#it's actually going well so far! seeing more grass sprouting

[gallifreyanconsultingphilosopher]

Now that it's spring I can partake in one of my favourite mindless, relaxing activities: pulling weeds.

Right now I'm really into plucking summer cypress sprouts.

[aquaquadrant]

Why do I feel like Etho and Patho would actually really get along well. Like there'd be a minute of "oh shit" then they'd be making some weird machine together.

Also any chance you would be willing to share the story about Patho's clock and maybe info on Hels Bdubs?

(honestly? true. patho isn’t bothered enough w the concept of being a doppelgänger so he’d be chill w etho if etho was chill with him. and etho’s like. always chill. anyway idk if this’ll answer ur questions but here’s uhhhh something)

~*~

patho pauses at the top of the netherrack hill, boots hissing briefly as he shifts off a magma block.

xyz: -12,485.167 / 67.09835 / 253,295.942

the coordinates ever-present within his field of view tell him he should be another hundred or so blocks away in the z axis, but he can already see the jungle’s grown since his last visit. it’s been slowly overtaking the neighboring nether waste biome for a couple decades, now. rate of growth has held constant, unchanging. that's something, at least.

patho slowly scans the horizon. words and numbers flash across the left half of his vision as his cybernetic eye rapidly processes new information based on visual input: netherrack, netherrack, crimson nylium, grass, jungle wood, jungle wood, jungle leaves, weeping vine. light level 3, 3, 3, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4. there's a lava pool eleven blocks over in the x axis; light level 15.

he starts walking again.

153 fps t: inf fancy-clouds b: 15x15 3 tx 3 rx c: 695/41672 (s) d: 16, pc: 000, pu: 00, ab: 42 e: 23/109, b: 0, sd: 9 p: 18 t: 109 error fc:0 xyz: -12,487.331 / 65.21091 / 253,375.987 block: -12,487 65 253,375 chunk: -780 15 7,835 facing: south (towards positive z)(1.5/5) client light: 5 (0 sky, 5 block) biome: error:nether waste local difficulty: 6.75//0.00 (day error404 not found) sounds: 5/247 + 0/8

the data shifts with every step. he's learned to tune most of it out by now, only paying attention to the biome indicator as he crosses the chunk threshold.

biome: error:crimson jungle

particles and sounds immediately jump up a couple degrees. glowing red specks dance slowly in the air, mingling with the ambient noises; hoglins rooting around in the brush, parrots calling unseen from the canopy above, lava bubbling in a pool nearby.

p: 35 sounds: 23/247

the temperature is warmer here. patho shrugs off his jacket, letting it hang at his elbows as he picks his way through the jungle. he doesn't even need to think about where he's going, coordinates left ignored at the edge of his vision. he's taken this path many times before, and he never has to wander very long.

his boots crunch softly on the nylium and grass terrain. jungle leaves and crimson fungus alike brush at his shoulders as he ducks underneath branches, taking care not to get tangled in weeping vines.

this is his favorite jungle. it's not the only crimson jungle he's ever come across- not to mention the warped jungles- but out of all the biomes he's seen, it's the one with the greenest leaves. something about this jungle sustains the normal trees just as well as it does the fungi, allowing the grass and leaves to stay bright and full instead growing in wilted and brown. it makes a lovely contrast with the blood red fungi.

not for the first time, he's thankful that the jungle is far enough away from spawn to be left alone. if other players knew about this place, with its well-sustained passive mob spawning and greenery, they'd destroy it for resources for sure. but he never worries too much about that possibility, because no mob or player sets foot in this jungle without permission from-

a weeping vine suddenly sprouts from the ground and lashes around patho's leg.

it's quickly joined by several more, snaking out from the undergrowth to wrap around his other limbs. before he can blink, he's lifted off the ground and pulled up into the trees. he doesn't struggle, doesn't panic- this is nothing new to him. the vines string him up among the highest branches, where a familiar figure is crouched in front of him, nothing but a pair of glowing red eyes beneath a heap of moss.

<player>dat -7063fdce-39ac-4a12-d836-a990c45b2bb0

"hey, dbubs," patho says casually.

the figure straightens up, hood falling back to reveal his face. his huge red eyes are sparkling with excitement, despite the dark circles lining them, and his mouth falls open in a wide, sharp-toothed grin. vines of varying shapes and sizes curl lazily around his body, small tendrils sprouting from the mossy cloak he wears. a couple veins of red discolor his skin, crawling up his neck and across his face. his messy hair is a bit whiter than the last time patho saw him, tinged red at the roots. a clock hangs around his neck, to match the one hanging from patho's hip.

"patho!" dbubs practically shouts, throwing his arms out.

sounds: 24/247

before dbubs can say anything else, patho asks his usual question. “what’s your name?”

“what’s my-” dbubs blinks, works his jaw for a second. “GODSLAYER666,” he proclaims loudly, puffing his chest out. then he pauses, frowns. “wait, no, i- i don’t know why i just said that. uh…”

it’s somewhere in the middle, then. not as bad as his worst days- at least he’s aware he’s lying, even if he has no control over it. and patho has to admit, that's one of the most entertaining responses dbubs has ever given to his little test.

"uh huh." patho shifts in the web of vines. they're holding a bit tighter than normal. of course, he could still easily break out of them. if he wanted to. "did you miss me, dbubs?" he asks instead, his voice teasing.

dbubs throws his head back to let out a sharp laugh, sending a shower of red particles fluttering through the air. "what?" he demands incredulously, his eyes blown wide. "miss you? i d- eugh, n'you stupid- i- i didn't even notice you were gone!"

patho hums with amusement. "then you don't wanna, like, kiss me or anything?"

"no," dbubs insists stubbornly, even as he comes closer. he steps boldly into patho's space, hands coming up to grab his face. "no, no of course not, i don't..." his long eyelashes flutter as he looks patho up and down. he smells like moss; like old vegetation and decay. there's soil and dried blood caked under his fingernails. "why would i- you ha- you have a lotta nerve..." dbubs tugs at the left strap of patho's mask, tilting his head. "do i- uh, do i get to see ya?" he asks, expression suddenly eager.

"yeah," patho chuckles.

dbubs grins widely, pulling patho's mask down. for a moment, he just looks at him. his calloused hand scuffs along the metal parts of patho's face- the entire ramus of his left mandible and most of his cheekbone, lost in the explosion that took his eye. the remaining skin is rough with scar tissue. dbubs strokes his thumb along that, too.

"i lo- um, i- i hate your stupid face," dbubs mumbles before he finally kisses patho. he seems to process his words a second later, breaking away with a small gasp of "oh! i d-", but patho simply leans in again, reclaiming his lips.

he knows what dbubs meant.

~*~

dbubs spares patho the trouble of walking, simply having the vines carry him to the hideaway. it's a difficult base to categorize: part tree house, part nest, part garden. in some places the floor is made of wood- in others, just a thick layer of leaves. there are potted plants and hanging vines everywhere, interspersed among stacks of barrels and moldy bookcases. little red mushrooms sprout from walls made of thatch and tree trunks. a couple of shroomlights provide gentle lighting as glittery particles drift through the open air; red, from the biome itself, and green from the spore blossom that patho brought him last year.

the vines unceremoniously drop patho onto the makeshift bed- a mat of moss and old, shredded banners. he's barely gotten settled, pulling his mask up and pulling his jacket off, before dbubs flops onto him with a heavy wuff.

"so!" dbubs starts loudly, propping his elbows up on patho's stomach. "what brings ya to see ol' dbubs today, huh?"

patho huffs a laugh. "what, i can't just stop by to say hi?"

"oh sure, okay." dbubs rolls his eyes, one of his vines flicking through the air dismissively. "you j- yeah, okay, be all secretive, then! see if i care." his haughty demeanor doesn't last long, though, as he shimmies up a little further, arms folded on patho's chest. "d'you- uh, do you wanna hear what i've been doin'?"

patho sighs good-naturedly, shifting so he can tuck his arms behind his head and lean back against the wall. "alright, go ahead."

dbubs beams at him and immediately starts telling lies. he tells patho about all the amazing things he's built (the jungle looks the same), all the incredible battles he's fought (no one's entered the jungle in years), all the wonderful places he's gone (he can't leave the jungle).

but patho doesn't mind that it's all lies. he's content to listen anyways.

they carry on like this until dbubs suddenly pauses, scrambling for his clock. "uh oh! gotta schreep."

patho glances at his own clock; dbubs is right on time, as always. that's one thing he never lies about. "okay, okay," he says, pushing dbubs off- he hits the moss with a soft thump. "lemme get my anchor."

"well, hurry up already!" dbubs shouts impatiently, vines swatting at patho's arm as he pops down his ender chest.

after placing the anchor and setting his spawn, patho reaches up and presses his finger directly into the center of his left eye, shutting it off.

he doesn’t regret putting a data processor into his cybernetic eye; the information it’s given him is invaluable. but every now and then, he needs a break from it. even when his eyes are closed, the display is still active, showing blank values on the back of his eyelid. turning the eye off is the only way to make it go away- of course, at the price of half his vision. so he only does it if he’s sleeping somewhere fully secure, and if he’s alone.

the jungle is an exception. dbubs has full domain out here- no mob or player can come close to his home without him allowing it.

"finally," dbubs huffs as patho settles back down. he's quick to cling with both his arms and assorted vines.

patho can't help but chuckle. "what's that you said about not missing me?"

"oh, shut up!"

~*~

patho abruptly reenters consciousness, emerging from a deep, dreamless sleep. with a soft groan, he fumbles to turn on his cybernetic eye, wincing at the sudden influx of data.

149 fps t: inf fancy-clouds b: 15x15 3 tx 3 rx c: 695/41672 (s) d: 16, pc: 000, pu: 00, ab: 42 e: 1/109, b: 0, sd: 9 p: 52 t: 109 error fc:0 xyz: -12,587.412 / 96.77253 / 253,401.623 block: -12,587 96 253,401 chunk: -783 15 7,845 facing: north (towards negative z)(1.5/5) client light: 7 (0 sky, 7 block) biome: error:crimson jungle local difficulty: 6.75//0.00 (day error404 not found) sounds: 27/247 + 0/8

"goooood morning!" dbubs calls, over on the other side of the little nook. he's busy rummaging through barrels, perhaps trying to find some breakfast. it’s unlikely he has any food stored; when he’s hungry, he hunts, and the jungle always provides.

"mornin'," patho says, rubbing his face. he sits up- and then pauses. there are weeping vines wrapped tightly around his legs. he sighs. “dbubs, you’re doing it again.”

“what?" dbubs manages to sound surprised. "no! no, i’m not, i’m- i’m just over here, minding my own business, crafting a loom.”

“a loom,” patho repeats flatly.

“yes! for um, for banners.”

“do you even have any wool?”

“do i ha- uh, of course! yes, of course i do.”

“can i see it?”

“no. no, i- i just ate it, actually. um-”

“you ate it?”

“yeah. sorry.”

patho sighs again. he kicks the weeping vines away. "i uh, i didn't mean to be gone for so long," he says, rising to his feet. "but, you know, i- i got held up with a job."

"a job?" dbubs glances over his shoulder at patho, squinting. "what kinda job?"

patho stretches his arms above his head, hearing both his natural and mechanical shoulder joints pop. "some guys out west are tryin' to make a portal out of hels."

"a portal?" dbubs's mouth falls open. "oh, for goodness sakes- and you call me a liar!"

patho knows better than to take offense. "it's true. they've got a player who came here from another world."

"uh huh." dbubs scoffs, but he can't quite hide the anxious shimmer in his eyes. "yeah, yeah, sure... so- i mean, did you do it, then? make them a portal?"

"basically." patho shrugs. "i uh, i told them everything they needed to know, to make one."

"right. you told th- okay." dbubs nods, bites his lip. "um- you didn't stay? to see the portal? or, uh…”

patho chuckles, crossing the distance to put his arms around dbubs's waist. "nah. i mean, come on, you know me, dbubs. i'm a- i'm a hels player, through and through. what's the rest of the universe got that's better than this place, right?"

dbubs grins at that, slotting his arms through patho's. "oh, you- you're such an idiot! y'know, i uh, i've been outside'a hels before and i- um, let me tell ya, you're missing out!"

"mhmm." patho smiles even though his mask is on. he knows dbubs can tell.

"yeah! "dbubs nods vigorously. "and, uh, there's- i got a whole world that's just mine!"

"is that right?" patho rests his chin on the top of dbubs's head. "tell me about it."

"it's a beautiful world, of course. my perfect builds, i ha-"

"of course."

"- uh, hey! quit interruptin'!"

"sorry, sorry."

"i di- thank you. so i um, i built a big ol' crastle, with a- hyeugh, a sorta um, horse course... y'know, with th- with the fastest horses anyone ever saw, one-stick horses, and- and uh, everyone was really impressed…”

this won’t last forever. it’ll only be a matter of weeks, months if they’re lucky, before patho won’t be able to ignore the itch to wander again. before the comfort and familiarity of the jungle becomes unbearable. before dbubs grows so used to his presence that the jungle itself tries to overtake him, the way it has dbubs- vines and veins of red.

he’ll leave without warning in the middle of the night, while dbubs is sleeping, because trying to leave while dbubs is awake never ends well. he’ll leave without a word and try not to think about the frantic whispers he knows dbubs sends him on lonely nights, despite knowing patho will never receive them (it’s the only time he regrets fusing his communicator with his arm- but how was he supposed to know he’d hear it in his mind? how was he supposed to know that disabling the chat was the only way not to lose himself completely to the endless flood of data?)

he’ll stay away long enough for dbubs to shatter apart, losing himself to the wildness of the jungle, and come back together. he’ll wait until dbubs has recovered from his grief, so that the next time dbubs sees him there will only be joy. because no matter how many times patho hurts him, dbubs always forgets it eventually.

“… so, you see, ol’ dbubs been workin' on a new technique, using the uh. grade- uh, gradient? block palettes... to create depth. ah hah! so- so listen, now, to teacher! it all starts with the color scheme..."

this won’t last forever. so for now, patho closes his eyes and listens.

error fps t: b: tx rx c: (s) d: , pc: , pu: , ab: e: , b: , sd: p: t: error fc: xyz: / / block: chunk: facing: ( )( / ) client light: ( sky, block) biome: error: local difficulty: // (day error404 not found) sounds: 1/247 + 0/8

~*~

[heygerald]

HEART MECHANICS - PART 5/9

Bradley “Rooster “ Bradshaw x oc

Matty doesn’t make friends easy, but when she loses one of her longest lifelong friends to something beyond her control, she starts to seriously reconsider her life values, wants, and needs. 

Needs like a specific pilot that she can’t seem to forget about. 

Maybe the weight of family ties aren’t so heavy when you have someone in your life who offers to help shoulder the weight. 

Read it here: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / ... / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9

“Well, well, well,” a voice, ragged with sleep and semi-hoarse from singing at the piano for far too long the night before drifts across the empty parking lot. “Fancy running into you here.” 

Matty didn’t even have to look to picture the bemused smile that would be pulling at the corners of Bradley’s lips; didn’t even have to turn her head to catch the crooked grin that he was giving her. But, well, as fate would have it she was already in the process of getting out of her jeep and he just happened to be standing between her and the motorpool that she called her own, which only just meant that she did look at him. 

Did catch sight of the upward turn of his cheeks, the way that his nose crinkled above his moustache, the ever so barely there wrinkles at the corner of his sleep deprived eyes. 

And... oh. 

If that wasn’t exactly what Matty wanted to see first thing in the morning, she’s not sure what would be. A beautiful sunrise, sure. Some dew on the burnt Californian grass, maybe. A blooming flowerbed outside her window with sprouts of white and delicate pinks that she kept an eye out for every spring, of course. 

But Bradley Bradshaw? Well, he seemed to fit into that category just as well. 

“Fancy that, huh?” she mused while climbing out of her jeep. The doors didn’t squeal today—mostly due to the fact that she had removed the doors a few days prior after a bad day at work—and so she didn’t have much to fiddle with as she grabbed her things from the back seat. “It’s almost like this is my place of work that I go to five days a week, on a schedule.”

“You work?” he teased.

“It’s a little early for humor, isn’t it?”

He hummed noncommittedly; took a sip out of some sort of caramel macchiato—whatever that probably cost more than Matty spent on piece of shit phone she carries around.

Which... maybe she should do something about that, but, whatever. 

The parking lot is mostly empty behind Bradley’s broad shoulders. No PT or dogfight football to be seen. “Aren’t you missing a gaggle of minions? I thought you all went on early morning jogs together to build up that team mentality you’re always talking about.” 

“Hardly,” he said, a smooth reply to her teasing that she was beginning to associate with him. Few others could so deftly bat away her insults and still manage to keep the conversation going. Hell, few others would even bother. “Phoenix passed out on the common room couch last night before we could even take off her boots.”

“Harsh.” 

“Coyote hung around way too late at the bar to have gotten eight hours of sleep.” 

“Do you think that Claire ever told him she was a lesbian?” Matty chirps in amusement, thinking about how he had barely left her alone the entirety of the night. 

Sure, Claire had a good sense of humor with a killer smile to boot, but when Matty had finally called it a night, no one had the heart to tell Coyote that he was barking up the wrong tree. Or, well, the heart had been there, but Frank and Matty had made a bet about how long Claire would string along the pilot, so they had adamantly prevented anyone else from breaking the news without prompting. 

“She did,” Bradley said. He was well aware of the bet that stood, and maybe that’s why he seemed reluctant to say, “right before Penny closed down. I actually felt bad for the guy.” 

She didn’t believe that one bit. 

“You could have said something,” she pointed out, if only to be the bitch that pointed out the fallacy in one’s own thinking. 

Based on the way that he eyed her, however, Bradley obviously didn’t think that had been an option. “As if I would get between you and Frank on anything. I saw the way he manhandled you around last night.” 

“There was no manhandling,” she argued. Then added, “and if there was it was me manhandling him. Still, probably wise of you not to intervene. If I lost fifty bucks because of you, Bradshaw, we would not be having a friendly conversation right now.” 

“Oh, so we’re friends now, are we?”

She rolled her eyes at his cheek. There were quite a lot of things that Bradley teased her about the night before, but the longer they sat at the piano together joking about this and that, it had become starkly obvious that somewhere along the metaphorical line of their relationship, they had most certainly crossed territories from strangers into something more. 

Nothing too big, Matty was sure. Nothing serious. 

But, Matty didn’t make friends that often. She liked the group that she had; found it difficult to disturb her current social circle just on the off chance that she might be able to add one more guest to her monthly bar crawl list. Really, she viewed making friends as a relatively pointless endeavor considering how reluctant she was to open up to new people. There were too many stakes, too much time to make up for—stories to share, memories to reveal, trauma to exploit—and so Matty often avoided that first step of friendship as much as she could. 

Yet, halfway through her second beer, she found herself telling Bradley about which base was her favorite to live on growing up. Explaining how she didn’t get along with her sisters—though for amicable reasons enough between the three that had more to do with different personalities than anything traumatic. They had spent the better half of an hour arguing about favorite movies. 

Mostly because she was appalled that he was a die hard Star Wars fan when Harry Potter was a significantly better story. 

At one point they had moved from piano to window seat to pool table to bar and, finally, back onto the Adirondacks that they had started on. 

Now, not even ten hours later, Matty had a hard time pinpointing a single thing that they talked about—just knew how the memory of it all still felt like a warm flower blooming in her typically cold chest. 

Twenty seconds of thought feel like fifteen years, and when Matty blinks herself out of the self-imposed revery, Bradley doesn’t seem the wiser. 

“What about Bob?” she asks, clearing her throat. 

“He disappeared early last night. Not sure why, although if the way that he was stuck in conversation with Boomer was anything to go by, maybe he got scared off.”

“Ah, relax, Booms is more candy-canes and gum drops than murder.” 

Bradley cuts a dark brow, obviously uncertain about that reassurance as well, and Matty brushes on with a flippant wave of her hand. In fact, as she thinks about Bob’s peculiar disappearance from the bar, she’s reminded of the other peculiar thing about the bespectacled aviator. 

“You know, I’m pretty sure that he hustled me last night at cards.” 

“Bob. Hustled you?” 

“Yeah, the fucker. I should have known from the way he had his own pack of cards with him, but he was just so... I don’t know, doe-eyed or whatever. I didn’t want to say no.” 

“You mean you didn’t think that you would lose.” 

She narrows her eyes. He laughs; a low, cool sound that has that itty bitty flower opening up just a little bit further in her chest; petals opening to the sunshine, roots digging deeper upon feeling solid ground. 

“Wh—whatever,” she manages after a moment. It’s a poor excuse for conversation, and certainly lacking in snark. Bradley notices, if the way his gaze sweeps over her features, and the glare she shoots him in response is hot enough to warn him off from even mentioning it. “Just didn’t know the kid had it in him to hustle. I mean, I’m totally going to kick his ass next time I see him, but I’m impressed. At least a little.” 

“I’m pretty sure you were hustling the boys all night,” he argue, unperturbed by the way that her snarl came out of nowhere. In fact, Matty watches his lips curl all the way up his cheeks until she swears that his face is pinched in two. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you and Nick ganging up on everyone at shuffleboard. What’s twenty bucks when you drank for free all night? Not to mention that volleyball game.” 

“The volleyball game was your idea,” she reminds his tartly. 

“Technically, it was Hangman’s.” 

“Hm. Blame all your poor life choices on him, sure. Still, being tricked out of my money by Bob of all people is just plain embarrassing. See if I ever give him dating advice again.” 

“When’d you give him dating advice?”

Matty ignores that question with a prompt flick of her hair. 

She didn’t have the time to wash it last night after getting back to the bar, and so it had been a challenge to get it all stuffed into a regulation worthy bun. And, well, if the long strands tickling her ears on the drive in were anything to go by, she had failed at that. 

She turns to eye Bradley. “What are you doing out here this early anyways? Couldn’t sleep? Bunk buddies snoring too much or something?”

“We get our own rooms, you know. It’s not like we’re in basic training.” 

She harrumphs while slinging her backpack over her shoulder. Of course, in her hurry that morning, she had forgotten to zip it closed, and they both watch as its entire contents go clattering to the ground with a thud. 

“Kill me now,” she mutters. Bradley doesn’t. In fact, the bastard even has the audacity to snicker at her misfortune. All amusement floods his face when her stare becomes more of a glare, though, and soon enough he stoops down to help pick up her things. “And they say chivalry is dead.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re a klutz.” 

“I’m not a klutz.”

“Fine. Walking disaster. Whatever,” he shrugs indifferently while carefully inspecting a crumpled newspaper advertisement she had snipped a few weeks prior offering discounted pottery classes. Under that, sits half a pack of cigarettes and a broken lighter. Bradley takes a single glimpse at the other litany of items before arching a brow at her. “Never would have pegged you for a pack rat.” 

Matty harrumphs and snatches the entire pile of... well, okay, shit that she had been stuffing deeper and deeper into her bag over the past couple of weeks. Still, she has the audacity to play at being offended. “Aren’t you just hilarious? Seriously, Bradshaw, you probably should have considered a career as a comedian rather than hurtling through space at the speed of light. Might have saved yourself some braincells in the process.” 

“Eh, too many critics.” 

She snorts this time, a half-grin betraying the exaggerated eyeroll she rewards him with. Together, they stand. “Who knew pilots were so funny, huh?”

“Who knew mechanics were such good drinking buddies.” 

Together, they laugh. Giggle, almost, if Matty Neven actually did giggle. But she didn’t, and no amount of snarky commentary and good looks would provoke something so abhorish from her. So, instead, she chuckles under her breath while Bradley smirks at her from behind his cup of too-white coffee. 

“You know,” she points out, “I think it’s pretty fucking rude of you to bring yourself coffee without getting me any.” 

“Oh?” he asks, a brow curling into his hairline. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to buy you drinks. Isn’t that the whole mantra?”

“It’s a motto.”

“Hakuna Matata is a motto,” he argues as they slowly begin their crawl across the parking lot. Her, to the motor pool where a long docket awaits her approval. Him, at her side, despite the fact that the PT field was in the opposite direction and the mess hell was even further away. “Pretty sure me not being able to buy you drinks is a law, at this point.” 

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll consider revision,” she says out of the side of her mouth; a mumble, more than anything else, but he’s close enough to hear. 

Of course he is.

And, well, when he stuffs his free hand into pocket of his pants and looks away the rising sun so that she doesn’t see the shit eating grin splitting his cheeks apart, Matty doesn’t even bother to kick herself for saying something like...

That. 

Something flirty, sweet, saccharine to match the smile she had given him. Not like the mean grins she had given him at the Hard Deck upon their first meeting or the nasty snarl that she had chased him out of her garage with. Instead, this is something wholly Matty.

Wholly for him.

“Yeah?” he asks after a moment, his voice lilting at the end.

Matty shrugs. “Well, sure. I mean your friends did have a pretty good taste in the drinks they bought me last night,” she quips. Also because she is a bitch. There’s something teasing in her tone though; friendly and light. “Even Hangman held up his end of the bet and got me a blowjob shot; did one with me too just for the hell of it.”

Bradley scoffs indignantly. “Hangman is a total tool. He was just trying to get you to sleep with him.” 

“Well duh.” 

He frowns down at her. “You knew?”

“He couldn’t even talk to me without looking at my chest,” she deadpans. Bradley considers that for half a second before he scoffs once more; this time though irritation swathes his features in the half-lit morning sun. Matty just elbows him with a crooked smile. “Relax. If he even tried to make a move I would have broken his nose.” 

“Yeah?”

“Sure,” she shrugs. Then, just as easily, adds, “besides, I’m not really into blondes. They tend to have big egos.” 

“You’re a blonde,” he points out. 

“And I have a huge ego,” she tells him simply while twirling a loose strand of hair with her index finger. It’s still bent and bruised—of which their impromptu volleyball game the night before did not help—but she’s since removed the bandages giving her free mobility once more. “Of course, my ego is deserved. I’m the best damn mechanic on base. Not sure what Hangman has done to earn his though.” 

“He claims to be the best pilot.” 

“He couldn’t even serve the volleyball straight.” 

“Oddly, not exactly a skill transferrable to flying a fighter jet.” 

Matty rolls her eyes at his comment as they round the front of the garage. The door has been raised meaning that someone was here, but she doesn’t see anybody milling in the back of the garage so she isn’t quite sure who. 

George, probably. He’s always been the timely one of the group.

“Whatever. Flying jets is not something I ever plan on doing, so I think I’ll let that particular dick measuring contest up to you guys. Although, if I had to guess, Hangman is a teenie-weenie.” 

Bradley, having not expected such a comment so early in the morning, snorts into his drink. 

“And here I thought I was supposed to be the klutz, Bradshaw.” 

He wipes his chin with as much dignity as he can manage. Though, little dots of coffee speckle his t-shirt. No one would notice if they hadn’t watched it happen, but Matty still hopes that the other boys give him shit for it during lecture. Considering how much booze she saw spilled the night before, she thinks the hypocrisy would be amusing. 

“Sorry, I just haven’t heard anyone say teenie-weenie since middle school.” 

“Middle school insults have a timeless quality to them.” 

He shakes his head again but laughs all the same. Matty beams at that; at the rough sound of his voice in the early morning air and the glimpse she catches into who he is beyond this. Beyond the base, the plane, the job, the trauma. Beyond it all, she gets to see the Bradley Bradshaw that still has a middle school sense of humor and likes to forgo toxic masculinity to instead order the fruitiest, creamiest, sweetest drink one could get at a Starbucks. 

And when he glances down at her with a warm gaze, Matty doesn’t know it, but he’s thinking the same thing; enjoying the way that she crinkles her nose when she finds something amusing, how she snorts at her own jokes or speaks without thinking. The Matty behind the coveralls and ink and bruised, broken fingers; the one that doesn’t snarl at every person trying to get to know her but instead smiles at the way she can make them laugh. 

Few see the person behind the pilot.

Fewer even see the person behind the mechanic. 

“Aren’t you going to be late to... I don’t know, whatever it is you guys do this early in the morning?” she asks. There’s an edge to her voice; almost regretting having to ask that question in the first place. In fact, when Bradley calms down from his laughter, she actually feels a bit bad for asking at all. “I just don’t want everyone giving you shit because you’re late. You see how much I get heckled for being late with this group.” 

“That’s because you’re always late.” 

“I’m a very prompt person, I’ll have you know,” she says, nose stuck up into the air. It’s a very clear lie, however, and with the past two weeks of evidence against her, she has to change tactics. ”At least, normally. The past month has been... well, you know. Broken mirrors and spilt salt.” 

“Sure.” 

“I think I’m cursed.” 

“The only logical reason.” 

Matty narrows her eyes at his suspiciously agreeable nature, but he’s already turning away before she can catch him. Sipping his drink, there’s something both relaxed and tense about him. “Besides, it’s not like I have anything to be late to.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Class doesn’t start till nine this morning. That’s still plenty of time for me to get my ass moving.” 

“Oh.” Matty nods because that makes a whole lot more sense than the fact that he’s being dragged out of bed at seven am for a lecture. But then, well, that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense because here he is talking to her well before he even needed to get out of bed. Frowning, she starts, “then what are you—?”

“Jesus Christ, I thought you’d never show up,” someone drawls from the garage door, and Matty whirls around so fast that what hasn’t already fallen out of her bun does so with the plop of some poorly placed bobby pins. Frank, of course, doesn’t seem to give a shit about that. Just arches a brow at her over the top of a steaming cup of coffee. “Glad to see that you are still following the uniform regulations, Neven.” 

“Where the hell did you come from?”

Frank gestures to the back of the garage with a lazy tilt of his head before sweeping his gaze to Bradley. “Did you come to pay your tab from last night? Pretty sure you owe me a hundred after that last game of pool.” 

“Pretty sure that you owe me a hundred after you cheated at the last game of pool,” Bradley shoots back. Matty swings her head between them—so aggressively so that her hair is now a tangled mess at the nape of her neck—but they both studiously ignore her. “Besides, I’m pretty sure that I heard Maverick banning you from betting with anyone.” 

Frank rolls his eyes. “He’s just a sore loser.”

“What? He owes you money too?”

“Course he does,” Frank tuts, voice rough and low in the early morning hours. Swallowing his coffee as quickly as he does when it’s scolding hot probably doesn’t help either. “That asshole has been dodging his IOU payments for four years now.” 

“Oh, he has, has he?” Matty re-inserts herself with the cock of her hip. She can’t quite be surprised that someone had interrupted her conversation with Bradley, but she can at least play offended that someone would then steer the conversation towards the very same bullshit argument he wouldn’t leave alone whenever he got the chance. “Well, you two idiots both owe me for my couch that you ruined last Easter. When’s that IOU getting paid?”

Frank smacked his lips and looked away. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she announces, arms crossed tightly over her chest. This time, Bradley is the one glancing back and forth between the pair like he can’t quite figure out what’s going on. “Anyways, Bradshaw doesn’t owe you shit, Frankie. We both know that you cheated on the last play.” 

Both men turn to her in surprise. Surprise that she would defend a pilot, first of all, and surprise that she had been sober enough to even remember that secondly. 

“You were passed out on the bar,” Frank argues. “You don’t know shit.” 

“I know everything, Frankie-boy,” she chirps with a sardonic grin. It’s much more what Bradley was used to seeing on her face; all tight lines and sharp angles that make her seem almost... well, menacing. “Just like I know that Claire didn’t tell Coyote about her night time proclivities until well after midnight. Meaning you owe me even more money.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“I’m serious!” 

Frank shakes his head at her, before darting his eyes towards Bradley. There’s an uncomfortable edge to Frank—always has been to people that don’t him that well, all hard lines and taut muscle—and beside her, Bradley seems to shift under his weighted stare. 

Regardless. Matty always thinks if people ever stuck around long enough to hear Frank open his mouth they wouldn’t be scared of a fucking moron like him. 

“You makin’ shit up just to get on her good side?” 

“Frank!” 

“I ain’t paying shit unless Claire tells me straight up,” he continues, completely ignoring the seething look that Matty is now shooting him. Bradley catches on to it fairly quickly though; takes a step away from her when he sees the white of her knuckles. “As far as I’m concerned, you can take that debt and shove it up your ass.” 

He disappears back into the garage without another word.

Matty gapes at his absence. 

“Shove it up my—?!” she echoes, shouts, eyes nearly twitching as she watches Frank disappear into the back room. The parking lot is starting to fill up now, and several heads turn in their direction in interest. When they see who it is causing a ruckus, however, most keep on moving. 

“I feel like this is a good time to leave you be,” Bradley drawls. 

She spins to him; her hair is a whole mess now, features even more so as they’re pinched in irritation and exhaustion. It’s a marvel that Matty doesn’t explode on a daily basis from the amount of shit she has to put up with from the very people that she calls her friends. 

“I’m gonna kill him.” 

“You shouldn’t tell me something like that, you know. Plausible deniability and all of that.” 

“One of these days, buddy,” she warns. 

As she retreats into the garage—her home away from home—in search of a specific hick that needs his ass kicked, she can hear the smile on Bradley’s face as he calls after her.

“It’s Bradley!” 

---

The morning sun has drifted low on the horizon by the time that Matty manages to take a break. It’s been a busy couple of weeks that have somehow only managed to get busier with the arrival of Bradley’s group. She doesn’t blame him for it, though. Planes would be her specialty anywhere she went; at least working at Miramar meant she got to suffer through the unrealistic expectations of deadlines with people she considered to be her friends. 

Friends, like Frank.

“You’re not drinkin’ coffee are ya?” he asked as he joins her out behind the motor pool. The pair had stacked some crates in the small square of grass they were given, and since it had become their unofficial spot to take breaks on.

Matty smiles blithely at his question. “The coffee machine is still broken.”

He grunts, offering a water bottle anyways that she takes without any arguing.

A nice silence floats around them. Frank, with his own bottle now half filled with chew. Matty with a cigarette between her fingers stretching her legs as far as she can in hopes of getting rid of the kink in her back she had earned from passing out sideways on the couch last night.

They watch as a couple Humvees meander on by. Some soldiers drift from one parking lot to the next. A lot of people think that military bases operate like they do in movies—fast flying military escorts and booted privates running place to place—but in reality, bases more or less operated at a slow, but steady pace. Everyone had somewhere to go, but no one was in a great rush to get there lest they want to be badgered by the MP for driving too fast.

And now, as the work day was ending, the slow trickle of soldiers had turned into a snail’s pace crawl as cadets left for the day.

Matty always liked to watch them go. Liked to make stupid bets with Frank about how many Mustangs with fresh plates from the local dealership they would see drive by. Sometimes, they would even sit past dinner, when the motor pool was completely empty, just talking about the little things in life.

“Maverick seems good,” Frank drawls after too long of people watching.

Matty simply hums at the observation; not riled up enough to bite his head off for the obvious turn in conversation, but also not feeling particularly chatty after a long day of work.

“Penny too.”

“Penny’s always doing good.”

“Not always,” he banters, sitting forward to spit into his bottle, before scrubbing oil stained fingers through his short-cropped hair.

Matty concedes that much. She can still remember catching Penny at the end of a bad week closing out an even worse month last year. The normally easy-going woman seemed more frazzled than she had ever seen her before. Rumor had it that her ex, Amelia’s dad, had been stirring up trouble for the pair while passing through town with his newest girlfriend in tow. But Matty had never been one for rumors and by the next week Penny had found her smile again.

“Yeah, alright, maybe not always. But she’s gotten it straightened out in the last year. The bar is doing better than ever. Plus, Amelia’s grown into herself.”

Frank snorted. “Since when do you like Amelia?”

“Since she started becoming a funny teenager and less of a moody middle schooler,” Matty shrugged. Frank laughed into his dip, and she gave him a smile in return. “What? Penny knew how I felt about Amelia. She chased me out of the bar more than once for teaching the kid some creative curse words. I don’t know how she does it, honestly.”

“Puts up with you?”

“Raises a good kid like Amelia all on her own,” Matty says while kicking Frank’s leg with a mock scowl. He’s unbothered, of course. Always unbothered when it comes to her antics. And for once she’s fine with that. Matty is enjoying the peace of the day too much to pick up an attitude about anything in particular.

An odd thought for another time, she supposes.

“What’s their deal, anyway?” Frank asks.

“Who—Penny and Amelia? You do know how sex works, don’t you Frankie?”

“Fuck off,” he snorts, rolling his eyes at her cheek. So, okay, maybe she can still find it in herself to bring some attitude to the table. He knows her well enough not to call her out on it though. “I mean Penny and Maverick. They gonna’ get back together?”

“You secretly a romantic or something?”

Frank spits into his bottle but says nothing. Just lifts a dark brow at Matty that seems to speak volumes. She knows him like the back of her hand; which means that she knows he’ll be happy as a clam to sit around all night waiting for an answer to his obnoxiously invasive question.

Matty huffs, but gives in. “I don’t know. Mav doesn’t talk about her that much.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not really sure why you think Mav is secretly a Nicholas Sparks type guy beneath the jet fuel and idiocy,” Matty chirps at her friend. A pair of lime green Camaros rumble down the road past them, momentarily catching her attention, and she smiles at the idea that she might win finally beat Frank tonight at their little, stupid game. They vanish after a few moments, however, and he catches her attention with the nudge of his boot. “I’m telling the truth. He told me a little bit about it at breakfast the other day, but with him... I don’t know. It’s difficult to know when he’s being honest with women, you know? I think he wants to believe that he can be a different guy—a better guy. The type that Penny deserves.”

Frank considers that for a moment before tilting his head at her. “You don’t think he can?”

Matty’s mouth screws up at the sides. “I don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to relationships, Frank. You’re better offer asking Nicky for his opinion. Or Eggy. How Maria hasn’t left his ass yet eludes me.”

“He buys her flowers,” Frank shrugs simply. Then, with a bit of a crude smile, adds, “and fucks her every night.”

Matty scrunches up her nose at the idea of her friend fucking her other friend, and chucks her water bottle at Frank for even suggesting such a thing. “You’re a pig!”

“What? It’s the truth! Eggs won’t shut up about it.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to know, god!” she shrieks.

Frank chuckles at her aversion to the topic, and with a gleam in his eye, he leans towards her on his crate. “Don’t you know how sex works, Matty? They already have one kid. I thought you would have figured it out by now.”

She shoves him away with her boot. He bowls forward in amused laughter.

“I hate you,” she reminds him with her nose upturned. He, however, doesn’t care in the slightest for her insults, and because his laughter is so goddamned contagious, after a few moments her shoulders become less stiff as she lets a couple of laughs slip through her lips as well. “Maybe you should talk to Mav about Penny. I would love to know what’s up with the two of them, but he’s pretty tight lipped when it comes to me. Who the hell knows why.”

Frank, coming down from his laughter, shrugs. “You’re a bitch.”

Matty considers that. Then she shrugs too. “Yeah, alright. Fair enough I guess.”

They make eye contact and the pair are suddenly falling into a fit of laughter once more. It makes it easy to ignore the setting sun and the steady thrum of engines turning down the road in front of them.

It almost makes her miss the call coming through on her phone, too.

She doesn’t miss it however, and when she swings the device up to her ear, she presses answer without even catching the name on the screen.

“Hello?” she asks through giggles.

“Matty,” a familiar voice cuts across the line. It sounds unusually heavy and tense in the midst of their laughter, and maybe their laughter is the exact reason she doesn’t take a moment to consider why.

“Oh, hey Dad,” she chirps. Laughs when Frank lifts a brow at her, and then boots crate as far as she can so that the hick isn’t bent over into her space like he does when trying to eavesdrop on her phone calls. Sticking her tongue out at him, Matty switches the phone to her other ear. “You never call me during the week. What, did you miss me or something?”

There’s a long moment of tense silence.

Matty starts to feel it then; the presence of something beyond herself. The imaginary weight that settles onto her shoulders, the way it starts to slowly press the air out of her lungs.

“What’s—what’s wrong?” she asks.

Somehow, her voice remains steady, but the difference in it is still enough that Frank straightens in his seat all the same. Gone is the humor from his eyes. Now, he seems to be bearing the imaginary weight with her.

She’s not sure why she didn’t consider this.

She’s not sure why she didn’t think of him as soon as she answered the phone. All the same, it takes less than two words to shatter the peaceful space that she had settled into.

“It’s Ice.”

----

The flight simulations go better today than the days prior. Bradley isn’t sure what exactly has made the difference, but when he lands on the tarmac he’s told that he had somehow cut off a whole fifteen seconds from his route. It doesn’t sound like much to people outside of a cockpit; hell, in a normal job, fifteen seconds is nothing to be missed.

But in this job, it’s everything.

He’s almost expecting a pat on the shoulder from Maverick when him, Phoenix, and Bob make it back to the classroom. Their relationship might not have been mended yet, but that didn’t stop Mav from praising Rooster whenever he was given the chance. It tended to bruise his nerves knowing that he was the person Bradley needed approval from in the first place to get this job. Today, however, he finds himself almost disappointed that he doesn’t receive some sort of praise for his efforts up in the sky.

Even if it is Maverick that is offering them.

Alas, Maverick is nowhere to be found as the group is let out for the day.

“He disappeared a couple hours ago,” Phoenix answers his unasked question. Bradley scoffs at it, hoping to hide the fact that he was looking for their teacher, and in response Nat rolls her eyes at him. “Like you weren’t looking for him or whatever.”

“I wasn’t,” he argues.

She doesn’t believe him in the slightest. Bradley, now scowling, swivels his head towards her RIO only to find that Bob is studiously avoiding his gaze like he does when he’s trying not to get involved in an argument.

“Seriously?” he barks. Bob glances at him before darting his eyes away once more as if straightening out his sweat coated undershirt is more important than a simple conversation. “Whatever. I wasn’t.”

“You’re such a bad lair,” she tuts up at him.

Bradley doesn’t even get a chance to argue with that, either, before she swiftly disappears into the woman’s locker room with Halo. He feels a bit puff off at the idea that she clearly won this stupid argument, but then he reminds himself that it is, in fact, a stupid argument and Bradley turns into his own locker room with a shake of the head.

Bob is the only other person inside. Thankfully Hangman and his cohort of idiots are nowhere to be seen. They might have made some steps in cooling down their battle of egos, but the blonde was still unbearable to be around during their lessons. Bradley wonders if some of that has to do with the fact that Hangman must have had—as Matty told him the morning prior—a teenie weenie.

It can’t be an easy thing to live with, afterall.

And suddenly as he’s showering off the day, Bradley is left thinking about Matty. It was almost unconscious at this point. A little bit ridiculous too, how much he thought about her. She wasn’t exactly a diamond in the rough when considering her looks.

Sure, she was pretty. Gorgeous, actually. With white teeth and bright eyes and blonde hair that had been under the sun without protection for just a day too long. Not to mention her long legs. Her perfectly tanned skin. Crooked nose that was somehow cute to him. Lips that curled into a devious smile every time she made a joke that bordered on being insulting to everyone around her. The slight cut through her eyebrow that made her quirk it to the side rather than straight up her forehead.

The tattoo stretching down her back...

So, yeah, okay, Bradley thought she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen before. Whatever.

The fact of the matter was that he wasn’t a shallow guy; something he prided himself on after seeing how much of assholes some guys could be to what they considered to be “plain” women. hat had never bothered him. Never would, either. All it meant was that there were plenty of women for him to pick from outside of Matty fucking Neven. 

So many that he couldn’t keep count anymore.

Plenty that offered their numbers on soggy bar napkins. A handful that would approach him on a night out with a coy smile that suggested nothing innocent. More than enough to keep him occupied for the next couple of months if that’s what he wanted.

The problem wasn’t the lack of pretty girls. The problem was that the only girl he thought about didn’t have any interest in him. 

Because while she was both gorgeous with a killer banter, she was also impossible. She didn’t want his attention; she hadn’t given him her number. She had insulted him and his livelihood in the matter of seconds, but then apologized while sharing something personal that he doubted many people knew. She could have an attitude that was so breathtakingly nauseating to be around, but she could also make him laugh without even trying.

She—

“Jesus, Rooster, hurry up!”

Bradley blinked out of his stupor at the sound of Phoenix’s annoyed voice echoing through the locker room. He was startled at it, but when he turned on his heel—nearly slipping on wet tile—he was at the very least relived when he realized that she was not, in fact, in the locker room with him. Just shouting at the top of her lungs from the hallway.

He turned off the nozzle and wrapped a towel around his torso when Bob was shoved back into the locker room by a pair of tanned hands.

The techie looked flustered about the situation.

“You got a problem?” Bradley asked in exasperation.

“Oh, uh,” Bob rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. His hair was almost dry on his forehead, and suddenly Bradley had to wonder just how long he had been stuck in the shower. “Phoenix is getting a little hungry.”

“Rooster!”

“A lot hungry,” he corrected.

Bradley let out a strangled noise halfway between a huff of amusement and a scoff of annoyance. But, to be fair, he had promised that he would join the duo out for dinner at the local Italian place that Boomer told them about. “Yeah, yeah, alright. I’m coming. Just give me five minutes. Think she’ll last that long before turning into a fucking werewolf?”

Bob darted his eyes to the door. After a moment he must have realized that she hadn’t heard the comment, however, and the techie relaxed with a sheepish smile. “I’ll buy her a granola bar from the vending machine. But, uh, you’re sitting next to her.”

"Yeah, alright.”

They shared a laugh before the sound of Phoenix kicking the door with her boots startled them back into reality. Bradley tossed Bob his wallet.

“Buy her something chocolate.”

---

Whatever Bob had bought Phoenix had seemed to level out her sugar because she was much calmer once seated inside Bradley’s jeep. Not calm enough that she didn’t urge him to drive faster every five seconds, but calm enough that the boys felt confident she wouldn’t bite their hands off for laughing.

The base was getting empty by the time they got onto the road.

Empty enough that Bradley was able to spot an all-too familiar motorcycle sitting sideways in an all-too familiar motor pool parking lot.

Without thinking, he turned in towards it.

“Excuse me, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Little Italy is not on base. you know that, don’t you? You know where we are supposed to be going? Like, right now.”

“Relax, will you? I just want to see if Matty is still here.”

“Rooster, I’m fucking dying back here,” she threw her hands up in irritation. He caught a glimpse in his rearview mirror and would be lying if he said that the look alone didn’t make him re-consider his choice. “You’re girlfriend can wait another day to see your hideously ugly face. I, however, cannot wait any longer to get food. And we still have to drive across town!”

“Hideously ugly?” 

“And going to be even more disfigured when I claw your eyes out.” 

He rolled his eyes at her threat. Phoenix could be down right terrifying when she wanted, but being around Matty had given Bradley an entirely new scale of terrifying women one should not piss off. 

A hangry Natalie was, unfortunately, no longer the top of the scale.

Maybe that’s why he chirped, “you don’t think I’m ugly, Nat. In fact, if I remember correctly, you think I’m a stud.” 

She wrinkled her nose at him. “As if I would ever say that.”

“Oh, but you did,” he snarked while turning the engine off. Phoenix huffed at the accusation, and Bradley nudged Bob with his elbow. “You can even ask the backseater, Nat. You were all over me the other day at the bar. Talking about how we could make cute kids together. It was almost embarrassing.” 

Her eyes widened in horror. “I was not! Bob!”

Bob’s gaze darted between the pair, but as there was literally nowhere for him to run, he didn’t have much choice but to agree. “Uh, well... you might have said something about his, you know, cheek bones.”

“And hair,” Bradley added.

“And hair,” Bob agreed. 

Phoenix practically screeched at the concept; he hadn’t the slightest idea if she were embarrassed, angry, or hungry, but Bradley figured it was best that he not find out in that exact moment. He swung his door open quick enough that the hinges squeaked.

“Five minutes, P,” he said. “Try not to kill him by then.”

“You’re leaving me?” Bob asked at the same time that she shouted, “five minutes or we’re leaving! Wait, Bob! What did you just say?”

Taking that as his cue to leave, he made quick work of heading towards the empty motor pool. A few vehicles still sat in the parking lot. Next to Maverick’s motorcycle was Matty’s jeep. The prior was in such good condition that it made hers look like it belonged in a junk yard.

He vowed to keep that thought to himself.

Mostly so he didn’t upset her, but also so Maverick didn’t go around with a big head at the idea that Bradley complimented something about him.

Frank and Mav were the only people in the motor pool. They paused in their conversation as he approached.

“Hey,” he nodded.

“Hey kid,” Mav smiled. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, though, and Bradley slowed in his walk with a glance around at the empty garage.

“Is, uh, Matty here?”

Frank and Mav shared a look, before the former shook his head. “Nah.”

“Oh,” he paused. “Isn’t that her jeep outside...?”

It was. Obviously he knew that. Obviously they knew that he knew that.

Frank crossed his arms while leaning onto the tool bench behind him. He seemed unusually tired; almost somber as well. It was an odd look on the mechanic’s face. Though they didn’t know one another all that well, Bradley had never seen him without a troublesome twinkle in his dark, hard eyes.

“She’s not here,” Frank rasped. “Sick day.”

He almost took that response at face value; almost turned around and went off to dinner with his friends in tow, but there was something off about the atmosphere that had him considering the pair suspiciously. Maverick squirmed a little under his stare.

“What are you doing here, Mav? Phoenix said you took the afternoon off.”

“Yeah, uh, I... wasn’t feeling all that well.”

“You’re sick too?”

Maverick cleared his throat. “Something like that.”

And, yeah, there was definitely something going on. Something that settled in the air between the three that did not feel right. Maybe him and Maverick didn’t have the best relationship in comparison to what they once had. Maybe him and Frank’s relationship didn’t exist outside of teasing one another and sharing a beer at The Hard Deck. Maybe it was odd for them to be together in a conversation without the one thing they had in common.

Matty.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t able to feel that something was up. 

“Is everything all right?” he asked next. It wasn’t just weird because she wasn’t there. It was weird because every mention of her seemed to stiffen the men up even more. “Did something happen with Matty?”

“No,” Frunk grunted at the same time that Mav said, “she’ll be fine.”

“Be?” Bradley echoed.

Frank leveled Maverick with a scowl that might have made a lesser man buckle, but the pilot just gave a half-shrug in response as if to say what?

“Okay, seriously. What’s going on?”

“Nothin’ is goin’ on,” Frank affirmed. “Matty’s fine. Just sick. She’ll see you when she sees you Bradshaw. Same with you, Mav. Fuck off and let me finish the docket now, yeah?”

“You’re a shit liar, Frank.” 

Frank pushed off the tool bench. “What’d you say to me?”

“Alright, alright,” Maverick stepped up too. He was relatively small compared to the two of them due to the height difference, but he was not in any sort of way someone that could be considered weak. Because of that it was easy enough for him to force the boys apart without any blood drawn.

Though, Frank still looked like he might be out for it.

“Maybe we should just tell him.”

And, shit, Frank was about to get it if the scandalized look he shot Maverick was anything to go by. Actually, it was hard enough that Bradley almost took a step back just to put some more space between them. He hadn’t quite believe Matty when she joked about Frank being nothing but a guard dog; right now, though, it was fairly obvious where his loyalty lied.

“If she ain’t tell him, then that means she don’t want us fuckin’ tellin’ him either, Mav,” he snarled. Maverick swallowed thickly, but somehow kept that lightness to his movements that he was known for. Always joking, even when there was nothing to joke about. “You know best of all how she feels about this pilot shit. She just needs time.”

Nothing they were saying made any sense.

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Bradley asked.

The pair continued with a silent contest of wills to the point that he was almost beginning to wonder if he was invisible.

“And you know best of all that she need someone who understands right now,” Maverick pointed out. His voice was low, tight, and heavy. Not anything like the easy-going guy that Bradley knew growing up. “Hollywood can’t give that to her. I can’t give that to her. And you can’t either.”

Hollywood?

Bradley kept that particular thought to himself; instead, he clung to everything else that Mav said about him, thought about the little piece of truth that Matty had shared with him at the bar the other night.

“Her dad,” he said. Both men turned to look at him. Frank still looked pissed off. Maverick looked surprised. “Is this something to do with him? She said that he was a pilot.”

The surprise ebbed to sadness.

Frank’s ebbed to curiosity lingering in the depths of dark eyes. “She tell you about that? About him?”

“Just that he was a Navy pilot,” Bradley said. He was still clueless to what this was all about, but hell if he wasn’t determined to get to the bottom of it. “Said that they were always moving around when she was growing up. And, uh, that he’s some big hotshot. Is he okay? Is Matty?”

He wasn’t sure what he said that was right, but something surely was.

Frank lost a little bit of his anger; calmed down a little bit as he returned to his slouched position on the desk. Maverick, for some reason, took that as a positive sign.

Turning to Bradley, he sighed. “Do you know where she lives?”

“What? No,” he shook his head in confusion, then annoyance when they continued to stare at him silently without giving much of anything away. Bradley squared his shoulders at them. “Are you two going to tell me what the fuck is going on or...?”

Maverick turned to Frank who, after a long moment, just gave a jerky nod. He seemed defeated about the entire situation, but when he met Bradley’s gaze, there was a whole lot of concern in his eyes as well.

“She’s probably gonna fuckin’ come after me when you show up at her door, but Mav’s right...” he rasped. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Frank started to explain, “there’s something that you should know about Mats...”

---

It’s late when someone knocked on her front door.

Maybe not so late that it’s unusual for her to have visitors, but late enough in the day that the sun has already begun to set beneath the horizon. The lights in her house are dark, though, so she’s left to wonder who might be coming by to bother a lonely house with no evidence that someone in inside. The driveway is empty too seeing as how she had gotten a ride home from Frank the night before with no intention of getting her jeep back any time soon. 

All of which mean that whoever has come to bother her has done so knowing she was home with no intention of accepting visitors.

There’s a short list of who that could be.

They knock again. The list gets shorter.

Matty is in no mood to see anyone. No mood to entertain friends that have come meaning well, but that would require some sort of effort on her behalf. Frank is the only person from work that has seen her cry before. The only person she trusts to visit in a time like that, but she knows for a fact that whoever is here isn’t him.

He had spent the night before sleeping on her couch. The pair cuddled up beneath too many blankets with a stupid movie on in the background. Though the best friend she has, even Frank has limits on the amount of crying he can handle, and she’s well enough aware that she crossed the limit last night.

So no. He wouldn’t have come a second night in a row.

When they knock a third time Matty has half a mind to scream at them, but her throat is too raw to do any good yelling. Instead, she trudges from her spot on the couch to the door.

Sighs. Wipes her face. Opens it only to find—

“Matty. Hey.”

Bradley Bradshaw stands on her front steps with an awkward look on his face. He doesn’t manage a smile—which is good because neither does she—but he doesn’t seem angry either. Just...

There.

“What are you doing here?” she blurts out.

There’s no usual bite to her words. Nothing flirty or snarky or sultry. Just a croak that makes it obvious she’s been crying for roughly twenty four hour straight.

Which is fucking horrifying.

Bradley Bradshaw is the guy she has placed on the back burner. He’s fun to be around, someone she thinks about often, the first guy in forever that she’s actually considered the possibility that she might have genuine feelings for outside of wanting sex. He’s a good friend that she’s earned in a few short weeks. He’s someone who she’s pushed herself to be honest with even when she doesn’t want to be.

He’s not the sort of guy she cries in front of.

Matty moves to swing the door shut in his face because—what the fuck else was she supposed to do—when Bradley stops her with a boot wedged into the space.

“Neven,” he says. “I never even realized that your last name is Neven.”

And.

Fuck.

Matty slowly opens the door back up. He owlishly blinks at her through narrowed eyes, an impressive feat really. But he also looks like he has a lot on his mind that she doesn’t really want to hear in spitting distance from the sidewalk.

Maybe that’s why she sighs. “Shut the door behind you.”

He does.

And suddenly Matty Neven is coming face to face with the reality that her family name ties her to a lot more shit than she ever wanted to consider.

---

“Here.”

The mug that Matty offers to Bradley is not one that should host two shots full of cupboard whisky. It’s a splatter of pink and purple with a faded image of Hannah Montana on it; a gag joke from Claire for her birthday a few years prior that had certainly been found in the back of a thrift store, but something that she had always loved to make hot cocoa in for the irony of it all. Now, as she holds it over to him, it feels stupid, childish, and wrong.

He doesn’t care though.

In fact, he gives a quiet laugh as he accepts it from her hands. The ugly appeal of it doesn’t prevent Bradley from taking a long swallow of the amber liquid inside.

She likes that about him.

Matty sits down on the chair opposite him. It had been awkward when he first walked inside her house. Few people were ever invited over to her place. It felt like a personal invasion given how much memorabilia she had tacked up on every empty space of her walls. Bradley’s eye caught on more than one picture of her with Hollywood and his friends.

That’s when she had asked if he would wait on the screened in porch for her. There was a long moment of hesitation before he agreed. 

Maybe he saw the haunted look in her eye. Maybe he didn’t want to see the memories anymore than she did.

“Who told you?”

“Frank.”

“Frank?” she echoes. Her first instinct isn’t even to be angry at her friend for spilling a secret that wasn’t his to keep. Really, she’s more surprised than anything that he would trust Bradley enough to share it.

“And... Mav,” he tacks on with an uncomfortable look. Almost like saying the guy’s name left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Oh,” she says lamely.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a blithe nod.

Nothing else is said for a long, drawn out minute. Matty is silent because she’s not sure what she should say that could make any of this better; she hadn’t even been the one to share the secret with him, so she wasn’t sure how to approach the topic of it at all. Bradley is silent for a litany of reasons that she can’t comprehend just from looking at him.

She takes a long swig of her whisky—this in a chipped mug she had for far too long—before deciding to just get it over with. “Just ask me already. That’s why you came here, isn’t it? To talk about it.”

He doesn’t say yes or no. Just fixes her with an unreadable stare.

Eventually, however, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“That Hollywood was my dad?”

“Or that you knew Maverick before all of this. Or that you knew me before all of this—you knew my story, my dad, what the fuck I went through. Why didn’t you tell me, Matty? Why did I have to find out that your dad is fucking Hollywood from Frank? Was it some sort of game to you?”

“Of course it wasn’t.” 

“Then why? Why keep it from me? Why make a big deal out of how you hate pilots when you knew damn well that my dad died in a fighter jet in school right alongside yours?”

“What exactly would have changed if I told you?”

He scoffed. “Everything!”

“Do you think that we would have instantly become friends if you knew?” she shot back. He scoffed again, and Matty quirked a brow at him with a sharp scoff of her own. “What would have changed? Would we have made friendship bracelets for each other? Had movies nights where we talked about it? Would you have wanted to hear stories about your dad that I heard from my dad?”

“Of course not,” he rasped.

“Then what? What would have changed?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so fucking angry at you right now, Matty!” he shouted. The intensity of his anger surprised them both. Matty sank back onto her seat, hands clutching at the mug in her hands because she had nothing else to hold onto, and Bradley quickly turned his eyes away towards the dark yard.

There was nothing to see.

She didn’t remind him of that.

Instead, she said, “it’s my life too, Bradley. You don’t get to decide what I get to keep to myself and what I have to share with you.”

“This is different than you not telling me about your ex-boyfriends,” he snapped. It was a fair difference, she had to admit, but it wasn’t something she was about to let him play the victim over.

Not now. Not like this. Not after Ice...

“I don’t tell anyone about him. You’re not special in that regard.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“It’s supposed to make you understand me better,” she corrected him. Her tone was sharp enough now that he paused upon hearing it. A heaviness settled in the air between them that Matty resented him for bringing. Then again, she had bore a heavy weight on her shoulders for years now because of her dad. He was probably the only person that felt that same weight. “My dad pinned me at my commissioning ceremony. Ice was there with his wife, clapping along with everyone else. I was so happy. So excited that I managed to make my dad proud without following in his exact footsteps. I got the chance to do what I wanted and still make him happy. It was the best of both worlds.”

He settled in his seat as she spoke. 

Though, he seemed no happier. Maybe it was the bitter reminder that his dad hadn’t been at his ceremony; hadn’t pinned him, hadn’t been proud of him.

“The moment they left, my unit started calling me Baby Nep; short for Baby of Nepotism. People asked me for favors from Ice. Guys in the motor pool would corner me when I was alone asking for... less than savory favors. They figured out pretty early on that I wouldn’t complain about anything to anyone because I didn’t want word getting back to my dad or Ice. I wouldn’t even complain to my Captain because I couldn’t fucking stand people making accusations that I didn’t belong where I was.”

The thought of that first year in the service made the room seem so much hotter, the air so much heavier. It had been a dark time in Matty’s life that had heavily skewered her image of what a Naval career would be like.

But things got better, she reminded herself with another sip of whisky, and she decided to cut the rest of that story short to focus on the bigger issue at hand. 

“I am... I’m sorry that I wasn’t the person who got to tell you about my dad,” she croaked. It was as close to crying as she had ever been in front of Bradley, and the change in tone had him glancing at her in surprise. “I’m sorry that I fucked up... whatever this is that we have; whatever sort of fucked up friendship we’ve made. But I’m not sorry that I didn’t tell you right away. I choose to keep my relationships to myself.”

“That’s not a very good apology,” he argued. 

“I’m not going to give you a fake apology just to make you feel better,” she told him incredulously. A thought came to her then that she didn’t hesitate to share, even if if did make her a bitch. “And if I remember correctly, you didn’t exactly tell your class who your dad was either.”

“That’s different,” he argued. 

“How?”

“It just—it just is,” he said. The hotness had bled from his voice though. The resolve to stay angry at her going with it if the somberness of his gaze was anything to go by.

Maybe because they both knew it wasn’t different.

Matty sniffled when she felt her eyes getting too heavy with tears and she quickly turned away. She didn’t want to see Bradley anymore; didn’t want to sit in the heavy presence of all the times she had fucked up in the last couple of weeks. Didn’t want to feel alone when sitting with someone she thought understood her. 

"Well, now you know,” she wiped at her face with a bitter chuckle. She managed a bit of her signature sass even when she waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the door. “So, feel free to leave or whatever. I’d rather cry alone where no one has to see me with snot bubbles, thank you. My mirror tells me that I’m an ugly crier.” 

“Matty, I—”

Whatever he was going to say got stuck in his throat. Matty sipped on her drink while she let him figure it out. She wasn’t sure why, though. He was going to leave and she was going to be left alone.

Things would go back to normal.

“I’m sorry.”

It took a minute for her to realize what he just said, and when she whipped her head towards him, he seemed to grimace at the audacity of it as well. In fact, he finished the last of his whisky while managing to studiously avoid her gaze.

When the mug was empty there was nothing to occupy his attention, however, and she watched him trace the faded writing with his thumb.

“I... you’re right. It’s not that different. I shouldn’t have come over here just to yell at you when you’re—” Bradley caught himself before he finished that sentence. He gave her a wary look. Maybe he expected her to bust into tears at the mention of her mourning or maybe he just didn’t know how to act when she was being vulnerable rather than vulgar. Swallowing, he tried again. “Maverick said that you were close with Ice. Is that... true?”

Matty started picking at the loose hem of her sweater. “He was my godfather.”

He said nothing as she collected her thoughts.

“He was around from the minute I was born. Him and dad were always deployed together, so when one was gone the other was, but Ice didn’t have kids for a while. For him, coming home he got to see his wife, and he got to see me. He always joked that I was the one that convinced him on having kids of his own.”

“Sounds nice,” Bradley commented quietly.

She gave a bubbly laugh through the barrier of tears she was barely managing to hold at bay. Honestly, Matty was surprised that she still had any left to shed at this point. “My mom kind of hated him. He taught me my first curse word, taught me how to throw a punch. He would even take me out of school every once in a while just so we could so something fun. Dad loved it. Of course he did. He was ecstatic that Ice and I got along. Over time, of course, we spent less time apart. And then he got sick...”

“I didn’t even know that he was. Mom never mentioned it.”

“He kept it a secret the first time around,” she nodded. It was just like Ice to keep something such as a terminal illness to himself. Still, she didn’t blame him. Everyone had a version of themselves they presented to the world. Weak was not a word in Tom Kazansky’s dictionary. “This time he got sick quicker. Kept it quiet while he could. I visited whenever work allowed, but... he didn’t like people seeing him like that. Said he wanted to let us keep the good memories without the bad ones.”

Bradley seemed to understand that, in a weird sort of way.

“I met him a couple of times,” he admitted.

Matty hadn’t known that. She sat up at the idea. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he said with a half smile on his face. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but she appreciated the effort anyways. It made her smile all the same. “He took me and mom out for lunch once or twice while I was growing up. I mean, not just him. Maverick was always there too, but... he was nice enough. From what I remember, anyways.”

“The only person I’ve ever known to be more charming that Maverick.”

“Mav might take some issue with that statement,” Bradley chuckled.

Matty shrugged. “He knows. I’ve told him on more than one occasion over the years that Ice was the better pilot between the two.”

His smile halted. “About that...”

Matty’s own smile shrank upon realizing what he was asking. She glanced down at her mug only to find it empty, and with a defeated sigh, she answered his unasked question. “Mav and I have known each other for a while. Definitely not for as long as you knew him and definitely not as well, but... he tries to check in when he can. I think he started making an effort the first time around that Ice got sick. I guess it scared him.”

Her answer didn’t appeal to Bradley who glanced away with something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite place. Though, it wasn’t hard to guess what it was about.

She knew that Maverick had done something stupid to mess his relationship up with Bradley; knew well enough just from the look that Mav got on his face every time she brought up the incident. He had never told her the entire story, though, and while she respected his privacy, part of her was desperate to hear it.

But not now. Not like this.

“Can I ask you something?”

That got his attention. “Since when are you bashful?” he barked in surprise.

It was so out of the blue that Matty actually laughed in response to the scandalized tone of his voice. He must have realized how it sounded too because she caught a blush redden his cheek before he tried to cover it up by running a hand through his hair.

“I mean,” he cleared his throat. “Sure. Just didn’t know you could ever care enough to ask for my opinion first is all.”

Another time she might have shot back with something snarky and mean.

“It’s a touchy subject for us both,” she said instead, surprising him even further with the gentle tone of her voice. This time, however, Matty was the one to blush. She looked away hoping that he didn’t see it at all. “It’s stupid anyways.” 

“What is it?”

She hemmed a bit. Then, with a sigh, bit the bullet knowing that she couldn’t make a bigger ass of herself than she already had managed today. “What was the moment that made you realize you wanted to become a pilot?”

“What sort of question is that?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. She didn’t have a clue where it had come from, but as she took the time to actually tell him about herself—a rare opportunity indeed—Matty was struck with the peculiar urge to know. She hadn’t become a mechanic to spite her dad, despite what some people thought, and she hadn’t joined the Navy to please him.

A single choice that negated all expectation.

A choice like that could tell a lot about someone. Matty was probably more shocked that she wanted to know so that she could try to better understand him than she was surprised to have asked at all.

Whether or not he understood that urge, Bradley still considered her question.

It was difficult for them both without whisky. Difficult to have a serious conversation while sober, but harder still to have it under the never ending weight that settled upon their shoulders the moment he showed up at her door.

Difficult but necessary. Self-inflicting but important.

“When I was fifteen, Mav picked me up after baseball practice and took me out to get some dinner at this nearby pizza place,” he started softly. “Mom was working late that night so we didn’t have to hurry back. We just there in this plastic covered booth for hours. I already told everyone that I wanted to grow up and be just like my dad by then. Everyone knew.”

There was a faraway look in his eye.

It was nothing next to the soft smile pulling at his lips.

“I asked him about his job, why he was gone for so long, stuff like that. He couldn’t tell me much and, well, you know Mav. He tried to tell all the fun stuff. I didn’t care about that, though. So, I badgered him with questions and... he got this goofy smile on his face talking about flying with the others. Merlin, Ice, Hollywood. He was so proud to be up there with them. I knew right then that he didn’t care if he was shot down tomorrow. He just cared about being there with them. These people that understood him more than anyone else ever could.”

He abandoned fiddling with the mug to meet her gaze.

“I wanted that,” he told her truthfully; so honestly that it almost made her want to turn away. “I didn’t care about the awards or fame. I just wanted to have a chance at being understood; at making my own family from people all around the world who thought like me. That’s why I did it. And then Maverick...”

The smile turned sour, the light in his eyes darkening to the point that Matty could no longer see it. Whatever Maverick had done, it was obvious that it had a lasting impact on who Bradley was as a person—it had hurt him unlike anything he had felt before.

Matty knew that hurt.

Maybe not the reason, but the pain. She could feel it tightening her chest when she woke up that morning to the sun already streaming through her windows. She could feel it when heard the sorrow in her dad’s voice when they spoke about the funeral plans over lunch. She could feel it like a ghost dagger in her side as she had to stare at pictures of her and him smiling through the years.

Matty Neven knew that pain better than anyone else.

And somehow, despite all of that, Bradley Bradshaw gave her the ability to smile even when drowning in the midst of it.

“Look, I suck at cooking and I only have shitty whisky, but... if you want to stick around for a little bit I was gonna order a pizza. Probably get a little bit drunk. I could even tell you some stories that Ice told me from the academy. There’s more than one about Maverick making an ass of himself in front of women.”

An olive branch.

Hell, it was so much more than that, but Matty didn’t really want to consider the reasons that she was so hell bent on fixing things with a guy who she swore she didn’t like at all.

“A total ass?”

“The biggest,” she rasped.

“Yeah, I think I can manage a few stories,” he said after a moment of contemplation. “I skipped dinner to come here anyways.”

“It’s only fair.”

It was.

It was the fair thing to do. Bradley had come to confront her and somehow ended up comforting her at one of the darkest moments in her life. More than that, but he knew. Maybe having someone around that she could connect with wasn’t the end of the world.

“So long as pizza and whisky doesn’t make this a date,” he quipped. Matty raised an eyebrow at him for the oddness of his joke, and Bradley managed a genuine smile in return. “You are a Neven, after all. I think my dad would turn in his grave if he knew that I was fraternizing with the enemy.”

Matty threw her head back with a laugh.

Maybe, she thought as he ordered them some pizza with extra pepperoni on top, she liked him a little too much for comfort.

*** taglist (thanks for asking!) @callsignbarb @coyotesamachado​   @shanimallina87   @luckyladycreator2 @olivethenerd16 @alanadetigy​ @the-winter-marvel33​ @hiddleless​ @momc95 @alanadetigy​

I have absolutely no excuse for taking so long to put this chapter out other than life? Life is a reason. Kind of. But I am back with an update! Hope you like it (and hope you haven’t forgotten the story by now). 

[baronfulmen]

"I don't understand," Greg said as he stared at the little green army guy in his hand. It was missing a leg, and crusted in dirt in that way where you knew it was permanent somehow.

I shrugged. "It's an old lost toy. Not really a lot to understand." I was sitting on a low wall that divided the park from the quaint little "downtown" area, watching a squirrel zip around doing nothing in particular. Greg looked up at me from his spot in the grass and furrowed his brow - he clearly thought I was being difficult.

"Lost by who? When? There has never been a child here. Nobody ever lost a toy in this park." "Yeah, okay. And? There's also not really air or grass or whatever, but I don't see you complaining about any of that," I said, but this didn't seem to make Greg happier. "That's different, and you know it. And speaking of grass, it's all... patchy." "It's not patchy. It's... I mean, there are patches -" "Which means they grass is..." "- but it's not patchy. A few very small variations in the density of the grass doesn't make the whole park patchy. Next you're going to get upset about the dandelions." "Actually, yes. They're weeds. They don't belong in the park. There's a field, I think, somewhere past the edge of town? You can put dandelions there."

He stood up, and then looked down at his knees in dismay. "Why are my knees dirty?" "You were down in the dirt." "Yes, but surely we don't need dirt to get things dirty. You're trying too hard. Make it cleaner, get rid of the weeds and patches, and no more lost toys or old bottle caps or whatever else you've done with my town."

Greg walked out of the park, and I swiveled on the wall to step off onto the sidewalk. He hadn't gone far before noticing some more weeds and grass sprouting around the bottom of a lamp post, but he just sighed and shook his head. We continued on, and Greg made mostly positive comments about the shops. "This is good. I like this. Wait, why is there a hardware store?" "In case someone wants tools, or some wood, or... you know, stuff you'd find in a hardware store." "I… why would… I have several problems with this, I don't really know where to start. The diners I understand. People want to sit around a table together and eat something. Fine. The book shop I know was a demand from Karen Hawthorne, so that makes sense. But the hardware store... why would we need a hardware store?"

"Well strictly speaking we don't need any of this shit, Greg." "Language." "Sorry. Strictly speaking we don't need any of this fucking shit, Greg." "You're exhausting." "The feeling is mutual. Look, you wanted this town to feel like... well, a town. Right? And that means shops, but the only ones I was told to put here were the restaurants, the book shop, and an art gallery. There's the theater too, and the banquet hall, but if you want it to be a town you need other stores. Why not a hardware store? People might want to make something with their own hands instead of having it handed to them." "But why?"

I didn't answer. We walked past some of the other businesses I'd put in, the arcade and the mini golf place and the record store. Greg looked more annoyed at each one, but he lost it when we got to the thrift shop. "Absolutely not." "Why?" "A thrift shop? There's no money. We can have anything we want! Why would you go get used clothes, when you can have brand new outfits every day forever?" "Because it's... I don't know, it's fun to poke around in a thrift shop!" "Just... get rid of it." "No."

Greg froze. "No? No? I'm your boss, you remember that right? I've been very patient with you so far. You've filled my town with weeds and trash and god knows what else and you're going to remove all of it including this thrift shop." "I put a lot of work into that." "You shouldn't have." "The stock is procedurally generated, I scrubbed the archive of eBay and trained an AI specifically to -" "I don't care. It's gone."

We walked a little further, and when I realized what was coming up on our left I took a deep breath and prepared for the outburst. Instead, when Greg saw the abandoned house he just sighed, and shook his head. "We're done here. You're fired. I'll have someone else deal with fixing all of this, or... I don't know, maybe we'll start from scratch. I don't know where that leaves you, technically you're only in this neighborhood because you were hired on as a designer so really I should be disconnecting you, but with communications down I don't know if there's even another neighborhood left to send you to. I don't know. I can leave you with a house, somewhere. Something simple, so long as you don't cause trouble."

Greg pulled up a menu, options glowing in the air in front of him. But when he attempted to select something there was a red error window that popped up. "Greg, editing is currently locked. If you're trying to revert the neighborhood to the default model it's not going to work." "Well log out of the editor, or whatever you need to do." "Ah. Yeah. Okay so here's the thing, it's not that I'm actively editing - I've just set permissions in a way that only members of the design team can change things. And I'm the only one on the design team."

He rolled his eyes, then went back to work flipping through menus. "Well, I'll just put myself on the design team and... wait." Another red error window had popped up. "Yeah, also I made it so you can't do that." "I'm in charge of this virtual community, I can do whatever I want." "I mean... yeah, originally. But then you made your nephew the head of IT and he's incompetent. So when I kept asking him to do things for me so I could get this place designed he got lazy and gave me full access. And then I put myself in charge. Because of course I did."

"If you don't put me back in control, I'll..." He just trailed off. There was no way to end that sentence. Communications were cut off, which meant probably the bombs had started flying out in the real world. It was just us, two thousand two hundred and sixty-one people in a virtual town. And none of them could make me do anything I didn't want to do.

"Greg, listen. I'm not trying to be an asshole. I genuinely think that most people will enjoy themselves more if there are little imperfections around here. A spooky old abandoned house, an overgrown car in the woods, a lost bag of marbles under the porch as if they belonged to a previous owner. It's not just weeds, Greg. There are caves up in the mountain, with fossils and an old mine and even reproductions of some actual prehistoric cave art. There are rotting stumps covered in cool mushrooms. There are secrets. There are stories. I promise, this is what you need. We're here forever, Greg. Perfect lawns get old."

His face was turning red, bordering on purple. That was me too, the default limits on facial expressions made it seem like everyone was pumped full of botox. He finally managed to get some words out through gritted teeth, "I swear I will find a way to remove you. Physically. I'll have the maintenance bots rip your brain out of the array and throw it into the compactor."

I nodded. I'd expected nothing less, but had hoped that Greg wouldn't force my hand so quickly. "Okay. Yeah, do what you gotta do." It wouldn't be easy for him, probably wouldn't even be possible at all, but you never know. "I'll leave the default neighborhood model running, it's missing a lot of the features people have asked for and it's extremely... well, flat, but the lawns are perfect so maybe you'll want to just stay there. I think over time you'll come around to my way of thinking."

He teleported away, and I wandered off down the street - feeling the cracked and uneven pavement beneath my feet and smiling.

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - Art Museum

*Warning Adult Content*

Emmett Locke couldn't remember the last time he'd actually been excited about a date and spent most of the ride over to Finnegan Walker's apartment, trying to remember the few he had been on. Even better, it was Saturday afternoon so he had the rest of the day and all day tomorrow off from work. Topping off his great mood was the fact that the Walters Art Museum had a photography exhibit going on until the end of the month. He'd thrown on his leather jacket before leaving the house but shrugged out of it as he got out of his car. It was gorgeous out.

The sun was shining brightly but not in the 'get in your eyes' sort of way that it did during the winter, no, this was a warm spring sun. The grass was green, the planters and beds around the building's front door were planted and sprouting up daffodils, tulips and pansies and Emmett took a deep breath, almost sad to be spending the day indoors. If it hadn't been for the photography exhibit, he might have changed their plans. Finnegan opened the door with a smile, glad to see that Emmett was wearing a T-shirt.

"It's as gorgeous out as it looks? I can't wait."

He got bold, reaching out and lifting up Emmett's right sleeve so he could take a look at the ink that peeked out from below it.

"This is really cool."

"It's really warm out. You should change so that I can get a better look at some of yours."

Finnegan headed towards his bedroom, talking to Emmett as he went down the hallway.

"First t-shirt of the year, what a treat."

He popped back out just a minute later wearing a solid black v-neck and asking...

"Should I bring a jacket?"

"Yes. It'll probably cool off this evening."

Emmett tried not to stare too much but Finnegan's ink was much more colorful than his own and he tried to pick out separate pieces.

"You can stare at me later. Where are we going?"

Emmett smiled, amused that Finnegan was still asking. 

"It was a surprise when I called you about it on Tuesday and it's still a surprise. I have something to show you, well, lots of things to show you and then we're going to eat."

Emmett worried for a minute that maybe Finnegan had already been to the Walters Art Museum but that was the great thing about a museum, there was always something new to see. Besides, given how much of a workaholic Finnegan was, he probably hadn't made the time.

"You're no fun," Finnegan teased, locking the door behind him.

"You're driving?"

"Yes. Would you rather I drive your car?"

Emmett tried to tell himself that he really just wanted to drive Finnegan's car again but there was a small part of him that worried that Finnegan might not want to be seen in his, at least not until he got the bumper fixed.

"It doesn't matter to me. So, I don't even get a hint?"

"Give me your keys and fine, were going to Mount Vernon."

Emmett had some pride and an undying love for cars. The roadster won. He had no idea if Finnegan was familiar with the neighborhood names of Baltimore but even if he was, there was lots to see and do in Mount Vernon. Once again he was glad to be about the same size as Finnegan because he didn't have to do any adjustments except to tilt the seat back one more notch.

"Ready?"

"I'm going to give you a tentative 'yes' even though I still have no idea where we're going. Do you mean Mount Vernon, like George Washington's house? That's a drive, isn't it?"

Emmett smiled both at Finnegan's cuteness and the beautiful purr of the Mercedes.

"It is in Virginia and a bit too far for us today. Do you know where the original Washington Monument is?"

He relaxed a bit once he'd found Light street and enjoyed the quick drive. Finnegan was finally putting things together and realized that Emmett had taken his job of being a tour guide fairly seriously.

"I'm going to guess it's in Baltimore, more specifically in Mount Vernon, Baltimore?"

"You got it. On the way I'm going to drive you by the Hippo. Well, it was the Hippo but it closed down a few years ago. I say a few but damn, maybe five years ago? It was my first gay bar."

"Wait, WAIT," Finnegan exclaimed as he saw the road sign. 

"There? Are you telling me there was a gay bar on Eager Street? You have got to be kidding me. That's funny."

"I was very eager first time I went in, can't lie. It was iconic. Had a huge bar, pool tables although they took those out at the end, and then a big club and dance floor on the other side. It was here forever, from way before I was born. Now it's a fucking CVS. Shame. I saw my first drag show here too. That was fun. But anyway, welcome to the gayborhood."

Finnegan tried in vain to imagine a short-haired, young, newly out Emmett but was pulled out of his thoughts when they pulled into a parking lot.

"The Walter's Art Museum?" he asked, trying to hide his disappointment.

His dates always tried to find something that rich guys were supposed to enjoy. He'd been taken to a horse race once, to the Symphony, to innumerable plays and even more art museums. He hadn't enjoyed a single one. Well, the horses had been pretty.

"It's great, come on."

Finnegan had to give him credit, he was very good at feigning enthusiasm. He tried to mentally prepare himself for two hours of standing next to someone and staring at the same painting while saying absolutely nothing. He was always the first to move on because his dates never would, no, that would make them look uncultured. Hopefully it had a good café. Maybe he should get a headache. Hell, he probably would get a headache. As soon as they were inside, Emmett took Finnegan's hand.

"Okay, they have an amazing gallery, lots of pretty paintings to see but I don't like them. I would love to see the pottery collection but number one on my list is the photography exhibit. Do you really want to see the paintings?"

Thank God.

"We can absolutely skip them," he replied, maybe a little bit too quickly.

Pottery could be at least moderately interesting and how long could it take to look at a couple of photographs? At least there would be food afterwards. The architecture of the building itself was great. The pottery collection was diverse and enough of the pieces were gorgeous or interesting that Finnegan found himself enjoying it. Besides, Emmett's comments were cracking him up.

"It's not a penis," he found himself whispering.

"Oh please. The symbolism that all these placards talk about is obvious in this one. Those handles are absolutely dicks."

"I think it's just how they stuck it to the basin."

"Uh huh, sure," Emmett scoffed, moving on.

"Holy crap, those are handmade beads?"

Finnegan had to squint even with his glasses on but yes, the dress was made of what appeared to be at least a million tiny beads all woven together.

"I can't imagine how long it took to make all those beads and then they threaded them all. It's insane, honestly."

"It is but it's also still here which is kind of cool. It's one of the things I love about art," Emmett confessed.

"It's a way to become immortal, in a way. Want to grab a drink and then hit the photography exhibit?"

He was trying to be patient but knew the museum closed at five and wanted to have enough time to see everything.

"Sure, sounds good."

He didn't drink all that much but wondered if they had anything alcoholic around. A glass of wine would be nice. In fact, he briefly considered carrying a flask so that the next time he got taken on a date like this, he would be prepared. Unfortunately he had to settle for a diet Pepsi but hoped the caffeine would help keep him awake.

"I wonder what ISO they used here?" Emmett mused out loud after studying the same photograph from three different angles and distances.

There was no graininess and he wished the photographers were here so that he could ask. Finnegan blinked rapidly and looked over at the picture that Emmett was studying. It was certainly one of the more interesting pictures of the group but he wasn't sure what any of it was doing in an art museum. Emmett seemed to be enjoying it unless he was just putting on a very good act.

"I don't know anything about photography but I'm not sure that it's art."

He'd heard this before.

"You prefer more pure art forms?"

He didn't prefer any of it.

"I'm far from an art snob, trust me but It's just not in the same category."

The look on Emmett's face made him regret saying anything at all and he certainly didn't want to have a two hour long discussion about it but he really was a little bit curious about Emmett's thoughts on it.

"I guess that depends on what your definition of art is."

"No, I don't think it does. Using a camera to take a picture of something is just making a copy of it."

When Emmett gave him a look that he couldn't quite decipher, he went ahead.

"Okay, so there's a sound engineer and a composer playing the piano in the same room. The engineer records the song. There's only one musician in that room, right?"

His thoughts came out a bit of a jumbled mess but he hoped he got his point across.

"I'm not saying the engineer isn't skilled, that it doesn't take knowledge and practice and that his job isn't important, I'm just saying that it's different."

"I hear you."

Everyone had their own definition of art and even he sometimes wondered if the visual arts really belonged in the same category. Nevertheless he had decided that art made you feel and that there are lots of different ways of making that happen. A good book, a good song and a good picture were all art in his book.

"The pictures in your living room are better than this, well maybe not this one, this one is good but the rest of them."

That got Emmett's attention and he cocked his head to the side, looking at Finnegan.

"Do you really think so or are you just voicing your disdain of photography in general?"

He hadn't meant to come across so harshly, especially not since Emmett seemed to enjoy it.

"I wasn't trying to be mean and no... I like yours."

He assumed the set of three photographs on Emmett's walls had been done by a professional and he could see why they were popular. They drew him in almost immediately and once he figured out the pattern he liked them even more. The first had been what appeared to be a very normal photograph of a small group of trees just barely leafed out, the second zoomed in more to a single group of branches and the third showed the delicate veins of a single, young leaf.

Emmett was floored. Did Finnegan know he had shot those pictures himself? Had they ever talked about his photography? His camera was usually lying around his house but maybe it had been upstairs last weekend. Did he even want to Finnegan to know about it after his 'non-art' tirade? It didn't matter what he wanted because Emmett was not the kind of person to play games.

"I took those last spring."

It took a second for his words to sink in and when they did, Finnegan had to force himself to not squeeze his eyes closed and run away.

"You're a photographer, of course. Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

Emmett held his hand up.

"It's fine, you're allowed to have your own opinion. At least you sort of like mine."

And thank God he had. Finnegan couldn't imagine how embarrassed he would've been if he'd said something shady about those.

"I'm a really crappy date. Sorry."

He led Finnegan over to a bench and sat down next to him.

"I'm sorry you haven't had any fun. This isn't exactly your speed, huh?"

"No, not really. I hate when guys try to impress me because I'm not all that cultured and I'm definitely not a snob."

Impress him?

"I wasn't trying to, Finnegan. I wanted to come, obviously and I hoped you would enjoy it. It's a bit of Baltimore that I think everyone should see. Would letting you pick the place for dinner help make up for it?"

It didn't seem possible but now Finnegan felt even worse than he had a few minutes ago.

"You don't have anything to make up for."

If anyone did, Finnegan knew it was him. He had assumed a lot and in this case certainly had made an ass of himself. 

"You pick and I'll pay as long as it's not fancy. No silver, no towels draped over arms and absolutely no escargot."

"I think I can manage that.  Ready to go, Finnegan?" 

He could have spent another half hour here easily but it wasn't all about him and he knew it.

"Whenever you are."

[sostanotes]

Lord of the Woods (2/?)

Day 7

Alright, so I don’t feel ready to approach Kleavor yet; there’s still plenty of the fieldlands I haven’t explored. Let’s see what’s out there. First stop: what can I find if I head west at the bridge?

That is the strongest Snorlax I have ever seen in my life. That’s a far west as I think I’ll be going to day; but I can go north, let’s see what else is up here.

ANOTHER ONE??!? Do the alphas just sprout out the ground here? Luckily the plain is pretty wide here, and it was easy enough to slip past him and keep exploring. It’s a pretty area, and the bugs seem to like it, though I do wonder what’s up with the rather blasted looking patch of meadow.

Still, once I dodged the Luxio, it was easy enough to safely do some research on the Wurmple-line Pokémon and regular Shinx that were found in the area. Once I start carrying a pokémon with a ground-type move, I’ll be able to fully perfect Laventon’s Shinx research.

With the amount of progress I made today, I realized I could request a promotion, so I stopped by the captain’s office upon my return.

Day 8

Before heading out, I stopped to talk to a few townsfolk and other Galaxy Team members who had various request to take care of. The concerns about the Drifloon are concerning, so I’ll come back early tonight.

I’m going to head east from base camp this time, and fully explore the Horseshoe Plains. If I wrap up the Bidoof and Starly research that should get me close to the next rank.

So I heard strange noises out past the rocks that shield me from that terrifying alpha Rapidash in the far west of the plains, and I peeked around to spot a veritable HORDE of Eevee. With some careful maneuvering, I managed to get into the tall grass unspotted. As ominous as the Rapidash looming behind me was, I got some good research done on the Eevee. Between that and the information I gained on Drifloon after investigating Miki’s concerns I felt confident asking for ANOTHER promotion.

Oh yeah, and we caught this cool shiny Bidoof!

Day 9

Alright, time to head back across the bridge! Let go west and see what’s down there; it was a little hard to make out all the detail from the other side of the river.

Dead End. Should have guessed, but I was hoping there was a tunnel or something I hadn’t spotted from across the way. The bigger problem was that alpha. He actually spotted me and I’ve developed a strong dislike for the move Water Pulse. I’m calling today a short day and going to bed.

Day 10/11

Alright! Making an early morning of it after yesterday. Let’s see if I can get up on the hills east of the bridge and north of the heights camp.

Easy enough to navigate. Plenty of grass and rocks for cover. Mostly Kricketot and Geodude, but that’s was a nice bit of research progress. It was an easy day, so hung around into the night to see what came out—mostly Drifloon up on the hill. I called it a night at the Heights Camp, and kept going in the morning, working my way down to the beach.

Beach was more of the same sort of Pokémon I’ve seen before, though I DID manage to sneak up on a few Abra, which was nice. I came back to town in the afternoon and help with a few more problems in town.

Day 12

Let’s see what else we can get to on the Deertrack Island. I’m probably ready for Kleavor by now, but at this point, I might as well be thorough.

Alright, I can see the way across the river again to get to the Grandtree. I’ve explored the Island pretty completely and have a lot of research to turn in. I also saw a way across into another section of the fieldlands, but I should focus on the mission. We’ll get an early start tomorrow and see what other obstacles remain.

Yeah, I’m over-prepared at this point.

[aisla229]

Finished the first arc of the tabletop rpg game I’m GMing, I can finally post all the art! More about the worldbuilding under the cut:

Sauris is a white moon who’s visible surface is mostly composed of clouds. It orbeting around a gas giant, Caelophy. Millenias ago one of the pieces of the crust rolled over in the sea, exposing its side to the sunlight above, past the violent chemically active (and colorful) clouds inbetween. Life boomed on the continent, giving birth to complexe lifeforms such as plants and animals. Currently, civilisation is on the verge of an industrialisation, with a wide and diverse range of trades, for the first time spanning the massive and entire continent.

The active Inner Cloud layer, in an event called the Cloud’s Shift, can burst outwards. When it touches the continent it is believed to be the cause of creation of magic, causing all kinds of odds events as well, like making felines walk on two legs, plants change color, or give mysterious abilities to hidden creatures.

Any magic needs to be cast with a magic circle, each categorised by naturally occuring sigils at the centers. There is 13 known sigils, each named and tide to the planets and moons of Sauro. However tides are about to move, with a few wary travellers coming across a 14th unknown sigil, with the only proof of it being a reserved kid and a suspicious necklace.

Dinosaurs are the prominent life form on Sauris, with only a few mammals (mostly rodents and our beloved humanoids), fish in the rivers, and giant insects in the bogs. Here is a world where dinosaurs are found as locomotion, pets, food, and terrifying predators. It being very cold on Sauris, all year round, they also all rock some fluffy feather/proto-feathers coats.

The seasons no Sauris, are divided into two summers and two winters, spending a large portion of the year partially obscured of Sauro by Caelophy. The highest temperature is around 10°C , and the lowest -30°C

Here on the continent:

- The Tower of Almonious: A distant land discovered by a great sorcerer who has constructed a massive tower on top. Not much is known to the common people of Sauris, and stays inaccessible even today.

- Pol Malleo: An Active volcano, that unlike the ones on Earth does not eject lava, but a hot water-like liquid. Said liquid, named Azura, has a bright blue-turquoise color that glows a powerful green when it comes in contact with certain gases. The jets can go as high as 50 km high in the sky, forming a long colorful trail as it floats away.When an eruption occurs during Altieme, the droplets of liquid tend to freeze instantly in contact with the cold air, forming icicles that drop on the land below, often causing great problems as they bullet the surface.

- Tiacus Mire: It is currently the land in which resides the biggest city of Sauris; Aegyp. It also has the biggest lake: Great Ophora. During Primaestas, the majority of its land gets flooded, creating humid bogs, prospice to massive creatures, such as insects, Spinosaurus, and water dwellers like the massive mosasaurus.

- The Isles of Breviq: It probably has the most unique land shapes of the entire Continent. Long, relatively thin pillars of land have slowly come apart from the main land mass over many centuries, resulting in its numerous islands appearing to float between the clouds. The people of Breviq are known for having tamed the difficult beasts of the sky; riding pterosaurs.

- Pol Incus: The tallest mountain of Sauris, and so the tallest point of the entire moon. Its difficult climb has challenged many minds to reach its freezing top where the air grows thin. Temples and even old artefacts lie across the peaks or hidden under it’s rocks, proving the curiosity this mountain has always inspired.

- Thyreophor: The biggest land of Sauris. Thyreophor is most defined by its lush forests with massive trees and year-long colorful plants capable of holding under massive amounts of snow. It still holds the title of largest population in total.

- The Sdomorphia Wild Plains: Long stretches of grass and brush-like plants extend for as far as the eye can see. Sdomorphia is the land of nomads and the biggest of the animal kingdom: the Sauropods. It might not contain many streams or lakes, but it’s vast stretches borrow perfectly for herd hunting.

- The Austro Tundra: Unlike the other more South lands of Sauris, the Austro Tundra’s soil never melts away. Its rock-solid earth and ice makes it difficult to build houses on, but it has not stopped villages from sprouting even on the coldest land.The Austro Tundra is the land of Theropods, having the biggest number of raptors alike, many of which have prized feather coats.

- The Coelorus Coast: It has some of the biggest rate of precipitation of Sauris, standing on the right side of Pol Malleo against the strong air currents brushing the clouds below. Perhaps from the warmth created by Pol Malleo, the snow in Coelorus tends to melt a lot quicker than the other lands, and with the high amount of rivers and streams lining the soils, it also is one of the most fertile places. The steep sides of the volcano create perfect ranges for step agriculture, and primarily corn and rice.

- Cephalia: It currently has the title of the land with the biggest number of farm-land. Cephalia is often defined as the most friendly populace. With its loudest voices being farmers and workers, it has a particular streak of freedom and carelessness attached to its name.

- The Shantung Sway: A land carrying its own ecosphere, the people of Shantung have remained centuries without connection to the rest of Sauris. The current path to its land is extremely recent and trades have yet to be initiated. Apart from a very few explorers that have left Shantung to see the lands, and all described as fairly eccentric, interactions have been minimal so far.Shantung has been described as odd and fairy tale-like. With plants that glow in the dark, upside-down trees that prevent snow from reaching the ground, and weird spiky structured rocks. With bizarre animals, dinosaurs naked without feathers, small floating octopus creatures, and long leg-less organisms that slithered like tree branches.

- The Tenonto Canyon: The great divider between Malleo and Incus, the canyon expands down as far as can see, battered with wild winds and dangerous looking tornadoes beneath the clouds. A single bridge has been built on the closest edges, where the trade route quickly bustled with life, and ultimately created Mer, an unique city split in two across each side, one in the Tiacus Mire and the other in Thyreophor.

I’d like to say a big thank you to the players for being so patient and being so invested in this world i created, I love you guys. And thanks to anyone who actually read this!

[prof-peach]

Hello professor, ive been looking into taking on a sawsbuck as a business companion, i make tea from certain grass type’s shed dry leaves and flowers, and i was wondering a few things. Where does sawsbuck lie in the grass type classification? Are they normal type pokemon with a parasitic feature like parasect? Are they normal grass hybrids that feature both the animal and plants as one being like tortera? Or are they full on grass pokemon that evolved to look like normal types like nuzleaf? Also the only species ive seen are the cherry blossom verity, what other kinds of floral species can i look into?

Sawsbuck is an interesting one, technically they're more like a Torterra in that their body is host to a tree, the seed of which is lodged in their brain upon birth/hatchig. Some actually do not receive a seed, and are pure normal types! but it is quite unusual a defect in the species. The seed once the pokemon evolves, sends its roots far down into the brain and through the spinal column, right to the tip of their tails. They do not need to root like an average grass type, as they already are constantly rooted into the pokemon's body itself. If its host is healthy, exercised, and fed well, so are the plants that adorn its head. The foliage is a good signal that you have a strong partner, if they're full and healthy in colour, and quick to adapt to each changing season, then odds are they're ok. You could call it parasitic, but your information on Parasect is off a touch, they're technically Symbiotic. The fungi that hosts within that pokemon aids it, and keeps it healthy and hardy, giving back sugars and nutrients the original pokemon needs but cannot produce without its mushroom infested bod. Just like Parasect, Sawsbuck needs its tree core partially for camouflage, but also to photosynthesise when they have a lack of solid foods available. When Sawsbuck fall on hard times, their foliage will provide them with energy, and in extreme conditions, they shed and consume their own antlers, to survive terrible conditions. It is unusual for a grass type to not need to root, and thats why it's primarily a normal type, capable of surviving fine without its tree, without the grass aspect, and without its antlers. We occasionally see members of the species who's trees have rotted and died out, and should they survive this process, they go on to live just fine so long as they have enough food and water. Normal type pokemon are notoriously adaptive, its why Sawsbuck are classified as Normal firstly in their type hierarchy. Their classification is actually debated quite a lot, they do not produce seeds like most grass types can, and cannot reproduce this way, and they do not root, and yet they synthesise and benefit from their host plant matter, and often survive thanks to the trees they sprout when left alone in the wild. I suppose it's a topic to question but regardless of how we categorise them, it doesn't really matter. They're good partners, and can provide a whole host of useful medicine from their variants. A pure breed Sawsbuck however isn't all that good for tea brewing. If you want a strong packmule/mount with tasty tealeaves, I'd suggest a Gogoat. They are very durable, and have great empathy for peoples needs. in regards to Variants of Sawsbuck that may suit your needs, search for a 'Camellia sinensis' Variant, a species of tree that is good for tea, or perhaps an Eastern white pine variant, not known for its flowers, but certainly can brew a good cup or two! Theres Sassafras variants too, but they're a bit more uncommon to find. I suppose you could look for a Willow variant or two, the bark they shed can be treated so you can use it as a drink but BOY, it's a bit of a longwinded process. Hope you feel a bit more informed, theres plenty of others but they're uncommon to find, let alone tame. Some variants are more fiery than others.

[thathermitweirdo]

Blood and Tears - Chapter One: Bloodlust

The summertime air was a warm breeze, carrying the faint scent of honey and flowers wherever it went. Night had taken over the sky, leaving hundreds of thousands of stars overhead to guide travelers to their destination. Sadly, they were impossible to see through the thick canopy of branches and leaves overhead, yet glimpses of moonlight managed to slip through the cracks of the greenery.

He was a rather well-dressed man, with an appearance that didn't match the outdoor labor that he was doing now. His clothes were fine and clean, unlike what most peasants wore. He wore a loose-fitting blouse with long sleeves and a ruffle collar on the front, known as a poet's shirt to most. Along with that he had deep brown trousers and black leather boots, with a rather simple cloak to complete his attire.

Normally, he wouldn't be out this late. It was a dangerous endeavor, especially as he wandered through the wild and twisted woods. The forest was on the outskirts of the kingdom, overtaken by lush plants and dense bramble. Very few were brave enough to travel through the forest, rumors of bloodthirsty monsters that lived in the wilderness causing many to avoid the area.

Frankly, Mumbo wasn't one to be superstitious. The rumors were nothing more than stories created to scare off anyone who would try to come near. He assumed that the legends of so-called 'beasts' were created to prevent young children from wandering into the forest, yet somehow it seemed to have gotten out of hand. It was surprising how many had fallen for the tall tale, it even seemed like the ruler over the kingdom believed that the forest was filled with mythical creatures.

Yet that was all nonsense. Mumbo was a sensible man, he knew better than to believe a story made for children. So, here he was, wandering through the woods. One hand gripped the handle of a worn-out axe, its blade dull with bits of orange rust beginning to form. The other hand had a burlap sack thrown over his shoulder, filled with bits of sticks and firewood.

It was ridiculous, doing all this hard work late at night. But the heat of a midsummer's day was unbearable, along with the swarms of bugs that would undoubtedly follow him through his tasks. Even with the shade of the trees, it would be much too hot to work effectively.

Mumbo didn't normally chop firewood. He was actually a bit of an engineer, really. The king would hire him to design all sorts of contraptions. It was mostly bits and bobs like drawbridges or a pulley system, things that were relatively simple to design. Still, it paid quite well. But when he wasn't working for the king, he would help out at a bakery that was owned by a close friend. That was actually what he was doing now.

Stressmonster was her name. She owned a quaint little shop that sold bread for all those who lived in the kingdom, which could be rather demanding. She ran out of firewood for the oven, so Mumbo volunteered to go out and gather more. The brunette resisted at first, she was one to believe all the fables and folktales, but it wasn't long until she eventually gave in.

He dropped the sack of firewood, which landed against the long grass with a soft thud. A tree has fallen in a small clearing, leaving plenty of wood to be easily gathered. Mumbo chuckled to himself, raising the axe over his head before chopping off one of the large branches that had sprouted off the main trunk.

With all the rumors of 'beasts' living here, no one would dare gather the valuable resources that the forest held. Wood could sell for quite a high price, as it was essential for building and expanding the kingdom. Normally, this forest would have been torn down to make room for new homes and structures for the village. But instead, the king decided to expand in the opposite direction, even going so far as to trade for building supplies from other lands instead of harvesting the trees from the woods.

'What does it matter,' Mumbo shrugged as he swung the axe down onto the trunk of the tree. 'More wood for me, then.'

Just as he was about to tug the hatchet free from the log, a sudden flash of light burst across the sky and caused the darkened forest to glow for just a moment. After that came an ear-piercing clap of thunder that seemed to shake the world, along with a rough gust of wind. Storms like these were quite common on summer nights, they were quick to come and quick to go. Still, that didn't make them any less dangerous.

Mumbo scooped the remaining bits of wood he had gathered into his bag, as they wouldn't do any good for a fire if they were soaking wet. He debated bringing along the axe as well, though ultimately decided against it. It would be too heavy to carry back in a rush, and it wasn't like anyone would steal it.

Bits of rain managed to break through the leaves overhead, though the storm was growing worse. Mumbo pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and within moments, the downpour became violent. Even with the treetops blocking most of the rain, the Brit's clothes were quickly drenched. The ground became muddy and slick, making it difficult to run back to the village without slipping.

There was another flash, then the roar of thunder came soon after. It was hard to see through the sheet of rain and the raging wind was only adding to the disorientation that Mumbo felt. 'This storm isn't going to pass any time soon, is it?' He thought, dread filling the pit of his stomach. The storm was much too rough to simply be a regular summer downpour, it could  possibly last all night long!

He needed to find shelter, and fast. The thunder was growing louder and more frequent, which was never a good sign. He began to run. Where, exactly? Mumbo wasn't quite sure. He didn't know which direction the village was, so he just ran as fast and as far as he could. The forest grew dense as he continued onward, heading deeper through the woods, growing more and more lost with each and every step.

Rain fell in fat droplets, pounding against the engineer's body. He hoped deep down that he was running towards the village, yet Mumbo knew that this area of the woods was unfamiliar to him. He cussed underneath his breath, examining all around him in every direction. Which way had he come from again? And where was the village? How large was this forest?!

"Need a bit of help?" A voice spoke up from the darkness, pulling the Brit straight from his thoughts. A crack of lightning vaguely illuminated a figure watching from the trees. Mumbo gasped, tripping over his feet at the sound of another human. He landed face-first into a pit of mud, before scrambling and slipping in an attempt to get back into his feet.

The voice laughed at him for a moment, before hopping down from the tree branch that they had been seated on. They walked over, offering their hand to help Mumbo back into his feet. "Seems like you've had a rough night."

"You could say that again.." The Brit sighed as he wiped the mud from his face onto his sleeve, taking the stranger's hand afterwards. "Do you happen to know which way leads back to the village? I've gotten quite lost due to this storm."

"Wow, you really have had a rough night. You're near the heart of the forest at this point." They laughed a little, before shaking their head. "But that's no problem at all. I can take you back to the village in the morning. It's a bit of a walk, but it'll be much quicker once this storm dies down. Until then, you can stay with me."

"Oh, thank you! Your help means a lot." Mumbo sighed in relief, following the figure that led him through the trees. They wore a black cloak that was similar to his own, though due to the darkness of the night, it was difficult to make out any physical appearance.

The two walked in silence as the rain continued to pour down, pounding against the treetops and the ground. The figure reached a wall of vines and plant life near an overgrown hill of rocks and stone. They pushed apart the vines, revealing a hidden cave that was nearly invisible to the untrained eye. "Right in here, come on." They urged as another crack of thunder caused the sky overhead to glow, causing Mumbo to quickly scurry into the cave without a second thought.

It was dark for a couple moments, so much so that the engineer could barely see his hand in front of his face. Footsteps came from behind him, then the faint sound of scraping. Mumbo nearly jumped as a flame suddenly broke out, the mysterious figure kneeling beside a pile of sticks and logs. "That's much better." They said while removing their soaking wet cloak, placing it near the fire to dry.

Mumbo studied their face and appearance curiously, the figure unlike anyone he had ever seen before. Their eyes were a dark shade of crimson, like the color of blood as it slowly leaked out of a gash or wound. They looked to be somewhat young, possibly in their late twenties or early thirties. Despite that, the mysterious figure had hair that was pure white. They had pulled it back into a medium-length ponytail, though a bit of stray hair managed to fall into their face. Along with that, they had all sorts of scars, covering nearly every part of their body.

"Take a seat, dry off." They invited, patting the spot on the ground next to them. "I don't believe I've introduced myself, have I?"

Slowly, the Brit shook his head with great reluctance. "Ah, I'm sorry. That was rude of me. My name is Xavier, pleased to meet you."

"I'm Mumbo." He said while removing his own cloak, placing it onto the stone flooring of the cave before taking a seat beside the campfire. "Thank you once again, without your help I may have been lost in the forest for the rest of my life."

"Well it's understandable, the woods are quite large. Most people who go in don't tend to return. Speaking of which, what were you doing out here? It's rather odd, especially for someone who lives in that village on the outskirts of the kingdom. I thought everyone there was afraid of the beasts and monsters that lived here."

"That's all just a bunch of rumors, I personally don't understand how so many could believe those stories. But anyway, I came to collect firewood for a friend of mine—" he gave a pat to the bag of wood that he had dragged along. "—I came at night to avoid the heat and bugs, but I wasn't expecting a storm like this to come out of nowhere."

Xavier let out a laugh that echoed on the walls of the cave. "Rumors? No, those beasts are real. Since this forest is free from humans, mythical creatures tend to roam peacefully here."

"You can't be serious," Mumbo shook his head. "I don't believe you. I'm sorry, but monsters? Half-human, half-animal creatures? Bloodthirsty demons? It just isn't very realistic."

"Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I believe you're talking to one of those 'bloodthirsty demons' that you don't exactly believe in." He said, opening his mouth to reveal two pointed fangs. The Brit could feel his heart stop for a moment, as dread filled the pit of his stomach.

"Y-y-you're a-a—"

"Vampire?" Xavier interrupted, raising an eyebrow with a bit of a smug grin on his face. "Yes, I'm a vampire. I'm surprised you didn't notice sooner. Most people tend to run off screaming the moment they notice my red eyes. I guess I got lucky with you..."

"Wh-..what do you w-want from me..?" Mumbo stuttered as he backed away from the fire, trying to distance himself from the creature that sat across from him.

"Oh, nothing much. I promised that I would help you get back to the village, and I intend to honor that promise, but I'll need something from you in exchange.."

He swallowed the lump in his throat, the engineer feeling his hands begin to tremble with fear at the idea of what could happen to him. Xavier laughed once more, though it sounded more like a dark cackle as it bounced off the walls of the cave. "You're shaking like a rabbit, how adorable!"

"S-s-stay away. Stay b-back!" Mumbo snapped, reaching his hand into the bag of firewood. He pulled out a short branch which was somewhat sharp on one end, pointing the makeshift weapon towards the bloodthirsty creature. The vampire scoffed, slapping the Brit's hand away and causing him to drop the stake.

"You're quite entertaining, you know that?" He smiled, the scarlet of his eyes seeming to glow with devious intentions. "I'm glad I ran into you, I normally don't get a chance to play with my food."

Mumbo's eyes widened in horror, his heart jumping to his throat as it pounded rapidly. He got up to run away, fearing his life was in danger, though it didn't take long for him to get caught. He was tackled to the stone flooring of the cave, a hand on his head to keep his face pinned against the jagged pebbles on the ground. Xavier was on top of him, his claw-like hands gripping tightly to the mustached male's raven hair.

The vampire's pupils were sharp, as though he were a feral cat, Xavier's instincts seeming to have a firm hold over him. He was starving, many of the woodland creatures scarce and difficult to acquire nowadays. Human blood was rather tempting, too good of an offer to pass up. Normally he wouldn't hurt humans, as he mostly wanted to be left alone, though this time was an exception.

His dark chuckle caused the hair on the back of Mumbo's neck to stand on end, the vampire leaning in close as he whispered. "We don't get to eat much, with the forest being rather empty and all. Just a couple deer or rodents. So when defenseless humans like you wander in, us 'monsters' have to take the opportunity to have a good meal."

"Please," he begged with a trembling sob. "I-I don't want to die..."

"You won't die, unless I get a bit too greedy..." Xavier said, mentioning the last part underneath his breath. "Squirm and cry all you want, but you can't escape me. Now be a good boy and hold still before I get even more hungry.."

Mumbo could feel his breathing quicken out of panic, his hands balling into fists as he tried to grab hold of the rocky flooring to have some kind of support. Xavier leaned in close, hissing as his fangs slowly began to extend outward. They grew sharper within moments, easily able to pierce through skin. He shut his eyes as tight as he could, the Brit trying his best to hold back the tears in his eyes.

The fangs stabbed into his neck rather quickly, tearing through the flesh. It was a burning sensation of pain and agony, like a knife had just been pushed through his chest. Tears fought their way out, and Mumbo couldn't stop them. He sobbed weakly, choking out babbles and pleas to end the suffering. He wished for death. He wished for it all to be over.

And in a sudden moment, it was.

Yet, he was still alive.

Xavier was still pinning him down, enjoying the human's blood like it was a five-course meal. But the pain that had caused Mumbo to cry and beg had been washed away within an instant. His body felt numb, tingly almost, with his mind overwhelmingly calm (despite the current position that he was stuck in). He felt his fists slowly begin to relax against his will, while his breathing began to slow as well.

He felt heavy and tired, making it feel impossible to move any of his limbs. The engineer groaned softly as spots of his vision began to fade in and out of darkness, while simply breathing became a difficult task to complete. Mumbo's head and thoughts became fuzzier with each breath, as every bit of strength and energy he had was slowly drained away.

There was a faint sting of ecstasy in the back of his mind, a strange sense of some kind of unnatural pleasure forcing its way through the Brit's body. It was unlike anything he had felt before, though that only made Mumbo even more unsteady about the whole experience.

Before he could question it any further, his vision finally began to fade, while his mind eventually slipped into a state of peaceful unconsciousness.

—

7 months later

February always had a harsh feeling of dread and cold, with skies that were normally stuck painted in a cloudy gray that was dull and bleak. The weather was frightful, from frigid winds to icy hail storms that froze the cobblestone roads. It was hard to farm with temperatures such as this, most crops unable to withstand the sheer cold that they would face this time of year. Wheat was especially hard to come by, as there seemed to have been a shortage during the harvest for winter.

Stress had been lucky enough to buy up extra grain for situations such as this, though it wouldn't be long before she would run out. Many people were short on food, although normally there would be winter crops that would be grown during harsh climates. Farming towns were responsible for these harvests. They were mini-villages that were underneath the rule of the king, yet were a bit far from the kingdom due to the large fields and plantations.

Because of the distance, they were easy to attack, which is exactly what happened. At first it seemed random, possibly a band of robbers that had wanted to sell the crops that they stole. Though it soon became clear that one attack wouldn't be the last. Other small towns were stuck, causing livestock and other resources to go missing. No one was hurt, though that quickly changed with the latest attack.

Someone managed to spot whoever or whatever had been stealing from them. The robber had been carrying a sheep out of its pen in the middle of the night. Apparently the farmer who was being stolen from had thought that it would be a good idea to attack the thief with a flaming arrow. There were no guards out in the farmlands, which means that farmers tend to have to protect themselves. Still, Stress thought that was a rather violent punishment for someone who was stealing a singular animal, though the criminal managed to get away unharmed.

The arrow had missed, and the fire ended up spreading to the wooden fencing of the sheep enclosure, and before long the flames had nearly engulfed half the town. Many people had lost their homes, along with the only way that they could earn money. Some were injured, others were killed. The town was eventually destroyed, along with all of the plants that were being grown and harvested.

It was an awful set of circumstances, leaving many hungry and homeless farmers with no way to earn money after the loss of their crops. Those who had their homes destroyed were currently in the process of moving to the main kingdom, taking anything that survived the fires along with them. Stress watched as donkeys and carts made their way onto the main road, the large flood of people making their way into the village. The baker scanned the faces in the crowd, attempting to spot someone who looked the least bit familiar.

"Stress!" Someone called out from the middle of the group, a man pushing through the horde as he waved towards the brunette. She smiled as glee filled her chocolate brown eyes, waving back at the short male.

He pulled on a rope that was wrapped around his wrist, tugging along a donkey that carried bags of items and belongings on its back. The two broke free from the crowd, heading off to the side of the road where Stress was located. "Oh, are you alright? I heard that the fire was awful! Was the trip long? Do you need to rest?"

"Stress! Stress! I'm okay, I swear!" He laughed joyfully, "The fire just destroyed parts of my house, but nothing of mine was damaged. And I was supposed to move back here anyway for work, so I'm completely fine. No need to worry about me."

"Oh, I know Grian. But you've been gone for so long!"

"It's only been a couple years, but I've written letters to you all the time."

"It's not the same. Oh! Will you finally be living here permanently? No more movin' 'round at random?" She asked with hopeful energy, though Grian shook his head with uncertainty.

"It's difficult to tell, you know how the king can be sometimes." He shrugged, walking over to his donkey to rummage through a few of the bags that the animal carried. "But he wants to expand the kingdom, and he needs an architect to do it, so here I am. But maybe I can talk to him about being permanently reassigned here, if you'd like."

"I'd love that, dear. Everyone has missed you. We would love to have you move back for good!"

"Well then, let's hope my meeting with the king goes well." Grian said with a wink, pulling out a few scrolls of paper from his bags. "I've already drawn up a couple designs for homes and new shops. Maybe we could even give your little bakery an upgrade!"

"Oh, you know very well that I'm happy with what I have." She said politely, tucking a bit of her hair behind her ear.

"Well, if you ever need a bit more space, I'd be happy to help out."

"Maybe someday, but for now you should get goin' to your meeting. Don't want to keep the king waitin'. But stop by afterwards, I'll gather everyone and inform them that you're back!"

"Thank you, I really have missed all of you. The meeting shouldn't be that long, just a routine check-in before I start work tomorrow. I'll head back to the bakery as fast as I can!" Grian said, giving the brunette a quick hug. "Do you think that you can take Donk there? He probably needs rest after carrying all my stuff for the entire trip."

"Of course, love. I'll see you soon!" Stress said while stroking the animal's mane, before waving goodbye to the architect as he ran off.

Grian tucked the scrolls of paper that he held into the brown leather satchel that was slung over his torso, doing so as he ran through the streets in order to make it to the castle in time. His boots clicked against the cobble roads, yet the sound was drowned out by the bustling city folk. Royal guards were marching on patrol with glistening weapons in their hands, while salespeople were yelling to advertise their products. Some yelled of wool clothes, while others spoke of firewood and other materials that were for sale.

Fighting his way through the constant flow of people was rather difficult, though Grian wasn't too overwhelmed by it all. Truthfully, he had missed the busy life that kingdoms and large towns held. He had been assigned to work on constructing housing for smaller farming communities in the countryside, though was requested back to the castle after the latest attack on the village ended up destroying half of the homes.

He made it to the main gate at the front entrance of the castle, nearly out of breath from running. Grian took a moment to straighten his red tunic and brush the dirt off his dark grey trousers, attempting to make himself look tad bit better for the ruler of the kingdom.

Once ready, he walked to the knight that was standing guard at the front entrance. They examined the architect head to toe, studying him for a few moments in silence. The guard then gave a hum of approval, stepping aside to let him pass. Grian ran up the path the moment he was given permission to do so, before climbing the steps that led to the main palace.

It felt strange to see the palace up close again, as Grian could only see it far off in the distance from the countryside. Years had passed since his last visit to the castle, and yet time seemed to have no toll on the fortress. Bits of ivy and moss seemed to grow on the bricks that were closest to the ground, but other than that, there was no noticeable difference from all those years ago.

The architect dragged his fingers against the walls made of stone bricks, which were cold to the touch. Grian took a moment to turn back, the view from the castle looking over the entirety of the village. Not only that, but he could vaguely see parts of the countryside from here. The sky was painted with a burning orange flame that broke through the grey February clouds, giving color to the world in a time that felt weary and soulless.

After a brief moment of thought, Grian refocused on the task at hand. He turned towards the front doors of the castle, grabbing the ring-shaped handles that were made of some kind of dark metal. He pulled at the door, which caused a low creak to echo through the throne room. The king and his advisor were waiting for him there, though neither spoke up as the Brit walked forward.

His footsteps were softened by the carpet underneath his feet, the fresh and vibrant ruby color giving the appearance that the rug was brand new. The architect walked forward towards the throne, fine metals and rare wood had been shaped together to form a seat that was truly fit for a king. Grian stopped a small distance away, bowing his body and his head as a sign of loyalty.

"My liege."

[songbirdsingingthings]

Sweet Escape - Levi Ackerman x Reader

WARNINGS: Angst, Major Injury, Mentions Of Blood

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Hajime Isayama

Part Two - AOT Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Word Count: 1.5K

It all happened so fast that it caused you to think it wasn’t even real. But, the searing pain in your abdomen told you otherwise. You registered the slightly tickly, slightly itchy feeling of the dry grass as you lay on your back. You could feel the blood pooling all around you, making your shirt and even your pants damp with it. I hope it doesn’t make its way into the ODM gear, you think, turning your head slightly in order to try and peek at the machinery on your hips. Levi will kill me if my blood ends up gumming up the gears.

*Flashback*

“L/N, if you don’t get your cloth moving and your mouth shut, you’ll have stable duty for two months. I hope you know that it will include mucking out each and every stall twice a day, every day.” You cringe a bit at your captain’s harsh tone, quickly picking the little rag up from beside you and making yourself busy by wiping the glass window panes. Captain Levi was always this way, even with his own squad. He wouldn’t stand for loitering or slacking off, which you respected, but he could be an incredible hardass sometimes. You weren’t even making that much noise, murmuring back and forth with your squadmate, but Levi just wouldn’t stand for it. 

“Busted!” Your squadmate whispers, causing you to cover your mouth in order to not voice your giggles. Nonetheless, Captain Levi noticed. Nothing ever really flies past him, does it.

“Lieutenant, is something about that punishment funny to you?” He snarls, causing your head to whip around and face him. The piece of fabric that was previously tied around his head was now lowered, covering the cravat he always wore. Fire burned in his eyes and his expression was dangerous, almost asking you to tell him that it was indeed funny so that he could make your punishment even worse. You stuck to your manners though.

“No sir,” you say quickly.

“Tch,” he scoffs, putting the cloth back over his mouth and turning around so his back is facing you. “Do not leave this room until every speck of dust is cleaned out of here.”

“Yes sir,” you and your squadmate say simultaneously, exchanging worried looks. You waited until the captain left the room and shut the door behind him before you heaved a sigh.

“He hates me.” You state, staring back solemnly at the window that was already clean.

“He doesn’t hate you, he just thinks you’re a bit…” She trails, trying to find a proper word.

“Bad at being a Scout?” You offer. She shakes her head. “Well even if that’s not the word you’re looking for, it’s true.” You huff, now moving onto the armoire in the corner of the room. You let the rag gently trace the intricate carving on it, finding little joy in the indented details that attracted dust.

“Sour! He thinks you’re a bit sour.” She deduces. You look at her with a somewhat hurt expression.

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Well I don’t think you’re sour, neither does anyone else.” She reasons.

“But your approval isn’t what I need… not that I need approval!” You say, quickly.

“But you want his, don’t you.” Your squadmate states, earning a groan of dismay from you.

“I don’t even know why! I know I was chosen for his squad for a reason and that my statistics show for themselves, but there is just something in me that demands for him to like me as a person.” At your statement, she bursts out laughing. An incredulous look flashes across your face at her reaction. “What?!” You exclaim, feeling a little self-conscious now.

“Oh nothing, you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

It was getting tougher to breathe evenly. You were trying to focus on your breaths; in for six seconds, hold for two, out for seven seconds. Instead, you felt like you were exhaling faster than you were inhaling, providing little air for your lungs. It was like some dust was lodged in there and wasn’t budging. Maybe it actually was dust and all those times that Levi had told you to cover your mouth was for a reason. Your shirt was now fully soaked in your red blood and it started to leak out onto the prickly grass. Please let the others be okay, you think, your eyes still stuck on the azure sky. You could hear the faint yells and screams from scouts in the distance. There would be no chance that anyone would come back to get you, they were too far away. I’m going to die alone with my own thoughts, you conclude, letting tears drip from your eyes as you awaited your lonesome death. The mechanical sound of ODM gear roused you from your thoughts, causing your eyes to dart over towards the commotion. Whoever was using the gear landed quickly and their steps over to you were urgent.

“L/N!” They shouted. Your eyes closed at the voice, finding it quite ironic that the man who hated you the most would be the one to comfort you as you slipped away into the awaiting abyss of darkness. He dropped to his knees beside you and quickly scanned over your body to find the source of your bleeding.

“Levi…” You said, gasping in pain as he removed his cape from his shoulders and pressed it into your abdomen. 

“Hush, brat, we don’t need you exerting any more energy than you have to.” He says, his tone still the harsh one you were used to.

“I’m sorry.” You manage, causing his gaze to lock with your own. He found your eyes to be swimming with yes, tears, but also incredible remorse. His hard exterior fell a bit at this.

“Why on earth are you sorry?” He asks, now taking off his Scout jacket and laying it across you to preserve your body heat.

“I’m sorry that I was such a bad scout… and a bad cleaner… and that I was so sour that it made you hate me.” You finish, giving him a sad smile. Levi shook his head immediately, and slid his body so it was easier for you to look at him.

“I never hated you,” He says softly. Your eyes widen at his words. “You were noisy, and talkative, and sometimes even energetic to a fault… but I never, ever hated you. How could I, when you were such a source of sunshine?” You didn’t make an effort to stop that sob that escaped your mouth.

“Man, I really blew it, huh,” you croak, feeling more lightheaded than before. Levi cocked his head in confusion. “She told me that i’d figure it out soon enough, and now that I have, it’s way too late.” You pause to take a few breaths. “I love you. That’s why I wanted you to see me as capable. But now I’m dying, and your face won’t be the one to greet me after I wake up, even though most of the time you were yelling at me because I overslept.” A strained laugh escaped you as Levi looked at you with despair laced in his eyes. “What I wouldn’t have given to just end this whole thing and leave to live in a flower-filled meadow or somewhere peaceful like that. Wouldn’t that be sweet?” You whisper. Your fingers and toes were growing numb and your body felt cold. You were running out of time. The moment your eyelids began drooping, Levi frantically lifted your head and set it down gently in his lap.

“No, no, no, you keep your eyes open Lieutenant.” He was practically begging you at this point. “I shot a signal flare so the medics will be here soon, just hold on.”

You gave him a grin, but your once pearly whites were now stained with red. Your hand reached up to cup his cheek, ignoring the screaming pain in your side. You saw the blood that your hand was smudging on his cheek, but he made no effort to cringe from it or try and wipe it off.

“You tell them that I wasn’t a crybaby when this whole thing went down, okay? I want everyone to remember me as someone who stood strong in their last moments.” Levi was shaking his head as he reached his own hand up to yours so that he could hold it.

“I’m not gonna do that, because you’re gonna be okay. You do not get to leave me, you understand?” You felt your hand begin to grow wet with his tears.

“Please don’t be sad, Levi.” You ask of him, your eyes pleading. “Can I get a smile? I’ve never seen one on you once, and I think it would look just wonderful on you.” To your loopy surprise, he obliges, sprouting a wobbly, but visible, smile. You were right. He looked wonderful. In the distance, but coming closer to you, you could hear the sounds of horses pulling a wagon behind them.

“See, the medics are right here. Just hold on a little longer!” Levi exclaims, worry still prevalent in his demeanor. You felt people gather around you, but you were too tired to open your eyes. The last thing you felt, before your mind slipped into unconsciousness, was the feeling of Levi’s lips on your forehead. What a sweet escape.

A/N: This could potentially have a part two? Idk, I’m pretty much fine leaving it here like this, but if anyone wants a part two lemme know!

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

Humans? Up MY Beanstalk? It's More Likely Than You Think!

AO3 Link

Danny's back on her bullshit and here to make everyone suffer with another WIP that's part of a fic trade with my beloved @hiddendreamer67 <3

Summary: I mean, Jack made it all sound so easy! Climb up the beanstalk a few times, steal enough riches to last himself ten life times, and live happily ever after as a heroic giant slayer with absolutely no repercussions.

Seriously, how hard can it be?

Aiden was no stranger to life events going from bad to worse at the drop of a hat, but more often than not he was able to go with the turbulent flow just enough to keep his head above water and out of any serious trouble. Such a feat was most evident in his adaptation to living within the labyrinth-like walls of the oversized castle he had foolishly sought refuge in weeks prior. Had it been weeks? Months, perhaps, or maybe only a handful of days. The passage of time was just as foreign to him as these massive surroundings, these massive people , and he didn’t have the gall to weasel his way towards an opening near the outside to gauge how high or low the sun was sitting in the strangely pink sky.

The irony was almost funny; where was that fool hearted bravery he had been swimming in when he first started his ascension up the winding stalk that sprouted who knows how many decades ago to reach its impressive height? He knew the stories of young boys trading cows for beans and getting far more than they bargained for. He knew it was down right suicidal to scale the plant in general given he hadn’t a lick of training when it came to climbing anything other than a ladder. The opportunity to live within a legend was too good to pass up, unfortunately. The flimsy promise of riches and adventure beyond his wildest dream outweighed the need to even consider how he was going to get back down from the towering growth when he was inevitably disappointed by the lack of golden eggs.

But he didn’t succumb to the thin air or fall to his death, and he wasn’t disappointed. If anything, he was given everything he envisioned. Almost everything. When he broke through the cloud line, he discovered the vine had tapered off in favor of clinging to a cliff side he was unaware even existed from below. Green tendrils served as almost a ladder to aid his climb up the mysterious rock formation until he was able to pull himself, huffing and panting and muscles tingling from overuse, over the edge to collapse on horizontal land. So the fabled kingdom of riches didn’t actually rest on the clouds, it seemed. A small let down, but hardly anything worth dampening the mood as Aiden took in his new world view.

He felt as if he had switched places with a weevil seeing how the small patch of grass he was in came up to his chest rather than swishing against his ankles. The euphoria of this great new discovery once again drowned out the more rational side of him, favoring exploration over potential survival. The logistics of returning home could be dealt with later, after he had slayed a giant and stolen only a penny of its wealth that would no doubt provide for him for the rest of his life. Naive. Gullible. Fool hearted.

Aiden had only trekked for a few hours before nearly getting swallowed up by a winged beast he likened to a bat, washing away over the edge of the cliff in a stream, and getting trampled by hulking soldiers doing their rounds. Each close call he survived by the skin of his teeth, luck and adrenaline driving him blindly to find a moment of safety. However, with each incident his bravery withered away into trepidation, especially the closer he came to the giants that roamed the lands. None of them had noticed him yet and part of him wondered if they would ever notice something as miniature as him scurrying around, but he wasn’t feeling bold enough to stay out in the open just for their reaction. No, once he had slipped into the fortress of metal and stone, out of sight from any predator's eyes, the will to venture back out had faded into near nothingness.

If he had it his way, he doubted he would ever again have the gung ho to leave the confines of his newfound sanctuary, not even for the bittersweet desire of returning home. He had made his bed in his haste to seek glory out of tall tales and now he must lie in it. Though his heart ached with anxiety and his hands ceased to tremble, his traitorous stomach refused to let him continue a life of solitude amongst the dusty beams. A weaker part of him couldn’t help but wonder if it would be worth it to live with the gnawing pain until it eventually overtook him. A fitting end, would it not, to starve to death like a rat in the walls? Alas, he was weak, but not weak enough to endure such aggressive cramping by the end of the second day, and so he mustered all the strength and courage he could just to snatch a few stale breadcrumbs long forgotten behind what he assumed was a cast iron stove.

Aiden truly was living up to his new rodent lifestyle, wasn’t he.

It was disgusting, but it was food, and though it made him ill the remainder of the night it had at least provided him with enough energy to go back out the next night in an effort to find something an inch more sustainable. By the end of the week, his newly discovered drive to live had him exploring every corner of the expansive kitchen during the wee hours of the night, when no giants hurried back and forth between the counters and the galley to serve platters of meals that could have fed his own village for months at a time. The rich smell of hot breads and meats made him dizzy, even more so now that he was getting accustomed to surviving off of dusty scraps he found on the floor. He needed to play it safe, he reminded himself as he watched one of the chef’s throw out an entire pan of fresh loaves because there’s too many chives in this! It’s too bitter for his tastes! , hardly resisting the urge to dive into the bins after the wasted food.

But...if they were so keen as to throw away an entire batch of fully prepared food over the fact that it was unsuitable for one person’s palette...surely there was no harm in taking what would be considered a nibble. Not when it was unwanted.

There it was again, that fool hearted bravery. If only Aiden had used it to find a way out of this unofficial prisoner rather than fuel his greed. He couldn’t be happy with the bare minimum he was given, could he? Always had to push the boundaries when he knew exactly where they lied, always run headfirst towards danger and then act surprised when it would bite him in the ass moments later. At least this time around he had the forethought to formulate some type of a plan, as flimsy as it was. Having become quite familiar with the inner structures of the fortress, he was able to determine the abode he was in was something along the lines of a castle. It was certainly sprawling enough, decorated with dark colors and glittering riches and constantly bustling with workers ranging from lowly servants to chittering socialites. Whether or not this was indeed a house for royalty he was unsure, having never been able to pinpoint which of the ambling lords or ladies might be the esteemed ruler of the lands. Assuming monarchies even existed this high, that is. Perhaps this was merely the norm of their society’s standards. It was unlikely, but it wasn’t as if he had many outside resources to compare this way of life to, not even in the way of his own village.

In theory, the heist should have been easy. In theory . All he had to do was wait until the dead of night for the bustling kitchen to fall silent as it normally did and he could slip out from the crevice closest to the scraps bin. Scaling in and out of the bin might prove trickier than he anticipated, but that remained a problem for future Aiden. The most important part of his newfound mission was being able to fill his stomach up with day-old bread and cold meats before they were discarded for good. If all went well, this could easily become a nightly routine of his, a way to feast like a king whilst living like a rat within the true royalty’s walls. He knew he was getting ahead of himself with that kind of fantasizing, perhaps that was even the beginning of his downfall, but he had so little to look forward to these days that he dared to get his hopes up for a semi-decent meal.

He hadn’t even made it halfway across the counter before he was spotted and subsequently captured.

But he had been so careful , he lamented to himself when the air was roughly knocked from his lungs after a massive hand slammed on top of him, pinning any squirms. True, he reflected as the stars cleared his vision, he never actually bothered to see if the kitchen remained vacant all night given that he was asleep...but he just assumed! Who in the world would be up during this hour!? Someone else sneaking a snack, maybe, just as he was. He could use that to his advantage, try and gain a few sympathy points by connecting with the giant on that level, convince them that all he needed was just a fraction of whatever they were probably getting for themselves and he would be on his way for good. A lie, of course, but the giant didn’t need to know that.

Once more, that short lived plan would never be put to use when Aiden felt himself being lifted in the air within a bone crushing grip, metal and leather digging into him in various places from the glove the giant wore. His eyes barely adjusted from the dizzying movements and dim kitchen before they were blown open at the sight, constricted breathing still entirely for a heartbeat. This was no ordinary giant, not like the ones he had grown accustomed to glancing at from the nooks and crannies. At first glance, however, it did fit the bill for the most part -- biped, guard’s armor, a human face -- but...did these giants typically have glowing purple eyes? He couldn’t recall for certain, yet the more he looked the more he found that appeared off. The outline of the guard’s figure seemed...fuzzy, like they were blurred rather than a solid defining line. His face, harsh and scrutinizing, was greyer than a corpse. He was otherworldly, and it was at that moment Aiden was painfully reminded he was in another world, one he didn’t belong in. One he knew he would be leaving quickly.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the guard rumbled, his voice grating more like static than a growl.

“N-no…” Aiden agreed. Anything to get on his good side. “I’ll go, I’ll l-leave!”

Though he had found his voice, he had yet to find the strength to attempt any kind of struggle, not that he thought he’d be able to budge the massive fingers in the slightest. However, if he showed just how eager he was to depart from this situation, maybe the giant would believe him and grant him that small mercy. Instead, he was given another rough squeeze that made his spine pop, the fist clenching him raising higher so that he was more at eye level with his captor.

“How did you get in here, human? ” The guard spat. Good news was that humans were a known creature, at least. Bad news was that humans, apparently, were not known for any pleasant reason.

Aiden panted, trying to suck in a much needed breath after all of his were forced out. “I-I don’t know…” He squealed in discomfort when the fingers tightened again, refusing to let up until he gave a more satisfactory answer. “Th-the walls! I came through the walls! ”

The guard snorted and slackened his grip to allow an inch of breathing room, “Of course you did. Little pest that you and your kind are.”

“Wh...what are you…?” A bold question, but since he was sure it was to be one of his last, Aiden saw no reason not to ask.

He wasn’t given an answer, the giant instead lowering him slightly to exit the kitchen and pace down the halls. The scenery whizzed by so fast that it made his head spin, catching a few looks at other giants that were loitering about. Just like the guard, they were similar to the ones he would see in the daytime but...different. The two guards they passed looked to be of the same race of whatever the one holding him was, a noblewoman in a shimmering capelet eyed him suspiciously and he could have sworn her ‘capelet’ flittered before settling back down her shoulders. How had he never seen any of these attributes in the day? Then again, he often viewed the giants in the fortress at a distance and never for very long, they could have all been magically endowed for all he knew. Or, another theory, the ones he was coming across now were merely nocturnal and their more...normal housemates were sound asleep as he typically was while these creatures did their rounds and had their fun.

The wonderment was short lived when the giant shoved his way through a heavy wooden door at the very end of a lesser used corridor. With each step down the spiraling stone staircase, Aiden felt his heart sink just a little lower. The long shadows casting against the walls from the torches mounted to them gave the dank atmosphere an even more sinister vibe, leaving too many unknown things able to hide in the darkness. Even the guard, who did not appear to be an overly friendly fellow to begin with, looked twice as menacing with how the shadows concealed the few human features he did have. Aiden swallowed thickly, unsure of where they were heading but already knowing it wasn’t good.

His hunch was confirmed when the guard entered another hall, one lined with cramped cells that were partially occupied. He tried not to look at them and their fates, not wanting to see what might be awaiting him as well. Likely not, though. He was far too small to shackle and imprison. A different punishment would have to be in store for him. Further down the hall, the dungeon changed its holding cells from ones with iron bars to ones with solid steel doors instead, obscuring whatever poor bastard was locked within. Was that considered a crueler punishment? Perhaps that was where the torturing took place, if such types of creatures indulged in those acts. He saw no reason why they wouldn’t and as a result could very easily imagine himself being thrown in there next.

Fortunately, or not, the guard instead opened another wooden door that was adjacent to several of the isolated cells, coming to stand before another giant sitting at a table. Aiden couldn’t tell what was on the desk or what this new giant was using these unknown things for, but from the jist of it he must have been busy.

“Sir,” the guard holding him said while raising him higher for the presumably important one to see better. “A human has been found within the perimeter.”

The guard, a captain if Aiden were to guess, frowned. “Any others?”

“None that I could sense in the immediate area.”

He sighed and waved his hand. “We’ll do a sweep before daybreak. Who knows the amount of damage it’s done...what it’s taken, what it’s told.” He fixed Aiden with an icy glare that made the poor human try to shrink in on himself.

He wished he could have found a way to defend himself, plead his case, but his voice was nowhere to be found now. All cowardliness and no self preservation.

“And how shall I dispose of this one, sir?” The guard asked and Aiden paled. Dispose!?

The one in charge shrugged a shoulder and resumed what he was doing previously, fiddling with tools and books and papers for one reason or another. “Put it on lunch duty. Give the lizard another rat to keep him busy.”

Aiden didn’t quite follow the logic of the order. Lunch duty didn’t sound half as bad as being disposed of. The ‘lizard’ was news to him, but regardless the guard nodded at his order and left the office back down the corridor of steel doors. He wasn’t sure if he should speak up and ask for clarification while he mulled over his rather lenient sentencing, doubtful the giant would even regard him. From the looks of disgust and distrust he had been given numerous times in the short span of time he had been discovered, he could gather that his presence was an unwelcome one, though why he was still unsure. Evidently, he was going to be put to work and he could most certainly live with that. Earn his keep, he reasoned. Give rats to lizards or something. Would these rats and lizards be the same kind as the ones back on his homeworld down below or would they be to scale with the giants? Another question he should probably speak aloud before he got in over his head.

Or, at least, he would have asked, had a wad of cloth not been jammed into mouth hard enough to make his jaw click uncomfortably. He gagged, trying to shove the offending material out with his tongue, but it was packed into his cheeks too tightly to budge. A different material, a thin rope, was quickly wound around his chest to pin his arms to his sides before wrapping further down to bind his ankles. It had happened in the flash, the guard giving him no warning or reasoning for the sudden confinement, but it wasn’t as if Aiden could offer up much protest now that it was all said and done. He was completely immobile, spun up like a fly in a spider’s web. The guard had done it with such efficiency that it must be something similar to a routine for him by now which did not bode well. In a last ditch effort to save his hide from whatever...this was, he looked up at his captor with wide, pleading eyes, begging for just a shred of sympathy or at the very least an explanation of what was about to happen.

All he was met with was the same cold, violet eyes as all the other giants he had come to pass. Equally cruel and indifferent. And it was then he understood, as he was being roughly shoved through a hand slot at the base of one of the sturdy metal cell doors, that he was not the one who was meant to be delivering the meals during “lunch duty”. He was the meal. He was the rat, which meant the lizard was…

Aiden wriggled as best he could manage in his position until he was able to roll onto his back and get a good look around the cell. It was massive to him, but compared to the size of the giants he could tell it was rather cramped. Dark and depressing, much like one would expect a lonely prison cell to be, with the scattering of tiny bones and grime along the stone walls. His breathing quickened as he tried to tell just what type of origin the gnawed remains had been, however it was too difficult to tell at this distance in such gloom lighting. Perhaps that was for the best, giving his brain a little boost of reassurance that maybe they weren’t all human bones, that this wasn’t a common fate most of his kind befell when they made the same foolish mistake of invading where they clearly did not belong.

Trying to avoid the glare of bones only worsened his situation tenfold when he turned his head and was met with what was, obviously, the lizard as previously mentioned. Well, partially a lizard? More human-looking than lizard just going off a quick glance which led Aiden to believe the nickname was meant to be a derogatory term for whatever species it was. It...he? Yeah, he was kneeling on the floor, not by choice, but rather due to the shackles that bound him at the wrist and was tethered to the floor with a pitifully short chain. The clothes he wore reminded him of something he might have caught a few nobles wear given the level of craftsmanship and hand woven designs. It was a shame they were soiled now in what he could only assume was sweat and dirt, how he hoped that was dirt. The prisoner picked his head up when he heard the food slot screech open and shut, waiting for any other sound before sighing at the responding silence.

The chain jingled as he shifted to reposition himself into something a little more comfortable, Aiden now catching sight of the black nails that blended into scales littering the back of his hand when he flexed his fingers. A tail briefly flicked into view before concealing itself behind him once again. As the human let his gaze trail further up his face, fully prepared to see another hateful glare burning a hole through his weak soul, he couldn’t help but notice another spattering of black scales along his cheekbones and down his neck, presumably up to his eyes as well, but...well, he couldn’t tell. Not when there was a tattered, red cloth tied around his head, effectively blinding the sense. He wondered if this was an ailment the giant already had or if this was another part of his punishment, curious if he even had any eyes still in their sockets beneath the shoddy wrappings. Whatever the case was, the “lizard” obviously couldn’t see him and Aiden was unable to alert him to his presence with the gag shoved down his throat, leaving them at an awkward stalemate.

A stalemate that lasted all of two seconds before the giant wrinkled his nose and frowned. “The hell kind of rodent is this…? ” he muttered to himself.

So much for not knowing he was there. With great effort, Aiden twisted his body until he was able to turn on his side, trying to push himself up into a sitting position. He froze when the giant started to move as well, pointed ears twitching in response to the light scuffling he was making against the floor to pinpoint his location. Despite one of his senses being dulled, it was evident his remaining ones were still working in perfect order, maybe even heightened to compensate for the lack of vision.

“Another live one,” he sighed, fingers flexing again, “Sorry about this little buddy. I don’t like live prey any more than you like being it, I’m sure, but, well…”

That was the only warning Aiden had before the giant lunged, teeth snapping an inch in front of his frozen body. From this close, he could see the needle-thin fangs previously hidden behind a grimace and instantly wanted to be far, far away from them. His only saving grace was the short lead the other had on his cuffs, preventing him from pushing off any closer and cutting him off just shy of his prize for the time being. He growled in annoyance at having missed the offered prey, pulling back to realign himself for a better pounce.

“Come on, just make this easy for the both of us,” the giant huffed.

Oh, absolutely not. No, no, no. No, this was not how Aiden wanted his adventure in the skies to end. Fuck the adventure, he wanted to go home and he wanted to do so alive and in one piece. Being ripped to shreds was not a fate he ever envisioned for himself. He wasn’t going to die like some...some rat!

The giant was inching closer, moving along the side as much as the chain would allow to get a better angle. It didn’t matter whether he ensnared the tiny between his claws or teeth or even batted its little corpse within reaching distance with his tail, so long as he was able to get a hold on its fresh flesh one way or another. Desperately, Aiden began to rock back and forth to shimmy his body across the floor, painstakingly putting centimeters of distance between them that the giant was able to make up in a single shuffle. When the chain pulled taunt again, the human rolled to the side and narrowly missed the clamp of teeth once more, hot breath blowing against his back and covering his body in goosebumps. Undeterred, however, the giant followed his scent that was so tantalizingly close and moved his body in unison with Aiden’s. With another bite, he was able to find purchase on the ropes that burned against his arms and sunk his fangs in what he supposed was meant to be an animal's tender flesh.

Aiden had tried to avoid the attack but simply could not scramble away quick enough, his only luck being that he was just far enough that the gnashing teeth only managed to puncture through the fibers of rope rather than his actual skin. He was lifted into the air when the giant pulled back, kicking and thrashing to the best of his ability against the hold. The humid air blowing on the back of his head made him nauseous now, only able to envision how the feeling would quickly be enveloping him entirely when he was thrown back and swallowed down the creature’s gullet. With one, final twist, Aiden prayed his limited strength would be enough to somehow dislodge himself from the giant’s maw and give him another chance at playing this unbalanced game of chase.

And then the rope snapped.

Having already been sawed and frayed in several places from the giant’s fangs, Aiden’s pull was all it needed to rip apart entirely, sending the human sprawling onto the cold ground. His vision clouded when his head smacked against the stone, ironically thankful for the wad of cloth in his mouth or he most certainly would have lost a few teeth. Without a doubt, he was going to have a nasty bruise coloring the majority of his right side in the near future, the ache still pulsing with every wheezing breath he tried to gain back. While the stars faded from his eyes, he watched distantly as the giant curiously grinded the material in his mouth before dropping it. He pursed his lips in confusion, expecting raw meat and the rush of blood rather than some scratchy coils of what almost tasted like hide.

“Gods, what even is this,” he cringed.

Me , Aiden wanted to cry out, it’s me, it’s a human!

The giant’s hang up with his unusual meal faded into resignation much sooner than Aiden would have liked. He was hardly to blame, though, if he had been given nothing but live pests to blindly hunt down without the use of his full mobility for an undetermined amount of time. They were in a similar boat, really. Creatures trapped in a home they had no business being in, trying to survive on what little scraps were thrown their way. The human sorely wished he hadn’t been relegated into the scraps category, but there was little he could do about that now. Knowing his prey had a pretty straight forward drop, he moved again with an open mouth to seal the foreign creature’s fate.

The sight of teeth rushing to greet him was exactly the adrenaline rush Aiden’s body needed to get moving again, much more successfully this time now that he had arms to push up with and legs to carry him a greater distance. As much as he would have loved to have sprinted to the other side of the cell, even find another crack to slip through if fate would feel the desire to be so kind to him today, he only managed to stumble a few feet out of the immediate danger zone before tripping over himself. His right leg screamed in agony from the second fall, a sign of something being sprained somewhere he was sure. He wanted to scream out loud as well had it not been for the gag. The gag he realized he could take out now. Unsure of how useful his last words would even be, the human ripped the wad of cloth out of his mouth in a frenzy while the giant prepped himself for another attack. If anything, at least Aiden could find catharsis in leaving some sort of statement about himself behind for someone to hear, even if it was just confirmation of his fool heartedness.

“Stop!” Aiden yelled, voice raw and itching his throat like it hadn’t been used in ages rather than half an hour. “Please, stop! G-get away! ”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting the giant to do as a result, but one thing was clear and it was that he most certainly wasn’t expecting his meal to say anything. He reeled back like he had been physically struck by those words, if his eyes were visible he was sure they would be as wide as serving platters. It was almost comical how he stumbled back, the menacing creature suddenly so fearful of a tiny vermin it was trying to consume moments prior, mouth agape as he tried to process what was going on without being able to actually see it.

“You...did you just, oh my gods,” he gasped. While he was glad he was being spared for the time being, the giant’s nervousness did little to quell the anxiety that had been brewing in Aiden’s heart since the moment he came upon this accursed land.

“Ple-please…” Aiden whimpered, suddenly drained physically and emotionally from the whole ordeal and settling to just drag himself any extra distance he could away from his unofficial death penalty. It was a pathetic display, but on the bright side, one he wouldn’t be mocked for. “Don’t h-hurt me…”

The giant shifted again, hesitant, closer , and Aiden braced himself for the final bite to end it all.

“You can talk!? ”

[bastillewolf]

Hey I know you probably have like a billion requests already but maybe you could do something where the reader is good friends with corpse (maybe with some unspoken feelings) and they ask him to visit their country side home lmao-

I'm really embarrassed about asking this and I know it sounds strange but being out in the country side can be really good for mental health and I just want this boi to heal--

I'm so sorry hahah

Thanks

That’s not strange at all, darling!! I love this ask! I’m so sorry it took me so long to answer this, my mental health hasn’t been very good lately. I suppose I found this ask rather appropriate and I guess that’s why I liked writing it so much. Hope you enjoy!

Sunrise, Sunset - Oneshot

Pairings: Corpse Husband / Reader.

“Yo,” is the first thing you hear as you open your Discord. It’s not his regular greeting, and he sounds more tired than usual.

“What’s up?” you asked curiously. “Everything okay? Haven’t talked to you in a while.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I got really busy.”

“I can tell from your voice,” you chuckled. It had more of a rasp to it- if that was even possible.

“Yea, I can’t do too much for too long. I love that I’m able to work on music now, but it exhausts my voice so much that I can’t even stream sometimes.”

“Maybe you should take a break,” you comment.

“Probably. It’s almost done, so then I can stream more,” he replies.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Hm?”

“I’m talking about an actual break, from everything.”

You hear him exhale deeply as if he’d already been considering it himself. “That does sound very nice.”

“I know, I always have the best ideas.”

“You do, except you forgot about the fact that I can’t really go anywhere. I mean, I’d love to take a break, but if I just sit here at home, I’m gonna either end up doing nothing or start working anyways. I don’t see me relaxing that way.”

“I didn’t forget about anything; I just hadn’t gotten to that part yet.”

“Oh?”

You’d be lying if you said that noise didn’t make you blush. “Remember how I said I live in the countryside? You know, it’s quite cosy here, and I have a guest bedroom to spare. If you want, but only if you’re comfortable with it, you could come over.”

It was quiet for a moment and your poor nerves were wondering if you’d said something completely wrong. You knew how he was about his privacy, but you’d figured that having known each other for a more than a few months now, you’d be at a point where you’d become actual friends, especially considering you always talked over Discord. At least, when he wasn’t busy.

“I... You wouldn’t mind?” he asked softly.

“Of course not!” You immediately replied, trying your best to make him feel as welcome as possible. “It’ll be so much fun! I was just worried you wouldn’t feel comfortable with it, otherwise, I would’ve invited you over a lot sooner.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes! I’m always looking for people to take care of my chickens.”

“You have chickens?” he sputtered.

“Sure do. And that was a joke, by the way.”

He didn’t really give you much time to prepare. He’d instantly asked if he could come over in two days, which meant you had to clean, do the groceries, and have another mental breakdown within that short time.

When he did arrive at your relatively small but homely cottage, you knew that even if you’d had more time, you still wouldn’t have felt like you’d prepared enough. You were incredibly nervous, especially as the cab slowed to a nerve-wracking speed until it finally stopped in front of your little wooden fence that really couldn’t keep anyone out of your garden because it was so ramshackle.

You nod your head to the driver politely, who got out of the car to unload a bag from the trunk. Then, the door opened, ringed fingers sliding across the yellow polish on the metal framing. He pulled himself up and out, finally allowing you to take a good look at his face.

His hair was dark and curly, as to be expected from what you’d seen in the pictures, though you could barely see it underneath the hood he’d pulled up. His dark brown eyes immediately found yours, and a shy smile graced his lips, which you bashfully returned with a small wave. It made you want to hit yourself multiple times. He paid the cabby and thanked him, allowing you to take a good look at his attire, at his frame, at his whole being. He was wearing a black hoodie with some chains around it, along with dark baggy trousers and, go figure, black sneakers. He was slightly slouching, probably so the driver wouldn’t be able to make out his face in its entirety, but overall he looked lean, even while his face was more pale and tired, with dark circles surrounding his eyes.

He locked the creaky wooden fence behind him, quickly closing the distance between you two with only a few strides. He dropped his backpack on the floor, saying, “hi.” “Hey,” you replied with that stupid smile still on your face and now quite possibly a hint of red dusting your cheeks. He just chuckled at the slight awkwardness of the situation, before wrapping his arms around you in a warm hug. He smelled like nice cologne, and he gave really good hugs. It said a lot that you could tell that from just the one. “Thanks for letting me come over,” he muttered, finally allowing himself to sound as exhausted as he looked.

“I told you, it’s nothing.”

When you met his eyes again as he pulled back, you knew he was quietly telling you that it meant more to him than that. Feeling shy under his dark gaze, you shook your head, saying, “Come on, let me show you around.”

It wasn’t that big of a tour, but it was home and it was comfortable, so you never felt embarrassed about it. You made enough money, to be fair, from your career through YouTube, but you’d never really had the heart to leave the house. At least you had a guest bedroom, and the garden was something to dream of. To trade that in for a bit more storage space would be such a pity.

“-and this is going to be your room, for however long you wish to stay,” you finish with a flourish of your hand. He set his suitcase down on the freshly made bed and nodded, glancing around for a bit before his eyes landed back on you. “Did I tell you how much I appreciate you doing this for me?”

You huff, “Once or twice now.”

“I’ll be off your back in a few days, don’t worry. I think I just needed to get out of my stuffy apartment for a bit.”

“Stay as long as you’d like,” you told him assuredly, “I know how stressful it can be and I haven’t even been through what you have. I can’t imagine what it must be like.”

He shrugs, “I have my ups and downs. It’s mostly my health issues and anxiety holding me back.”

“Well, I hope you can relax a bit here, then. People seem to feel more at ease without a bustling city around them,” you said.

He glanced out the window and nodded. “Yeah, I immediately noticed it as I got out of the car. It’s so... quiet here. And the air, of course. It’s so much nicer.”

“I usually take walks in the early mornings. You should come along sometime if you’d like. The sunrise is always really pretty when you get up on the hill.”

The corners of his lips quirked up. “I’d like that.”

“Great,” you replied, clapping your hands together, “I’ll let you get settled and start dinner. The uh- the bathroom is shared, I left a stack of towels on the rack so you can use those.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

You nodded shyly, silently closing the door behind you as you stepped into the hall. You let out a deep sigh and leaned back against the wall, pressing the backs of your hands against your cheek in a vain attempt to cool down the heat and tone down the redness. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d reacted this way but the times you’d spend talking about everything and nothing with Corpse through Discord calls that lasted until the early mornings. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling this way. You didn’t want to risk the friendship you had with him, but the tingling that had sprouted in your gut the moment he’d gotten out of that car told you that this was going to be hard.

 You knocked on his door quietly, afraid you were accidentally going to wake him when he didn’t want to be awoken. You didn’t know what kind of morning person he’d be, but he told you yesterday that he wanted to join you for your walk today. And while you were going to leave half an hour later than usual because it took you that long to work up the courage to knock on his door, meaning you were going to have to hurry a bit to catch the sun rising, you were still scared he was going to react grouchily. But when he opened the door, already dressed and ready to go, you realized you’d foolishly forgotten that this wasn’t just anyone, but that this was one of your friends; someone you already knew, even if it hadn’t been physically. Of course, he’d open the door with a smile, even though he looked more tired than the day before, which worried you.

“How did you sleep?” You made it evident in your tone that you were rather scared to ask the question, but it made him chuckle.

“I think you already know the answer to that. I don’t sleep well in general, so don’t worry. It has nothing to do with the bed or your hospitality.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do for you, I don’t mind being woken up.”

He shook his head as he followed you downstairs and out the front door. “To be fair, I slept more than I usually would, but your rooster woke me up.”

You laughed, “Yea, I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything about that.” You held the wooden fence gate open for him, following him to the grass field until you were walking next to him. You silently picked up your pace a bit, worrying that you might miss the sunrise when you had promised it to him.

“I know, I know,” he replied amusedly, “Can we go see them later? The chickens?”

“Sure,” you smiled, “I also have a few ducks. You’ll love them, they’ll try to rip the shoelaces from your feet.”

“Sounds great.”

The walk to the hill wasn’t too far, but the hill was quite steep, which was always an exercise for people who walked with you for the first time, so you’d figured he’d start trailing behind you after some time. Thing is, he started trailing behind relatively earlier than you had expected him to.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you called out, “you good? We’re almost there.”

He nodded, though you could see him slightly panting, and you turned around to jog up the last bit until you reached the top. You could see a sliver of light start to peek over the horizon, making you glance back to see how far away he was.

But instead of having moved forward, he was now sort of slouched over, holding his stomach as he panted loudly. “Shit,” you cursed yourself as you sprinted back down until you skidded to a stop in front of him. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I should have slowed down-“

“It’s fine,” he waved you off, slowly catching his breath. “I can do it, I just take a bit longer.”

“I’ll carry you if I have to. I got us into this mess.”

He chuckled, but it sounded a bit hoarse.

“Come on,” you said. He furrowed his brow in confusion but followed you anyway. Walking along the side of the hill was tricky, but you made it around without any issues. He was able to keep up this time and gratefully plopped down on the grass beside you, just in time to watch the sun fully appear from behind the horizon.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

“Yea, it never really gets old.” You laid down, feeling twigs of grass tickle the bareback of your neck.

He joined you, scooting a bit closer until your arms were brushing against each other. You couldn’t tell if he’d done it on purpose, so you acted like it hadn’t affected you, keeping your eyes fixed on the sky above you. At least, you tried. They flickered when you felt fingertips graze across your lower arm until they reached your palm, where his nails slowly dragged along your skin until his warm digits intertwined with yours. His rings felt cool against the heat and tingling you were suddenly feeling in your hand. He didn’t let go of you, not as you laid there for what seemed like hours, nor during the entire walk back.

‘Is this what friends do?’ you were silently asking yourself, watching the ducks try to free his shoes from its laces, ‘is this what friends do when they need support? Is this his way of coping, or is it-‘ You quickly shook the thought away. Of course, he wouldn’t think of you that way. He probably did stuff like this with all his friends. You knew how playful he could get, his guy friends included.

Yeah, it was just that. It had to be.

You were both laid back on the couch that night, stuffed to the brink with the famous lasagne you’d put together. The TV was on, but it sounded more like static noise in the background. “I think I can just fall asleep right here,” you hummed. The glass of red wine you’d shared – because neither of you could handle liquor – had created a pleasant buzz between the two of you.

“That seems a lot less comfortable than your bed.”

“You don’t know a thing about my bed,” you huffed indignantly.

It was quiet for a moment then, a sliver of tension seeping through the warmth of your home. “I think it’s probably about as comfortable as mine, otherwise you’re treating your guests too much,” he replied.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “I’ve actually never slept in the guest bedroom. I might just be treating my guests too much and I’d never even know about it.”

He suddenly sat up and turned the TV off. “Come on,” he said and was already up the stairs by the time you’d made an attempt to move.

When finally reached the upstairs and were about to round the corner, you were suddenly picked up and slung over his shoulder, causing you to let out a loud shriek. “Corpse!” you laughed, “Please put me down!”

“You were taking too long,” he grumbled, dropping you down on the bed unceremoniously. He shuffled over until he was laying down next to you and lifted the covers up until it reached your neck.

“So?” he asked.

You had your eyes closed. “I might be treating my guests too much.”

He snorted. “Fucking knew it,” which made you laugh.

You laid there for quite a while, not really caring if either of you fell asleep with your regular clothes still on. “Hey Corpse?”

He hummed.

“I’m really glad you came. It gets lonely over here sometimes.”

He shifted, but because it was so dark you couldn’t really see what he was doing. Suddenly though, you felt him hovering over you, his elbows resting on either side of your face as his hand reached across to move a strand of hair to the side. He leaned down and hesitantly, his lips barely touched yours, a silent question if this was okay. You moved back against him, your hand finding his cheek in the darkness. His kisses were gentle, but passionate, which made your breaths heavier and deeper. When you pulled apart, you were both breathing heavily, mostly from the tension that had arisen.

“I really like you,” you admitted.

“Good,” he replied, wrapping his arms around you until you were tucked against his chest. You hit his arm playfully, “Cocky bastard.”

You hear the smirk in his voice as he said goodnight.

TAG LIST CLOSED!

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[sdv-mostly-shane]

not sure if this has been asked or written before, but what a about a 'sort of cryptid like farmer' and shane? a farmer that's just a little bit more on the non human side kinda thing, if thats alright

A special Spooktember treat for you guys- I hope you enjoy. Been saving this one until it was appropriately close enough to spooky season. Also- TIL that goblincore is a quite delightful aesthetic-read til the end to get the full ✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:* vibes *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ they’re feral AND charming.

Just Goblin Things

Summary: There’s something sinister in Cindersnap Forest, and Shane is the one to come face to face with the creature. What he finds is a more than just a little magical, and he can’t wait to discover more.

Trigger warning : very brief, vague insinuations of alcohol; general spookyness.

“Seb, how many more until we can go back to my house?’

“Just a minute, Sam. I can hear one croaking just over there…“

“Yoba, what was that!-look, there in the bush!” A flash of green had caught Abigails eye, followed by a loud scrambling noise. She pushed herself off the ground, using Sam’s shoulder as a boost, and leaped toward the sound, searching for its maker.

“What kind of frog was that?”

“I didn’t even see anything. Probably just some raccoon or something.” They watched Abby crawl around a small thicket of bushes, peeking in between branches as she went. “Leave it alone, Abby, you don’t want to catch rabies.”

“Raccoons don’t have green eyes, Seb,” she said, as she perked her head up to listen to a faint crinkling of leaves. “Listen, do you hear that? It almost sounds like.. hissing?”

“What, like a snake?”

“No, like a-AH!” Abby shrieked, and fell back. The two boys ran towards her. “No, get back, it might see you!” She was referencing the massive pair of green speckled eyes that were now accompanied with a gnarly, toothy grimace emerging from the bush. From it, came an ungodly snarling and hissing.

“Alright, time to go,” Seb yanked the two teenagers away from the creature, and they started to run. Once they had made it inside Sam’s house, the trio slammed his bedroom door and jumped on the bed. They sat for a moment in silence, listening to each other’s panting breath. Abby began to say something, but Sebastian interrupted, “we’re not gonna talk about it. Just don’t-nothing happened. We didn’t see anything. Got it?” Abby huffed in frustration, and protested with him, arguing that they needed to get back out there and figure it out. All Sam could do was stare at his floor, stunned at what had just happened.

The next day, Sam went to start his shift at the Joja Mart on edge from the night before. Shane was working the freezer when he spotted him-he had picked up a packaged of individually sealed pancakes seven minutes ago and was still staring at it, unmoving. “Uh, you alright, bud?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it…” His voice seemed far away, but he managed to finally move, making to put away the product. He turned to him, “Shane, you live in Cindersnap Forest. Have you ever seen anything… weird… there?”

“You mean besides Mayor Lewis sneaking out the back window and crawling around the house, thinking I can’t see him?”

“What?”

“No, never seen anything.”

“Well we did, Abby, Seb, and I, last night.”

“And?”

“Well, nothing really actually happened-it just scared us, really. Made a really ugly sound and showed it’s teeth to us. It must have just been some animal… but the thing is… gah, I can’t even say it.”

Shane tossed a bag of multipurpose detergent at him, demanding, “C’mon, say it.”

“Ouch, Yoba, alright. I didn’t tell the others, but when we were running away, I looked back and.. and well, I saw it run away and it was on two legs like a person.”

“Hah, okay you got me. There’s nothing in that forest, kid, don’t think about it too much.” Shane slapped the back of Sam’s shoulder, bidding him to just do his work, and went about finishing the stocking. He’d look over, occasionally, to see the golden-haired teen zoned into space again, but he didn’t have the mental capacity to really care at that point; he just needed to get through his shift.

______________________________________________

Shane looked at his phone-11:26 PM. He’d gone out, not able to sleep, and forced himself to take a cold walk through the woods to avoid the saloon. Shivering, not just from the cold, he made his way over to the edge of the lake. He enjoyed watching the little sparkling fish swim, their silver scales glisten underneath the shallow water… Swishing and splashing and crashing-crashing? He flipped his body around to see the source of the crash-in front of the big tree, in a disheveled pile, sat the farmer. They were brushing the leaves out of their hair and dusting off their knees.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh! Goodness, Shane, you scared me.”

“You’re the one who fell out of the tree.”

The farmer finger-gunned, “You got me there,” and stood up, gathering the belongings that tumbled from their satchel.

Shane watched them, and smirked at seeing them covered in Earth matter-leaves, moss, dirt-it all seemed to have managed to stick to them as they tumbled down the tree. “You’re covered in dirt.”

“Oh, yeah I am.” The farmer brushed off their apron and body. Dirt, rocks, and leaves fell from their arms, but the moss stayed firmly attached.

Now with a clear view, Shane could see that their skin wasn’t quite right. It looked jaundiced from their shoulders down, where the color faded to a sickly vibrant green down to their finger tips. The moss had attached itself to their elbows and seemed to grow down to their fingertips. As the farmer moved about, their arms coming in and out of scattered streaks of moonlight, he could almost see it blinking at him. Was it growing on their arm? He blinked trying to make sense of it, “No, no I meant your arms have-“

“Oh, Hey Franklin.”

Shane’s jaw hung open on his words. Emerging from the Farmers.. arm moss?.. emerged a little frog. It opened and closed its mouth a few times before letting out a tiny ‘ribbit’.

“Yeah, I found this little guy a few weeks ago and he just didn’t want to leave. He likes to come with me on our nightly mushroom hunts.” Franklin went cross eyed as he focus on a little bug flittering past before catching it with a satisfying crunch. “Oh, that was a good one, Frankie.”

“Okay I’m gonna go now,” Shane regained control of his jaw, resolutely shoved his hands in his pockets, and started to turn away.

“Wait! You’re not gonna tell anyone my secret are you?”

“Tell them what, that you keep a secret frog hidden somewhere in your arm?”

“No, everyone should know about Franklin, he’s precious. I meant-you know what, can I just show you?” The farmer reached out their hand in an offer for Shane to grab.

He hesitated-he only barely knew the farmer, having really only seen them run past him at full speed with a pick axe held high above their head-but he was in desperate need of a distraction tonight.

The farmer, seeing his reservation, offered up, “come sit down with me, I’ll make us some tea.”

“I don’t drink tea.”

“Well I’ll tell you some of my other secrets?”

He was in too deep now, his curiosity overtaking his tentativeness, “Alright.” He accepted their hand; his fingertips flexed atop their hand, cushioned by the lush, damp covering of green.

Holding his hand, they led him to their crash-landing zone under the tree, where they sat down. As the farmer sat, legs tucked into each other, Shane thought he saw their body hesitate mid-air for half a second. He then was sure that he saw a little fairy ring of mushrooms pop out of the ground with a glimmering puff of orange dust as the farmers body finally made contact with the ground.

“Please, sit.” Shane pretended to not be concerned, but the farmer smiled to themselves as they spotted him cautiously glancing down to the ground as he gingerly lowered himself to sit. Satisfied, the farmer opened up their satchel and pulled out their trinkets for tea-two wooden cups, a shiny silver teapot with a mismatched spoon, and a box of vials and jars. Opening, smelling, taking, and closing the little jars, they began to make the tea. The beautiful earthy colors of the roots, grasses, and leaves peeled out over the edge of the cups. Craning their body, they reached over to the other circle of mushrooms where they crashed, and plucked a purple one.

As they filled the teacups, Shane watched in horror as the they grasped a moth straight out of the air, ripped a wing off, and shredded it into the two cups. He hoped to Yoba the ‘tea’ was done, but they pulled out one final vial. Swallowing, he asked, “Who’s hair is that?”

“Don’t worry about it.” The farmer pick up the teapot, cradling it in their palms. As the silver started to glow red hot, the farmers hair flew up, standing straight when the teapot began to steam. They poured the hot water into the cups.

“Okay, I get it, I know what this is.”

“What is?”

“I just had a few too many today, and I’m actually just super hammered right now and it’s making me see things. I’m gonna go to bed, now”

“But I didn’t see you at the saloon today?”

“Well, no, but if I think about it too much I’m gonna freak out a little bit,” he pushed his hands off to stand, “so I’m just gonna say that this isn’t real and-“

The farmer reached out their hand to him once more. He stood, frozen, as he watched twigs emerge from their fingertips, growing into branches, followed by leaves, and finishing with a delicate flower unfurling inches away from where he stood.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Take it.”

“Take it? But it’s.. attached.”

“Just take it,” the farmer smiled.

He picked it, cupping it in his palms, and brought it to his chest. He watched in awe as the flower petals began to sway, and tiny white fairies sprouted from the pollen. Transfixed, he stood holding his breath as the hazy creatures danced around the petals.

While he watched, eyes big and lit up, the farmer quietly pulled out from their satchel a little carved wooden chair. While Franklin hopped down and plopped onto the chair, the farmer plucked another tiny mushroom, removing the stalk, and tipped a mini-portion of tea from their cup into the cap. They handed it to Franklin who busied himself with dunking his head in and out of the tea and screaming into it.

Shane, remembering his need to breathe, finally gasped and attempted to sputter something intelligible out, but just as he thought of a semi-formed sentence, the dancing fairies suddenly burst into a frenzy of colorful fire. They continued their elaborate dance until the last of them fizzled out, and there was nothing left of the dancing flower except misty smoke and white ash.

“You can keep that-here, pour it into here,” they handed an empty vial to Shane, “sprinkle it on your doorstep and it’ll protect you and your loved ones.”

He did as he was told, not even questioning it at this point-he wanted to know more and how and why and what. Finished, he sat back down, facing the farmer, watching them lift the teacup to their lips. “So uh, does the tree thing happen a lot, or just at night, because I’ve seen you during the day and it doesn’t look like that.”

“No, you’re right, see the thing is, it’s when I- HHREEEEEEEEEK!”

Shane tumbled back in shock, catching himself with his elbows and hands. The farmer had let out an awful screech, showing their (formerly enchanting smile) now fanged row of gnarly teeth. In an instant, their eyes grew and melted into dinner plate-sized puddles of green. Shane yanked his head to match the direction of the farmers leer, where he saw a scruffy-looking opossum attempting to sneak their grubby hands around Franklin. The caught-and foiled-thief returned the farmers screech with a feral ‘hiss’ of its own, before it clambered back into dark bushes.

As quickly as the transformation happened, the farmer returned to normal just the same, meeting Shane’s stunned eyes with their own-now regular sized-smiling eyes. “Can’t be letting Franklin become someone’s snack, now can we?” They laughed and smiled to themselves, giving Franklin a little finger pat.

He was stunned, again. He blinked his way around the farmers face and body, searching for something that would make sense of his feelings. Was it repulsion? Fascination? Perhaps even a little attraction? The farmers little twinkling laugh would normally be very charming to him, but the circumstances of it were overwhelmingly frightening… if not still partially alluring. He settled his searching to focus on their smile-they offered it up so freely to him.

The farmer had waited for him to get settled back into a relaxed position before they continued, “Now what was it you were asking me, dear?”

“I was asking about your arms, that they normally aren’t literal trees,” he stoped, “dear?”

“Well, yeah. We’re friends now, aren’t we? Would you prefer me to call you something else?”

“… no, that’s fine.”

They sat together for a few moments in silence while the farmer drank their tea, and Shane gathered the courage to at least sip the leafy moth water. (It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad. He swished his tongue around his mouth to feel for any fuzzy winged remains, but couldn’t find any. It was smooth, and still hot. While he pondered, Franklin made a few flighty hops over to where his foot was resting, and jumped up onto his sneaker-he was trying to bite the laced up shoestrings.

He let out a little laugh-what a strange little animal. He looked up at the farmer and thought ‘what a strange little.. goblin.’ He let himself stare a bit-they didn’t seem to mind. They had taken off their hat by now, and revealed a pair of little pronged antlers that were hidden underneath. They were encrusted with clusters of crystals, which glittered with every turn and tilt of the farmers head. He continued to drink his tea, getting more accustomed to it with each sip, and watched the scattered moonlight refract off the crystals onto the ground. There, where the prismatic light met earth, a misting of teeny white flowers sprouted and bloomed. Shane had always been appreciative of the wonders of nature, but he had never seen it this beautiful. The farmer seemed connected to the earth, each breathing life into the other. It was humbling. And it-they-were beautiful.

The farmer finally caught his eye, and looked down, now a bit embarrassed. They didn’t mind the scrutiny-it wasn’t out of judgement, they knew, just curiosity. Truth be told, the feeling was more of self consciousness than anything. It was always daunting to show anyone their true selves, but to Shane? His gaze was so honest and searching that it was intimidating. Still feeling his eyes on them, the farmer briefly looked up through their lashes to give him a shy smile, and then turned their attention to the lake.

Shane broke the silence, “Any other goblins in their you wanna tell me about,” he motioned to the lake.

“Nah, that lake is occupied already.”

“Ah, I was just playing. Of course, it’s occupied with fish.”

The farmer was silent

He turned to them, only slightly panicky, “With fish right?”

“Mmhmm yeah fish, lots of fish.” They pursed their lips tight and took a nervous sip of their already empty tea.

Shane squinted to the water, studying it, and caught a glimpse of some bubbles rupturing on the distant surface. He scooted closer to the farmer.

With the shoulders pressed up against each other, the farmer reassured him, “Don’t worry, I got you,” and took hold of his hand.

Shane eased his body deeper against their shoulder with a sigh. He took a peek at the farmer’s face just in time to see an attractive blush warm their cheeks. He smiled, and rubbed his thumb over the tops of their knuckles. They sat together, watching the lake, while the moon rose higher in the sky.

“Did you call me a goblin?” The farmer broke the trance.

Shane let out a hearty laugh, “What other kind of magical creature sneaks around in the dark and scares neighborhood children?”

The farmer returned the laugh, and finger gunned once more, “you know what, you got me there again, Shane.” The pair filled the foggy air with the sound of their laughter, pushing their bodies still even closer together.

“If you don’t want your cover blown, you should probably stop doing that, you know, screeching at teenagers.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” the farmer said with a small growl and a wink.

It was Shane’s turn to blush, now. He looked down at their hands, still cupped together, and smiled. “What other magic secrets do you have?”

“ ✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:* Let me show you.*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ “

[yourlocalmaraudersbabe]

Hi could you write a SiriusxReader where Sirius and the marauders pull a big prank that ends with Sirius confessing his love for the reader and asking them out? Thank you so much!!

“Then I’m in love”

Summary: Sirius confesses his feelings to you as you both bask in the prank he helped pull

Pairing: Sirius Black x Gryffindor!reader (Just small little notes like the common room and the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall)

A/N: Hope you like the fic :))) Thanks for the request, my lovely anon <3

Word Count: 1007

Masterlist + Characters and ships I write for

Requests are always open <3

Reminder that I do not support jkr. Do not interact if you do.

Your library visit was practically ruined from the loud whispers of Sirius, Peter, James, and Remus.

“Will you four shut up already?”

“Afraid not— we’re working right now,” Sirius spoke cheekily.

“Oh! Well in that case, speak up, I’d love to eavesdrop.”

He shook his head and laughed, casting a silencing spell around them.

You were finally able to study for exams that were coming, which was much needed.

As you were heading out from the library and walking towards the great hall for lunch, your favorite person came along beside you. “Wanna tell me what was up from before?”

“Just a prank— a little planning. Actually, much needed planning.”

“Oh c’mon Sirius. Don’t do something too bad. Last prank you pulled scored you two weeks detention every evening. You practically abandoned me in the common room.

“S’not my fault! Blame McGonagall.”

“Is too,” you laughed, taking a jab at him.

Arriving at Gryffindor table was a relief as it was just you two so far. Moments were always more enjoyable when it was just Sirius— nobody else.

When you two were in your own little area at the dinner table, you and Sirius liked to work together to make plates of food. It was something so stupid, yet something the both of you couldn’t give up. He piled on the mashed potatoes on the plates as you spooned some vegetables. He had picked out some tender pieces of roast chicken while you started to pour gravy. “Do you know if anyone else is coming down?”

“I’m not quite sure anymore. They said they’d be headed down, but—”

“There they are! My favorite Gryffindor couple,” James' voice rang through the hall.

You looked over to see Lily smacking James on the arm while you chuckled, finally meeting eyes with Sirius who’s cheeks were rose colored, taking another bite of the food on his plate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Today’s the day,” Sirius spoke in a singsong voice as he threw an arm around your shoulders, coming up from behind. You were simply trying to walk to your first class of the day.

You jumped back, flinching under his grasp.

“Merlin, you scared me.”

He dropped his arms, adjusting something in his bag.

“Still can’t tell me what you have planned?”

“Nope,” he grinned. “Nothing messy, just erm— annoying I suppose? I think it’s quite nice actually.”

“I can’t even begin to think about what you have planned, and quite frankly, I don’t want to know.”

“Oh c’mon, you’re not even slightly interested? I think you’re going to like this one.”

“Nope.”

“You’re lying. You love me and the pranks we pull.”

If only he knew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius, James, Remus, and Peter had disappeared from your last class of the day. You were walking back to your dorms to drop off some books, maybe even take a short nap. As you climbed through the portrait hole, you met eyes with Sirius who was walking down the stairs. “Finished,” he gave you a small smile and fake dusted his hands.

“Snape is going to be the death of me. We have an essay due Monday,” you talked about the potions lesson he missed, anything to avoid whatever he just finished.

“Hmm why don’t you go have a lie down?” he spoke in a tone all too familiar— waiting for you to discover something.

You started for your dorm, Sirius right behind you. “What have you done now?”

Opening the door, your eyes darted around the room. Each bed had flowers sprouting from it, the comforters turned to rich, dark soil, mixed with grass.

Much to your surprise, as well as Sirius, something inside of you switched. You laughed, flopping back down onto the bed. “I love these so much,” you mumbled, picking one and sniffing it.

“I told you that you would.”

Sirius leaned against the corner of your four poster bed.

“Well don’t just stand there,” you piped up, relishing in the flowers. He laid next to you on his back, letting out a content sigh. The smell of the flowers enchanted the room even more than magic that already lived there. Sirius’s pinky slowly moved over yours until it was wrapped around it completely. You turn your head smiling as your cheeks got hot. His were already beet red. You reached for his entire hand, slipping the rest of your fingers through his. “I- y/n?”

“Sirius?”

He brought your knuckles up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against them. “I’ve been wanting to say this for some time now. And I was able to get them to pull a little nicer of a prank for you.”

“Wow,” you let out a laugh. “So thoughtful.”

He squeezed your hand, laughing a little with you.

He took a pause, breathing in and out deeply. You admired the way his eyes stared at one spot of the canopy, as if it would tell him what to say next. He turned his head, his eyes meeting yours. “I say,” his voice flipped to a more playful one. “We become Gryffindor’s favorite couple.”

The two of you laughed. “Sirius you better not be—”

“I’m not making a joke or pulling any more pranks, promise you,” he reassured.

“I- James says I’m in love. You’re my best friend and sometimes even more than that. If wanting to wake up next to you each morning, or wanting it to only be us in the Great Hall during meals, or hoping that everyone would leave that stupid common room for an early night so we can have the couches and fireplace to ourselves, or-” he stuttered over the end of his words, eyes darting back and forth, until they met yours again and he calmed down. “Or wanting to kiss you every time I see you is being in love, then—”

You completely cut him off with a kiss, grabbing onto the side of his face. He let go of your hand, holding gently onto your hair where his fingers found their way to.

“Then I’m in love.”

[albaedhoe]

promise

pairing : venti x gn!reader

summary : many people say promises are meant to be broken, but this one? It has been nurtured and cared for for millennia.

contains venti’s story quest spoilers

Unlike Barbatos, who was only a wisp among the thousand winds at the time, you were a young, lesser-known god. For plot sake, let’s say you’re the god of health. Having similar views and wanting to allow humans to have atleast some form of hope, the two of you became fast friends and stuck together within the confinements of old mondstat.

“Please don’t ever leave me.”

“I promise that I will never even think of leaving you, Barbatos. I, Y/n, God of Health, swear my power and life that I will keep this promise until the day I fall from Celestia.”

“W-Wait- you didn’t have to go that far!”

You were there during the events of the rebellion and fought along side those who were trapped under the rule of Decarabian. You were by the side of Barbatos the moment he had become one of the seven, the god of anemo and later changed his name to Venti.

“You took the form of your friend?”

“I...I don’t want to forget what he looks like.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save him on time, I can tell he meant a lot to you.”

“It’s fine! His sacrifice will never be in vain. Just don’t leave me too, as you promised.”

“As I promised.”

A few hundred years pass and growing tired of responsibilities, it didn’t take long for Venti to garner a need to escape, so he did, but not without taking you with him to the human world. While he took on the role of being a bard who played the lyre for others, you preferred a more stable subtle occupation that actually brings home money, such as being a teacher. This way, you can keep tabs on the younger generations of the people of mondstat without suspicion and to make sure that the city won’t fall into ruin because of the lack of education. After all, if that were to happen, everything the rebellion had fought for would be for nothing.

The grass grows green, leaves wilt off the trees, snow falls from the sky, the flowers start to sprout from the ground. The cycle repeating who knows how many times now. But one thing is for sure, Venti is lost. Mondstat does not need nor has needed of the god of winds for a long time. He comes back late to your shared cottage out in the open plains filled with dewy grass and blooming cecillias. On that night, he asks you a question. “Would... Would you allow me to rest for a few years..?”

Don’t get him wrong, Venti would never think of leaving you purposely. He’s just so tired. Your silence and furrowed eyebrows made his heart sink. He didn’t and couldn’t blame you if you had said no. After all of these millennia, you had kept his promise with undying loyalty and sincerity, and here he is, feeling as though he is selfishly taking advantage of your kindness. You even swore on your life and power!

Hanging his head low in shame, he didn’t notice you walk up to him and wrap his head with your arms, burying his face to one of your shoulders.

“I’m not mad at you, rather, I’m upset to think you see me so highly that you need to ask my permission for something, despite being an Archon.” Lifting his head so you could face him, you cup his cheeks and wipe the tears threatening to spill from his eyes with your thumbs. “I only ask that you allow me to spend these last days with you,” you whisper. “Of course,” he responds.

True to his word, he had spent every waking moment with you. Frolicking in the fields, listening to his singing while you read, braiding his hair, cooking dinner.

“V-Venti! You’re not supposed to add that much sugar!”

“Ehe!”

Until the final day came. The sun was bright and the breeze was gentle. Sat in the middle of a field that stretched out for miles, you were fiddling with a flower crown while venti stares up at your beauty with his head atop your lap. He thought about the years spent with you and treasuring every single memory. He thought about how much he appreciates and loves you. He thought about how much you will miss him, if at all and hopes that you won’t find someone to replace him so soon.

“When I’m gone, don’t go off running to find someone to replace me!”

“Don’t make it sound like you’re dying-”

“Done!” You hold up the finished crown of daffodils and cecillias. Venti chuckles at your antics. Gently placing the flower crown to fit his head, you look proud of your work. Comfortable silence fills the air as the two of you enjoy the atmosphere. Taking your hands to cup his face once again, he leans against your touch. “I will be dreaming of you,” Venti says. Leaning down so that the both of your foreheads were touching, you close your eyes. “I don’t doubt it. I hope you rest well, zephyr.” And with that, Venti dissipates into the breeze, only to be awoken when he is ready. Staring at the clouds above you, you smile gently as the winds made your hair dance and birds fly past your vision. An ache in your chest starts to form, “Oh dear...,” you laugh while your left hand rests above your heart.

The clock struck 12, the latest time Venti had ever been out drinking. He had told you earlier on that day that he had earned quite the tip for his entertainment and since he hadn’t drank in so long, he had asked you if it would be alright to splurge it on Master Diluc’s dandelion wine. Who were you to say no? You’re rather proud of him doing something he enjoyed and being rewarded for it, however, despite being an archon, you couldn’t help but worry that in his delusioned state, he wouldn’t be able to defend himself if he were to bump into the wrong crowd.

Slipping on a thick coat, you discreetly transport to an alleyway near Angel Share. Since it was a Friday night, opening hours are much later than other days of the week so no wonder the lights were still on and playful banter could be heard inside. Opening the door, the shouting only got louder. First thing you saw was the owner of the bar, Diluc, looking quite amazed and curious at something, or rather, someone.

“Good Evening, Master Diluc. Would you happen to know if a certain bard is here?”

“Good Evening. He’s actually right infront of you.”

Confused, you looked down at your feet. And low and behold, Venti was sprawled on the floor, cheeks flushed, hat crooked and he was muttering nonsense, you deadpan. Looking back up at Diluc, you reach to grab mora from your pocket.

“How much did he drink this time?”

“Around 37 glasses.”

You honestly weren’t surprised at this point. As you were about to hand over the money, Diluc stops you. “It’s fine, honestly. Watching you have to drag him back to your home builds enough pity in me to spare him the bill.” Waving goodbye and a quick thank you at the young bachelor, you silently think to yourself, ‘Your descendants have the same heart as you, don’t they, Vanessa?’ Slinging Venti’s arm around your other shoulder, you hoist him to his feet.

“For a guy that took form of a young boy that was practically skin and bones, you sure are heavy.” Teleporting to your shared abode, you shuffle to the bedroom. Forcing him to sit on the bed so you could at least change him into more comfortable clothing. “I kneeewww *hic* you’d come for meee *hic* Y/n!” Venti bellows out, arms wiggling as if to set himself free from your touch.

“I’ll drop you.” You threaten, but your hold on him so that he sits up only tightened more. Loosening his corset and unbuttoning his top, you make him put on a casual tunic. “You looooove me too much!*hic*” Not bothering with the bottom half of him, you tuck Venti underneath the covers. Slipping under the blankets with him, you interlock fingers and have eachother. Although his breath stank with alcohol, you couldn’t really care less.

“Thank you for not leaving me after all of these millennia and despite the things you go through just to be with me...” Venti whispers, eyes closed as sleep nearly takes him. Smiling softly, you joined foreheads with him. “I promised to never leave you, Zephyr, remember?”

[yeojaa]

( VELVETEEN RABBIT. )

What do you get when you mix Thumper and Bambi?  Answer:  Jeon Jungkook.

pairing.  french lop bunny!jjk x ragdoll cat f!reader.

genre + rating.   hybrid!au set in college.  super fluffy, a little angsty, with a dash of smut to balance it all out.  explicit towards the end because i just can’t help myself.  oops.

tags / warnings.  honestly, this jungkook should just come with his own warning.  but more realistically, mentions of kook using a scrunchie, kook being cute, kook railing his date after using the world’s worst puns...  the usual.

wc.  4.4k

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ as always become, c’mon.  i’m me.  she’s her.  

author note.  this was written as part of @thebtswritersclub​‘s a hybrid fest and is gloriously late (i’m so sorry @ditttiii​​).  i’ve never written anything hybrid-related before so hopefully you enjoy.  feedback goes a long way!  xoxo

He orders the same thing every time he’s in.  Iced Americano, no room for cream, and a single almond croissant.  (Every once in a while, he switches it up for matcha but that’s exceedingly rare.)  He always pays with a tap of his wrist - a sleek black AppleWatch with rubber band - and flashes his trademark slightly too-big smile.  All the girls swoon.  So do the guys.  Everyone except for you.

He’s unnervingly handsome, with long dark ears that sometimes hang in front of his eyes.  You’ve caught him with them pulled back Lola Bunny-style, knotted with a loose silk scrunchie that looks nearly as soft as his fur.  His hair’s usually unkempt, tossed into a little sprout of a bun, overly long fringe falling all over his big round eyes.  He wears butterfly clips sometimes, though that’s usually on days where he isn’t freshly sweaty and carrying his gym bag.  They appear in his hair when it’s damp from a shower, the smell of papaya and honey clinging to every inch of him.  You know, because you have a great nose - one that’s sensitive to every smell under the sun but especially his.  (You try not to think about it much.)  

It’s a Wednesday morning when you notice the change.  It doesn’t register at first, acknowledgement coming in a curious sniff at the air.  Weird. 

“Thanks,” he says like clockwork, a well-oiled polite machine, deceptively slender hands receiving the exceedingly hot cup without a care in the world. He’s got his usual bag over his shoulder - overly big, black, almost tactical - and a pair of comfortable looking pants on that seem more like they belong on your beloved grandmother.  Somehow, he rocks it (but he always does).  “Have a nice day.”

Because of course he says that.  Of course he steals the words right out of your mouth, turns them back on you as easy as he makes your heart rattle around in your chest like it’s a Friday night bingo ball. 

He moves toward the bar - he only ever grabs three napkins, tucks them into the slot on the left side of his bag - but pauses halfway there.  Rooted to the same spot as always, sleek ears following the imposing line of his shoulders.  

One, two—

The thumping starts, so quiet it’s almost negligible.  But you catch it, because you always do and because you’re the reason for it. 

He turns then, levels you with a look from the corner of those pretty, pretty eyes and you can’t help but laugh, openly, unashamedly, with the back of your hand plastered to your mouth. A true ojou-sama. 

His mouth quirks - does that funny thing where he sucks in his cheek then rolls it back out with his tongue - and you think he might finally say something.  Call you out for writing his name wrong for the past five weeks, finding more and more creative ways to do so every time.  Even occasionally using nicknames - silly things you’d come up with while on the walk home, or during lunch, or in bed.

“Good one,”  he states, laugh lines threading over his face, prominent around his eyes.  His nose wiggles with the sound - another of his traits that comes out to play often.  Your favourite of them all, if you’re being honest.

“Anytime.”  

You don’t realise it’s him until it’s too late, until you’re practically running into him, bouncing off the broad expanse of his back with a startled squeak.  Lucky for you, you’re quick on your feet, catching yourself before your skull can become too well-acquainted with the red brick wall to your right.

“You okay?”  Though he asks, you have a sneaking suspicion he knows you’re not and an even stronger suspicion that he’d been waiting for you, hovering past the entrance of the cafe with his big university hoodie on.

“Barely,”  you manage around a laugh, straightening the backpack slung over your shoulders, packed to the brim with goodies you got to bring home at the end of the night and two of your textbooks.

“Should watch where you’re going.”  

This is the most conversation you’ve had - ever.  But it’s fun, easy, organic and natural.  You wonder why that is. 

“You should watch where you’re standing, actually.”

He’s so much bigger than you, imposingly tall (especially being part of the Leporidae family) and wide in the chest.  Not bulky by any means, but big.  Strong.  Threaded with a strength you don’t normally see in hybrids of his kind.  It probably has to do with how often you see him covered in sweat and panting, basketball hooked under his arm, soccer cleats tied to his bag.

When he speaks again, it’s full of mirth, squeezing his round eyes near shut.  “Got a problem with me standing here?”  

You nod, solemn as ever (which is really never, but that’s besides the point).  “It’s dangerous to block entryways, didn’t you know?”  You’re gesturing to the awning, the dark interior just past the window of the shop.  “You’re loitering, Jungkook.”

“So you do know my name.”  You can tell he’s not surprised - that he’s hamming it up for dramatics, softly pink lips rounded in a little ‘O’.  He’s cute like this, you think.  Playful in a way you’ve never seen before.  

“I do?” 

There’s that cheek thing again.  It’s even more attractive up close, the shape of his jaw thrown into prominent relief when he sucks in a breath.  

“You just said it.”

You nod, thoughtful, finger tapping upon your chin.  “I guess I did.”

“Say it again,”  he states, expression inscrutable, eyes bright.  They’re so glossy even under the dimmed streetlights, impossibly big and undeniable.  So easy to get lost in - if your attention weren’t caught by something else.

“What is that?”  

You’d noticed it earlier in the day, caught the scent in passing sometime during the early hours.  You’d been unable to place it then, too distracted by freshly ground coffee, a girl’s three too many spritzes of Daisy by Marc Jacobs, and baking banana loaves.

It’s heady, masculine.  A strong musk that sinks into your nose and makes it twitch, ears rotating as if that’ll help pin the smell down.  

“What’s what?”  You hadn’t realised how close you’d become, your face five seconds from planting directly into his chest.  (It’d probably be nice - you know how soft your school’s merchandise is.)  “Are you okay?”  He asks because you’re now, actually, planting your face right against the worn navy cotton.  It’s terribly nice, silk upon your cheek.  

You answer more to his clothes than to him, nosing into the fabric. “You smell different.”

You feel more than hear his laughter, the sound barreling past his teeth seconds later.  The vibrations running along his spine jostle you from your position face first upon him but you don’t mind.  It doesn’t send you far, dark eyes peering up into the face of the bunny hybrid.  True to his kind, his nose is twitching, puffs of laughter expanding his cheeks when he meets your stare. 

“No I don’t.”

“You do.”  Tone firm, a finger lands upon the neatly embroidered N on his hoodie.  The white stitching stands in stark contrast to your baby blue nails.  “You smell… off.”

Whether Jungkook’s offended or not, you can’t tell.  He’s got that same strange expression on his face - the one from this morning when he’d received his coffee.  It’s made up of too many moving parts:  the flutter of his lashes, the coil of his jaw, the minute tick of the corner of his mouth.  You can’t read him for shit, somehow more confused now than in your 300-level art history class.  (You’d taken it as one of your optional electives assuming it’d be an easy A.  You were wrong.)

“Sorry you think so,”  he hums, looking down at you.  You’ve seemed to fully forget the meaning of personal space, edged up beside him as if you’re best friends and not just two ships passing in the night. 

“It’s not bad.”  Really, it isn’t.  It’s strong and sensual, vegetal in a way, calming in another.  But it isn’t unwelcome. 

In fact, you think you might like this scent a little more - less sweet than what normally clings to his skin, natural honeycomb rather than processed sugar.  It zings across your teeth, pieces broken up and scattered behind your molars.  You can practically taste it.  Him.

“Is that so?”  

“Yep.”

You share a look - one that says more than all the words you’ve ever spoken, that threads together all the silly laughter, narrowed stares, (written) flirtations.  It settles between the two of you, filling the spaces with something akin to cotton, light and airy and soft.

The desire to speak lingers, hidden just beyond the cotton candy dusting.  Should you?  Shouldn’t you?  You still have no idea what he’s doing here, a street urchin making his rounds on the campus village.  

He beats you to it.  “Can I walk you back to your dorm?”  

You don’t think you could want anything more.  “Sure.”

Silence falls again but it’s comfortable, a caress rather than a crutch.  The grounds are surprisingly quiet - wayward students on their way to the library or heading home from lectures.  There are no picnic blankets spread across the grass, no gaggles of girls dressed in school colours.  It feels like the first day of fall, change sitting heavy in the air. 

“So—”  You start.

He finishes,  “do you wanna go on a date with me?” 

That’s surprising.  (Or is it?  You’re not really sure.)  You nearly trip over your own two feet in your haste to look at him, entire body swivelling on the spot because apparently you can’t just turn your head like a normal person.  Something something all or nothing. 

“What?”  

“Do.  You.  Want.  To—”  He’s being insufferable for the hell of it.  You can see it in his eyes, glossy things shining down at you like he’s got the entire fucking nightsky hung in them.  

“Not if you keep that up,”  you retort, though you both know you’re lying.  You’ve been waiting - wishing, wanting - for this moment since the day you laid eyes on him.  Since Yuri had elbowed you so hard in the ribs you’d thought you’d be bruised for days, since Jae had rambled on and on for his entire shift about the cute new bunny who’d come in that morning.  Since that very first wrongly spelt name on his plastic cup and every visit since.  

“Is that a challenge?”  

“You won’t get it in.”  

He scoffs, loud and drawn out, cheek rounding with disbelief at your disbelief.  How can you possibly doubt him - school basketball star and all-around athletic freak of nature? 

“What do I get if I do?”  The ball rests in his palm, poised to be shot through the hoop, sunk without making contact with the rim.  He’s confident - he’s done it a million times.  

“A pat on the back?”  As much as you tease him - loop mockery around nearly every syllable you speak, you’re endlessly supportive, already carrying the fruits of his labour under your arms.  A Pikachu shoved haphazardly into the purse slung across your body, a Snorlax tucked under your arm at an awkward angle that crushes his poor head, a Sylveon tucked into the side pocket of his joggers.  (The arcade was really into Pokemon, apparently.)  “Me saying thank you?”

“Not good enough.”  He leans in close - those big galaxy eyes practically swallowing you whole - and taps a single finger upon your nose.  It makes your nostrils flare, an itch blooming under his touch.  “Gotta sweeten the deal.”

You must look hilarious because Jungkook’s biting back a smile, smirking down at you.  Then, all at once, without breaking eye contact, he’s extending his arm, flicking his wrist, and— swish!  

In goes the ball, leaving him with a perfect score.  

“I want you to stay the night.”

You think he’s joking.  He must be joking.  This is your third date.  

But he’s staring at you like he’s completely serious, gaze expectant, lips pursed around something that reads like a smile but has your heart doing a strange little one-two step in your chest.  It soars for a moment, high above the clouds like the string orchestra of a choral work - Beethoven’s Ninth in D minor. 

“Are you propositioning me, Jeon Jungkook?”  It’s the same reaction he always has when you say his name: a twitch of his ear, the corner of his bottom lip quirking and then resetting, eyes so sparkly it’s almost absurd.

“No.  I’m just telling you what I want.”

“Huh.”  You should say no.  Guys like him - with charm that oozes out of every pore, whose offhanded smiles break more hearts than you ever have - are almost always bad news.  Too sweet, too funny, simply too much for your feeble heart to take.  

“Is that a yes?”  He’s got you in his clutches - a viper rather than a hare, with a smile so dangerous you’re paralysed by just the sight of it.  (Who needs venom?)

Your words catch in your throat, stick to one another like the deformed gummies at the bottom of the movie theatre bag.  What comes out isn’t what you expect.  “Okay.”

Damn you.  Damn him.  Damn how good he smells and the big dumb grin that spreads over his lips, sunshine in human form, undeniable and warm and cute enough to start a war over.  (That’s probably what’s happening - a vicious battle between your head and your heart.)  

Damn his stupid thumping foot that you can make out over the sound of the video games, the boisterous din.  It’s so cute you can’t help yourself from smiling, mouth pulling and pursing around the delight that begs to be freed.  

“Cool,”  he says, and you almost think that’s not very cool.  He’s so nonchalant, cavalier about it as if it means nothing.  You’d be bothered if you felt like you didn’t know him so well - hadn’t learnt his idiosyncrasies over the last two months.  

How he looks when he laughs really hard, his slightly too-big front teeth taking up all the real estate in his mouth.  How he sounds when he’s tired (groggy, with a lisp that rarely sees the light of day otherwise) or when he’s told he’s wrong (pouty, with his bottom lip jutted out so cutely you want to scream).  How he runs every morning, hits the gym every night, and eats double your protein because fitness, bro!  How his cheat meal of choice is soy garlic fried chicken from the place off-campus and he hates tangy, tart desserts (your lemonade lip gloss not included, he insists).  How he can’t sleep if he’s too hot - which he often is - and he spends way too long combing through his ears with a specialty brush he doesn’t let anyone touch.  How he’s secretly raindrops and gummy bears and hand holding in the car, so much more than his high school superlative of most likely to grace the cover of GQ.

You wonder, because you know those things, does that make you special?  Does it make you immune to the heartbreak that you swear you imagine whenever your mood drops (not often, but often enough)?  

You hope so.

“Let’s go shoot guns?”  He’s tearing you from your reverie, planting an open-mouthed kiss to your temple.  It’s sloppy and not very refined, much less suave than what you’d expect from your school’s soccer captain (and basketball small forward and swim team stand-in).  You suppose that’s why you like him so much - because he’s always surprising you, keeping you on your toes. 

“Let’s.”  You agree, letting your date drag you toward the Time Crisis machine.  It’s blissfully unoccupied, allowing the two of you to slide into place.  He takes the blue gun, you the red.  

He squeezes your hip when you take up position, one eye squeezed shut as you look down the barrel of the plastic weapon.  “Better not let me die.”

“Better not get shot,”  you return.  

He doesn’t listen - failing halfway through the helicopter scene, his shot missing and resulting in some sad miserable death in the form of Continue? blinking across the screen.  Neither of you mind that much though.  He occupies himself on his phone, free hand tucked into the back pocket of your jeans.  You play better when he’s not shouting terrible call-outs, nearly crashing into you because he gets so into it.

(How he’s never got a concussion on the basketball/soccer/etc. field before, you’re not sure.)

By the time you’re done - a good five minutes later, you think - Jungkook’s growing restless, tugging at your belt loops enough that you stumble with every shot, nearly knocking yourself out when you have to steady yourself on the centre console.  

“Kook!”  Your glare is barely that, too affectionate to dissuade him from his childish antics.  

He pulls you forward, traps you between his thick thighs, tattooed hands settling comfortably on your hips.  “Let’s go home.”

“Someone’s in a hurry.”

Of course, he doesn’t deny that.

It’s not the first time you’ve been over.  Not even your second or third.  You’ve met up with him before his games, thrown his jersey overtop and helped him wrap his fingers before hitting the court.  You’d even had to grab his cleats for him once, running across campus as he did drills in his socks as punishment.

This time feels different.  You know why but it doesn’t make it an easier pill to swallow.  It lodges somewhere in your throat, makes it hard to breathe when you kick off your shoes and tuck them neatly beside Jungkook’s.  

“Are you hungry?”  He’s already in the small kitchen, glancing over his shoulder at you as you linger in the adjoining hallway, bag halfway over your head.  

“I’m good.”  You are, really.  You’d eaten one donut too many at the arcade, indulged in a little too much disgusting nacho cheese goodness.  You don’t really understand how your date’s still hungry, a cucumber crunching between his teeth when he turns back to you. 

Standing there, vegetable devoured in quick, decisive bites, he looks every inch the French lop bunny he is.

You reach him in the same instant he finishes his midnight snack.  Arms fold around you like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing, head dropping to rest comfortably upon yours.  Like this, his ears tickle your cheek - velveteen fur lost to the silk of your hair.  “Are you tired?”  

Another no comes - spoken into the fuzzy fabric of his sweater - and he hums above you, whole frame rattling with the noise.  

“No bed then?”  

At least he’s transparent, you think.

“One track mind much?”  You’re only teasing.  A part of you looks forward to… whatever it is that sits over the horizon, lost past the creaky bedroom door and somewhere beneath his surprisingly soft sheets.  (You’d asked about them once - he’d told you his mother liked to send him housewares to remind him of home.  He was a real mama’s boy that way.)

The monster only laughs, snuggles into your hair like it’s home.  “Can you blame me?”  

You can’t do much of anything when he’s like this - so utterly adorable and enticing and good for your heart that it feels as if you’ve taken a straight dose of morphine.

“Let’s go to bed, Wookie.”  Another nickname, recently coined after you’d spent an evening watching Star Wars for the first time.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You whack him on the way to his bedroom, smack a hand over the arm curled around your shoulders.  He pretends like it hurts, howls in a way he he thinks resembles a wounded animal but really just sounds stupid.  “Not a ma’am.”

“Sir?”  He asks, just to make you laugh. 

“If you don’t shut up—”  

He pushes you through the door of his bedroom while giggling to himself, sound puffing out of his cheeks.  “Don’t be mad, kitten.”  The two of you drop to the bed, a tangle of limbs and silken fur and squeaking laughter.  “You’re so purr-ty when you’re annoyed.”

He’s doing it again.  Dropping those stupid cat puns that make your nose wrinkle, ink-tipped ears folding back against your head.   

“I think I’m hiss-terical, don’t you?”  

Face adamantly buried into his sheets, you don’t give him the time of day.  You don’t even care that your mascara is probably rubbing off against the charcoal fabric, lipstick tint doing potentially irreversible damage.  He knows how unfunny you find these jokes, how you’ve heard them your whole life and roll your eyes so hard your optic nerve might sever every time you face another.  

What’s the point of sharing your pet peeves with him when all he does is lean into them?  Use them against you like it’s the cool thing to do.  Make you wonder what you’d seen in him when he was just another customer, another boy in Seoul National indigo and bedhead so dishevelled it begged to be managed.  

(You’re not sure why you’re so irritated suddenly, caught in the clutches of a moodswing as you curl into your side and ignore his bad jokes.)

Stupid Jeon Jungkook.  Annoying, silly, too-cool-for-his-own-good Jeon Jungkook.  

Jeon Jungkook who makes you second guess your choices, leaves you breathless and confused with just one dumb look.  Who has convinced you into his bed and teases you mercilessly, snickering to himself as his foot bounces against the floorboards because he finds himself that funny.

“Baby?”  The pet name comes, presses itself past your curtain of hair and invades your thoughts.  

You say nothing, adamantly faced away.

He doesn’t like that, sneaking his hands around you and cradling you into his chest as if that’ll lighten the mood.  (It does, a little bit, but you don’t tell him that.)  “Don’t ignore me,”  he mumbles, warmth breath tickling your ears, fingers dancing over the rungs of your ribs as if they’re ivory and not bone, playing a tune only he can hear.

“Stop with the shitty jokes,”  you retort.  You’re being difficult - can feel the vinegar turning your blood even as he tries to will it all away.

You feel the intake, the rise and fall of his broad chest.  You can only imagine how hard he’s biting his tongue, careful to keep his next errant pun at bay.  People don’t tell him no - only you.  Maybe that’s why you do it, to remind him you’re not just like everyone else.  

“Sorry.”  

You don’t tell him to show you how sorry— but he does anyway.

You’re astounded by him, utterly entranced by the way he moves.  How power runs the length of his frame, manoeuvres each of his limbs and turns your own to jelly.  

He’s got you face down, ass up, hands cradling your hips like they’re his home and he can’t bear to let go.  Every upward stroke feels like heaven - feels like a million lifetimes of pleasure you can barely wrap your thoughts around.  He’s impossibly big, thick and long.  The first thought you’d had when he’d stripped his black Calvin Kleins was pretty.  

You realise now there’s nothing pretty about him.  He’s filthy - the devil come to collect as he fucks you across his bed, nearly loses you to the pillows at the head with each snap of his hips.  (What they said about rabbits was true, you think.)

“B-Bunny,”  you sob, scratch over cotton that’s worn soft and smells exactly like your favourite sweater of his.  The linens are defenseless, tangled up and wrinkled with each flex of your fingers, bunched up within your palms every time he buries himself like he’s looking for the answer to life, thinks he might find it within the fluttering walls of your pussy.

“Not my name.”  When he sounds like this, he’s more predator than prey, a thousand volts of electricity shooting up your spine.  He’s demanding and unrelenting.  It makes your head spin.

“Wook—”  

“Not.”  Bunny teeth are just as painful as a feline’s, doing their job as they dig into the flushed skin over your back, marking his territory with two prominent indents right between your neck and shoulder.  “A.”  He ruts into you as if he’s got something to prove, snaps his hips to a beat you can’t keep up with.  “Wookie.”  Grips you so tight you might snap, red blooming beneath his hands.

You sob under him, drool against the pillows because you can’t seem to keep your mouth shut.  (You feel like Jungkook post-win, spewing nonsense as he prattles on about game winning plays with his teammates.)

“K-Kookie.”  It’s what he wants to hear - hits him right in the chest, a bull’s eye to the thing that beats wildly and in tandem with your own.  

His rhythm stutters.  The bed is shaking and not because he’s practically breaking the weak wooden frame.  No, his foot’s thumping, bouncing across the sheets even as he tries to regulate the roll of his hips, return it to the assured, teeth-numbingly good tempo it’d been at.  

It doesn’t work.  You love it anyway.  Like it more, because it means he’s just as affected by you as you are him. Your heart sings, leaps out of your chest on hummingbird wings, and dances around your head.  You’re a goddamn cartoon - Pepé Le Pew in ragdoll form - animated pink shapes circling like a crown.

You don’t care.  You can’t.  Not when he plasters himself to your back and asks you to say it again, begs you to tell him how good he is, tells you how he wants to make you his.  

Who cares if it’s three dates in, if your meeting was cliched and silly and he’s the campus heartthrob?  

You don’t - because he’s yours and when he flips you onto your back and you curl your fingers into his hair, it’s your name he stutters out.  It’s you who has him coming apart beneath your hands, the feel of his ears like velvet, the little whines he huffs growing louder each time you tug at the base.  It’s you who knows what he sounds like as he falls to pieces, throws himself against you as if gravity demands it.  It’s you who holds him to sleep, whose skin acts as a canvas for the doodles he traces as he drifts off.  

It’s you and it’s him and that’s enough.

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