I’m actually in hiding. There are some people who, uh, I’m pretty sure they want me dead. Maybe not me specifically. My dad made some bad choices, hey, that can be the title of my autobiography, and now I’m paying for it.” 

You felt your throat tighten up as a wave of emotion snuck up and crashed over you. You hiccuped, pressing your lips together as you tried not to cry in front of your canine audience. He looked up at you, wide, deep red eyes. Your eyes burned as tears threatened to spill out. 

Without warning, Golden Boy jerked his head up, wiping his long, wet tongue across your cheek, ineffectively wiping away your tears. You sputtered at the dog drool, breaking out into a giggle fit as he kept licking your face. 

“Okay, okay, I get it, stop already! I have a big, strong protector here to take care of me, huh?” He buried his head in your lap again. You  rubbed his ear between your fingers. “And I’ll take care of you, too. You know that, right? We’re in this together.” 

~~~

“Bakugo! I’ve come to pester you!” 

The next day, you awoke to find your wolf friend missing. You weren’t exactly sure how he managed to get out of the cabin since all the doors and windows were still securely closed, but you’d seen videos of pets doing weirder things. Maybe you should have named him Houdini. After cleaning up the cabin a little and finding a more stable storage space for the salmon you caught yesterday, a deep loneliness started gnawing at you. Stowing a tin of shortbread cookies under your arm, you set out in the direction of the river to find the watchtower Bakugo had pointed out to you yesterday. 

You finally found it about midday, only being scared to death at the possibility of getting hopelessly lost twice. You climbed up the high stairs to the box structure on top. The sides were made up of mesh screens, covered from the inside by thick curtains, you guessed so that he could keep an eye out for possible forest fires. 

“Hello? I brought an offering!” 

You heard some grumbling and banging around from inside the box. You heard a heavy lock slide open as the door cracked open. Bakugo’s ruby eyes met yours and you felt a pang of worry for your Golden Boy. 

“An offering, huh?” Smiling, you held up the tin. “Fine. I guess that’s a good enough reason to bug me.” 

You practically skipped inside. Bakugo pulled at the curtains causing them to zip up and spin on their rollers. The room was cluttered, which you mostly expected from going over to your bachelor friend’s houses. What you didn’t expect was exactly how it was cluttered. It wasn’t like clothes had been dropped on the floor and forgotten, a pile of dirty dishes and overflowing trash. The reality was more chaotic, like someone had turned over the place robbing it. Papers about the geography, flora, and fauna of the forest were strewn on every flat surface. The cot bed was stripped bare, looking like it hadn’t been slept in in days. There was a tall stack of books stacked on a table next to a wooden folding chair half pushed under a desk. A cork board was above the desk, red string connecting bits of cut-out newspaper articles, Polaroid photos, sticky notes with chicken-scratch handwriting, and marked-up calandras. 

Bakugo half-heartedly picked up a shirt from the ground. “Wasn’t really expecting company.” 

You shrugged. “You a big reader?” 

You set the cookie tin down, picking up one of the books. Its pages were marked with various colored tabs. Flipping through the pages, you saw blocks of text that had been highlighted. The book fell open to reveal a copy of a wood-cut illustration of a large man with a wolf head. His snout was pointed to the sky, jaw open in mid-howl. In his meaty hands, tipped with razor sharp claws, he cradled a woman in some medieval German peasant dress. Her head was fallen back, eyes rolled back in her head, a blood stain spreading across her neck and chest. In the background, a mass of angry villagers marched forward, armed with the standard torches and pitchforks. A bone white full moon hung overhead. 

Bakugo snapped the book closed in your hands. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to snoop through people's stuff?” 

“I wasn’t snooping,” You said defensively. “And just so you know, no, they didn’t. My folks weren’t exactly the etiquette type.” 

“Clearly.” 

“Hey!” 

He smirked at you, prying open the cookie tin and munching on a piece of shortbread. You sat down in the folding chair, looking down dubiously when it creaked under you. 

“So, how does a guy get a gig hanging out in the middle of the woods, anyway?” 

“How do you?” 

You pressed your lips, trying not to let Bakugo feel the sudden drop in your mood. You blinded him with a smile. “Maybe I just really like bird-watching.” 

“Sure. Bird-watching.” 

You swallowed a lump in your throat. Standing, you turned away and looked out the messy windows, taking in the acres upon acres of unspoiled wilderness. “Wow, you can see for forever up here.” Squinting, you saw the dip in trees around your cabin, the red roof just barely visible. “Hey, that’s my place!” You looked over your shoulder at him and winked. “You’re not spying on me, are you?” 

He popped in another cookie, wolfing it down in one bite. “You wish.” 

You hummed, looking back out over the trees. “Can you..” You trailed off. “Can you see if people come into the woods?” 

He came over to stand next to you, hiding the tin in the crook of his arm. “I don’t get records of who comes in or out, if that’s what you mean. That’s for the rangers at the front gates. I see campfires, sometimes. Need to make sure they don’t get out of control.” 

“And if someone, or, like, a group, maybe, was trying to sneak in? Like, not going through the front gates so there was no record of them being here?” 

He paused mid-bite and looked at you sideways. “You’re hiding.” 

You mock-laughed. “What? No, no. Of course I’m not hiding. Why would I be hiding?” 

“(Y/N),” He cut you off. He moved his head so you were forced to look directly into his ruby-red eyes. 

You crossed your arms and looked away. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.” 

He leaned back. “That’s okay. But, hey, we can look out for each other, yeah?” He curled his biceps, flexing his muscles. “Besides, you got a big, strong protector here, don’t ya? You don’t have anything to worry about.” 

“Big, strong protector, huh?” You echoed. 

He leaned closer, eyes half lidded. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Yeah.” 

You suddenly became away of how close you two were standing, how you could smell the remnants of the sweet cookies on his breath, about how soft his hair looked and thinking about what it might be like to run your hand through it, about how his muscles looked when he flexed them. 

You blinked hard, jerking yourself out of this impromptu daydream. You felt the tips of your ears burn as your face flushed. 

“The wolf came back last night,” You blurted. 

His eyebrows furrowed, mouth falling from a sultry smirk to a frustrated frown. “He did, huh?” 

“Yup! I named him, even. Golden Boy. Cause his fur is this really pretty yellow, you know? Kind of like your hair, but less shaggy.” Before you could stop yourself, you reached up and messed his bed-head. Good god, it was just as soft as you thought. 

He pulled away, scrunching his nose and fixing his hair. “Th-that’s stupid. Why would I look like some dog?” 

“So you admit he’s real?” 

“I said dog, not wolf. His owner probably just dropped him off in the woods somewhere. It’s sad, but it happens. Sounds like he’s doing alright for himself.” 

“I wouldn’t say that exactly.” You leaned on your elbows. “Every night he’s come to my cabin he’s been pretty beat up. Could another animal be targeting him? A bear or another wolf - sorry, abandoned dog?” 

Bakugo looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, maybe. There’s a lot of dangerous creatures out in those woods.” His voice dropped low. “A lot of dangerous creatures.” 

You looked over at the stack of books, the one with the werewolf illustration placed haphazardly on the top. “Like werewolves?” You joked. 

He didn’t answer you. 

~~~

“Buckle up, Golden Boy, we are going on a field trip.” 

It was night again a few days later. You’d spent almost two weeks in the woods by this point. Your days were mostly spent hanging out with Bakugo in the fire watch tower or hiking through the forest with him. He’d given you a blank mole-skin notebook. You’d started sketching and labeling plants and animals you saw on your hikes with him. He’d ramble off information he’d learned from preparing for this job. While your drawing skills needed some improvement, you liked the calm, methodical motions and scratch of pen on paper, taking note of the tiny details that made one plant safe to eat and different from the poisonous one. 

Your nights were spent with Golden Boy. His wound had long since cleared up, surprisingly fast, but don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all. You weren’t exactly sure why he kept coming to you at night. He obviously didn’t need any help finding food. Maybe he felt safer with you behind protective walls? A few times, you thought you saw reflective eyes in the depths of the trees, watching as you let Golden Boy inside the cabin as the moon rose. Or maybe he really did used to be someone’s pet and just felt lonely abandoned out here. He’d always be gone by the time you woke up, no matter how many times you’d fallen asleep leaning against him or curled under your arm. 

You’d also  kept arguing his existence to your hot-headed friend. Tonight, you finally decided to prove yourself right. You were going to bring your proof right to his front door. 

“Come on,” You said, clapping your hands at the wolf lounging by the fire. “You’re going to help me rub some sweet ‘I told you so’ in a cute guy’s face.” He raised his head at you, giving you a look you had come to read from his doggy face. “What? He is. Or maybe I’ve just been stranded in the woods for too long.” You shrugged. Golden Boy let out his ‘you’re ridiculous’ puff of air noise and flopped over so the fire could warm his belly. You took two quick steps forward and rubbed your hand over his belly, it sinking into the thick fur. He let out a surprised yip and curled up, nipping at your hand before licking it and resigning himself to your attention. 

You laughed, heading back to the door. “Come on! I haven’t gone hiking at night before. Think of all the cool nocturnal animals I can record in my journal. And I need my bodyguard, right? It’ll be fun-“ 

You cut yourself off. You opened the door, freezing as you came face-to-face with a fist, poised to knock. Looking past the fist, your throat went dry, heart dropping into your stomach, head going fuzzy. A man stood there in an expensive looking suit. He looked a little surprised, then flashed a wide used-car-salesman smile. One of his teeth was golden. You could see scars criss-crossing his knuckles and up one of his cheeks. His hair was practically a helmet with all the pomade in it. 

“Well, hello there!” He said, chipper. That somehow made it worse. “I don’t suppose you’re (Y/N) (L/N), are you?” 

The door blurred as you slammed it shut. Just before it closed, the man stopped it with his hands, which now seemed way too large and strong. You tried pushing it closed, but your muscles, even flooded with the adrenaline shooting through your veins, were no match for his. 

You stumbled backward as he threw the door open. You saw several more equally if not more menacing men behind him. One was rolling up his sleeves, one checking the knuckle-dusters shining on his hands, one methodically fiddling with the safety on a gun. 

You backed away, stopping when the back of your calves nudged into Golden Boy, who was now standing, a low growl emanating from his throat. 

“Hey there, pup,” The smiling man said. He leaned down, rubbing his fingers together to encourage Golden Boy to come forward. Your wolf just snapped his fangs. “Aw, well. You hate hurting animals, but sometimes it’s just a hazard of the job.” He drew out a long hunting knife from a sheath shoved in his belt loop. It glistened in the fire light. 

You were going to throw up. 

“I don’t know anything,” You said, hating the waver in your voice. How could you have become so comfortable, so careless? Where the hell was your bat? “I don’t know where my dad is, I don’t know where your money is. I don’t know anything, I promise.” Tears were blurring your vision, stinging the back of your eyes. 

“I’m sure you don’t, sweetheart,” He said. The other men crowded in through the door. The cabin suddenly felt ten times smaller. “But, you know, loose ends.” 

Yellow blurred in your vision. Golden Boy flashed in front of you, powerful jaws clamping down on the man’s knife hand. He yowled in pain and shock, the knife clattering to the floor. The other men were stunned for a moment before lunging forward. One hit Golden Boy hard on the back of his head, another grabbing his back legs and yanking hard. Golden Boy kept his death-grip, red oozing from his mouth. 

You scrambled backward, head whipping around to look for your bat. It now felt woefully useless. There, cast off in a corner. You’d been using it to dry dish towels. 

It felt like 100 pounds in your hands. 

You heard an unsettling thump followed by a yelp. Whipping around, you saw the man had managed to dislodge Golden Boy, throwing him against the wall. You cried a broken noise. You felt a hand grab the scruff of your neck. You jammed the bat behind you, connecting with the soft bulge of the man’s stomach. He “oof”ed and his grip loosened. You flung yourself forward, landing hard on your knees, and scrambled up. The door was wide open, the men temporarily distracted. You didn’t think twice. 

You shot up, sliding like a baseball player going to home plate in front of Golden Boy. You held your bat in front of you like Excalibur itself. 

“Don’t you fucking touch my dog!” You’d never said anything with such venom in your voice, but you still didn’t feel like it was enough to appropriately express your rage. Golden Boy shook his head, getting back to his feet. He stood by your side, head lowered between his shoulders, baring his teeth stained with blood. 

The smiling man, who was now scowling in disgust, wrapped his bleeding hand with a way too expensive handkerchief. “God, typical. I hate dogs. Let’s hurry up and finish this.” 

The one with the gun raised it, pointing it right between your eyes. You stood fast, gripping the bat so hard your hands were turning white. 

You wanted to see Bakugo. It hit you like lightening that that was who was coming to your mind. You wanted to say something to him, an explanation of why you wouldn’t wake him up tomorrow morning. You wanted to make him promise he would take care of Golden Boy, after making him admit that you were right about the wolves. You wanted to hug him, to go on a walk someplace other than the woods, you wanted to cook a real meal in a real kitchen with him, you wanted to wake up in the morning with him at your side, Golden Boy at your feet. 

You wanted so many things you knew you wouldn’t be getting. So you had to focus on what you could get. You wanted Golden Boy to get out of here, to be safe. And by hell or high water, you were going to do that. 

You swung the bat back, aiming for the gunman’s wrist. You would knock the gun out of his hand, grab Golden Boy, kick him if you had to, get him out the door to get a head start. You’d probably get shot in the back doing it, but maybe the loud noise would startle him into running away. As long as he was safe, what else mattered? 

One second you were staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, making peace with yourself. The next, the gun was gone, and so was the man. Blinking, you looked around to see where he had disappeared to. The other men, equally baffled, didn’t have time to react as they were tackled to the ground along with their firearm friend. 

Golden Boy was in front of you, pushing you back by leaning his weight against your legs. You watched as your tiny cabin filled with giant wolves, gray, red, black, brown, all with flashing fangs and claws. One man with a knife reared up, pulling his arm back to throw the knife at you. Materializing out of thin air, a new man, one you hadn’t seen before, appeared behind him, catching the first in a headlock and pulling him down until he went limp in a choked-out sleep. 

The new man snarled, whipping his head around to stare right into your soul. And he was naked. How did you not notice that? The man looked like he threw full grown trees around for fun, and cut them down for work. Every inch of skin, and there was a lot of skin, had some scar tissue or mark indicating a life of hard-scraps. 

His eyes snapped down to Golden Boy, still setting himself firmly between you and the raucous crowd. The man jerked his head to the open door. “Wait outside,” He said, voice unbelievably gruff and low. “We’ll take care of this.” 

“Okay?” You said, voice loose. You felt like you were going to faint. You grounded yourself with a tug on your sleeve. Looking down, you saw Golden Boy, his teeth gently closed around your sleeve. He somehow managed to avoid looking at you, pulling you on unsteady feet out in the cool night air. He kicked the door shut with his hide leg as soon as you were out. 

All of your energy left you at once. You slumped against a tree, forehead leaning on your knees and blood rushing back into your hands as you dropped your bat. You sat there, still save for the involuntary tremors that racked your body, for who knows how long. 

You heard a quiet whimper. Peeking your eyes through your fingers, you saw Golden Boy. He was pacing, eyes downcast and tail tucked between his legs. He was limping a little, his old wound bothered in no small part due to being bodily thrown against the wall. 

“Hey,” You said softly. He jerked to a stop and looked up at you, bringing his eyes back down in a guilty expression. “It’s okay. Come here.” You held your hands out, palms up and fingers splayed. He trotted over to you, resting his enormous head in your hands and laying down, his chest pressing on your legs. You buried your face in the thick fur on the back of his neck. “It’s okay. We’re okay.” 

When the cabin door creaked open, panic seized your adrenaline abandoned muscles. Your hand shot to the bat, its strange weight now frighteningly familiar. Golden Boy barely stirred in your lap, only lazily opening his eyes and shifting closer to you as if hiding from some sort of punishment. 

The burly man stepped out first, still naked, you (unfortunately) noticed. He had two yakuza members with him, one slung over each shoulder, limp and unmoving. Next came three huge wolves, one of them walking backward while pulling along another gang member by the cuff of his pants. A woman came out with him, also naked, with the longest hair you had ever seen, similarly scuffed and scraped as the first man. She was followed by two more wolves. The strange group dumped the bodies of your attackers in a haphazard pile near the tree line. Were they dead? You couldn’t tell. God, which option was better? 

The man stretched, thick cords of muscle rippling under his skin. He sighed, like a tired parent, and turned to you. You cut your gaze away quickly, making sure to keep your eyes above a certain level. 

“Are you badly hurt?” His voice was the same low rumble of an earthquake. 

“Um, no. I-I think we’re okay. Thank you.” 

He hummed, rolling his shoulders. “No thanks necessary. We stand for our own, no matter the pack.” 

“I’m sorry, pack?” You asked, voice squeaking. Your brain was working overtime to process everything. 

“Hmph.” The man looked disappointed but not surprised. He nudged Golden Boy with his foot. The wolf whined again, turning his head away. “You still can’t shift on command? How are you meant to lead your pack when you can’t do the most basic things?” Golden Boy whined and grumbled. 

“I-what? What does any of this have to do with my dog?” You wrapped your arms protectively around him. 

The man quirked an eyebrow. “A wolf without a pack is a dangerous thing. A lone creature who can’t even control his own body needs to be culled. Now that he has found a pack, he has a greater responsibility. He’s part of a whole, not only himself.” 

“Hang on-” You tried to stand up only for Golden Boy to shove his weight down on you harder. “Were you the ones hurting Golden Boy? What’s the matter with you? Why would you hurt an animal? And, sorry, but why are you naked? I tried not to say anything but it’s kind of bothering me a lot.” 

The man stared you down, looking back to your wolf. “You didn’t tell her anything?” Golden Boy whined. The man sighed. “This will be more difficult than I thought. Our pack must move. We’ve completed our duty.We’ll deal with this… refuse.” He looked at the unconscious yakuza. He nudged Golden Boy again. “Take care of this one. He has a lot to learn.” 

The man turned, a yell building in your throat. In front of your eyes, he shifted, skin sprouting silver gray hair. You heard the pop of bones as the man seemed to fall over, but you quickly realized his entire body structure had changed. Where a person had once stood, a wolf walked. The woman from before was also gone, now just the group of wolves. The gray wolf looked back at you, nodding once, before raising up a howl with the rest of his pack. 

When you finally managed to feel your heartbeat slow to a non-life-threatening level, you looked down. “Alright, we have a lot to talk about, because apparently you can do that?” Golden Boy turned away from you. “Yeah, alright, nap first. Nap sounds good.” 

You passed out. 

~~~ 

You woke up with a headache knocking at your temples. Your mouth felt thick with cotton. You felt warm, gradually taking note of the blanket that had been carefully draped over you. Blearily opening your eyes, you watched dust motes float through shafts of light that filtered through the curtains on your cabin windows. You must have forgotten to dose the fire before you went to bed. It was still crackling in the fireplace. 

“Golden Boy?” You said, voice craggy. Why were you still wearing your day clothes? “Yout there, bud?” 

A knuckle rapped gently on your forehead. “Exactly how hard did you hit your head?” 

You shot up, immediately regretting it as pain flared up your spine to bloom in your skull. “Whoa, hey, take it easy.” A pair of hands steadied your shoulders, helping you sit up. 

You blinked hard, looking up into now familiar red eyes. “Bakugo?” 

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “You can call me Katsuki now, you know. I think we’re close enough, after everything.” 

“Everything-? Oh. Oh! Oh my god!” You tried to jump up, knees giving out underneath you. Your limbs felt like they were encased in lead. 

“I told you to take it easy, dumbass,” Bakugo, Katsuki, said. He caught you before you fell, helping you sit back down. He stood up, going to the stove and sliding a pancake on top of a stack, still steaming. Pulling half onto a separate plate, he came back, handing one to you.

Numbly, you took it, tearing a piece off and shoving it in your mouth. “You have pecans in here.” 

“We didn’t have any syrup, so I thought this would be a good substitute. Having pancakes on their own is kind of boring.” 

“Sure. Yeah. So.” You let it hang there, watching him avoid your eyes and much on pancakes. 

He swallowed. “So.” He ate half of another one before continuing. “I’m a werewolf.” 

You blinked. “Okay.” 

He scowled. ‘There it is,’ You thought. “‘Okay’? That’s all you have to say?” 

You shrugged. “I mean, what else am I supposed to say? I’m pretty sure a group of werewolves saved my life last night. I literally saw a guy turn into a wolf, so that checks out. I might still be in shock a little bit, to be honest. So, uh, werewolf, huh?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes and shoving another pancake in his mouth. You cracked a smile and joked, “Well, you sure eat like a dog.” He punched your shoulder. You both laughed anyway. 

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” He said eventually. “I don’t think anyone does. I got bit by a rogue wolf. Turned pretty soon after. I’m not going to lie, I did some pretty bad stuff. I was freaked out, half out of my mind, those wolf instincts kicking in. It’s not an excuse, but… I got a job out here, thought I could isolate myself, research to see if I could find a cure or something. The pack found me almost immediately. I mean, I practically waltzed right in to their territory, so I can’t blame them. That rule they have, it’s true. A lone werewolf, someone without a pack, they’re dangerous. Unpredictable. They tried to… put me down. I usually managed to get away, but one night I made a stupid mistake. I should have died.” He looked up at you. “And then I ran in to you.” 

“And then you ran in to me.” You reached out, petting your hand through his hair. It was still soft, whether as a golden wolf or a human. “So, I’m your pack now? That’s what that guy said, the other werewolf. What does that mean, exactly?” 

He blushed, pulling apart his remaining pancakes. “A pack is like a family. They look out for each other, stand with each other. I didn’t tell them we were a pack or anything. I guess they just sort of inferred. Since, like, we’ve been spending a lot of time together, no matter what form.” 

You grinned. “They think you’re my boyfriend?”  He punched you again, with less malice this time. “Hey, I didn’t say I minded.” 

“It’s a lot,” Katsuki continued quickly, the words all rushing out as if he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to say it all. “I still don’t know a lot about all this. I always shift at night. I’m trying to get better at controlling it, but it’s hard. And it’s hard to go through all the history and stuff and pull out fact from fiction. I feel like I can’t control anything and I’m so fucking useless and I-“ 

You pressed your lips against his. Finally. His lips were chapped, and your teeth clacked together at first, but the warmth that spread through your chest made it all worth it. A plate clattered against the floor as he shifted closer to you. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, bringing you closer. Your fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt, pulling. 

He pulled back, your breath mixing together. 

“I think I like the woods, now,” You said, softly. “It’s nice out here. Good company.” He chuckled, lowley. “And I like you. A lot. And I love dogs.”

He laughed loudly, once, before pulling you back in for another kiss.

#fanfic #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha #my hero academia #werewolf!bakugo #reader insert #just some self indulgent fluff

[comeonpeters]

and so it begins

also on ao3

@troped-fanfic-challenge round 2 contribution

Theme: Fluff

Trope 1: Exes

Trope 2: Time Loop AU

Trope 3: Camp Counselors 

Trope 4: Prank Wars

It’s the first day of their second week at Camp Carolling (they’re spending an entire month, and they’re getting paid to be there!) when Reggie gets a little lost in the woods. It’s cool! Alex was also with him, so he has the kids, because Alex Mercer does not get lost, so Reggie is in the clear on that part. There’s a reason why he paired up with Alex for a lot of the wandering through the forest bits of the counseling misadventures, and it’s not just because Alex is his best friend in the whole world (no offense, Luke, but Alex really had laid a claim on him their first summer by dealing with his eccentricities by treating him just the same as everyone else), but also because of Alex’s excellent sense of direction, which had not rubbed off on Reggie at all, unfortunately. And it’s not to say that Luke isn’t also his best friend in the world! Or that Julie isn’t too! It’s just that Alex is his favorite, and Reggie really wishes he had stuck closer, because boy he doesn’t know where he is. 

He’s walking past a rock that’s shaped exactly like an egg when he notices it. Not the egg shaped rock, though he notices that too, obviously, because it’s shaped like an egg, but the cabin. There’s a cabin. On the Camp Carolling property. 

That can’t be allowed. But it can’t be new, either, because how would they have moved an entire cabin onto the Camp Carolling property without someone noticing? Someone would totally have noticed someone lugging all of those stones and logs into place, even if the forest is made of stones and logs, they still had to be moved from their original places to this one place, and really, they shouldn’t have some random stranger around all these kids. And, Reggie is an employee. It’s, like, his job to keep these kids safe. Right? That’s how it works, right? It’s only his second week being a counselor, and he’s not really sure how good he is at it. He’s only eighteen! Maybe he shouldn’t be the one investigating some creepy, middle-of-the-woods cabin at all. Maybe he should go get Alex-

It’s the thought of bringing Alex back here, the thought of Alex or Luke or Julie having to investigate something scary that has him investigating it himself. He can tell them about it when he gets back. Everything will be fine. There’s probably nobody out here anyway, right? Maybe it’s just an old cabin, like from before the camp plot was even bought, and Reggie is worrying over nothing. He’s acting like Alex! He’s being silly. 

A bush of flowers, the bulbs burgundy and nearly the size of Reggie’s hand, grows near the door of the cabin. They’re healthy enough that somebody is obviously taking care of them, hedged back from the door in a way that is most likely intentional, but Reggie still tells himself that he’s not going to get an answer as he knocks, ever so gently, on the door. He tells himself that he is only doing so out of caution. He’s doing it out of a professional obligation. This is his second job (the ice cream shop that he works at during the school year is his only legal job, seeing as Sunset Curve gigs and Julie and the Phantoms shows aren’t really consistently enough to count as a regular job, he thinks), and he is a good employee, losing Lex and the kids beside. He knocks on the door a second time, and it rocks gently open, though no one has opened it for him. 

Christ on a bike, that’s creepy. 

“Come on in then, dear, the tea’s almost done,” a voice calls from inside, a woman’s voice that sounds ancient. A shiver runs down Reggie’s spine, but he steps in anyway. It’s polite, right? He’s been invited. It’s not like he’s a vampire or anything, he doesn’t have to be invited to go into places, but it’s rude not to go into places when you’re invited, but anyway- The little cabin has unfinished stone and wooden walls on the inside as well, squat and homey, and Reggie feels a wash of warmth run over him that he hasn’t felt since-

He hasn’t felt this much at home since Bobby kicked them out of the studio. Playing at Julie’s studio (their studio now, her and Ray, her dad, they’ve reassured Reggie that it’s as much his home as theirs if he wants it to be, but it still doesn’t feel that way) still doesn’t feel… it doesn’t feel like this. This reminds him of his grandmother’s house back in Tennessee, the way it felt when she would set her guitar in his lap and put her fingers over his and teach him how to play. He should probably say something. 

“Um. Hi. I’m Reggie. I’m one of the counselors at Camp Carolling? Do they- do they know you’re out here? I didn’t think anyone was supposed to live out here,” he says awkwardly, tripping over himself as he stands awkwardly in the entryway. There’s a counter and cabinets between the entryway and the kitchen, so he can’t see the ancient-sounding woman who called him in, but he doesn’t want to come further into the cabin, even as homelike as it feels. He picks at the flannel wrapped around his waist nervously, wanting to bite at his nails, but Julie just painted them, and she’s asked him to stop biting them when she’s just painted them, and-

“Oh, they know me, dearie. Come have a seat, won’t you? As I said, the tea’s nearly done, and I’d love to have someone to drink it with. You look like you could use a good cup,” the lady says as she steps past the counter, and Reggie nods, blinking. She’s very small, is his first thought, looking at her. He’s not a tall guy, he knows that (even if he does love making fun of Luke for being half an inch or so shorter than him, and even worse with Reggie’s boots), but he has to look very far down to make eye contact with the cabin lady. She can’t be more than five foot even. Maybe four foot ten? She has about five inches of braided hair piled on top of her head, which adds to her height, but beneath that, she’s very, very small. It’s distracting. He doesn’t realize that he’s just lingering beside the table until she taps on it, gesturing toward the chair across from her and the tea set between the two seats. 

“Have a seat, then,” she repeats, “and have a drink with me. Everything will be fine, Reginald. You’re welcome here.” He doesn’t normally like it when anyone besides Alex (or, before, Bobby) calls him Reginald, but in this case, he finds himself relaxing into the seat offered, grabbing the kettle to pour tea when she gestures for it. Everything is… fine. Everything is calm. The tension rolls out of his shoulders for the first time in months. 

It’s weird. It’s really weird. It’s nice. 

“Thank you for the tea. This is nice,” he says once he’s had a sip of the flowery drink, smiling easily. He’s never been a tea guy, but he’s never had this kind of tea before; he should ask what kind it is. She smiles back, and it’s a warm feeling to be smiled at by someone so much older than him, like being smiled at by Ray, or Emily in the rare times she actually remembers she likes Reggie (when she remembers that he’s a good kid and not just a bad influence, because he swears he’s a good kid), or when his grandmother would smile at him. The lady puts down her tea cup with such an air that Reggie puts down his own, feeling as if there’s something that is about to be discussed. 

“Reggie, dear, there’s something we need to talk about,” she says, and he knows he should be confused (they don’t know each other, why do they have something to talk about?), but instead, the calm remains. The feeling of the cabin, the hominess and the settled feeling, it remains. 

“Okay,” is all he says, a little dazed, and she is still smiling, so he can assume she isn’t angry with him. It’s a bit of a sad smile, now that he thinks about it, but still not angry. As long as it isn’t angry, right? 

“You’re deeply unhappy, my boy. I could feel it as soon as you knocked on the door. You are a sweet, good boy, and you do not deserve all of the unhappiness that has made a home of your heart. I would like to give you a time to free yourself of your unhappiness. Would you accept?” she asks, offering something which confuses Reggie massively, but he can’t muster up his ability to panic. He knows he has the ability to panic. Where is it? Did he leave it with Alex? Where is Alex? Where is Luke? Where is Julie? Doesn’t he have somewhere to be? How can he accept? 

“What do you mean? Accept? What about you? Do you need anything?” he asks, because he doesn’t want her to do anything, to put herself out, when he could do something for her. You don’t know her, something in himself reminds him (it sounds awfully like Bobby, but he doesn’t think in Bobby’s voice anymore, he told himself he wouldn’t-), but he pushes it down. She smiles and pats his face. 

“It is your instinct to give that makes you so able to receive without judgement. Do you accept?” she asks again. Everything feels really weird. He doesn’t think. He can’t. 

“Yes.” 

He’s stumbling out of the cabin not a second later, fuzzy and dazed, like a force not his own is pushing him out. He notices a sign below the bushes of flowers, Take one!, it says, and so he picks a flower. He’ll take it to Julie. She likes flowers. She’s always liked flowers, and he likes making her smile, so at least then this whole thing will have added up to something, because he has no idea what just happened. At least the camp knows about the cabin, according to the lady in the cabin. Is she the best source? Jesus, now that he thinks about it, she might not be the best source. 

He’ll ask Alex and Jules and Flynn. They’re better at logic than he is. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He stumbles back to the egg shaped rock and picks a direction and hopes for the best. He’s only walking for a few minutes when he hears it: Alex’s voice above the hum of the kids is the best thing he’s heard all day. It can’t be right- he knows he wandered way further away from Alex when he was on his grand adventure to find the cabin, but he doesn’t care at this point. He just wants to find his way back to a familiar face, get back in the swing of things and forget this ever happened. He knows when Lex catches sight of him, because the mix of annoyed and fond might as well be patented. 

“You could have told me you had to take a leak, Peters. Did you get lost or something? Distracted by the flowers? You’ve been gone like fifteen minutes,” Alex says, and it only takes that much to make Reggie feel like his entire world has tilted sideways. Fifteen minutes? He’d been gone hours. 

“I thought- fifteen minutes?” he asks, his voice so strained it nearly breaks. Alex snorts, rolling his eyes. 

“Thought you were quick, huh? Come on, we gotta get the kids back before Julie has them for arpeggios and scales,” the blond says, clapping him on the back and keeping his arm around Reggie’s shoulders as they herd the kids back toward the central grounds. He makes the executive decision to put everything that’s happened for the past several hours (fifteen minutes??) out of his mind, focusing instead on Alex and then Julie (she does like the flower, though she gives him a weird look, and cradles it to her chest) and then Luke and their new friend Nick when he meets up with them for guitar lessons with the kids, and he just puts it out of his mind. It’s not that important. Everything is fine, right? Everything is calm. They’re at Camp Carolling! They’re counselors at Camp Carolling, just like they always said they would be. It doesn’t matter that they’re a member short and they’re all feeling the absence, because he still has his boys and his Julie and his Flynn and his family, and they’re not leaving, even if one member did. 

Everything is fine.  

It’s the second day of their second week at Camp Carolling (they’re spending an entire month, and they’re getting paid to be there!) when Reggie feels like the bottom is dropping out of his stomach. They’re integrating with the other side of camp today, rhythm and dance (where Alex would have gone if Reggie and Luke hadn’t convinced him to skate on his mad singing skills alone), and that means… Bobby’s a rhythm guitarist. And a dancer. If they’re integrating with rhythm and dance, they’ll see Bobby, if he bothered to come. Which is a tossup, really. Ever since he quit Sunset Curve, it’s not like Reggie knows him at all, so what does he know about what Bobby Wilson is going to do with his summer, with his life, what does he know about Bobby Wilson at all? 

“Reckon we’ll see him today, boys?” Luke asks, arms over Reggie and Alex’s shoulders as he pulls them both in beside him. Julie looks at them apprehensively, chewing on the side of her lip and looking like she might indulge in her own nervous habit of chewing on her knuckles. She’s not supposed to, because it’s the thing that she’s not supposed to do as long as Reggie doesn’t chew on his nails, but he won’t begrudge her either way. 

“Why does it matter if you see him, guys? We have a new band, and besides, it’s not like you guys have even talked about him since he left! Just… ignore him if you see him, okay? It doesn’t have to be a big deal. He left you guys. If you don’t want to talk to him, you don’t have to,” she says, talking in bursts like she does when she’s upset, and Reggie doesn’t want Julie to be upset about this. He knows that she worries about the fact that they were in a band before her, that she worries about them missing Sunset Curve, but she’s family. Ray and Julie and Carlos are family. He loves them. He stands up and puts his arms around her, pulling her so close he nearly pulls her off the ground, pulls her so close she squeaks. 

“Love you, Julie,” he says simply, and then he lets her go. A simple reassurance for a simple reassurance. You don’t have to talk to him for you don’t have to replace him. As much as he’s loved Bobby Wilson since he was thirteen years old, he loves Julie Molina too. She’s like a sister. 

“Love you too, Reg. I just… don’t want you to feel obligated to him, okay? You’re not,” she reiterates. He kisses the top of her head. 

“I know,” he lies, because he is. In a way, he thinks he always will be. They separate anyway, all of them going their own ways for their camp jobs, because they can’t always stay together. He has to work with other people sometimes, despite the fact that his comfort zone will always be with the people he arrived at camp with. Ray dropped them all off together, called him mijo and kissed his forehead and everything. Sap. He piddles around and does his job and high-fives Nick when he sees him and stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees Bobby Wilson in the flesh, because what else is he supposed to do? What else can he do? Bobby has a guitar slung across him and no smile in sight, even though he used to smile every time he saw Reggie, and Reggie has no idea what to do with that. He has no idea how to fix what Bobby Wilson broke in him. 

"Hey Reg," the other boy says, slightly hesitant, and Reggie's lips remain pursed for a moment before he gives a nod of acknowledgement. No obligation. No fighting. Just acknowledgement. Nothing personal. 

"Bobby," he replies, and Bobby blinks. He knows why; he can't remember the last time he actually called the traitor by his name either. It's always been Bee or Bobbers or Bobbin or some other nickname dripping in affection. Not anymore. He watches as Bobby's expression shutters back to a close. He tries not to let it break his heart. 

"Right. I'll- um. I'll be anywhere else, I think," Bobby says, a stutter taking him over in a way that it hasn't since some of their first gigs (turns out, huddle style interviews with a dozen small-time fans are as good as speech therapy, better if the years of it not working were anything to go by), and something in Reggie wants to reach out, wants to comfort him, but he lets the anger, the bitterness, burn over it. He lets Bobby walk away from him all over again. No obligation. Nothing personal. Nothing, nothing, nothing. He watches Bobby’s back, looks at his suspenders because there’s no uniforms for counselors here, and he almost wishes there was because looking at them makes him think about popping them against Bobby’s skin like he used to, grinning and laughing, and he almost wants to cry. 

No obligations. Nothing personal. 

The day is mostly inconsequential after that. Alex met a dancer named Willie who really swept him off his feet- literally, to hear the tale, and Reggie does hear it. He meets Willie too, though briefly, at dinner, and hears about Willie’s friends. He’s friends with Nick, which is cool. He’s also friends with Bobby and Carrie, which is less cool. The rest of Carrie’s band also apparently followed the Wilsons to camp, which is just great. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t bother telling the boys and Julie about seeing Bobby again, because it doesn’t really matter. It’s inconsequential. It was barely a moment. 

The next morning, it’s announced that they’re integrating with the other side of camp. Rhythm and dance. Again. He turns to Luke, a question on his lips, when Luke throws an arm around his shoulders, and Alex’s too. 

“Reckon we’ll see him today, boys?” Luke asks, pulling them in just as he had the day before, and- it wasn’t the day before, was it? It was one of those freaky dreams that Reggie’s read about. He and Bobby used to read about conspiracy theories before- well, before. He’s read a lot about déjà vu and prophetic dreams, he’s just never personally experienced either so heavily before, and he’s sure that it will go away soon, it’s just-

“Why does it matter if you see him, guys? We have a new band, and besides, it’s not like you guys have even talked about him since he left! Just… ignore him if you see him, okay? It doesn’t have to be a big deal. He left you guys. If you don’t want to talk to him, you don’t have to,” Julie bursts out, and Reggie wasn’t paying enough attention to her mannerisms this time, but he gets up and hugs her anyways, squeezes her just as tight because he loves her and he knows her and he needs her just as much as she needs them. She’s the rock to his hard place, you know? That doesn’t really make sense, but it’s his vibe. He hugs her real tight, tight enough to pull her off her feet, just a little. 

“Love you, Jules,” he says, because he means it. He kisses the top of her head, because he means that too. She sinks into him, just a little, before he releases her. 

“Love you too, Reg. You don’t owe him anything,” she says, and it’s worded a little different than the dream, but it means the same thing. He kisses the top of her head again, just for good measure. She rolls her eyes and shoves him off, laughing. He likes making her laugh. It’s always nice. He doesn’t bother lying this time. 

When they all separate, he’s a little less assured that everything was a dream, because things are still the same. Nick still high-fives him, and everyone still asks him to do the same things, and everything is still the exact same. He doesn't know what to do, so he does exactly the same things that he did yesterday morning (last night in his dream?), down to letting himself trip over the front porch step on the cafeteria walkup. Alex had done a presentation on the butterfly effect once for an English class (their teacher had let them choose a movie or book to analyze against a scientific theory related to it, it was a really interesting project actually-) 

Reggie is almost ready to dismiss his strange sense of déjà vu when Bobby walks up to him again, an even more direct line than he had taken in Reggie's strangely prophetic dream. 

"I think I had a dream about seeing you again last night," is the first thing that Bobby says to him, and it's freaky enough to make Reggie feel really weird. He's never been excessively great at covering up his expressions around the boys either (and Bobby is still one of the boys, damn it, Reggie can't stop the years of safety and security that Bobby held in his own two hands), and he knows that he's showing his slight panic. 

"Was the rest of the morning exactly the same too?" he asks before he can stop himself, before he can remind himself that he and Bobby don't go together anymore, that Bobby left. Bobby grabs onto his wrist desperately, though never hard enough to hurt. Reggie wants to scrape out how much Bobby remembers about him, wants to take it all back, because no one else has known him as well as his boys (besides the Molinas, because they know him inside and out and he would put that on a billboard). He has to tune back into Bobby’s angry desperation, how it covers his fear. 

"It fucking was, Reg, what the hell is going on?" Bobby says, eyes blazing, all that fear fear fear so plain where Reggie knows only he can see. He shakes Bobby off of his arm easily. He desperately tries to ignore how hurt flashes over Bobby’s expression before he covers that one too. 

“I don’t know, dude. I don’t think anyone else knows, though. Luke and Alex didn’t seem to think anything was weird this morning, and Julie didn’t act any different either, and she’s the smartest of us,” he replies, shrugging a shoulder. He doesn’t want to tell Bobby about the creepy cabin and the definitely-not-a-witch. He doesn’t want Bobby to say the same thing everyone has always said. He doesn’t want Bobby Wilson to finally tell him that he’s being stupid. Bobby recoils slightly. 

“You guys brought- Julie came?” Bobby asks, and Reggie doesn’t have to ask how he knows who Julie is. Julie and the Phantoms, their band, has been all over social media lately. Flynn is a pretty baller social media manager, and it hasn’t been a secret that three quarters of the former Sunset Curve, a punk band, had suddenly turned poppy when they got a new lead singer. It’s been something of a sensation. And, it’s not like Julie wasn’t their friend before Julie and the Phantoms happened. It’s just that Bobby was never really close with her in the first place, and the four of them found each other in a lot of wreckage. A lot of fucking wreckage. Reggie shrugs again. 

“We told her about the promise we made as Sunset Curve, to come back to camp and be counselors ourselves, and she asked if she could come too, even if she wasn’t part of the original promise. We made a decision as the three of us. Wasn’t too sure we were going to see you here, to be honest,” he says, more honest than he means to be. He can’t look at Bobby, suddenly, and he picks at his fingers, plays with his rings, peels at the bandaid Luke had just put on him last night. Too vulnerable. Too much. Shatterglass and eggshells. He still doesn’t bite his nails. He promised Julie. He’ll keep his promises to Julie. 

“It was a promise,” Bobby says. Reggie snorts, again before he can stop himself. 

“So was everything else, Bobbin. Didn’t seem to matter then.” He pushes off the wall he’s leaning against, intending upon going back to the cabin and sleeping for the next hundred permutations of this day should there be more (he watched the Tuesday episode of Supernatural during Alex’s phase, unfortunately), but Bobby catches him by the hand. 

“I’m sorry, Reg,” he says, far too close to Reggie’s ear, nearly pressing it into Reggie’s skin. Reggie nearly breaks being so close to him. He pulls away anyway. 

“Shoulda said that a while ago, Bee. Shoulda never left,” he says, and it’s like the world resumes around them (it never stopped, everything was still happening, it’s just like the world stops when he’s caught within Bobby’s atmosphere), because he loses Bobby easily within the raucous of the camp. 

He listens when Alex tells him about Willie. He encourages him to talk to him again. He meets Willie and doesn’t make a big deal about Willie being friends with the Wilsons. He still doesn’t mention seeing Bobby. Then, after dinner, because he can, he climbs into bed with Luke, even if he’s about fifty percent sure he’ll wake up in his own bed on the same morning once again. Luke welcomes him with open arms and even more open cuddles, curls around him like the little octopus he is, sweaty and gross and exactly what Reggie needs. He tucks himself beneath Luke’s chin and falls asleep to the sound of Luke’s weird sleep humming, familiar and warm. 

He wakes up in his own bunk, just as expected. Alex has his hands on the edge of his bed, just as he has for the past two mornings (the same exact morning), and he knocks their heads together gently to wake Reggie up. Of all of the ways he could repeatedly experience being woken up, it’s one of Reggie’s favorites; it’s not one that Alex or Luke regularly indulges in, being as other people don’t think it’s normal or socially acceptable or whatever, but by the time Alex wakes him up, most everyone else has emptied out of the room; he’s actually running late, and typically, Reggie would be freaking out. Because it’s his third time living through the morning, he’s half tempted to just drag Alex back into bed with him. 

Instead, he does what he’s supposed to do. 

“Good mornin, Lexi,” he says as he has both of the other mornings, and Lex hits him with a pillow, just as expected. It’s only across his stomach, so it’s more fond than anything. That’s what Reggie tells himself, anyway. Alex pulls him out of bed then, shoving clothes at him until Reggie dresses himself and follows Alex out of the cabin in a semi-orderly manner, tying his flannel around his waist as he makes it out of the door. Julie falls into step with them as they make it up the cafeteria steps, linking her arm with Reggie’s as she has the last two renditions of this morning, but it still makes Reggie smile. Luke has already gone up ahead to meet up with Flynn, masterminding the summer rotation of Julie and the Phantoms advertising before breakfast and the announcement that they’ll be mingling with the other side of camp today. 

He already knows the morning is going to be the same. He knows it in his bones. He didn’t wake up in Luke’s bed this morning. 

“Reckon we’ll see him today, boys?” Luke asks after the announcement comes, and it confirms Reggie’s suspicions for sure. He goes through the motions of the conversation completely, not leaving anything on the floor because he’s not going to half ass a conversation with his friends just because he’s had it before. He loves them, and he’s not going to let Julie be insecure about her place with them just because of some repetitive day- what if this is the last time or something? He couldn’t do that to her. He high-fives Nick when he sees him and does his job and goes through the day. He sees Bobby and opens his mouth to speak, but Bobby beats him to it. 

“My dad asked me to leave Sunset Curve. Told me to, really.” 

That’s the first different thing he’s heard all day. And it’s enough to stop him midstep and nearly make him fall into the hi-hats they’ve got lined up against the wall of the rhythm cafe, except that Bobby catches him, because Bobby is the one who said it, because of course Bobby was. Bobby is the only one who could have said that, because Bobby’s dad is Trevor Wilson, extremely famous solo artist and general rock star, and no one else has ever left Sunset Curve successfully (Alex had tried, once, when he thought he was dragging everyone down, but they had talked him off that particularly wall), and-

“What?” Reggie asks, and the crack in his voice should be embarrassing, but he can’t dredge up the feeling. All he has is the sinking feeling of despair, because if Trevor asked Bobby to leave, then they’ve been letting him have this distance, this horrible fucking space because they thought he wanted it and- they’re supposed to be a family. 

“He said that he would sponsor Sunset Curve if I left and did a successful solo album first. If he could see our potential for himself. I’m almost done with it, so I should be able to make it on my own. Even if I don’t have Sunset Curve anymore,” Bobby says, the last bit tacked on like an afterthought, like a bitter aftershock. Reggie puts his hand on Bobby’s arm. It’s the first time he’s reached out to him in a long, long time. Bobby seems to realize this too, and when he looks at Reggie, the vulnerability in his eyes makes Reggie ache. 

“You left us, not the other way around, Bobs.” Fuck, that’s cagey. More defensive that he means. Bobby gives him a bitter smirk, opening his mouth, but Reggie squeezes where he holds Bobby’s arm still. “You didn’t explain. You didn’t say anything. You just left. You never talked to us,” he says, his voice calmer as he goes further. Bobby’s expression crumples, screwing up around his mouth. 

“You didn’t stop me, Reg! When I said I was leaving, you didn’t try to stop me. Not like we stopped Alex. Not like you would have stopped Luke. Not like we would have stopped you. A rhythm guitarist is replaceable, you know, you guys were never as attached, so don’t act like you weren’t happy I was gone,” Bobby pushes out the words like they’re insistent against his throat, and Reggie pushes himself against Bobby’s chest when they’re done, forces himself under Bobby’s chin and makes Bobby hug him. He pulls Bobby against him and hugs him none too gently, hugs him like he wanted to when Bobby left, because he was fucking devastated when Bobby left, it destroyed him when Bobby left, but he didn’t want to make Bobby stay somewhere he didn’t want to be. He pushes himself up against Bobby because that’s how they’ve always talked best, not looking each other in the eye but still close enough to feel each other’s heartbeats, and he both loves and hates how easily Bobby relaxes against him as soon as he’s close. When he speaks, he does so quietly, more gently than he’s been with Bobby in a year’s time. Only had to do today a third time to start talking like he should have been for a year. 

“I wanted you to stay. We wanted you to stay. But fuck, it hurt when shut us out, when you kicked us out. We thought we were family, Bee. Sunset Curve was our family, you were our family. We were supposed to have each other’s backs and you told us that you wanted out of our family.” 

“I didn’t want to kick you guys out. It just… it happened so fast, and you just packed up and left. I wanted you to keep using the garage, even if it was without me. But, Sunset Curve was family, and I was leaving Sunset Curve,” Bobby says, like that explains anything. Reggie wants to both pull Bobby so close that the other boy lives inside of Reggie’s own ribcage, and pull far enough away that he can punch Bobby in the face. 

“You’re an idiot, Bobby Wilson,” he says, stroking Bobby’s hair. As soon as he says it, Bobby tenses up. 

“What?” the other boy says, voice hardening again. Reggie scritches his nails along Bobby’s scalp. 

“You’re an idiot if you think we didn’t love you. We still do, even if we’ve been mad, and hurt, and whatever else for the past year without you, which has sucked, by the way. You’re our best friend, and the fact that you just left us, barely any explanation, and didn’t speak to any of us at all? Definitely aggravated some abandonment issues, yeah, but we still fucking love you. Honestly! You’re an idiot. Can’t believe you,” Reggie says, pulling Bobby even closer when it seems like Bobby might pull away or might not know what to do, because he can’t let Bobby pull away again. Not physically or emotionally or socially or ever, ever again. Bobby’s arms finally wrap fully around Reggie, delicate and unsure, and Reggie hums, satisfied. He’s missed this. Missed Bobby. 

“I knew Luke wouldn’t let me leave if it was for this. But I couldn’t waste the opportunity. My dad has a lot of connections that we might not have been able to make on our own,” Bobby says, but even the argument sounds like it has the air punched out of it. Reggie hums again, noncommittal. 

“He probably wouldn’t have let you leave without a fight, no, because anything your dad can do for us, we can do on our own talent, Bobbins. I know that you’re scared of never being able to make it, and I know that you think your dad can help us, but we’ve always agreed that we didn’t want to make it like that. Why did you think doing it like this would make things different?” he asks, making sure to keep his voice soft and the accusation out of his tone. He doesn’t want Bobby to puff up, because if Bobbers gets defensive, this conversation isn’t getting anywhere. He might as well have a conversation with a brick wall. He’s not the most intelligent former member of Sunset Curve (that honor goes to Alex, probably), but it’s better that he’s here than, say, Luke. Luke would definitely have started a fight by now. 

“I just… I wanted to help. And then you guys didn’t talk to me, and you made a new band so quickly and everything changed so fast, and the new album was all I had, Reggie, and Carrie told me that I should just work on that and say fuck it, so I just said fuck it, and maybe I shouldn’t take emotional advice from a Scorpio, but I didn’t have you guys at the time, so I just- I wasn’t- it was,” Bobby stops and starts and then stops all together, and that’s all it takes for Reggie to realize that Bobby is probably about to start crying. Reggie tucks Bobby’s face against his neck and presses his own face against Bobby’s hair, pressing a kiss into it naturally, just like he does with Julie, because the Molinas are even more affectionate than, say, Sunset Curve, and Julie and the Phantoms has become a codependent place to live too. He wants to make Bobby safe there too. There’s something he has to say first, though. 

“We didn’t reach out because we thought you didn’t want us to, Bee. When you walked away, I promise we wanted to follow you. At the very least, Alex and Luke did. It… hurt me. A lot. When you left. Sunset Curve was the only family I had before the Molinas. Alex had his sisters, and even when they fight, Luke’s parents still love him, and you have Carrie, and Trevor, in his weird way, when he wants to care. But I don’t- they don’t love me, Bobs. Not even Michael, not really. And when… when you left, they took care of me instead of thinking about you, and I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” It had taken Ray months to get him into a therapist who got him to admit that his family sucked. It’s weird to just say it now. It’s only been a month and a half since he said it in therapy. Bobby squeezes him a little too tight, but Reggie doesn’t tell him to let go. It’s kinda nice, actually. 

“I shouldn’t have left. I’m really, really sorry, Reg. I love you, and it wasn’t ever about- I’m sorry,” Bobby struggles through apologizing, and it’s obvious he’s crying now. It makes something crack in Reggie’s chest, like a ridge is forming beneath the plates of his crust, tectonics shifting as it quakes. He kisses the side of Bobby’s head, wants to kiss his face, and that’s not a new thought. He pushes it down just like he used to, lays it to rest within him and does not give it a grave marker, slides it down beneath the rest. They’ve probably been too close for too long. They’ve probably done that a lot over the years. They probably won’t stop, if they’re going to be mending their friendship. 

That’s okay, he doesn’t mind. 

“I love you too, Bobbins. Everything’s gonna be okay,” he says, and it almost feels like it actually will. He loves Bobby Wilson, and for the first time in a year, thinking so doesn’t burn in his chest. Bobby pulls away from him and gives him a smile, and there it is. That same old problem. 

His love for Bobby is like a car in that starting it seems impossible if you don’t know how; it’s sat dormant for months without an experienced driver. Luke and Alex have walked around it for the past year, tapped on the glass of its windows, have had no idea how to even open the doors without a key in hand. It’s just a hunk of metal really, but if you have the key (Bobby’s smile in the ignition, just ready to sink his teeth in), it’s the easiest thing in the world, just a turning of metal within another piece of metal, just a spark, and everything comes alive, all of the noise and heat, and there he is, there’s all the love in him, everything alive in Reggie, and it’s there and ready to go and rolling down the hill, 40 miles an hour, 50, 60, as fast as anyone will let him before they hit the breaks. All of the fear of being hurt takes the backseat as Bobby slides into the driver’s seat, Reggie taking passenger because he’s never been in control of this. It’s okay, though. Bobby’s never been a reckless driver. He’ll be careful enough. Reggie has always been so ready to hand himself away to this boy. 

Same problem, same solution. Reggie shoves his love into himself and gives Bobby a smile of his own, offering him his hand as they exit. Bobby’s smile slides into a grin, but he shakes his head. 

“Unfortunately, we’ve both got work to do, Reg. I’ll see you later? Tomorrow maybe?” he asks, and they both know that tomorrow might not come. Reggie nods anyway, entrapped by that fucking grin, the sharp canine that overlaps over one of his other teeth, every little thing that Reggie has ever observed about Bobby coming back into sharp focus. And, god, he loves him. Jesus. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bee. Love you,” he says, and he walks away from Bobby feeling ten pounds lighter. It almost scares him when Bobby catches him by the hand halfway out of the door of the rhythm cafe, spinning him around and pulling him a little closer than they’ve ever gotten so quickly, and Reggie knows he’s blushing before he even sets himself to rights. 

“Sorry, just. Love you too,” Bobby says it like he’s following an impulse and then he kisses Reggie on the cheek (he’s never kissed Reggie on the face before, always kept it to his hair or his shoulder or his hands or-) and disappears out the door. Reggie blinks, standing stock still for a moment as the feeling rolls over him before he follows Bobby out of the door, the other boy already lost in the din of the camp. He goes about the rest of his day with a little more pep in his step, catching things before they fall and all of the things he maybe shouldn’t do for the butterfly effect of it all, but he just can’t help it. Everything looks a little brighter on the other side of the tunnel. He sees Bobby across the campground a couple of times, but never really close enough to engage, just enough to fluster himself. He needs to talk to the boys and Julie and Flynn. 

The soonest time he gets to see all of them is dinner that night, when Alex tells them all about Willie. Reggie doesn’t interrupt, and he gives the same advice he’s given the last two times (“You should totally talk to him again! In fact, where is he? Hey! Are you Willie? You should come eat with us!”), but afterwards, he tells everyone that he talked to Bobby. And the table goes strangely, eerily silent. 

“What do you mean you talked to Bobby, Reg? I thought we were gonna be cool about it,” Luke says, looking at Reggie mostly but looking at Julie a little bit, probably because he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. Reggie doesn’t want to hurt her feelings either (and he won’t, not even for Bobby, but Bobby is important too), but he’s not going to keep this a secret from her either. 

“I am being cool about this! Bobbert apparently got convinced by his dad to make a solo album so that his dad would sponsor Sunset Curve, and Bobby didn’t think that he could tell us because you wouldn’t let him leave, but he didn’t want to squander the opportunity or whatever, but then he was really Bobby about it and got in his feelings, but we were also in our feelings, so overall Sunset Curve era communication skills were really, really shit and honestly we all owe our lives to Flynn and Julie, but furthermore, it’s my vote that we engage Robert T Wilson in a prank war, as he has wronged the former members of Sunset Curve, but he is still a former member of Sunset Curve himself, and dude, he cried on me earlier,” he ends out strong, because he knows nothing is more convincing that Bobby fucking Wilson expressing an emotion. He doesn’t realize he’s speaking more to the table than he is to his friends until he’s done speaking, but when he looks up, Luke and Alex are both just looking at him, Luke’s eyes wide and six shades of puppy dog, his smile just starting to curve upward, and Alex giving that shy smile like he’s just seeing Reggie. 

“Are you sure, man?” Alex asks, and Reggie knows why. He knows that half the reason that Alex and Luke held such a huge grudge against Bobby was for hurting him, and he knows that despite all of their implications and joking, everyone knows that he is the delicate one, not Alex. He bites his lip and looks at Julie, who gives him a smile, one that doesn’t even look hurt. Flynn is smiling too, so Julie must really not be hurting; Flynn is never good at covering up when Julie isn’t alright. She gets too mad. 

“I’m sure. So, what do you think we should do?” he asks, and that sets them off. Flynn has a lot of opinions for someone who has never participated in a Sunset Curve prank war, but she argues that it’s not a Sunset Curve prank war, being as all four members of Julie and the Phantoms (and their social media manager) plan to participate, and Reggie can’t help his smile when they say that. He likes the idea of having Flynn and Julie in on this too, can’t stand the idea of having a separation between the lot of them again, and it makes him smile even wider when Willie throws in an opinion too; Bobby has apparently talked about them some, and this might help. This might help. Thank God. 

“We are not going to just pie the guy, that’s so lame,” Flynn says, and that breaks Reggie out of his head. He puts his hand on their shoulder. He knows they’re right, that it’s the kind of shitty prank a bunch of thirteen year olds would produce, but well-

“We should definitely pie him. That was how we used to start our prank wars because when we were kids- or, well, it was just a few years ago, when we had first met, we were thirteen, and Bobby smacked me in the face with a banana cream pie in the doorway right over there,” he points to the cafeteria doorway where Bobby had ambushed him, the fond memory washing over him. It had been a dare from one of the other boys at camp, and Bobby had regretted it immediately when he thought Reggie was going to cry (he wasn’t that sensitive, he just had whipped cream in his eye!), but when Bobby decided to hang out with him instead of going back to hang with the other boys, Reggie wasn’t even mad about the pie. He just started pranking Bobby back, and brought Luke and Alex into it too, and that’s how they got started. Hearing this, Flynn nods. 

“Okay. Do you still know where the camp keeps their pies?” they ask, and Reggie breaks into a grin, nodding back. 

It would probably look suspicious if they all got up from the table, so Flynn makes Luke, Alex and Willie stay. Reggie winks at Alex when Willie isn’t looking, making the other boy blush a pretty pink to match his signature hoodie. It’s always charming to leave your best friend with your other best friend, who happens to be his ex-boyfriend, and his pretty obvious new crush. Reggie leaves with Flynn and Julie, glad that he’s not make small talk with that crazy crew (not that he’s ever made small talk with Luke and Alex; they would probably just end up one upping each other with who could tell Willie the most embarrassing story about Bobby the fastest, seeing as he’s had a year’s time to tell Willie stories about them, should he so please). He links his arm with Julie as he usually does, who links her other arm with Flynn, even if they make a conspicuous picture together. Flynn has told him that one of the best ways to be inconspicuous is to be conspicuous in other ways all together. 

He’s not sure if they’re right, but he’ll take it. 

“Okay, so they’re back there in the fridge, sweets are on the right hand side, pies are usually in the bottom. I can absolutely guarantee about thirty seconds,” he says, and then he lets go of Julie, pushing Julie and Flynn into the kitchen as he catches sight of-

“Hey Marge!” he says brightly, injecting excitement into his voice and making sure not to look in the direction of the door he just pushed his friends into. If he gives them up, they’re all fucked. Luckily, Marge just looks as excited to see him as she always does, just as excited to see him as she’s looked since he was tiny and thirteen and adults liked him so, so much more than kids ever had. 

“Reggie, my love, where have you been? You haven’t come to see me at all this week. I almost didn’t think you were coming back,” she says, and then they’re off. He talks about the band for as much time as he can; Marge doesn’t really understand the social media kickoff they’ve been able to get, but she likes how excited he gets, so that’s nice. He asks her about her kids, her grandkids, even the nieces that used to come around to camp just to visit every couple of weeks that he can just barely remember the names of- he’s good like that. He’s not sure how long they’ve been talking when Julie comes up and grabs his shoulder, sliding him a smile before turning her charm on Marge. 

“Hi! I’m Reggie’s friend, Julie. Is there any chance I could steal him from you?” she asks, all smiles and barely there pretty girl laughter, and Marge just smiles back at her, giving her a nod. 

“Reggie has been telling me all about your band, so I could hardly keep him from one of you three. It’s wonderful to meet one of you. Come back and see me, my boy,” she says, and she kisses Reggie on the cheek, and then she goes back to the kitchen. It makes Reggie feel warm, and he wishes he hadn’t come to see her just to steal a pie; it makes him feel dirty. That only lasts for a minute as Julie pulls on his arm, giggles bursting out of her chest as Flynn rejoins them, slipping out with a pie in hand, cling wrap still holding it together. A smile takes over his face as well as he puts his arm around Flynn’s shoulders, snagging the pie with his other hand. This is his prank. He’s gonna do it. 

That’s what he thinks, at least, until Alex steals the pie from his hands, putting on the table in front of himself. 

“I wanna do it. And I want you to be standing behind me, and I want Luke to be there too, for maximum drama potential. Listen, we’ve been plotting it out, work with me here,” Alex says, both hands on the table in front of the pie. Reggie considers it briefly, but decides, well, all three of them should be involved, and then both Flynn and Julie could be there for it too. And Willie could do the lead in. At the suggestion, Willie grins. 

“I’m in,” they say, bumping his wrist with Reggie’s own. Then, they just set the plan in motion. The lot of them actually have to eat their dinner at this point, seeing as they’ve been talking and plotting and planning when they were supposed to be eating, so they rush through their meal and get up in shifts; he and Luke and Julie get up and go sit on the cafeteria porch first, sitting on the railing to shoot the shit and talk, killing time while the rest of the plan goes accordingly. Willie moves to sit with Bobby about halfway through the meal, unlacing his fingers from Alex’s hesitantly, though the rest of them pretend not to notice. Flynn and Alex move to linger by the door, surreptitiously disguising the pie in Alex’s jacket as they stand to talk behind the shadow of the alcove. 

It’s all coming to a head when they can all hear Bobby’s voice. 

“Wills, I don’t see the point in getting back into conspiracy theories, dude. They just don’t interest me that much any-” Bobby is cut off as he steps out of the doorway of the cafeteria, pie hitting him directly in the face as he sputters. He’s looking around wildly and his eyes catch on Alex first, then Flynn, then Luke, before finally landing on Reggie, who gives a loose fingered wave and a smile. He watches the way that it settles over Bobby exactly what this means (because after the first pie, they’ve never used pies on anyone but friends, they’ve always been a good natured prank, a sweet prank), and he watches as the anger and fear twists to wonder and Bobby looks more open than Reggie has ever seen Bobby Wilson ever look in public, and he looks so open Reggie could cry. The wonder gives Bobby his smile back and, covered in whipped cream and newfound joy, he waves back. 

By some unfair deity and miracle, he’s never looked more beautiful. 

“I’ll get you back for this, you know,” Bobby says, his head tilted up like he’s speaking to Alex, but he still hasn’t taken his eyes off of Reggie. Alex snorts. 

“Sure, Bobbers. Just like we’ll get you back for leavin’ us for a year just because your dad told you to. Shut up,” Alex says, and the tension that’s settled over the group leaves as soon as Alex wraps his arms around Bobby, uncaring of the pie that gets on his jacket, dissipating even more as Luke joins in, dragging Julie, who is laughing, in with him, and Reggie comes too, because this is all he’s not let himself want for the past year, and he snags Flynn and Willie just because he can, making their group hug a seven person event that includes five of his closest friends, himself, and one person he’s just met. Which is awesome. He can’t imagine what it’s like to be Willie right now, hearing about them vaguely for a year and then being dragged into this, but you win some, you lose some, right? 

“I am gonna get you back, you know? I wanna make that clear. And Willie, even if you think Alex is cute, you’re on my team,” Bobby says after a minute of allowing affection on his person, and Reggie can’t help his helpless laughter as the group breaks apart as Alex and Willie separate, unable to look at each other directly. 

“Can’t let us have one moment, can you, Wilson?” he asks as he comes face to face with Bobby again, his eyes sliding over Bobby’s face with a near obsession. He holds himself back from reaching for Bobby, though his fingers twitch to touch him again. Bobby grins at him, biting his lip in a way that makes Reggie stare without really realizing it. There’s still whipped cream on Bobby’s forehead. He should not be charmed by this. 

“We’ve already had our moment today, wouldn’t you say, Peters?” the other boy says, which sounds much more suggestive than crying in front of each other, but alright. He and Bobby had always had a somewhat flirtatious friendship, but this is… something else. Even when he wanted to… even when he and Bobby were… Jesus. 

“There’s an energy here. I’d say there’s an energy here, right?” Flynn stage-whispers to Alex (who still won’t look at Willie through anything but the corner of his eye) and Julie (who is enjoying all of the energies here and is leaning against Luke, who doesn’t seem to mind at all, blushing himself), who nod conspiratorially. Reggie hates that he can feel himself flush immediately. Bobby just slings an arm over Reggie’s shoulders, kissing Reggie’s temple and making Reggie wonder quietly at how comfortable they’ve already become again. 

“You hear that, babe? We’ve got energy,” Bobby says, almost directly in Reggie’s ear. Reggie hides his face against Bobby’s collar, but that only serves to put him closer to Bobby’s person, which only flusters him more, which is sincerely a vicious cycle, he must say. Carrie and her friends choose that moment to exit the cafeteria, which they’re still kinda semi-blocking the door of, which means that she sees, well, everything that’s going on right now. Reggie goes to pull away from Bobby, seeing as this is Bobby’s little sister (only a year and a month of difference, and adoptive, but, well), but Bobby holds onto his waist. Carrie looks Bobby up and down and then gives Reggie an even quicker once over, barely lingering over him before going back to her brother. 

“So you’re back in with these losers? No more crying into pints of dairy free ice cream?” she says, her tone cutting and a little cold, but Reggie knows Carrie better than that. He’s known her since she was twelve, he’s seen her cry over a Little’s Pet Shop purse being out of stock, and he helped Bobby figure out pre-ordering when they were fourteen so that they could make sure that it never happened again. Bobby just gives her a smile. 

“We talked it out, Care. However, you are on my team for the prank war, so I will be needing your mind,” he adds, giving her a smile that Reggie finds charming but he imagines Carrie probably finds annoying (he’d probably find something like it annoying on Michael, as is the condition of older brothers, so), and Carrie sticks her tongue out. 

“Fine. But if I’m participating, I plan to win. Detach yourself from loverboy and let’s go,” she says, pursing her lips. If Reggie could stop blushing, that would be beautiful. Luke, however, has other ideas, and catches Bobby by the shoulder before he can make it down the steps. He drags him over to the side of the cafeteria like that’ll dull the sound any, and like it’s not then easy for all of them to hear every single word that comes out of Luke’s mouth. 

“If you ever hurt Reg again, I’ll break both your ankles and your guitar, dude. I love you and you’re one of my best friends, we are family, but you weren’t here for the past year. You didn’t see what happened to him. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but dude, take care of yourself and take care of him,” he says, and then there’s a moment of silence, and then Bobby is shoved back into view. He looks a little shaken up, and he takes Reggie’s hand as soon as he sees him, looking at Carrie for a moment, and she nods. Reggie looks at Flynn and Julie, suddenly unsure of himself, and they both nudge him along as well, and so he lets Bobby take him down the path to the rhythm cafe, which seems to be becoming a thing for them. It’s private, which is something. 

“This evening has gone very differently from the previous two,” he says in an effort to break the tension, maybe to distract Bobby from what Luke said, maybe because he doesn’t want to talk about it. Bobby squeezes his hand. 

“Reg, buddy. Babe. Come on. What did he mean?” Bobby asks, and Reggie wants to linger on word choice here, he really does, but Bobby’s looking at him like he doesn’t really have a chance to linger here. Reggie takes a deep breath. 

“Shit, I- things hit me hard, when you left. I closed off. Luke and Alex didn’t know what to do. Things were getting even harder at home, and Julie was letting me stay over more, and so we were hanging out more, and that’s when the music started happening, but it was hard, you know? I needed you, I guess. You needed us too, I know that now. But I didn’t then. I just knew that I needed you and you weren’t there and I didn’t think you wanted to be there either, and… I missed you a lot,” he explains, poorly, and he can’t look at Bobby when he talks, but he doesn’t feel confident enough to pull Bobby close now. He’s wiped the whipped cream off off his forehead by now, onto his hands and then his jeans, and Reggie wonders what it would be like if he could look at Bobby and not wonder what it would be like to kiss him. It’s harder to press down the thought now. 

“I’m sorry I left, Reg. I love you so, so much,” Bobby says, his nose resting gently against Reggie’s own, and Reggie doesn’t know when Bobby moved so close. He doesn’t know when his other hand grabbed onto Bobby’s shirt, he doesn’t know when Bobby’s breath ghosting over his face started feeling right, and he certainly doesn’t know when Bobby’s I love you started feeling like something different than what it felt like before. But he doesn’t know. He can’t know for sure. 

“I love you too, Bobbins. I love you too,” he replies, because of course he does, and Bobby rubs their noses together, smiling gently like Reggie isn’t getting something, and then he dips in to kiss him, slowly and gently, gently, gently, gently. Bobby’s hand is holding Reggie’s face like he’s something made of spun glass and sure things, like Reggie is made of everything important in the world, and Reggie’s hand stays fisted in Bobby’s shirt, his other hand with fingers clinging to Bobby’s own. They kiss slowly, like they have all the time in the world, like they didn’t waste a year not talking to each other, like they don’t have two diverging paths in front of them, like they don’t have a prank war to plan and two separate sides to be on, and like they’re not eighteen years old and they couldn’t be going much faster and making much rasher decisions. 

He feels like Bobby’s taking them cruising down a backroad, holding his hand over the gearshift while they watch the trees go by. He could stay in the car forever with this boy. When Bobby pulls away, he doesn’t go far, not this time, just sets his forehead against Reggie’s and breathes. 

They just breathe together, and the closeness feels like coming home. 

“I’m still gonna prank you, you know,” Bobby says, because he can’t deal with one single emotional moment. Reggie gives him a brief little peck of a kiss just because he can, and he’s delighted to see how it makes Bobby blink, even given how they’ve just kissed, and he’s only doing it again. 

“Wait, you’re cute. I always knew you were, but you’re, like, actually cute all the time, aren’t you? That’s sweet,” Reggie observed, surprised by self-proclaimed-at-fifteen ‘badass’ Bobby Wilson being cute when Reggie so much as kisses him, and he’s even more delighted when Bobby goes from pink to a red that rivals even Reggie’s own flushing tones. It takes Bobby a second to even be able to speak. 

“Reg, I swear. Take that back. I am not- you’re cute. Not me. Don’t- I- Shut up,” Bobby trips over himself, trips over his own words, flustered, and it warms Reggie’s chest so thoroughly he feels fit to burst with it. He leans in and kisses Bobby again, never so glad as now that they’re so close in height, because it’s so, so easy to just kiss this boy who’s very, very kissable in the first place. Bobby kisses him back and pulls back just to kiss him again, and again, and then on his cheek, and then his nose, and his other cheek, and his forehead, and Reggie is laughing even though he doesn’t mean to, and this might be the best day of his life. He’s so happy he feels like he could float away, adrift with the wind, but he has Bobby still holding onto his fingers and wrapped around him, and he’s so, so happy. 

“I love you,” he says again, and he’s never meant anything with more of himself. Eventually, he and Bobby have to separate and go to their own cabins, which actually means that they're going to plan their own wars, but dear God, for this moment, he’s standing too close to a boy who loves him back to think about how the night will end and the day might begin again. When they do leave each other, Bobby presses him gently against a wall and kisses him goodnight, and Reggie cups his face when he does it, just to remind him that Reggie is holding the world when he does it too. Instead of asking questions, Luke and Alex go directly into planning mode, charting the course for a few pranks and ribbing him just a little for how mussed his hair is, cracking a joke or two about sharing a bed now that he’s taken or whatever. It’s so normal that Reggie feels like he could crack right open, and when he goes to sleep in his own bed, he falls asleep easier than he has all year. 

He wakes up to a new morning the next day, a bed full of silly string, and a note from Bobby. 

I told you I would. Come find me? 

And so it begins. 

(When he remembers, he does, eventually, try to find the cabin again. He gets so far as the egg shaped rock before getting so disoriented he nearly passes out, and he decides that it simply is not worth it. He already has his miracle.)

#boggie #bobby wilson #reggie peters #julie and the phantoms #jatp #alex mercer #julie molina #luke patterson #flynn #willie #willex #juke #carrie wilson #mine #troped #i forgot to post this on tumblr

[shanoaravendare]

Camp Unus Annus: The Author (Part 1)

              The bonfire had finally settled down into a pile of glowing embers at the center of camp when Counselor Amy peered around at the circle of campers. Empty marshmallow bags and chocolate bar wrappers littered the ground, and everyone had smears of marshmallow and chocolate around their mouths. The full moon which had been casting a soothing bluish light over the camp and its inhabitants disappeared behind a thick bank of clouds driven by a sudden chill breeze leaving only the ruddy glow of the fire to light the night. Somewhere out amongst the trees she heard an owl hoot mournfully into the darkness.

              “Hey Mark, did you and Ethan remember to tell the campers why it’s so important for them to always remember their buddy?”

              Counselor Ethan leaned forward to look past Counselor Mark, “Of course we did, Amy,” he mumbled through a mouthful of s’more spraying Mark with graham cracker crumbs in the process. “We went over it on the first day of camp,” he continued, ignoring Mark’s frustrated glare when more crumbs landed on his lap, “We’re not idiots, you know.”

              Mark quickly brushed the crumbs off his white camp uniform before placing a hand on Ethan’s chest and pushing him backwards off the log they were sharing. “Seriously Amy, you were there when we filmed the whole thing about how dangerous it is to be in the wild without a buddy. You had to get in the tent because of that bear, remember?” Mark snorted and rolled his eyes as he turned to Ethan while pointing at Amy with his thumb. “Can you believe she forgot that we went over the buddy system?”

              A muffled thump sounded as Amy smacked Mark over the head with her clipboard. “No, I didn’t forget that stupid video,” she huffed, “and if you’ll remember there wasn’t actually a bear it was just Evan with a branch in his hand.” Noticing that neither Ethan nor Mark were paying attention she grabbed each of them by an ear and pulled them in close, checking on the campers over her shoulder before whispering in their faces, “I’m talking about you know who.”

              Mark took a deep centering breath and Ethan rubbed at his ear as Amy let go of them. Ethan looked at Amy and shrugged unconcernedly then stared at Mark. Mark glanced at Ethan out of the corner of his eye then pushed him backwards off the log again before turning to face Amy with a sigh. “Amy, we talked about this. No one has seen or heard anything about him for years. It’s probably fine.”

              “It’s probably fine. It’s probably fine? It’s probably fine? Really?”

              “Yeah! It’s fine! Probably.”

              “If it’s so fine, why haven’t you put your writing workshop on the schedule yet?”

              “I…”

              “If it’s so fine, why don’t you ever tell stories around the campfire?”

              “I…”

              “If it’s fine, why do you make one of the campers do the Camp Chronicle instead of doing it yourself like you said you would?”

              Mark put a finger to his lips and pointed at the campers with a tilt of his head. Amy turned to look in the direction he’d indicated and caught the concerned looks on some of the campers faces. She looked back at Mark and a mischievous grin quirked the corner of her lips.

              “Amy, don’t.”

              “Hey campers! Who wants to hear Counselor Mark tell a scary story before we hit the sack tonight?”

              As one even the sleepiest amongst the campers began to cheer excitedly at the prospect of a story from Mark. Amy stared pointedly at Mark with a grin on her face as he glared at her.

              “Thank you so much, Amy,” Mark ground out through a strained smile as he stood up.

              “You’re welcome,” Amy replied sweetly, resuming her seat on the log.

              Ethan slid over to fill the gap Mark left on the log next to Amy and leaned toward her conspiratorially. “Are you really sure this is a good idea, Amy?”

              “It’s fine,” she reassured with a wave of her hand. “Probably.”

              Mark took another deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t know that you guys really want to hear this story. They say there’s power in a story and that it grows every time someone tells it. So, I’ll leave it up to you to decide whether it’s worth the risk.” He refused to look at the campers’ faces and stared instead into the remains of the bonfire. Before continuing he picked up a big stick and poked at the dying embers, coaxing a few tired flames back to life. Instead of making the clearing brighter the fire seemed only to deepen the shadows surrounding them. Not a single camper moved as they waited for him to continue. “Well, if there are no objections,” he trailed off with a sigh. “Okay,” he stabbed at the fire to punctuate his thought and sparks flew into the air causing a few of the closer campers to jump then laugh at themselves for being frightened.

              “Did you know that a best-selling author used to live not too far from here?” He paused as the campers looked at each other before shaking their heads. “I didn’t expect you to, but I’d be willing to bet you’ve probably read one of his books. Well, a few years back a couple young men came staggering out of the woods near the cabin the author lived at and told the police this crazy story. They said that the author had been using his writing to control them and the world around them. Now one of these young men, Daniel, had told this same story to the authorities before and had been placed in a mental institution as a result but had recently escaped. His friend, Ryan, said that the author had kidnapped him and taken him to his cabin.”

              Somewhere in the woods a branch snapped loudly startling everyone around the campfire. Some of the campers fell over with a yelp then started laughing when they saw how big their neighbor’s eyes had gotten in the darkness. Mark stared out into the darkness trying to pinpoint the source of the sound, unconsciously gripping the fire poking stick tight enough to turn his knuckles white. Amy kicked a rock at his ankle, bringing him back to the moment and nodded reassuringly at him when he turned to look at her.

              “Anyway,” he continued, “the two friends told the police that Daniel had shot the author in the back to protect Ryan who he had been looming over with a baseball bat. They said that when the author was controlling them, they could hear his voice inside their heads like he was narrating their lives and that they were compelled to act accordingly.” Mark paused and looked out at the campers and the firelight reflected in their eyes. “Can you imagine it? One moment you’re living your life and then suddenly an unfamiliar voice invades your thoughts and forces you to play out a scenario beyond your control. Like a puppet with invisible strings guiding your every action and reaction? Being at the mercy of a madman who cares nothing for you, only how your suffering will enhance his work?” With every word he spoke Mark’s face grew darker and his eyes began to take on a haunted feral glow. Some of the campers began to fidget uneasily when his gaze would brush across them. “Can you imagine trying to fight against that kind of mental assault? Fearing what that voice might make you do next? Will it force you to run, fearing for your life, from unseen monsters? What if it decides to turn you into the monster? What would you do? What could you do?”

              “Mark.” Amy leaned forward and tried to get Mark’s attention by swatting at the back of his leg to no avail. “Mark.”

              Mark continued to speak as she tarted moving among the campers, pitching his naturally baritone voice even lower. “The author’s control was far from total. With effort you could go against his wishes, at least for a little while.  But he would always find a way to get what he wanted. He would find ways to make you cooperate. And the longer you could manage to resist, the worse he would make things for you in the long run.”

              Amy tried again to get Mark’s attention by calling his name. “Mark!” This time Mark spun around to face her across the fire. “It’s getting late, why don’t you finish up your story,” she prompted him.

              “Right, the story,” he muttered smoothing his hair back from his eyes as he moved back around the fire to stand in front of the log Amy and Ethan occupied. “The story… Where was I?”

              “The two friends had told the police about shooting the author,” a teal haired camper sitting close to the fire chimed in.

              “Thanks. So, the two friends told the police their story and, naturally, the police went out to the cabin to investigate. They found the room where Ryan had been tied to the chair, the baseball bat, the gun, and a shell casing. But they didn’t find any sign of the author. No blood. No body. No sign that the author had even been there recently. On his desk, they found a piece of paper with just three words written on it, “To be continued.”

#camp unus annus #campus annus #camp ua #campsona #The Author #markiplier

[just-dreaming-marvel]

ONE HUNDRED FORTY ONE - RETURNING (3)

LEGACY: A Tony Stark Daughter Story

FULL STORY MASTERLIST

ENDING THREE MASTERLIST

< previous (make sure you’ve read the previous chapter. even if you think you have, double check.)

Word Count: 1,725ish

Summary: Steve goes to return the Stones.

Over the next few days, our yard and the forest around us started to become home to the homeless Avengers. RV trailers were brought in and everyone found a place to call their temporary home. I could tell that Pepper appreciated all of it, the friends and the distraction to help. Clean up of the destroyed compound also started, with Rhodey heading it. Bruce and I got the nano bots out of my head as well as built another quantum portal with Rocket’s help. Rocket, the other Guardians, and Thor left for space soon after that. It was a hard good bye. But Nebula and Rocket gave me a device so that I could get a hold of them anytime I wanted to. 

We all supported each other, all of us understanding that none of us should be alone. Everyone was especially attentive to Morgan, making sure that all her needs were met. Bucky was the best with her, surprisingly. Always willingly playing with her and making sure that she was okay. I could tell that sometimes he was just doing it to appease her. She was definitely a Stark, pushing other peoples limits. Bucky also kept a careful eye out on me. It was all very much appreciated. 

Clint and I thought that doing a memorial for Nat would be good. We held it at his farm, with his family, Rhodey, Happy, Pepper, Morgan, Bruce, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, and Steve. It was nice and very thoughtful. I got a few weird looks because of the lack of tears, but Wanda and Pepper understood why. I had seen her, talked to her since she passed. I knew that she was okay. That she was at peace and taking care of Tony for me. 

Soon, the day finally arrived when the quantum portal was finished and Steve was ready to take the Stones as well as Mjolnir back. We built the portal a little ways away from the cabin, in the woods near Steve and Sam’s trailer. Steve, Bucky, Sam, Bruce, and I were the ones there to see him off, with only Bucky and I knowing Steve’s true intentions. Bruce and I were plugging some last things into the machine when I noticed that he was struggling. Him using the gauntlet rendered his right arm useless and scared him up to his face. I tried to help heal him, but the Hulk part wouldn’t allow it.

“Here,” I said, moving over to finishing typing for him. “I got it.”

“Thanks,” he said.

As we finished, I felt another presence close by. A familiar one, I pushed it down though as Steve walked up to us, thinking it was probably just him anyway. 

“Remember…” Bruce started. “You have to return the stones at the exact moment you got them. Or you’re gonna open up a bunch of nasty alternative realities.” 

“Don’t worry, Bruce,” Steve reassured. “Clip all the branches.”

“You know, I tried. When I had the gauntlet, the stones, I really tried to bring her back.” Bruce looked at Steve. “I miss them, man.” 

“Me, too.” Steve looked away from Bruce and focused on me. “Me too.”

I could feel the pain and conflict within him. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and made my way towards Bucky. If he was that conflicted, he wouldn’t stay back with her, but I didn’t really have hope for that. I used to think that when it came down to Steve choosing people two people, he’d always choose the side Bucky was on. But I was wrong. He’ll always choose the side Peggy’s on.

“You know,” Sam walked up besides Steve as he made his way towards Bucky, “if you want, I can come with you.” 

“You’re a good man, Sam. This one’s one me, though.” 

Steve walked up to Bucky. Bucky was still a bit angry at Steve for what he had done to me--what he was doing to me, and that he was leaving him. But he still cared for him. Steve was still his best friend, his brother. 

“Don’t do anything stupid ‘till I get back,” Steve said.

With that line, their memories flashed through my mind. 1942. The night before Bucky shipped off. 

Everything was so different then. So much simpler. 

“How can I?” Bucky responded. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.” They hugged each other.

“Gonna miss you, Buddy.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Buck.”

Steve looked at me, but I kept my gaze on the portal. I really didn’t want my emotions to get the best of me, and I knew that if I looked at him that I would lose it. I was still in love with the man. Him breaking off the engagement still hurt like hell. Steve came up to me and kissed my cheek, holding it there probably a little longer than he should have.

“Thank you, Bailey Stark,” he whispered in my ear. “For everything... I will always love you too.”

Steve then walked over to the portal and donned the quantum suit as he got onto it. My heart rate began to speed up. I reached out for Bucky’s metal hand, firmly grabbing it.

“How long is this gonna take?” Sam naively asked.

“For him? As long as he needs,” Bruce answered. “For us? Five seconds.” Steve picked up the case holding the stones and Mjolnir. “Ready, Cap?” He gave a nod, his eyes never leaving Bucky and I. “Alright. We’ll meet you back here, okay?”

“You bet,” Steve answered. 

“Going quantum. Three, two, one…” Steve disappeared and I took in a deep breath, trying to not cry. Bucky gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “And returning in, five, four, three, two, one…” When Steve didn’t reappear, Bruce began to frantically look around the equipment. 

“Where is he?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know. He blew right by his time stamp. He should be here.”

I noticed that I was still feeling the other presence from earlier. Still holding onto Bucky’s hand, a turned a bit towards the presence I was feeling. I looked at the edge of the lake to see an old man sitting on a log. I immediately knew who it was. I tugged on Bucky’s arm to get his attention. I pointed to the old man as Sam and Bruce kept yelling about bringing Steve back.

“Sam,” Bucky demanded the man’s attention, still looking at the old man on the log. 

The three of us walked over, Bucky never letting go of my hand. Bruce stayed behind, understanding that this was something just the three of us needed to do. The closer we got, the more it hit me why the presence felt so familiar. The three of us stopped a little ways behind the man.

“Go ahead,” Bucky urged Sam, with a small smile forming on his face. 

Sam walked over. Completely recognizing the old man as his dear friend, Steve Rogers.

“Cap?” Sam wondered.

“Hi, Sam,” Steve looked over to his old friend.

“So did something go wrong, or did something go right?”

“Well, after I put the stones back, I thought… Maybe… I’ll try some of that life Tony was telling me to get.” 

I remembered that conversion from years ago, right after Ultron. The memory played through my mind before I could refocus on the scene in front of me.

“How did that work for you?”

“It was beautiful.”

“I’m happy for you. Truly.”

“Thank you.”

“Only thing bumming me out is the fact I have to live in a world without Captain America.”

“Oh.. That reminds me…” Steve pulled out a round leather case and unzipped it, revealing his shield. “Try it on.” 

Sam looked over to Bucky, who nodded in approval, before trying it on. 

“How’s it feel?”

“Like it’s someone else’s.”

“It isn’t.”

Sam tried to hold back his tears. “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”

“That’s why it’s yours.” Steve and Sam shook hands. 

Those watching noticed the wedding band on his finger. 

“You wanna tell me about her?”

“No.” Steve smiled. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Images of a younger Steve, my Steve, and Peggy dancing in her living room flashed through my mind. Peggy was crying tears of joy. 

The only thing that brought me out of it was Bucky giving my hand a squeeze.

“You keep going somewhere, doll,” he whispered, keeping his eyes on Steve who was looking out towards the lake. “Mind telling me where?”

“I’m sorry… He just… he did it… He got to be with Peggy…”

Bucky looked at me. I closed my eyes, trying so hard to stop the cascading tears. Bucky pulled me into him, allowing me to break into sobs into his chest. Steve and Sam turned towards us when they heard my cries.

“Bailey…” Steve stood up. 

I shook my head against Bucky’s chest. “I can’t do it, Buck…” I whispered. “I can’t talk to him… I’m not ready.”

“That’s okay.” Bucky quietly responded before speaking up to talk to Sam and Steve. “I’m going to take her to the house.”

The men nodded, knowing that it wasn’t worth trying to stop Bucky or me. Steve sadly watched as Bucky guided me into the house and into Pepper’s waiting arms. She saw some of it and noticed the older Steve, it didn’t take her long to put together what had happened. Once I was in Pepper’s loving care, Bucky walked back to his two friends.

“I’m happy for you pal,” he stated once he reached them. “I just wish that she didn’t have to pay the price.”

“I never stopped loving her, Bucky. And I always had an eye on her.”

“How is that suppose to help? You didn’t intervene when her parents decided to sell her to HYDRA. Or when she decided to runaway and ended up getting kidnapped. Or how about when she turned herself in. What use was watching her if you didn’t do anything to help her?” Steve simply sighed and looked away. “I can forgive you for leaving me. I understand it, a bit… But I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for leaving her. I’m sorry, Steve.”

“If I didn’t know better, I would say that you’ve started to have feelings for the girl,” Sam stated, looking directly at Bucky.

“I just care for her. She’s been through too much and deserves much better. I feel that I owe her one too… She forgave me for all I did to her and her family… Plus…” He turned back towards the house to faintly see me crying in Pepper’s arms through the window. “She lost her closest family… Natasha, Stark, and you.” He pointed to Steve. “She needs someone right now. And that someone might as well be me.”

next >

#Avengers #avengers fanfiction #avengers age of ultron #Avengers infinity war #avengers endgame #fanfiction #age of ultron #infinity war #endgame #captain america civil war #civil war #Captain Marvel #avengers x oc #avengers x reader #avengers x ofc #tony stark x reader #Tony Stark fanfiction #tony stark #tony stark x oc #Tony stark x ofc #Iron Man #captain america #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x oc #Steve Rogers x ofc #bucky barnes x oc #Bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes x ofc #spiderman homecoming #pepper potts

[myluciferiscody]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever P.2

pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader

word count: 2,145

warnings: more sadness, language, spoilers

not entirely proof-read. *title inspired by Ben Platt’s song* part 1 part 3 part 4

It was a wonder to you how you managed to run so far without stumbling. You weren’t always the most athletically inclined. Especially in your current predicament, dodging tree stumps, holes, whatever happened to be lingering about. Your voice was becoming hoarse from all the screaming, coupled with the fact you were becoming dehydrated. 

This was not how you expected this to go at all.

You knew screaming for help wouldn’t do anything; you were in the middle of nowhere. After your voice gave out on you, you could hear the sound of Xavier - or that thing, calling your name. Tears streamed down your cheeks relentlessly, blurring your vision. Honestly, how could you even produce tears?

Eventually, you had to stop, leaning against a tree trunk and gasping for breath, clutching your chest as you failed to keep quiet. They couldn’t be that far behind you.

“Why are we chasing her!?” Montana yelled, still a little too far away for you to hear. Xavier and Ray both came to a stop, their stamina a bit better than normal, perks of being dead and all. “Let’s just teleport somewhere!”

“We don’t know where she is, Columbo!” Ray said, holding his side. “She can be anywhere in these damn woods, and now we can’t hear her at all!” Ray turned to Xavier, before giving him a gentle shove, “And who the fuck is she!?“ 

Montana laughed dryly, "She was his paramour,” she mocked Xavier, who turned and glared at her. His purple tank now slick with sweat. 

“No, she isn’t!” he said, rather childishly. Montana only rolled her eyes, momentarily hating you for making her run in this heat. Ray continued to look for answers.  “… okay, maybe, but I’m finding her with or without you!” Xavier said, taking off in what he hoped was your direction. Ray and Montana watched him go, Ray, feeling more concerned for you than his female companion.

You were lost, but you didn’t move an inch. You sat on a broken log, brushing your hair from your face. Bugs continued to swirl around you, landing on your skin, almost going in your mouth, you name it. You were confused, hysterical, and, more importantly, horrified at what you had seen. 

HE IS DEAD!

“This isn’t real, it’s not real,” you whispered to yourself, straining your ears for any kind of sound. “What the fuck?” you cried into your arm, doing your best to muffle your sobs. 

“Y/N?” you heard his voice behind you. You instantly froze but noticed his shadow was too far away, perhaps he wouldn’t see you.

Xavier, however, was close enough to sense you. Call it ghostly intuition, if you must. He looked off in the direction he now knew you were in and closed his eyes. 

You slowly turned your head, peeking around the trunk, and noticed he wasn’t there. You breathed out a sigh of relief. You were dehydrated, you were tired; you had to be hallucinating. Xavier, Montana, Ray, they were figments of your imagination. You needed to get back to your car and get far away from this place.

When you turned around, a scream caught in your throat. Xavier was standing over you, his ocean eyes wet with unshed tears. You weren’t intimidated, no. 

He tried to catch you before your body slumped forward. Xavier grabbed your arm and pulled you up, holding you to his toned chest. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you died from shock. You were still breathing, and as he lifted you up in his arms, his tears finally shed.

-

You woke up inside, your aching eyes adjusting to the sunlight still streaming in the windows. The room was stuffy, and you held in a dry cough as you slowly sat up. Your head was pounding, and your throat was still parched, but you were out of the direct heat.

“Hey," 

You have screamed more today than you have in your entire life. You managed to startle whoever was with you, his dark brown hair quiffed. He yelled along with you until you both realized what was happening and shut up.

"WHO ARE YOU!?” you asked for what seemed like the fiftieth time that day.

“I’m Chet, I was put here to watch you,”

You eyed him wearily, wondering if everything from before was just a dream. Perhaps you passed out while visiting Xavier, and he happened to find you and bring you to safety. Yet, how would he be able to get you in this cabin?

Chet realized you weren’t going to say much, so he improvised, “Uhm, Xavier and the others will be back-”

“No, no, nonononono,” you shot up, ignoring the dizzy feeling that washed over you. Chet stood up, holding his hands up. They warned him you would do this, specifically Xavier. “What the fuck are you guys playing at-this isn’t funny, this isn’t funny!” you repeated, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. 

“Please calm down, I don’t even know you-”

Chet was interrupted by the door swimming open. Xavier, Montana, and Ray all filed in, Xavier leading the trio. He held some dirty bottles of water in his arms and a few towels. Montana seemed uninterested, like usual, and went to sit in the corner. Ray just stood there, awkward.

You found you couldn’t keep your eyes from Xavier, who seemed to have the same dilemma. The rational part of your brain knew this couldn’t be a prank, mainly because there was not one person in the world who possessed Xavier’s beauty. 

But it didn’t explain the absolute hell you and his family have been through the past year.

“Could you guys leave?” Xavier said, not breaking eye contact with you. “Now.”

The other three slowly filed out, Chet whispering something under his breath, resulting in Ray smacking the back of his head. You momentarily glanced their way before the door shut, leaving you alone with…

“y/n,” Xavier whispered.

“Get away from me,” you said, your voice already breaking. “D-Don’t,”

“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise,” he said, slowly reaching his hand out, “You need to drink this.”

“Why?” you asked stubbornly. 

“Because if you don’t, you will die?” Xavier said as if you were stupid. His sarcasm would have made you smile before, but this… you couldn’t wrap your head around this. 

“You’re alive?” you asked, finally taking it from him. The bottles were mostly covered in dust, and as you twisted off the cap, you chugged the entire thing without a single breath. Xavier wanted to step closer to you, hug you, kiss your forehead, but he didn’t want to scare you.

“No,” he said, sitting in the chair previously occupied by Chet. You stared at him with a furrowed brow. “I’m- I… I’m dead, y/n,”

Xavier slowly rolled the other bottles in your direction, figuring it was best for your mental state. You had no idea how you were supposed to feel about this. Xavier was still dead. Yet, here he was, right in front of you.

“So you’re a ghost, then?” you asked. 

Xavier nodded before offering you the towel he brought. You slowly took it from him, using one of the bottles to wet it and dab at your face, and your eyes that still ached from all of the crying. 

“We don’t know why this happened to us,” Xavier told you. “All of us were killed that night, but… We can still be here, we feel and look human, this place really is haunted,” he said, smiling a little as he remembered what you told him the last night you spent together. 

“You’re stuck here,” you said matter of factly, it was starting to make sense to you. In a fucked-up way. 

“I tried to leave, but I can’t get past the gate,” he whispered. Xavier promised himself to keep his tears at bay for your sake, but it wasn’t working. “I wanted to come home to you, to my parents, but every time I tried, I’d just appear right back here. They never repaired the phone lines, but even if they did, I couldn’t do that to you.”

You listened to him speak, realizing for the first time you had actually started to forget the sound of his voice. Now it was like you heard it for the first time. You set down the towel and opened the last bottle, taking a dainty sip. Xavier continued to watch your every move. 

“Did you suffer?” you found yourself asking, tears still lingering behind your lids. “T-they said when they found you, your face-” you couldn’t finish after you saw the pain flicker in his eyes.

Xavier’s lips trembled as he observed you. “It hurt like hell, what happened to my face, but when she stabbed me,” he shook his head, “I didn’t suffer before I died, y/n. I barely felt it, my brain blocked it out,”

You had no idea if he was lying to protect your feelings, but you nodded. You knew him, he was very upfront about his thoughts and feelings. When he was alive.

The two of you sat in silence, Xavier adjusting himself to sit more comfortably. His eyes refused to leave you, though. Just like you, he was worried you’d disappear. Xavier may have had the others here for companions, but they would never compare to you. 

As much as you wanted to believe, you knew things still wouldn’t be the same. Xavier couldn’t leave, and this place was inhabitable for humans. There was no power, no protection, nothing. You wished to stay here with him, to leave Los Angeles, but it wasn’t possible.

You found yourself standing up, making your way over to him. His blue eyes watched you curiously, and as you got closer, you realized it was him. 

“y/n?" 

"Shh,” you whispered, slowly bringing your hands to his face. His skin was lukewarm, not cold like you expected. Xavier’s eyes slowly fluttered shut, leaning into your touch. You had never seen his body after the fact, not even photos. You couldn’t imagine it now, not after touching him again. 

“I can’t stop crying,” you admitted to him, more tears finally streaming down your cheeks and onto your chest. Xavier laughed a little, reaching up to wipe at his own eyes. 

“Me too, it’s okay, y/n.” he nodded at you, reaching up to grasp your wrists. His hands fit perfectly, and that’s when he stood up, him towering over you just a little bit. This was so surreal, looking at him, touching him, smelling him, even. Xavier still felt like Xavier.

“I never got to tell you I loved you,” you sniffed. It was true; you never confessed your true feelings, and you never even told Xavier in that platonic way you guys always did before. He was gone before you woke up that day.

Xavier didn’t understand right away, and that was okay. He wiped your tears with his thumb, “I love you too, y/n,”

You shook your head, opening your mouth to speak before Montana burst through the door, causing you to jump and bump into Xavier. He wrapped his arms around you, glaring at the blonde over your head.

“We have guests, Xavier,” she smiled wickedly, and you burrowed your head in his chest, inhaling him. 

“Now isn’t the time, Montana,” he glared at her, but she continued to stand there, her hands on her hips. You refused to look at her, or anywhere for that matter. This was what you had been craving for the last three-hundred and sixty-five days. 

“Oh, come on, Plympton! It’s our death day, we’re supposed to be having fun!” Montana attempted to reason with him, and it seemed to have worked. For a moment, at least. 

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he told her, and she seemed satisfied as she closed the door, leaving them alone. You breathed a sigh of relief; she still put you on edge, considering she tried to murder you once before.

“Is that the Montana?” you asked.

“Unfortunately,” he said, his tone light-hearted for the first time today. You nodded, still refusing to let him go. Xavier allowed it, squeezing you tighter. Your hair was damp with sweat, but he didn’t care, pressing kisses to your hair and finally feeling at peace.

“I don’t want to leave you,” you said, looking up at him.  

“You don’t belong here, y/n. You have to go home, live your life, this isn’t a life for you,”

Despite your assurances from earlier, you were still upset. You just got him back, you were finally able to touch him, to hear Xavier’s voice. He can’t expect you to just pack up and leave, you needed to be by his side.

You needed Xavier Plympton, and you were going to have him. 

taglist: @thexmancometh​ @the-walking-daryl​ @trichy-knitts​ @shydragonrider​ ​ @thefandomzoneisdangerous​  @lemonwhiskers​

*if I missed anyone, please let me know! if you want to be added to my taglist, you know the drill. only a few more parts before it’s finished! :)*

#cody fern #xavier plympton #ahs 1984 #michael langdon #jim mason #duncan shepherd #jim mason x reader #duncan shepherd x reader #xavier plympton x reader #michael langdon x reader

[bike42]

April 13-15, 2021 IAT Heading South

The funny thing about Spring in Wisconsin is it can be variable. After two weeks of amazing warm weather, we’re back up North in the cold. It’s actually “normal,” weather for April, but after what we’ve had recently, it’s kind of hard to go back. Actually, it was perfect weather for hiking, we just had to keep moving.

This time, we’re staying in the Holiday Inn Express in Antigo, WI (population 7780). I had a Waunakee Chamber Board meeting via Zoom early Tuesday morning, so Jeff and I drove up late Monday night so I’d be able to take that call before joining the gang.  The hotel experience is different than when we’re together in a cabin, but we can’t always have everything perfectly aligned.

Kent had shoulder replacement surgery about two weeks ago, so this hotel option worked out well for Kent and Lynn too.  He can’t hike “off road” for a bit (risk of falling), so he’ll hang out while Lynn hikes with us.  I will say it felt odd not having him along on the hike.  They arrived at the hotel early Tuesday morning, and Lynn rode with us to rendezvous at the start with Dan, Tam and Gary who had already left a car where we’d finish our Tuesday hike.

There were a few snow flurries in the air as we set off hiking just after 10am.  We all dressed in layers, but the 34 degrees with a high of 40 caught me a bit off guard and I had to get creative and layer in some clothes that I’d brought for hanging out in the evening!

Everyone started out in gaiters, which was good as it wasn’t long until we were detouring around or splashing through puddles.  In fact, as we were traversing around 4H Camp Susan, the road was completely submerged so we hacked our way into the woods, up a hill, and bushwhacked back down to the trail.

A little more than three miles, and we were crossing Hwy 45 – which marked the end of the Highland Lakes Segment and the start of the Summit Moraine Segment.

We came upon the Jack Lake ski trails area, and a nice little warming shelter with a porta-potty.  It had a stove and wood – we could have had a fire if we’d needed to warm up.  We were glad to have a picnic table and took an extended break there.  The terrain was like other cross-country ski areas we’d hiked before – nice wide-open trails, but hilly!

After a few easy miles, we came to a fancier warming shelter called the Spychalla Lodge.  We didn’t need another break, but we took one anyway.

From there, we continued on to Veteran’s Memorial Park. My folks had checked this out already, so I knew to expect cute little cabins and a nice campsite – I thought we were just a few weeks too early for camping, however – plus we needed Wi-Fi for a few conference calls.  Just outside the campground, we entered the Langlade County Arboretum, where all the trees were labeled – we found it to be quite educational.  The trail wound around several beautiful lakes:  Game, High, Low and Jack Lakes – said to be named by card-playing loggers that had previously inhabited this area.

Our guide book warned us of possible issues with floating bogs and beaver dams, but we had no issues.  We arrived at our end point for the day about 3PM – could have gone further, but Jeff and I had a Zoom call to be on at 6:30PM that evening so we’d planned for just over 11 miles today.

It was a windy day, but we were mostly protected in the trees – the sound of the wind in the high pines was awesome.  While it never got warm (although Gary was hiking in a t-shirt), it was a pleasant day.  The woodland flowers were just beginning to bloom, but they were advanced enough to use my “Picture This” app to help identify them.  The forest and lakes were alive with the sounds of birds including sandhill cranes, geese, several kinds of ducks and I really loved the sounds of the Ruffed Grouse as they were “drumming,” to attract females or ward off challenging males.

Back to the hotel, and we walked over to the Bowling Alley across the parking lot – always a fun experience and the place was hopping, and the food was ok.

Wednesday morning, we awoke to snow on the cars, and the temperature was 33 degrees as we set out.  I was the navigator, but wasn’t paying attention as Gary, Lynn and I were in a deep conversation about Waunakee’s Community Study on race ... so we missed a turn and saw a bit more of Langlade County!

We did the car drop, and at the start, there was a moss-covered stump that I’d photographed Tuesday afternoon – what a contrast to now find it snow covered!!

We set out at a brisk pace, and quickly finished the last 3.5 miles of the Summit Moraine segment.  The terrain was mostly wide, grassy rolling roads, but then it turned and climbed along a ridge.  Someone had built steps out of large rocks – the first time I can recall seeing that. I imagine it was a lot of work to build that, but made the climb easier. We skirted several beautiful lakes, and saw a beautiful DCA site.

The trail paralleled Highway A for a stretch, where we got a few honks from cars going past.  We crossed the highway and began the Lumbercamp Segment.  The trail went through the Peters March State Wildlife Area, and I expected it to be wet, but aside from an occasional large puddle in the low spot on the trail, it wasn’t bad.  No one got wet feet today!

We walked along lumber roads, mostly grass covered thankfully. We only came upon a short stretch where there was active logging with equipment present but no one working today.  The roads there were muddier, but nothing like the mud soup that we’d experienced several weeks ago on the Highland Lakes Segment!  

I slowed my pace a bit and immersed in the peace of the surrounds – enjoying seeing the new growth of the trees and flowers, and listening to the cacophony of the birds.

After six miles, we searched out a place to stop for lunch. We’d been spoiled yesterday coming upon several shelters and areas with picnic tables!  We finally spotted a downed tree, and Jeff got out his saw and lopped off a few branches to make room for the seven of us.  It made us all think about the lunch we had sitting on a log atop a mountain in Slovenia a few years ago!

We continued trekking, on the lookout for the “Hillbilly Hilton” that we’d read about in our guidebook.  Its all that remains from the Norem Lumber Camp which operated from 1920 to 1938.  The camp originally had several log structures, but the only remnant is the root cellar, which has been renovated (?) into a respite for hikers.  There were several sleeping platforms, a table and shelves with various things that had left behind.  Unfortunately, there was a lot of trash both inside and outside.  In the event of severe weather, it’d be a good place to take shelter, but I’d have been more comfortable in a tent versus sleeping inside there!!

We had another snack, and the guys kicked into turbo mode, with Gary issuing a self-challenge to finish the hike by 3pm.  Tam, Lynn and I hiked a more moderate pace, stopping to check out the ramps (wild onion, or wild leek) – the forest was full of them, and I’d never seen them growing in Wisconsin before.  Made us wish we were cooking dinner tonight!  

The trail left the primitive road and headed up of high-relief hummocky topography.  Once again, we found ourselves stumbling over roots and rocks, which actually was a welcomed change from the monotony of the forest roads.  We came upon the beautiful Baker Lake, with a steep boat launch and a wooden slide to launch a canoe or kayak – would be a great secluded place to paddle!

From there, we climbed up a steep hill to Hwy-52 and the endpoint of our segment (and the guys patiently waiting).

We hiked over 16 miles today, in just under 7 hours. Great pace, but not too challenging. Feels great to be able to put in these longer distances.  Gary commented that we had “rain, snow, sun, and wind; everything but locusts!”  All in all, a great day.

We picked up the car at the start and got back to the hotel about 4:30pm, where Kent was waiting for us.  He walked around Antigo, but reported it was much colder and windier than what we’d experienced in the protection of the forest.  Since we had a Zoom call scheduled with Donovan of Embark Explorations (our Kilimanjaro guide company) at 7pm, we decided to head out to dinner right away.  Tam found the Fifth Avenue Restaurant in downtown Antigo that had a good-looking menu and great reviews, so we headed there.  Like most placed up north, they’re a bit casual with COVID restrictions and masks seemed to be optional and they had no problem with our group of 7 people sitting at one table.

We had a great dinner, lots of food, my favorite Leinenkugel Creamy Dark beer, and Jeff and I got pie to go from the Dixie Diner next door (same ownership – same family operating both places for 75 years).  

After dinner, we went back to our “suite” at the Holiday Inn Express and huddled around Jeff’s laptop for our call with Donovan (and George Sanchez, our BrightStar colleague from Austin TX who will be joining us in Africa).  Donovan and his wife have a pact to live somewhere else in the world every five years. They’d lived in Tanzania at the base of Kilimanjaro, and are now living in Guatemala so he was logged in from there. The call went well, but a storm was approaching there – we could see the lighting in his background window, and as he predicted, he lost power towards the end of the call.  We learned enough to get super excited for our September trek! I’m so thankful that Gary suggested this IAT adventure to help get us so comfortable with multi-day trekking and test out our cold weather gear in preparation for all the weather we’ll encounter on our 9 days on the mountain in Tanzania.

Thursday, we woke to clearer skies, but still cool – the sunshine makes all the difference, mentally as much as physically.  An easy car drop, we found ourselves at the start of Kettlebowl and hiking down into the bowl by 7:50AM.

The road opened up at the base of the Kettlebowl Ski Area, a nice little hill with some short, steep sections, served by several rope-tows, so that made me think of the nearby Paul Bunyan Ski Hill where I learned to ski!

Kettlebowl is a segment I’d read about as one where people had trouble getting lost so I was a bit nervous. It was rated a 4 / 4 so that got our attention as well.  In reality, it was mostly wide forest roads, with numerous intersections.  Perhaps in full leaf out, some of the signage is obscured, but we had no issues.  We did have over 1000 feet in elevation gain, but easier to do with wide grassy paths versus narrow rocky trails.

 Our group set off fast, which helped warm us up on the cold morning. After a mile, the layers started coming off.  After about 3 miles though, I backed off a bit to enjoy the hike a bit more.  Most of this area had been logged long ago, and has a successional forest of aspen and birch.  Without leaves, we could really see through the trees – lots of hills, kettles, large rocks.  We didn’t see wildlife, but I’m sure they saw us!

After about 5 miles we had a break – I went into the trees to find a large rock to sit on while I enjoyed the coffee I’d brought along with a fig bar.  I really enjoyed the tranquility of being “alone” in the forest, knowing Jeff and my friends were just over the ridge – not exactly out of ear shot, so I had my “adventure with security” moment.  I honestly cannot imagine doing these treks alone, but many people do.  Our group is so compatible too, its ok for some to head out fast and work on cardio, and for others to linger back and talk or just enjoy the solace of the hike.

We completed the nearly 10-mile trek well before noon.  We’d left two cars there, so Gary and Lynn headed back to Antigo to pick up Kent at the hotel, while Jeff and I drove Dan and Tam back to their car.  We all met up at the Dixie Diner in Antigo for a hearty lunch.  I was thinking cheeseburger of course, but their special today was a Pastie – either beef or chicken variety.  My love of dough led me to choose that option – it was good, but very different than what I was used to.  It had large chunks of beef and potatoes, while I’m used to more of finely diced version, more like a hash stuffed in a pastry.  

After lunch, we drove back to the cemetery where the Kettlebowl segment ended to begin what’ll be a 30-mile connecting route (CR) – through the end of the Guthook West portion and onto the Central portion of the app!  Since we had a great day and we were all feeling good, we decided to knock off 5 miles of the CR, and Kent walked with us – we felt complete as a group again!

I’d developed a small blister on my right heel yesterday, that was unusual.  This morning’s hike, even though I’d had a Band-Aid on it, expanded it to quarter size.  It didn’t prevent me from hiking; I hardly thought about it.  But I’ll need to work on route cause (probably will have to give up pedicures and my foot softening lotion and build up my calluses before September)!

We had a fast 5 miles back to the tiny village of Polar, then a shuttle back to the cars and we were all on our way home.  We’re still a 2.5-hour drive to our home – getting closer as the “crow flies,” but its still a remote location with small county roads to drive to get to our locations.  After our 4 days next month, we’ll be within two hours – still too far for day trips, but that will come this summer.

[emiwrites3reads]

His Mate Pt.3

Klaus while being part werewolf never believed he would find a mate, while their are werewolves that don’t believe in them, he does, just that he doesn’t have one. That is until he met a young werewolf, friend of the Salvatores.

Warnings: angst and graphic descriptions of gore

Part two: https://emiwrites3reads.tumblr.com/post/189765059236/his-mate-pt2

His mate masterlist; https://emiwrites3reads.tumblr.com/post/190164847716/his-mate-masterlist

Y/n runs out of the house as fast as possible, before any vampire can tell her what to do. Seeing the worry in Romi’s eyes sparked something in her wolf, determination. She could tell someone was wrong. Something bad. And oh was she right.

She practically races Romi to the larger camp. He beta tells her of an attack, but the details go out the other end. She needs to get there and fast, especially with the word “injuries” being thrown around.

Pulling up to the camp, her heart drops. It wasn’t just Sarah, August, and Julia hurt. No, most of the pack was. Blood turns the grass red. A body lays lone near a tree. Seeing the softness of the face, the blood stained blonde hair, and what would be blue eyes, it’s Sanvi. Y/n rushes to the side of her childhood friend, tears streaming from her eyes.

“Your going for medical school right....? You think...” Romi says behind her. Y/N feels her focus shifting, blurring even. Seeing the ruby colored surp covering her friend, leaking from vicious flashes of a wolf. A bite wound showing an animal ripped her friends neck, leaving only half of it. The tactics of the attackers. She has seen this before, only in rumors. A gang of rouges traveling, seeking to rip the hearts of packs to fill their own void. Bone from the spine and the arteries and veins stick out, her pale skin tainted red with blood.

“We need real medical professionals Romi.... I-I don’t think I can handle this...”

“They’re going the ask questions, mass animal attack? That’s going to hunters, which I’m suprised none showed yet” Romi contradicts. Y/n slips out her phone, whipping her tears away and fiery filling her eyes.

“Damon... uuuh I need you to do some compelling.... some friends of mine got hurt and if nurses and doctors start asking questions, it won’t look good” Y/N says, the line going straight to voicemail. The originals are still in control.

“I suppose I might be able to help” Klaus. Y/N turns to the hybrid who steps from behind a tree. Y/N feels her heart start racing. This is the last thing her pack needs. A original helping them, especially Klaus. They only want what’s good for them.

“Right, like your suddenly nice and cheery and wanting to help” Y/N replies. She can feel Romi’s breathing accelerating. “Why help us”

“I-I uh... I don’t know” the hybrid looks down, in thought. He looks up and clears his throat, “but having a pack owing me a favor could do me wonders”

“Of course” Romi’s voice echoes behind her. Y/n feels fear surfacing. Her wolf, telling her to run yet at the same time telling her to trust the original. Y/N believed she could trust her wolf, but now her instincts are keeping things from her. She no longer knows who to trust if she can’t even trust herself.

“Fine. But don’t you dare turn them into hybrids” Y/N practically challenges the originals. His response, suprises her. The hybrid smirks, almost enjoying her fire. He walks past her and to the main cabin. The cabin house. The scent of blood reaks from it.

“You know, I’m not as bad once you get to know me” the hybrids voice picks up. His eyes flash something towards her, sending tingles throughout her. Y/n turns away from his gaze.

Stepping into the house, the survivors are helping those injured. Bringing water, fruits and food, and new bandages. They turn to look at her with quizzical eyes, falling to the original hybrid. “Don’t worry, he’s here to help... why I don’t know”

“By blood will heal them” Klaus turns to Y/N.

“Okay, feed who you can, but remember what I said”

After some hours later, the supernatural blood of the hybrid heals the pack members. Y/n and Romi burry the bodies of those who didn’t make it in time. 5 in total. The pack tells the family of those who know of werewolves and supernatural the truth, and covered it up as a camping accident for those who don’t.

“Why” Y/n looks to close, who sits with her in front of a large bon fire held to celebrate those who’ve fallen. She watches him carefully. His demeanor changes. It softens, showing another side of the hybrid she knows.

“I wish I could say” Klaus looks to her, his eye sparkling. He turns away as Elijah walks in, clearing his throat. Klaus hides the disappointment and annoyance. “Brother”

“Interesting, I thought her blood would of been scattered through these woods but it appears I’m wrong” he gestures to the toe sitting on a log together. Y/n looks over to her Beta who sits with his boyfriend. An unknown feels fills through her as she turns back to klaus.

“No, but the pack’s blood that attacked her will be” Klaus’ eyes flash yellow. Y/n feels at peace with this. Happy even. She can’t explain it. She still doesn’t trust klaus but he seems different when he’s not... afraid.

Klaus walks her into the Salvatore house. The building feels stuffy already and the Klaus she saw at the camp disappears. Damon and Stephen run to her, shock on their faces seeing her unharmed. “Did he torture you and then heal you?” Damon says.

“No, he helped me...... with an issue at my friends” Y/n walks away before they could ask any questions. Everything turns back to normal like nothing happened at all. It almost saddens her.

“What was the issue?” Stephen says.

“His uh.... cat got chased up a tree” as soon as she says it she realizes how lousy of a excuse it is.

“Right, because werewolves and cats mixed really well” Damon says.

“You do realize I have 2 cats right?” Y/n turns to Damon, her brows raising at him. She gives the two brothers a look saying she doesn’t want to talk about it. She throws herself in the couch and scavenges through her tumblr feed.

The weight on the couch shifts and she sees Klaus siting next to her. She closes off her phone and turns to him to see him looks down at her. His arm practically around her neck. “Hey....?” She questions.

“So, I was thinking, staying here isn’t a safe place, we need another and then I remember that place you showed me today, it seemed really safe”

“No- no way, no way are you staying there....you can stay at my house if you really need to” she looks to him, glare and spice flickering in her eyes. A grin spreads across his face, making her regret everything back at the camp.

Klaus gets up and Elijah joins him. The two Salvatore brothers watch curiously at the trio. Leads the way to her home.

When they enter her house, klaus turns to her. “You know why I did that? Do you?”

“Because your still a jerk and will always be?”

“No, I know you don’t want those two knows about your little settlement there, so I figure if we plan somewhere away it’ll get things done quicker” Y/n looks to klaus and to Elijah who seemingly follows him everywhere.

“Fine, lets get planning” Y/n goes over to the coffee table in her living room and opens up her laptop. Her fingers gracefully travel across the keyboard, typing away and clicking away as she searches for rumors of The Blood Stone pack. She clicks on an article, one that has been recently updated.

At first it looks like a dead end. the outdated colors and coding of the website, it not even starting about the pack but about legends of werewolves and vampires. The further she scrolled, more comments about the constant odd murder cases being closed off as animal attacks, with bodies drained of blood and bodies torn by bears.

“What’s this?”

“A thread, I think I know who did it, I’m seeing if they are in town but this thread is a dead-“ she stops. A name appears on the thread, Jessica Banes. She is the supposed leader of the pack. She simply states that the local folklore doesn’t have to do anything with vampires and werewolves and that everyone here is speaking nonsense. The replies to that are asking her about Blood Stone pack. “It’s the leader- well supposed leader”

“Interesting” Klaus sits down next to you, his demeanor once again soft yet stronger. He reads the form with her, she continues to scroll but he stops her for a second, placing his hand on hers and then awkwardly pulling away as they both feel tingles climb up their arms.

“Ehem, um this name here, I saw him taking to one of the bartenders here in town, there was a pretty red head with him as well, she seemed to control him like there was a leash on him” Klaus points to the commenter, Jared Jones.

“I think I’ve seen him around too, with a red head as well, tall long dark hair, yeah” Y/N ignores how she feels about klaus calling someone pretty. She wonders how they will get them near them.

“I have an idea, I’ll host a ball” Y/N blinks in response. Confused spreads wide across her face. She wonders, how will a ball help? Sure, maybe they will show up, but there’s so many people.

“How will that help? There’s going to be so many people”

“They don’t knkw we know their identities, and trust me those aren’t rumors, I’ve been alive awhile to know, I’ll have a bouncer check names and sign people in and we can send them to talk to me about a deal when really I’ll be tearing their heart out”

“You mean when I will be tearing their heart out” Klaus smirks. His gaze filled with pride and wonder. Y/n smiles back at him as his smirk turns to a smile.

“I think you’re starting to grow on me” he murmurs.

“I can say the same thing”

Taglist:

@chloe-skywalker

@chaoticneutralpizza

Thank you guys so much for reading this far! I don’t think I ever updated this much with this many parts before. I hope you really enjoy it and I was wondering, if klaus should ever fully turn, what do you think his wolf would look like in the show?

#klaus x werewolf reader #klaus x reader #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson #damon salvatore #stefan salvatore #salvatore #mikaelson #vampire diaries #the originals #originals #vampire #werewolf #fanfiction #emi3ffics

[harley-sunday]

A Good Man Goes to War [01]

Summary: Starts right after Civil War. Steve Rogers is done being Captain America and quite happy living a quiet life in a safe house somewhere in Canada. Until Thanos goes after the Infinity Stones. What happens when a good man goes to war? 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC (f) but could be read as reader insert.

Warnings: Minor language.

Word count: 4.5k-ish

Entry for @browngirlmagic​‘s writing challenge.  My prompt was “Demons run when a good man goes to war.”

AN: By now you all know I need validation, hence the quick update. Like I said before, this is unlike anything I’ve ever written before, so please let me know what you think. It’s kind of scary to put this out there ♥

I don’t do taglists, but if you follow Harley Sunday x Steve Rogers you should see any update I post.

Masterlist

He sleeps for most of the first couple of days he’s there, as if his body and mind finally allow him to catch up on all those hours of sleep he’s missed over the years. When he is awake he always finds a fresh glass of water and a plate of sandwiches on his bedside table, which he is grateful for because even though he is still so tired, he is also quite hungry. As he eats, he listens for her from his bedroom, more often than not hearing her quietly humming along to whatever song is playing on the sound system while she busies herself downstairs. 

It is on day five that he finally wakes up feeling well rested, but when he sees himself in the mirror in the bathroom they share he has to do a double take because his beard has taken over half his face and he almost doesn’t recognize himself. Still, he keeps it, only trimming the edges. The shower is nice and hot and he comes out of it feeling ten times better. He puts on a pair of dark blue jeans and pairs it with a flannel button down shirt that seems appropriate in this setting.

He finds her in the kitchen, kneading some dough that he hopes will get turned into more of that fabulous homemade bread. “Hey,”

“Well, hello Sleeping Beauty,” she says from over her shoulder, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she smiles.

“Yeah,” he runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest at the base of his neck, “sorry about that.”

She tuts, shaking her head, “Please. After what you’ve been through I didn’t expect you back in the land of the living for at least another day or two.” 

“So you know then?”

“It was in the file Nick sent over after he made the call,” she replies almost apologetically. Then, as though she wants to change the subject, “There’s fresh coffee in the pot.”

“You’re the best,” he says with a grin, realizing he actually means it. He wraps both his hand around the mug after he’s poured the coffee, leaning against the counter to her right, watching her as she kneads, and kneads, and kneads. She makes it looks effortless, but he’s sure he’d be able to mess it up if he ever gave it a try. His eyes travel across the kitchen and the living room and he finds more and more evidence of ultra modern technology he hadn’t seen when he first got here. He figures that even though it might look like a simple log cabin from the outside, it is probably decked out with the latest technology on the inside, which, no doubt, is a requirement for a safe house. 

“So, I assume you have some questions?” She gives the dough a final fold before she picks it up and carefully drops it into a bread basket. She washes her hands and dries them off on the towel hanging over her shoulder before she helps herself to a cup of coffee and gestures towards the living room, “Let’s sit down.”

He finds himself pulling out a chair at the dining table, sitting opposite of her, realizing then that yes, he actually does have some questions. Which is strange because he always thought it would be the other way around. But she mentioned a file from Nick earlier, and if one thing, those always tend to be very detailed. He allows himself to really look at her then, instead of those quick glances he kept stealing on the way from the airport. She has kind face, there’s no doubt about it, but there’s also something else there, something he recognizes as sadness and he wonders what her story is. That’s not for now though, he decides.

“Don’t be shy,” she challenges him from across the table, a mischievous grin playing around on her lips.

“Ok,” he starts, “This is your cabin, right?”

“Yes,”

“Right,” he replies. “Please don’t be offended, but-”

“You want to know if I’m going to be here all the time or if I’m actually going to leave you alone at some point?”

“Well,” he sighs then because she seems to have read his mind. “Yeah.” 

She laughs, “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” She looks around the room, “The cabin and I, we’re kind of a package deal.”

“That’s fine,” he’s quick to reassure her. “I’ve been on my own long enough, I quite like having someone around.”

“Good,” she says before she fishes a piece of paper from the pocket of her apron and slides it towards him. “Chores are another part of the deal I’m afraid-”

“Seems fair,” he quickly assures her. 

“It’s just,” she starts, smiling, “you could probably chop more firewood in an hour than I could in a day so it would just be a waste of resources if I didn’t let you do that.” Her finger taps the second line then, “I will make breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but in return you’re in charge of the dishes and taking out the garbage.”

He smiles, “No problem.”

“The last one isn’t really essential,” she clears her throat, “but  uh, I’ve already killed so many of them that I’m now putting each and every one that is still here into your care.” 

“How?”

“I don’t know,” she sounds defeated, “I’m just not good at keeping things alive, ok?” She must realize what she’s just said then, because she buries her face in her hands, “Oh God, that came out wrong, because I’m sure I’ll be able to keep you alive.”

“You’d be surprised,” he mutters quitely.

She hasn’t heard because she shakes her head and continues, “It’s just plants I have a problem with.”

He puts one of his hands over hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “It’ll be fine.” 

They settle into an easy rhythm after that, where he’s the one who wakes up early and makes sure to get the coffee going before she joins him downstairs about an hour later. Breakfast then, after which she’s in the kitchen to either make bread, pickle vegetables, or make jam from a variety of berries she finds somewhere deep in the forest, only stopping to make them lunch. He’s outside most of the mornings, chopping firewood, making sure the wood’s properly stacked alongside the cabin, and that there’s enough to last them through most of the winter. He usually tends to her vegetable garden after lunch, even though surprisingly enough she’s been able to keep most of her crops alive so far. 

They go into town about once a week, on Wednesdays, when there’s a farmer’s market, a trip that takes them most of the day and so they treat themselves to lunch at the Thirsty Moose bar, where he takes a special liking to their Philly Cheese Steak Poutine. She tells him she always treats herself to fresh flowers when she’s at the market and so every Wednesday night there’s a new arrangement adorning the dining table. He’s decided he likes it. 

The evenings are spent on the porch, catching the last rays of sunshine after dinner, quietly talking about anything and everything, but nothing too serious yet. They are getting to know each other more day by day and he quite likes that there’s still somewhat of a mystery about her. When it gets too cold they head inside, where she makes them both a hot chocolate that they finish on the couch. He almost always goes to bed first, while she stays up late, reading books about whatever topic holds her interest at that moment. He has seen her scribble little notes in the margins of the pages, and he doesn’t know why, but it makes him like her even more. 

She surprises him with a variety of cupcakes on his birthday, which happens to be exactly two weeks after he’s arrived here. There’s also a gift, and he finds himself a little speechless when he unwraps a beautiful handmade axe, which is amazingly balanced. She tells him he’s been using her lightweight axe, and that this seems to fit him much better. He agrees wholeheartedly. 

She’s put a birthday candle into the strawberry cupcake, telling him he has to make a wish, even though he argues he’s technically ninety-eight and might be too much of a grown up for that. She giggles then, tells him he looks pretty darn good for his age, before she counters that he’s been put on ice for 66 years and so she thinks they’re actually only celebrating his thirty-second birthday. He can’t really argue with that logic and so he blows out the candle in one go. 

She tries to get him to tell her his wish, but he warns her not to push him or he’ll give up on the plants and at least that gets her to back off a little. 

The wish he’s made on his birthday lasts exactly two months. 

And what a great two months they have been, he reminisces. Summers here are mild, she told him, and she wasn’t wrong. Still, being this far north meant they got plenty of sunshine and the forest offered them an abundance of edible plants and berries, which they collected on what quickly became their regular afternoon walks. He feels comfortable around her, things are easy between them, and so he finds himself opening up to her more and more. 

He tells her about his upbringing in Brooklyn, about Bucky, the war, and how lost he felt without his best friend, both the first and second time he thought he had lost him. He admits easily that it took him a long time to somewhat adjust to this modern society he woke up to after being defrosted, and that he’s still not sure he’ll ever really be a part of it. There’s a lump in his throat when he tells her about what happened to Bucky after he fell from the train, and how he ended up fighting his best friend several times before they were able to help him. 

He’s still angry when he talks about the Accords and what happened after, even though he’s quick to reassure her he’s happy that it made him end up here. More about Bucky then, how this time he got to fight alongside his best friend and how Bucky is now trying to heal with the help of T’Challa and his people in Wakanda. He tries to explain Wakanda to her, but knows he’ll never be able to do it justice and so he promises to take her there some day. 

She just lets him talk, only asking questions when something is unclear to her, and God, it feels good to finally tell someone the whole story, even though he’s sure she already knew most of it from the file Nick Fury sent over. Still, she listens and he talks, and he thinks that maybe his birthday wish is coming true. 

But then, somewhere at the end of summer, she calls out for him, “Steve?”

He hears it in her voice, even though he can’t quite explain what it is, only that it’s not good. He stacks the two pieces of firewood he’s holding and rushes inside, finding her in the kitchen, looking upset. 

She nods towards the living room, “There’s someone here to see you.” 

His heart’s in his throat then, because how did they find him? Does this mean he’s compromised? Should he just make a run for it? No, he thinks, he can’t just leave her here. He turns around, a sigh of relief escaping him when he sees the familiar redhead sitting on the couch.

“Hey, stranger,” she says with a smile.

“Natasha.” He wants to be happy to see her again, really he does, but he knows she’s not just here on a social call and so he asks, “Sam?”

“He’s outside,” she replies with a nod towards the front porch. 

“You can come in,” he says, knowing the comms unit she’s wearing will pick up his voice, and sure enough, Sam comes bursting through the door seconds later.

“Steve, man it is good to see you!” 

He returns the hug, because yes, it is good to see his friends again even though he’s sure what will follow next will make him wish they never showed up. He tells them to take a seat on the front porch, says he will join them in a minute.

Natasha glances over his shoulder with a knowing look, then throws him a wink before she gently pushes Sam outside.

He turns around, “I’m sorry, I had no idea-”

“I know,” she smiles. She holds up the phone he knows only Nick Fury has the number of, “The message came just as they pulled up. I would have told you earlier, but I didn’t-”

“Hey, no,” he takes a few quick steps towards her, hands on her arms. “I’ll go find out what they want ok?”

She nods, biting her lip because he’s sure she knows as well as he does it means he’ll have to leave soon. “I’ll,” her voice catches in her throat, “I’ll get you some coffee.” 

“Thank you.” He lets go of her, but then something makes him go back and kiss the top of her head, “It’ll be alright.”

“Yeah.” 

He joins Natasha and Sam outside then, listens to what they’ve been up to these past weeks, not surprised to learn they’ve gone rogue and are now doing missions on their own. He asks how they found him, but he doesn’t get a straight answer out of either of them, even though he knows they must have contacted Nick. He’s the only one who knows where he is. 

“Cap,” Sam starts once there are three steaming mugs of coffee in front of them. “We need you, man.” He looks at Natasha, but she just nods, and so he continues, “These missions, well, it’s not like they’re super dangerous, but there’s only so much we can do when it’s just the two of us.”

“We’re doing Nick Fury’s dirty work,” Natasha explains, “but it’s work that needs to be done.” And, because she knows him and knows what he’s about to ask next, “It’s not illegal per se, but yes, we are trespassing and taking things that technically don’t belong to us.”

He nods, leaning back in his chair.

“Look, Steve,” Natasha puts a hand on his arm, making him look at her, “we wouldn’t be here if it was absolutely necessary.” She explains then, how there are five missions in total, spanning a little over a year, that he’d be gone no more than six weeks at a time, that she and Sam will do all the preparations, that he just has to show up and help them complete the mission. 

“I don’t know.” He sighs, casting a glance over his shoulder, finding her in the kitchen, where she’s trying to knead some bread but he can tell her heart’s not in it. They’ll have to feed it to the birds, he thinks wryly. He looks back at Sam and Natasha, knows they need him too if not more, knows he’ll never be able to forgive himself if something happens to them because he’d rather stay here and ignore the outside world. “I’ll do it,” he says, “but not as Captain America.”

Natasha nods, “That seems fair.”

“So you’re really going rogue with us then?” Sams asks with a grin. “Tell me, man, what should we call you now that you’re not carrying the shield?” 

He thinks about that for a while, but then, because it seems fitting, “Nomad.”

He can tell she’s not happy about it, even though she never says anything. If anything she just becomes more distant, the chatty nights on the porch now spend indoors, with her reading, and reading, and reading, and him waiting until Natasha sends him the mission details on the secure phone she handed him after their visit. It hurts, but he gets why she feels this way, she was meant to keep him safe, after all. He’s tried to explain once, why he choose to go, but she just shook her head and he stopped talking. 

When they go into town together that Wednesday he lets her do the grocery shopping, while he meets up with the guy he’s been in contact with about the bike he has for sale. It’s a Harley Davidson WLA ‘Liberator’ and it reminds him of the bike he used to drive when he was in Europe. After taking it for a test drive and agreeing on the price he’s a little hesitant to show her his purchase, but she just shrugs and tells him it’s a nice looking bike. Small victories, he supposes. 

The message comes a week later, just as he’s done with the dishes for the day, giving him the coordinates to the pickup point where they’ll pick him up with the Quinjet the next morning. His GPS tells him it’s a three hour drive from here and so he’ll have to get up early, meaning he only has one night with her before he has to leave. He tells her about the mission, that this is their last night together for a while and to his surprise she asks if he wants to have a hot chocolate on the porch.

“I’d love to,” he replies, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. It’s already getting dark outside and so he busies himself turning on the two gas lanterns on either end of the porch before lightning the candles on top of the table. 

She joins him not much later, handing him a big mug topped with a generous amount of whipped cream, “Here you go.” 

“Thank you,”

“Listen, I uh,” she sits down on one of the Adirondack chairs and motions for him to do the same. “I’m sorry, about well,” she raises her eyebrows, “this week, I suppose.”

“Honestly, don’t-”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I wasn’t being fair. You don’t have to answer to me about well, anything you do, really.”

“Except the plants,” he says, trying to let her know it’s ok. That he understands.

“Except the plants,” she echoes, smiling. 

“I left the instructions  on the fridge, ok?” 

She nods, “I will follow them to a T.” She looks at him then, “Just be careful, ok? The plants and I’d like to see you back here in one piece.”

“Will do,” 

“Promise me.” Her voice catches in her throat somewhere and she tries to smile but he can tell she’s fighting back tears.

He reaches for her from across the table, his hand on hers as he gives it a little squeeze, “I promise.”

He’s missed her, he realizes now that he’s finally on his way back to her. 

He’s been gone for almost four weeks, the mission somewhere in South America, where the weather was much more forgiving than what he’s dealing with now. The cold wind bites through his gloves and jacket, like little needles pricking in his skin. The signs along the road tell him he’s almost there and so he opens up the throttle, wanting nothing more than to see her again as soon as possible. 

She must have heard his bike coming up the road because she’s waiting for him on the porch, smiling when she sees him pulls up.

He parks the bike at an impossible angle, right in front of the steps leading up to the cabin, but he doesn’t care, because it only means he can get to her quicker. He takes his helmet off as he steps off the bike and hangs it on the handle bars, before he walks up to her and wraps her in his arms, “Hi.”

“Hi,” she says from somewhere against his chest, her arms having found their way around him. “I’ve missed you.” 

He lets go of her ever so slightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “I’ve missed you too.” 

She looks up at him, “Are you ok?”

“Yes,” he nods, “I am now.”

“Come on,” she lets go of him and takes one of his hands in hers, “let’s get you inside.” She leads him to the kitchen, where she examens him carefully, her brows furrowed when she sees he’s got several cuts on his face.

“It’s nothing,” he assures her, but then her fingers ghost over the cut above his brow and he winces, because he took a pretty hard blow there just this morning, the skin still tender. 

She tuts, “Go take a shower. I’ll take care of that once you’re done.”

“It’ll be healed by tomorrow,” he counters. “The serum, remember?”

“Yeah, well, humor me.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest then, “Upstairs. Shower. Now.”

He does as he’s told, the warm water actually making him feel a bit more human. He puts on a pair of sweatpants she bought for him on one of their trips into town, claiming you can’t really relax in a pair of jeans when he told her he didn’t have any other pants. He grabs a t-shirt from out of his closet, not bothering to put it on because he knows she’ll want to see if there are any other cuts and bruises that need her attention.

“Jesus Christ,” she mutters quietly when he makes his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. She lets her eyes travel across his chest before she looks up at him, “Are you even real or?”

He chuckles and shrugs, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs. 

Standing in front of him she hands him the first aid kit, her fingers once again examining his skin, her eyes widening in surprise when she sees most of the cuts are starting to heal already. “You really weren’t kidding,” she whispers.

His eyes find hers and he shakes his head, “Nope.” 

Something that looks like relief flashes across her eyes then, but she hides it by telling him to put his shirt on and handing him a cup of hot chocolate.

Natasha already warned him that the next mission would start soon, but he never thought he’d only get four days of rest before they’d ask him to head out again. The mission brief suggests a short trip, two weeks tops, but he knows from experience that’s way too optimistic. At least the pickup point is closer this time, only a two-hour drive from the cabin and they won’t pick him up until late tomorrow afternoon so at least he still gets to spend some time with her. And the plants that have been in her care the past four weeks.

“You know what?” He can’t help but smile when he examines her work, “I’m not mad about this.”

“No?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “you really did a great job.”

“So they’re fine?” 

“More than, I’d say.” He turns towards her, a little thrown of by the mischief in her eyes. “What?”

“Even that one?” She points to one of the succulents in the windowsill, and he can tell she’s trying to keep a straight face.

He looks closer and laughs then, “It got smaller.”

She giggles, “It got replaced.” She throws her hands up in defense then, “I don’t know what happened, one day he was fine and the next-” she makes a face, “-dead.” 

“Uhu,”

“Steve, I promise, I did everything you told me to do.” 

He throws an arm around her shoulder then, pulling her close, “You can’t keep buying new plants every time one dies.”

She scoffs, “I’ve been doing it for years.”

He was right about the second mission, they were gone a little over six weeks and by the time he gets back the forest is covered in a thin layer of snow and so he has to park his bike on the side of the house, next to where’s he stacked to firewood. He finds her on the porch, like the last time, and she throws her arms around him as he pulls her into a hug.

“I thought you were never coming back,” she says quietly.

“I know,” 

“Let’s go inside,” 

He takes her outstretched hand and follows her into the cabin, the warm glow of the fireplace welcoming him back. Like last time, she examines him closely, but he came out pretty unscatched and so she’s quick to tell him to go take a shower. She asks if he is hungry when he’s halfway up the stairs, and when he tells her he is, she sets out to make him a quick dinner of some leftover she finds in the fridge. 

She allows him to eat his dinner on the couch, which she’s never done before, but she must see how tired he is. This mission was a waiting game more than anything else, long days spent trying to gather as much intell as possible before moving in to secure what they came for. 

“I really missed you,” she says suddenly, and when he looks at her he finds her eyes a little glossed over. “I never felt lonely here before, but this time, I don’t know,” she tries to smile, and he can tell she’s trying not to make too much of a big deal out of it. 

He puts his plate down on the coffee table and motions for her to come closer, wrapping his arm around her once she’s snuggled up to him, “I really missed you too.”

#Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers fanfic #ayesha1kwritingchallenge #Harley Sunday x Steve Rogers #Captain America

[kinghoranshit]

Middle of the Night (1D)  Ch 2

Word Count: 1,555

I ran a hand through my hair with a sigh and walked out into the main cabin of the bus. The guys ate pizza as they lounged in the dining booth. The boys stopped and stared at me, jaws wide open. What? Good one, Izzie. Ask it aloud this time. 

I cleared my throat. “What?”

I noticed Liam shift uncomfortably in his seat and it looked like he was trying to cover something up. My eyes went wide. It didn’t take a lot now to realize what was going on. I had plenty of experience with this. I knew I was not alone in my apartment, so my normal pjs of an oversized tee and boyshorts were probably not the best option. But we were all friends, I had no interest in any of them, and half of them were taken so this shouldn’t be a big deal. Most of all, I hadn’t thought to pack other pjs. I guess we’d have to stop somewhere so I could buy more proper ones. 

I made a low whistle. “Sorry guys, I don’t have any other pjs.”

Louis shot up from where he was sitting, fast, and went into the back bunks. He came back with a pair of joggers and tossed them to me. “Wear these for tonight, love.”

“I would ask if you’re joking, but I know you’re not,” I replied with a smirk. I tugged the black sweatpants on right there, then flopped down beside Louis. 

I reached out to grab a slice, took a bite, and internally cringed. But I smacked my lips dramatically. “Mmm, good pizza.” 

My mind trailed to what I needed to do later. It wouldn’t be too hard to escape out, but the finding of food would be the real test. A rat or something would be better than nothing. 

Harry snorted. “What movie should we watch before sleep?”

“Insidious two,” Niall answered deviously. 

I’ve seen a lot of scary things. I was considered a scary creature. Yet, I still did not like scary movies, especially demons taking over humans. Which I knew was ironic. 

I couldn’t stop the look I shot him. 

Louis wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave a couple pats. “You can hide your face in one of our chests, don’t worry.” 

“Y’all wish… Please pick something else.” I lightly shoved his hand off. I didn’t have the patience for it. 

“Nope.” Niall stuffed the last of the crust into his mouth before he stood. 

I groaned. There was no getting out of it. That was clear. I was going to have to put my big girl fangs on and suck it up. 

***

My eyes were glued to the screen even though I wanted to look away. I was snuggled up next to Niall, his arm around my shoulders, and a blanket covered us. It was now I closed my eyes tightly and hid my face in his chest. This was the last thing I needed to watch before I slipped out into the night and possibly fed. I was probably the wimpiest vampire ever in those regards. 

I stayed like that until I heard someone whisper, “The movie’s over.”

I peeked one eye open to look at the TV screen, it was turned off. I sat up straight and realized we were the only two out here.

“They all went to get ready for bed,” Niall filled in.

I mouthed an ‘oh’ with a slow nod. I gestured towards the back. “You should probably go do that.”

He smirked. “No need, I don’t sleep with anything on.”

I rolled my eyes. “So I can’t wear the oversized shirt, but you can wear nothing? That’s a lousy double standard.”

“In all honesty, we didn’t think girls slept like that.”

“Women like to be comfortable too.”

He chuckled. “Touche.”

I stood, leaving the safety of his arms and the blanket we snuggled under. “I’m going to bed.” But really, it was a ploy of hope they’d follow in suit. 

Louis snickered as he walked back out in a pair of Adidas shorts and a loose tank. “So soon?” 

I raised my brows. “I’m surprised you’re not with the day you have tomorrow. I’m not even doing half of what you are and I’m already feeling the energy being drained from me at the thought of-” 

“I was only teasing, we’re all going to bed soon,” he replied.

“Right, then goodnight.”

I squeezed my way past the other three to find my bunk. Once I was under the covers and bundled, I shifted myself to face the wall. It was easier to pretend to sleep if they couldn’t see my face. 

Eventually, I heard all the others climb into their own bunks and the light was shut off, and now the area was illuminated by the emergency light strips.  All my senses shifted to my hearing and focused on the boys’ breathing patterns. It was easy to tell when someone was actually sleeping by their breathing and heart rate; slow and steady was what I wanted. Once I knew they were out, I tiptoed outside.

The hope to not have to fly was low. Being in the suburbs did not lend the luxury of a lot of animals. I sniffed the air for something. Anything. I caught the scent of a deer. About twenty miles North from here. There must be small woods. I bent my knees a bit to give leverage and pushed off to fly.

I followed the scent all the way up till the edge of the woods. My feet planted on the dirt floor and I searched around. The deer hid a couple trees over from me. I tiptoed over to hide behind a tree and check it out. There was a low growl and I noticed the bobcat in the distance, it’s eyes set on my meal. Fuck this. I sniffed it out first. I guess I’d have to feed on the bobcat instead since it would never back down. Plus, I’d rather let the deer live than this predator.

My eyes narrowed on the bobcat that stalked toward my old meal, who didn’t seem to notice it. I lengthened my fangs and took an attentive step forward, which revealed me. The bobcat noticed and hissed at me, showing its fangs.

I snickered. “I have fangs of my own.”

I charged at the bobcat and tackled it to the ground. It fought against me, hard, by wiggling its body. It forced me to double down on my hold, using up any strength I had left. I opened up the neck by setting one of my hands under it’s jawline then I sunk my fangs into it- a dying growl leaving it for a moment. Now the sounds of my gulps were present. Then warm, metallic ran down my throat and slowly I could feel my body getting stronger again. The control of every cell returned. It didn’t feel like I was walking on pins anymore. 

Once I finished, I retracted my fangs and wiped my face off. I drug the bobcat and stuffed it into an empty log, then I took some brush rubble and covered it up. I brushed off any evidence that I would lead someone to believe I’d been in the woods before I flew back to the bus.

I snuck back inside, going straight for the bathroom to clean off the dirt I couldn’t wipe off, and took my contacts now since I didn’t need them anymore. But when I took them out, my eyes were still red.

“This is… bad,” I mumbled.

Vampires were not created to survive only on animal blood. We could get away with it for a few centuries. But eventually our bodies needed the nutrients that only could come from humans. This worried me immensely. There was the chance of going ripper again; it was a completely different person. I couldn’t control them. I couldn’t just wear the contacts for eternity and pretend. The wait would only make it worse. 

I let out a low breath and put my contacts back in for now. I’d figure out a way to get human blood without hurting a person. I climbed back into my bed and heard Harry stir, which made my breath hitch in the back of my throat. I waited a few, hesitant seconds before he rolled to face his wall. A low breath left me and I completely pulled myself under the covers. 

“Where did you go?” someone mumbled tiredly.

Shit. I looked across the small hall at Louis; his bunk was on the opposite side of me.

“Just had to use the loo,” I answered, the british slipped out. The loo? I really hated myself right now. 

There was a moment of interest flickering in his pupils, then he licked his lips and snuggled more under his covers. “Okay,” he muffled into his pillow.

Not even a full 24 hours and I almost blew my cover. It was easier to be a loner when I was who I was. Yet, that was a miserable life. Trust me, I tried for centuries. The connection of relationships made this sentence less horrible. Once I had human blood, hopefully without the demon inside of me taking over, I’d be able to hide myself.  

Next: Ch 3 (to come...)

[Masterlist]

#Middle of the Night #1D #1D fic #1D fanfiction #fic #fanfiction #vampire #supernatural #niall horan #Louis tomlinson #harry styles #liam payne #one direction

[journal-of-an-outlaw]

Secret Santa Gift!!

Merry (one day late oops) Christmas, @tex-studmister ! I'm your @rdrsecretsanta Secret Santa this year, and you wanted a cute fic for Arthur and Charles. Hope you had a great holiday!!

Arthur sneezed. Again. He was doing a poor job of hiding his cold and everyone at camp knew it. There was nothing more the man hated than being sick; his own body turned against him to make him feel weak and unable to go about his normal tasks. There was usually a constant string of requests for him to run errands or get this or that for someone, but Hosea had stemmed the tide and held off folks from bothering him too much once he noticed that his adoptive son was feeling under the weather. 

Charles watched Arthur struggling to chop wood and rolled his eyes. Part way through his third log he coughed so hard the axe fell from his hands, hitting the ground near his feet and Charles took this as his queue to approach. He picked up the weapon and watched Arthur turn away, muttering something about inhaling too much dust. 

“Arthur, you need to rest. It’s not good to carry on like this when you’re sick.” 

“Ain’t sick, Charles. Just got something in my throat is all.” 

Charles laughed softly, placing an arm behind the other man’s back and leading him away from the main camp. “Something in your eyes, too then? Your lungs? You’ve been coughing and sneezing away for days now, admit you’re sick.” 

“I said I��m not sick, Charles! Why do you want me to say it so bad?” 

As he guided Arthur into their tent, Charles pushed him lightly so he sat on the bed. “I want you to let me take care of you.”

“Ah, fine. I usually get sick this time of year anyway, so ain’t nothing special." 

Charles spoke slowly as an idea formed in his head, "Why shouldn't we make it special?" 

Arthur stared, confused. "Just me being...sick. How special can that be? I can’t do much besides wish I was dead in the ground instead of lying up here useless. What are you planning, Charles?”

“Hunting. Let’s go for the night, let you really rest in a cabin somewhere by the fire. I’ll shoot some deer and cook it for you. Have a...special evening away from camp and everyone here.”

Arthur blushed slightly and tried to cover it up with a cough, but he was touched by Charles’ concern and desire to treat him back to health. “Why you wanna go through all that effort just for me?” 

Charles shrugged. “It’s Christmas. And it’s the season for kindness. Or maybe I just want to spoil my husband and let him know the work he does is appreciated.” Arthur rubbed his hands over his face and Charles laughed softly, kneeling down in front of the older man trying to hide his embarrassment. “I’ll go let Dutch know, you just pack and be ready to leave by morning.” He pressed a kiss to Arthur’s forehead and left the tent.

Sitting alone, Arthur let out a few more coughs and resented the sickness huddled in his chest. He hadn’t felt this sick in years, but knew the cold would pass in a week or two. Usually when he got this way he wanted nothing more than to be alone, but Charles had brought out all kinds of changes in him ever since they grew close in Colter. 

“I don’t think we’ve talked much, you and me.”

How quickly things had changed; in the beginning Charles taught him how to use a bow while Arthur warmed those in the gang to him, and somewhere in between they started to fall. Arthur had never experienced feelings like that before, not even for Mary and tried to hide them. But Charles was in no rush, giving Arthur all the time he needed to accept that someone would willingly give him the love he deserved. 

When Charles asked Dutch to leave camp for a few days he was initially upset. “Christmas is coming up, son, we can’t have our family split apart right now!” Knowing how the leader worked he waited a few moments. Dutch puffed his cigar and thought. And paced. Then finally came to a conclusion. 

“Fine. You two can go out hunting for a few days. I see the need to make your own traditions this time of year, especially your first together.” 

Charles graced Dutch with a rare smile and went to gather provisions for the ride. When he and Arthur first announced that they were planning on getting married, most folks in camp didn’t even know they were together. It was a shock to see Arthur with anyone other than Mary after all these years, but everyone was pleased about it. Hosea was giddy and offered to help coordinate the plans. Mary Beth wanted to be in charge of getting musicians to come out and Tilly knew a few men who could bring moonshine to the camp and really get things swinging after the ceremony. Her words, not Charles’. 

Both of the men were a little hesitant at the thought of a group ordeal, but in the Van der Linde gang there was no such thing as a small celebration, and it ended up being perfect.  

Early the next morning Charles gently shook Arthur’s shoulder, eager to get going. They ate a quick breakfast and then took off north; anticipation building with the increasing amount of snow. 

“My parents never cared for the snow.” Charles broke the silence as he and Arthur rode into a clearing. The trees encased them both in a stunning winter landscape. 

“Really? I thought you all lived up north, though.” 

“You’d think that. My mother lived all of her life outside in her village, being with her people and fishing, mostly. Father was from the south though and he preferred the heat. He loved sitting outside and watching people go by, drinking his whiskey and...well, that’s a lot of what he did.”

Tamia came to a stop. Charles moved nervously on her back and motioned forward. “Here we are.” 

The small cabin stood before them boasting an A frame dotted with snow. A wreath had been placed on the front door with golden bells, a beautiful reminder of the season. Charles took Arthur’s hand and walked to the door to explore inside. A homely scene greeted them, complete with a kitchen, a large bed, and a fireplace located in the middle of the room. It made the men wonder what life outside of being outlaws could be like, what their home could be. 

Arthur coughed, bringing them back to the reason they travelled so far. Charles started a fire and made sure Arthur was lying down before heading out to hunt. He returned an hour later to find the cabin nice and warm, the perfect environment for someone sick to rest and recuperate. This was proven by the snores Charles listened to while he carved the deer to cook for dinner. 

As the logs on the fire burned lower, the glow changed from a warm yellow to a vibrant orange. 

"Arthur...time to get up, dinner is ready." 

Arthur blinked and took in the room around him. "You did this all, for me?" 

Charles laughed softly and brought a bowl of food over for him to eat. The room had been transformed into a beautiful oasis; a tree was chopped down and mounted in the corner, full of and tinsel Charles had brought from camp. Candles were also spread out in various spots causing the light to shimmer and sparkle around the two men. 

"Of course. Like I said, I wanted this to be special. After all, it is our first married Christmas." 

Arthur sat up and kissed Charles, hoping he understood how much everything meant to him. The thought to whisk him away from camp, hunting and cooking for him, taking care of him while sick. Arthur had never experienced such love and it overwhelmed him at times. 

"I really do love you, Charles. Thank you," Arthur was interrupted by a coughing fit, then continued. "This is...more than anyone's done for me. I hope you know…" 

Arthur trailed off and fidgeted with his hands, embarrassed to be caught up in so much emotion. Luckily Charles knew exactly how he felt and ended the thought for him. 

"I do. And I'll be doing it for the rest of my life." Charles took his husband's hands in his own, and looked deep into his eyes. "Merry Christmas, Arthur." 

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #charles smith #fluff #cute #arthur x charles #secret santa #red dead redemption two #rdrsecretsanta

[theycallmebecca]

Can you do #6 with Chris? Thaaaanks!

Here is story #5 for this week and story #17 of 25! Once again, I am going to take this weekend off and I’m going to try and right the last 8 stories. *fingers crossed*

So this is my third? drabble that mentions a treehouse and that’s because I totally want to have a treehouse someday. Like the kind features on the Treehouse Masters show on Animal Channel. Google it, they’re amazing.

Since Tumblr can sometimes be a brat about links, I will reblog this post with a link to the masterlist, prompt list and tags.

Title: The Treehouse

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Rating: PG-13ish

Warnings: nothing really, just a few things here and there

Prompt #: 6 - “Holy shit! I didn’t think it was that big!”

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

Spending the weekend with Chris at his house in rural Massachusetts had become something of a habit for you during the last month or so. You loved the peace and serenity his quiet country home offered in place of the busy hubbub of Boston. Spending quality time with your boyfriend wasn’t too bad either.

This weekend was going to be a little different, however, because he’d promised his niece and nephews that they could spend a weekend with him before school started back up. He’d called you earlier in the week to ask if you wanted to come help him with the kids (despite the fact that you both knew he didn’t need your help) and you had said yes.

Now it was Friday night and the five of you were sitting around the kitchen table eating pizza and salad.

“Can we go to the treehouse after dinner?” his younger nephew asked, in between slices of pizza.

“You guys have a treehouse here?” you asked.

Simultaneously, the three young faces turned to you with astonished looks.

“You don’t know about the tree house?” his oldest nephew asked, his tone one of disbelief.

You shook your head.

Now the kids faces turned towards Chris, all three giving him looks of accusation.

“You haven’t shown her the treehouse!” his oldest nephew exclaimed.

“She’s only been here a few times,” Chris replied, defensively. “And it’s been too hot to spend a lot of time outside.”

Your eyes met his as you mentally added that the two of you had spent most of the past weekends in a semi-state of undress. Both in and out of bed, having finally taken your relationship to the next level after a few months of dating.

“She needs to see the treehouse,” his younger nephew stated.

“YES!” his niece agreed.

“Fine, we’ll take her to the treehouse after dinner,” Chris replied. “But you all have to eat salad so I can tell your mom you ate veggies.”

The three kids groaned, but ultimately each ate a serving of salad.

Forty minutes later, the five of you plus Dodger exited the house through the backdoor. The boys and Dodger ran ahead while you walked with Chris and his niece, each of them holding onto one of your hands.

“The treehouse is in the Enchanted Forest,” his niece told you as the three of you headed to the wooded part of Chris’s property. “And it’s better than my friend Susie’s treehouse. I told her that, but she didn’t believe me.”

Chris chuckled on your other side as his niece talked your ear off as the three of you walked.

As you neared the so called Enchanted Forest, you could see why the little girl called it that. The trees were so massive that they completely blocked the treehouse from view until you were nearly there.

In fact, you didn’t realize that you were there until you saw that the boys and Dodger were waiting for you, Chris and their sister. You turned to ask Chris a question, but froze when you saw what looked like a wood cabin in the tree.

Your mouth dropped open and you stared at the house. The kids giggled with glee and even Chris chuckled.

“That’s the treehouse?” you asked, still in shock.

“That’s the treehouse,” he confirmed.

“Holy shi–itake mushrooms!” you stated, catching yourself just in time. “I didn’t think it was that big!”

“Do you want to go up?” Chris asked you.

“Uh, yeah!” you replied. Then you gave him a look that mimicked the look the kids had given him at the table before saying, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this place!”

“I apologize, my mind must have been elsewhere,” he said, giving you at look that you told you exactly where his mind had been: getting you into his bed.

“COME ON, SLOWPOKES,” one of the boys called from somewhere above you.

Chris took your hand and led you towards the custom, curved, wood staircase that led up to the treehouse. As the two of you climbed, you noticed that the structure was being supported not by one tree, but by several.

The stairs gave way to a wooden porch that was bigger than the living room of your Boston apartment. There were two full sized picnic tables and a barbecue grill that was protected from the elements via a special, built in cubby.

“Come on, the inside is the best part,” Chris’s oldest nephew told you.

“Give her a second,” Chris told him, reaching out to ruffle the boys hair. “It’s not every day you find yourself 10 feet off the ground and in the trees.”

“Remind me not to look over the edge,” you muttered, still in awe over the treehouse. The house itself resembled a log cabin with a peaked roof. It looked charming and maybe a little like the Lincoln Log houses you’d built as a kid. “Shall we go inside?”

The kids cheered and Chris stepped forward, keys in hand. He unlocked the door and then stepped back so you could all go inside before him.

One of the kids flipped on a light and you found yourself once against open mouthed. The majority of the building was one single room that was setup like a family room with a couch and a table to sit around and play games. A small kitchenette with a microwave, mini fridge and sink were on the far side, next to what looked like a closet.

“That’s the bathroom,” his niece told you, pointing to the assumed closet.

“You have plumbing out here?” you asked Chris.

“Yes and no,” he replied. “We had water and electricity run out here, but the toilet is a compositing one. It was too far of a walk to go back to the main house if you had to go to the bathroom.”

“Not for us guys though,” his younger nephew stated. “We can just -”

Chris clamped his hand over the boy’s mouth before he could finish. “No need to tell her what we can just do,” he told him. “She already knows what boys can just do.”

The boy just shrugged and, after his uncle removed his hand, said, “You want to come up to the loft? That’s where our toys are.”

A wooden ladder with handles on either side led to a lofted area that covered the back half of the cabin. It wasn’t a large space, but it was big enough for three kids to each have their own space to place with the multitude of toys and games available to them.

“I wish I’d had something like this when I was a kid,” you remarked. “Your uncle must really love you.”

“He does, he loves us tons,” his niece stated. “He tells us all the time.”

You glance at Chris and saw him smiling at the little girl.

“Can we play for a while?” Chris’s oldest nephew asked.

“Thirty minutes,” Chris replied, after glancing at his watch. “And then it’s back to the main house to get your pjs on so we can watch a movie before bed.”

The kids cheered and started pulling out their favorite toys. They didn’t appear to notice or care when you and Chris climbed down the ladder.

“This place is amazing, Chris,” you said as the two of you sat on the couch with Dodger curled up on his dog bed nearby. “Thanks for finally showing it to me.”

“I would have shown you eventually,” he said with a chuckle. Then in a much lower voice said, “Maybe next weekend you’ll help me christen this place.”

“You mean you haven’t done that already?” you asked. Normally you didn’t pry into his past relationships, nor he you, but you couldn’t help it in this case.

He smiled and replied, “The reason this place didn’t come up sooner is because I built this place with my family in mind. This is where we can come together and get away from the world.” He squeezed your hand. “But like in every other part of my life, you seem like a piece of the puzzle that just fits perfectly.”

“Chris,” you cooed before leaning in to kiss him.

“So is that a yes?” he asked once the two of you had parted. “Are we going to breakin the hide-a-bed next weekend?”

“THERE’S A BED IN HERE?!” a voice exclaimed from above. “I wanna sleep in here!!!”

You dissolved into a fit of giggles while Chris groaned.

#anionthewrite #theycallmebecca #beccaheartschrisevans #theycallmebeccawrites #1k celebration prompt fest #becca writes drabbles #chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #reader insert #chris evans fan fiction

[rk1kheadcanons]

Despite the two being workaholics Connor and Markus love taking a trip out to Carl's cabin deep in the woods. Those days in the woods to recharge are sometimes the best, but coming back home to the city and people is just as great.

Yes!!

I love the concept of like regardless of whether it’s human au or post canon, Carl has a retreat somewhere that Connor and Markus visit. I could almost see it being a yearly/twice a year thing they do as a way to relax.

It’s probably quite a ways away from Detroit too, so it’s a legitimate escape. I’m picturing like some log cabin out by a lake, surrounded in trees, with a neat little fire pit in the front yard not far from the water.

Post-canon Connor would probably tack off a lot of his firsts here. His first time starting and observing a bonfire, his first time fishing, his first time seeing a lot of different wildlife...the list goes on and on.

If it’s winter, they definitely, absolutely, without a doubt engage in snowball fights and build snowmen and one of them wants to go ice skating on the lake, but the other begs them not to because yes it’s cold outside, but the entire lake isn’t frozen what if you fall in????

So naturally, they have a goodass time and they could probably enjoy staying out in the woods a bit longer, but they’re both aching to return to their social lives back in Detroit. And y’know, being a workaholic also means you’re thinking about your job nonstop when you’re away from it, so they’re itching to get back to that too. 

At the same time, they probably wish they were right back out at those woods the instant they get home lmfao.

In any case, i love this hc!

#rk1k #rk1000 #conkus #ask #icequeenforlife

[jovialyouthmusic]

Two’s Company - Changes

A Royal Romance Polyamorous Fanfic

Brad has many questions and Drake struggles to answer them. The dam bursts...

Word Count 2381

A/N This is where we go full on Driam - please, No under 18s and if the idea of two men together isn’t your thing, go no further...

3 The Day it Changed

The next morning Drake walked Brad all over the palace trying to jog his memory. They went to the ballroom where he had first danced with Lucy, and out onto the balcony. They walked to the middle of the maze, and he reminded him of the opening of the racing season, of their visit to Lythikos. Surprisingly he remembered Olivia kissing him on the dancefloor and looked puzzled.

‘I remember inviting someone to my room, to look out at the mountains from the hot tub - it wasn’t Olivia’ He remembered skating and skiing, the ball and the hot chocolate in front of the fire. They talked about Applewood but he couldn’t remember who was voted Apple Queen. He remembered Penelope and Kiara, but not Lucy – and interestingly, not Hana either. They went over the social season and he remembered a few things, then drew a complete blank at the Coronation. He remembered Madeleine but not being engaged to her, and nothing of the scandal concerning Lucy and Tariq.

Eventually Brad balked and refused to try any further.

‘Drake I’m going out of my mind’ he said ‘You’re keeping something from me, I can tell. Please, tell me what it is’

‘I wish I could’ said Drake ‘But the doc said it has to come from you. I have another trick up my sleeve though – there’s someone else that may be able to help you, and we’ll find out tomorrow. But for now, just tell me what you want to do and we’ll do it’

‘I’d like to visit your log cabin, be somewhere quiet and simple’ Brad answered ‘We could stay over, go fishing, have a barbecue’ Drake smiled

‘It’s a bit short notice, but we can do that’ he said ‘I’ll get Bas to drive us over – go pack a bag and I’ll join you. Don’t pack any fancy clothes, casual will do’

Later on they sat outside Drake’s cabin by  the fire pit, loaded with wood that they had gathered from nearby. Bastien had thoroughly checked the surroundings and declared all safe, but all the same was on call at a minute’s notice in another cabin half a mile away. They had gone fishing, and their catch was grilling on a rack over the fire. Brad had been proud of the tiny fish he’d caught, but Drake told him he’d starve if he had to live off what he could catch and promptly caught a fine catfish. They ate from tin plates, taking hot flakes of the tender fish with their fingers and blowing on them, the smoky flavour tasting better than the finest caviar. They drank beer straight from the bottle and the sun slowly set, the air starting to cool.

‘I needed this’ said Brad ‘I’d say I can’t remember when we last did this – but you might tell me we were here only last week’ The firelight cast flickering shadows over his features and Drake couldn’t read his expression.

‘No, it’s been a while Brad’ he said truthfully ‘I don’t come out here as much as I’d like’

‘Drake, we’ve always been close, haven’t we?’

‘Like brothers’ again Drake could not read Brad’s face and had to rely on his tone.

‘More than brothers. Leo dropped me into a role I never expected – but you stood by me, you’ve always had my back. I really appreciate you helping me out. I’d go crazy if you weren’t here – but you deserve more. Why are you still here? How about that girl of yours – don’t you want to go off with her?’ Drake groaned inwardly.

‘I can’t tell you why I’m still here – hopefully you’ll remember soon, but I’m not going anywhere’

‘Drake, can you tell me something?’ he asked

‘If I can’

‘When they gave me my things back from the hospital, they gave me two rings. They both look like wedding rings, and they fit – and I’ve obviously been wearing them, I can tell. So what’s going on?’ Drake put his head in his hands and clenched his fingers into his hair.

‘I’m beginning to sound like a broken record’ he said ‘I can’t…’ Drake was fed up of being strong, of being the one to keep secrets. He didn’t know whether the doctor knew what was best for Brad and he kept pushing, asking questions he couldn’t answer. Lucy was hurting and Brad was oblivious. He didn’t know what to do any more. A dam broke inside him and a sob escaped his lips, and hot tears started to leak past his screwed up eyelids.

In an instant Brad was next to him, arm on his back, soothing him.

‘Drake, don’t - I’m sorry, forget I asked’

‘I want to tell you, and I don’t know if I should. It’s such a mess…’ he croaked. He sobbed, crying it all out, and Brad sat with him, waiting for it to ebb away, hand on his back making soothing circles.

‘Tomorrow’ he gulped ‘Tomorrow you might understand. I hope you do, I really do. I’m tired – so tired. Let’s turn in, tomorrow can’t come soon enough’ He felt wretched, lost, alone.

‘No.’ said Brad ‘Tonight we’re alone together, the outside world is a million miles away. Let’s just let this place be all there is, let’s forget what happened before and not worry about what’s to come. Let’s just be Brad and Drake, I won’t ask any more questions’ Drake smiled wanly.

‘If it was that simple’

‘It can be. Come on, let’s go in. Are you okay with sharing a bed again?’

‘I guess’ Drake was too weak to protest. They went inside to the bedroom and Drake sat wearily on the bed, kicking his shoes off. He lifted up off the mattress to take his jeans off, leaving his briefs on and pushing his socks off. He looked over at Brad taking his shirt off. He was in good shape, his chest broad, belly flat and toned, a shimmer of fair hair ghosting across his body. There was some bruising from the car crash but he had gotten off lightly apart from the blow to the head. Brad looked back at him, undoing his belt and dropping his trousers. Again something between them shifted, and Brad came over and knelt in front of him to unbutton his shirt, as Drake was fumbling them. He let him, just looking at him as he shrugged it off his shoulders, concern and tenderness in Brad’s eyes. Brad took the hem of his t shirt and pulled it up, Drake raising his arms and throwing it off – then as Brad rose he paused and their lips met in a scorching hot kiss.

It felt so right, and Drake was desperate for comfort, for touch. He felt his nose pressed sideways, breath hot on his face, Brad’s lips sucking on his, teeth nipping his bottom lip, and he opened his mouth to push his tongue into Brad’s mouth. Brad’s hand was on the back of his neck, tugging on his hair, and he was pressing his palms to Brad’s back, running them over the smooth muscle. Brad got up and put his knee on the mattress, pushing him back onto the bed, and he went with him, scooting back to lie on his back with Brad over him, mouths still sliding over each other. He didn’t care any more about anything or anyone else, he needed this, needed Brad, needed a release. Brad moved away from his mouth, nipping at his neck, moving down, hands going to his briefs and hooking into the elastic at the top. He cleared it over his rapidly hardening length and Drake lifted his hips up so Brad could work them down and off, mouth on his belly now.

Drake’s back arched and his hand went down to Brad’s head, resting on it as he pressed his tongue to his throbbing member, cool and hot all at the same time. He groaned as he worked his lips around him, the tip at first. His fingers stroked through Brad’s hair – not long enough to hold, but the texture teased his fingers and palm. Brad worked his lips around his cock, taking more and more into his hot mouth, tongue pressing on his shaft. Drake wasn’t afraid of being rough, and pushed to the back of his throat. Brad gagged for a moment then recovered, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock so he wasn’t taking him so deep into his mouth. His lips wrapped tight around him, and Drake’s hips bucked and rocked with his need, oblivious to anything else. Brad’s mouth and hand bobbed along his length and he added his own thrust as his need increased, hips gyrating until he felt it coming…

‘Brad’ he groaned ‘I’m going to – uuunghhh’ With one huge arch of his back he shuddered and came, shooting his seed into Brad’s mouth and felt him swallow until he came away, letting him go with a pop, wiping his lips as Drake lay back. Brad lay beside him, head propped up on his elbow, watching as he came down. He turned to Brad and kissed him again, hand on his cheek, tongue probing, hand snaking to the back of his neck, tasting himself on his lips and on his tongue. He reached down inside Brad’s boxer shorts and wrapped his hand around his length, shorter and thicker than his, still more than average in size. Brad’s eyes closed in bliss and he groaned in appreciation

‘Drake’ he moaned ‘You don’t have to…’

‘Yes I do’ Drake’s voice was deep, sated yet still heavy with desire. ‘It’s just Drake and Brad’ Brad was hard and leaking precum, which Drake spread around the tip with his thumb. He didn’t want to talk Brad to orgasm as he had in the past, because that wold involve using Lucy for inspiration. He was long past feeling guilty for not thinking of her at all when Brad was sucking his cock. It had to just be the two of them this time, so he had to use his mouth. Dammit, he wanted to taste Brad, wanted to trace his tongue along his length, feel him writhe underneath him, he couldn’t deny it.

He pushed Brad flat on the bed roughly, eliciting a groan, and crouched over him to pull at the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down, not caring that he wasn’t gentle, not caring that Brad hadn’t even managed to kick them off before he plunged his mouth onto Brad’s shaft, lips pressed along the length, teeth scraping at his flesh. Brad bucked at the rough treatment, hissing and clenching his fingers into Drake’s hair. He relished the burn of his scalp for a moment before reining back his attention. Part of him wanted to punish Brad for not remembering Lucy, part of him wanted to be tender and attentive, and the harsher side was winning.

For the first time he wondered what it would be like to fuck Brad. He wondered what it would be like to be balls deep, stroking into him and hearing him moan, flood him with his seed until he overflowed. He’d had Lucy use a strap on with him but had denied that he wanted Drake to fuck him – but was that just so he didn’t freak him out? He spat on Brad’s cock and took him into his mouth fiercely, lips wrapped tight around him. Brad was writhing and gasping, and again he was rough, cupping Brad’s balls and massaging – not too hard, he wanted him to come, not push him away. He sucked and used his lips and tongue to stimulate, hearing Brad call out raggedly. He held his hips down as he started to buck – he wanted control, wanted to keep him on the edge, to beg him for release, and that didn’t take long.

‘Please Drake, I need – please…’ he gasped ‘Let me come’ Drake let him thrust into his mouth, but wrapped his hand round the base of his thick cock even though he wasn’t at the back of his throat. He felt Brad shudder, tasted the first bitter rush then took his lips off him, watching the thick white seed spurting, landing on Brads belly then dribbling, dripping from the tip as he spurted again – and again as he pumped him a couple more times. Brad trembled, hand over his forehead, breath slowing.

‘Fuck Drake – have we done that before?’ Drake sat back on his heels looking down at Brad beaded with sweat, hair messy, pupils dark.

‘Yeah we have – once or twice’ He hopped off the bed and went to get a washcloth to clean Brad off.

‘Thanks. I should probably shower’ Brad said. The air was thick with unasked questions and unspoken answers. Drake sat on the bed and listened to the water running. Somehow, as he sometimes did after a good orgasm, he felt clean outside and in, cleansed and purified by the heat of passion despite the sweat and stickiness.

‘Careful, the pressure’s low’ he said loudly, and sat, elbows resting on his knees. They had crossed a line, and he had to tell Lucy what had happened. He still wanted her, loved her, adored her, missed her, but his relationship with Brad was deepening. He already cared for him, but did it go further than brotherly love? He wanted him, wanted to possess him, craved his touch. He thought perhaps Brad already knew it went deep but had either denied it to himself or hidden it from Drake.

Brad came through to the bedroom, towelling himself off, and Drake went to take his turn. Brad came in to sit on the toilet, watching the water cascade over him, towelling his hair dry.

‘Are we okay?’ he asked ‘Did we do anything different?’

‘It’s complicated, but just trust me. You’ll understand more tomorrow, I promise.’ Drake shut the water off and Brad threw him a clean towel. He brushed his teeth and followed Brad into the bedroom. They fell into bed, Brad on his side facing Drake, who lay on his back and pulled Brad into his side. They fell asleep together as the embers of the fire outside cooled and dimmed.

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#Two's Company #driam #driam trr #drake x liam #brad and Drake #polyamory