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fushiguruuzzzz · 2 months ago

Text

V ⊹ ࣪ ˖ For the First Time

Series mlist

Tags — mentions of alcohol and marijuana, Megumi being ominous asl

Words — 1.7k

When the scent of bitter alcohol and the piercing purple light of the LED’s illuminating the bustling frat house hit you, it was clear you’d be in for a long night. No matter how much you denied the allegations from your friends, you were perfectly aware of your rather low tolerance to alcohol. It wasn’t like it was your fault, you just weren’t a drinker! Sure you’d sip on a beverage every once in a while, occasionally take a joint if it was offered to you on nights where your mind was all too busy for the atmosphere. A party just wasn’t your usual scene, so when you did show up… you indulged. In high school, your presence was a telltale sign to pull out their cameras and hope nothing was broken. It was funny in hindsight, but the excruciating headaches and the embarrassment for the days afterwards made it less enjoyable.

Most people had already shown up. There were many of them, scattered all around the different rooms and the expanse of the outdoors. They really went all out, though you doubted it was actually the frat boys who did the decorating. Thank goodness for sorority girls and their liking for jocks. There were faux cobwebs strewn about every corner, table, every nook and cranny. There were ghosts and spiders galore, giving the usually blank, testosterone reeking building an air of festivity.

You glanced to Toge, Yuta, and Maki grouped around you as you made your way to the kitchen. Red solo cups decorated the tables in stacks, inviting you to take a drink. Who were you to resist?

“We should put a GoPro on [name], document all of the stupid shit she’ll do tonight,” Panda interrupted your thoughts, followed by an overly noisy slurp of his drink. Your eyes narrowing in a glare, sneering at him. You would’ve flipped him off, had your hands not been occupied by the bottle of vodka in your hand. You weren’t that hardcore, though, it was being poured in small doses into your cup filled with fruit punch.

“Please, if it happens it’s your fault,” Maki rolled her eyes, pushing past Panda to lean against the wall parallel to the drink table. “You just couldn’t resist the cold takeout in the fridge, huh? Now we’ve all got to deal with Kat Stratford Junior.”

Toge sniggered, his slender hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Maybe he did it on purpose. I didn’t get good enough pictures last time,” he grinned. You made a face at him, rolling your eyes. “Fuck you. All of you,” you said, no actual heat behind your words. Yuta looked at you like a dumbfounded, kicked puppy, to which you grinned and mouthed “not you”. Turning away from them, you grumbled under your breath for a moment, retrieving your phone from your pocket.

“Where’s Yuji?” you muttered. You were sort of looking forward to meeting his friends, especially the girl.

“I’m going to say hi to Yuji, you guys wanna come?” you offered, returning your cell to its rightful place in your jacket. The four just gave subtle actions of decline, the shake of a head or the slight wave of a hand.

“We’ll stick to ourselves for now,” Maki said, eyeing you over the rim of her slender glasses. “We can find you later, though!” Yuta added, that bright smile finding its way on to his face.

You nodded, severing off from the group. You weaved through heaps of sweaty bodies and costumes that showed far too much skin, almost getting knocked over by what looked like Arthur Morgan in a speedo. Suppressing the grimace on your face, you pushed past the doors and scanned the grassy terrain for a familiar head of pink hair.

Spotted. Pink tufts of hair peeking out of a royal blue cap, just across the yard. Luckily most people stuck to the inside of the frat, a closer proximity to the alcohol they were all desperate to get their hands on. It was much more peaceful out here, the gentle chill of the night air stark in contrast to the mugginess of inside, all of the body heat and sweat that you were far too sober to ignore.

You approached the boy, gentle steps leading you right up to him and one other girl. You assumed it was Kugisaki, the girl he’d mentioned was one of his best friends. At least you hoped so, hoped that it was her and not someone Yuji was trying to make a move on.

He turned around, the blurry figure of blue and yellow showing up in his peripheral. He smiled wide upon noticing you, giving a friendly wave and a “Hey!”

“Hi,” you said, giving a polite grin and a little wave, eyeing the orange haired girl by his side. He gently nudged you closer, motioning to her. “This is Nobara, I told you about her,” he said.

She eyed you for a moment, seeming to assess you. She took in your appearance, your energy, your facial expression. She sure stared a lot. Suddenly you wished you’d been dressed as something a little more impressive than Pete the Cat.

“Hi, I’m [name],” you said, letting out a slightly nervous huff of laughter. You considered yourself to be relatively chill around people, not usually the awkward type unless they were, but there was something about her…

Her assessment seemed to end, a less intense look in her eyes as a smile tugged at her lips. “I know. Yuji mentioned you. I… I love your costume,” she said, grinning. Though, it didn’t seem like she was laughing at you, just amused. You couldn’t help but laugh along, even if for just a moment. The air seemed to calm in that moment, though it was short lived for you, much to your obliviousness.

“Did your other friend not show?” you asked, turning to Yuji. Nobara glanced at him, as if she knew something you didn’t. She looked almost… anticipated? He shook his head, glancing around. “No, he’s here… where’d he go?” he thought aloud, glancing around with a perplexed look on his face.

He seemed to spot him, his face lighting up. He jumped up and down comically, waving. “There he is. Fushiguro!”

Your heart fucking sank. Fushiguro? Like… Megumi Fushiguro? You should’ve known. Introvert, history major, grumpy, the convenient way his name was left out of conversations… all of the signs were there, you just hadn’t taken them.

You went stiff as a board, not daring to look behind you as the sound of approaching footsteps rang through your ears. Everything else seemed to drown out. The music, the endless chatter of drunk college kids, everything except for the steady thump of feet against the ground. His shadow approached before he did, the spikes of his hair sticking up in all directions, swaying softly with the breeze that blew by.

“Hey. Who’s-“ he began, but his words caught in his throat. In your peripheral, you saw him turn his head in your direction.

His eyes widened, lips parting. He was fucking blank in the mind, he felt as if the colour had drained from his face. You. It was you, standing in front of him. The person he’d been longing for since he was fifteen, the tear that hung inside his soul forever. Yet now, he had no idea what to say. It was rare that Megumi lost his composure, but he felt as though he didn’t even know what that word meant in that moment.

You swallowed thickly. So he knew who you were, obviously. He did remember you. He was just a little shocked to see a friend from middle school again, right? In the back of your mind, you were half expecting him to get you back for that punch. You—excruciatingly slowly—turned to your side, to the empty space that had been filled by him. “Hi,” you managed to croak out. You finally got a good look at him for what felt like the very first time. He’d matured, obviously, his face more slender and defined. He wore that same spiky hairstyle, had that same look in his eye but… softer. His ears were pierced up, too, as well as his eyebrow. It suited him, it suited him too well. He was a spitting image of his past self, just more mature, more handsome, and less fiery. You were almost getting distracted now, you were sure you were staring. Luckily, Yuji (sort of?) was there to save the day.

He slung an arm around your shoulders, smiling. “This is my friend [name]! I told you about her,” he said, but there was something that lied beneath. A boyish cockiness of sorts. Oh. He knew. He fucking knew.

You hummed, nodding. “Yep. I’ll uh, I’ll be right back, ‘kay? Gonna get a drink.” You waved your empty cup gently in front of Yuji’s face, slithering out of his grasp and back into the frat house. A pair of eyes followed you the whole way in, their heat lingering with you even after disappearing through the door. An all too familiar, yet all too foreign gaze.

The moment you were out of sight, Megumi seemed to snap out of his little daze. He turned back to Yuji and Nobara, and when met with the guilty looks on their faces, Yuji was hit so hard that cartoon birds started circling around his head. He was seeing stars. “What the fuck?!” Megumi gritted, though Yuji couldn’t actually answer, it seemed that Megumi had knocked him stupid. Or rather, stupider.

The drinks went down much easier after that. Soon enough, you were doing beer pong with Yuji while a tense Megumi lingered in the background, along with Nobara who chose to sip on her overly fruity drink and observe. She got drunk on her own terms. The two of you were stumbling around, missing the damn cups every single time, your vision doubling from how much alcohol you’d ingested. It was the only thing that made Megumi’s presence less scary, less… unnerving. Damn, you really were just like your mother. Everything else was a blur, just Yuji and the bright purple lights and the ravenette boy in the corner that you just couldn’t ignore. Maybe a couple more shots and you wouldn’t be afraid. But… what were you afraid of? Him, or what he brought out in you?

Taglist !¡ —

@meowymeowbreow @1l-ynn @kiss-my-asscheeks @missunrise @starrysho @good-mourning0 @gumims @beaniesayshi @mrowwww @luvvmae @megumislovedoll

Wrote ts in one sitting and didn’t proofread icl guys why am I lwk flopping smh its aight chat oh also sorry about the little mother callout thing that sorta uh… slipped!

#jjk #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smau #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro x reader

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lostintransist · 2 months ago

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Guys I saw a fic idea yesterday (I for the life of me cannot find it so if you know who is was please tag them) but the idea was basically that toxic!Ghost and his ex-girlfriend are still in love but she won't be with him because again TOXIC but Ghost keeps showing up to argue with her and then take her to bed.

But anyway my brain went mmmm don't like that let's make it so ex-girlfriend is truly done like calls in a friend with a shotgun to keep Ghost away kind of done.

CW: violence threatened, bad friendship interactions

He knocks like a cop, all force and meaty part of his fist pounding, rattling the door in its frame. You look at your friend. Tears have started to well in her eyes.

"Please," she whispers, "He's right there."

"Absolutely not. You asked me to come over to keep you honest, you want to be done with him. That can't change because he hate fucks like a deity." You point one stern finger at her, brows pulled tight, "You stay here."

The pounding knock comes again as you grab your salt loaded shotgun from the guest bed. Grip firm with your right hand you level the gun as you swing the door open. He had been slamming his fist into again.

Dark pits for eyes meet yours above a dark balaclava. He lifts a single brow with the slightest tilt of his head. He steps across the porch to stand at the stairs.

"Interesting."

His voice doesn't rumble the way you expect it to. It's still deep but not as deep as his frame would suggest.

"She's done. Now leave." You center the shotgun on his chest.

"I'd like to check that," he steps to the side as if to move around you.

Tracking his moment you tsk at him.

"I know you military types have issues with women and authority but I would happily spend a few nights in jail for putting some holes in you."

He takes another step forward. Forcing the barrel up and to the left you fire off a round into the night before centering on his body again. Once your gaze is locked with his you rack the next round into place.

His hands drift up from his sides. No fear is in his eyes, only cool calculation.

"I will be here all night, so don't even try it."

A moment of silence stretches like taffy between you.

"You handle that well." He is referring to the gun.

"I hunt dick, I mean deer for fun." He doesn't miss your intentional word slip.

At some point that you can't determine he decides. Standing tall he drops both hands to his pockets, turns and whistles as he walks back into the dark. You don't move from your guarding position until you hear the throaty roar of a motorcycle fade into the distance.

Stepping inside you close and lock the front door before breaking the gun open to remove the ammo. Your friend comes tearing around the corner crying.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don't know what you did but thank you. I love him but I finally feel free?" She throws her arms around you in a hug you can only half return because one arm is still full.

"You need to move, like by the end of the week. I'll help you get movers scheduled."

She squeezes you hard once before stepping back to wipe her eyes.

"Want some wine while we look at options closer to work?"

"God yes. Let me put this away and I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Time passes, yada yada yada. The friendship changes so that you are hardly speaking when the wedding invitation arrives. But you're free that day and drop it in your calendar.

She hadn't invited you to the ceremony. No big deal, while you missed the friendship she wasn't a great friend after you forced her ex boyfriend to leave her alone. You almost wonder if you are associated with him now in her mind, hence the distance.

You were surprised to find her ex among the crowd at the reception. Clocking him you made a point to avoid him. He caught you though, halfway into your wine taking a breather from the air that had turned muggy under the tent.

"You look good tonight."

Closing your eyes you took a deep breath.

"I look good every night, what's the point?"

He stepped up beside you.

"I'm looking for a -"

"Let me stop you right there," you cut him off. "Micro dosing poison will still kill a person. I've heard, repeatedly, how you are. If you want to have a shot at this conversation? Go the fuck to therapy and work through your issues."

With that you turn and stride inside, dropping your wine off at the bar you make your goodbyes and slip away into the darkness.

He finds you eight months later at a coffee shop. You had been listening to music when the chair across from you slides out and a ghost from the past settles into it. He slides a business card across the table to you.

Moving on headphone you give him your best 'the hell do you want' look.

"That's the contact info for my therapist," he taps twice on the card with a finger. "She has permission to speak to you about how I'm doing."

"And why would I want to do that?" You ask archly.

"Because you're interesting, and interested."

"Am I?"

"My number is on the back," he taps the card one more time before standing and leaving you bewildered and, unfortunately, the teensiest bit interested.

Masterlist

#Dammit this was supposed to be a short idea #well that's all folks #cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader

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whimsicalpolitical · 7 months ago

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kindly requesting a matty fic/blurb with him & reader fully clothed fucking in a dingy stairwell 😁

thank you for your request!! had to write immediately because this is super hot. mdni 18+

This should be disgusting.

The walls are grainy, gray painted wood, same as the outside of the apartment building. You know this because even through your shirt, you can feet it, scratching and snagging at the fabric.

It is stuffy, here in the stairwell, still outside, though sheltered from a muggy summer rain. Matty’s eyes are and glow rather strangely in the dim. You don’t even care about the lightning, not with lips at your throat, burning into your skin in ways you’d dreamed about the whole night.

Ever since Matty has been growing out his curls he got hotter day by day. Today has been especially hard, having to look at him in front of everyone knowing that you can’t drop to your knees.

That’s why you tried to be subtle about touching Matty. Tugging at his hands to make him stay behind until people were gone, to have one last kiss. Begging him to keep kissing you until he pulls away, ‘what are you on about’ he said with a big grin on his face.

You couldn’t possibly tell him in that moment. But the next agonizing hour Matty realized that you were so turned on. Your cheeks flushed, your thighs clenching and you can’t stop staring at him.

That’s how you ended up in here. In the stairwell of a good friend of Matty and you, your back pressed against the wall and Matty hovering over you, his hands roaming over your body.

“Want to tell me why you’ve been giving me ‘fuck me eyes’ the whole evening?” He mumbles, still sucking at your neck.

You shake your head with a giggle, grabbing his neck to find his lips on yours again. His tongue slips through your lips and battles with yours, obviously having the upper hand.

“No?” He asks, pulling back, “s’ a shame, I thought you could use your words f’me.”

He lets his hands begin to wander, mapping the shape of your waist through the material of your dress. “I can give you anything you want, but I need you to open your sweet mouth.”

Matty swoops a hand down around the curve of your ass towards the back of your thigh, the motion smooth and leading to the lift of your leg around his waist. He steps closer still, head bent down to kiss you again as he slowly rocks his hips between your parted thighs, showing you just how horny he is for you as well.

The pressure of his cock against your core even while blocked by layers of clothing makes you want to tear the jeans jacket from his body. Instead, you curl your fingers into the fabric and hold on, lips parted and tongues meeting, following the subtle motion of his length grinding against your cunt.

“Fuck,” you sigh into his mouth, “I’m just so glad you’re letting your hair grow, and your mustache is just,” you groan, licking your lips as your fingers with his hair under his nose. “You’re fucking hot.”

Matty laughs at your reaction, “that’s what’s got you all excited? My hair growth?”

You nod, “I can’t wait to tug at your curls,” you say this so innocently but you both know you mean to tug at his curls when he’s devouring you. The past weeks you had to hold on to the sheets instead of his hair, and it didn’t have the same effect.

“You want to do that, yeah? Want to keep me in place by pulling my hair ‘cause it doesn’t work anymore. Can’t control me anymore, s’that it?”

A whine slips from your lips as he reads you like a book. Your head falls forward, into the crook of his neck, hiding your flushed cheeks.

“I knew it,” his fingers pull at your hair now, your face in front of his as he grabs your chin to make sure you can’t pull away, “filthy girl.”

“Matty,” your voice is barely above a whisper. “Please.”

“What?” He asks, lifting his eyebrows, “want me to do something?”

He doesn’t leave you any room for an answer, his attention back to your neck and your chest, his lips and teeth alike tugging at your skin with a bit of suction or a bite that leaves you whimpering. You don’t think you’d need to see a mirror to know that blooms of color had to be littered across your skin, giggling lightly as he sears another bruise into your flesh with the heat of his mouth.

“Got a thing for hickeys, don’t you?”

“Only from you.”

“That’s right,” he grins, “decided to not be a brat f’ one night tonight?”

You shake your head, “I’m always good.”

“Fuck,” he laughs, “you’re definitely not, even tonight you’re begging me to fuck you in a dirty stairwell. Lucky for you I won’t be real mean.”

His mouth reaches the edge of your dress, nipping at your cleavage before his tongue teases along the line where the fabric meets your skin, wanting to taste more of you.

You’re craving his mouth on the most intimate parts of you, fingers pulling the top of your dress aside to reveal your breast to him completely, so glad you’d chosen a dress that hadn’t required a bra.

“Fucks sake.”

The cuss sounds appraising, further compliments paid to your skin by the stroke of his tongue against your nipple, back arching when his teeth closes around the tender peak. You lock your upraised leg tighter around his waist, holding on without a need for the steadying grip of his hand and he uses the freedom it provided him to cup your breast, head turning to the other, exposed with another urgent tug of your own fingers exposing yourself to him. His hips reared back, just enough to give his other hand space, angling under your skirt to rub you through the damp material of your underwear, lips moving back to yours when he felt how warm and ready you’d become.

“You’re drenched, love.”

He slips his fingers past the waistband of the thin garment, needing to touch you directly, and the groan he lets out is evidence of his approval, his delight to feel how slick your cunt is, digits dragging the wet of you across your clit. It swells beneath his fingers, shudders of growing pleasure making you thrust your hips towards his hand, begging for more until you felt one long digit easing into you.

“You’re really pushing my ego, bet I could slide right inside, without having to prepare you.”

A second finger has you leaning forward to bite into the denim that covers his shoulder, trying to stay quiet for the concern that your moans would echo in the stairwell and lead someone to find out what the two of you were doing.

Even with a slow pump, palm pressing and cradling your clit, you felt close to delirious with pleasure, unable to think of anything else other than how much you want him to give you his cock soon.

You reach for the front of his denim jeans, feeling the cool metal of the chain dangling from his belt against the back of your hand, fingers undoing the buckle with a clumsy urgency. Matty doesn’t stop you, lifting his head from your kiss-marked breasts to look you in the eye as you work his pants open, brows furrowing when you delve beyond the band of his underwear to wrap your fingers around his cock, length twitching against your palm.

“Jesus christ,” he groans throwing his head back, his fingers still pumping in and out of you, “bless you n’ your pretty hand.”

“Matty,” you moan again, feeling as if you’re very close.

Matty feels thick in your hand but he always fills you up so well without discomfort, the way he curves promising so much pleasure once he was deep inside.

You watch his eyes close for a moment when you give his shaft a firm squeeze followed by a slow upward stroke. You feel a small pearl of precum crowning the tip of his length, but it isn’t enough to properly lubricate the touch you desire to give him, leaving you to consider other ways to make him feel good.

“Hm?”

Reaching down for his wrist, you gave a soft tug to ease his fingers away, Matty relenting with a look of confusion and though your core feels so empty with the loss of his touch, the pleasant curling of his digits making you wetter still, you have other things you want him to do. He leads his hand upward, eyes darting from his coated fingers to his mouth.

He flashes you a pleased smirk and makes a slow show of sucking each finger clean one at a time, grin growing wider at the way you shiver in response to his apparent delight. He even licks his lips once he is done, further showcasing just how much he relishes the flavor of you on his tongue.

“Taste so fucking good, darling,” he groans, “why’d you stop though hm? Wanted to make you feel good.”

“You do make me feel good, need you though,” You say, fiddling your hand in his pocket to look for his wallet. “Wanted you the whole night.”

“Bet you did,” he says, helping you by taking the wallet from your hand and pulling a condom out faster than you would’ve done it. “Don’t think I won’t properly fuck you when we get home.”

You shiver, knowing that you’ll try different positions after Matty’s done with eating you out.

“Pull your panties down,” he orders, ripping the condom open and rolling it down his length while your panties rest on your lower thighs.

The touch of his cock brushing against your tender slit had you sighing in relief, eyes closing as Matty pushes in just enough for you to become a puddled mess. His hands are moving to grip your hips just so he can lead you back as he oh so slowly presses himself forward.

“I fucking love your cunt, baby. Always taking me so good, fuck.”

For a little while, all your prior urgency is forgotten, falling to the wayside with the satisfaction of just being so full, of having Matty leaning over you, to trail kiss and bites along your neck and shoulder.

Matty’s hands on your breasts and between your open legs, stroking the tight bud above the gentle thrust of his cock stretching you out just right is rapturous. You want more, faster and harder.

“Matty, please.” You moan, gripping his broad shoulders to signalizes him you want him to fuck you.

“Don’t be a beg,” he teases, but at the same time thrusts inside you harder before moving almost all the way out and slamming back into you. “Want it like this?”

You nod, your hands all over his bag, not knowing where to steady yourself. That is until Matty takes your hand and leads it into his hair.

“C’mon, try it, knock yourself out.”

You tug at his hair and you moan, louder than you’ve ever moaned tonight. You feel his curls growing and you already have something to grip on.

“Pleased?” He asks and you smile into his mouth, softly biting down his bottom lip.

“Very much.”

“Perfect.”

You moan into his mouth as you enjoy the intensity of him spreading you and filling you. You nip playfully at his lips, rolling your hips forward and back, meeting his long, deep, and demanding thrusts.

“Fuck, right there,” you breathe as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

Matty’s hands squeeze your ass, helping you move against him fully. Your wet, smooth walls rub against the hard veins on his cock, and you can feel him begin to lose the rhythm.

“Touch yourself f’me,” he says, both hands of his occupied, one hand holding your leg up while the other steadies himself. “C’mon, love, fingers on your clit, do it like I do it.”

You hear him. You trail your fingers over your sensitive bud, rubbing slow circles until you get faster and closer.

“Matty, I- m’ gonna,” you moan as he hits your spot over and over again.

“Yeah? Look at me, love,” he orders, “cum f’me.”

Your mouth gapes open in a silent gasp. You hold him inside you, your walls gripping his cock, before he can no longer delay his own release inside your warmth. With a final thrust, he clutches you to him and with a loud cry that bounces around you in your concrete oasis, his cock pumps and twitches deep within you.

Your head falls forward against his shoulder, your breathing hard and fast. You feel limp and sated, and can only imagine the effort it was taking him to keep you both upright.

With a tender kiss against his neck, you lower your legs to the ground, but you stay tightly wrapped in his arms. He holds you, your ear pressed to his chest, his racing heart against her cheek.

“I don’t think I can ever walk this stairwell without thinking about this,” you give him a small laugh.

“I would hope so, this was mental,” he says, pulling your panties up again, before removing his condom and pulling his pants up as well.

“D’you want to go home?” Matty asks, removing a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear. You shake your head, appreciating that he leaves the choice up to you.

“Let’s stay, enjoy the people for a while?”

“F’course, anything you want, baby.”

He kisses you before heading towards the door, adapting his walking pace to yours when he notices that you can’t properly walk.

“Maybe we should wait for a bit,” he grins, sitting down. “C’mere.” He opens his arms and you take the invitation and sit down onto his lap, your hands finding its way into his hair again.

You’re lifting a few strands and letting them fall back down, watching how they curl. “Thank you for letting your hair grow.”

Matty laughs and you get a squeeze to your thigh. “Yeah, yeah.”

#the 1975 #matty healy #Matty Healy smut #Matty Healy blurb #matty healy imagine #matty healy x you #the 1975 fic #matty healy oneshot #matty healy x reader #matty healy fluff #ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann

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goldencuffs · 29 days ago

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genuinely that snippet you linked in the latest ask gave me palpitations. the thing that carries me through it all is the fact that you once said damen and laurent will always have a happy ending for you. so yes, while i love meself some good ol angst, im absolutely looking forward to how you resolve that (BECAUSE YOURE SO GOOD AT IT!!! so excited to see what youre grace us with next, idec how long its gonna take ahahah)

omgggggg thank you so much!!!! 🥹❤️😭 i'm the same--as much as i love senseless fluff, nothing gets to me more than a story that's 99% angst and has that satisfying, happy ending 😮‍💨

AND YES while most of this fic is laurent sad and pining and damen being a dick, they do indeed have a very happy ending!!!! it made me cry when i wrote the outline LMAO

i really wish i could post more snippets but besides that opening scene damen and laurent haven't interacted much... yet. here's two seperate scenes just because!

"Look who's here," Coach said. There was the sound of backs being slapped. "Damen smelt your cooking and wanted to come right over. That's a credit to you Laurent."

Laurent didn't look up. "Aimeric cooked most of it."

"That's right, gorgeous, and there's plenty more where that came from. Believe me, I'm very skilled."

Coach laughed, as he did with most things Aimeric said. He didn't even seem bothered that Aimeric was openly flirting with his star player. He seemed charmed, actually, and Laurent's nape prickled. He didn't lift his head, but he did pull out an extra bowl and placemat.

Coach ruffled his hair as he walked past. Laurent threw him a brief smile, tried to make it seem natural, because his whole body was singing with tension.

Damen came close; Laurent smelt him before he saw him. Fresh, clean, woody--it was so familiar, Laurent's heart sped up, a subconscious response.

He looked up. Their eyes met. Laurent's heart kicked into overdrive.

Damen said, "Soup? Seriously? It's a hundred degrees."

And just like that, all his complicated feelings died in his chest. Laurent scowled and put the bowl and mat away.

❤️

So Laurent was surprised when Damen said, "Let's go out for dinner. I'm hungry."

"What?" Laurent said, pushing himself up on his elbows.

It was late; they had only fucked once today because Damen had been in training and Laurent had been in class all day. It wasn't a cool, breezy night like the other day; it was muggy and thick. Laurent's skin stuck to the sheets of Damen's bed.

"Are you fucking deaf?" Damen snapped. He was already dressed and showered, shoving that ugly baseball cap on his head. "Hurry up, you have ten minutes."

Laurent shot up; from experience he knew Damen would make good on his threat and leave him here. He yelped when Damen smacked his bare ass as he rushed past him on the way to the bathroom.

It was the quickest shower of Laurent's life; he had already taken one before he arrived here, so he didn't feel too gross by the time he stepped out again.

He rushed downstairs; Damen was already waiting, impatient, car keys in his hand.

"Can I drive?" Laurent said.

Damen huffed. "Funny."

The Cadillac was a thing of beauty. Laurent had grown up with fast cars his entire life. Coach obviously had a few, but Hennike and Auguste loved them too. Auguste had a Quattroporte. Hennike had had a vintage Aston Martin. When she had died, Laurent had fantasies of driving it for himself, but Coach had promptly sold it.

The Cadillac was special, though. It was rare to see Damen so excited about something, but Laurent remembered long, winter nights where they had huddled in bed together, going over all the specs, handles, and metrics of the car. Laurent learned about analog guages and different cuts of leather and even Bakelite by the time Damen had decided he had wanted to purchase it.

Except, Damen had taken Jokaste to buy the car. He had dumped Laurent three nights before.

Still, that didn't really affect how Laurent felt about the car. It was all sleek wood panelling and fresh, fragrant leather. It was pretty big too; he and Damen had tested that theory early on by fucking in the backseat.

"Don't cross your legs on the seat, for fucks sake," Damen snapped as they backed out of the driveway.

"I took off my shoes," Laurent muttered, already pulling out his phone.

#this is so nonsensical without context i know #but just know damen and laurent loathe each other but can't stay away either hehehehe #ALSO I LOVE YOU!!!!!#what an amazing message #im so grateful you feel that way about my stories omggg!!!#and i know people dont believe me but yes i always always always give a happy ending #otherwise i dont see any point writing it😭#asks

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dutiful-wildcraft · 5 months ago

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I've been watching a lot of I'm on Observation Duty/Spectator playthroughs and I'm feigning for spooky season. Have a little thing~

Just some fluff and humor, not edited 🎃

Price × Plus size OC

Price watches as Ruby prepares for one of her favorite nights. Autumn had slowly replaced the muggy summer heat, shifting the leaves golden and leaving the nights pleasantly crisp.

His sweet girl had been practically buzzing all week, excitedly explaining the history of Game Night. But not just any game night, no, horror game night.

Not played by her or course, but Darren, who excelled far more than she did. It was a past time they'd both had since they were kids and Ruby far preferred to watch the playthroughs rather than struggle with the buttons.

Price can easily imagine it, his sergeant perched in front of an old box television, his baby sister dutifully sat beside him, helping him solve puzzles, cheering him on with the monsters. It was adorable to see her still so excited about it.

She’d laid beside John in bed the days prior, asking about the rest of the 141’s favorite snacks. Should she do beer or soda? Does anyone have allergies? Tapping notes out in her phone like it was her job.

She’d spent the day baking and making goodies. Putting up her little spooky knick knacks and pestering Price into sniffing themed candles. (He’d settled for cinnamon apple, after having a rather befuddled and then hardy laugh over the mashed potato scented candle she’d snuck in his hands).

As the sun set they piled into the living room. A makeshift nest built onto the floor where Gaz and Darren were sat shoulder to shoulder, square in front of the tv. Simon and Johnny piled onto the side couch, the bulk of them barely fitting as the pair practically inhaled the caramel covered popcorn Ruby had made.

John was never one for video games, but having his soft girl beside him and his team laughing? He would spend every night like this.

The game isn't terribly graphic, really more of spooky spot the difference. Something all of them could join in on. Settings of graveyards, rundown hospitals and haunted homes. They're tasked to go through rooms and report any anomalous activity.

Price had anticipated something fairly cheesy, maybe even a little boring. But the game had proven more challenging than any of them truly anticipated. The small group huffing and puffing as they failed again and again to report enough anomolies on time.

I told ye tha’ cup was on the left and the remote on the right!!

I know that pillow wasn’t that color, you think it’d be that subtle?

Quit clickin’ through the rooms so fast!!

The fock they mean we missed an intruder? 🤨

Check all the corners sergeant.

It'd actually become pretty amusing. What had started out as articulate explanations as they bounced from room to room slowly devolved into caveman-esque shouting.

MUG BIG!

LAMP MOVE!

DOOR OPEN?

HEAD IN THE SINK!!!!!

John’s favorite however, was his brave thing slowly but surely scooting closer and closer to him the creepier things became. She'd been determined at first, pillow in her lap, leaning forward, just her knee brushing against his thigh.

The jumpscares had her flinching bodily, slowly sinking back into the couch cushions and hugging the pillow as a soft shield. Squinting at the screen with sour suspicion.

The next scare had her latching onto him. Pillow abandoned in favor of his arm, soft cheek pressed against his bicep.

She's not scared of course, just protecting him from the digital danger. (Obviously).

The rest of the boys took pleasure in making up stories for the various intruders. Truly disturbing ghosts and monsters made silly.

Ah he prolly just forgot his wallet

Yeah, looked like you were havin a hard time shitting yourself mate, thought he'd help out.

Maybe he's just shy?

That's just how Simon hangs out.

…It's true.

A particularly harsh scare had her squealing, pointing frantically at the screen as the speedy intruder barreled toward them on the screen, breathing into the camera with sharp jaws.

Darren naturally took this time to admire it, much to his siblings dismay.

“Report is Darri, report it Darri, report it Darri.”

“Now this is a specimen, you don't get monsters like this every day”

“DARREN”

“Ru, what animal ya reckon this was based off of?”

“It's about to be based off my foot in your ass.” she hisses, face tucked into Price's shoulder, refusing to look any longer.

Price can't help but chuckle at her, pressing a kiss to her hair before shaking her off and curling his arm around her, tucking her snuggly against his side with an appreciative pat.

The rest of the night goes similarly. The team becoming quite good at navigating the anomalies, and instead attempting to scare each other at any opportunity.

Ruby makes the mistake of slipping off into the bathroom down the conveniently long dark hallway.

Only a moment passes as the bathroom door swings open, followed by a loud scottish growl, a frantic gasp, and the dull thud of Ruby's fist connecting with the drywall instead of Soap's skull as he scampers out of the hallway laughing his ass off.

“John Mactavish I will hunt you for sport.” his angel snarls, barreling around the corner after Soap, sore fist clutched in her opposite hand. The rest of the boys giggle furiously.

Price is already out of his chair. A. to hide his own laughter, and B. to fetch the small med kit in case she hurt herself.

“All of you twats” she hisses the word with a faux english accent “better sleep with one eye open.”

She continues her glaring as Price fusses with her hand. A little red, but she'll make it. He presses a bristly kiss to her knuckles, instantly drawing her attention back to him. He preens at how easy it is. Just his touch enough to have her smiling at him.

“Ready for bed?”

Even if she wasn't, she'd go with him regardless.

Price leaves the rest or his men to tidy up as he leads her off to bed. Waits patiently as she does her own little security ritual, double checking the lock and avoiding the mirror on her vanity. She even subtly checks the window, fussing with the curtains to appear nonchalant.

Finally she crawls in beside him, curling against him snuggly and tossing a warm thick thigh over his hips. Clinging to him like a big soft octopus.

He peppers her face in more kisses, easing away the mean pinch between her brows and easing it into something more serene.

As her eyes flutter closed and her breathing evens out he murmurs against her hair.

“I've got an idea on how we can scare the piss out of Soap.”

#Ru is a very brave girl but also mean as shit #Price is just chuffed to be there #and will absolutely use this as a tactic for snuggles in the future #John Price #johnny soap mactavish #cod ocs #wildcraft writes #oc: ruby martin #oc: darren martin #task force 141 #call of duty

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witcher-and-his-bard · 2 years ago

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Love Letters

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): none Rating: general

Fic Summary: Jaskier writes down all his feelings in a letter he never expects Geralt to see - only for Geralt to arrive shortly after, snowed out of Kaer Morhen.

For @jackironsides 💜

My beloved Geralt

Dear Geralt

Geralt, my love

No matter what he writes, it sounds wrong. Too intimate, too casual, too... much in one way or another. Jaskier hasn't even gotten past the introduction and he already wants to give up on the letter. It feels so easy over the summer, when he and Geralt spend long, muggy days walking side-by-side. Jaskier sings and Geralt rides, and occasionally, Geralt will even sing along with whatever he's playing.

Now, in the dark of his room at the academy, those feelings feel dull and distant. Not Jaskier's feelings, of course, but the potential reciprocation. These days, he finds himself thinking about Geralt's relationships with Eskel or Lambert, or even Vesemir. He wonders how different those relationships are to the one he shares with Geralt. Maybe those gentle things Geralt says to him in the comfort of their shared inn rooms are just things Geralt would say to anyone.

Ugh. Jaskier flops backward in his chair, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He wishes there was an easy way to know these things, and for the first time in a long time he finds himself envying Yennefer. She could just read Geralt's mind, she could just know. And Geralt? He can smell emotions or something like that; at least, he always seems to know when Jaskier is upset about something. Maybe he took the wrong path in life. Maybe he should have tried to get into Ban Ard and become a mage. Surely there is some chaos in him, enough, at least, to be able to read minds.

Briefly, Jaskier considers contacting Yen. They've had a better relationship as of late, and she might be able to give him some insight, if nothing else. But he doesn't want to drag her into something that isn't really any of her business. Not because he's afraid to tell her, but because she might not want to know. She's happy now - travelling with Triss and Istredd last he heard - but there might be some leftover feelings there and he doesn't want to bring up Geralt in a romantic setting if he doesn't need to. Plus, he doesn't want to feel like more of a burden than he already does.

Jaskier looks down at the half-started letter in front of him and angrily crumples it up before blowing out the candle and shoving his chair back. He flops forward onto folded arms, looking out into the blue of the night sky, speckled with snow. Normally, he would take comfort in a view like this, but tonight, it just reminds him of how far away Geralt is.

Is it even worth beginning a relationship when they spend so much time apart? Would Geralt even be interested? Even if he was madly in love with Jaskier, would that be enough? What's the point when you have no one to cuddle with and watch the snowfall? But then maybe Geralt would want to visit some winters if they were more.

Gods, he wants that more than he can even properly comprehend. The idea of falling asleep in Geralt's arms feels like the height of romance. Already, Jaskier treasures the moments he falls asleep listening to Geralt's voice, even if he does feel a bit bad about it in the morning. Despite himself, a dopey smile spreads across his face at the thought. He misses Geralt more than he can say while they're apart in the winter. It's only a little into the season and already the long, dark winter feels endless.

Jaskier inhales deeply, sighs, and sits up to write. He's determined to finish this letter, even if it never reaches its intended audience.

Geralt,

I know it's barely been a month since we parted, but I find myself longing again for your company. Teaching is hectic as always, and my students love a tale of your heroism. I know you don't consider yourself a hero, but I do. Though lately, I find myself recalling different moments from our travels. I find myself thinking of the evenings after a contract has been completed and paid. I think back to the ale or tea and the stars hanging low in the sky. The way the firelight flickers on your face. I miss that. I miss the way your hair falls in your face when you take it down to sleep. I miss how stubborn you are about that awful headband. And I regret to tell you now that I've grown... rather fond of it, actually.

Rather rarely do I find myself at a loss for words, but they escape me when I try to nail down all the things I feel for you. I know I am a mere mortal, doomed to die years or even decades before you, but given the chance, I would happily live out the rest of my life at your side. Perhaps even in your arms.

I know love is not a word you use often, but the way I feel it could very well become something so all-encompassing. I can't promise that love is how I feel now. I find myself mixed up in a way I've never felt before. That's not to say that I don't love you, because I do. As a friend, as a companion, as something more. Perhaps one day, even as a lover. Even if you don't feel the same, I want you to know that you are deeply cared for in every way one person can care for another. I don't mind if you don't want to see me again, so long as it is your wish, and one borne out of intention rather than fear. Because although I've never spoken the words, I've longed for you for days and weeks and months and years, silently staying by your side. Perhaps one day you will have me there on purpose - despite, or maybe even because of, my feelings for you.

Until then, I remain yours, as always.

Jaskier.

Jaskier looks over the letter once more and, feeling an uncomfortable swell of emotion, folds it neatly and tucks it into an envelope that just reads Geralt. He's only just finished hiding the evidence when there's a knock at his door.

"Yes?" he asks.

"Sorry to interrupt so late," the voice on the other side of the door says. Jassa, Jaskier thinks, his assistant at the university. "You have a guest."

"A guest?" Jaskier asks, perplexed. Who on earth would brave this weather just to visit? The only guests he normally has are students or his fellow professors, either of whom would just come to his room and knock themselves.

"He says he's a friend. Geralt? I think," Jassa says.

Jaskier's heart somersaults.

"Right," he says, "of course. Send him up. I'll leave the door open."

"Certainly," Jassa smiles. "I'll send him right up. Have a good night, Professor."

"And you," Jaskier finishes, barely aware of what he's saying.

What is Geralt doing here? Of all the years they've known each other, he's never once come to visit over the winter, so why now? Jaskier turns around, leaning on the door, and is struck by the state of his room. For the last two days, he's done nothing but lie around and sulk, and it shows. He absolutely cannot let Geralt see his room like this.

Given he has roughly four minutes, maybe a few more if Geralt stops to talk to Jassa before coming up, it's not going to be easy. So Jaskier starts with the worst of it: the clothes and things laying all over the bed and floor. There is a surprising amount of mess considering Jaskier is the only one residing in the room, but he manages to get the worst of it tidied before the knock at the door. A final glance tells him only the desk and table are still cluttered, but that much is acceptable so he crosses to the door.

As he pulls it open, Jaskier is struck by Geralt's smile. He always is when they haven't seen each other for some time, but this feels more. Maybe it's because he's been considering his own feelings lately, but looking at Geralt, here and in person, makes his legs weak.

"Hi," he says shakily.

Geralt gives him an odd look, but it quickly turns into a half-smile and he steps into the room when Jaskier moves aside.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he says gently, "it's no trouble to find a room at the inn if-"

"Not at all," Jaskier interrupts. "I'd be happy to host you if you're staying.”

"I had hoped to," Geralt says.

"What brings you?" Jaskier asks.

"The route to Kaer Morhen was snowed over by the time we arrived in Kaedwen," he explains, "I thought this might be the best place to stay."

Part of Jaskier is delighted at the thought, though when he considers it further, Oxenfurt is further than any of the other places Geralt would be more than welcome to stay over the winter. There's no good reason for him to have travelled all the way to the coast, when surely Yen would have taken him in without question. Their relationship may not be romantic anymore, but Jaskier knows there is still a deep love between them. And he's happy for it, which makes it all the more confusing why Geralt is here. He thinks to ask, but reconsiders.

"Please," he says, remembering his manners, "make yourself at home. I can have a bath poured if you're tired? Was Roach properly cared for? Shall I call for supper-"

"Jaskier," Geralt says gently, "Roach is fine. A small meal would be nice, but there's no rush. Right now I'd just like to relax."

Of course, Jaskier thinks. He must have been travelling for weeks if he first attempted the path and then had to turn back. Jaskier had left him just north of the Pontar, between the mountain ranges, so that must have been-

"Jaskier?" Geralt asks, cutting off his train of thought. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," Jaskier assures him. "Just wasn't expecting company and I'm not prepared for it- Not that you're not welcome!" he corrects quickly, and with a little too much vigour.

"Perhaps you're the one who needs a rest," Geralt says, half-teasingly.

"Just to get my head on straight," Jaskier assures him. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable and I'll go fetch something warm for you to eat."

Jaskier slips from the room, only stopping one he's far enough away that Geralt won't hear him. He stops and sighs, pressing a hand to his chest as if to stop the mad beating of his heart. Surely Geralt has heard it already and he’s given himself away, but he was hardly expecting to be visited like this out of the blue.

He takes another few calming breaths before continuing on down to the kitchen. He's close with the chef - with most of the staff if he's honest - and has more than once helped him out of a sticky situation with less-than-edible herbs, so his request for a private supper is granted with a smile. In the meantime, Jaskier makes his way back up to the room, holding his breath for a moment before opening the door.

Geralt is standing over the desk in the small room, mumbling quietly. As Jaskier approaches, slipping up behind him, he realizes Geralt is reading the poetry he'd been working on. Jaskier has never been so relieved to know how little Geralt thinks about his poems, as these ones are nearly explicitly about him, the only relief being that his name is not used. Wolf, he uses once or twice, but it's a metaphor and Geralt always says he doesn't care for flowery things like metaphors.

"This is... lovely," Geralt says, though he sounds a bit off as he does.

"Thank you," Jaskier says quietly, slipping around to Geralt's side to see which one he's reading.

"You- your narrator sounds sad."

"Ah, yes. Been a bit of a downer lately, I suppose."

Jaskier tries to laugh it off but Geralt turns to look at him, something like concern in his expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing's wrong," Jaskier assures. "I've just not been feeling myself."

"Can I help?"

Jaskier is taken aback by the blunt suggestion and his head jerks up to meet Geralt's eyes.

"I'm not sure you could, love," he says gently.

"If someone has hurt you-"

"No," Jaskier says quickly.

"You reek of heartache," Geralt says bluntly.

"Right. Well." He considers for a moment before deciding against lying to Geralt. "Unrequited love, I'm afraid."

"How do you know it is?"

"Unrequited?" Jaskier laughs, "oh, my darling, he'd have to be the stupidest man alive not to know. Or perhaps the most oblivious. I'm sure he would have said something if he felt the same."

"You haven't," Geralt counters.

"Right, well- He wouldn't want someone like me, surely."

"Perhaps he feels you think the same of him."

Jaskier had considered that option, but it seems unlikely.

"Either way, it's best just to tell him. I'm sure he'll be flattered if nothing else."

The mere suggestion of it makes Jaskiers stomach turn and he nods slowly. Thankfully, at that moment, supper is delivered to their room and he is spared the thought of confessing his feelings - out loud - to Geralt.

His relief is short-lived as supper is finished shortly, but he makes an excuse about taking the dishes away and dashes out the door with them. Jaskier wants to cry. He can't believe he's gotten himself into a mess like this and he can only hope Geralt doesn't continue to bring it up.

He's so distracted thinking about it that it seems like seconds before he's standing back in front of his door. He hesitates before opening the door, keeping his eyes closed until the last possible moment.

When he opens his eyes, Jaskier's heart jumps into his throat. As Geralt turned to see him, a piece of paper had fallen from his hands and Jaskier can't take his eyes off it. He'd been so preoccupied worrying about the mess when Geralt showed up that he'd forgotten to hide the letter. And it was addressed to Geralt, he had every right to read it, but-

"Jaskier?"

Jaskier scrambles across the floor, reaching for the letter, but Geralt catches his wrist, holding him still.

"Is this just another one of your poems?" he asks quietly.

Jaskier shakes his head. There's no use denying it.

"It's… me. I'm the one you were talking about earlier."

Jaskier half wishes he could fall through the floor and never have to finish this conversation. Sadly, despite how hard he wishes, the floor refuses to open up beneath him. He nods.

"I want to hear you say it."

Jaskier's tongue feels heavy in his mouth but he manages, "I don't know what to say. I don't want to make any big confessions I can't live up to."

"Then how about this?" Geralt says.

He leans in, taking Jaskier's face in his hand, and softly presses their lips together. For a moment, Jaskier forgets to breathe and has trouble believing this is real at all. But when Geralt pulls back again, he's smiling, his cheeks a faint shade of pink. Jaskier's first thought is that it's quite a pretty colour on him before he presses forward and kisses him again.

"Yeah," he breathes, barely pulling away to speak, "I think that's a good start."

#rex writes #i just barely managed to sneak in a fic in January #first one of the year #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher

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tgmsunmontue · 1 year ago

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Controlled Descent

Jake hears the knocking on his door and grumbles, because he’s tired, he’s no longer doing weird all-night shifts, but he’d still done too many hours yesterday and they hadn't even made for a good outcome. He pulls on jeans but doesn’t bother with a shirt, he’s in his own fucking apartment. He pulls the door open and scrubs at his face, taking in the woman standing in front of him, trying to look apologetic and no-nonsense at the same time.

“Yeah. Hi? Can I help you?”

“Hi. I’m Natasha. I'm your new neighbor in 5B. I just wanted to warn you that the guy abseiling down the building isn’t trying to rob anyone.”

Jake blinks.

Blinks again.

“What.”

“Uh, I locked myself out, but the sliding door to the patio is open, so I asked one of my friends to come and –”

“You couldn’t have just called the super?”

“He’s out of state visiting his family…”

“Right.”

“And our patios are joined and just have that weird glass –”

“He couldn’t have just climbed over that?”

“I… you know I hadn’t thought of that. To be honest, he kind of likes doing slightly weird and dangerous shit.”

“Well, okay. Thanks for letting me know. Maybe we can exchange spare keys – these self-closing and locking doors are a fucking menace.”

“Uh…”

Jake realizes he’s just asked a woman for a key to her apartment and he shakes his head. Fuck that shit.

“How about you get spares made and give them to your friends. If you think this is going to be a regular occurrence. Better than one of them abseiling down the building each time…?”

“Yeah. Could we just go out and check on his progress?”

“Oh. He’s doing it now?”

“Yeah, he’s on the tenth floor. Won’t take him long.”

Jake motions for her to enter and they walk to the patio and he slides the door open, warm muggy air feeling oppressive like a luke-warm bath but somehow dry at the same time. He looks up and there is indeed a guy abseiling down from above and… Arms. Ass. Shoulders.

“Damn he’s hot…”

Natasha snorts, flicks him a quick look and Jake flushes, because he’s just met his neighbor and now he’s making comments…

“His name’s Bradley and he is currently single…”

Jake blinks.

Blinks again.

“What.”

“Just giving you information you might want…”

Jake feels wrongfooted and wonders if the sleep deprivation is finally getting to him.

“Tasha? You good?”

Jake looks up at the new voice and the guy is even more attractive up close and he’s looking at Jake with an eyebrow raised and he suddenly realizes he’s shirtless. He’d probably have done that on purpose if he’d known an attractive guy was going to be rappelling down the building and almost literally dropping into his life.

“I’m fine. You going to actually go and let me into my apartment?”

“Yeah, of course. Just…”

Jake watches as he lowers himself further to the edge of the balcony, hoisting the trailing rope and tying it to the metal railing before then fully lowering himself to the patio and releasing himself from several clasps. His fingers are long and clearly competent and he forces himself to look away as Bradley heads off inside.

“What’s your name? Because he’s going to ask me and it’s going to seem rude that we didn’t introduce ourselves properly.”

“Jake. My name’s Jake.”

“Great. Well, he already knows where you live, so I’ll be sure to pass that name on.”

"Okay... I look forward to... hearing from him?"

She snorts again and he's pretty sure it's even accompanied by an eyeroll this time, but she's smiling and leaving his apartment so... things are looking up.

#Hangster #meet cute #my sister-in-law was telling me about the time someone did this in her apartment building

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timotey · 11 months ago

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Ficlet: Needless Loss, Needless Pain

The Sign. Phaya/Tharn. Post-drama (theatrical release). Unbeta'd.

They might not have needed to end up enemies.

(I know, I know, I already wrote a similar ficlet, Hollow Victories, but now that the drama ended, I decided to give it another go and write a canon compliant ficlet. Tadaaaa!)

*.*.*

That night, the night following the day when Tharn comes back to him, Phaya wakes up from a nightmare - and to his empty arms. Tharn’s not there.

He sits up, heart hammering hard in his chest, and he’s looking around, searching for Tharn, because Tharn can’t be gone again, he just can’t be, he can’t be–

Then Phaya sees him, Tharn, on the other side of the bed, curled up and asleep, covers kicked off. He must’ve felt too hot in this muggy weather threatening rain, so he rolled away from Phaya and now he’s lying there just in his boxer shorts and Phaya’s undershirt, sleeping soundly.

Phaya’s heart could leap out of his chest! He’s so relieved, so relieved, so relieved that he actually feels like crying. His eyes burn and his nose burns and he’s all choked up and he wants to-he wants to pull Tharn into his arms and kiss him and make sure that he’s really there, really, really there.

But he doesn’t do it. He lets Tharn sleep. Because he remembers how exhausted Tharn was when they finally climbed into their bed after all the welcoming kisses and hugs and explanations that were no explanations at all because how can you explain something like that, a world full of wonder and magic.

And so Phaya lets Tharn sleep and climbs out of the bed, because he can’t go back to sleep, he can’t lie still, his heart is galloping too fast for that, his hands are shaking too hard, he feels jittery and completely out of sorts. He grabs a package of cigarettes, a bad habit he picked up once more during the past year of loneliness, and heads for the door. Walking out into the main room, he shakes one cigarette out and… stops.

Because he doesn’t need this, not anymore, this crutch. Because he has Tharn back. It feels unreal but it’s true. He turns back to look at Tharn through the open door. He simply looks. He can’t tear his eyes away, his chest is filled with Tharn, just with him.

He drops the cigarette back into the pack and crumples it, leaning against the door frame with a little smile to soak in the sight of his lover back where he belongs.

But then, suddenly, there’s the softest of sounds, a shiver of magic, and Phaya straightens up and twists around fast, heart in his throat. Because there’s Chalothon, there in the middle of the main room, materializing out of nothing and headed his way.

Phaya steps forward, blocking the doorway, intent on doing all he can to to stop the man, to prevent him from getting closer to Tharn, to–

“I’m not here to take him away,” Chalothon says quietly, staring past him at the sleeping Tharn. “I just wanted to make sure one last time that he’s happy here.”

Phaya is so tense he’s shaking. He doesn’t trust Chalothon, he doesn’t want him anywhere near Tharn, he wants him gone forever, as far from them as possible. And yet... He remembers Chalothon’s soul in the palm of Tharn’s hand, the thing that saved his lover’s life.

Swallowing hard, Phaya decides to take a leap of faith.

He moves aside a little, turning around to look at Tharn, too. They’re now standing in the doorway, side by side, sworn enemies loving one and the same person, watching him sleep.

Phaya clears his throat quietly. “He told me,” he whispers. “About what you did. That you gave him your soul to save him.”

Chalothon nods. “Eventually, yes.”

Phaya looks at him. Chalothon is staring at Tharn with a look of such intensity that it sends a shiver down Phaya’s spine. “Eventually?” he asks.

“Yes. A Naga soul doesn’t heal, it just fixes. It’s like duct taping a crack,” Chalothon explains. “If I took it back right now, his wound would come back and kill him. It’s not healed, it’s just... removed.”

Phaya’s heart skips a beat. “But you won’t, right? Take your soul back.”

Chalothon throws him an annoyed look. “I wouldn’t have given it to him in the first place if I planned on doing something like that. You know, as a Garuda you weren’t this dense,” he comments snidely.

Phaya lets it go, though. He has bigger worries. “But he will be okay, right? Tharn will?”

“Yes. He will live out his human life as was preordained,” Chalothon said, looking back at Tharn again.

Phaya feels so relieved that his knees turn weak and he has to lean against the door frame.

For a long moment, they are silent, just watching Tharn. Who sighs and turns in his sleep, scooting closer to where Phaya was resting before.

Maybe Phaya should let it be, maybe he shouldn’t ask, let sleeping dogs lie, but… he wants to know. He needs to understand. And so he does ask, “Why did you do it? Why did you let Tharn go? And send him to me?”

Chalothon is quiet for so long that Phaya thinks he won’t answer. But then he does.

“Like I told you, I gave him my soul - eventually,” he says. “First, I tried all I could to actually heal him. I don’t know if it was because of my powers, because of my weapon of choice or because of the place where it happened, but it just wouldn't work. Nothing worked. It took… a while. And it wasn’t painless.”

Phaya’s throat closes off and he has to blink hard. He still vividly remembers Tharn’s weight in his arms, the crimson on his lips, his torn body. Of course it hurt. Of course, of course, of course.

Chalothon's next words steal the breath from his lungs.

“He asked me to let him go, to just let him die,” Chalothon whispers. “That’s when I realized I couldn’t win. I could force him to stay with me, I could kill him if I wanted to but I could never make him love me. That’s when I gave him my soul and fixed him. I thought he would immediately leave but he stayed. I was weakened and he could’ve run but he stayed. And took care of me. Because despite everything, after everything, he still doesn't hate me. He doesn't love me, not like he loves you, but he holds... affection for me. Still.”

One part of Phaya is angry. Because he was left suffering for months, longer than he needed to. Because Tharn could’ve come back much sooner. Because… because he wasn’t the only one on Tharn’s mind, in Tharn's heart, he admits to himself, letting go of some of his anger. He has to because if Tharn acted differently, he wouldn't be Tharn.

Please stop killing each other. I’m begging you both one last time.

Wansarut loved Sakuna but she held a deep respect and much affection for her Lord Chalothon. And Tharn loved Phaya but he was still very fond of his Doctor Chalothon. Phaya has no doubt that if Tharn were forced to choose between them, with no coercion, he would choose Phaya, always - but this time, he didn't have to. He didn’t have to choose and he could finally resolve the animosity between Sakuna - Phaya! - and Chalothon peacefully, just like he wanted since the very beginning.

Something deep in Phaya relaxes, something that he didn’t even realize was wound up tight, had been for lifetimes now. He looks at Chalothon. “Thank you for saving him. And... I’m sorry,” he says, his voice serious and honest, and when Chalothon turns to him, startled, he continues. “I’m sorry about how we met, at the beginning of it all. That we always only fought instead of talking like Wansarut wanted. We probably never would’ve become friends, true, but we might not have needed to end up enemies.”

Chalothon stares at him for a long while, then he inclines his head in acceptance.

Taking one last look at Tharn, a long and longing one, Chalothon says, already disappearing in a whirlwind of green and black magic, “Take good care of him, Phaya, he’s precious… she’s always been.”

And then he’s gone and Phaya is standing in the doorway of their bedroom alone, feeling strangely hollow, as if too much was lost for nothing, as if too much pain was caused for nothing.

Then Tharn sighs and reaches out with his hand, casting about for Phaya and frowning a little in his sleep when he finds nothing but an empty bed. He makes a soft, unhappy noise deep in his throat - and Phaya smiles.

He pads towards their bed, dropping the crumpled cigarette pack on the bedside table, and slips between the sheets, taking Tharn’s hand in his and kissing his fingers. Tharn’s brows immediately smooth out and he snuggles close, resting his head on Phaya’s shoulder, inserting his leg between Phaya’s, making himself comfortable and letting out a little sigh of contentment.

Phaya’s smile widens. “Better?” he asks very quietly, wrapping one arm around Tharn’s shoulders and pulling him even closer. When Tharn just murmurs something unintelligible in reply, Phaya kisses his forehead tenderly, resting their locked hands against his heart.

“Sleep well,” Phaya whispers. And then sleeps too.

#the sign #the sign the series #my fics #my the sign fics #mé

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basalting · 30 minutes ago

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it takes a village

we did it!!!!! its technically just past midnight where i live but its still the 12th somewhere right (laughs nervously)

day seven of @jasontoddweek2025 - return - outsider POV - crime alley

jason todd & crime alley - threatened sexual assault (no assault occurs), threatened violence against children (no children are harmed) - 3826 words

No one is happy when Red Hood rolls into town.

He’s loud and flashy, he’s dumping heads at the police station and chasing Black Masks boys around. Just another asshole, mucking around in the mess of Crime Alley. It’s just another playground for men like him.

So people keep their heads down, prepare to weather the storm his ambitions bring.

———

Katherine is cursing her life and the subway and fucking professor fucking Morrisen when she carefully walks out of the station. The sun had long since set and her cheap, shitty apartment was a 20 minute long walk in the dark on a Friday night.

Fuck Elias Morrisen and his fucking essay, she thought, if I get stabbed because he wanted to bitch about my homework I’m going to kill him.

Katherine set her shoulders, slotted her keys between her knuckles and set off.

Head down, eyes forward, don’t look or react or stop. Just keep walking until you get where you’re going.

The muggy are was almost oppressive, hanging over her like a shroud as she hurried along. It was just early enough that the first round of rowdy drunks hadn’t been kicked out of bars yet, aside from a few catcalls she’d been ignored.

“What’re you doin’ out late honey?”

Shit. Katherine dared a glance, lurking down an alley were a group of men. As she watched one of them lit a smoke, the flare of the lighter threw the black and white coin emblem on his shirt into view. Two Face’s Halfpenny Boys, Katherine looked away, kept walking.

Mutters burst out behind her as she hurried away, “Hey!” It was the same voice, “I was talkin’ to ya bitch! Where you going so fast? Got some other John to get to?”

The men burst into laughter, she could hear them moving. Getting closer.

She grit her teeth, if there was- Was a store or something. A 7/11, maybe? She could hide out there, at least be somewhere with cameras. Fist clenched tightly around her keys, Katherine sped up - not quite jogging, hoping desperately for something. Why couldn’t she remember where the nearest store was? She’d been at the apartment for months.

“Got somewhere to be huh? Why don’t you wanna have a chat with us? We’re real nice right bo-“

The man behind her stopped abruptly as Katherine slammed into someone. Carefully she looked up, Big. She thought, the man was tall and broad - easily large enough to engulf her entirely. And he was wearing a featureless red helmet.

Red Hood. Fuck.

“H-Hey Hood,” The man called out, “You wanna hang with us?” His voice growing stronger as Hood stood, patiently maybe? The helmet hid his expressions, Katherine tried to force her breathing steady, hoping against hope she could get out of this. “We were gonna have some fun tonight.”

“You with these idiots?”

“W-What?”

“You with them?” Red Hood jerked his chin towards the men behind her, his fists clenched in his gloves, the leather creaking.

Resigned, Katherine shook her head, “No. I’m trying to get home.” The chances of Red Hood doing anything about the Halfpenny boys was low, but there had to of been at least six of them. At least if she went with Hood instead it’d only be him, “I can-“

Red Hood flowed past her, ducking around her smoothly without touching her, and punched the first man in the gut.

“Hey! What the fuc-“

Then he pulled out a handgun, shooting the downed man in the gut. Everyone froze.

“I don’t like it. When little fucks like you, bother nice girls just trying to get home.” Something about his helmet distorted his voice, turned it flat and dangerous. The Halfpenny boys had gone pale and their buddy on the ground was whimpering in pain. Hood pointed the gun at the downed mans head, “Now you can either pick up your trash and get the fuck outta Crime Alley, or I shoot this stupid fuck in the head and then start hunting the rest of you down. I’ll send you back to Two Face in pieces, divisions of two even, cause I’m a nice guy like that.”

“Y-You got it man. We’ll- We’ll go! We promise.” Stuttering apologies a couple of the guys crept forward, hauled their buddy up which made him scream in pain, and dragged him away. Maybe to a clinic, more likely to go bleed out in a gutter somewhere. Katherine let out a shaky breath as Red Hood turned back to her.

She didn’t know what he’d want from her, why he’d stepped in at all. Most people wouldn’t of, those men had been packing heat. He didn’t come any closer, just tucked the, still loaded, gun into the holster almost hidden by his jacket.

“Sorry about that.”

It would’ve been absurdly casual from anyone else, the helmet and distorter made it intimidating. “’S fine.” She said quickly, “Can I… Go?”

Hood nodded, body language open and casual, almost non-threatening. Which was wild to see from a guy who’d just (probably) mortally wounded someone and threatened another five.

“You get home safe miss.”

Miss. She thought dazed, A gangster just called me ‘miss.’

“Sure, uh, thanks Mr Hood. For the save.”

Before he could do anything else weird, or before he could reveal he’d been lulling her into a false sense of security and threaten to shoot her too. Katherine hurried away, her roommates were not going to believe her about this shit.

———

Alicia Montgomery had lived through the evolution of Park Row to Crime Alley, had seen the hookers and gangsters and dirty cops. The way all those fancy politicians had turned away from Park Row as if they would all stop existing if they kept their eyes closed. Well Alicia Montgomery kept her damn eyes open.

She’d walked these streets since she was a little girl, met her Peter here - fool of a man who fell and damn near broke his ankle in front of her. When she’d asked him if he was alright, he’d just stared at her, then told her he’d tripped falling for her. They’d skipped school to sit on a fire escape, just talking for hours. She’d loved that man every day of her damn life, married him and raised three beautiful children with him and buried him too young.

Park Row had done it’s damnedest to chew her up and spit her out, but Alicia was Gotham born and bred and she wasn’t an easy woman to push around. She’d seen the strange and the explainable and the frankly bizarre. But it was still something to look up from where she was sitting on her front stoop to see what’d scared her pigeons away, and see the newest in the line of thugs looking to rule Park Row across the street with some of his Red Hood gang members picking up trash.

For a long moment Alicia just blinked at them, but there they were, bold as brass and all. Red Hood in his stupid helmet with a black plastic bag and a bright yellow sharps container on his belt. Picking up trash.

Something, morbid curiosity maybe, made her slowly rise up. The birds she fed had flown off anyway and she’d been almost out of food for today anyway, it might not hurt, to take a closer look.

The streets and alleys of Park Row were always filled with trash, if any of those costumed idiots wanted to steal a garbage truck without it being noticed than they’d inevitably end up taking one of the few that still went to Park Row. Most people knew they either had to haul their trash to the dumpsters behind stores, which had a better chance of being picked up, or if you had a car, take it to the dump yourself. A lot of people chose to do neither and just dumped their trash wherever they liked.

A couple of Hood’s people stiffened as she approached, it was almost flattering, that they thought an old woman like her would be able to do anything to a man with Red Hood build. But well, you didn’t need to be strong to use a gun, she supposed.

A short woman with a burn scar twisting the skin of her jaw and neck narrowed her eyes, muttered something to Red Hood and he turned to her. His red helmet was smooth and featureless, no indication of any facial features and nothing to show that he could hear or see her.

“What are you doing?” A few of Hood’s people jerked when she spoke, at least three people dropped their hands to some sort of concealed weapon. Alicia kept her eyes on Hood’s helmet, waited to see how he’d react.

Hood raised a hand, motioned for the others to go. With a ripple of grumbling they spread out, snapping on gloves and shaking out garbage bags. The burned woman stayed close, stepping back to lean against a wall pretending to be absorbed in her phone. Alicia had no doubt that if she made any moves the woman didn’t like, she’d end up with a bullet in the head. There’d been a lot of gang leaders in Park Row, in Gotham as a whole, and none of them had ever done something like this, not even when they were pretending to be on the straight and narrow.

What was Red Hood up to?

“We’re cleaning up,” Red Hood said, his helmet turned his words strange and robotic, aesthetic or necessity? Alicia wondered. “This is the second block, we’ll haul all this shit to the dump. Get it a little cleaner for everyone.”

Alicia hummed, looked up at him in his fancy gear with his fancy helmet and his robot voice. “None of the gang leaders before have cared about the trash before,” She said, more statement than accusation. “What do you get outta cleaning up?”

Hood’s head tilted, weak sunlight making the smooth, glass like surface of his helmet glow, “I live here too ma'am.”

Simple, humble, ‘I live here too.’

Alicia was too Gotham to believe in faith, to trust anyone so easily. But there was something about this boy, and he had to be a boy her intuition screamed it to her, she could see why the burned lady was so protective. She smiled, reached out slowly to gently pat his muscled forearm,.

“Well then, gimme a minute to get into some working clothes and I’ll come help you young folk out.”

Hood jolted, “You don’t have to, we’ve got it handled. We can-“

“Young man.” Her voice was firm, “I do have to, after all,” She squeezed his wrist gently, “I live here too.”

Then she turned and hurried across the street, it could still be a scheme, a ploy of some kind. But for today the Red Hood was here, cleaning Park Row up in a way no gangster or vigilante or politician had bothered to do since she was a little girl. And she’d be damned if she didn’t lend a hand.

———

Ye-jun was late, his beloved daughter Ha-eun had woken up with an ear ache. Which meant she woke up screaming and crying inconsolably, she’d fought him with all her two-year-old might when he forced the drops into her ears. Even now, almost 40 minutes later, she was letting out soft hiccuping sobs into his chest as he rushed down the street to work.

Her daycare wouldn’t take her until she had a doctors note proving she wasn’t sick and even if they would’ve taken her, the daycare was on the other side of the Bowery. He’d be almost 3 hours late for work if he took her at this time.

“Appa,” Ha-eun whimpered as a car honked furiously, her little hand coming up to hover over her sore ear. “It’s loud.”

“I know baby,” He murmured, pressing a quick kiss to her hair as he waited for the light to change. “We’re almost at Daddy’s work, you can have a nap in the office okay?”

Ha-eun sighed deeply, sunk heavier into his arms. Not for the first time since he’d woken to a screaming toddler, Ye-jun missed Val. Also not for the first time, he cursed the thief that had decided the change from her register was unsatisfactory, and made Valerie pay for it with her life. Don’t think about it. He told himself firmly, Just focus on getting through the day. Ha-eun needs you.

“Sorry I’m late,” Ye-jun called out, cradling the back of Ha-eun’s head as he rushed into the small office at the ship yard.

“Gene!” Joel yelled happily, Ye-jun forced down a wince. Joel had hired him years ago and, after Val, had told him to bring Ha-eun to work whenever. It was worth having their names butchered to keep this job, a lot of people had it a lot worse than him. “How’s little Hay-yoon, huh?”

Joel roared with laughter, making Ha-eun start to whimper. Ye-jun needed Joel to leave, Ha-eun was already overstimulated. The last thing any of them needed was for her to throw a tantrum and scream the whole office down around their heads.

“Still got an ear ache,” Ye-jun winced with a fake laugh, bouncing her gently in his aching arms. “She’ll probably go down for a nap soon so I can get the arrivals all logged before she wakes up.”

“No rush, no rush.” Even attempting to be quiet Joel was uncomfortably loud, but Ye-jun appreciated the effort. “I’ll get outta your hair and let you handle all… that.”

Joel shot the clunky computer Ye-jun used for work an almost frightened look, technologically inclined, Joel Watson was not. And then finally, finally the office door closed behind him and it was just Ye-jun and Ha-eun and the old ceiling fan that clicked with every spin.

Ye-jun turned on the computer and then focused on getting Ha-eun set up while it loaded everything. From his duffel bag he pulled out some snacks, her water bottle, several colouring books and Chi-chi - her bright red Clifford the dog plushie.

Hidden behind his desk was a small bean bag and bookshelf, the top three shelves had Ye-jun’s work supplies. Folders of approved shipping accounts, meticulous notes of containers received and departure times and a copy of every law, mandate and advisory the Gotham City council had released regarding the ports for the last 8 years, ready to be referenced.

This job wasn’t glamorous, wasn’t exciting or even very challenging outside of the sheer volume of work he had to do, but it kept his daughter with a roof over her head and food in her belly and that was all he could bring himself to care about.

Hours later Ye-jun rubbed his aching eyes, so far he’d managed to avoid the Asian stereotype of needing glasses but the strain of squinting at ship numbers on a database was making him feel like he’d need them sooner rather than later.

Ha-eun was sleeping, worn out from playing and colouring, tucked into a the gap he’d made between the wall and an old filing cabinet. He’d brought a spare quilt and pillow from the apartment and Ha-eun delighted in making a little nest for herself and Chi-chi. He was just considering getting up for a stretch and checking on her when the office door slammed open, Ye-jun flinched back, staring at the broad figure in the doorway. Dark pants, brown leather jacket, and a bright. Red. Helmet.

“Red Hood…”

“And I don’t even need an introduction.”

The man’s voice was harsh, robotic; that featureless helmet tilted. Beneath it, he must of been looking around the room. Please, Ye-jun thought, Please Ha-eun stay asleep. Please, please, please don’t be noticed.

“What- What do you want?” His voice shook, Ye-jun kept himself stiff. He couldn’t look towards where Ha-eun was sleeping, had to hope Red Hood wouldn’t notice the bean bag.

“I need information on a shipment Eugene, and since our friend Mr Watson wasn’t very helpful for me, I’ve come to you.” Red Hood put a hand on his hip, showing off the holstered gun. “Think you can help me Eugene?”

Licking his lips, Ye-jun stuttered out, “Wh-What shipment are you…?”

“Some asshole looking to stir the pot shipped a fuck ton of fear toxin tainted drugs into Gotham from this ship yard, and I need to know who Eugene.”

“What?” Fear toxin filled drugs? Jesus, things were bad enough when Scarecrow got out. The thought of people high and driven out of their minds with fear made him shiver. “I- I have shipping manifests but. It’s not like they just put drugs on the damn things when they fill them out!”

In a swift, almost too fast to catch movement, Red Hood had the pistol aimed at his head. The words died in Ye-jun’s throat, Red Hood’s voice was a low growl when he spoke. “Someone in this stupid little shipping yard has the info I need, so you can either give me what you have… Or I take it.”

If he kills you, what will happen to Ha-eun? Ye-jun thought, Val was an orphan and Umma and Appa are on the other side of the fucking country. If you die, she’ll be alone.

Despite himself, despite knowing he shouldn’t, Ye-jun’s eyes darted to the hollow where Ha-eun was sleeping. Red Hood spun on his heel, stalked towards the file cabinets.

“Wait!” Ye-jun gasped, terror a living thing - clawing up his throat. “I can- I can show you my files. It’s on the computer!”

He flung himself forward, clipping the corner of the desk with his hip. The pain was faint, drowned under desperation. Red Hood hadn’t even twitched, gloved hand reaching for the filing cabinet as the other hand swung up to point the gun at him again. The top drawer of the cabinet was ripped open with a screech, Ye-jun stepped closer - ignoring the gun.

And Ha-eun lurched up from her nest, hair messy and eyes mostly closed.

“Appa,” She groaned, “Ear hurts.”

Red Hood froze, helmet tilted down to where Ha-eun was rubbing her face with her fists, one of Chi-chi’s ears clenched in her hand. “Please,” Ye-jun whispered, “Please, please don’t hurt her.”

Ha-eun looked up at Red Hood’s looming figure, squinted at his bright red helmet, looked down to squint at Chi-chi’s bright red fur. Held Chi-chi up.

“Chi-chi?”

“What.” Red Hood growled.

“Chi-chi.” Ha-eun said firmly, awkwardly climbing out of the blankets. Ye-jun snatched her up, tucking her into his side as she whined to get down, watching Red Hood carefully.

“I don’t know anything about any drugs,” He said quickly, “Check my computer and the logs, I just review footage and confirm arrivals and departures. I don’t know anything.”

Red Hood kept his helmet turned towards them, Ha-eun squirmed, grunting with the effort of trying to get out of his arms.

“Sit down,” Red Hood’s voice was still harsh and robotic but the knife edge of violence in his body language was gone. “I don’t hurt kids Eugene, I’ll find what I need and go.”

Slowly, Ye-jun backed up, sinking down into his desk chair again. He kept an eye on Red Hood, even as the man seemingly dismissed them and focused on a file he’d just pulled out.

“Appa,” Ha-eun said, voice rising into a whine as she tugged on her red ear, “Hurts.”

“I know baby,” He whispered, dragging over the bag, “I’ll give you your drops.”

Ha-eun lent into his chest with a huff, letting him stroke back her hair while he carefully squeezed out the medicated drops. On the other side of the room, Red Hood didn’t react to any of the noises, just dropped the file on top of the cabinet and pulled out another one. Ha-eun smacked Chi-chi into his chest, “Chi-chi too.”

“Is Chi-chi’s ear sore too?”

“Uh-huh,” Ha-eun nodded, kicking her legs, “Extra, extra sore.”

Under her watchful eyes, Ye-jun put the capped bottle of drops in Chi-chi’s ears, Ha-eun pulled the plush in close running her hands over it’s fur. Then she pointed at Red Hood, “Big Chi-chi too, Appa.”

He choked, lashing out to grab Ha-eun’s arm to pull it down before Red Hood noticed.

“Why,” Ye-jun tensed but Red Hood’s head was angled down, looking at Ha-eun, “Why am I Chi-chi too?”

“Cause you’re red.” She said it like it was obvious, brandishing Chi-chi to Red Hood’s helmet.

“Guess you’re right.”

The silence was almost… Awkward, as Red Hood blatantly stuffed the three folders into a bag he’d kept tucked close to his side. “It- The name on these files is Ye-jun,” He felt a small burst of surprise at the clear pronunciation, despite the robotic voice filter. “Is that-?”

“It’s my name,” Ye-jun said cautiously, “Joel just thinks it’s easier to call me Gene so…” He almost wanted to shrug, almost wanted to laugh. Why would a crime lord care about a small time ship yard admin worker having his name mispronounced?

Red Hood grunted, the sound turned strange by his voice filter, and shoved the filing cabinet drawer closed.

“Anyway,” Red Hood nodded at them both, stomping towards the door, “Thanks Ye-jun, sorry about-“ He waved a hand, gesturing at the office in general, “I believe you that you’re not involved with this, if you aren’t - you shouldn’t see me again. If you are,” Red Hood casually rested a hand on the holstered gun, “you will.”

With that the man stomped out the door, Ye-jun followed him to the door, less out of politeness and more to make sure he actually left. The entire afternoon felt insane, he wasn’t entirely sure why they hadn’t been killed. What kind of crime lord apologised for getting someone’s name wrong?

“Bye Chi-chi!” Ha-eun yelled, waving and flinging Chi-chi around as she did so. Red Hood hesitated and then, almost awkwardly, waved back before disappearing around a corner. Ye-jun slumped back against the door frame, weak kneed with relief.

“You’re an angel,” He whispered to Ha-eun, pressing kisses to her cheeks, “And Umma is definitely watching over you.”

Ha-eun giggled, pressed a big, slobbery kiss to his cheek and then beamed. “I like big Chi-chi, can he come tomorrow too?”

“Um, no. Sorry baby, b-big Chi-chi,” Ye-jun choked slightly at calling a fucking crime lord ‘big Chi-chi,’ “Is too busy to come tomorrow.”

“Oh.” She frowned, “Can I draw him a picture? For when he comes back?”

Ye-jun sighed, surrendered and said “Yeah baby, you can draw big Chi-chi a picture.”

Still alive, cradling his still alive daughter, Ye-jun went back to pack up his bag. Fuck work, they were going home.

#please keep in mind jason is like 19-20 in this #please imagine freshly back in gotham 19-20 year old jason todd having a child call him the same name as their favourite toy #jason todd week 2025 #jason todd #basalt fic #fun fact the word count for this week was over 13k! woah!!!!

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zeneveiva · 14 days ago

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Egalan vivon chapter twelve

The night was strangely quiet, like the rainforest was holding its breath. The air was thick with humidity, the only sound the crickets chirping in the undergrowth.

The group had found a small clearing to make camp. The waterfall was nearby, the constant sound of the falling water acting as a sort of white noise, lulling them into a false sense of safety.

Ipo and Hermes were on watch, their eyes scanning the surrounding trees. The others were trying to get some sleep in the muggy night air.

Mira stood near the edge of the camp, her eyes straining to see through the trees, her hand hovering over the grip of her dagger. She couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off, that they weren't as alone as they thought.

"Mira," Zola's voice comes quietly from the darkness. "You should get some sleep. You've been on watch for hours."

Mira glances over at Zola, her face drawn and tired. "I can't," she mutters. "Something feels off. I can't explain it."

Zola steps forward, resting a hand on Mira's tense shoulder. "I know you're worried," she says, her voice soft and reassuring. "But we've got a long day ahead tomorrow. You need to rest."

"Maybe you're right..." Mira sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. Despite her protest, she knows she can't keep running on pure adrenaline and worry for much longer.

"Come on." Zola urges her over to where the others are sleeping. Some of them are curled up together, while others are just lying on the ground. In the dim light, they look almost like children again, and the sight tugs at Mira's heartstrings.

"Try to get some sleep," Zola whispers, her voice barely audible. "We've still got a long way to go." With that, she pats Mira's back and moves away, heading towards the makeshift 'lookout' where Ipo and Hermes are keeping watch.

Ipo and Hermes were settled in a tall tree nearby. They had chosen a spot where they could see clearly through the trees and had climbed until they found a spot where the branches were sturdy enough to hold them both.

The two of them were sitting in silence, their eyes scanning the rainforest around them. From this vantage point, they could see the entire camp, the waterfall, and the stretch of jungle beyond.

"You ever wish we could just stay in one place?" Ipo asks after a while. He's perched on a higher branch, his voice barely breaking the silence of the night. "You know, not have to run and fight and all that nonsense."

Hermes lets out a low chuckle. "You'd get bored in about a week, and then you'd be begging to get back out here," he counters. "We need the action, man. It's in our blood."

Ipo lets out a sigh, not disagreeing. They sit in silence for a few moments more, their eyes roaming the darkness, their ears strained for any sound of danger.

Finally, Hermes speaks again. "Doesn't mean we can't dream a bit," he says, his voice lowered. "Just for tonight. Dream a bit of a different life..."

Ipo looks over at him, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Fine. One night. And then tomorrow, we focus on the mission again. Deal?"

Hermes nods, grinning. "Deal. One night of fantasies."

Omar and Haru were settled near each other, their bodies close under Haru’s kimono robe. Omar had his arms around Haru, his chin resting on the top of Haru's head.

Haru was half-dozing, his body relaxed against Omar's. He was warm and comfortable, the sound of the waterfall adding a lulling effect to the night.

Haru's arms were looped around Omar's neck, his hands intertwined behind Omar's head. He nuzzled his face into Omar's chest, inhaling his warm, familiar scent.

"Hey," Haru said softly, his voice muffled. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?" Omar asked, looking down at him, a small smile playing on his lips.

"The thing where you get all tense," Haru replied, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on Omar's back. "You're overthinking again. I can feel it."

Omar huffed a laugh. "I don't overthink," he protested weakly, burying his nose in Haru's hair.

Haru pulled back slightly so he could look up at Omar, his expression a mix of affection and exasperation. "Liar," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You've been doing it all day."

Omar had the grace to at least look sheepish. "Maybe a little," he admitted, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on Haru's back. "It's hard not to, you know? Considering... everything."

Haru reached up, cupping Omar's face in his hands. "I know," he said. "But you need to stop. We're safe right now. We're together. Just... be here, with me."

Omar closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath. "I'm trying," he mumbled.

"Try harder," Haru said, his voice gentle but with a hint of steel. "Promise me you won't let yourself get lost in your head tonight. Just focus on this... on us."

Omar pressed his forehead against Haru's, eyes still closed. "I promise," he whispered. "Just... help me forget, just for tonight."

Haru's hands slid down to Omar's shoulders, his fingers digging into the tense muscles. "I'll do better than that," he murmured, a hint of mischief in his voice. "I'll make sure you don't have room for any thoughts besides me tonight."

“Haru Kobayashi there are kids around” omar says in a half sarcastic tone,

Haru's chuckle is low and warm. "They're asleep. And besides," he adds, his hands sliding down Omar's chest, fingers tracing the lines of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt, "I'm just helping you relax. In a... very efficient manner."

Omar's breath hitches, his heart rate picking up speed. "You're... evil," he gasps out, his fingers digging into Haru's hips. But there's a smile in his voice, a hint of eager anticipation.

"Who, me?" Haru's innocence is feigned, his eyes sparkling with wicked amusement. His hands continue their slow, torturous path down Omar's torso, leaving a trail of fiery heat in their wake.

Artula then sits up from where she was sleeping on the dirt “if you guys continue this conversation any further i will go, and drown myself in the lake.”

Omar and Haru immediately spring apart, caught off guard by Artula's interruption. Omar's face is flaming red, his heart racing.

Haru, trying valiantly to maintain his composure, mutters, "You're a mood killer, you know that?"

“More like a life saver..” she retorts

"For your information, we were just... talking," Omar protests weakly, trying to regain his composure.

Haru smirks, not buying Omar's excuse for a second. "Talking, huh?" he says, raising an eyebrow. "And what was the topic of this 'conversation'?"

Artula gives them a flat look. "I'm not stupid," she says dryly. "You two were not just 'talking'".

Omar looks like he's about to protest again, but Haru cuts him off with a smirk. "Alright, alright, you caught us. But can you blame us? Look at him-" he jerks his head towards Omar, who's still looking embarrassed "-You expect me to resist that?"

Artula rolls her eyes and flops back down onto the moss patch she was sleeping on. "Just... keep it down, okay? I don't wanna hear you two going at it.”

Haru laughs, leaning back onto the dirt. "No promises," he teases, winking at Omar.

"Haru!" Omar protests, his face growing even redder. He casts a glance back at the others, ensuring that they're all still asleep. "We are not-"

Haru chuckles, cutting him off. "Yet," he says suggestively.

Omar opens his mouth to retort, but a yawn interrupts him, making his argument less convincing. He covers his mouth, looking sheepish.

Haru snickers. "Looks like someone's tired," he says, still wearing a smug smile.

Artula just rolls her eyes again. "Go. To. Sleep," she says firmly, punctuating each word.

Omar and Haru trade one more look. It's clear that they're not done with their... conversation, but the combination of Artula's watchful eye and Omar's own weariness makes them concede for now.

Haru settles against omar underneath his kimono robe, tugging Omar down beside him. "Fine, fine," he concedes, wrapping an arm around Omar's shoulders. "We're going to sleep. Happy?"

Artula snorts. "Overjoyed," she says sarcastically, but there's a hint of amusement in her voice. "Now, shut up and let me sleep."

Omar mumbles something under his breath, but it's too quiet for it to be heard clearly. He curls up against Haru, his body seeking warmth and comfort against the other boy's bare chest.

Ipo and Hermes sat in silence for a while, their eyes still scanning the forest around them, their ears trained for any sound of danger. But the night is quiet, and the others are asleep, so all they really hear is the constant hum of insects and the distant murmur of the waterfall.

Hermes is the first to break the silence. "Hey, Ipo," he says, his voice keeping to a low murmur.

Ipo glances over at him. "Yeah?" he responds, his eyes still scanning the treeline.

Hermes is looking out at the tree line, his face thoughtful. "Can I ask you something?" he says, keeping his voice carefully casual.

Ipo nods, shifting his position to face Hermes more directly. "Sure. What is it?"

Hermes is silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "Have you ever... doubted any of this?" he asks.

Ipo looks at him, a puzzled frown on his brow. "This... as in, all of this?" he gestures vaguely to the surroundings. "Survival, running, fighting?"

Hermes shakes his head. "No, not that... at least, not exactly." He blows out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "I mean... do you ever wonder if all of this is worth it? This whole... mission. Is it worth everything we're risking? Everything we're putting on the line?"

Ipo is silent for a moment, considering the question. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't had his doubts, but he'd locked those doubts away, deep down, refusing to let them surface. But the way Hermes is asking... it's as if he's looking for reassurance, for someone to say that it's all going to be worth it in the end.

"Why do you ask?" he finally responds, his voice carefully neutral.

Hermes continues, his tone becoming more insistent. "I mean, what are we even doing? Are we just risking our lives for nothing? For a chance at saving some people we're not even sure are still alive? What if Mahela Tanda has killed them all already, and we're just throwing our lives away?"

Hermes turns to Ipo, eyes dark and intense. "Why us? Why does it have to be us, putting everything on the line for this?"

Ipo can feel the weight of Hermes' words, the desperation and doubt in them. He understands, and he feels it too, but he forces himself to remain calm, to be the steady presence amid the storm.

Ipo takes a deep breath, steadying himself. He looks at Hermes, his eyes serious.

"We're doing this because it's the right thing to do," he says firmly. "We're not risking our lives for nothing, we're risking them for a chance. A chance to make things right, to fix what's been broken. And if there's even a sliver of hope left for our people, we owe it to them to fight for it."

Ipo reaches out, placing a hand on Hermes' shoulder. "As for why us? We're no strangers to fighting, to struggling against impossible odds. We've lost family, we've lost friends... but we're still here, still fighting. I trust you, Hermes. I trust your skills, your instincts. That's why it has to be us."

Ipo's eyes burn with determination. "We don't know what's going to happen when we get back. We don't know what we're going to find. But we have to hope, Hermes. We have to believe that our people are worth fighting for. Because if we give up now, then all of this..." he gestures to the world around them, "all of this is wasted. If we give up now... we've already lost."

Hermes stares at Ipo for a moment, his eyes meeting the other boy's, and something in that gaze seems to spark something inside of him. A flickering ember of determination, of hope. Of hope that maybe, just maybe, this fight isn't futile. That they still have a chance.

"You really believe that, don't you?" he says, his voice a low murmur. "You really believe this will all be worth it, in the end."

Ipo nods, his hand still on Hermes' shoulder. "I do," he says firmly. "I believe that we can make a difference. Not just for our people, but for all of us. We can end this. We can free ourselves, and we can start rebuilding our world into something better."

Hermes is silent for a moment, his eyes trained on Ipo, searching the other boy's face. Then, finally, he nods, a small, shaky smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Alright," he says, his voice more steady than it's been since this conversation started. "Alright. I believe you."

Ipo smiles back, a rare moment of genuine emotion showing through his normally stoic exterior. "Good," he says, dropping his hand from Hermes' shoulder. He turns back to the treeline, eyes scanning the shadows. "Now let's keep watch. We have a long way to go tomorrow."

The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon when everyone begins to stir from their sleep. Omar and Haru wake up, untangling themselves from each other with drowsy groans. Artula and Ipo are already awake, spearing some fish at the lake nearby. And Hermes... well, he looks like he got about as much sleep as Omar and Haru did.

"Rise and shine," Zola says with a smirk, looking far too cheerful for this early in the morning.

Omar rubs his eyes blearily, his hair sticking up at odd angles. "How are you so awake?" he grumbles, pushing himself up from the ground.

Haru is still half-asleep, his hair mussed and his eyes half-lidded. He leans against Omar, using him to help steady himself. "Too early..." he mutters, yawning widely.

Artula snorts, holding up a fish speared on a stick. "Some of us actually know how to sleep without waking the entire forest every night," she says dryly, casting a pointed look at Omar and Haru.

Omar has the decency to blush, at least a little. He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding Artula's gaze.

Haru just grins lazily, unrepentant. "You're just jealous that our conversation was more interesting than yours," he quips, still leaning against Omar.

“What are you guys talking about?” Mira says waking up from her slumber.

Mira is the last to wake up, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she sits up. "Oh, you know," Haru says, grinning at her. "The usual. Surviving. Fighting. Annoying a certain someone-"

Artula smacks him over the head with a stick, startling him. "Quiet, fool," she says gruffly.

Omar snickers, watching the interaction between Haru and Artula. Hermes is a little ways away, standing on guard, keeping a watchful eye on the trees. Ipo is by the fire, roasting the fish that Artula speared.

"Anyway," Omar says, looking over at Mira, "How'd you sleep?"

“Too humid” she grumbled.

Omar laughs. "Yeah, tell me about it. It's like sleeping in a sauna."

Artula snorts. "At least it's not raining," she points out.

As Mira sits up, Everyone gasps or recoils when they see Mira's hair, Omar and Haru bursting out laughing. Artula actually lets out a bark of laughter, while Hermes lets out a whistle.

"Oh gaia, your hair..." Omar says, between peals of laughter.

Zola swats Omar and Haru on the backs of their heads to make them stop laughing, then steps over to Mira, shaking her head. "Oh, Mira," she says, sounding more exasperated than anything. She reaches out, trying to gently untangle the mop of curly dark blonde hair on Mira's head.

"I really don't know why you never tie your hair back when you sleep," Zola mutters. "I keep telling you, curls tangles..."

“It was braided! I always have my hair it a braid you all see it, it just must off come out last night…”

It's true, Mira consistently keeps her hair braided, but somehow, it's become an untamable mess of curls overnight.

Zola continues to try to untangle the mess, but it's a slow and somewhat painful process. Omar, Haru, and Artula are still giggling a little, while Ipo looks vaguely amused.

Zola leads Mira over to the lake, dunking her head into the water. The lake water is surprisingly cold, so Mira gasps and sputters a bit, but it does help to loosen the tangles in her hair.

Zola starts to work on the tangles more easily, fingers working quickly and carefully to untangle the curls.

Ipo, clearly unamused by Omar and Haru's teasing, crosses his arms, a disapproving frown on his face. "Hey, leave her alone," he says, gesturing towards Mira. "Your hair doesn't look that much better in the morning, anyway."

Ipo returns to the fire, leaving Omar and Haru to fend for themselves. He continues roasting the fish, checking on them periodically. Omar and Haru, sensing Ipo's disapproval, settle down, though they're still snickering a little.

Meanwhile, Zola is still working on untangling Mira's hair by the lake, slowly making some progress.

Artula sits down next to Ipo, taking a moment to gather her black and brown hair into two loose curly plats. She's quiet as she works, her fingers moving nimbly through her hair.

Ipo glances at her, a small, approving smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He continues roasting the fish, the scent of cooking food wafting through the air.

Hermes lands on the ground with catlike grace, placing his spear with the others'. He leans against the tree for a moment, then says suddenly, "You know what I just noticed?"

Everyone looks over at him, curious to know what he's noticed. Artula speaks up first. "What?" she asks, an eyebrow raised.

“That none of us have straight hair, Zola has an afro under those braids, me, Mira, and omar have curly hair, Artula has looser curls, ipo have tighter curls, and haru has wavy hair”

Everyone looks around as Hermes speaks, realising that he's right. None of them have straight hair, their varying textures evident on their heads. Omar runs a hand through his messy curls, laughing suddenly. "I can't believe I never noticed that," he says, sounding somewhat awed.

Artula gives him an exasperated look. "That's because you're oblivious," she says bluntly.

Omar and Haru, still a little sheepish from making fun of Mira earlier, decide to go for a quick dip in the lake to freshen up. They jump into the cold water with identical yells of surprise, splashing each other and acting like a couple of fools.

Meanwhile, Zola and Mira return to the group, Mira's untangled hair hanging wetly around her shoulders. Zola pats her head affectionately, looking pleased with her handiwork.

Artula watches Omar and Haru fool around in the lake, looking exasperated once again. She throws a pebble into the water to get their attention. "Oi, idiots! You're supposed to be getting clean, not having a water fight!"

“Who knew the two oldest people of this group would be the most immature at certain times” Zola says.

Zola looks over at Omar and Haru in the water with an amused smile. Artula cackles in agreement, shaking her head at the scene. "Seriously, you'd think they were a couple of kids, not a couple of twenty-something-year-olds."

Mira grins, watching Omar and Haru, now engaged in a full-blown splashing war. "It is kind of funny," she admits, laughing a little.

Ipo finally steps in, shaking his head. "Alright, you two," he calls out to Omar and Haru. "Enough fooling around. We need to get going soon, so finish up and get out."

Haru just sticks his tongue out at Ipo, while Omar finally starts to make his way out of the water, followed closely by Haru.

Artula grins as Ipo takes the fish off the fire. "Thanks," she says, sounding pleased. "I know how to use a spear."

Omar and Haru return from their dip in the lake, hair dripping wet and grins plastered on their faces. "You guys missed out, the lake is really refreshing!" Omar says, flinging water at Artula and Ipo.

Artula grins as Ipo takes the fish off the fire. "Thanks," she says, sounding pleased. "I know how to use a spear."

Artula and Ipo dodge the water droplets, Ipo shooting Omar an unimpressed look. "Maybe we'll go for a dip later," he says dryly. "When we have time, and you're not acting like a child.”

"I'm not acting like a child," Omar protests, only to get a smack upside the head from Artula. "Yes, you are," she says firmly. "You and Haru both."

"Yeah, yeah," Omar grumbles, rubbing the back of his head where Artula smacked him. "You guys are just jealous we know how to have fun."

Haru just snickers, slinging his arm around Omar's shoulders.

“Okay love birds, hurry up and eat so we can go.” Artula says,

Omar and Haru glance at each other, sharing an amused look. Omar just rolls his eyes while Haru sticks his tongue out at Artula, clearly unbothered.

Haru goes off to the fire, sitting down to grab a piece of fish. "yes ma’am," he says jokingly, saluting Artula as he takes a bite.

The hike continues as the group treks through the rain forest. The sound of their footsteps on the damp forest floor echoes around them, mingling with the sounds of the rainforest. The air feels thick and humid, the scent of damp earth and wet leaves filling their nostrils.

Hermes is leading the group this time, his spear clutched loosely in his hand. Artula is on his left, scanning the surrounding trees intently. Ipo follows behind them, keeping a watchful eye on the rest of the group.

Mira smiles warmly at Zola “thanks for doing my hair this morning”, her hair now drying in dark blonde, natural curls. "No problem," Zola replies, patting Mira's shoulder affectionately. "I'm just glad you didn't end up with a birds nest in your hair forever."

Mira laughs softly, running a hand through her curls. "Yeah, me too," she admits, shuddering at the memory.

Zola slyly leans towards Mira, smirking slightly. "You know," she says, lowering her voice so the others can't hear. "You actually look kind of cute with your curly hair out like that."

Mira's face flushes pink at the sudden compliment, surprised by Zola's comment. "Shut up," she mutters, bumping Zola's shoulder gently.

Zola chuckles, clearly pleased with herself for making Mira blush. "Hey, I'm just being honest," she replies, her smile widening. "You always keep your hair is a braid. It's nice to see it down for a change."

Mira's cheeks grow even more red, and she ducks her head, trying to hide her embarrassment. "Yeah, well... don't get used to it," she mumbles, knowing that her messy curls weren't as tidy as Zola's perfect braids.

Hermes suddenly stops walking, holding up his hand to signal the group to halt. Everyone obediently stops, turning to him with puzzled expressions. Artula takes a few quick steps to stand next to Hermes, peering over his shoulder to see what's caught his attention.

The others wait with bated breath, the forest suddenly quiet except for the sounds of insects and rustling leaves. Hermes's eyes are fixed on something ahead, his grip on his spear tightening slightly.

Finally, after a few tense moments, Hermes speaks softly, "I think we might have company.." He indicates something just behind a cluster of trees.

Following Hermes's gaze, Artula squints and spots what he's looking at, her expression growing wary. "It's a hunting party," she murmurs, recognizing the spears and bows they're holding.

Ipo, Omar, and Haru move closer, taking in the situation. Omar's grip on his spear tightens, his eyes darting warily. "How many are there?" he asks in hushed tones.

Artula frowns as she counts quietly to herself, her eyes sharp. "Looks like...about 7 or 8," she replies. "Maybe more, but it's hard to tell at this distance."

Hermes curses under his breath, calculating the odds of this potentially hostile encounter. "Great," he mutters, gripping his spear tighter. "Just what we needed."

Mira, her voice barely above a whisper, turns to the group. "They can’t see us from where we are," she points out, her eyes locked on the hunting party ahead. "If we're quiet and careful, we might be able to avoid a confrontation."

Everyone nods in agreement, understanding the implications of this unexpected encounter. Ipo glances at Mira, impressed by her observation. "That’s a good point," he murmurs. "Let's keep our distance and try not be seen."

Omar and Haru exchange glances, both looking a bit on edge. Omar runs a hand though his curls, his expression tense. "Easier said than done," he mutters. "Those guys look like they mean business."

Zola rolls her eyes at Omar's pessimism, her hands resting on her hip. "Well, we've faced worse before, right?" she says, feigning nonchalance. "As long as no one does anything stupid, we should be fine."

Haru coughs purposely as he says “Hermes…” referring to the last disaster that occurred.

Hermes grimaces at the subtle jab from Haru, knowing full well to what incident is being referenced. He shoots Haru a glare, opening his mouth to protest, but Mira cuts him off. "Now is not the time for arguing, guys," she cautions, her eyes flickering towards the hunting party.

“She’s right,” Artula says firmly. “We need to stay focused and come up with a plan before we do anything.” Ipo nods in agreement, looking over at Hermes. “Any suggestions, O-Wise-One?” he asks, his tone sarcastic but laced with a hint of genuine curiosity.

Hermes rolls his eyes at Ipo's jab, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “You’re insufferable, you know that, right?” he replies, before turning his attention back to the situation at hand. “We should veer off the path and try to circle around them,” he suggested.

"That way, we can keep our distance and hope they don’t spot us,” he continues. The group nods, agreeing that Hermes’s plan seemed like the best course of action given the circumstances.

Making their way off the path, they sneak through the underbrush, trying to move quietly and avoid any unwanted attention. Mira keeps her eyes fixed on the hunting party, her stomach twisting anxiously.

The group treks through the undergrowth, their footsteps light and stealthy. The atmosphere is tense, and everyone is watching the hunting party carefully behind the foliage. Suddenly, a crack echoes through the air as Ipo steps on a twig, the sound of snapping wood cutting through the silence.

With the sharp snap of the twig, the group immediately drops down, ducking behind bushes and shrubs to avoid being noticed. Everyone holds their breath, waiting to see if the hunting party has heard the noise.

The hunting party halts, the women turning their heads in the direction of the noise. They exchange glances, spears and bows at the ready, before slowly moving towards the bushes where the group is hidden.

As the hunting party slowly approaches the bushes, Haru’s heart jumps into his throat when he suddenly feels something slither across his feet. Looking down, his eyes widen in panic as he spots a snake at his feet.

Haru’s eyes flash with fear, and he desperately tries to stay still and quiet, not letting out the scream that bubbles up in his throat.

Hermes notices Haru's distress, the muscles in his jaw bunching as he suppresses a reaction. Artula glances over, following Hermes’ gaze to where Haru is struggling silently with the snake.

“He’s gonna crack,” Artula mutters under her breath, her eyes on Haru. “We need to do something.”

Omar, who is next to Haru, silently agrees. He reaches a hand out to gently nudge Haru, trying to signal him to hold it together.

The snake, seemingly uninterested in Haru, finally slithers away, disappearing into the undergrowth. The group exhales slowly, the tension in the air loosening slightly now that the immediate danger is gone.

As the group relaxes slightly, the tense atmosphere suddenly shifts into danger as they hear rustling around them. They look up to see the hunting party has surrounded them, their spears pointed directly at them.

The women, their expressions a mixture of wariness and hostility, stand with their weapons poised for attack.

The leader of the hunting party, a stern-looking woman with an air of authority, strides up to the front of her group and raises her hand, signaling the others to halt. Her eyes sweep over the group, a mixture of curiosity and wariness in her gaze.

The other hunters lower their spears and bows, the hostility slowly fading from their faces. The leader's features soften as she takes in the sight of the group, most of them looking young and inexperienced.

She lets out a slight sigh, her eyes flickering between the group members, before speaking in a low, commanding yet gentle tone.

“What on Gaia are you, children doing out here?”

The leader's voice is strong but not unkind. She looks at the group with genuine concern, clearly puzzled by the sight of young faces in such a dangerous forest.

Mira, her voice trembling slightly, takes a step forward, speaking up on behalf of the group. “We’re…We’re travelling,” she manages to stutter out.

The leader looks at Mira, her gaze piercing yet soft. “Traveling, you say?” she repeats, crossing her arms. “And where, pray tell, are you kids traveling to?”

“Mount fikalimankaro…”

The leader raises an eyebrow at her reply. "Mount Fikalimankaro, huh? That's quite a journey for a group of children, don't you think?" Her tone is mildly skeptical but not harsh.

“We have Omar and Haru” Artula says gesturing towards the two adults in their group.

The leader glances at Omar and Haru, who straighten up under her gaze. She gives a soft scoff, eyeing them up and down.

"Ah yes, your adult chaperones," she remarks, the slightest hint of disdain in her voice. "Quite young themselves, aren't they?"

The leader nods, her eyes flitting over to Omar and Haru. “How old are the both of you, exactly?” she asks, her voice firm.

“Twenty six” answered Omar

“Twenty eight” answered haru

The leader raises an eyebrow, a hint of surprise on her face. "Twenty-six and twenty-eight," she muses, repeating their ages. "You're both… younger than most of my hunters," she says, a ghost of a smile on her face.

But there's a hint of skepticism in her tone as she continues speaking. "And I'm supposed to trust and believe you're responsible enough to lead a group of youngsters like these on such a perilous journey?"

“You could say, we didn’t have much of a choice..” omar says in defence

The leader tilts her head curiously, her skepticism still visible. "No choice, you say?" she echoes, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm not sure I understand. Explain what you mean by that."

The leader listens quietly as the group explains their circumstances, her expression growing more sympathetic as the story unfolds. When they reach the part about the prophecy and the journey to Mount Fikalimankaro, the leader's eyes widen in surprise.

She stands silently for a moment, digesting the information. Then she lets out a soft sigh, her shoulders relaxing somewhat.

"So...you're all on this journey because of a prophecy?" she asks, her tone less judgmental than before.

The group nods, the weight of their mission visible on their faces. The leader studies each member carefully, her mind clearly working.

"And this is why you're traveling to Mount Fikalimankaro," she says, her eyes flickering back to the mountain in the distance. "To find the gem."

Hermes takes a step forward, his usual confidence faltering slightly under the leader's gaze. "That's right," he confirms, his voice steady. "We believe the gem is the key to stopping Malhela Tanda."

The leader gives a firm nod, her expression becoming more serious again. "I see," she says, folding her arms. "And what makes you think you'll be able to find the gem, let alone get there? It's a treacherous journey, and you're just children.”

Hermes takes a deep breath, his determination apparent. "We know it won't be easy," he admits, his grip on his spear tight. "But we have no choice. The fate of our home island depends on it."

The leader, her serious expression finally softening, gives a slight nod. "I suppose you're all determined and stubborn then,” she says, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“My name is Bititi,” she introduces herself, her gaze shifting over the group once more.

Bititi lets out a soft chuckle, admiring the group's determination. "You know, you all remind me of myself when I was younger. Stubborn and fearless."

She then straightens up, her expression becoming more decisive. "Alright, I'll take you all to Mount Fikalimankaro," she declares, the other hunters nodding in agreement.

The group exchange glances, relief mixing with awe at Bititi's decision. Hermes, ever the leader, steps forward and speaks up. "Thank you," he says, his voice filled with gratitude. "We won't let you down."

Bititi gives a small nod as she considers the time. "Though, it's late in the afternoon already," she says, looking up at the sky.

"We should be returning back to our village soon," she continues. "Besides, it's easier to navigate the forest during the day. We can start our journey to Mount Fikalimankaro tomorrow morning."

The group nods, disappointment written on their faces as they realize they'll have to wait a little longer before moving forward. But they understand the practicalities of the situation, and slowly start to accept Bititi's words.

Mira, the adventurous one out of the young group, can't help but ask a question as they get up from the ground. "What is your village like, Bititi?”

Bititi glances down at Mira, her eyes softening again at the young girl's curiosity. "Our village is a small but strong community," she answers, a hint of pride in her voice. "We live in harmony with the forest, respecting its beauty and dangers. We hunt, we gather, we grow, we protect."

The group, especially the younger members, listens intently to Bititi's description, their eyes wide and curious. They imagine what it'd be like to live in such a village, surrounded by the jungle and its secrets.

#angst #love #original character #original story #writing #equality #words #tumblr fyp

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writeaboutit · 9 months ago

Text

You Won't Ever Get Over It, and That's Okay

Ellie is grieving and her girlfriend, Violet, comforts her.

(I wrote this a while ago for Ao3 but I thought I would post it here too! My Ao3 is writeaboutit is you want to check it out <3)

word count: 1.9k

The opening of the bedroom door caused a humid breeze to flow into the room from the open window, rousing Violet from sleep. The thin sheet was bunched down at the end of the bed and she was lying on her stomach, arms propped under her head and pillow.

The summer heat was brutal this year. Seven days had reached over a hundred degrees this month and they were only fifteen days into August. It made patrol awful. Everyone was vying for the night shifts now.

She could not wait for autumn when sleeping with the widow open would actually do something to regulate the temperature in the house not just circulate the stagnate, muggy air.

Heavy footfalls sounded across the room before coming to a stop on the other side of the bed; Ellie’s side. Though awake, Violet hadn’t made any move to make Ellie aware of that fact yet. The sound of objects being set on the rickety bedside table that Violet has painted flowers on the drawer echoed throughout the room; probably her gun and walkman.

The mattress dipped behind Violet before she heard her sigh. A sound she knew all too well and dreaded every time the woman she loved made it. That particular sigh is not the one she makes after a long day of work patrolling the gates.

No, this sound is reserved for when she’s grieving. Violet turns over to face Ellie knowing that she needs another person’s presence in this moment. She’s met with Ellie’s back, hunched over, elbows resting on her knees. She runs her fingers through her hair, the limbs only gliding through her bangs before getting stuck in the bit that is pulled back into a half-up half-down style. There’s that sigh again.

Violet worms her way closer to Ellie’s figure. She runs her fingers up her back alerting her girlfriend to the fact that she’s awake. Ellie jolts slightly and the touch, not expecting her to be awake.

She glances over her shoulder a small, sad smile on her face.

“Hey you,” Violet whispers.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, baby.”

She tries to play it off as nothing is wrong but Violet knows her better than she knows herself, probably. There’s no hiding herself when it comes to things like this, not when they both understand the feelings of grief.

“You didn’t wake me, this godforsaken heat makes it impossible to sleep,” a small, comforting smile decorates Violet’s face.

She only gives her the same smile from earlier, before turning back to rest her arms on her legs. Violet sits up, scooting in to sit behind Ellie. Wrapping her legs around the woman, she rests her chin on her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She softens the question with a light kiss the the side of Ellie’s neck.

Ellie leans her head back, looking up at the ceiling before blowing out a long breath.

“You can say no,” Violet reminds her, not wanting to pressure her girlfriend into talking about it if she’s not ready.

“No, I do. I’m just thinking…” she trails off, still looking at the ceiling. Violet rests her chin back on the woman’s shoulder, patiently waiting.

“A man,” Ellie sucks in a breath like the memory physically hurts her.

“Why don’t we lay down, hm?” Violet runs her fingers up Ellie’s back once more. Ellie nods once.

Violet moves back to her side of the bed pulling the sheet up around her waist, peeling it back for Ellie to slide underneath.

They lay on their sides facing each other, noses almost touching. Once Ellie is settled Violet leans forward a fraction bumping her nose with her girlfriends in a comforting gesture.

Ellie gives her a small smile before continuing, “A man came in today. They found him out while scavenging.”

Violet has a feeling she knows where this story is going. There are very few things that pull that particular sigh out of her girlfriend and Joel is one of them.

“He was alone, all beaten up, covered in dirt.” She pauses like she is picturing said man, “I was out on patrol, they asked me to bring him to get cleaned up and then to Donna so she could ask him some questions.” Her eyes squeeze shut.

Violet traces the lines of Ellie’s forearm tattoo, knowing that there’s nothing that needs to be said at this moment; she’ll continue when she’s ready but Violet couldn’t help but give her the little encouragement at the sight of her pain.

“I walked him to the bathrooms so he could shower. On the way, he talked a little bit, nothing much but he mentioned his daughter,” She gasps before the first tear falls onto the pillow under her head.

“I don’t know what happened but the pain in his eyes when he mentioned her reminded me so much of him,” she sobs, “and his hair was black wi-” gasp, “with streaks of gray. It just reminded me so much of him.” The last bit of the sentence is garbled.

“Oh baby,” Violet rushes to wipe her tears, hugging Ellie’s head to her chest. Joel. She’s talking about Joel. This happens now and again. It’s not often that Ellie cries over Joel. Violet knows her girlfriend feels the grief of losing him every day, but it’s not often that she lets it out like this.

“It’s stupid, I know. That guy is just a random man, it doesn’t matter, but for some reason it just hit me.” The sound of her voice is muffled into Violet’s chest.

“It’s not stupid baby. In fact, it’s completely normal. Every time I see Tessa and that blond hair of hers my heart seizes. It’s only for a brief second but not a day goes by where her hair doesn’t remind me of Jessy’s.” Violet assures her. Years ago, before Ellie and Violet had even met, Violet and her sister Jessy were out on their own. Violet got lucky, found a safe place to live, a woman to love. Jessy was not as lucky.

Not a day goes by when Violet does not grieve her sister so she can understand the pain Ellie’s in, it’s one of the reasons they were so drawn to each other, their shared grief.

“I know it’s not stupid it’s just-” she pauses, bringing her head back to the pillow, “I just want the constant pain to end. He died years ago. When will it end?”

“Never.” Violet bluntly told her, “You loved him. He was important to you. You’ll never forget him and so that grief will never leave, not fully.” She gave a sad smile.

“Such a pep-talker,” Ellie joked, giving a wet chuckle.

“I’m trying here,” Violet playfully slapped Ellie’s shoulder.

She reached for Ellie’s face wiping away a few lingering tear streaks, “I’m serious though. It will never go away, but that’s not a bad thing. It means that he’s still with you, in here.” Violet rubs a finger on Ellie’s chest right over her heart, “Just like Jessy’s still in here.” She brings Ellie’s finger to her own chest rubbing the same spot.

After a few moments spent in silence the women lock eyes, “Maybe you’re not so bad at the whole pep-talk thing,” she chuckles, Violet matching her with a giggle.

“I have something for you,” Violet surprises Ellie by saying.

“Oh and what could that be?” She suggestively questions with the raise of her eyebrows.

“Get your mind out of the gutter baby, it’s an actual present.” Violet laughs, getting up from the bed and heading towards the closet. She slides the door open, squatting before a pile of clothes on the ground.

Ellie sits up, trying to get a better look at what she’s doing riffling through their dirty clothes. Violet springs up spinning on her toes, hiding something behind her back. She walks over to the bed crawling up the mattress before settling on her knees in front of Ellie.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,”

Ellie raises an eyebrow at the request.

“Please?” Violet gives her the doe eyes that she knows Ellie can never say no to. She complies, slowly shutting her eyes, and running her hands up her girlfriend’s hips before holding them in the air before her.

Violet gives a soft moan and the light caress causing Ellie to give a cocky smirk. She settles the present in her outstretched hands settling back onto her heels, anxiously waiting for the woman’s reaction.

Ellie opens her eyes staring down at the cardboard square in her hands. Her eyes widen in realization over what this gift is. It’s a vinyl of the 2013 album Lightning Bolt by Pearl Jam. Silence lingers in the room, Ellie in shock at what she’s holding, Violet anxious, and the woman’s silence.

“Maybe it’s stupid but I thought since you have the tape version you might like the vinyl for the house.” She wrings her fingers together.

All Ellie says in response is, “Where did you get this?” at a loss for any other response.

“Nalla was out on a run a few days ago when she found it. I traded her some paint for it. Apparently, she has taken up the hobby of water coloring.”

“You didn’t have to do that baby,” she says so softly, still looking at the album.

“I wanted to.” She simply responds.

Ellie finally looks up, her eyes watery, “Thank you.”

“Of course baby.” Ellie pulls Violet into her lap, placing a chaste kiss on her lips.

“I love you,” Ellie says between another kiss, this one a little firmer, as if to cement the statement.

“I love you too,” Violet says against her lips, before deepening the kiss.

Their lips lock together like pieces of a puzzle. As if they were made for each other. Sometimes Violet thinks they must have been; it’s the only reasonable explanation for the connection they share.

Ellie bands her arms around Violet’s waist, drawing her impossibly closer. The movement grinding them together causing both to let out synchronized sighs.

Ellie runs her tongue along the seam of her girlfriend’s lips begging for entrance. Violet immediately grants it to her moaning at the taste of the woman.

They tumble back into the pillows, Ellie on her back, Violet settling on top of her hips, their lips never disconnecting. Ellie runs her hands up the back of Violet’s thighs.

Violet gasps out a moan, pulling back to sit up. Ellie continues her exploration of the woman’s body with her hands. She leans up to trail her lips down the side of Violet’s neck, “Please,” she sobs when Ellie’s hands reach the hem of her loose, black tank top.

At the whine in her voice, Ellie seems to turn feral, whipping the shirt off and over her head. The feral-ness however is paused when she sees what is under her girlfriend’s shirt. A red, lacy bra with little gems lining the sheer cups.

She blows out a breath at the sight, falling back onto the pillows. Running her hands up the top of her woman’s thighs she takes in the view. Violet, straddling her in her sleep shorts and a red lace bra, smirking down at her.

“Jesus,” she mutters, at a loss for words. She can’t believe this woman is hers.

“Oh yeah,” Violet plays innocent, “Nalla also found this while scavenging.”

“You give Nalla all the paint she wants,” Ellie jokes looking up into Violet’s eyes.

Violet giggles, leaning down to frame Ellie’s face with her hands, “God I love you.” She says against her lips.

Ellie grips her hips flipping them so Violet is now on her back, long brown locks fanned out on the pillows.

She leans down, looking deeply into Violet’s blue eyes, “I love you too.” She punctuates the statement with a searing kiss.

(How did we like it? I don't know it was bouncing around in my brain for a while so I just decided fuck it why not, and wrote it. I also have written a few more scenes with Ellie and Violet but idk when I'll post them. Thanks for reading<3)

#tlou #tlou2 #ellie tlou #joel tlou #joel and ellie #ellie williams #dealing with grief #loss #emotions #comfort #original character #my fic #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

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james-is-here · 1 year ago

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Cat Distribution System is broken, he already has cats!

I don’t know what this title is but I love Minho and I’m bored.

Walking down a sidewalk, Minho rolls his eyes at Jisung and Felix. He didn’t want to go with them to get drinks and snacks for everyone but Chan said they needed some sort of supervision.

The two boys walked a few steps ahead of him, bumping into each other and laughing about who knows what as he watched them carefully and the people around them so if they bumped into someone walking by he can apologize for them.

It was slightly muggy that afternoon, rain from the previous night still cover the ground as the air almost feels sticky along with it being slightly humid but there was an added breeze that kinda helped.

Looking around, he almost missed Jisung whose knelt on the ground to tie his shoe. Regaining his balance he steps to the side, pulling Felix with who still stood in the middle of the path.

“Oh my gosh, Hyung, look!” He’s looking down at Jisung who’s staring forward. The rapper was about to stand up when something under a nearby box caught his attention. “What?” Minho asked, only seeing the trash bin the convince store they were going to owns and boxes around it.

Jisung gets up and quickly walks over to the dumpster, picking up a box as the other two walked over to him to reveal a seemingly small scottish fold kitten, it’s beady eyes looking up at its shelter suddenly being moved as it cowards away and tries to hide.

It’s fur was pepper and ginger colored soaked, slightly covered in mud. Minho’s face fell from his neutral look to a softer one as he gasped and picked the kitten up, it looked about 8 weeks old as the idol cradled the kitten to his chest. “What do we do? There’s a collar…” Felix spoke before picking up the blue collar to see if there’s a tag but all he found was a broken ring which usually hold the tag on it. “The tag broke off…Never mind…”

“Well, I can’t leave them here. Let’s go get the stuff and then we can go from there.” Minho concludes as the walk away from the garbage and to the store.

He put the kitten in his coat, trying to lessen its shivering as the three of them collected the requests of treats then leave.

They stood next to the store entrance before they returned to the others. “So, now what?” “Well…I’m not sure.” “It seems like the system is out to get you, Hyung.” “What?” “Cat Distribution System.” Felix laughed. “Although I think it’s broken, this is someone else’s cat.” “Alright…Well, I can take it with us to clean it up a bit then maybe come back here to see if someone came to look for them.” ��You think that’s okay?” “Yeah, it’s not like I’m keeping them.”

Walking back to the dorms, the kitten had fallen asleep and Minho smiled softly. His hand rested on the kitten under his jacket the whole time back home, even when he dropped off one of the snack bags and went to the other door to change his shirt, it being wet from the cats fur, and to wash the kitten before walking back to the other dorm with the kitten wrapped in a towel.

“Minho, why do you have a cat?” “Found it.” “I assumed that but why do you have it?” Chan asked again as he sat cross legged on the couch.

“I couldn’t just leave it. I was gonna eat my snack then go back out to see if the owner was nearby.” “But there’s no collar, what if it’s a stray?” “Oh! If you’re going out later I should give you the collar to return it as well.” Felix said as he got up to get the collar out of his jackets.

“It has a collar?” “Yeah but no tag.” Minho replied and sat next to Chan. “Aw, that sucks. Well, it’s very cute.” He smiled as he reached over to scratch its head.” “Very cute.”

A little later on, he went out again back to the store he found the kitten. He doesn’t know how he can back track from there but maybe a sign or something was put up about a lost cat.

When he got there, he first checked to see if maybe the broken name tag was where the cat was only to find no tag. He let out a heavy sigh as he looked at the cat. “Where do you live, little one, huh?” All it did in return is meow and nuzzle against Minho’s chin.

“Minho!” He looks up at the sudden call of his name and look around. “Excuse me, h-have you-“ The voice deflated as it was ignored and the person walked away. “Damn it, my sister should be looking for him, not me. She left the door open, not me.” The voice huffed and Minho turned to his left to see a disheveled male, seemingly younger than him, looking around with what looked like tears in his eyes.

“Hey, Are you okay?” The boy looks over to him and he eyes widen when he sees what in the idols arms. “Minho! Oh my gosh, you found him, thank you so much.” He took the cat into his arms and hugged it as tight as he could and kissed his head. “It’s name is Minho?” “Yeah- Oh, buddy, where’s your collar?” “Oh, here.” Minho pulled the collar out of his pocket and handed it over. “When we found him the tag wasn’t on it anymore.” “Dang, well i’ve been needing to change it anyway since my address is different now.”

The boy finally looks up from cooing at the cat to the man who had found him. “Oh-Oh my god…Now I feel even more thankful.” “Huh?” “Thank you for finding my cat, Lee Know. Thank you.”

His eyes widen slightly when he hears his stage name and he chuckles. “Oh, well, uh, Jisung actually found him earlier today and took us to him. He was under that box over there.” He said pointing to the box. “I picked him up and took him home to clean him up. He was covered in a bit of mud when we found him.” “Aw, well, thanks again, Lee Know, for taking care of my cat. C-Can I ask you a question?” “Yeah.” “Usually I leave Idols to themselves but c-can i get a picture of you with…uh, Minho. My sister won’t believe me that Lee Know of Stray Kids found my cat.”

Minho smiled and nodded, taking the cat from the boy then smiling when he stepped next to him for a selfie. “Thanks again. I’m sorry if I kept you from anything.” “You’re fine, we didn’t have anything for today.” “That’s good. Um, could you say hi to the others for me? You don’t have to! I-I’m just really proud of all of you and I’m actually a month older than…um, than you actually…and it’s just really cool that you found my cat. Oh, my name is Kai.” Minho chuckles. “Yeah, I can say hi for you. They loved your cat.”

Kai shuffles awkwardly. “I feel embarrassed that I named my cat after you.” “That’s okay.” “Okay, um, right. Thanks again, I-I should head home to yell at my sister for leaving the door open. When you do, can you give extra love to your cats from me? Your cats are adorable as well.” “Yeah.” “C-Cool, take care Lee Know.” “You too.”

Kai walked away, happily scratching his cats head as Minho smiled and walked back home.

When he arrived at the dorms, taking off his jacket, Chan looked over to him. “Hey Min, did you find them?” “Yeah.” He smiled and moved to sit next to Chan once again. “Why are you smiling?” “The owner was a Stay, the cats name was Minho.” The boys coo and a couple laughed. “He asked if I could say hi to you guys for him. He’s proud of us and he mentioned he was a month older than me, he kinda went off on a rant but it was funny…in a good way, of course. Even asked me to give extra love to Soonie, Doongi, and Dori.”

“Did Minho find another cat dad and fall in love?” Minho’s brows furrow as he grabs the pillow between him and Chan to swat it at the back of Hyunjin’s head. “I was just returning his cat, and he’s a Stay anyway.” “So?”

Minho scoffs and rolls his eyes. Kai was kinda cute which threw Minho off for a moment before he fell into Kai’s rant and found him adorable. He now realizes that Kai was wearing a Maniac hoodie and his hair was blue. “His hair was blue like Felix’s…and he was wearing a maniac hoodie…” He says absentmindedly. “He also had a Leebit keychain tied to one of the hoodie strings.”

“Oh god, he’s in deep just from a simple exchange.” Seungmin said almost sounding mortified before falling to the floor when Chan kicked his arm to push him over.

Minho ignored them and pulled his phone out. He didn’t know if Kai had any socials but he tried the cats name. All he got was fan accounts with ‘Minho’ in the user before his eyes caught a profile picture of a familiar cat. ‘Kai_and_Minnie’ was the name and when he tapped on it, he saw pictures of the male and the cat.

Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to talk to him again…

Just something cute. I love Minho a lot, he’s so cute.

#bleh #random #my brain is weird #real life #straykids #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

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glazedsnail · 4 months ago

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Fanfic closing soon

So there we are. That's the second to last part. AT LAST.

I'm usually way ahead before I post a part but this time the last part is all in my head I can't wait to put it on paper. And I'll try my best to post it tomorrow by the latest cause after that I'm away for a few days. AND I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE ANYONE ON THAT.

You'll see why

Misery Loved Company

ShanexOCFarmer (♀️) 18+ - Mention of suicidal ideation/mention of csa/substance misuse

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9

Also, finally, this is what Fern looks like.

I'm VERY bad at description and I WILL blame 1st person writing which I CHOSE to write in.

She's tired ya'll. but she cute.

I used the super handy tool by Jaz and Poltergeister linked here ♥ Because I tried to draw her myself and uh, yeah, no, i'll stick to writing. That's how bad my drawing is.

The heavy rain of the afternoon falling on the warm air left the night with a muggy lovechild enveloping the valley.

In his room, Shane blames the weather for his inability to fall asleep. Cover on, cover off. One leg out, two legs. He tosses, turns, grunting and grumbling.

Dinner was a disaster. Marnie wanted nothing to do with him, and so did he. Tension could probably be felt from the mountain top. Marnie was in the wrong. Wasn’t she? He turns.

She cannot possibly believe that Fern would have destroyed him, his effort, his “progress”. She knows herself how that odd new farmer helped with the singular little push to the right direction. So what if she wanted more. He faces the wall. So what if he wanted more. He groans. Their last conversation was a fight. She collapsed in the hospital parking lot and was immediately treated for severe dehydration. He saw her then weakened dark eyes fill with tears as she asked him to leave. He had all the intentions to, he thinks. But not before he knew she was safe. He turns to the messy room. The TV is still on, its crackling noise filling the room. It’s familiar. Comfortable. Did she even make it back to the farm? And what truly happened with this story of “glass shattered in anger”? What even are his feelings for her anyway? A long groan. He buries his face in his hands and sits up. There’s no point fighting it. Leaving the statically singing TV, he heads to the kitchen and walks straight to the adjacent chicken coop. None of the chickens are bothered by the weather, or the rough looking tired half naked man who just walked in. Most are sleeping peacefully, snoring soft “bock” into their wings. Others seem to be snuggling, or walking around in that peculiar chicken gait…

Shane leans against the wall where he had proudly hung his “Fresh Eggs” sign. He slowly slides down to the floor. Immediately, a white chicken runs towards him and jumps on his lap, clucking enthusiastically.

‘Hey Charlie.’ He whispers, stroking the chicken’s neck. “In another life, I could see myself becoming a chicken farmer” he repeats to himself.

‘I really fucked up, didn’t I?’

Charlie lifts her head to his voice.

‘I didn’t know how to handle it. All this. It was somehow easier when I didn’t have any plan, something to look forward to. I let my guard down, I let her in.’

‘Cluck’

‘Fern’

‘Cluck?’

‘You’ve met Fern, c’mon.’ Shane sighs, shuffling in place ‘Y’know, when she first moved in the old farm I gave her two weeks at most. At her age, renovating an old broken down farm, make it viable again.’

‘Cluck’

‘I didn’t say she looked old. Lewis had told us she was the old neighbour’s granddaughter, we just did the maths. Thirty’s old.’

‘Cluck’

‘It is.’ He moves his shoulder, already feeling stiff. ‘No one can just start a new life like that. But she did, and I was jealous of her. I still can’t wrap my head around why she was so… insistent. Why would anyone want to know me? I get it’s a small town and she probably wanted to befriend everybody but… I’m trash.’

‘Cluck’

‘Yeah you would say that, but that’s only because I feed you.’

He starts to truly feel the hard floor on his buttocks, his lower back seizing in a small spasm.

‘Fuck’s sake’ he whispers. ‘Falling into pieces over here.’

He sighs, looks at the wall in front of him.

He broke down many walls in his life, on his own. He never needed help, never asked for help, letting himself fight alone for so long. It was working. Barely. And she came in, told him he could rest, let his bleeding knuckles fall to his sides and stop, when he didn’t even see her bandaged hands.

‘Do you think damaged attracts damaged? That we could have made each other actually worse? She went through hell and was willing to march back in to get me out of it with a kick in the ass.’

‘Cluck’

‘Butt’

He lets his heavy head fall against the wall. On the ceiling, a spider is slowly wrapping its catch, dancing with the breeze on its intricate trap. He sighs.

‘I think I love her’

‘Shane?’

The door slowly creaks, letting Marnie walk in, wrapped in her nightgown, messy hair easily doubling the size of her head.

‘You couldn’t sleep either?’ She asks in a low voice. He shakes his head looking up at her. ‘I’m sorry for today, Shane. I realised I’ve never actually said how…how proud I am of you.’

‘That’s ok’ he exhales. ‘I probably wouldn’t have believed you anyway.’

‘Be that as it may, I AM proud of you, Shane. You’ve made progress I had abandoned all hope of seeing. And, I was happy to see you and Fern together…But’

She leans from one foot to the other, slowly shifting weight, looking at nothing at the back of the coop.

Shane raises an eyebrow.

‘But?’

She sighs, and asks him to come into the kitchen. He puts Charlie safely back on the ground and stands up in a grunt. In the kitchen, Marnie had laid out two cups and was busy getting water ready.

‘Have a seat.’

Shane stretches, groaning at his aching muscles and symphony of bones cracking.

‘It’s a bit early for coffee isn’t it?’ He asks.

‘It’s a tisane. Fern… Fern gifted it to me when I mentioned I was struggling to fall asleep. She makes it herself.’

‘Very thoughtful.’

She slowly pours the hot mixture into Shane’s cup. Immediately he is gently wrapped by the soothing scent of lavender, and the warm comforting notes of orange peel. It’s like he’s in her arms again.

Marnie looks down at her cup, silently blowing the smoke away. She gulps several times, as if ready to start talking, but never uttering a word. Her eyes are steadily moving. She’s looking for the right words.

She inhales deeply.

‘I am only looking out for you, doing what’s best for you.’ She starts, fidgeting on her cup. Shane is carefully sipping on his infusion, wincing at the, frankly, unpleasant taste. ‘Like I said, I was happy to see you and Fern, laughing, working together, even blushing like teenagers. Then you came back from that date. What was it again, four, five in the morning? Soaked by the rain and in a state of panic! And your signature evasiveness. Even had that smell of alcohol on you but, I knew you were sober.’

Shane scoffs.

‘Then why did you go off on me for drinking.’

‘Because! You don’t nee…’ she sighs ‘this is not the point just now Shane ok? I remember the panic in your eyes!’

‘Yeah I…I sorta figured out why I was panicking.’

‘Well, I talked to Lewis about it.’

‘What?’

‘I was scared, I wanted some advice. After all, Fern was still…very much a stranger to me.’

‘And you went to LEWIS?’

‘Not by choice really. But..’ She’s having a hard time proceeding.

‘But?’ Shane is tapping his fingers on the warm cup, impatient.

‘I voiced my concerns to him, there. So he told me he had received a letter from Fern’s family, her uncle, I think. A month before everything was settled with the farm. He was contesting the deed of the land, citing some sort of “”guardianship”. There indeed was a guardianship in place but it had been overruled years before after it had become evident he was not a…good guardian.’

‘How do you know all that? Where are you going with this?’

‘Lewis had to make sure he knew who he was talking to. Obviously learning all that he sent a letter back saying he would have nothing to do with him.’

‘Sounds about right for Lewis, instead of fucking ignoring the guy…’

‘He wrote back once Fern had moved in’ Marnie continues, ignoring Shane’s snarky comment. ‘He was saying how Fern wasn’t stable, how she wasn’t fit for living in a community, and how she had tried to…to kill herself.’

‘...And?’

‘You knew?’

‘Well, I, yes. It came up. Nothing about her uncle being a creepy weirdo though. Wh…What did you do?’

‘When Lewis showed me the letters I couldn’t believe it. I mean, she looked so full of life, so proper, so adapted.’

‘What does a depressed person look like to you, Marnie?’ Shane snaps.

‘Shane, please. I had to be sure. I was worried about you. What she could do to you.’

‘Do to me?’ he repeats, flummoxed.

‘We…Oh Shane please remember I did this for you.’

‘What did you do?!’

‘We went into Harvey’s clinic and looked through her medical records.’

‘What?!’ Shane screams, standing up. ‘What possessed you to do this?! Does Harvey know?’

‘Keep your voice down, Jas is sleeping.’

‘Marnie, wh…I’m…Shit… What made you think this was a good idea?’

‘I did it for you.’

‘Nobody asked you to.’

‘She could have been a very bad influence.’

Shane starts pacing in the room, trying to understand, taking it all in at once. He slowly comes to a stop. ‘Oh Marnie no…N-no…Don’t tell me you went to see her and actually tell her to leave me alone?’

His hand falls on his mouth as he realises. All the times Fern mentioned Marnie. Moreover, how Fern wanting Harvey to keep them a secret was to hide it from her, not because Fern was ashamed of “them”. Shane takes a step back, almost clutching his chest, his breathing becoming increasingly shallow, eyes wide open under scrunched up eyebrows.

‘It was for your own good, Shane.’

‘Was it, Marnie? Was it really? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Fuck I need to go see her.’

He bolts toward the door without thinking.

‘Shane for the love of Yoba look at yourself. Sit down. Sit down! Breathe deeply, please.’

She manages to block him and sits him down. He buries his bewildered face in his hands, struggling to find an adequate rhythm to his breathing. ‘Did she end up at the clinic because of you?’ He asks, muffled by his hands.

‘I thought… I thought once you saw how unstable she was you’d just let her go.’

Shane lifts his head in disbelief.

‘You knew it was an accident and let us all believe she did it to herself?’

‘Well, technically’

‘Marnie!’ he slams his fist on the table, making her jump. But she stands her ground. ‘I can’t believe you and Lewis chose to believe a rotten member of her family instead of seeing her with your own eyes. Since when do you care so much about somebody’s past?’

‘It was to protect you.’

‘From what? How would you react if you learned someone had done research on me to see if I’m “suitable”? To find any black spot in my history? This is fucked up!’

She stays silent, looking down at her thick slippers. She can’t answer, she knows she is in the wrong. The only explanation she’s got for her behaviour is truly from care for her nephew she almost lost.

‘I’m sorry.’ She ends up saying. She stands behind Shane, ashamed.

His hands run back and forth in his hair, speechless, lost. Millions of thoughts are racing in his mind, the past days disappearing into a blurry mess. His own stupid panic, abandoning her in the coop after being so close to her, Marnie’s revolting and insulting visit.

And yet, she kept laughing, lost herself in his arms, tried despite everything. She had accepted him for him from day one and had worked her way slowly to the rotten core. And she was still willing to…Love him?

He shakes his head, why would anyone subject themselves to this? He can’t be worth the effort, he is not worth the effort. Not him. That’s what’s wrong with her.

‘Fuck’s sake.’ He says, falling in his open hands.

Marnie sheepishly put her hands on his shoulders. Her aching heart beats rapidly at the vision of the broken man that is her nephew. All her life she thought she would never be the one to ever beat his already bruised existence. With no children of her own, no spouse, her found family is all she has, and all she would and want to care for. This pushed her to hurt the man she saw growing through too many hardships and heartaches.

And this one was her own fault.

‘I’m sorry, Shane.’

‘I know.’ He answers in a groan, not removing his hands off his shaking hands. ‘My intention were’

‘I know’ He cuts again. ‘I know, Marnie.’

‘I was scared, I do not want to lose you.’

She sits on the chair next to him. Shane lifts his exhausted face, deeply inhales, and turns to his aunt. She’s distraught. Her usually warm and friendly features are covered in tears.

‘How do you think I felt when I learned you had been brought to Harvey by Fern? That she had found you on the edge of the cliff, drunk out of your mind. That Harvey wanted to send you for psychological help. And that no one, nobody, at all, tried to contact me?’

Tears are rolling on her cheeks like two overflowing torrents.

‘You are more to me than the nephew working on my ranch every odd summer, Shane. I’ve always felt so helpless, so useless. This time, this only time, I wanted to take the lead, I wanted to be prepared, I wanted to finally help you.’

She bursts into tears. Shane realises the weight he’s been putting on her aunt had finally crushed her, the weights he had barely any idea he was stacking on her every damn year. ‘Aunt Marnie,’ he starts, not knowing what to do. ‘I-I’m sorry.’

‘No’ she tries to compose herself, stopping her tears. ‘No, Shane. It was incredibly wrong to do that to you, to Fern.’

‘Marnie, you’ve done so much for me. For me and for Jas. I’m hardly, ever, grateful enough. I take you for granted, and I’ve hurt you so many times.’ Silence falls, punctuated by the buzzing of the old fridge.

‘Thank you, Marnie. For everything.’ Shane continues, looking down at his feet.

He hears the shuffling of her nightgown as she stands up and slowly wraps her arms around him. He hesitates, at first, but slowly embraces her.

She lets go first and exhales, a smile stretching timidly on her face.

‘What do you say we both go back to bed, and tomorrow, you head to Fern’s.’

‘If she ever wants to see me again.’ He replies. He did leave her at the hospital in Zuzu city after their fight, after all. At her request.

‘I’m sure she will, Shane.’

Mornings feel like a hangover when you have to rise with the chickens and barely spend your nights sleeping. Shane has been sitting up on his bed for the past hour, looking at the clock. Dreading the passing time, equally impatiently waiting for the alarm to go off.

Thoughts of what he would say to Fern kept him frantically awake. What would she say, how would she react. How her lips pressed on his skin again would feel. These did not help his racing heart slow down.

Should she want him back.

He decides to beat the clock and finally get out of his bed and maybe prepare breakfast, brew some coffee. Something to occupy his mind, other than Fern. Other than the realisation that he, despite all, fell in love with her.

He groans. Love. At his age. After everything. What a joke. And still. He can’t deny it any longer.

The kitchen is still in the darkness, sun barely in the sky and covered by a thin grey coat. Everyone else in the house is still asleep. If he takes care of breakfast for everyone that would give his aunt more time to rest. Then he’ll feed the chicken, and all the ranch residents.

Shane braces himself, and opens the fridge, ready to tackle the day.

A knock on the door. It’s much too early for visitors. Shane ignores it and grabs the pack of eggs. They knock again. Fine.

‘Oh, Shane. Good morning. You’re up early.’

Mayor Lewis' smiles disappeared quickly once the door opened. Shane groans.

‘What do you want?’

‘Is your aunt available?’

‘She’s sleeping.’

‘Oh. Well. I suppose you can help too. I need you and your aunt to take these.’

From the side of the porch, Lewis pulls a caged chicken, sleeping peacefully.

‘W-what’s that?’

‘Those are, ah, were, Fern’s chickens. There are three there, and I suppose you’ll take back in the sheep as well. They’re still at the farm. Shane? Oh de…Be more careful, my foot's covered in eggs!’

No sounds are reaching Shane’s ears. His vision is reduced to a slowly darkening tunnel. He heard wrong. He must have heard wrong. He swallows painfully.

‘Where did you say those were from again?’

Lewis raises an eyebrow.

‘I’ll come back when your aunt is up.’ He clears his throat and tuts. ‘Bit too early to drink, don't you think?’

Shane inhales sharply. He grabs the mayor by the collar and pins him against the wooden wall.

‘Shane!’ He yelps.

Marnie appears behind the open door.

‘Dear Yoba what is this mess! Shane! Shane for the love of Yoba, release him this instant!’

She throws herself at her nephew, he lets the mayor go and fails to take a deep breath. His vision blurs instantly, and he almost falls, clutching his chest. He helps himself up against the wall as Marnie lifts his face up to her.

‘What did you do?’ She throws at Lewis.

‘N-nothing! I just came here to hand over Fern’s chickens.’

‘Fern’s chickens?’ she stutters, eyes wide open. ‘W-why? What happened? Is it her injury? Is she.. Is she…’

Marnie barely manages to voice what Shane isn’t able to articulate at all.

‘No! No! She’s fine!’ A small breath of relief. ‘But she’s not coming back.’

#stardew valley #fanfic #writing #failed writer #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley shane #sdv shane #sad chicken man #fanfiction author #fanfiction writer #fanfics #fanfic writing #fanfic stardew valley #stardew valley shane x oc

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kazanskyed · 2 years ago

Text

heaven in your eyes

pairing: pete "maverick" mitchell x tom "iceman" kazansky

wordcount: 1.1k

summary: a look into mav and ice's first night together in their new apartment. (title taken from heaven in your eyes by loverboy)

notes: fluff <3 this is my first time writing for topgun but it was so fun writing these two idiots. this was inspired by @k9effect's beautiful art and the topgunners discord server. hope you enjoy!! --> p.s. also mav is trans because. i said so.

read on ao3

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When Ice hauls the last duct-taped cardboard box through the front door of the—their, he corrects himself, it’s theirs now—new apartment, the sun has long since dipped silently below the horizon, yielding for the waxing gibbous that hangs delicately from the star-studded expanse of night sky.

The watch on his left wrist tells him it’s just past midnight. They’ve been lugging boxes to and fro all day today: first from their old place to the car, then from the car to the new apartment. The drive hadn’t been long, not by any stretch of the imagination, just a little over twenty minutes all the way from the academy, but they’d had to make two round trips so that they could transport all the furniture and miscellaneous items that had been previously strewn across various surfaces of the old place. That added up to eighty minutes of Maverick sticking his head out of the window like a golden retriever to “take in the sun”, changing the radio station after every other song, and doing his best to get them both into a car wreck by distracting Ice in the driver’s seat in more ways than he’d known was possible (at one point, Ice had had to pull over on the side of the road so he could kiss Mav’s stupid face properly without causing a major collision).

This building isn’t fancy by any means. The place they’ve decided on is twenty or so miles away from Top Gun, far enough away so that it feels like a fresh start, but close enough so Mav can commute to his new job as instructor without much issue. They’re on the fifth floor, a quaint, charming two-bedroom thing that he and Mav had looked at together three weeks ago. It’s dark in the living room now, but as Ice stands in the doorway, he can see light streaming out from across the hallway, where the kitchen is.

“Mav?” he calls quietly, kicking off his shoes. The California summer nights are muggy and warm enough that he’d discarded his shirt at one point while trekking up and down the creaky apartment stairs. Mav had wolf-whistled like the little shit he was when he got an eyeful of Ice’s bare chest, prompting a fond glare from his boyfriend.

There’s no response from the kitchen, and Ice starts forward, the wooden floorboards creaking under his feet. When he peers around the corner into the small galley kitchen, the first thing he notices is Maverick, leaning against the counter, eyebrows furrowed as he fusses with the CD player he’d gotten from Carole as a “house-warming gift”. The next thing he notices is that Mav is shirtless. His white tee has been thrown carelessly over one of the cardboard boxes labeled KITCHEN in Ice’s jagged scrawl, leaving him in just jeans, socks, and a cowboy hat that’s seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

Ice’s heart warms at the sight of him so relaxed. It’s been years since Mav’s surgery, but the other man is still getting comfortable with his own body, so seeing him so at home already, in his and Ice’s shared space, has a smile creeping across Ice’s face (“You’re going soft, Iceman. You’re melting.” “Shut up, Sli.”). He watches silently a little longer as Mav fiddles with the controls on the player, tongue sticking out in concentration, before the first tinny synth chords begin issuing from the speaker. Mav steps back in satisfaction, turning around and starting a little at the sight of Ice leaned against the doorway. In seconds, though, the surprise on his face morphs into a cheeky grin. “Well, hello there, stranger.”

Ice rolls his eyes as Mike Reno starts to croon softly, music filling the small space, but the smile stretching across his face is a dead giveaway of his fondness. “You have the worst music taste.”

Mav gasps, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Take that back.”

“Never,” Ice says, and then he’s striding over to Maverick, pulling the shorter man into his arms as the music swells.

Mav huffs a soft laugh, letting himself be taken into Ice’s arms. He’s like a space heater, has run warm for as long as Ice has known him, and even though it makes sleeping in the same bed during the California summers absolute hell, it’s comforting, especially during times like this. It’s grounding. Mav’s here. Ice is here. They’re both here, in an apartment that they can call their own, together in the sky and on the ground. Ice hadn’t known it was possible to feel this way, so much joy and love and contentment that it aches.

“What are you thinking about, Kazansky?” murmurs Mav, cheek pressed against Ice’s chest as they sway gently to the music.

It might be the fatigue, or maybe the beers he’d had with the rest of the squadron before they’d set out this morning are still running through his blood, but his mouth is moving before he can think too hard about it. “You. Us.”

Any other time, he’d be gagging at his own sappiness, but he tilts his head down and meets Mav’s eyes, sees the all adoration he feels reflected right back at him, and in that moment, he swears that he’d shout love confessions from the rooftops if Mav just asked.

Instead of replying, Mav reaches up, plucks the hat from his own head, and deposits it carefully onto Ice’s. The gesture is strangely intimate—he can feel Mav’s breath as the shorter man shifts his weight onto his toes and leans in so he can reach Ice’s head.

Then he drops back down flat onto his feet and grins wolfishly at Ice, all teeth and sparkling eyes (Ice thinks he’s falling in love for the second time tonight). “There,” says Mav, giving Ice a self-satisfied once-over. “Now you’re a cowboy.”

Ice raises an eyebrow. “My cowboy,” Mav clarifies, and this time, Ice can’t help but pull that face into a kiss. The slow drumbeat of the music seems to strike straight into his heart, shaking the emotion loose. As Mav leans into him, he takes the opportunity to drag his hands up along the other man’s sides until he reaches the scars that span across his boyfriend’s chest. He traces them with two fingers, painfully gentle.

“I love you,” he whispers against Mav’s lips.

Mav throws his arms around Ice’s neck, dragging him down and in closer. “You know I love you more, Tom Kazansky.”

In your eyes

I want to see your love again

In your eyes

I never want this feeling to end

It took some time to find the light

But now I realize

I can see the heaven in your eyes.

#top gun #icemav #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #fanfic #fanfiction #iceman x maverick #i love them #<3 #top gun 1986

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