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janasrdhr · 22 days

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Stay - Simon “Ghost” Riley

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Warning(s): Major Character Death, Explicit Language, Angst

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Ghost signals to proceed towards the fourth floor of the building, indicating it as the final hurdle to overcome.

An eerie silence envelops the surroundings.

Suddenly, Ghost forcefully pulls you downward with a shout, sending waves of pain coursing through your body.

In the midst of chaos, an explosion shatters the floor beneath you.

You find yourself wounded, partially trapped under concrete, as Ghost's voice reaches you amidst the wreckage.

“You stay with me. Don’t you die on me. That’s an order.”

You whimper, your body wracked with excruciating pain, swallowing hard as your eyes glaze over.

Ghost's arms wrap around your body tightly. His touch firm, reassuring. His eyes are locked into yours. He needs to see you holding onto him. To see your eyes and make sure that you're still there. That you're not gone.

He looks at your chest. His hand presses up against it. He needs to see your chest rise and fall beneath the rubble.

“Stay with me. Stay. Please.”

Your hand darts up, seizing his own in a desperate grasp, fingers trembling to match the tremors of his own chest. “I-it hurts,” you stammer, the pain coursing through you like molten lava, threatening to consume you whole.

You're losing strength. He can see your free hand struggling to grip his hand as tightly as it was.

He's silent for a moment, then a short, quick command to no one in particular.

“I need morphine now.”

The rubble starts moving slightly, and you know that Ghost can't move you just yet.

But he's not leaving your side.

“You stay with me dove, yeah?”

“It hurts so much. F-fuck...I can't-” you heave, drawing in air as though each labored breath were a lifeline.

“I need you to do somethin' for me, dove.”

Ghost's voice is firm. Almost an order. But his grip on you is gentle, as if he doesn't want to hurt you more than you are already hurting.

“You're goin' to take slow, deep breaths. And you're goin' to keep lookin' at me. Only me.”

You nod pitifully, your concussed head barely able to comply, your consciousness teetering on the brink.

“Good girl.”

The rubble continues to shift. As the debris slowly gets removed from your body. The morphine slowly enters your system. Pain alleviating, as the world starts to spin.

“I need you to stay awake for me, love?”

Ghost's voice is reassuring, comforting, warm. Even with the mask covering his mouth, his eyes are intent - waiting. Waiting to see if you're still there.

“Stay with me.”

Your eyes begin to roll back, struggling as if trying to stitch themselves shut.

“Dove.”

Ghost's tone is urgent now. As if he's going to shake you into staying awake. Into living.

“I need you to look at me. Look at me.”

His grip presses into your hand. Trying to find some semblance of life in you. It must kill him to see you like this. See you suffer.

“Look at me, pretty.”

Your eyes snap open, fueled by the dwindling remnants of your energy, slowly succumbing to the pull of slumber; despite the plea in his usual taut voice.

“That's it,” Ghost whispers, his voice filled with relief.

“Don't you dare close your eyes. Keep lookin' at me. Keep lookin'.”

There's still rubble pinning you to the ground. The EVAC team trying their hardest to free you - and keep you alive.

“Don't you close your eyes again. Ya hear me?”

“...s-so tired...” You stutter, your voice faltering, as weariness grips you like a heavy cloak.

His voice, normally resonant and commanding, now carries a plea, a desolate edge honed by urgency. Each word is measured, and delivered with a staggering resolve. A raw vulnerability that struggles to break free from its jagged, rusty confines, something only you seem to have the key to. It echoes the weight of unspoken fears and the fervent hope of finding salvation amid turmoil.

God, does he push on. For you.

Anything for you.

“Keep lookin'.”

You're slipping away. His grip on you grows tighter as he pleads.

“Don't you go on me. Ya hear that? Don't you go on me.”

It would tear his heart out to lose you. He knows that. He knows just as well as you do.

But you have to stay. You have to stay.

“Ghost,” you stammer, your words catching in your throat like a fish struggling against a hook, “I d-don't think I can...”

“You have to. You get me?”

He's so desperate. So desperate. He can't lose you. Not here. Not now where you lie in a pile of rubble. Where everything is chaos.

There's noise around you, the rubble being lifted, the sound of feet and voices.

Your hand, barely clinging to him, tightens ever so slightly, a silent plea for reassurance.

“I-If I don't make it...you'll miss me, r-right?”

“Don't you dare talk like that, dove.”

Ghost's voice cracks. His grip has tightened to the point that it's painful.

“You're makin' it out of here, and I'm not leavin' until you do.”

His eyes narrow.

“You're not goin' anywhere.”

A solitary tear escapes, tracing a silent path down the contours of your weary face. “I...I'll miss you,” you confess, your voice trembling with emotion, each word a delicate thread in the tapestry of your heartache. “So much...”

“You're not dyin', damn it.”

Ghost hisses the words. The frustration is evident in his voice. The fear and dread, the knowledge of just how close you're to the end of the line.

Ghost can't even begin to describe the emotions he's feeling. The guilt over bringing you to this. The anger over someone else doing this to you.

A strained whimper manages to escape your parched throat. “I-...I had everything planned, y-y'know?” you confess, your voice strained, carrying the weight of stolen expectations. “E-Everything.”

“Shut it.”

It's quiet this time. As if Ghost is trying to deny the truth in those words. As if he can push it back and make it not real.

“Shut up... you're not thinkin' like that. Don't you dare.”

A pause as a tear falls from his eye. A low, grunted curse as his lips tighten under the balaclava.

Your words emerge in fragments, like fragile petals torn from a wilting flower, each syllable a struggle against unspoken desires.

“I...I wanted,” you begin, your breaths strained as if wrestling with unseen burdens. “I wanted to marry you.” you manage to confess amidst the tumult of your emotions, the words hanging in the air like delicate threads on the verge of snapping.

“And...and children...” you choke back tears, the image of a future slipping through your trembling grasp. “I imagined...a home,” you continue, your voice a whispered plea, “filled with love.” But even as you struggle to speak, the words falter, slipping away like sand through your fingers.

“I...I can't hold on,” you admit, weak gasps punctuating the realization of time slipping inexorably away. Tears stream down your cheeks, each drop a testament to the depth of your longing.

“I wanted...so much.” your voice trails off, fading into the silence battered breaths.

“Stop.”

Ghost tries. He tries to block it. The truth. The reality.

You're lying here, barely hanging on. The life within your body slipping away.

“Don't say that. It's...”

There's a pause as he swallows hard.

“It's not slippin' away.”

Another beat as his grasp on you loosens slightly. The fear, the anger, the panic, the pain, the guilt. It's all in his voice. His voice cracking. Breaking.

“A d-destination wedding,” you manage, a dry chuckle escaping your lips, as if dust had settled upon your laughter.

“Italy....Tuscany.” Your voice wavers, painting a picture of distant shores and moonlit sands. “On the beach, m-maybe? Barefoot, under the nighttime sky. Just us and the stars,” Your thoughts drift away by the current of your yearning.

“White roses...everywhere,” you continue, the image forming in your mind's eye like a fragile constellation.

“I love white roses...” you trail off, lost in the reverie of what could have been.

Ghost listens to your dreams. Your thoughts of a future together. A life together.

A faint smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. His eyes narrow more as it's barely noticeable, only if you really look at his face.

“Italy.” Ghost repeats, his voice stronger now. “White roses.”

A pause as he swallows hard. A deep sigh to collect himself.

“What else?”

“It s-should be intimate,” you falter, your voice wavering with sincerity, "just family and friends with us.” You pause, gathering your thoughts before continuing with a soft giggle, “I've always imagined Captain Price officiating, maybe even walking me down the aisle too...”

“Price?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. The faintest of smirks pull at the corner of his mouth for a moment.

“No chance in hell is Price going to be our priest.”

It doesn't last long. That faint flicker of joy. Because it's drowned out by everything else.

“Why not?” you pout, suppressing the pain coursing through you as you raise your gaze to meet his.

“Because, believe it or not, Price still has a level of professionalism to him. He's not going to be marrying off some of his best soldiers in the middle of a war.”

Ghost tries to smile. Tries to find some humor in this situation.

“Besides, he wouldn't know how to officiate a proper wedding ceremony. He'd just ramble on about how the relationship is a battle.”

You laugh softly, a melody to him. “I also w-wanted to retire from the military,” you confess, your words weaving a tapestry of aspirations. “Opening a bakery or a floral shop... or maybe both,” you muse, letting the possibilities dance.

“A bakery... a floral shop.”

Ghost's voice is soft, almost a whisper as he speaks.

“I'd buy an entire bakery from you just to try some of whatever you'd make.” he chuckles lightly. A breath as he swallows hard.

“And a floral shop,” His grip tightens ever so slightly on your hand.

“I'd buy that, too. I'd bring you flowers every day. All sorts. Roses. Sunflowers. Lilies. Hydrangeas...”

You shake your head, a wince flickering across your features like a shadow passing over the sun. Almost instantly, you feel the sting of ripped arteries creeping in. “Just white roses,” you murmur.

“...white roses,” Ghost repeats quietly, his grip on you softening.

“I'd bring you white roses, dove.”

Another pause. The silence is deafening.

“White roses. The brightest, most beautiful ones out there.”

Just for you.

You gaze upwards, absorbing the expanse of the skies above, as if embracing the vastness of the unknown that lies ahead. “I'll have to get used to this,” you whisper, the realization settling in like a gentle breeze on a summer day.

“Two kids,” you continue, your voice progressively dimming, “a boy and a girl. Spend everyday t-taking care of 'em, watching 'em grow” With a tremble in your voice, you add, “I'll send you off to work each day, stealing a kiss from you b-before you go.”

“Two kids, I can agree to that. A boy and a girl, definitely. You'll spoil them horribly though.” he teases gently, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

A long pause. The sounds of the world around them finally register. The sounds of the medics working to free you.

“W-wouldn't,” you muse, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “our daughter become a daddy's girl?”

“Our daughter...she'll definitely be a daddy's girl. But our son...” Ghost's voice softens. “...our son would be a mommy's boy. For sure.”

He'd be just as protective of his mother as she is of him."

“What would you name her?” you inquire.

Ghost hesitates for a moment. As if he's trying to pick the perfect name.

“Beth.”

He pauses again.

“She'd be a lovely little girl. She'll have her mother's smile. Her mother's laugh. Her mother's heart.”

“And what name would you give our son, my love?” Simon asked.

You ponder, feeble eyes fluttering.

“Tommy.”

“Tommy,” Ghost repeats. The ghost of a smile is just barely visible under the mask.

Another beat as he holds you tightly. As if by holding you, he can make things right again.

“...yeah. Tommy's a good name.”

You find yourself whimpering more frequently now, each sound a plaintive note in the symphony of your agony as the pain sets in again. “I...I don't wanna die,” you murmur, your words a fragile plea.

“You're not going to die. You're not going to die”

But Ghost doesn't seem entirely convinced with his own words.

The medics are still working furiously to free you.

But the fear and anxiety inside of him is clear. He's afraid that he's losing you. That the wounds you've suffered are irreversible.

He tries to block it. To be strong for you. But he can't deny that feeling inside of him. The dread.

“I don't wanna leave, Ghost,” you sob, the words choked with emotion, longing to remain by his side.

“I know...I know.” He whispers, his words soft.

“I don't want you to go, either.”

Oh, how he didn't.

The medic finally manages to remove a large piece of rubble that was weighing you down.

“Stay with me. Focus on me,” he tells you softly, gently squeezing your hands.

“Look into my eyes.”

You let out a piercing scream as the oppressive weight is finally lifted from you.

Ghost's grasp on you tightens. He holds you tighter, squeezing your hands even harder as if somehow, he can spare your pain.

“Keep lookin' at me, dove,” he whispers.

“Lemme see those pretty eyes.”

You sob uncontrollably, each breath a struggle as if your lungs were drowning in white-hot pain. “Don't leave me,” you plead, your voice a trembling whisper. “s-so scared..."

“I'm not leavin' you.”

His voice cracks. His grip tightens even further so as to try and relieve your own pain.

“I am not leavin' you.”

Another beat as Ghost forces himself to continue. To look at you. To stare into your eyes as if he could somehow spare you from this.

“Just keep holdin' me and everythin' will be okay.”

He tries to soothe your pain, rubbing your shoulders with one hand and squeezing you tightly with the other.

“Yeah? Everythin' will be okay.”

You nod, your grasp on him tightening every so often.

“He should have your eyes,” you murmur, a sentiment blooming between you once more.

“He'd be as strong as you, as brave as you, as protective as you...as s-safe as you are.”

“He would.”

Ghost tries to smile. To imagine the son that he'd have.

“He'd be as stubborn as me, too.”

You break into a soft smile, “You'd be a g-good father, Simon,” you murmur, your words carrying certainty.

The smile falters. The realization hitting him again.

Ghost's grip on you tightens further. This is the only thing he can do to prevent himself from breaking down.

“Yeah," he murmurs. “I-...I'd be a good father. Yeah.”

Two heartbeats.

One irregular, the other irregular too.

“....A-And our daughter?”

“Our daughter.”

Ghost's voice cracks.

“She'd be so beautiful. The light of my life.”

Another heartbeat as a tear rolls down his cheeks.

“Like her mother.”

Your hold on him slackens, as your exhausted eyelids surrender to an eternal slumber. Yet, even in your final moments, a serene smile graces your lips, an enduring emblem of peace. As you draw your last breath, you depart adorned with that same tranquil expression, leaving behind a poignant echo of your essence.

“Like you.”

A pained whimper escapes Ghost. Soon, a sob.

“She'll definitely be like you.”

Another beat before he whispers again.

“But you should live to see her. You should live to see our son...”

Your vision blurs, colours fading into shades of grey as the world around you dims. Sounds muffle and distance themselves, like echoes fading into the night. Surrendering to the engulfing pain, you muster the last of your strength to whisper a fragile declaration: “I love you.”

Another beat before a soft cry hitches in his throat.

Another whisper.

“Don't leave...”

Ghost's grip on you tightens. He whispers one more time.

“Stay...”

Your chest stagnates, trapped in a moment of suspended animation, as if time has folded in on itself. The vibrant hues drain from your once radiant skin, leaving it as pale and lifeless as cold wax. Your body begins to chill, a stark reminder of the journey ahead. Muscles slacken, limbs surrendering to a weighty lethargy. The rhythmic ebb and flow of your chest's rise and fall fades into a profound silence. Consciousness slips away like a whisper on the wind, leaving behind naught but a hollow, silent void.

Ghost squeezes you tighter. Trying to fight the inevitable.

But he can feel it.

He's losing you.

Slowly, your grip goes slack. The rise and fall of your chest stops. Your once warm body growing cold.

The medics are still working, trying to remove the rubble that remains.

All Ghost can do is hold you. Hold you in his arms.

All he can hear is the silence. The void.

“Stay...”

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masterlist - cod masterlist

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keen-li · 13 days

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What you need | 01

Synopsis: everybody needs, but how do you define need?

Do you even know what you need.

Genre: best friends au, angst, fluff, smut, slow burn.

Jungkook x reader.

Prev | next

The last thing you’d want to being doing while going through a break-up, is walking into this building and putting more energy, which you don’t have, into pretending like you’re okay.

When you’re in fact not.

You have to deal with a raging hangover, because you thought it would be a great idea to drown your misery with some alcohol. All night long. loneliness has its gross skinny little fingers around you.

This break-up is fucking you up sideways. If not in all ways.

‘’what happened to you?’’ your head throbs harder at the sound of that heavy voice.

‘’what do you want?’’ you murmur out and your fingers get to work with rubbing your temples.

‘’i wanna know what happened to you?’’ you know his question is far from caring or interested in your well being.

Your tiny office feels more claustrophobic with the way he just seems to hover over.

‘’look hoseok, I’m a little out of it today’’ you don’t even stare at him ‘’so i can’t provide you with any witty comeback, sorry’’

For a split, single particle of light second; he feels bad for you. But then he remembers:

‘’whether you’re in or out of it, you’ve got work.’’ He slaps a file on your table ‘’get working’’

You know hoseok is one of your headaches and he always proves how he’s so great at it.

You stare at your desk as your head pounds with another problem.

You’ve stayed so long at this desk you can draw every inch of it from memory. And you’d be a master at adding the little cracks, dents and scratch details. Plus every memory of hoseok’s nagging witty remarks linger in this office area everymoment.

You really want a new office. And you day when you do get one, you’ll make sure hoseok never visits it and contaminates it with his presence.

Urgh

You groan as you pick up the file he’s just given you. This headache’s probably gonna kill you before you get a chance to.

‘’well, well well’’ jungkook rolls his eyes ‘’look who decided to come to work today’’

‘’good morning Isabel, you didn’t have to do all this but i appreciate the warm welcome’’ jungkook spits out sarcastically in a sing-song voice.

Isabel scoffs.

‘’is your mother feeling better now?’’

‘’what are you talking- oh’’ jungkook catches himself, but it’s too late.

‘’oh my gosh i knew it’’ she declares ‘’you’re such a liar’’ she lets out a soft chuckle.

‘’i knew you weren’t asking for a day off cause your mother was sick’’

‘’how could you have known that’’ jungkook says taking off his shirt and Isabel can’t help but ogle.

‘’i just know’’ she folds her arms over her chest, her long straight hair getting caught in her arms.

‘’why didn’t you tell me you needed a day off, you don’t have to lie’’ she stops herself from licking her lip in fear of ruining her red lips.

‘’you know i can do that for you’’

Jungkook grins as he pulls up his work suit pants. It would’ve been uncomfortable if jungkook wasn’t used to Isabel being around while he got dressed. He secretly believes she does it on purpose to be in the dressing room when he’s getting dressed.

‘’well i did cause a friend needed me, i doubt those grounds stand for a day off’’ he finally just says it knowing she won’t do anything about it.

She hums ‘’which friend?’’

‘’does it matter?’’ he throws a white tee over his head.

It doesn’t, but she just wanted to know if her thoughts are right.

‘’YN’’

She only hums, her perfectly tweezed eyebrows rising. He can’t decipher what the meaning of it but it doesn’t matter. She’s heard your name from him but never seen you, he talks so fondly of you she’s just so curious to meet you.

‘’okay then get to work making up for the day you missed. A client’s coming in with his car’’

Jungkook already knows cause said client called him a million times to find out where he was.

‘’so about asking for a day off...’’ jungkook puts on his best charming smile.

‘’it’s not gonna happen jeon’’ she turns to walk away. But not without biting her inner cheek, if she was staring at jungkook she would fold.

‘’what happened to the ‘you know i can do that for you’ ‘’ she blushes.

‘’it’s never gonna happen. Not today at least’’ she whispers the last part.

Jungkook laughs and licks his lips as he watches her walk away. Sometimes it was fun coming to work.

‘’and that’s why this model’s perfect for you and your family’’ you walk around the car to the open door. ‘’you can place up to three car seats in the back’’ you stretch you arm to point and direct your client’s eyes to where you want them to be.

You stare at her blank face and you know she’s not convinced. But that’s your job; to convince and sale.

‘’if you’re worried about clean up, the interior material is one; even liquids. vacuum away from clean and the seats are wipeable’’

‘’actually the carpet, does not stain’’ you add.

‘’oh that’s really nice, cause my kids are messy when it comes to food.’’ She laughs and you laugh as well.

Most of the time you laugh only because you have to. You hear the same things every day and speak to the same type of people everyday. You know every type of person that walks through those glass doors.

‘’i think I’ve heard enough, I’m convinced’’

‘’i’ll take the car’’ those words are like music to your ears and medicine for your headache.

‘’Great, then let me just get the papers ready’’

This was one of the reasons you liked and preferred to work with women, they’re are easy to convince when it comes to buying a car and are great listeners to what you say. Unlike men who just want to argue and question your knowledge on cars. It always makes you laugh when you see them try and show you that they know more than you (not that they do, you’ll always one-up them)

And in all fairness women loved to work with you cause they know they can trust a woman. And men only want to work with you to put you down and ogle at you.

Even hoseok knew this and that’s why he always gives you female clients. You’re shocked he doesn’t give you only males just to piss you off. If you never knew him well you’d think he had a heart.

You’re walking back to your desk when you see hoseok approach you from the corner of you eye.

‘’You don’t need to worry i sold the car’’ you say not stopping in your tracks.

‘’im not worried i knew you would’’

You pause.

‘’is that a compliment Mr Jung’’

He doesn’t respond but that doesn’t stop you from swimming in his rarely spoken compliments.

‘’what do you want? it’s lunch time’’ you go back to your bickering tone.

He stares at his watch.

‘’are you having your lunch from outside of the office’’

‘’yeah, why?’’ you pick up your purse. He knows you always have lunch from outside of the office, so why is he asking.

‘’i have a very important client to give you’’

You really wanna go out and have lunch, cause even though it doesn’t seem like it you still have a headache. But if hoseok said he had an important client for you, then he did.

You honestly need important clients right now.

‘’can it wait for after lunch’’

Hoseok let’s out a bitter chuckle.

‘’this client doesn’t live in Seoul. So he doesn’t have the time to wait’’

He? Ugh.

Who is he for hoseok to be kissing up to him so bad.

‘’if you really want that promotion as bad as you say you do, you’re gonna take him nooow.” He drags out the last word.

He says it so eagerly that now you have to rethink your lunch routine.

Lunchtime is the main time you get in the week to actually see jungkook, since you’re both so busy. It’s like a little routine you both have; helps you spend more time together.

But now you have to reconsider it. jungkook would understand though, since you’ve got a promotion on the line.

‘’yn? Do you want this or not. If not i can-‘’ hoseok presses but a deep hallow voice steps in.

‘’hoseok let her go for lunch, i can wait’’

You both turn and your eyes are met with the most glorious figure of a man you’ve ever seen.

Tall, beefy and muscular. When you stare at hoseok, in question, you can swear he’s ogling too.

Wouldn’t blame him so are you. This man is fine.

‘’Namjoon, you don’t have t-‘’

‘’please, i can move my flight. Let her have lunch’’ your eyes meet as he ends his sentence. You skedaddle your gaze to another part of the room, avoiding his eyes. and your teeth immediately meet your inner upper lip.

You’re not the best at eye contact, it makes you nervous cause it feels like the person can see all the little things you’re keeping secret.

Namjoon smirks as he walks out, ‘’I’ll be waiting when you get back’’

Hoseok doesn’t say or look at you before he’s out too.

‘’fuck inishiwekfuoaovw’’

You furrow your brows at a jungkook stuffing his face.

‘’what the fuck are you saying’’ you chuckle out.

He swallows.

‘’ i said, i’ve been thinking this the whole day’’ you wouldn’t have guessed that’s what he was saying.

‘’ i assume you’re talking about your lunch’’ you take a bite of your own, your eyes on jungkook as he lifts his gaze.

If you finish this meal it would be the first full meal you’ve eaten since yunho.

‘’i mean i’ve been thinking about lunch with you too’’ he stares at you from under his eyelashes with wide eyes.

You can't help but smile.

You give him a once-over and can tell by his tan skin he’s been in the sun.

‘’did you carry your sunscreen?’’

He gasps ‘’shit, i forgot. Is my tan obvious” you give him a yes-no nod.

‘’but it looks good’’ you mumble out.

‘’you like it?’’ he lowers his eyes at you and gives you a cheeky smile.

‘’i mean i don’t hate it.’’ Your eyes run across his skin, jungkook can feel your eyes on his skin.

You release a cough, to reset the air. You like it, you won’t say to not give him a bigger head.

‘’i think i should get going’’ jungkook furrows his brows at you then over at your plate.

‘’you haven’t finished your food though ’’ he warns.

‘’i have someone waiting for me at the office, so-‘’ you dare to explain.

‘’-so they can wait until you finish your food. Plus you still have time to eat’’ he points to the clock in the restaurant. You’ve only been here for fifteen minutes.

‘’kook it’s an important client’’ you whine.

‘’and i understand that, but i know you haven’t been eating’’ jungkook sits back in his chair. You have no argument to give, you both know that he’s right. So, you stay silent.

‘’have you?’’ he questions even though he knows he’s right.

‘’jungkook that’s not the point’’ you roll your eyes.

‘’sit down and eat’’ he demands, ’’please’’ he pleads.

You can’t say no, especially with his pleading doe eyes. So you sit and try to finish your food.

You know that he’s doing this cause he cares about you and wants to make sure you’re doing well. But it makes it just much harder to wallow in your misery when he’s baby-ing you

‘’what’s so important about this client anyways’’ he goes back to stuffing his face, the taste of the food encapsulating his taste buds once more.

You hear jungkook speak over your internal turmoil about having to down this food.

‘’hoseok told me its a chance for me to up my chances on a promotion’’ you say informingly. When you actually put your mind to eating the scent of the food causes your stomach to growl. It's savoury taste makes you internally moan as you take it in. Food actually tastes good when you put your mind to it.

‘’Bunny that’s great” he cheers. “Why don’t you sound exciting though’’

You glare at him, ‘’cause you’re forcing me to eat.’’ You’re glad he made you made cause it taste like heaven.

‘’don’t be a baby.’’ He runs his teeth over he’s lower lip.

‘’im not being a baby’’ you mumble out as you pout and prove his point.

Jungkook doesn’t respond and instead watches you eat. His eyes soften at the sight of your cheeks stuffed with food. He knows there’s only so much he can do to help you get over yunho. But whatever he can do he will do, just to see that smile you have on your right now; many more times. He watches you look out the window, and the sun hits you beautifully. And he can’t help but gawk.

‘’what?’’ you smile at doe eyed jungkook, who can’t seem to move his gaze from you.

He shakes his head. ‘’nothing’’ he turns back to his food, the smile not leaving his face.

You roll your eyes. Jungkook’s smile would’ve widened if he saw that. He loves teasing you.

You both appreciate how your friendship has developed from you two avoiding each other and then finally finding comfort in each other’s presence. Jimin really had a tough time getting you two to talk, you’re behaving like two high schoolers he said in his own words. Yes you were but it was more like two high schoolers who’ve never even looked at each put on a class project. But now you’re eating lunch together because you can’t stop talking. You wouldn’t stop being friends with him for anyone.

‘’i forgot to tell you i found a date for you?’’

Jungkook groans at that. He’d hoped you’d forgotten, but you seem more determined than ever.

He gives you a displeased looked.

‘’don’t give me that’’

“if you want me to go on a date, then you’ll have to come watch me train” he declares proudly.

“in what? Boxing?” your brows draw together. Is he actually trying to get you to watching him box.

“Yeah” he hums out enthusiastically.

“Nope” you deadpan.

“Then I’m not going ”

You narrow your eyes at him and he gives you a mischievous smile.

“I’ll see.”

♡

#fanfic #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungguk #jungkook x y/n #bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jeongguk #jeongguk #jeon jeongkook

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factual-fantasy · 6 months

Text

24 asks!! :0000🌟🎭🌟

I HAVE!!! :DDDD

Kinger and Caine are my favorite characters! I've seen a lot of theories and fanart and I've already started making my own AU and angst and everything but I cant DRAW any of that yet because I'm REALLY BUSY with an OVERDUE PROJECT AAAAA

(In recent development, Asgore is unable to heal Spamton because he is a darkener :((( )

I think it might have been addressed at one point yeah :0 Maybe something was wrong with Seam and Asgore reached out to help. In which Seam was terrified and Jevil jumped in to protect him. Asgore could see the trauma and tension in the both of them so he carefully backed off.

Later he could hear from Seam about their pasts and why they were afraid of him. Asgore would then try to take steps to.. not..? Be scary to them?? <:D

Spade king could have talked in a very gravely and booming voice. So Asgore is sure to always talk softly and clearly. He is careful to not make any sudden movements around Seam and Jevil. If he's reaching for something near Seam/Jevil he will gently announce what he's doing and make sure they understand before he does it.

Asgore with his hands in his lap: "Seam, I want to grab that bag.."

Seam: *turns "huh?"

Asgore, hands still in his lap: "That bag beside you, I'd like to grab it."

Seam: "oh, okay,"

Asgore then gently reaches for the bag, making sure that Seam can see his hand coming.

Little things like that would really ease Seam and Jevils nerves. And its what made Asgore so trustworthy to them. The fact that he cared so much about their comfort and went above and beyond to make sure they felt safe around him.

Not really a parental figure. He sees Seam as his equal in every way. So like.. he sees him as his brother of the same age.?

@beryl-shade

Oh he didn't lock Seam up in a cell. He just put shackles around his wrists and neck :00

The thing about Jevil is that the bigger the group got, the worse his habits became. And the harder it became to break those habits.. Jevil was the one who collected these people, so they are his responsibility. Giving up his food not just for Seam, but for everyone. Staying awake to keep the fire large and roaring to keep the group warm.

The others try to help him.. but they would have a hard time getting Jevil to listen to them. Telling him he needs to eat, sleep or just relax. He probably wouldn't listen because he's a bit stubborn and is probably riddled with anxiety 24/7.

Although when Asgore came around things got a lot easier.

Asgore is very powerful and has proved his trustworthiness multiple times to Seam and Jevil. So although the royal vibe is off putting.. Jevil trusts him to watch the fire at night and protect the group. Seam has been able to reason with Jevil about the food part a little too.

Jevil: "You need this food more than me. You gotta keep your strength up until we can find someone to break these chains!"

Seam: "Jevil, you consume energy to make those mirrors to other worlds. How are you supposed to keep looking for someone to break my chains, if you're collapsed on the ground, too weak to make another mirror?"

Jevil: "......."

Jevil: *takes ONE bite out of sandwich

I was thinking around 10 years or so..? Maybe more? Haven't really decided :0 And he was able to escape by making a mirror and stepping through it. That mirror basically poked a hole in the walls of the AU and he was able to step out of the AU. Effectively stepping out of his cell and breaking free :}

Also thank you!! :DD

@gracebeth3604

I've completely ignored comments like this recently because I don't wanna deal with all the drama that will surly follow. But you were really polite and very thorough with your evidence.. sooo I guess I might as well answer it now,

I am aware that people use they/them for Seam. But -> my version <- of Seam goes by he/him.

I don't reeallly have a Splatoon AU..? And I haven't played Splatoon in a while- although I do still like it and have made some Splatoon ocs!

These drawings are pretty old. I've been meaning to come back and re-draw them haha <XD

Yeah its okay to tag like that. Like "seam and jevil" or "mario and luigi". That's just tagging them as being in the same post, no big deal 👍

Also no, no art of any kind. If you truly wanna show that you appreciate my work then leave comments. Maybe reblog once in a while or send me an ask. The comments don't have to be anything complex. You could leave a "Looks great!" comment on 50 posts of mine in a row and I will see what you're doing and appreciate it endlessly.

@genericcereal-wastaken

(I most likely will lol XD) Also thank you! I'm glad you love it! :DD

@elegysonnet

Honestly I can see Seam wanting nothing wrapped around/touching his wrists for a while.. even though they need it. But he could accept cold rags being dabbed on the wounds to ease the stinging.

As for what he'd eat? Dude- anything XDD Probably a burger to start. He'd just take a big fat bite and cry about how good it tastes 😭

And yeah! Now that he has his full range of movement he has his cat like flexibility back :}}

When it comes to Seam using his magic? Its hard for a while...

He hasn't used it consistently in so long.. he would be rusty, and probably anxious to use it again. It would take a lot of sparing and gentle guidance from Jevil and probably Asgore to get his grove back.

It would also take time for him to physically heal. Having his body's energy constantly drained has really effected his ability to control his magic. He would need a few weeks of good sleep and hearty meals before he could get his groove back. But he'll get there. With the group/Jevils support, he would eventually be back to the way he was. Equally matched with Jevil. :}

@clevermakercupcake

Thank you!! :}}} 🌻🌻

I don't remember that, did he do that?? Kwazii whyyy that's nasty XDDD

@cupcake-kingdom

Seam is frightened and confused but appreciates the message! XD

Joy. There's just joy and relief everywhere.

There has been a constant anxiety over this group- not just Jevil, that Seam would suddenly collapse and die. Finally succumbing to the chains draining properties.

Now that the chains are off? Seam will heal. He will eat and stay full. He will absorb those calories and turn it into energy. And he will keep that energy. When he sleeps he will wake up feeling rested. He will heal, he will live.

For Seam, it was almost too good to be true. It just, it blew his mind. He was free. He was really free. No more pain, no more aches. No more hunger. His freedom truly starts here. The relief he felt can't be described. He cried, hard. But he also laughed, and for the first time in years, he smiled.

And Jevil? He couldn't speak. He just cried and cried and cried.. He couldn't let go of Seam. He couldn't stop looking at his wrists. Exanimating them over and over again. As if he couldn't truly believe it. All the anxiety, all the worry, all the sleepless nights. They were all over. Seam was gonna live, he didn't have to worry anymore. He couldn't let go of Seam, he couldn't stop shaking, he couldn't stop crying. He couldn't stop smiling.

They will likely leave some kind of permanent scar on Seam yes.. but his floofy orange fur hides the scars around his neck. And the scars on his wrists will be somewhat covered up by his fur. So thankfully they wont really be noticeable. <:)

@nunyabusiness459

Heck yeah. After they cry their souls out together they go and crash for like 6 hours or something XDD

(Also funny username, made me laugh! XD)

WAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! And heck yeah!! Feel free to send me your AU stuff when you're done/ready! I'd love to see it! :}}

@ocinstituterep I imagine he's just reeeeally quiet about sneaking out. My Kwazii doesn't sneak out though he knows better XD

Thank you so much! Also Spongebob has angst??? :00000

Things are mostly better!

Little Red got her knees fixed, Escorts broken down a few times but he's currently in working order! Suburban is stiillll a work in progress... undrivable at the moment- :x

Greenie now takes all 4 limbs to start, Brown is out of the garage and U.M is out of the trailer! Pretty good stuff :}}

(If any of that made sense to you I applaud you for your dedication to my Transformer ocs <XDD)

@skywillow28022

She does exist, although I didn't have any real plans for her.. maybe she was just a gal that the bros knew in passing back on Earth.?

@beryl-shade

I feel like none of them would willing visit that old stage.. expect for maybe Foxy. I feel like Foxy would be a very emotional and tender hearted character. I can see him not wanting to "leave them behind" in a way. He would come back now and then and talk to the stage as if they were standing on it and could hear him. The staff think that Foxy's programming just hasn't properly registered that Chica and Freddy are gone. And in a way.. they're right..

Foxy cant let go of their memory. And despite how much it would ache seeing that empty stage, I can see him coming back to it anyway..

This also means that part of the reason why Bonnie and Foxy clash so much now is that Bonnie is trying to snuff out any memories and feelings of the past. Meanwhile Foxy is wallowing in those memories and refuses to let go.

If any of the four of them had to preform on that stage once again? Oh man. That would hurt. It would kill Foxy to stand in the place of his late friends. He would feel guilty, ashamed.. Monty and Roxy also couldn't handle it. They would be crushed. Monty would likely get emotional and angry. Roxy would want to run and hide her face. Maybe the three of them would find a way to fake a malfunction so they could just get off the stage..

But Bonnie? Man. Maybe he's so overwhelmed that he just goes on autopilot and finishes the performance. Only to have a complete mental breakdown in his room later.. being so close to the memory of Chica and Freddy.. its crippling to him.

@skatermusic

Daww, thank you :}}}

#my response #undertale #deltarune #fnaf security breach #my ocs #splatoon ocs #the amazing digital circus

317 notes · View notes

desswright29 · 8 months

Text

Come Find Me

Word Count: 4,3k

Contains: ANGST!, Fluff, Cheating, Mind control, Sexual Content (18+), Heartbreak

A/n: Sorry this took so long. I had a lot going on. Whew! But here we are and I hope you guys enjoy the ANGST!

I've seen this place before

A color blinded senseless sight to see

And when it rains, only rains on me

Memories. These memories where the fuck were they coming from? They swirl around her head like a tornado. Constantly causing her variance. The memories all with Rianna, felt so existent, so tangible. It wasn’t a daydream. They were memories, they were there right in her head. But she didn’t remember making them. It was driving her towards insanity. She was always inside her head trying to figure it out and lately she’d seemed aloof. Unaware of things going on around her. What is wrong with me. Something isnt right.

“Shuri!” Shuri jumped at the sound of her name being yelled suddenly snapping back to reality. Where she sat on her thrown, surrounded by the elders and Dora Milaje.

“Are you here with us your highness or is there something more important than the topic we’re discussing?” Shuri looked around the throne room as everyone stared into her. Okoye, Ayo, and Aneeka with concern etched in their faces.

She cleared her throat, tugging on the jacket of her suit. “I-I apologize. I am not feeling well today. The safety of our country is always a priority for me. The barriers are consistently checked and reinforced. There is no threat to Wakanda’s safety at the moment. Now if you don’t mind I would like to wrap this up. Thank you all for your dedication. This meeting is adjourned.” Shuri stands and everyone follows with a salute. Shuri returns the gesture as she strolls out of the throne room. Okoye, Ayo, and Aneeka close behind.

“Ikumkazi wam? Is everything ok. You’ve been a bit out of sorts lately.” Aneeka spoke up. This had not been an isolated event. Shuri zoning out had become a consistent thing and it was raising concern. “Uh. Yea of course I’m fine. Just a bit tired lately.” Shuri deflected.

“Well maybe you and you’re wife should slow down with all of your congicals. That would probably save the majority of both of your energy.” Okoye added with a sly smile, eyebrow raised high. Shuri can’t help but smile at the mention of your name. She let’s out a sarcastic “Ah ha. Actually, that might be exactly what I need” She smirked. “I should probably go get fed. That’ll boost my energy. I have to get all of my nourishment.” She winked. And Okoye scrunched her face in disgust. “That is disgusting Shuri! Keep your nuptials to yourself!” It was pointless Shuri was already bouncing down the hall happily, in the direction of her wife.

So what can I say but I'm hoping

The hour will still turn to golden

We will see the sun as it's supposed to be

Shining straight through to you and me

You pace outside of the bathroom door wringing your hands together nervously. Tolu sat on the bench infront of your and Shuri’s bed quietly watching you drive yourself into a nervous break down. “Ok Y/n.” Tolu stands and walks over to you grabbing your hand in hers. “You’re making me dizzy. You have to stop. Come on take a deep breath with me.” You stop staring into Tolu’s eyes, taking a deep shakey breath along with her. “One more” You both repeat. “Okay girl! It’s time. I’m right here with you. Do you want me to check it or would you like to do the honors.”

“Can you do it? I don’t think I can. I’m a wreck right now.” Tolu smiles and walks into the bathroom. Your mind races as you sit on the bed. Heart racing and palms sweaty fidgeting with your fingers. Tolu emerged from the bathroom and your eyes immediately draw to the white stick in her hand. Leaning against the frame of the door she gives you an almost unreadable expression until she couldn’t control the twitch in her lips. “Congratulations Umama. You’re having a babyyyy!!” Tears welled in her eyes a broad smile covering her face. Your eyes grew wide. Your hands mindlessly landing on your tummy, a choked gasp releasing itself from your chest. You stand, hurriedly brushing past Tolu heading to the bathroom counter, staring down at the other two test, both reading pregnant as plain as day. Turning back around to your friend tears quickly began to flow down your face. She rushes to you holding you in her arms. “It’s happening y/n! It’s real girl.”

Leading you over to the bed, sitting holding eachother as you cry tears of joy. “Lu, I can’t believe it worked! I-I really have a peice of Shuri growing inside of me! And we’re both women! How could I not be in love with this woman she’s fucking brilliant!” You pull away as both of you fall into laughter. Tolu giving a playful roll of her eyes. “She’s alright I guess.” You giggle knowing neither Tolu nor Shuri would ever give eachother that much credit. “We’re going to be mommies Lu! Oh Bast! What if we’re terrible parents!” Tolu scoffs.

“Ah ah! Stop there and be realistic. There are no two people on the planet more qualified than the two of you to be parents. You both have been through hell and fought for this moment. You’re deserving of this and you’re going to enjoy it! No negativity. This is a happy time.” You sniff and nod in agreement. “I love you, girl. You’re the best friend a girl could have.”

“I love your crazy ass too” You both laugh embracing eachother once again. Pulling away you wipe the stray tears from your face. “Now I just have to figure out a special way to tell her!” You clap happily, excited for this new begining. As if on cue, you both hear the front door of the house open and close and turn to eachother in a panic. “Oh shit! She’s home. She can’t know yet!” You yell in a whisper. Both of you hop from the bed and rush into the bathroom to get the pregnancy tests. Trying to move around eachother getting flustered and whispering in hushed panicked tones “I have to throw them away.”

“No! She’ll see them in the trash!”

“I’ll wrap them up. Duh!” You grab the tissue and began wrapping the test. “Still you can’t put them in the trash! Give them to me I’ll put them in my purse. Hurry up!” Running back into the room you both plop on the bed Tolu snatching her purse off the night stand and stuffing the test in her purse just in time for Shuri to walk in the room, with you and Lu putting on your best normal poses. She walked through the door to see you with Tolu and her face scrunched in faux disgust. She smacked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Ew. I knew I smelled you. I thought Y/n was making oxtail.” She said entering the room, shutting the door behind her. Tolu looked over at her mirroring her expression, unamused.

“Funny. Since those Panther senses pick up my scent so well. Why didn’t they pick up on those pits you musty bit-“ You pop her arm before she could get it out.

“Don’t start that shit. Be nice today.” Shuri turns her lip up at Tolu as she walks over to peck you on the lips and Lu rolls her eyes.

“She started with me first, but Aaaanyway, I was just getting ready to head out.” She stands clutching her purse as though she held the worlds most precious jewels.

“Best news I’ve got all day.” Shuri smirked at her. “Shuri you can kiss my ass and meow at the hole.” Shuri wrapped an arm around her stomach and brought her hand to her mouth pretending she would vomit. “Yeaaaa get that hairball outta there feline. I’m sure it’s building up from all the pussy you eat around here.” Shuri smiles and licks her lips as she nods. “True, True” Tolu’s face distorted into an amused grimace. “Ugh!”

“Now how the hell did I catch a stray in the middle of y’all beef. I stay waxed.” You butt in.

“It gets a lil fuzzy sometimes babe but I like it! Adds a little texture.” Your mouth drops open and your face contorts as all of you burst into laughter. Tolu wraps an arm around Shuri’s torso in a hug and Shuri kisses the top of her head. “I’m headed out weirdos. Love you guys.”

“Love you too.” You both call after her as she heads out.

“The two of you are going to be the death of me.” Shuri chuckles slightly as her arms wrap around your waist. You look up into those beautiful dark eyes and you see sadness lingering in the depths. “Baby what’s wrong?” The concern in your voice apparent as you place a hand on her face. “You’ve seemed a tad off lately is my love overwhelmed?” You began placing soft kisses on the line of her chiseled jaw. “Not entirely. I’m happy sweet girl. The happiest I’ve been in a long time. I just .. something feels off. I haven’t felt completely like myself. I don’t know. Maybe, I’m just a little stressed.”

“What’s going on? What’s got you stressed? Riri isn’t giving you any issues is she because she’s over due being sent home really.” Shuri smirks. “Anything to bring up getting rid of her before time huh love. She’s due home in a couple of days babe. You don’t stress yourself about that. She’s been straight as an arrow these last few weeks. We’re good mfazi. And I don’t need you stressing out my little seeds.” She bent down speaking to your belly. “Isn’t that right.” She placed a kiss to your tummy and stood back to her full height. “I’m not stressing over that bitch. I just don’t want her here anymore. I don’t care how unproblematic she’s being, I know she wants you.”

“Ok sthandwa, that maybe so. But I want you. Only you. So none of that matters.” She tilts your head upwards with her pointer finger. And you melt into her touch.

“You’re right. And we were talking about what was bothering you any way.”

“It doesn’t matter baby, I’m here now.” She kisses your neck. “And I know exactly how you can make me feel much much better.” She gave a bite and suck right underneath your jaw. “Mm. Oh really?” You felt her nod against your neck as she place her hands on your im waist slowly backing you up against a wall. “Mhmm”

“You don’t get enough of me daddy?” You giggle seductively. Pulling back, her eyes lower following every curve of your body. She bends and takes hold of the back of your knees lifting you and pressing you into the wall. “Never” You responded with a hum wrapping your legs around her waist. “You know I love you more than anything right. I promise you I’ll forever give you my all. I’m not perfect but I’ll do my best at it for you. Promise me you won’t ever give up on me my love. That we’ll always be this way no matter what.” Your hands massage the nape of her neck as you bring your foreheads together. “I promise sthandwa.”

I don't understand why you blame me

Just take me as I am, it's the same me

We should be together

So tell me where you go when you know better

“I PrOmiSe SthAnDwA! Oh please! Let’s cut this shit short. Stark activate the atoms send Shuri to the lab.”

Riri demanded annoyed by your and Shuri’s interaction. “Sure thing kiddo”. Turning off her beads She stood from her bed making her way to make her way to the empty lab. It had been closed for the day to give the lab staff a much needed break. And Riri was going to use that to her advantage. The memories weren’t working. Allowing her to remember their rendezvous hadn’t been enough to make her fall in love with Riri without the use of the atoms. She treated those memories like annoying nats floating around her head. And as soon as Riri would deactivate the atoms she went crawling right back to her precious little wife. Obviously the basis of her experiment worked flawlessly. Her time with Shuri with the atoms had been delicious. Sensual and erotic. But she needed Shuri to love her. She couldn’t possibly control her mind forever without causing damage which is the only reason she didn’t keep the atoms activated at all times. Time was limited. Now was the time to tip the scales in her favor..

Shortly after entering the lab Riri felt strong arms circle her waist, a firm body pressing up against her back as a nose tickled her cheek. “Hello my love.” Riri smiled biting her lip and turning around in Shuri’s arms where she belonged. “Baby!” Her arms circled Shuri’s neck as she brought her down into a kiss. “I was missing you and these lips.” Shuri whispered against her mouth. “Never as much as I’ve missed you.” Shuri shook her head. “I beg to differ.”

“Oh really? Why don’t you show me joy much you’ve missed me then Panther.” A smirk rose on Shuri’s face as she lowered herself back onto Riri’s lips kissing her hungrily, while walking her backwards into one of the lab tables. Her hands went under Ri’s shirt carressing the soft skin of her abdomen sending shivers down her spine.

“I love the way you touch me Shuri.” Ri whispers as her eyes closed savoring the feeling. “Not as much as I love touching you.” All of a sudden Ri was being lifted onto the lab table. She slid the jacket of Shuri’s suit from her shoulders revealing her bra. Tugging on the center of the bra she released one of Shuri’s breast instantly attaching herself to her nipple. Shuri threw her head back in ecstasy reaching to remove Riri’s shirt. Riri unattached herself from Shuri for a second to allow her to remove her shirt as she unhooked Shuri’s bra. Shuri began unbuttoning Ri’s pants as she lifted allowing Shuri to remove her panties along with her bottoms as Ri reciprocated. They were both now completely naked as Shuri straddled Riri’s thigh. Riri moved closer to the edge of the table lining her core up to Shuri’s thigh and they both began to move against one another. Shuri’s arms were on either side of Ri keeping them both balanced as she panted in Riri’s ear while they both used eachothers thighs to get off.

“Sss mmm, Ri you feel so good against me.” Shuri moaned her breath tickling Riri’s neck. Riri’s hips bucked harder against Shuri her arms wrapped tightly around Shuri’s neck as she cried out. “Yes! T-Tell me h-how gooood I make you feel. Oh God!”

“S-so good! S-so f-fucking good!” Riri’s eyes fluttered open briefly, before snapping back open to see a blurry figure standing at the entrance of the lab. With a few blinks clearing the tears from her eyes, the figure took form into you. Ooohh this was deliciously perfect!! Riri almost came from sheer excitement! She took the moment to unwrap her right arm from around Shuri’s neck placing her hand at Shuri’s entrance. She slowly added her ring and pointer fingers inside of her while pressing her palm into her sensitive bud as Shuri rocked harder onto her. “Oh fuck Ri! Just like that! I’m gonna cum!”

“Yea baby cum for me. I’m gonna cum with you! Say my name when you cum for me. Let everybody know who’s pussy this is.” Ri panted into Shuri’s neck as both of their bodies began to shake both on the edge of their release. Knowing that you were watching as Shuri’s body quaked against hers, and that soon she would have Shuri to herself made Riri’s orgasam come quick and heavy along with Shuri. Her Juices pouring over her hand onto her thigh. Ri opened her eyes looking over Shuri’s shoulder as they both caught their breath, fully prepared for conflict. But you were gone. What the fuck! Had she imagined it all.

I love holding you, touching you

'Cause you help me deal with the pains

So how could you turn into

The demons you

Once said that you'd keep away?

“AAAARRRGGH!!” You scream as you remove the large wedding photo from the entrance of your home smashing it into the ground. You walked through your home destroying any semblance of your relationship with Shuri. Tears streaming down your face. Releasing agonizing screams. You’d trusted her. Fell for her lies. She was one hell of an actress. Making you believe she really loved you and the whole time she was fucking that BITCH! So that’s why she wouldn’t send her home! You start to feel faint from the stress. Heading to the nearest wall you balance yourself. Remembering your baby you wrap an arm around your tummy placing your back against the wall sliding to the floor.

“Why Shuri? Whyyyyyy?” The last why escaping your throat in a shaky whimper. You look around at the damage you’d caused. It reinforced the pain you felt inside. And for the first time ever you no longer wanted to be there.

“You hungry baby. We should probably get some food after that workout.” Shuri looked at Riri in all her naked glory still sitting on the lab table watching Shuri get dressed. She contemplated deactivating the atoms and sending Shuri back to you to be sure she wasn’t loosing her mind. “You ok Ri baby?” Concern etched itself in Shuri’s face as she walked over to her placing her hands on her naked thighs. Riri placed both hands on Shuri’s cheeks looking her in the eyes.

“I’m so in love with you Shuri and I’ll do anything for you. You’re the best thing to ever happened to me.” Her eyes began to mist and Shuri captured her lips.

“Heyyy, Hey beautiful don’t cry. I hate to see you cry.” Her voice soft and comforting. Riri smiled. “They’re happy tears. Because I have a feeling that after today no one will be in our way.”

“No one could ever be in our way. Because I love you.” Ri planted another kiss on Shuri before standing and gathering her clothes to put them back on. Once her clothes were back on she walked over and embraced Shuri.

“Soon that will be true.” She let go and with the press of a button Shuri was back to normal.

“Ms. Williams, why are you still in the lab. Go explore. Or get some rest. Relax for once. I’m going to spend some time with my wife.”

“I was just running in to grab something. I’m headed out now. I hope you and y/n have a wonderful day. I’ll see you later.” With that she walks out of the lab.

I'm in my feelings, I'm tired, I'm bleeding

I'm nothing, I'm choking without you

I become weak from the mountains

I'll scream 'til the morning wraps me back around you

Where the colors of your mind will turn around

And so will you too

Oh, no, no, no, don't let it go

Shuri walked out out of the lab. Heading home with a bounce in her step ready to curl up and relax with her wife. Once she reached the Queens wing her heart dropped as she noticed the commotion. Dora and staff scurried in and out of her home. Her face scrunched in confusion as she watched them remove things from inside. Your things.

“You can just take that one down to my car.” Tolu walked out giving directions, when she spoted Shuri looking lost.

“What’s going on Lu? Why are y/n’s things being taken.” Tolu walks up with one arm held out as Shuri proceeds forward “Shuri. I think it’s best you stay out here until she leaves.” Tolu placed a had in the center of Shuri’s chest attempting to push her backwards.

“Leave? Leave where? Wh-what game are you two playing? Stop.” Shuri’s heart began to race.

“This is not a game Shuri. She’s not talking. I don’t know what you did. But you fucked up.” Shuri looked past Tolu towards the entrance to her home. Quickly she side stepped Tolu and made her way towards the door.

“STOP! EVERYONE STOP! Put her things down now!” Everyone stopped looking at eachother confused on what to do. Stepping inside the first thing Shuri noticed was the wedding photo in peices on the floor. Her breathing became short and choppy as she looked around her living room. What the fuck was going on? Where were you? She hastily ran into the bedroom just in time to see you walking out of your closet with the last of your bags.

“Baby what’s going on? What’s happening?” You only stare at her for a second face blank, grief hidden behind your eyes. Diverting your eyes you continue on your way. She steps infront of you grabbing at your bags. “NO! No y/n. Talk to me. W-What did I do?” She stuttered as her eyes began to water. Your eyes settled every where but on her as your lip began to tremble. Shuri’s movements followed the direction of your eyes as she tried getting you to look at her. “Y/n please.” She whispered. Stepping away you head towards the bathroom to grab a few things you’d missed. Shuri fell to her knees crawling after you. “B-baby, talk to me. I can fix it. Whatever it is I can fix it.” She sat on her knees in the doorway of the bathroom. Watching you pack up things. She was confused. Her mind reeling searching for the answer. The memories they were there but there’s no way she did that. No way she would ever betray your trust in that way again.

It’s wasn’t me. It’s wasn’t me baby. Stay help me!

Shuri could hear herself screaming almost as though she was separate from herself. She shook her head. She started to get frantic as you stepped right past her walking out of the bathroom. She crawled after you again the tears flowing as she tried to catch her breath. Everywhere you went she was right behind you begging for understanding.

“Please baby please just talk to me. I don’t understand! I’m begging you p-please d-don’t leave me! Everything was just fine! What could I have done!” She hiccuped through her tears. Finally you finished packing and headed towards your bags. Shuri got there before you, knocking over the bags and trying to get them open to take out your belongings. “Stop Shuri.” She starts to open the bag and you grab the handle pulling at the bag. Shuri held tight making the bag rip open clothes flying everywhere as you stumbled backwards. “Fuck Shuri Stop it!! I’m leaving with or without this shit!” You try walking out but Shuri once again was on your trail. She crawled infront of you, wrapping her arms around your lower torso as she buried her face in your stomach.

I’m lost sthandwa. Please don’t leave me here.

“What did I do baby?! What did I do? Please I-I can’t lose you. I’ll fix it umfazi wam. I’ll fix it. I need you! Don’t do this!” Your body trembled with sobs that you held inside as the dame broke. You hit a button on your beads.

“Okoye, I need your assistance in leaving. She’s not letting me go.” You choked out. Shuri’s arms tightened around you. “Y/n what is going on?” In seconds Okoye was at the door. “Shuri. I think it’s best you let her go. Just come with me ok.” She walked over squatting next to her.

“Just talk to me pleaaasssee.” Her jaw trembled as she sobbed into your stomach your shirt soaked in tears. She began to wheeze from lack of air. Her breaths shakey. Okoye and Aneka grabbed hold of Shuri’s arms trying to release you from her grip. “You have to let her go. You’re hurting her Shuri.” Her grip loosened instantly. “I don’t want to hurt you baby. Just-Just let me fix it.” Okoye lifted Shuri to her feet. “Come on Shuri. Give her time.”

“No no no! Just tell me what to do! I’ll do it!” Shuri was inconsolable as they carried her out of the house. “Let me go! I just want to know what I did! I just need to know how to fix it.” She began to sound as though she was choking sobs and breaths getting stuck inside her chest. Okoye pressed Shuri against the wall right outside of the door of her home. Grabbing her jaw and squeezing to open her airways she coached Shuri through her cries. “Breathe Shuri! You have to breathe!” Shuri let out a cough an agonizing cry not far behind. Okoye wrapped her in a hug gently placing her head onto her shoulder. Her body became weak with sobs as Okoye held her weight. Tolu walked over placing a comforting hand onto Shuri’s arm. Aneeka standing guard infront of them. “What did I do?” she continued to repeat.

Finally you were able to walk out. You look in Shuri’s direction. Had you not witnessed what you did in that lab. The sight would’ve torn you to pieces. Her pressed into a wall to keep her stable with Okoye cradling her head like a baby’s. But all you could feel was hatred. Anger. Removing your Kimoyo beads and rings you drop them to the floor with a clang and walked away. Shuri released a grunt that sounded as though she’d been punched in the gut at the sound.

You were gone and she didn’t know why.

Please come find me.

Up on the mountain

Searched through the valley

You hear me calling

Won't you come find me?

Please don't forsake me

All of a sudden

My heart is breaking

I feel it coming

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liknws · 9 months

Text

[ 001 ] Brand Spankin' New.

⎯⎯ PAIRING: lee minho x reader/oc ⎯⎯ TAGS: enemies with serious tension, childhood friends to enemies, revenge eras, college au, angst, bad humor bc i'm not as funny as i think i am, misunderstandings, unrequited feelings ⎯⎯ RATING: 18+, mature ⎯⎯ WARNINGS: drug use (weed), excessive cursing, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of sex and sexual themes (non explicit) ⎯⎯ WORD COUNT: 4k (4.972)

⎯⎯ SUMMARY: karma (kar·ma) defined as "(in hinduism and buddhism) the sum of a person's actions in this and previous states of existence, viewed as deciding their fate in future existences". you've always been a big believer in karma and the universe, knowing that eventually all energy is returned. so when your life is ruined by someone you used to call your best friend, you wonder why karma is taking it's sweet time in retaliating against him. what hurts more is your university won't punish something based on hearsay and so it's up to you to find the proof that lee minho is an evil mastermind and get his ass removed from school for good.

[ masterlist ]

“Did you guys see her newest tweet?” There’s a voice off to the right but you’re not paying much attention. The smoke curls around you in a comforting way that has you leaning back on the beanbag and letting out a content groan. You know exactly what they’re talking about, you’re the one who posted the tweet after all. Not that they know that, no one knows that. Not even your best friends, the people that you’ve shared every embarrassing detail of your life with.

“How do you know the account is a woman?” One of those aforementioned best friends speaking up. Mae, the calm to your storm, the one you find yourself relying on more and more these last few weeks. She never left your side, even supported your idea to take that much needed leave of absence from school after he ruined your life.

But the new year is here, the fall semester officially starts in one week and it’s the first day of rush. The weather is cooling off from the blistering summer, the leaves are changing, and you decided to take their lead and change with them. No more wallowing, no more hiding in your apartment while everyone else has a life without you. Your break is done, you kept up your end of the deal with the dean to take your finals when it came time. You passed, thankfully, and that meant you could start your third year of university with a clean slate.

The discussion draws you back in, hearing the argument about who the mysterious twitter account holder could be. The voice, belonging to the boy Mae had invited, continues. “The way they hate him, it has to be an ex.” You want to snort but instead you just shift in the beanbag, wondering if you laid here long enough if it would just swallow you slowly like quicksand. “You had to admit, he’s dated some questionable people in the past. I wouldn’t put it past a few of them to do this.”

You remain silent, best to not say anything in case you come off a little too smug or a little too prideful of that last tweet. Really you’re not the one coming up with most of the tweets, people are sending so many messages to the anonymous twitter account that you’re having a hard time working through them all. Some are good ones, things you schedule to post through the day. Some messages, you can attest, are from some of his more unstable exes. Those you just delete when you get them, deciding not to entertain the possible storm that could create.

“Who’s dated questionable people?” A new voice, one familiar that raises the imaginary hackles on your back. Really if you were a cat you’d be puffed up and hissing at the newcomer, claws swiping at him to leave.

“Your best friend.” The words taste like venom dripping from your tongue as you open your eyes, settling them on Jisung with a sneer. He at least has the decency to shrink away from your glare. He looks startled, as if he wasn’t expecting you to be there at all. Maybe he’s terrified because of the vitriolic tone you used in addressing him. You don’t care, you don’t want him in your safe circle, sucking up the smoke that’s keeping you calm.

“You’re- I-” He stammers, rubbing the back of his neck while looking away from you. “I didn’t know you were going- that you’re here.” So he didn’t expect you to return after his mentioned best friend had broken you so deeply, left you with scars that lingered and barely healed. Some days they were fresh wounds, some days they were scabs that you couldn’t stop picking at. Today it’s a bright pink scar, tender and the slightest brush makes you wince in pain.

“Look like you’ve seen a ghost, Han Jisung.” You level him with your gaze again, watching with a satisfied smirk as he shrinks further away from you. You say his name like a curse, as if it’s the most horrific sounds your lips have shaped.

“Stop.” The singular word draws your look from Jisung to your best friend, catching her eyes and you calm down a little. She presses a hand to your thigh, fingers gripping into your thigh in warning. “Hi, Jisung. Are the other’s here?” She glances around, looking past him in search of those other six familiar faces. You wonder the same thing but she’s always been the softer of you two, the quiet breeze compared to your tempest winds.

“Yeah, yeah. They’re, um, around.” He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. The others in the circle, the few people you were just talking to and passing the blunt around with have gone silent as they watched the exchange. They all know why you glare at the chipmunk cheeked boy, why you spit venom at him every time you open your mouth. It’s the worst kept secret on campus, how Lee Minho had all but sold out your body as a prank. You don’t like thinking about it but it’s hard not to be reminded when strangers stare at you in pity, or you’re reminded when his friends are around.

“Tell them I say hi,” you say to him, shifting to sit up a little in the beanbag. He takes a step back like he expects you to pounce on him, teeth bared and claws extended. Instead you just smile at him, tight lipped before reaching for the joint that’s passed your way. You turn attention back to your circle of people, clear that your words were meant as dismal. You almost feel bad for the dejected look in Jisung’s face as he walks away.

“Hey.” Mae’s grip on your thigh tightens just slightly, a gesture to grab your attention. She’s looking at you with too inquisitive eyes. “Do you want to go home?” Truthfully, yes, you do; leaving now means that he wins again and you refuse to give that satisfaction. No doubt Jisung has already run back to his group to tell them he saw you. Your suspicions are confirmed when two familiar faces poke around the corner. It reminds you of a cartoon, just the sight of two heads extended past the wall, one on top of the other.

When they spot you, the shorter of the two bolts out from behind the cover of the wall and all but runs to you. Your name is slurred a bit in greeting, his lanky arms wrapping around you before you can protest. You have just enough forethought to pass the joint to Mae before he’s on you.The awkwardness of the beanbag you’ve chosen for the night means he either can crouch to greet you but it wouldn’t be Felix if he did things the normal way. Instead he lays on top of you, face buried into your neck as he hugs you tightly. He might be Minho’s friend but he’s been your sunshine since you met last year.

So you allow his crushing hug. “Nice to see you too, Lix.” You’d hug him back if you could but he’s got your arms in the vice grip he’s calling a hug and they’re trapped at your sides. You resign to your fate, even letting out a soft laugh as he clings to you. You catch a little of what he’s mumbling into your neck, though you do catch how happy he is to see you and that he missed you while you were gone.

The second of the two walks over with his hands shoved into his pockets. You can tell by the way he’s holding back a smile he’s just as happy to see you but his affection is far less physical than Felix. You catch his eyes, giving the best wave you can while still trapped under your sunshine “Hyunjin, hey.” As much as you had wanted to hate them for their association with Minho, it was impossible and you were quick to forgive them for their unfortunate choice in friends. They at least respected you enough not to mention him around you and effectively let you carve out a small part of the dance department that wasn’t tainted by him.

“Ji said he saw you so Felix had to come find you.” Hyunjin offers as a greeting and explanation, reaching down to grab his best friend by the collar of his leather jacket and hoist him off you. “Are you coming back?” He’s never been one to beat around the bush with you, something you respect. “We’ve missed you around the department.”

You feel a warmth in your chest that’s been gone since you left last year. While the leave of absence had given you time to heal, it had also left an emptiness in you that you know was because you were missing such a huge piece of yourself. Dance had always been your safe place, always been your home whenever you needed it. The idea of leaving your apartment had put such a crippling fear into you that you thought you would never be able to return. It had taken months of hard work but you felt okay enough to return, to fall back into the warmth of a dance studio again.

“Mhm,” you offer as confirmation, nodding as well. Their smiles are infectious, eyes crinkling and lifting a dark cloud you hadn’t realized was lingering. In the most dignified way that you could, you stood from the beanbag. “I’ll see you guys later, I need some air.” You looked to Mae who rose with you but gestured at her to stay, you really only intended to slip out the front door for a quick breath of fresh air before coming back.

You part from the circle, patting both Hyunjin and Felix on the arm as you pass, before walking out the front door. It’s a lot more quiet outside on the front lawn. The party wasn’t a rager by any means, more of a too large gathering with slightly loud music and drinks to share. Tame in comparison to some parties you knew would be going on across campus. You had purposely avoided Greek Row, knowing those parties would be exactly that. You hadn’t counted that the people you were also looking to avoid wouldn’t be throwing their own party on the Row.

A handful of people are mingling outside, not one person paying attention to you as you take a seat on the steps. The concrete is chilly underneath you, coupled with the cooler night air and it sends a shiver through your body. The calm out here has done exactly what you wanted, cooled down your temper and brought your beating anxiety to a manageable level. Seeing Jisung had done more than you wanted to openly admit to yourself, knowing that behind the producer lurks the reason for your anxiety. You needed to flee before you caught eyes with the rest of the group.

You’re unsure how long you’ve been sitting out here, you’re only vaguely aware of people coming and going from their own breaks of the party. The cold metal of the railing pressed into your forehead is comfortable, eyes closing a bit as you relax into the iron banister. The music from the house raises in volume and then quiets again, your assumption being that when someone opens the door and closes it again. You assume you haven’t been out here long because Mae has not come to find you but you wonder if that’s wrong too as a jacket settles over your shoulders.

The smell is familiar and warm, woodsy and deep and full of memories that you can’t seem to bring to the surface no matter how hard you try. You know the smell, you can’t figure out why you do, but it brings a sort of comfort nonetheless that has you pulling the jacket tighter around your shoulders and burying your nose into the collar. The music is loud and then muffled once again and you’re left alone outside with your new jacket and your fuzzy thoughts.

Only when your mouth feels a little too dry and your ass has gone numb from sitting on the cold steps, you finally wander back into the party. Mae’s moved from the spot you left her in and you’ve got enough sense to text her to check on her. A quick exchange, making sure she’s okay. Confirmation from your roommate tells you that she’s alright and you don’t need to wait for her if you want to go home. A simple thumbs up emoji on the message and a thanks for the jacket are sent before closing your phone. You don’t see her confused reply, asking what jacket since she didn’t give you anything.

A red cup pulled from the stack and run under the tap for a drink of water is your destination. The slightly earthy taste from the water is a comfort, reminding you of warm weather back home and spending sweltering days in ponds and lakes to cool off.

Your arms slide through the sleeves of the jacket, settling into the warmth of its soft fabric. The sleeves extend just a little past your fingers, you realize. Mae must have grabbed it from her date, you think, raising the cuff to your nose to practically nuzzle into the hem. It’s a soft jacket and you don’t want to give it back and you wonder if you can convince her to let you keep it as a roommate tax for letting her invite a date to what was meant to be a girl’s night out. Not that you can really blame her, you guess. You’ve spent nearly every waking minute together and most nights cuddled in her bed instead of your own. The nights are the worst, that’s when the anxiety and the fears settle in like they’re meant to call your chest home.

Without your roommate to wait on, you don’t see the point in staying at the party much longer. The place is still as lively as it was before but your social battery is nearing zero quickly and the call of your bed is strong. You won’t admit that the sight of that group has ruined your night, the good mood you were clinging to so desperately has gone with it. Your phone is back in your hand, a quick text to the house chat to let them know you’re headed home and don’t worry about being quiet when they all arrive at their own times.

Lucy is the first to reply, sending a simple blue heart emoji. It makes you smile and you’re shoving your phone back into your pocket while using your other hand to pat down for the key to your apartment.

“Giving yourself a feel because no one else will?”

The voice makes your blood boil immediately, smiling slipping from your face as you turn to look at Minho. He leans against the island counter in the middle of the kitchen. Silently cursing your luck, you just roll your eyes and go to walk away but a tug on the hood of your jacket halts your steps. An extremely undignified sound escapes at the yank of the hood and you’re flailing backwards for a second until a hand presses to the middle of your back to halt your fall.

“Falling for me?” He grins at you when you turn to face him.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you snap at him while shoving his hand off you roughly. You should have guessed Minho would show up once Jisung had spotted you, you should have made your escape then and never come back into the house. Now you’re living with the consequence of your decision to stay instead of just running then, all because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that even the idea of him sends you in the opposite direction.

His hands come up and make a gesture intended to placate the anger thrown his way. “Sorry.” Somehow you doubt his apology given that it’s coupled with that stupid, ugly smirk of his. “Heard you were back.” There’s a slightly awkward pause when you choose not to reply, arms crossing over your chest. A facial expression meant to tell him to go on or shut up settles over your face. “Can’t wait to see your introduction performance this year. Break a leg.” You choose to believe he’s mocking you, in no way do you trust his words to be sincere at all. It’s Lee Minho, he doesn’t know how to be sincere.

Eyes narrow as your stare levels on him, mouth opening to say something nasty in retort. The words die in your throat when a gentle hand clamps over your lips and pulls you backwards by your wrist. You watch as Minho is swallowed by the crowd as you’re dragged out of the kitchen and back into the cool air. Outside smells fresh and you wonder if there might be a storm tonight. Part of you hopes there might be, as a way to wash away everything tonight.

“Go home.” The words are barked at you. Oh right, someone dragged you here. Yanking your arm from their grip, rounding to look at them with the insult that was primed for Minho now ready to be flung toward your captor. His glare makes you stop, shrinking back just a little before remembering you’re not afraid of Christopher Bahng.

“I don’t remember you being in charge of my life.” Shoulders square, taking a step to stand toe to toe with him. Damn, did he get wider? You don’t remember him being quite so filled out. “And the bastard approached me first.” You note how his jaw twitches as he clenches his teeth when you argue with him, when you step closer and won’t back down from him. There’s that stupid voice in the back of your head to swing, that you could take him easily.

“Be the bigger person and go home, Cherry.” His voice is much softer but the look on his face doesn’t change. Your lips purse however at the nickname, sucking on your teeth in annoyance of his casual use of that name. He was the one who came up with it after all, him and Minho had adopted that name for you when you were much younger. A way to tease you for always wanting cherry flavored everything- popsicles to hard candies and everything in between. The name tugs at your heart just a little. Traitorous organ.

“Why do I have to be the bigger person?” Your refusal to back down doesn’t seem to bring a surprise, in fact he seems to have expected it. Once again he grabs you with that large hand, wrapping around your bicep and dragging you away from the house into the street.

“Still live at the same place? I’ll walk you home.”

“I don’t need a fucking escort, Chris.” You shrug his hold off. “Touch me again and I’ll break your hand. Make it hard to perform your live introduction piece with a shattered hand I bet.” There was once a time these threats would never have passed your lips in his direction, never at him. Only ever in his defense, only ever to protect those you cared about. Once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away. Some bullshit like that.

“I’ll make sure Mae gets home safe but you need to go, okay? Just- please.” He almost seems.. desperate? You two are standing in the dark of the street, the street lights too spaced out to illuminate your faces. You can only assume his tone, unable to see the look on his face. If it was light you would see that his eyes are soft, pleading with you to just once listen to him. To take his warning and to go home.

“Awa’ an bile yer heid,” you mutter as you turn away from him and start walking to the bus in order to get back to your apartment. His concern leaves you lost for words, lost for a better retort so you just drop the first dismal you can come up with.

“Speak fucking English!” Chan shouts after you, laughing a bit. You don’t risk looking back, knowing you’d find him watching you with that smile. That smile and those stupidly adorable dimples of his. You raise a hand, sending him a single finger salute without looking back at him. Now that you’re truly alone out here, it feels colder as you walk to the bus stop. Pulling the jacket tighter around your middle, pulling the sleeves down further to hide your fingers from the chilled wind.

Just as you near the bus stop the first raindrop of the autumn season hits your cheek.

・❥・

The morning is crisp after last night’s storm but the clouds have parted for the time. By the time you’re holding your second cup of coffee that morning, your other roommates have joined you out on the back patio in varying degrees of wakefulness. Lucy grumbles something and pulls the mug from your hands, much to your protest, and curls back in her lawnchair with your stolen mug.

“You came home early last night.” She breaks the settled silence, looking over at you.

“Aye, I was wanting to go to bed so my best friend could steal my coffee in the morning.” You’re attempting to reach for your coffee but she bounds out of the chair far faster than someone half awake should be able to. “Chris basically kicked me out.”

“Wait, kicked you out? I thought you weren’t going to Greek parties?” Elsie turns from where she was smoking and smushes the half smoked cigarette under her boot. “You know, to avoid him and his satanic best friend.”

“We didn’t go to the Row.” Mae comes to defense quickly, poking her head up from your lap, eyes opening for the first time since settling in on top of you. “They were there, not our fault. Jisung saw us first and then ran away to spread the news as quickly as he could.”

“That tiny chipmunk bastard can’t keep a single thing to himself, can he?” Elsie rolls her eyes, dropping into Lucy’s now abandoned chair. “Has to play Minho’s ever loyal bitch- ow.” Lucy’s fist remains on top of Elsie’s head where she’d knocked her knuckles into her sister’s head in warning. “Sorry. Loyal pet- fucking ow.” Elsie reaches up to swat at the other’s hand.

“Basically Minho was being Minho, trying to start something and Chris came to the rescue as always. He dragged me out of the house and told me to go home. Basically ordered me, the fucking bastard.”

“I love when you get angry and your accent is so thick I can barely understand you. Really love the mental workout this morning.” Mae loves to tease the three of you for your accents, according to her they make you almost unable to be understood when speaking English around the house. She often jokes that learning to speak Scots is now her third language.

“Lap privileges revoked.” You shift so her head is no longer in your lap, using the opportunity to stand as well. “I need to head to the studio anyway, finish working on this routine for the introductory performance next week.”

“Lu already packed you lunch. It’s in the fridge and your favorite water bottle is in the freezer to take with you too.” Elsie is quick to inform you with a grin. Lucy beams from where she’s sitting, eyes still closed as she drinks (your) her coffee.

“I’ll come with I need to finish mine,” Mae says between struggling yawns before heading to your shared room to get ready. When you tell her you’ll meet her outside she sends you a thumbs up over her head in acknowledgement.

・❥・

“So whose jacket did you take home last night? I’ve never seen that one.” That same jacket that is thrown over one of the chairs in the corner with your bag. Your head lifts to follow her accusatory finger before dropping back down, the dull thud of your head hitting hardwood sounding a lot louder in the empty studio space than reality.

“I thought you gave it to me last night. When I went out to get air.”

“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’ on the word. “Did you just steal a jacket?”

“Yah! I don’t just steal things. It was given to me, thank you very much.”

A contemplative hum through closed lips but she doesn’t say anything more. You can almost see the cogs turning in her mind and you want to ask what she’s thinking but the subject is changed quickly.

“How are you feeling about the dance?” She watches you in the ceiling to floor mirrors before turning to actually face you. Your head rolls to the side, looking at her now instead of staring up at the ceiling.

“Nervous. Director Yun gave me some really great advice and feedback after looking at my taped final. I don’t know, I’m really outside of my comfort zone here- but that’s the whole point right? I’m not here to perfect what I already know, I want to learn where I’m weak. How else can I be a big time choreographer if all I can do is a pirouette and a chassé.”

“You’re not doing ballet this year?” A new voice chimes into the conversation and you swear your eyes might just roll hard enough to fall out of your head. It would be far more preferable than this conversation. “So the old dog does know more than one trick.”

“We’re the same fucking age, Minho.” You're propped up on your elbows now, eyes narrowed as he stands in the doorway. He’s not alone of course, you note. He’s never alone. You wonder if he’s still holding the fear of being alone, that at the end of everything he’ll just be as lonely as he was before.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“And I’m not going to.” Moving to sit up, you reach for the discarded canvas pirouette slips. “Leave so I can practice.”

“No.” You don’t even need to look at him to know that stupid smirk is there.

“No? The fuck do you mean no?” He ignores your question and walks in, Chan following behind. You watch the both of them with hands on hips before glancing back at Mae. The confusion and fury is written all over your face but the two newcomers are either choosing to ignore it or just don’t see it. You’d bet your life savings that it’s the former.

“You’re not the only person needing to practice for the introduction performance.” As if that is meant to explain why he’s trying to kick you out of the room you’ve been using. His dance bag drops on top of yours. “I’ll help you and then you can leave so I can use the room.”

“I don’t need your help.” You hate how it comes out more like a question. Stomping over, you grab his bag and shove it back at him. “The fuck do you have in there? Bricks? The fuck it’s so heavy for.” You attempt to shove him and his bag out the door but the canvas on your feet means you just end up sliding a little. Real dignified.

“You said you weren’t doing ballet this year for your dance. Seriously, let me help.” Wow, he almost sounds genuine. Which only makes you far more suspicious. Eyes narrow as he watches you, standing in silence that’s too heavy and too tense. The other two in the room don’t say anything, afraid of leaving with bite marks should they get between the two fighting cats.

“Fine,” you snap, dropping his bag and watching with pride as he fumbles it a little as he wasn’t really holding it. You toss a look to Mae that says more than you could voice right now. Surprisingly she’s already grabbed a couple chairs off the stack, presumably with Chan’s help, and sitting shoulder to shoulder with him. A cheerful thumbs up from her settles the butterflies you didn’t notice had taken up residence in your gut.

Minho is at your side in a beat, his stuff placed back on top of yours. A very are-you-for-real? look in his direction that he just gives you a smile, bunny teeth and all. Mae’s been in charge of the music and you give her a look through the mirror to start it again. On the count you step out into your first move and get lost again in the feeling of your body moving to the music. All you see is yourself in the mirror, critical of every single twitch of muscle and wrinkle of skin. You catch Minho’s eyes in the mirror and you can’t look away.

The intensity in his eyes is captivating, watching every small step and maneuver you put your body through. You’ve seen that look on his face before, years ago, when he would watch you practice your ballet routines or when he was helping with taekwondo. It’s somehow comforting to see him tracking your hands, your feet, watching how you throw your body through the air as if you’re made of a feather instead of a human body.

You can’t take your eyes off him watching you. His eyes meet yours in the mirror. All you can see is him. All he can pay attention to is you.

What you two don’t see is Chan and Mae shaking hands over a friendly bet and sharing knowing smiles.

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#minho x y/n #minho x reader #lee minho x reader #minho x you #lee minho x y/n #lee minho x you #lee know angst #lee know x y/n #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee know x reader #lee know x oc #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #* karma.

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obsessedtomone · 3 months

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Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 11 - History Lesson▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤You couldn’t help but notice the silence between his replies getting longer and longer, with each time you reached out for him.

“Yeah,” he finally replies with a rough childish voice, offering you a tired but reassuring smile as he willed his drowsiness away. He was barely able to keep his eyes open anymore, getting harder and harder to stay awake for more than mere moments.

And he was becoming so, so cold.◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Past Child Abuse, Bullying, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five • Six • Seven • Eight • Nine • Ten(ko) • Eleven • Twelve Updates every Monday!

Chapter 11 - History Lesson

It’s cold, and dark.

Why is it so cold?

You stand up on shaky legs.

“***, are you awake yet?” your voice is small and unsure, pointed at your older brother, who sat beside you.

There was a pause.

You couldn’t help but notice the silence between his replies getting longer and longer, with each time you reached out for him.

And he was becoming so, so cold.

“‘m hungry.” you state plainly with a furrowed brow, looking down at your cold bare feet that were turning into the colors of your fingerpainted drawings, then back to your brother.

You weren’t old enough to be able to tell the passage of time very well, but it felt like an eternity had passed since you’ve last had something to munch on.

“Did you take a look in the fridge? Checked the drawers too?” his frail voice cracks. Your brows pinch down even further and he can tell you’re seconds away from blowing up at his question.

“I’m not an idiot! ‘Course I did!” You stomp your foot against the old, creaky floorboard.

He chuckles. “Can you check again? For me?” your brother asks, his little body shivering against the cold rusty metal. He felt like he was losing his strength again, together with his consciousness.

This probably marked the third time today. A bone-deep chill was settling in his weak body.

It worried him because he felt it coming. And that meant you’d be left all alone. He couldn’t bear to leave you alone.

He prayed and prayed for Mother to come back home. To come back before the forever sleep can take you away too.

“What’s wrong?” You unfortunately notice his slight shift in demeanor, his faltering smile and your eyes immediately tear up, now kneeling before your brother.

Once again, for probably the millionth time, you try your best to pull against the metal chains, a grunt escaping you.

They rattled and they rattled, but it was no use. You were too weak. You were just a child.

Several tools—random things you found around the house—were scattered on the floor, uselessly occupying the space around you after you had tried—and ultimately failed to cut and break the cruel metal chains. Scissors, knives, anything sharp or heavy, but as your brother predicted every time, it would be to no avail.

You were just a child.

“Stop it,” he warns you again, “You’ll waste all of your energy. Don’t be stupid, you have to save it up until Mother comes back.”

Your brother was aware he was quickly using his own, but he had to calm you down quickly, before you had another meltdown. He didn’t want to let you go down with him.

But it was already too late, he smiled inwardly. You already set off.

“I hate this, I hate this, I HATE THIS!” You were now screaming and rattling the chains further, pulling at them with all your might, wishing they would disintegrate from your touch or that somehow they’d magically disappear like you’ve seen things do in magic shows.

When Mother allowed you to watch TV.

You used your foot against the radiator for leverage, your tears welling up again, threatening to spill at your pathetic effort.

The chain bit into his skin and he winced.

You didn’t want to hurt him, so you cease your violent tantrum immediately, your small figure crumpling to the ground and your little hands helplessly clutching at your brother’s shirt.

It was no use, he could barely even feel his arms and legs anymore. His hands were cold and blue. You wouldn’t be able to save him and there was no way he’d be lucky enough for medical intervention. Your Mother wouldn’t think of it in time, in the state she’ll arrive home, and you were too young to know what that even meant.

“Hey, hey. Shh. It’s okay. Mother will be home soon. Bet she’ll bring us those yummy sandwiches you like,” he cood, wishing he could hold you back. To pet your head one more time.

It was too late for reassurance, you were breaking down and sobbing. You wanted to play ball with him. You wanted to go outside and collect snails after the rain.

You wanted to hammer nails into the eyes of your Mother’s boyfriend for doing this to you.

“We’ll—” His head dropped again. Why was it so damn hard to stay awake for you? He’s not allowed to fall asleep again, he knows he can’t. You needed him right now.

Your eyes lifted up to his, full of hurt but patiently waiting for him to speak. “B-Bet we’ll even get to make an omelet today,” your brother finally coughed out.

They finally light up for him.

“Om-let?!” you smile, wide and childish. The goofy smile he should’ve cherished more often.

“Y-Yeah. We’ll sneak out and then go play with the neighbors again after our parents fall asleep,” he says weakly.

You sniffle, having somewhat calmed down at the sound of your brother’s voice, wiping your snotty nose on his shirt and then locking him into a tight embrace. It was hard to hug him with all the stupid chains in the way.

Your Mother has often left the two of you on your own before, but she's never taken this long to get back. Has it been four days? It was getting hard to count when he was unconscious more often than he was not.

Your brother felt cold at the touch and you saw how he leaned into your embrace.

“So be a good girl and go look for food again, okay?” he mumbled.

Closing his eyes, he was thinking about how lucky he is to have met you, despite the circumstances, and how sad he was for bringing you down with him because of his stupid piece-of-shit excuse of a dad.

“Okay…” you finally agreed, reluctant to leave him alone like this. You get up and wobble on your feet again. “I’m so freaking dizzy,” you say, clutching the radiator. He huffed a quiet giggle and a ‘be careful, don’t fall’ before passing out again, making you scoff. You were a big girl now, of course you wouldn’t fall!

You carefully made your way back into the kitchen, your legs threatening to give in. Over time, the hunger in your belly was reduced to a dull manageable ache, but the dizziness still got in the way of you being able to coordinate your movements.

Opening cabinets, you dreamed of finding delicious Pop-Rocks, the ones that felt funny in your mouth. Or some Nutella. Mother would sometimes buy the expensive jars, usually after a big fight at home.

You hated when your family fought. You liked watching ‘Ghibi’ movies with your brother and your Mother instead. On Sundays, when your mom’s stupid boyfriend would be asleep for a very long time.

Your favorite character was Chihiro.

You often dreamt you were Chihiro, taking your big brother and Mother far away. You always wished his dad would turn into one of the pigs and then of course, you’d never bring him back to the real world.

But that would make Mother sad. You hated when she was sad. She didn’t hug you and she would leave home for a very long time when she was. Leave you both alone with him.

And you really really really HATED him.

In the far end corner of the top shelf, you spotted some packaging that you haven’t seen before. It was bread.

Bingo!

You had used the bar stool to get on the counters, your tiny legs unable to reach up otherwise. The problem was that you also possessed tiny arms. You really couldn’t reach the bread in the back on your own.

Looking around, you quickly find a ladle and use it to get to the bread. Your brain fills up with imagery of your proud brother making you giddy and you couldn’t freaking wait to show him what you found. The ladle finally catches despite your shaky grip, and you pull the bread bag towards you. It slides and falls off the shelf.

‘Five seconds rule!’, you chant in your head, as you hurry to get off the counter without breaking your neck.

The bag was already sitting open when you found it, with most of the bread either dry or moldy, but you didn’t care, grabbing whatever was left and stuffing it into your mouth. You were starving.

It took you a while, but you eventually remembered that your brother had an empty tummy too, so you quickly paced towards the living room, tripping and falling face first onto the ground.

“Ouch,” you grunt, rubbing your forehead.

The room was now spinning and it was annoying the heck out of you.

Getting up, you collect the lost slices and close the distance between you and your sleeping brother.

“Hey, ***!” You grin. “Look! Look! I found something!” you say triumphantly, expecting him to open his eyes and smile at you like he always did. “Wake up, or I’ll freaking eat it ALL by myself!” you giggled, ignoring the splitting headache.

He didn’t open his eyes.

Usually, he’d always wake up when you called for him. Even during his really long naps.

You place the bag down and shake him.

“***?”

You shake him again.

“It’s the stupid, patchy, green bread!” you exclaim, placing your hands on his incredibly cold face, “The yucky one! The one that you said will give us superpowers if we eat it! Don’t you want to eat it too?!” you huff annoyedly, pinching one of his cheeks hard. “Wake. UP! I swear, I’ll eat it all by myself! I’ll fly away without you!”

He wouldn't wake up, no matter how many times you called for him.

You eventually gathered more blankets to warm him up. You sat down and placed your head against his shoulder hoping he’d wake soon.

You kept a few slices just for him. He’ll be so proud. You waited patiently.

You waited.

But he didn’t wake up.

───────── The bed creaks and you sit up in a panic.

Gasping for air, you look around the room, trying to figure out where you were.

You’re home. You’re fine. You’re safe.

Amidst your panic attack, you reach for your anti-anxiety pills, taking three whole pills all at once and you slump to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest. You tried evening your breaths out.

Breathe in.

Hold.

Breathe out.

It barely did anything to help your racing heart, but you held onto this routine for as long as you can remember. It’s been a while since you had a nightmare about your childhood, but you always had a feeling that they’d never really go away. You’d never really be able to piece everything back together. You’d never be normal again.

Seconds, minutes, hours pass, with you cradling yourself.

Eventually you calm down enough to get up, grab your phone, play your favourite suicidal playlist and get to work.

It was Saturday and it was time to get ready for the party.

The doorbell to your apartment rings and you open it dressed in nothing but a wrapped towel around your body.

Taylor whistles, “God, babe, what if I was your neighbor right now?” they say and you roll your eyes.

“Quiet. I’ve caught you answering the door for the delivery boy in less,” you hissed back at them and walked away from the doorway.

“Yeah, but I’m always down for a piece of ass. Are you?” they counter and you could just tell without looking that they probably wiggled their eyebrows at you when they said that.

“Fuck off. Did you bring the stuff?” you ask and they place a whole ass bottle of expensive—possibly swiped from one of their richer ‘friends’—tequila bottle on your counter.

“Please, who do you take me for, honestly,” Taylor says, flicking their wrist dismissively.

It was tradition to do a few shots before the party got started, it helped you take the edge off, but that wasn’t what you meant.

“No, idiot. The make-up, the piercings, etcetera.” You grab their bag before they can even answer and start your own search.

“Girl, chill your tits, pleaseee. Everything’s here,” They snatch it from you and start lining up the items. “–-minus maybe that one cute choker you wanted to wear, sorry.” Your friend winces and glances at you. You huff and pick what you need, making your way to the bathroom where the full-length mirror was standing.

“Don’t gotta be a bitch about it, y’know?” they shout after you, “You could always buy your own shiiiit, miss honor student!” But you weren’t listening to their jabs anymore, laser focused on your mental task list before you two ran out of time for the evening. ───────── Despite Taylor’s greatest efforts to get you to move a single damn inch from the entrance of the front yard, your feet were rooted deeply into the ground, right outside the loud booming house party.

Scratch that, it pretty much was a mansion party.

You made it this far, you thought to yourself, but somehow the idea of big crowds and skin to skin contact was heavily turning you off right now.

Taking another deep breath, you say ‘fuck it’ and begin what felt like a trek to the doorstep.

“Das my giiirl!” Taylor beams as they walk past you, dragging you with them, the both of you making your way inside.

“Who’s party is this anyway?” you ask curiously.

“You’re asking me now?” they tease, texting their friend group a message to let them know you’ve arrived before going in. “It’s Keigo’s, dummy.”

“What?! The fucking golden chicken?!” you gasp in disbelief while they rang the doorbell. You should have fucking asked earlier, but how could Taylor do this to you?! “No way you brought me to his house, dude, you fucking know I can’t stand—”

“Yes, yes, I knoooow, but we’re already here, look!”

Some dude opened the door, grinning widely when his eyes landed on Taylor, greeting them with a hug. Then he saw you, and his smile fell to a more forced one, nodding for both of you to go inside.

You roll your eyes as you walk past him, and a wave of overwhelming sensations hits you. The warm air inside is terribly stuffy, charged with unmistakable odors of drugs, sex and alcohol. The music in the room was extremely loud, making every surface inside vibrate.

“It’s ‘kay babe, don’t feel offended about the doorkeeper. He wishes I’d tap that ass, but sadly even I have standards,” they say close to your ear, thinking you’re still worried about the looks you got earlier. ”And you look gorgeous as fuuuck! Don’t overthink it, kay?” A smile began to form on your lips but the two of you were interrupted by a shrill voice.

“Oh myyy gooood—” you see someone frantically waving Taylor over. “Tay, baaaaaaaaaabe!” The person dashes into your friend and tackles them into a hug. You see the rest of their friend group circle around Taylor drawn like moths to a flame, closing you out and suddenly—you’re all alone.

You remember how your friend used to try and get you to mingle with the group, but eventually gave up by the third time they realized you weren’t joking about not being interested in getting to know anyone.

Taylor doesn’t mention it, but you’ve heard their friends call you a stuck-up bitch and teacher’s pet whenever your friend was away.

It’s okay, it is what you wanted after all, so you make your way to the free drinks and pour yourself a big cup of craft beer. You didn’t want to get very drunk tonight, so you started with something easy.

Now to find a relatively quiet place and play your stupid little phone games until it was time to haul Taylor back home.

Honestly, you always wonder why you ever agree to join your best friend on these little overstimulating adventures, because by the end of the party you might have spent a total of twenty minutes with each other, voice straining, shouting over loud music and eventually ending up having to deal with their drunk antics all the way home. It’s always a pain, but you do it because they told you they felt good when you were around, so you keep saying yes.

Well, occasionally.

What you couldn’t believe however, was that you stupidly found yourself at a party hosted by none other than the golden-haired fuckboy you despised almost as much as some other rich asshole you had the pleasure of knowing. Only, the reason for your hatred was a little different this time around.

He's been your direct academic rival for the honorary student spot at your university for a while now, and the only reason you��didn’t lose your scholarship to him, his rich family and his mountain of expensive tutors was sheer dumb luck.

It wasn’t for a lack of him trying his damn best to snatch it from you, but despite the many generous donations the Takami family kept making, the faculty ended up ruling in your favor.

You were part of a special orphanage program, where unfortunate kids with promising achievements were plucked from high schools all over the country and given the opportunity to fight for a free scholarship at various universities, Weston NexTech being part of that program.

In other words, a huge marketing ploy—and if they all operated the way NexTech does, it was a free money sink hole from the government.

The catch was that it wasn’t ever guaranteed you’d be able to reach their expectations, to win the scholarship, and that other students—such as Keigo and his bullshit rich family—could try to play dirty and snatch the scholarships awards for extra decoration on their perfect little resumes if the faculty decided to let it happen. The program wasn’t closely regulated by the state, and it just so happens that the poor, poor students that were picked and paid for, failed miserably and lost their chances! Oh, how could we have ever expected that!

You were one of the two orphan kids at your college who actually managed to meet the program’s ridiculously high academic quota, to finally get your student loans paid for, but ended up becoming a dumb little poster girl in the process. Over the years, you’d occasionally end up getting dragged into marketing campaigns and competitions to advertise—to lie—about the wonderful program that allowed you to be where you are today. Give the youth of tomorrow a promising speech about your tragic upbringing and how lucky you were for them to take you in, to allow you to become who you are now. This is how you lured clueless, hopeful future students into years of endless debt.

Being marginally useful to the university is what tipped the scholarship in your favor.

You worked pretty hard to remain useful to them, no matter how many times assholes like Keigo tried to fuck you over, and now here you stood, at his stupid fucking birthday party, pissed off that you didn’t turn around at the door and left the moment you’d found out.

By the time you finished that long train of thought, your ‘beer’ was empty.

Since you were craving something fruity this time, you walked all the way up to the bartender (because of course he hired a professional one) and asked if they could make you your drink.

You looked around yourself and wondered why everyone seemed to have the time of their life, either drunk or extremely high, while you were sulking in corners hoping you wouldn’t meet anyone who’d recognize you, or worse—meet any one of the creeps who saw your nudes and get harassed over it.

In just about a second though, you’d truly regret coming here altogether, as you spot a group of obnoxious and popular girls making their way to the bar.

You hoped the bartender would hurry the fuck up and cut the drink decoration short, maybe skip the cute straw and the little umbrella this time, but it was too late and the clique was already taking away too much of your breathing space. You turned around, facing away from them, praying to god they were too busy or too intoxicated to notice you standing there.

Why would anything ever go in your favor though?

“Oh. My. God. You guys,” you hear one of them say—Uraraka, you think. How could you ever forget her annoying ass voice. “It’s her!” she whisper-squeals to her friend, a mischievous grin plastered on her stupid fucking face. “We all went to high school together! God do I hate her.” Uraraka-bitch adds, talking to some deep purple spiky hair dude and smacking his arm.

You don’t usually recall anything about people you didn’t see often, so you were surprised you could even piece together that he looked exactly like a budget watered down Da–... Danny? Dabi? Dabi! You mentally pat yourself on the back for remembering something trivial for once, but are quickly forced back to reality by the grating sound of loud, condescending laughter.

“So?” you heard him reply in an even, disinterested voice. You checked your phone and considered texting your friend before rearing up to leave, but hearing them talking shit about you, loud enough for half the population to hear, was awakening some really petty streak inside you.

“So, she was such a fucking creepy psycho! Always wore the same shitty clothes and would constantly pick fights with us, it was scaryyyyyyy! I can’t believe she’s not in prison yet. Didn’t she get charged for something last time?!” they all giggled, “Hey, slut, I know you can hear us. Quit eavesdropping and fuck off!” Toru shouts at you, prompting another wave of annoying giggles.

“Gosh, she always made passes at my ex when we were dating in highschool! She wouldn’t leave him aloone! Little fucking attention whore,” Mina spits out loudly and pointedly to a question no one fucking asked. It was hard to believe they still acted like this as adults.

The ‘ex’ was another asshole who’s never heard of a ‘no’ in his entire life and wouldn’t stop fucking harassing you ever since you entered sophomore year. You rejected him multiple times but somehow he still found a way to humiliate you, like the time he made you fall on the floor and then asked you to blow him in front of the class. Then one of these vapid bitches caught him groping your tits one day, and it was only bruises, blood and broken bones for the rest of your miserable highschool experience after that.

It seemed their juvenile teenage brains hadn't graduated together with them when they got their diplomas, but you were now well in your twenties, and while you’ve grown out of fighting with idiots, you were three tequila shots and half a fruity vodka drink too deep to let it slide.

You roll your eyes, smile as if unbothered and look at the purple copycat from wish, dead in the eyes. Mina was clutching his arm a little tighter when you did, because call it old habits but it meant you weren’t about to keep taking it laying down.

“Hey, MCR-wannabe.” You point at him. “Yeah, you.” He frowns and you see the beginning of a swear forming on his lips, but before he can speak, you cut him off. “Be careful when you dick them down, they like to take secret cock pics and post them online to rate them. Should check your girlfriend’s phone just to be sure.” He snaps his eyes to Mina, who first looks at her partner appalled, and then glares at you.

“And who’d fucking believe you, whore?” she spits, earning her a bunch of ‘yeah’s’. You shrugged.

“Show him your camera roll and we’ll talk after.”

“Wanna have a go then, bitch?” Toru stepped forward, puffing her chest.

You barked a laugh, reminiscing of all the times they threw your PE clothes in the dumpster, held you down so them and their guys could beat the shit out of you, splashed buckets of dirty mop water on your head, destroyed your belongings that you couldn’t afford to replace—all while the teachers turned a blind eye and pretended it was none of their business.

“What are you, fucking twelve? Did you forget I broke two of your fucking fingers, or do you need me to jog your memory?” you snort, one hand swirling the liquid in your glass, feeling the adrenaline pumping hard through your veins. Around second year, you’d grown tired of being their victim. It’s not like you couldn’t fight, there were plenty of…situations to learn from growing up. The problem was that they always came in groups of people, holding you down, sometimes putting bags over your head to catch you off guard and fuck you up until you couldn’t breathe or walk anymore.

Once you finally gave up on your silly dreams of a normal life and your fear of landing in juvie again, you figured out a solution that didn’t involve killing yourself or killing them all.

One by one, you started picking them off every single time you caught them by themselves, and fortunately for you, the teachers turned a blind eye and pretended it was none of their business. Every single time you found any of these assholes defenseless, you’d jump them and then you’d beat each other up until either of you was lying on the floor half unconscious.

At first they’d just pay you double, finding more assholes to join in and beat you up, showing you they had each other—that you had no one. But they didn’t seem so confident anymore whenever they saw your deranged smile, right before they’d leave you in a puddle of your own tears, snot and blood. Because as long as they’d let you live, you’d always find ways to get to them over and over again, until they eventually became too paranoid to walk anywhere by themselves.

You look at the girls in front of you and you’re sure that they remember too. The time you were sent to the ER along with some bitch friend of theirs, the one where you ended up nearly breaking both of her legs. You recall staring at the discolored hospital ceiling when you came to, feeling utterly pathetic that you finally became one of them—felt shame but no guilt. If no one intervened, you would’ve probably killed her and left her lying there on that pavement—felt regret but no remorse.

That’s how you spent your entire senior year—as the weird psychotic orphan girl everyone avoided. It was a peaceful time, except for the two cases of assault charges you caught, threatening to put you in juvie again and get you kicked out of the future scholarship program you’d just enrolled in.

It didn’t go far because you had heaps of proof—pictures, videos, recordings, medical records—that the assault went both ways and the teachers testified for your good conduct at school, but you still had to get through a lot of community service time. “Like you could,” the bitch growled.

“Wanna fuck around and find out?”

A few people noticed the tension around the bar, creating a small commotion.

Uraraka was the first to try and diffuse the situation, now more concerned for her drunk friends getting hurt than wishing for your death. She grabbed Toru by her arm and when she looked at her, she shook her head.

“That’s what I thought.” You roll your eyes, turning on your heel and barely resisting the childish urge to splash your remaining drink all over her stupid fucking face.

“Fucking bitch!” is the last thing you hear as you walk away from the bar with a sour taste in your mouth.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #emotional hurt/comfort #shigaraki tomura #unhealthy relationships #dead dove do not eat #trigger warnings #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x you #tenko shimura #tomura shigaraki #college au #reader is female

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shuhwaa · 1 year

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Chaewon | Study Breaks

Le Sserafim Chaewon x gn!reader words: ~1k genre: domestic fluff, a hint of angst if you squint warnings: suggestive

Desc.: With your girlfriend Chaewon drowning in coursework, it's been days since you've spent a proper amount of time together. As she's hesitant to abandon studying even for a short while, you convince her to let you help her relieve some stress.

"Baby...? Are you done yet?" you ask, trying not to sound too whiny but failing, as you peek into the room. Seeing your girlfriend Chaewon still sitting at her desk, you assume the answer would be no.

"In a bit!" she replies with a bit of a delay, as she's still fully focused on the notes in front of her.

"You've been saying that for hours..." you mumble, feeling a little bitter. You're aware that her coursework is important to her and that it takes priority over anything else, but you can't say you aren't at least a tiny bit jealous that she's spending all day working on college related things and barely paying you any attention lately. Even though you practically live at her place now, seeing how you spend most of your time there.

"Sure," she absentmindedly mutters an answer without even looking up at you once. That's when you've had enough, and with a small whine you decide to take matters into your own hands.

"Apologize!" you say as you approach her from behind, and now she lifts her head, staring at you with both eyebrows raised in surprise. You don't fail to notice the bags under her eyes, or the way her whole complexion tells you that she's very much out of energy.

"What...?" she gasps in surprise as you crouch down next to her, so you're on eye level. You frown and you talk through a pout,

"I've been waiting all day to get some of your attention, but you've been too busy studying!" you explain, and you can see Chaewon becoming increasingly irritated. "I get that your coursework is important, but are you really okay with ignoring me all day for it?" She's gaping at you now, mouth opening and closing as she finds herself at a loss for words. Your girlfriend looks away and takes a deep breath, before finally speaking up.

"Well, put yourself in my shoes then! I still have loads of work to do and an important exam next week! I don't have any time to lose!" You can tell she's upset, and it wasn't your intention to make her angry when she’s already very obviously stressed. So instead of risking a fight and talking back at her, you find yourself merely staring at her rosy lips.

"...what?" Chaewon asks, seeming confused again.

"Just... I thought you could use a little break." You see her shoulders relax as the frown gradually disappears off her face and she seems to understand. Speaking more quietly, you add, "And also, the last time you kissed me was five days ago. I can't go much longer without..." As if realizing that you are indeed right, she gasps, throwing a hand over her mouth.

"Oh my... I didn't notice how quick time passed..." she says, regret audible in her voice. "I'm so sorry, baby..."

"Well... you can make up for it now?" you suggest. As a part of you is still fearing she would reject you, Chaewon is already leaning in. Pressing her lips against yours, you can feel clearly now how much you missed this feeling - and how much you're missing her, even though she's right next to you.

"Baby..." you mumble against her lips, "take a little break with me, hm?" Breaking the kiss, Chaewon looks around the room nervously. You know she's about to explain how she has no time to lose, and how she still has so much left to study. However, not giving her a chance to talk, you draw closer and kiss her again. You're a bit surprised when she simply lets you, following your rhythm and moving her lips at the pace you set. You find her hands, intertwining your fingers with hers as you slowly get up, and when you separate for air, you pull her up off the chair. Wrapping your arms around her slender body, she's pressed up against you now, face flushed. Shooting her a victorious grin, you reconnect your lips and lead her into an open-mouthed kiss. She doesn't resist when you slowly start walking across the room, and once your calves hit the edge of her bed, you sit down, breaking the kiss as a result.

"Come here," you whisper, shooting your girlfriend an expectant gaze as you pat your lap once, and after a bit of hesitation, she crawls on top of you. Her hands find the back of your neck, fingertips dancing over the skin until she has your face cupped in her palms. Meanwhile, you loosely place your hands on her waist, bringing her in closer, and when you see her biting her lower lip in expectation, your heart begins to race.

"Fine," she mouths. "You win." Her breath tickles your skin as she draws near, and next thing you know she's straddling you as she shares a slow but passionate kiss with you. You end up lying on your back eventually, your girlfriend on top of you as her lips refuse to leave yours. Her hands are starting to roam your body, but not much later you take a hold of them and flip your positions around. Loosely pinning her to the sheets, you sit up to get a closer look at her face, her cheeks dusted in pink.

"Chae," you call out to her. "I'll help you release all of your stress, love. So you can focus on studying again. Okay?" She can't do anything but nod, her blush growing darker by a shade as her breath quickens, and she’s expectantly looking up at you.

"Okay," she mutters eventually, and you shoot her a smile before lowering yourself to kiss her again. Your lips travel to her neck eventually, exploring every inch of her skin along the way as if it was the first time.

"I've missed you, baby," you whisper in between nipping at her skin and relishing in the tiny whines she lets you hear.

"Me too," she responds, shyly adding, "Don't stop."

"I won't," you assure her. "Not until we've gotten rid of all your pent up stress. Promise."

#le sserafim fluff #le sserafim x reader #chaewon x reader #chaewon fluff #le sserafim drabbles #le sserafim scenarios #le sserafim imagines #chaewon drabbles #lesserafim drabbles #lesserafim fluff #girl group x reader #fluff

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handwrittenhello · 1 year

Text

might've been a nightmare

“Ugh, you and your contracts,” Jaskier complained. “Surely an hour or two won’t hurt?” “And when someone dies because of that hour’s delay,” Geralt said placidly, “will you be the one to tell the family? Or shall I?” Jaskier grimaced. “Yes, alright, I get it. A witcher’s work never rests, et cetera et cetera.” “Hmm.” “Don’t you ever want it, though?” Jaskier asked, plucking at his sweat-soaked shirt. “You know, a life lived without a little selfishness here and then is hardly a life worth living at all.” Geralt snorted. “They teach you that at Oxenfurt? Or does it come from being a noble by birth?” “Neither. It comes from the heart, my dear friend, a heart that has lived a long and experienced life.” “Jaskier, you’re twenty-three.”

Geralt takes on a contract that will force him to answer one question: will he choose the fate of one, or the fate of many?

Rating: M Word Count: 9134 Tags: Horror, Suspense, Case Fic, Monster of the Week, Angst, Injury, Developing Relationship, Mystery, set nebulously s1, POV Geralt of Rivia, Fluff, Humor, Banter, Soft Geralt of Rivia, (believe it or not despite those first few tags there ARE soft moments in this), Protective Geralt of Rivia, Self-Sacrifice, Jaskier Whump, Hurt Jaskier

read below, or here on ao3!

It was a swelteringly hot day. The height of summer in Velen was rarely pleasant, but a heat wave had been gripping the area for a few days now. Geralt subtly adjusted his armor in an attempt to allow a breeze to cool the sweat collecting on his back, but the air was deader than a necrophage’s dinner.

Any sane person would have long since abandoned their work in favor of taking a dip in a nearby pond, or napping under some shady trees. Geralt could afford no such luxury—there was always work to be done, and quickly in the summer, lest rotting corpses draw even more monsters to fight.

Jaskier, plodding along beside Roach, wiped sweat off his brow with a deep sigh. “Melitele’s heaving bosom, I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he groused. “What do you say to a break? Let the sun use up the worst of its ire while we regain some energy? Perhaps cool off in a nice stream?” he finished hopefully. His cheeks and tips of his ears were pink with the beginnings of a sunburn.

“There’s a contract waiting in Mulbrydale,” Geralt reminded him. “We can’t delay.”

“Ugh, you and your contracts,” Jaskier complained. “Surely an hour or two won’t hurt?”

“And when someone dies because of that hour’s delay,” Geralt said placidly, “will you be the one to tell the family? Or shall I?”

Jaskier grimaced. “Yes, alright, I get it. A witcher’s work never rests, et cetera et cetera.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t you ever want it, though?” Jaskier asked, plucking at his sweat-soaked shirt. “You know, a life lived without a little selfishness here and then is hardly a life worth living at all.”

Geralt snorted. “They teach you that at Oxenfurt? Or does it come from being a noble by birth?”

“Neither. It comes from the heart, my dear friend, a heart that has lived a long and experienced life.”

“Jaskier, you’re twenty-three.”

“So that’s twenty-three more years of experience enjoying life than you!” Jaskier paused to drain his waterskin, wrinkling his nose at the tepidity. “Blech. Anyway.”

“Anyway.”

“I’ll get you to be more selfish yet.” Jaskier wagged his finger at Geralt threateningly. “We’ll start small, and then before you know it you’ll have dropped the witchers-don’t-deserve-good-things act. Who knows, you might even dare to enjoy yourself now and then!”

Geralt only rewarded this with another hmm and handed Jaskier his own waterskin. Jaskier accepted, drinking deeply and wiping his mouth on his sleeve after.

“It’s a good thing I’m here to take care of you,” he finished, recapping the skin and handing it back to Geralt.

By the time they reached Mulbrydale, the sun had finally hidden itself behind the treetops, golden where it filtered through the leaves. Outside the town gates, a man hung lanterns to guide travelers in the coming darkness. “Ho, travelers!” he shouted when he saw them, raising a hand.

“Good evening, my good gentleman!” Jaskier cried back, as easy as breathing. Geralt would never know how he was able to flit among strangers so easily, how he fit in anywhere he went.

“Not as good as that, I’m afraid,” the man replied, drawing the gates open for them. “Best ye get a room at the inn and settle in quick, you hear?”

“What’s wrong?” Geralt rumbled, swinging his leg over Roach’s saddle and dismounting. He was quick to grab his swords as well, his palms itching in anticipation.

The man shook his head. “Couldn’t rightly put a name to it. People’re anxious, on edge. Won’t take too kindly to strangers making waves.”

Jaskier slung his lute case over to the side so the man could see it. “Ah, but do they know that the White Wolf has come to slay their beast? And that his loyal barker will regale them with the tale all night long should they wish? Come now, surely a little entertainment wouldn’t go amiss.”

The man shook his head. “I doubt you’d get more than sour looks out of this crowd, but on your own head be it.” He stepped aside to let them pass into town, and latched the gates closed after them.

Despite the early hour, not many people were out in the streets. There were no shrieks of children’s laughter, no wives gossiping over their washing, no farmers hauling home the day’s harvest.

“Lively place,” Jaskier muttered, kicking at a rock and sending it skidding down the dirt road. “What, did they all die of heatstroke today?”

Geralt didn’t answer. Jaskier was right—a town like this, though small, should have shown some signs of life. Spirits were usually high around midsummer—there ought to be festival preparations, or traders passing through, or even hog-wrestling competitions planned. Anything besides… this.

A dog came sniffing around the corner, nose pressed to the ground, ears back. When it saw them, walking along in its direction, it raised its head and growled, baring its teeth.

“Whoa there,” Jaskier laughed, throwing his hands up palms-forward. “What a good boy guarding his home,” he cooed. “We’re just passing by, don’t worry.”

The dog didn’t look convinced. It remained tense in its posture, hackles raised as they walked by—giving it a wide berth—and Geralt prepared to cast Axii should it attack.

It made no move towards them, and they were allowed to pass without incident.

“I’m normally good with animals,” Jaskier commented as they continued towards the inn, the Cock and Crow. It was lit brightly from within, the dull roar of overlapping voices drifting over on the wind—finally, a sign of life. “Maybe the poor thing’s been mistreated. That must be it.”

“I’ve seen you nearly get a hand taken off by the Baron of Vergen’s prized poodle,” Geralt remarked dryly. “You don’t remember?”

Jaskier flapped a hand. “Again, an anomaly. That thing was a vicious beast, Geralt, out for blood. Besides, you’re one to talk, Mr. Cats Hate Me.”

“It’s the mutations,” Geralt replied wearily, as he did every time the topic cropped up in conversation. “They can sense it.”

“They can sense you’re a sourpuss, you mean,” Jaskier teased. “You and that big scary face of yours.”

Geralt glowered.

“Ooh, yeah, that one.”

Geralt glowered harder.

Jaskier cackled and ran ahead, bursting into the inn with a flourish. Geralt followed at a more sedate pace, taking Roach to the stables, and arriving just in time to see Jaskier shaking hands with the innkeeper. She tilted her head and Jaskier took the stage, launching into one of his newer songs almost immediately.

A few heads turned to look at the source of noise, but by and large the patrons largely ignored him. Jaskier, never one to let a tough crowd bother him, pressed on.

Geralt turned to the innkeep. “Two rooms, please.” With the pay from the contract coming, they could afford it.

She clicked her tongue. “I’m afraid we only have the one. Two beds, though, if you like.”

“Fine.” He counted out the requisite coin onto the rough wood of the countertop. “And two meals, please, and a pitcher of ale.”

She took the payment, biting on a coin to ensure it was real—which stung a little, as it always did, these reminders of their distrust in him—but accepted it without complaint, handing over a brass key hung on a leather cord.

“First room on the left up the stairs,” she directed him, “and Magda will have your meals in just a tick. Magda!” she shouted, and a young woman poked her head out from the back room. “Two meals, quick as you please.”

“Got it, Sal,” Magda replied, wiping her hands on her apron. Geralt sat at the bar to wait.

Jaskier had since transitioned to some of his older work, likely in hopes of winning the crowd over with tried-and-true hits, but still didn’t seem to be making much progress. His lute case, propped open on the floor in front of him, had naught but a few coppers in it. Geralt would describe the overall mood of the crowd as annoyed at best.

Underneath the din of Jaskier’s playing, Geralt caught a few murmurs with his superior hearing—fucking twit, awful noise, can’t he just fuck off. He frowned. Jaskier hadn’t met with a crowd this bad in years, not since gaining popularity by Geralt’s side.

Sal placed two plates in front of him, interrupting his thoughts. “Here you are,” she said, following it with a large pitcher of ale. “Bring the plates back to the kitchen when you’re done, Magda’s off for the night.”

Geralt nodded his thanks, digging into his food while it was still hot. It was alright—chicken with rosemary and garlic, spices he rarely found while foraging, but overcooked and dry. The potatoes were too salty for his taste, and the carrots not cooked enough.

But any food that he didn’t have to prepare himself was a luxury, so he ate it without complaint and until there was hardly a morsel left on his plate.

He restrained himself from sucking the marrow out of the chicken bones, too, aware that anyone who saw would be rightly disgusted. He was content, anyway, since food hadn’t been too hard to come by lately, not with the land so glutted in summer.

He nursed his ale while Jaskier sang, in a rare good mood for once, contrary to the atmosphere of the other patrons. He wouldn’t say he was disappointed, exactly, when Jaskier packed up early and joined him at the bar, but he supposed he could’ve borne a few more verses without complaint.

“Don’t know what has gotten into everyone,” Jaskier muttered under his breath, sliding onto a stool, just loud enough that only Geralt could hear him. “Is it me? Have I got something on my face?” He looked at Geralt so earnestly, painfully young in that moment.

“Spinach in your teeth,” Geralt said, instead of voicing any of that. Jaskier of course had no such thing—they hadn’t even eaten any spinach in the last few days—but Jaskier still spent an embarrassing amount of time fretting and trying to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the inn’s spoons.

Geralt left him to his meal and went to go brush down Roach. He really ought to have done it earlier, but the extra half hour or so of waiting wouldn’t kill her.

The process was soothing, almost as good as meditation at centering himself and winding down for the day. He left her with plenty of feed and fresh water and went back into the inn.

To his surprise, he was greeted with dark looks from a few of the patrons, though none dared to make a move against him. Unsettled, Geralt retreated quickly to their room, where he found Jaskier already unpacking.

“Geralt, have you seen my quill?” Jaskier asked him, without turning around. “I swear I left it in the same pocket as my notebook, but…” he trailed off, digging around in his pack.

“No. Keep track of your own shit, bard,” Geralt grunted, sitting down on the furthest bed and pulling off his boots. His socks reeked after a day sweating in the sun, so he quickly shoved them in his pack and pulled on a new pair. What he wouldn’t give for a wash, but it was too late for that, probably. He’d have one tomorrow, after completing the promised contract, anyway.

Jaskier puttered about for a good bit more, still looking for his quill, before Geralt sighed and relented to helping him. He wasn’t tired yet, anyway, and didn’t feel like uselessly sharpening his swords or sorting his already-sorted elixirs.

The sneaky quill was hiding exactly where Geralt suspected it would be, in Jaskier’s own pack, though of course he only found it after Geralt had emptied his entire pack too.

Jaskier smiled sheepishly and accepted it, rolling it between his fingers, and set immediately to scribbling in his notebook. He hadn’t even sat down properly, perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed with one leg half underneath him, boots shedding dirt and dust onto the blankets. Geralt sighed.

The scratching of Jaskier’s quill was almost soothing, Geralt long since used to the sound of it in the background. He doused one candle, leaving the other for Jaskier to see by, and undressed and climbed into bed. A full night’s sleep was invaluable when preparing for a hunt, and Geralt was eager to take advantage of it.

With the light of the rising moon filtering in between the shutters, and Jaskier’s breathless humming serenading him, Geralt dropped off to sleep.

The call of roosters at dawn roused him, his eyes opening easily and smoothly as if he’d simply been waiting to wake up. Jaskier, of course, slept right through it, as he was able to sleep through most anything, snoring away despite how he insisted I don’t snore, Geralt!

Geralt sighed and dressed, pulling his hair back into a tie to keep it out of his face. He really ought to have brushed it, to get some of the dirt and oils out and lessen the chances of a snarling tangle later, but couldn’t find the effort. Jaskier seemed to have made it his personal mission to take care of Geralt’s hair, anyway, and Geralt expected a thorough washing and maybe even a lecture later, regardless of if he brushed it or not.

He splashed cool water on his face from the basin against the wall, not bothering to pat it dry with a towel. He enjoyed the way it evaporated on his skin in the humid morning air. That done, he wandered downstairs to the kitchens, where Magda was stirring a large pot of oats over the hearth. “Morning, sir witcher,” she greeted him, wiping her brow dry with a cloth. “Breakfast’ll be ready in a few minutes, if you’d like.”

“Thanks,” Geralt said, stopping in the doorway. “Anything I can help with?”

“Mm, I’m almost done, but if you fancy any nuts or berries with it, there’s some in the cellar.” She nodded her head towards a trapdoor set into the floor.

Geralt climbed down into the cellar’s cool dryness, a welcome respite from the heat of the kitchen. The cellar was truly full to bursting, the village apparently having had a prosperous season so far, but it didn’t take too long to locate a jar of preserved peaches, Jaskier’s favorite, and a sack of walnuts. Prizes in hand, he returned to Magda, who was ladling a few spoonfuls of oatmeal each into bowls.

She added the fruit and nuts and handed two bowls to Geralt, who handed over a few coins in return. When Geralt opened the door to their room, Jaskier finally roused, though that was probably more the fault of the oats’ cinnamony aroma than anything else. “Mmph, is that breakfast I smell?” Jaskier mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

Geralt handed him his bowl, sitting down on his own bed to eat. The food was good, and filling. Jaskier yawned his way through his own bowl, still waking up, but by the time Geralt was done, he had revived a little. “What were you doing up so late?” Geralt asked neutrally. It was no business of his when Jaskier went to sleep, but normally the bard was more conscious of the time when he knew he would be coming along on a contract the next day.

“It wasn’t that late,” Jaskier protested. “Just didn’t sleep well, I suppose. We can’t all wake up at the crack of dawn looking fresh as a daisy, Geralt.”

Geralt, who had notably never resembled a daisy in his life, gave Jaskier a flat look. Jaskier grinned.

“Be ready to leave in ten minutes,” Geralt ordered, snatching up Jaskier’s empty bowl. Jaskier got ready for the day—spending twice as much time doing his hair than anything else—while Geralt checked over his swords and elixirs.

When Jaskier finally declared himself fit for company—as if the workers at the quarry would care if his doublet were green or red—they set out on foot, leaving Roach behind for the day. Geralt was loath to work her harder than he had to in the summer heat.

The quarry was only a few miles from Mulbrydale, anyway, and it gave Geralt a chance to stretch his legs and warm up for the fight.

Jaskier walked beside him, composing some silly ode about the day—Geralt didn’t see any mares two abreast in the golden fields or orchards dripping with the ambrosia of summer, but they made it into his song anyway.

“Hoping to impress the miners?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier fiddled with the tuning pegs of his lute. “Maybe. They can’t be a worse crowd than last night,” he scoffed. “Besides, I find that the common folk appreciate songs that reflect the world they live in. It’s about finding beauty in one’s surroundings. I had a professor once who swore…”

Jaskier launched into a story, something about pastorals and creative license and natural rhyme schemes. Geralt let the words wash over him and trekked on.

The sun had fully risen by the time the tall spiked fence surrounding the quarry came into view. “That’s suitably menacing,” Jaskier commented. “Do you think it’s to keep something out, or to keep something in?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Wild dogs roam these parts,” Geralt answered.

Jaskier scowled. “Oh, you’re no fun.”

“It’s not my job to entertain.” Geralt threw a pointed look at Jaskier. “Now come on.” He pushed open the gates, creaking on their hinges.

The quarry was a hive of activity, concentric rings of stone jutting down into the earth at lower and lower heights. Ladders and platforms adorned the quarry at odd intervals, with workers scurrying up and down and to and fro. It was a hive of activity, buoyed by the sounds of picks striking stone and echoing calls shouted among the miners.

Their arrival drew the attention of a grey-haired man stationed in a tall watchtower off of the main path. “Witcher!” he called, descending the ladder. “Thank the gods you’re here. I’m Eryk, the foreman of this quarry, and I’m mighty glad to have ye here.”

“You have a contract for me?” Geralt asked.

“Yessir. Come on, I’ll show ye.” Eryk gestured for them to follow. He led them down the spiraling path, descending deeper and deeper into the quarry, climbing up and down ladders with ease that belied his age.

As they passed, miners would stop their work and openly stare. Geralt, long since used to it, ignored it, though their gazes burned on the back of his neck.

“We’ve been hearin’ noises, you see,” Eryk said, hardly out of breath. “Always at night, after work ends for the day. We think they’re comin’ from the old shaft at the bottom of the pit.”

“Delightful,” Jaskier muttered. Geralt fought a small smile.

“Can you describe them?”

“It’s a howling of sorts, though I’ve lived in this area me whole life, and t’ain’t no dogs nor wolves sound like that.”

“Hmm. Seen any tracks, any evidence of a beast nearby? Maybe fur or droppings?”

Eryk shook his head. “Nothing, though I reckon ye’ve better eyes than us.”

“I’ll take a look,” Geralt promised.

They were almost to the bottom, now, the walls of the quarry towering high above them. Down here, the echoes of pickaxes and shovels were amplified, ringing in Geralt’s ears like an avalanche. Dust covered everything in a thin layer, raining down softly like snow.

“And to think I’d just washed my hair,” Jaskier mourned, ruffling it and undoing all the effort he’d put in that morning styling it. A small cloud of dust rained to the ground. “Just watch, soon I’ll—”

He cut off as a bit of the rock shelf fell away beneath him, sending him scrambling to the side in a bid to escape a nasty fall over the edge. Geralt wasn’t quick enough to catch him before his foot landed wrong, sliding on a piece of shale and wrenching his ankle the wrong direction. “Gah! Fuck!” Jaskier yelled, pinwheeling his arms to stay upright.

Geralt lurched forward, snagging him around the waist and setting him down on more solid ground. “Fuck,” Jaskier cursed again, leaning forward to pull off his boot. “That hurt,” he groused, poking at his ankle, which was already starting to swell up.

Geralt crouched down next to him and grabbed his ankle, pulling off his sock as he did.

“Stop, that hurts,” Jaskier complained, ineffectually batting Geralt’s prodding hands away. Geralt felt no bones out of place, no grinding of cartilage or sharp fragments.

“Just a sprain,” he said, setting Jaskier’s foot back down. “We’ll wrap it, though there’s no snow or ice nearby to slow the swelling.”

“Nonsense, I’m fine,” Jaskier protested, struggling to pull his sock and boot back on. He levered himself up to standing despite Geralt’s attempts to keep him seated, bracing himself on the witcher’s broad shoulder.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled.

“It’s fine!” Jaskier insisted, waving both him and Eryk off, who had noticed the commotion and doubled back.

“I swear, this place must be cursed,” he said, shaking his head. “First Davy almost took an arm off. Then it was Niklas, with that concussion, and now this.”

Geralt frowned. “Cursed?” Could that explain the strange howls at night? “Have you noticed any magical effects?” His medallion wasn’t humming, but there could be any number of reasons for that…

“Ach, ‘twas only an expression. Truly, I think some beastie must haunt our mine. The rest is just plain bad luck.”

“Lady Luck can be a cruel mistress indeed,” Jaskier chimed in, limping forward. Geralt fought off a headache at the sight. “I’ve always been clumsy, though, my good friend here can attest to that—”

“Will you stop moving?” Geralt growled, catching Jaskier by the shoulder. “You have a sprained ankle. You need to sit or it’ll get worse.”

“And I told you I’m fine,” Jaskier snapped, whirling on Geralt. “Just because I’m human doesn’t mean I’m a fragile doll, Master Witcher.” The vitriol in Jaskier’s words surprised Geralt. He pushed past Eryk and stomped off down the slope.

Geralt followed, and they soon arrived at the bottom of the pit. There was a small camp of sorts, with tents pitched in the middle surrounding a firepit, ringed by barrels and crates of supplies. Geralt counted seven smaller tents, and one bigger, sturdier structure behind the ring, tucked underneath some scaffolding. The ground was cracked and dry, though were it to rain, the dirt would quickly turn to sticky, sucking mud. There were planks of wood laid across the ground to walk on, uneven and rough.

Set against the nearest quarry face was the shaft Eryk had mentioned. It was barred with two doors made of wooden planks nailed sloppily together, which creaked on their hinges as Eryk unlocked and swung them open.

Inside was a typical mineshaft, dark, damp, and smelling slightly of burnt rock dust. But underneath, there was definitely the undercurrent of something rotting. Necrophages, definitely.

“I’m going in. Lock the doors behind me. They’ll be agitated, and you don’t want one getting out,” Geralt instructed, pulling a vial of Cat from his bag. He downed it in one, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline through his veins as his vision sharpened and the shadows brightened. “Stay here.”

“Geralt—” Jaskier began, as if to follow Geralt.

“No,” Geralt growled. “It’ll be too dark to see anything, and you won’t get very far on that ankle. Stay. Here.”

Without waiting for an answer, he strode forth into the mineshaft, drawing his silver sword. The doors creaked shut behind him, plunging the mine into shadow.

Geralt kept his senses primed as he ventured forth, listening for any scrape of claws on stone or any scent of rotten meat. The tunnel split into two paths ahead; following his gut, Geralt took the left, which showed more condensation on the walls and sloped slightly downward.

The ground was worn smooth underneath his boots by years of miners treading over it, but when he concentrated, Geralt could pick out thin notches scored into the stone. Four deep furrows and a fifth shallow one set apart—the typical pattern of an alghoul’s claws.

And caught in patches here and there on the walls, little tufts of fur—dark, fully mature. Fuck. Alghouls were even more dangerous than garden-variety ghouls, their venom more potent and able to pierce a Quen shield easily with the ridge of spines on their backs.

Geralt dug in his pack for another vial, pulling out necrophage oil. He dripped it along his blade, coating the metal to weaken and poison the beasts. As prepared as he could be, Geralt crept forward down the tunnel.

As he rounded a final corner, he heard it: the rumbling growls of a sleeping alghoul. Its nest was up ahead. Geralt didn’t dare hope for an easy fight, but perhaps he could gain the advantage of surprise.

The alghoul didn’t rouse at his cautious approach—a good sign. It had gotten complacent down here, untouched by predators. Geralt raised his sword to strike.

Then—behind him. A slight shuffling, a small scrape of claws on stone was all the warning Geralt got as a second alghoul launched itself at him, a screaming growl tearing its way out of its maw.

Geralt swung his sword up just in time to deflect vicious claws slashing at his throat. He threw out an Aard with his dominant hand, knocking it backwards into the wall, stunning it just long enough for Geralt to whirl around again.

The other alghoul had been woken by the commotion, and attacked him with no less ferocity. One alghoul was difficult enough, but fending off two would be a challenge Geralt hadn’t had in a long while.

The fight was a blur. Geralt fell into rote patterns of slashing, blocking, dodging. What made it more difficult was fighting in such a confined space—there was scarcely ten feet of space between the walls of the tunnel, and the rocky ceiling wasn’t much taller than him. He had to be conscious of every single move, every foot he placed and every attack he made.

One lucky strike caught the female of the pair in the throat. Hot, sticky ichor burst forth from the wound, staining the ground and walls black. It shrieked and gurgled in pain, lashing out with the rage of a wild animal, but its strength rapidly failed.

The second one, enraged by the death of the first, redoubled its attacks. Geralt cast Quen right before its spines caught him in the face. His shield exploded and he got away with only a small nick over his eyebrow, and it gave him the opening to thrust his sword out and up into its soft belly, rending it open from groin to skull.

Its steaming innards billowed out, the stench of death rapidly filling the cavern. Geralt caught his breath, wiping sweat off his brow—the fight had been long, and even deep in here the heat of summer still penetrated.

He cut off the front claws of the two beasts as proof of his kill, then set about destroying their nest. A gruesome sight greeted him: a pile of bones, some animal, some human, most with bits of flesh still hanging off of them. It reeked like all necrophage dens did, and Geralt held his breath as he kicked away bones and set everything aflame with Igni.

His work done, Geralt hiked out of the mineshaft, his eyes slowly adjusting to the searing light of outside. Cat wore off shortly before he exited, a rare blessing not to have to fight off a headache as he talked to the contract giver.

Eryk and Jaskier were still waiting outside when he pushed the doors open, and had been joined by a small group of miners. All were sitting on assorted crates and boxes, dragged over to form a half-circle.

Jaskier, ever the entertainer, was in the middle of a story, complete with wild gestures and probably more than a few tall tales. As soon as Geralt approached, though, he paused, greeting him with a joyous “Geralt!”

“You shouldn’t be standing on that ankle,” Geralt huffed, throwing the alghoul claws at Eryk’s feet. “I killed the beasts. Two alghouls made a nest in the western tunnel. Shouldn’t be a problem anymore.”

“Ye killed ‘em already, Master Witcher? My, ye work fast!” Eryk crowed, picking up the claws with interest and examining them. “Vicious beasties, they had to be, with knives like these!”

Either Eryk was genuinely impressed, which was exceedingly rare, or he was trying to stiff Geralt on payment and hoped that compliments would ease the sting. “We didn’t agree on a price beforehand.”

Eryk dropped the claws. “No. I didn’t think ye’d kill ‘em so fast, to be honest. What’s the going rate?”

Geralt hummed, tilting his head. “Normally I’d charge one-fifty for necrophages.”

“But?” Eryk prompted, savvy to the kind of hard bargain men on the Continent drove.

“But alghouls are much more dangerous, especially in pairs.” Geralt paused. “Three hundred.”

“I don’t have that kind of coin, Master Witcher, not with business so slow. Two hundred.”

“Two fifty,” Geralt acquiesced, which was what he’d been hoping for anyway.

“Deal.” They shook on it, Eryk grimacing slightly as some ichor rubbed off on him. He wiped his hand on his pants. “Thing is, though…”

Geralt sighed. “You don’t have the coin.” Of course.

“But I will!” Eryk promised. “There’s a shipment pickup tomorrow morning, a big order from Novigrad. Come by tomorrow and I’ll have yer coin for ye.”

As if Geralt had any other choice. And he’d so been looking forward to a hot bath paid for with his newfound wealth. “Fine,” he growled. “Tomorrow morning.” He turned to Jaskier. “Come on, bard.”

Jaskier limped his way over to Geralt. There was no way he could walk all the way back to the inn like that, and Geralt had little stamina left to carry him. Not to mention the indignity of it all, which Jaskier would surely protest.

An idea struck Geralt. “May he borrow a horse for the way back? He can’t walk on that.” Plus it would be insurance, an incentive to pay Geralt what he was owed the next day.

“Geralt, I’m fine—” interrupted Jaskier. Geralt ignored him.

Eryk frowned. “I’ve got but an old nag, not fit for much carryin’.”

“It’s not far. A few miles.”

“Fine, fine, but I’m not payin’ for ye to stable her.” He led Geralt and Jaskier to the side of the large cabin, where four horses were stabled. He had her saddled up quickly, and Geralt helped Jaskier into the saddle despite his protests. Once settled, he did look happier to be off his ankle. Geralt resolutely didn’t say I told you so.

Geralt led her up and out of the quarry while Jaskier rode, throwing goodbyes out to the miners. He’d made fast friends, it seemed.

It was late afternoon, nearly evening, by the time they arrived back at the inn, both their stomachs rumbling. In the excitement they’d both forgotten to eat lunch. When they got close to the inn, Jaskier dismounted, despite Geralt’s attempts to keep him on the horse. “I’ll see about a meal,” he said, shooing Geralt off to the stables.

Geralt hurriedly got the old nag settled and followed Jaskier into the Cock and Crow.

And just in time, because Jaskier, always pushing himself too far, reached his limit as he started up the stairs. “Shit,” he cursed as his leg buckled beneath him. Geralt caught him underneath the armpits and swung him up into a carry, ignoring his wriggling. “I can walk,” he said mulishly, just for appearance’s sake, because he very clearly could not.

“You shouldn’t,” Geralt returned bluntly, pushing open the door to their room and setting him on his bed.

He knelt and pulled off Jaskier’s boot, ignoring the way he pouted. It was a good thing Geralt had brought his pack with him; he reached in and pulled out some old but clean bandages.

“Aren’t you always telling me to be more careful with myself?” Geralt lectured as he wrapped Jaskier’s ankle. Jaskier crossed his arms with a huff.

“That’s different. You hunt monsters; I apparently have trouble even walking right.”

“It’s not,” Geralt argued. “A sprained ankle isn’t nothing, especially if you don’t treat it properly.” Surely Jaskier knew the dangers—permanent damage, or worse. And for a bard that made his living by walking around the Continent after Geralt… “What’s this about?”

Jaskier sighed and hung his head, caught out. “I didn’t want to be left behind,” he admitted. “I desperately need new material, especially if I’m to please such a fickle crowd as the one here.”

“Material for your songs? That’s why you’re being so stubborn?” Geralt could hardly believe it. He knew Jaskier went above and beyond for his craft, but this…

The thing was, Geralt was realizing, was that Jaskier wanted. He wanted to the point of idiocy sometimes, beyond all logic. He would injure himself further in a heartbeat, just to follow Geralt into dark places.

Selfish.

Geralt held his tongue and began wrapping Jaskier’s ankle, firm but gentle with his movements, despite how he wanted to shake some sense into the bard. Jaskier, in a rare show of wisdom, kept quiet, even when Geralt accidentally pulled too hard and jarred his ankle. “Sorry,” he murmured.

“’S okay,” Jaskier replied. “Thanks.”

“Keep your weight off it,” Geralt instructed, standing and brushing off his knees. “It’s the wrong season for ice or snow to bring the swelling down, but I may have enough herbs for a salve.”

“You don’t have to do that, it doesn’t hurt,” Jaskier said quickly.

Geralt gave him a flat look.

“Alright, it doesn’t hurt much,” he amended. “Besides, you need those for your potions and whatnot.”

Geralt ignored him—he was doing a lot of that lately, he realized—and rifled through his pack until he found the herbs he needed. Jaskier scribbled in his notebook as Geralt ground them up into a paste, tasting it himself afterwards to be sure he’d gotten the proportions correct. Then he scooped it up into a small tin he’d recently emptied out, screwing the lid on and tossing it into Jaskier’s lap after.

The bard fumbled to catch it, almost upturning his inkpot onto the bedcovers in the process. With a yelp he barely managed to catch both, throwing a look at Geralt that suggested he was unamused. Geralt grinned back.

He left Jaskier to his songwriting while he went downstairs to talk to Sal. She was running plates out to the patrons, looking thoroughly harried in the rush of the dinner hour. Geralt had wanted a bath, but decided to risk her ire by interrupting just then, and instead sat down at the bar to order a flagon of ale.

He let the scents of the kitchen and the noise of the crowd wash over him, sipping calmly at his ale almost as if in meditation. Normally a crowd like this would welcome Jaskier’s playing—Geralt wondered if he would risk facing them again tonight.

Likely not without new material, Geralt concluded, and ordered another ale.

In the corner, two men suddenly leapt to their feet. “You cheatin’ bastard!” yelled one, face red with rage, almost the same shade as his hair. “I want my money back!”

“Cheating? You’re the one that cheated, you lying fuck!” Saying so, he pulled his fist back and slugged the redheaded man in the nose. Geralt grimaced, his advanced hearing picking up the sound of cartilage breaking under the blow. Blood spurted forth.

Geralt made as if to get up, but was beaten by a broad-shouldered farmer intervening in the fight. “Stop it, you two! Brendan!” he hollered, catching another swing that was aimed for the redhead’s face. “What would your da say?”

Brendan shrugged the farmer off. “He wouldn’t say shit, because you”—he pointed an accusing finger at the redhead—“got him killed!” He lunged forward again, was only barely pulled back this time.

“That weren’t me, it were an accident!” the redhead protested, muffled through his hand covering his nose and mouth. “He just fell—”

“He worked at that quarry for fifteen years,” Brendan snarled. “He knew the paths like the back of his hand! He could climb them in his sleep!”

The quarry again. Eryk had mentioned accidents earlier, and Jaskier spraining his ankle… Geralt’s blood ran cold. Was it possible there was something more going on than just the alghoul infestation?

It was too late to return to the quarry, the sun already setting. When he went back tomorrow morning to return the nag and collect his payment, he would inquire further into these accidents, see if there actually was a curse laid on the place.

For now, he went back upstairs to join Jaskier for dinner, turning the day’s events over and over in his mind. Jaskier plucked away at his lute, shaping a new melody, bouncing lyrics off of Geralt, who honestly couldn’t tell the difference between most of the choices Jaskier offered. He lay on his bed and pretended to sleep.

Jaskier shook his head in response to Geralt’s grunts and scribbled notes in his notebook, before finally declaring his masterpiece complete.

“I couldn’t find very good rhymes for alghouls, so I don’t want to hear any criticism about my wordplay,” Jaskier warned, strumming the opening chords on his lute.

The song was catchy, Geralt had to admit. Even though he hadn’t seen the fight in the tunnel, Jaskier painted an exciting picture of Geralt slaying the ‘dual alghouls’, resulting in his glorious victory after only six verses.

“Bit too long,” Geralt offered when Jaskier was done.

“How would you know,” Jaskier grouched, cracking his fingers. “Thought you didn’t like music. Or my music, at least.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Bastard!” Jaskier yelped, throwing a pillow at Geralt’s head. “Take it back.”

“No,” Geralt grinned, easily dodging the pillow and the second one that followed.

“Take it back! Tell me my songs are the loveliest you’ve ever heard!” Jaskier insisted, clambering on top of Geralt and pinning him down by the shoulders.

Geralt deftly rolled them over, switching their positions so that Jaskier was beneath him and he had the advantage. “What are you gonna do now?”

“This,” Jaskier cried, craning his neck to lick Geralt’s hand.

Geralt didn’t react. He’d seen much, much worse. “Oh no,” he replied, deadpan. “Saliva. Disgusting. Whatever will I do.”

Jaskier slumped. “You could at least pretend I have some power over you. I deserve to win sometimes.”

“I’ll let you win when you earn it,” Geralt suggested, letting Jaskier up. “That’s better than a hollow victory.”

Jaskier snatched his pillows up off the ground, dusting them off imperiously. “Just wait, Geralt of Rivia. You won’t even see it coming,” he threatened.

“I live in fear every day of when it will happen.”

“Good,” Jaskier replied, then yawned. “I’m going to bed. Songwriting takes it right out of me.”

Geralt wished him a good night, not quite ready to go to bed himself just yet. He meditated to the sounds of Jaskier changing out of his doublet and trousers into sleep clothes and bedding down for the night, softening into his quiet snores.

Without meaning to, Geralt was soon lulled to sleep himself, still thinking about the quarry and its mishaps.

Jaskier claimed to be feeling much better in the morning, especially after applying some of Geralt’s salve and rewrapping his ankle.

Geralt wasn’t able to convince him to stay at the inn, despite his best efforts, and so Jaskier rode Roach back to the quarry while Geralt led the old nag. The heat had broken somewhat, and it was a pleasant morning for a walk.

Before they even reached the quarry, however, they were met with a man coming the opposite direction. When he saw them he stopped and waited for them to catch up. As they drew closer Geralt realized it was one of the men from the mines, a younger one—Tomas, he remembered.

“Good thing you’re here, witcher. I was sent to find you,” Tomas said, motioning for them to continue back to the quarry with him.

Somehow Geralt knew this was about more than simply his pay. “What happened?” he growled, spurring Roach into a faster walk.

“Ronan went missing last night. All his things are still here, but there’s no sign of him.”

“You checked inside the mine?”

The miner shook his head. “Folk’re too scared. There’s talk—accusations that you missed one yesterday.”

“I didn’t,” Geralt said stubbornly. He was sure of it, and even if he had, the nest was still destroyed. “Sure he didn’t just run off?”

“Ronan wouldn’t. He’s kept this job for ten years, almost. Longer ‘n I’ve been around, for sure. I can’t see why he’d give it up, especially without telling anyone.”

Ever eager to save Geralt’s reputation where he could, Jaskier leapt in. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for all of it! And I know Geralt. He won’t stop until he gets to the bottom of it. Like a dog with a bone, that one. Or more of a wolf, really,” he cracked, winking. “In fact, you can tell your foreman that we won’t be accepting any form of payment until this is solved.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt warned, as neutrally as he dared.

“Yes?” Jaskier blinked innocently at him.

Geralt sighed. “Take Roach and go back to the inn.” When Jaskier looked as if he were going to argue, Geralt cut him off. “I don’t want her anywhere near this.” Or you, he didn’t add, because Jaskier would get into a snit about Geralt patronizing him. “You want to help? This will help.”

Jaskier huffed, but dismounted and swapped horses with Geralt. “This won’t work every time, I hope you know,” he warned, slinging his lute onto his back. “I’m only agreeing to this because I’ve already gotten a song out of it.”

“Duly noted.” Geralt slapped Roach’s hind flank, sending her back down the road the way they’d come. He hoped the pit in his stomach that formed at seeing them go meant nothing.

He turned to the miner. “Show me where Ronan was last seen.”

Ronan bunked with his mining partner of six years, Marik, underneath a sturdy tarp against the western wall of the quarry. The men’s belongings were scattered in the manner of one without a permanent home but with too many possessions to keep tidy.

Tools in need of repair rested atop a barrel littered with candle stubs that sat between the two paillasses. Marik, it seemed, had a habit of whittling, judging by the small wood shavings that littered the corners and the row of small figurines that were displayed proudly on a small table to the side. Ronan’s side of the tent looked as if he’d just stepped out for a moment—blankets crumpled, a pair of dirty boots slumped beside the entrance.

“Marik would have seen him last,” Tomas volunteered. “I think he’s working on the south wall today—I can get him, if you like.”

“Please,” Geralt requested. There were very few clues here as to where Ronan could have gone. For all intents and purposes, it looked like he’d simply stepped out to piss in the middle of the night and never come back.

Tomas ran off. Geralt examined the dirt in front of the tent, keen witcher eyes searching for tracks that might tell him where the occupants had gone—but the quarry was a well-trafficked area, and the soil was too sandy and fine to hold tracks for long.

Tomas returned shortly with a red-haired man behind him, wiping sweat off his brow as he ducked under the tarp. “Master Witcher,” Marik greeted, dropping his pickaxe with a dull thud. “You can find Ronan, then? Or avenge the beastie what killed him?”

“I’ll try,” Geralt promised. “Tell me what happened last night.”

“Not much other’n usual, honestly. Went to bed ‘round when the moon was high, both of us. I dunno what time it were when I heard him get up, but it were late, I know that. Not a hint of light in the sky. I thought he were takin’ care of business, y’know, and tried to fall back asleep. But then I heard a scream—and it were no fox, no matter what they say. I know foxes, and it were no fox.”

Geralt frowned. Was it foolish to hope that he’d simply been dreaming? Or that Ronan had misstepped in the dark, twisted his ankle, and was waiting to be found somewhere unharmed?

“Did you see anything? Go looking for Ronan?”

Marik hung his head, skin coloring pink. “No,” he admitted, “too scared, I was. Thought it might come and get me if I moved.”

“It’s alright,” Geralt said awkwardly. “Can’t blame you.”

“I should’ve,” Marik moaned, and to Geralt’s horror, started to weep. Tomas pulled him close, guiding his head onto his shoulder. “I should’ve gone after him. He were my partner,” Marik sobbed.

Geralt gave them privacy and exited the tent, heading towards the tunnels. He cursed himself for not preparing more potions—he hadn’t expected another fight so soon, but any witcher worth his medallion should have been more prepared. He would have to make do with his swords.

Inside the mine there was no evidence of recent alghoul activity. No fresh claw marks, no pungent scent of rot, no picked-clean bones. The nest still lay destroyed, nothing more than burnt ashes. He nosed around the site for a few more minutes before giving up. Whatever had taken Ronan wasn’t around right now.

He hiked back out into sunlight, where he found Eryk waiting for him. The foreman wore a grimace and held a pouch in his hands, bulging with coin. Geralt’s eyes narrowed.

“Witcher,” he greeted wearily. “More ghouls, then?” He shifted on his feet, coin purse clinking.

“Don’t see any necrophage activity. Nest’s still destroyed.”

“I can’t rightly pay two hundred and fifty crowns for a job not done.”

“Nor would I ask you to. How about half now—I need to restock on potion ingredients, pay for another night at the inn for me and my companion. I’ll see the job done, find whatever took Ronan, I swear by my guild.”

“You’re an honorable man, witcher. Here.” He measured out half the promised pay for Geralt, pocketing the other half. “Will ye stay tonight? We could use a watchman. And maybe yer eyes would catch things in the dark we can’t see.”

“Let me go back to town and prepare. I’ll be back by sundown,” Geralt agreed. He had already been planning to keep watch overnight, hoping his presence would prevent another man vanishing.

“Aye,” Eryk said, and left. His head was bowed, heavy with the weight of the situation. Geralt wished he could do more.

After leaving the quarry, he headed back to town, to the marketplace. He bought some more common herbs and ingredients there, counting out a good amount of Eryk’s coin. It was enough to make several elixirs, as long as he supplemented it with a few things from his own stores.

As he left the market, a sweet smell caught his nose, and he followed it to a squat building with a sign labeled BERELDA’S BREADS. A bakery.

Geralt hesitated, weighing the coin purse in his hand for a moment. “You know, a life lived without a little selfishness here and then is hardly a life worth living at all.” Jaskier’s words echoed in his head.

He ended up buying two sweet rolls, and a pouch of a half-dozen balls of fried dough when Berelda offered them at a discount, given it was so late in the day. “I’ll only throw them out tomorrow, better you have them,” she reasoned. He popped one in his mouth on his way back to the inn, savoring the way the sugar melted on his tongue and flooded his mouth with sweetness.

He wasn’t sure what had him in such a good mood—perhaps the fine weather, and the promise of a good mystery to mull over? Either way, it was dashed as soon as he got back to their shared room. He’d been—anticipating Jaskier’s reaction, almost eager to face both his endless questions about what he’d missed and his joy at being gifted a treat. And maybe a little bit of vindication, too, see, bard, I do know how to enjoy myself.

But when he pushed open the door and saw only Jaskier’s unmoving form tucked into bed, his stomach sank to the floor. No overexcited reaction to be found here.

Moreover, it was still light out—barely suppertime, by his reckoning. And the bard wasn’t usually one for naps.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, walking over to the bed and gently shaking his shoulder. His body jostled limply with the movement. Was he—? No, he was still breathing, just deeply asleep. Geralt checked, just to make sure. “Jaskier,” he called again, a little bit louder, and this time Jaskier groaned and buried his head into his pillow.

“What?” he asked, muffled by cloth.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“No,” he answered, and Geralt’s heart skipped a beat. “I was just woken rather rudely. What time ‘s it?” Oh. Just dramatic, as always.

“A couple hours to sundown. Why were you napping?”

“Dunno, I was just tired,” Jaskier answered irritably, finally rolling over and rubbing at his eyes. He looked decidedly rumpled, with sheet prints all up and down his face and neck and his hair rather unflatteringly sticking out on one side. And his eyes had dark circles under them, when Geralt looked. “Will you let me sleep in peace now?”

“Have you eaten?” Geralt persisted. He suddenly felt foolish—he wasn’t some stupid idiot courting a lover, bringing home sweets in hopes of wooing his beloved. Witchers didn’t do things like that. “I bought bread,” he said lamely.

Jaskier didn’t answer, and instead threw an arm over his face. Fine. If he wanted to go without eating, Geralt would let him wake in the middle of the night starving. He was grown and could make his own decisions. Even if those decisions pointed to something more worrying than simply a cranky companion.

“I’m going back to the quarry tonight,” Geralt informed him, sitting down at the table with his potion ingredients. Silence followed. “You shouldn’t come.”

Still no answer. Either he was already asleep again, or he was ignoring Geralt. Whatever. Geralt set to brewing a few doses of Swallow, a healthy amount of Cat, and while those were simmering, he distilled some blade oils.

He fell into a light meditation until sundown, when he would return to the quarry. But when he opened his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of Jaskier, out of bed now, standing in front of the window looking out.

“Stop walking on that ankle,” Geralt growled, fed up with the bard’s behavior.

He expected a reply of but the setting sun is so beautiful, such an alluring sight for a poet such as myself! or something equally inane, but Jaskier didn’t reply.

“The silent treatment? Really?” Geralt asked, standing up with the intent to make Jaskier sit down. But when he got closer, he realized that the bard wasn’t truly awake, his eyes half-lidded and unseeing. He swayed gently where he stood, uncaring of his swollen ankle or the cool breeze that skimmed along his collarbone and ruffled his hair.

Jaskier didn’t nap, nor did he sleepwalk, not in the five years Geralt had traveled with him. Something was very wrong. Geralt seized him by the shoulders. “Jaskier, wake up!” he almost shouted. Urgency curdled deep in his stomach.

Jaskier blinked slowly, once, twice, and then his eyes began to gain a little more life. “Hmm? Geralt?” he asked, coming fully awake. “Oh, fuck,” he cursed, and stumbled into Geralt, his ankle making its displeasure known.

Geralt caught him beneath the elbows, supporting his weight with ease. “Sit down,” he ordered, lowering Jaskier back onto the bed and kneeling in front of him.

“Was I… asleep?” Jaskier asked, having to clear his throat a couple times to get the grogginess out of his voice.

“You tell me,” Geralt replied, lifting Jaskier’s foot to check on his ankle. The bandage was loose, a swollen swath of black and blue peeking up around the edges. “Unless you thought this”—he held up Jaskier’s foot higher so he could see—“was a good idea?”

He winced. “Ow. No, I was dreaming…” he trailed off. His eyes were distant, unseeing. He sucked in a sudden breath as Geralt pressed too hard on a tender spot.

“Have you been applying your salve?”

“This morning, yes. Probably could do with another application.” He reached over to the table by the bedside, grabbing the tin of salve. He held still as Geralt unwound the bandage and spread some of the thick grease over the swollen area, finishing by redoing the bandage tightly. “Thank you. I honestly don’t know what came over me.”

“Dreaming of running from jealous spouses?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier huffed out a small laugh. “No, I don’t remember. It was dark, I think? It’s sort of fuzzy. I don’t really remember.”

Geralt wished he hadn’t promised to spend the night watching over the quarry. Someone should be here at the inn to make sure Jaskier didn’t go diving headfirst through any open windows while asleep.

“You know, I might go play. I’m feeling much better after that nap,” Jaskier proclaimed, as if he could read Geralt’s mind. “Oh, don’t give me that look. No dancing on tabletops for me. I’ll stay put in my seat, don’t worry.”

Geralt still doubted Jaskier’s ability to give a lowkey performance, but it wasn’t as if he could forbid the bard from playing. “Alright. I’m headed back to the quarry to keep watch overnight.”

“I hope that includes a significant increase in pay due to overtime. Oh, who am I kidding, you probably offered to do it for free. I know how you get with contracts like these.”

Geralt sighed. “I’ll be back in the morning. Lock the door and window tonight in case you get up again.”

“Yes, mother,” Jaskier sighed. “Now help me up?”

***

link to chapter 2 will be added here soon!

#the witcher #geraskier #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier #my fic

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miscelunaaa · 2 years

Text

whispers in the dark | jhs

pairing: sleep paralysis demon hoseok x gender neutral reader (platonic)

genre: … fluff?? Angst. Post-break up au. Supernatural au.

summary: Hoseok just doesn’t have it in him to make you even more miserable right now, so he tries something a little different.

rating: 18+ because I do what I want

word count: 1.4k

warnings: Swearing. Sleep paralysis. Creepy sleep paralysis demon Hoseok a la the “More” concept photos. Watching people while they’re sleep but not in an erotic way lol. Referenced Jimin x reader; technically a post break-up situation. Some image self-consciousness from Hoseok. Platonic spooning. Lots of talk about feeling or sensing smells and emotions. I know it seems creepy but really this is very soft, I promise.

notes: Ah wow, this is short but there’s so much in here. It started in a group chat with “idk what to do with more hoseok in the best way” and then it turned into me and @bangtanintotheroom taking “this hobi is our sleep paralysis demon” and running with it in two wildly different directions sldkjfhaslkdj. I know I’m supposed to be on break but like after finishing stuff last month, I had this whole “will I ever write again” crisis. Without @thatlongspringnight and @xjoonchildx this wouldn’t be here, and I wouldn’t feel ten million times better now than I did leading up to my meltdown. So, thank you. It means the world to me. I’m just going to yeet this into the void and get out but I miss yall!! Hope you’re having a nice July, wherever you may be :)

my masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3

Hoseok hasn’t gotten the chance to stretch like this in ages. As he steps across the lush carpet, he lets his muscles lengthen and move. It’s dusty and cramped in his little crawlspace, even with his cleaning regime. When was the last time you let him out his literal hellhole?

He looks at your sleeping form. You’re passed out, that’s for sure, huddled beneath layers of sheets and blankets. The dawn is beginning to trickle through your curtains, your eyelids freely fluttering in deep sleep, unencumbered by the sleep mask that’s somehow slipped off during the night.

He can feel how frozen you are, how you want to turn over to a more comfortable position but can’t. Ah, it’s been so long since he could feed freely like this. What a wonderful welcome you’ve decided to give him.

Hoseok straightens and adjusts his cap as he glances around the room. It doesn’t seem that much has changed since he was last here. There’s a calendar propped up on your dresser, and he’s surprised to see that it’s been at least a year since he was last freed from the confines of your mind. He’d stopped visiting you shortly after you started keeping that punk around … what was his name? Jim? Tim?? Something like that. It’s not easy haunting folks who co-sleep with others. Finally he’s gone, and Hoseok can resume doing what he does best. Finally he can just lurk and get the energy he needs after his long sequestering.

Stepping closer, Hoseok leans down to leer at your face. You can’t see him, not really, not in a way that matters. But you can feel him, and he can hear your breath quicken as he draws near. His veins sigh in content as the anxiety leeches from your body into his own. It feels sweet and soft against his senses. You always did taste better than his previous charges.

If you’d kept him inside much longer, he was going to have to find someone else to feed from. So thank god Timbourine or whatever isn’t here today. He reaches out and brushes the sheets from your face so that he can see more than just your eyes.

Huh. That’s odd.

Your cheeks are grimy.

Hoseok, dead inside as he might be, feels his black hole of a heart fall. Fuck.

Had you cried yourself to sleep?

Hoseok stands and steps away, casting his eyes about the room. It still smells like Jimothy or whatever, just barely. You might smell sweet on your own, but there’s a musty spice that undergirds everything. It doesn’t smell like you, and it’s like it’s faded. You probably don’t even smell it anymore, but that doesn’t mean you don’t somehow feel it.

There’s a box in the corner that smells stronger than the rest of your room. It’s got clothes in it that don’t look like you’d be caught dead wearing them. And there’s a picture frame laying flat on its face right next to your calendar. He feels like an idiot for not noticing it sooner.

“Aw, darling, did that dickwad break your heart?” he murmurs. His heart goes out to you. He doesn’t really much do desire himself but he imagines that the emotions are torrid and stressful. “That’s so unfair, isn’t it?”

It doesn’t seem right to feed off you now, for some reason. The succulent taste of stress he’d been taking from you now feels bitter. It tastes off, spoiled even. Was he really gone so long that he developed a conscience? This is garbage. This is not a part of the plan at all.

Hoseok sighs as he sits next to your sleeping form. You don’t move.

“What am I going to do with you, darling? You kept me tucked away for so long and now I can’t even take what I need.”

You don’t reply, of course. You can’t. You’re frozen in place, paralyzed and dead to the world. Awake and yet not, all at once. Hoseok has craved being able to take what he wants from you for ages, but now it just feels unfair.

The demon sighs again, noticing now all the things he’d not noticed before in his eagerness to feed. You’ve got pillows tucked behind you, as if to simulate a person at your back. One of them is even wrapped in a shirt. Ah, how sad. There’s other mementos about the room too: a sock in the corner, discarded undergarments next to the laundry hamper, all sorts of small things that have that unfamiliar scent wreathed around them. Even when he doesn’t think there’s more, there’s always more. He can’t imagine how you must feel, having all this crap around that belongs to someone no longer in your life. The agony of finding still more at every turn must be torture.

He finds himself pitying you. It’s strange. He knows it is. He’s a demon, a thought form, a parasite even; nothing more or less. He shouldn’t have any feelings not placed within him that didn’t come from his host.

Is that what this is, then? Is this you looking for comfort?

Hoseok’s not sure how he feels about this. He’s never heard of someone manifesting comfort from their sleep paralysis demon. You’re one of hundreds of people he’s haunted. This shouldn’t be anything new even though it clearly is.

Maybe he’s just getting soft. Maybe being stuck in your mind made him soft.

He should have gotten out sooner.

Suddenly, you whimper. Hoseok about jumps out of his skin. He scrambles away from the bed, his eyes flying to see if you’ve somehow managed to rouse yourself without him noticing.

No, the paralysis holds, but only just. Your eyelids flutter, your fingertips twitch. Still, you don’t move. The emotions wafting off you shift from fear to yearning. His stomach churns and his head spins as the sensation registers. It’s even stronger than the anxiety. It’s just pure, unadulterated loneliness.

Hoseok takes a deep breath.

Damn it, you’re soft. And he’s soft for you.

He takes his cap off and runs his hand over his face, and then through his hair. He’s not much to cuddle with. As far as demons like him go, he’s kind of scrawny. To make himself look scary he has to lean on makeup and piercings and clothing. There’s only so much a glamour can do to make him look intimidating. And none of it’s easy to shed so … maybe if he just spoons you from behind you won’t notice how wimpy he actually looks?

Your breathing has picked up again, and you whine into the cool air of the bedroom. How are you doing that? Hoseok puts the question out of his mind as he toes off his shoes.

“Okay, fine, I’ll give you want, but just this once. Just because I missed you or whatever.”

He rounds the bed and carefully crawls on top of the sheets on the side opposite you. He tosses the pillows away, even the one wrapped in Jimbert or whatever’s shirt, so that he can come up behind you. He fits his body behind yours, the warmth of your body seeping like a warm tide into his clothes and his flesh.

He trembles. It’s been a while since he was this close with anyone. He’s a big spoon anyway, this is fine, but fuck, it’s kind of weird too.

After a few moments, he reaches around your middle and pulls you closer. Might as well really lean into this shit if he’s going to do it in the first place. Thank whatever that this is a solitary job. He’d never hear the end of it if one of his colleagues saw him comforting his hauntee like this.

For a moment, Hoseok wonders if this is doing anything for you at all. After a few minutes, however, your breathing slows, and you move of your own accord.

You nestle.

You nestle back into Hoseok’s chest. As if this shit is natural. As if it’s exactly what you needed. Your hand finds his, and squeezes it.

His heart drops.

This is more than he anticipated. And he’s horrified to realize that he kind of likes it.

The fear is gone from you, and so is the longing; the loneliness that was clouding your heart has been burned away like mist by the sun. Hoseok breathes in the scent of your skin at the nape of your neck. Sweet. Content. Strong.

Hoseok bites his lip.

Just a few more minutes like this. And then maybe he’ll leave. Can’t let himself get used to this. And you can’t get used to it either. He’ll let you have this moment together. Tomorrow morning he’ll get back to doing his actual job.

For now, he’ll let himself enjoy this with you for as long as he can muster.

Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work.Thank you.

posted: 7.4.2022

#btshoneyhive #btswritingcafe #hoseok fic #bts fic #hoseok x reader #hoseok x reader fic #jhs x reader #jhs x gender neutral reader #platonic fic #hoseok fan fic #j-hope fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #my tags are a mess #I mean it as soon as I'm done here I'm logging out :D

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inciting-chaos-series · 1 year

Text

The Night Shift: Chapter Three

If you'd like to be tagged when new chapters are posted let me know! -Ghostiewvlf

✦✦Update: Edited slightly :) -Ghostiewvlf

✦ The Night Shift Masterpost ✦

➢ Tag List: @valleys

➢Summary:

You work the night shift at a local dog kennel for boarding and daycare. You love the peace and quiet of the shift, but just when you get comfortable- a few break-ins happen around town, and upper management decides to place your quiet, brooding, shift lead on the schedule with you.

☽✧ Chapter Three: Musically In Tune ✧☾

-Y/N POV-

Your second class wasn't supposed to start for another fifteen minutes, but you really didn't have the energy to get out of bed. You hated that you only had one day off work, sure your job was alright, but using your other day off as the day to schedule all your classes was really not the move, because now you didn't want to attend the lectures. The text that popped up on your phone didn't help focusing much either. Why was he texting you? Did he want you to come in on your day off?

Logan 🐺:

Hows school nerd?

“Weird” You said aloud, laughing to yourself as the small adrenaline rush of having to come in dissipated.

You:

Not exactly better than work, but not worse

Logan 🐺:

I can always call you in for an ‘emergency’ haha

You:

No thanks! Lol

Next thing you knew your phone was flooding with sad cat memes about school. Your face quickly started to ache from laughing so much.

Logan 🐺:

Don’t tell the boss im memeing on company time

You:

You are my boss stupid

Logan 🐺:

Oh, yeah… guess I am ;)

It was so bizarre seeing this side of him. In just a week he had gone from this “quiet shift lead that no one really wants to talk to” to “coworker that you look forward to working with everyday” to now, acquaintances? Friends? You didn't really know. It was hard for you to draw lines between stages of friendship at work. Maybe he was just being nice to make you feel more comfortable around him?

Logan 🐺:

So… what class are you in right now?

You:

Just about to start music theory

Logan 🐺:

RIP haha

Need any help studying? I’m pretty good with music

You:

I might take you up on that actually lol

I never have time for this class so now im nearly failing

Logan 🐺:

Bring your stuff next shift and we’ll work on it :)

You:

Thank youuuu :’)

You turned the screen off on your phone and tried your best to pay attention during your lecture, but you couldn't shake the nervous energy you had built up thinking about the next shift working with him.

It didn't take long for the next workday to arrive. You had barely slept at all, staying up studying and trying to catch up in your other courses was beginning to take a toll on you. You arrived barely on time for your shift, quickly getting the usual updates from departing day staff before clocking in. You headed into the break room and set your things down before collapsing into the seat and catching your breath. You’d just barely remembered to grab your music theory notes and homework, collecting them in a rush and making you run just enough behind that you’d be late if you picked up food for the shift. At least you would be able to get some help from Logan tonight though and hopefully your next exam would go over better than the last.

The day shift quickly finished up and clocked out. Logan seemed to be running a bit late, so once everyone else had clocked out and left you began the duties of the night. You were on your second rotation of letting dogs out when you heard his car pull up, so you didn't turn to look when you heard the backdoor open and a few more dogs run out. You continued playing with one of the more shy dogs that was boarding for the night and watched to make sure everyone was getting along.

“Hey there.” You felt a warm hand on your back, a sharp contrast with the bite in the cold fall air. You tried to ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach acting up.

“Oh hey!” a slightly-too-loud laugh falling from your lips.

“I stopped at Starbucks and got us some coffee.” An uneven smile painted his face, making him look almost comical with his cold bitten nose and pale skin, along with those signature dark circles under his eyes.

“Oh wow, thank you! I was running late and wasn't able to stop for anything today.” You smiled and accepted the warm cup and took an eager sip, grateful to have some caffeine for the night.

“Oh huh, perfect timing I guess? You're welcome.” He chuckled and offered a smile just as warm as the cup in your hands. “I can order some food or snacks later too.” He took a sip of his own cup and huffed, his breath forming a small cloud in front of him due to the freezing temperature. As much as you despised the cold and how it made your already poor circulation in your hands feel like pins and needles, you did really love the aesthetics of it: the clouds of breath, the way it made faces redden, the smell that was draped across everything the night before a big thunderstorm or heavy snowfall, the oversized hoodies and layered outfits that everyone seemed buried in, big boots with chunky socks- it was all very comforting in a way, it seemed to round out the edges in a very sharp world.

The night went by much the same as it began. There was a very comforting feeling about the weather and the mood that you were both in, even the dogs seemed very subdued. Time seemed to go by a bit slower, which you happily welcomed after weeks of vigorous study.

Though time seemed to be lulling along peacefully, you got your nightly duties done in record time. You blamed the unusually well behaved dogs. It wasn't long before you were both sitting at the front desk again, joking around and playing some light music. He hesitantly showed you a few of his favorite bands. You assumed his apprehension was from fear of judgment. Lucky for him, you both enjoyed darker, more melancholy music.

You both listened to his Spotify playlist while he helped you on your coursework. You bopped along to several songs you recognized as he read through your work. BONES, Xavier Wulf, and several other artists played softly through the speakers.

“Mm, yeah not this one…” You sheepishly laughed as you clicked skip on Cholesterol, not needing to feel too melancholic tonight. He merely chuckled and nodded with firm agreement. You were surprised by his knowledge about music, he helped you get through the entirety of your homework, as well as explained a bunch of the questions you’d missed on the last exam you brought with you.

“How do you know all this? I feel like you know more than my professor honestly…” You laughed as you finished up the last question and shut your notebook. He’d managed to explain everything all in a way that was actually making sense to you. He’d even related back to songs that played out softly on the speakers and used them as examples to the concepts.

“I sincerely fucking doubt that…” He chuckled tiredly. “I just- know music I guess… I spend a lot of time with and around it, I uh- I’ve even made a couple songs myself…” You smiled as you caught the red tint on his heated cheeks.

“Wait really?” You gave him a surprised look.

“Yeah, I don’t know if they're any good, but I like making them.” He shrugged and passed you the keyboard and mouse to play music.

“Can I hear one?” You pried, making him slump into his chair further and groan softly.

“Ahh I don’t know, y/n…” He huffed and rolled his eyes playfully. “I haven't really shown anyone, but I guess if you promise to not make fun of me…” he turned slightly and narrowed his eyes at you, “...or tell anyone here- maybe I’ll bring my computer next time or something…”

“Hmm, we’ll see…” You squinted back, jokingly challenging him before laughing.

“I’ll write you up I swear to god y/n…” He joked back, laughing along with you.

“OoOkay boss man…”

➢ Links:

✦ Fics Masterlist ✦ The Night Shift Masterpost ✦ ✦ AO3 ✦ Wattpad ✦ Art ✦ ✦ Requests Masterpost & Guidelines ✦ Request Trope List ✦ 。:゜:.*∵✧∵ ☽ Submit A Request ☾∵✧∵*:.゜: 。

#The Night Shift #TNS #corpse husband #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x y/n #romance #slow burn #coworkers to lovers #fanfiction #fanfic #mutual pining #fluff #angst #Ghostie Howls #J Writes

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albatmobile · 10 months

Text

and even when the sky falls, I’ll be there pt. 3

[1] [2] [3] next: [4] || ao3

𓅪 Rated: M | 3.1k includes: angst, fluff

𓅪 established fem!reader x jason todd, fem!reader x roy harper, eventual fem!reader x Jason Todd x roy harper

The earthquakes start that same night, taking down entire cities as unstable energy from Earth’s core is released into the mantle.

Time is never guaranteed, you know this, but you still can’t help but wish for just a bit more of it.

“Flash has been in the speed force since this morning.” Roy hesitantly tells you, not sure if you’re in a state to hear it, but the fate of the world was hanging in the balance. He needs you to come back to him. He needs you to be present.

There’s no more time for you to wallow in your zombie-like state.

Batman’s called an impromptu meeting and you don Catwoman’s leather bodysuit for the last time. Roy, the kind man he is, had washed it at some point, so it’s no longer stained with your lover’s blood, though the fibers still carry it deep in their threads. In this way, it’s a deep-set, stubborn stain and a morbid reminder that death doesn’t leave so easily.

“You know, you wear it better than she ever did.” You snort lightly, knowing he’s just trying to get your mind off of what happened last time you’d worn it. “Sorry,” He sighs. “I’ve, uh, never been too good at goodbyes- not that this will be one, though!” He hastily adds at your quirked brow.

“It’s been a crazy ride. No matter what happens, I’m glad we had these few weeks together.” His eyes twinkle, sending your stomach into a frenzy of butterflies. “It’s been… a gift.”

If there was any way to say fuck-all and stay with him in this safe haven, you’d take it in a heartbeat. Anything to stay with him for just a moment longer without the fate of the world weighing down on you like a thick smog.

“It has.” You nod, taking his hands into your own. “But it’s not over yet, remember?”

That’s exactly what he’d told you during the last battle. After all the support he’s given you, now it’s your chance to return the favor.

“Of course,” He sighs. “Even if it is us just waiting around to see if we die or not.”

You snort lightly, “Yep. At least we’ll be the first ones to know.” He winces slightly, causing you to pout. “I was just joking.”

“It’s the truth, though. We’re all relying on that replacement core, but what if it doesn’t draw enough energy to replace what Apokolips has already destroyed of it? What if, no matter what, we’re fucked?” He rubs at the crease in between his brows. “We can’t ignore the fact that Superman doesn’t have the composition to get anywhere close to the heat that surrounds it anyway. It’s like the more I think about this plan, the more holes I find in it. It’s essentially all relying on this damn suit.”

Whatever remains of your heart breaks. You’ve never seen Roy so disheartened.

Batman, alongside Superman, has created a replacement energy core using an energy-secured capsule that can hold Captain Atom. Superman will then get into a specialized suit that will, hopefully, allow him to withstand the environment and radiation surrounding the Earth’s core. Batman only had time to create one suit and the fate of the world is relying on Superman alone to get the replacement core into place.

You just hope it’ll be enough.

It’s a plan with many flaws, as Roy’d pointed out, which does nothing to calm your nerves, but you’re determined to remain as upbeat as you can. Even though it might be your last hour on Earth, at least you’re here with Roy.

Flash is set to return from The Speed Force, but the big leagues aren’t waiting around to see if it’s going to work. Rather, Superman and Batman are busy bustling around your new base of operations in Happy Harbor. They’re hoping to use the volcano at Mount Justice to more easily infiltrate down to the Earth’s core.

Heat-resistant drones were inserted into the volcano’s branch vents and have been digging down through lava chambers and through to the mantle. At this point, they haven’t stopped digging since they started, which was a week after you’d lost Jason. Even in this short time, the few remaining drones are nearing the outer core and are set to shut down a few miles short of breaching it.

When you actually get to the main scene, Captain Atom is already fully integrated into the replacement core with Batman helping Superman suit up.

You watch as Batman points out certain switches and buttons as he straps the man of steel into, well, a prison of steel. The bulky suit seems to be the base of the suit Batman had used to fight Superman all those years ago and the irony doesn’t seem to be lost on either of them.

It’s not exactly the same, though. Batman’s been tinkering away at the suit ever since he’d finished the drones, modding it specifically for the obstacles of the mission. The most significant change is the addition of nth metal, compliments of Hawkgirl and the Thanagarians, to the already titanium exterior in hopes that it’ll be enough to withstand the extreme heat.

Then it’s time.

Batman nods once, but Superman seems to understand after years of knowing the man of such few words.

Everyone’s gathered on the platform stationed at the mouth of the volcano, but Roy tugs you away.

It’s hot as fuck up there, so you don’t complain when he leads you down to the beach below. There are a few stragglers hanging around in the vicinity of the dirty, soot-covered sand the two of you plop down in, but they’re far enough away that they can’t hear you.

“It could work.” You say though you can hear the dregs of doubt that litter your words. “It, at least, seems more solid than what I’d originally thought coming in here.” You school your voice better this time and Roy has the decency to nod, if only to quell a tiny bit of your anxiety.

The sand you’d scooped up streams through the cracks in your fingers into little piles in front of you and Roy. It reminds you of an hourglass and the heavy feeling in your stomach that follows stops you in your tracks. Your soot-dirtied palm stills midway from picking up another handful of sand.

You already know your fate is just around the corner and you will come face to face with it in mere minutes.

You are not afraid.

Scratch that-.

The Earth rumbles out another, albeit marginally smaller, earthquake that has enough force to Roy cover you with his body.

When the shaking subsides, Roy’s arms still remain around you. You relax into his hold but nudge his head with yours until he finally shifts back enough to come face-to-face with you.

“I…” He huffs and his eyes crinkle slightly in the process out of aggravation, “I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

“So you keep telling me,” You tease through the steady forming tears in your eyes.

He wipes your tears away before they can even spill, “Please don’t cry, gorgeous.”

“Sorry,” You apologize with a tiny laugh.

His touch on your cheeks lingers until he gently caresses your cheek, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You nod, “I…”

I love you.

“I know.” His eyes search yours earnestly, “I want forever with you too.”

Your happy laughter bubbles into tears when the weight of the situation settles on you again. Roy has a habit of taking you out of your worrying, but it doesn’t mean he can completely prevent it. At least not forever.

You can’t help it, but you break down. Roy’s right there to keep you together.

Moments pass, looking into each other’s eyes. You don’t know how long it’ll take, but you try not to think about it and fight your racing thoughts to remain in the moment.

It feels like hours and nothing at all as Roy holds you close, hands sifting through your hair like it’s the only thing keeping him present. Waiting is a constant debilitating, internally wrought, sickly dread that consumes every sense with tar-like tentacles. With so much riding on this one plan, it’s hard not to let the worry consume you while the seconds heavily tick by.

Screams.

Roy releases you momentarily to search around.

The others on the beach come closer to ask if you know what the screaming’s about, but you hardly know anything that’s going on.

“Did it work?” You ask, but it seems like everyone’s just as confused as you are.

Heads turn as everyone looks around for answers but find none.

There’s a huge rumble that’s grand enough to send boulders tumbling down to the beach. The loudest thunder you’ve ever heard in your life crashes against your eardrums, washing directly over Roy’s rampant concerns.

“That one side of the mountain is going to cave in.” He repeats again, shaking you to gain your attention.

He doesn’t need to say anymore for you to realize what it means.

It didn’t work…

Why isn’t it working???

Wonder Woman drops off Batman and the other League members onto the sand while rocks on the other side continue to tumble. Everyone from retired superheroes to mutant kids who look fresh out of elementary school scatter around frantically, looking for some kind of direction, some kind of plan B but there’s nothing of the sort.

The Amazon flies back up one last time to grab the last remaining member from the platform.

“Superman’s vital signs cut off,” Batman states gravely once his feet hit the unsteady ground.

“What are we going to do?” Wonder Woman trails off, looking around for an answer, but there’s none to find. “Is there anything we can do?” Her voice grows increasingly worried, which does nothing to quell the sinking feeling settling uncomfortably in your stomach.

The rumbling only continues to intensify.

Batman’s silence is deafening.

You’re fucked. You’re all fucked.

After all this bullshit, after all this fucking planning and you’re still fucked.

Roy seems to understand this at the same time you do because he focuses his attention on soothing you, “I’ve got you, baby. I’m right here.”

He looks awkwardly toward Batman for some reason, but you can’t dwell on it long. Hell, you can hardly question it when you only have mere moments left with him.

You waste no time in capturing his lips with your own before he can say some dumb shit like, ‘It’ll be okay.’

You don’t care about the stragglers on the beach, it’s your last fucking moments alive and all be damned if you aren’t going to get some sort of fucking action.

You forcibly push Roy backward, laughing when he lets out a shocked, not to mention disappointed, grunt when his ass hits the ground. He doesn’t have time to question the action before you’re climbing into his lap and guiding the rest of his body down to the dirty sand below.

You take a moment to appreciate his mundane beauty that seems nearly ethereal to you in your last moments. How the clouded sky does nothing to dull his radiant, effervescent charm. Your fingers trickle through his soft hair as the fiery strands tangle with the particles and scattered shells that litter the beach below.

It’s hard to close your eyes because you want to revel in Roy’s beauty forever, but, nonetheless, they slide closed as his mouth moves slowly and tenderly against yours. It’s the last thing you’ll ever do and you know it, so you breathe your remaining life into the kiss until Roy’s responding just as desperately.

His hands shamelessly move from the small of your waist to the globes of your leather-clad ass with a wanton moan. You find yourself inadvertently bucking into him when you hear a cacophony of screaming.

“YOU HAVE TO GO BACK!” Wonder Woman’s yelling from somewhere close beside you, “GO BACK AND STOP THIS!”

You gasp, trying to pull away, but he pulls you right back in to prevent you from seeing whatever horrors were descending. Tears trail from your cheeks to splatter across his freckled ones as you force yourself to focus on his tender touch.

“GO BACK!” More desperate pleas join in.

The screams only continue to get louder and, this time, Roy finally pulls away.

A burst of red and yellow comes into focus and stops right in front of your tangled pile of limbs.

Flash.

“Uh,” He scratches at the back of his head, looking around confused. “I don’t think that worked.” He puts his hands on his hips as he faces Roy and you again. “The world is still ending and shit, right?”

Roy nods, unable to formulate a further response.

Wonder Woman and Batman sidle up to the group. Her panic is palpable enough that Flash backs up when she reaches him.

Her strong arms grip Flash by the shoulders, “It didn’t work. None of it worked.”

“You need to go back and stop this all from ever happening, Barry.”

Barry?

Panic sets in as her words settle over you.

You pull away from Roy’s bruised lips realizing you aren’t ready to give this all up. You don’t want to remove what happened between the two of you from existence.

You can’t.

One look down at him proves he’s already thinking the same.

“You can’t!” You say helplessly before you can even realize the words have escaped.

Both of them turn their attention to your precarious position with confusion written all over their faces.

Flash looks down at the two of you, still in each other's arms, with obvious hesitation, “Aren’t you, er, weren’t you with Red Hood?”

You hope the glare you give him is enough to kill. Well, maybe not actually because he’s essentially your last hope, but still, the sentiment remains.

What confuses you even more is Flash also looks awkwardly at Batman as he addresses your new relationship. Batman, though, seems more preoccupied with saving a group of remaining League Members from debris coming from the collapsing mountain.

“Seriously?” Roy sighs, finally releasing his hands from your ass to help you stand on the shaky ground.

“What?” He at least has the decency to look somewhat abashed.

“Barry, I’m like 50% of the reason she’s even still breathing right now. It killed me to see someone I cared about, to see her, like that.” Roy shook his head. “I wanted to help however I could. For Hood’s sake and hers. And, y’know, maybe selfishly my own too.” He looks down in shame, but you’re right there with a comforting squeeze on his bicep.

At this Flash’s, well, Barry’s face falls. Even Wonder Woman looks at you with that same pitying look you’ve resented all these weeks.

“Don’t worry,” He tries to calm the lot of you, though his confidence, or lack thereof, leaves something to be desired. “I’m going to fix this. I’m going to fix everything. I know what I need to do.”

It does just the opposite.

“You see,” You sigh, looking at Roy from the corner of your eyes, “There’s a slight problem with that.”

Wonder Woman glares at Flash, “We’re running out of time. There are no more ‘slight problems,’ only the main, big one.” She motions aggressively to where Batman stands solemnly overlooking the remnants of his failed plan.

He makes to run off, but you can’t let this be it.

You won’t allow it.

It’s a knee-jerk reaction, one you don’t even realize you’ve made until his red costume is firmly clenched in your grip.

“Wait!” You grab his shoulder forcefully, all while scanning around the area desperately, “Who has paper?”

You look to the ground, noticing all the loose paperwork that litters the ground and waste no time gathering it up.

You see The League’s crest at the top of the page and assume this will be enough to convince Jason that, yes, this is real. You don’t have any time left to search for a pen and realize there’s only one way you’ll be able to write anything. If anything, again, it’ll only cement to Jason that, yes, this is actually you writing this to him.

Wasting no more time, you remove Catwoman’s mask from your head.

You rip one of Roy’s arrows from his quiver and cut a long, shallow line right above your eyebrow, using the excessive spillage as ink with your finger as the quill. As savage as the spot you picked sounds, it’s actually a lot less painful and more bountiful than cutting anywhere else. Anywhere else, like your finger, wouldn’t have produced nearly enough to write what you need to say with such little time remaining.

This doesn’t stop the Flash and Roy from staring at you in absolute horror as the entire right side of your face is coated in a curtain of crimson.

“Babe, what the fuck?” Roy’s worried eyes bear into yours. His voice is slightly guarded as he rips the arrow out of your hand, wincing at the blood that drips from it as he does.

“What?” You look up from the beginnings of your crude writing, “We’re all about to die in this timeline regardless.” You shake your head like it’s the most obvious thing in this ending world. “I need myself to know that you took care of me.” You look up shyly, “That you love me.” You hold back your tears for the league member’s sake and continue writing.

When you’re done, you hand him the wet paper with your clean hand. Flash stays for a brief moment more, watching as your attention settles fully on the redheaded man next to you.

Roy wastes no time in gathering you in his arms, drawing you into a chaste kiss with his chapped lips, causing your heart to swell at the bittersweet situation. The kiss quickly deepens into something more passionate, like he’s draining all the life he has left into it, into you.

You look around at the remaining members as they take in their final moments, then focus back in on Roy. Your rock, your love.

“I should’ve done that when you first asked me last week.” He chuckles somewhat bitterly.

“Oh, you’re telling me?” You laugh with tears in your eyes as your lips meet again.

The world is ending.

The world is ending and you have Roy.

You pull away from his lips, opening your eyes just in time to see a white flash spawn across the expanse of the sky and consume just as fast as it’d appeared.

It’s actually over.

A/N: I'm a loser if u wanna know my calculations for how long it took superman to reach the core check out the author notes here n maybe show my ao3 a lil love lol

next chap is the last one!! (i had to split it in two bc the next scene is so long lmao)

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#reader x jason todd x roy harper #reader x roy harper #reader x jason todd #jason todd x reader #my fic: sky falls

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