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pricegouge · 5 days

Text

cw: free use, dubcon touching (reader is into it but not in a position to give consent), abrupt ending cause I've been sitting on this forever and at this point I know I'll just never finish it. unedited

Reader is a free use cleaning maid for the 141

MDNI

You falter as you step through the door and find the assembled group of soldiers staring back at you. Blushing, you apologize profusely for the intrusion and stammer something about not realizing the room was in use. (That's because they forgot to mark it as such - again -, but it's no use mentioning that when you suspect they're doing it on purpose.)

"No trouble, pet." Captain Price's smile is warm, but his tone is far too dark to be strictly friendly. "We're nearly done now anyway. C'mon in."

You bite back a frown, reminding yourself this job is not dissimilar to customer service insofar as your attitude can definitely affect your pay. So you thank him prettily and roll your cart in, hugging to the walls and trying to stay out of their line of sight. It's no use, of course, but worth a shot.

It's not that you don't like your job, necessarily, and if anyone was going to be in here, you're almost glad it's them; but sometimes you just want to get your shift over with as few interactions as possible.

Never possible with this lot, though. The sergeants are the worst, maybe. Or at least the most obnoxious. They're both too cocky, but you suppose you would be too if you looked like either of them - could fuck like either of them. MacTavish ('Call me Soap, hen') is the first to press his luck, no surprise. He keeps his eyes trained on the captain as if he's listening but his hand finds the buttons of your blouse, toys with the edge as if he has no ulterior motive. You don't correct him - can't -, but you keep on dusting as if you don't even notice.

Garrick is the next to crack, predictable. He murmurs a quiet 'C'mere, lovie,' and hooks a finger into your belt loop, maneuvering you to stand between him and his fellow sergeant. You oblige, hold your dusting rag awkwardly until Ghost (just Ghost - you were too afraid to contradict him) leans across the table to tap at the area in front of you and you get to work. It's the wrong cleaning agent for the material, but you're not about to say anything about wood right now, thank you, not with MacTavish humming appreciatively at the view of your ass he gets when you bend to do your job.

"Nice view, ey mate?" Garrick stage whispers. MacTavish hums, strokes the breadth of his palm up the back of your thigh as if he's calming livestock.

"Could just pinch her, bet she squeaks so cute."

You jump a foot when one of them tries it, despite the warning.

"Boys," Price scolds, no heat. They content themselves with petting at you for a moment anyway, stifling their schoolboy giggles.

Still, Price carries on about basic concepts you're sure they already know. You buff the same fifteen centimeters of table until you worry about the finish and wonder when they'll escalate, surprised when it's the lieutenant who gives.

You almost don't notice it at first, a subtle movement under the table which Ghost's eyes do nothing to betray. MacTavish, however, is pretty well keyed in to his superior officer. "Why don't you show Ghost your pretty tits, hen?" He pulls his chair in closer, gets his arms around you so he can undo the buttons of your blouse.

If they mind your ugly sports bra, no one says a word. Though Garrick makes quick enough work of it that you wonder. The sargents spend some minutes groping you, leaning you back against them so that you can't even pretend to be cleaning anymore. Ghost allows your lax work ethic for maybe two full minutes before catching your eye and tapping the table again - much closer to himself this time.

Garrick guides you into place, folding your torso over the table until your hands can reach the area right in front of Ghost. You balance yourself on your toes precariously and the sergeants take advantage of your raised hips by reaching down and undoing your buckle and fly. Garrick slides your pants down, lithe fingers cleverly stroking along the crease of your cheeks and thighs along the way. MacTavish mutters something about how bonnie you are again, but Price feigns annoyance at the distraction so he shuts back up, kneads at your ass instead to keep himself stimulated.

There are fingers probing at your entrance, probably Garrick's judging by how clever they are. You're not wet yet but he's undeterred, simply rests two fingers just there, at the rim of you, a vague threat, and curls them incrementally at some rhythm you can't quite keep. The movement itself is not overly sexy, but the confidence that this is enough, this is all you need, is. Especially when it turns out he's right.

It's not long before the grind of his calloused fingers glides, frictionless, and he dips himself fractionally deeper, leans forward to suppress a hum into your hip. Embarrassed and desperate for a distraction, your gaze drifts up - and up - until you meet Ghost's gaze.

"Cap'n said be quiet, pet," he rumbles, and you nearly tell him you haven't made a sound, but Gaz chooses that very moment to sink two fingers knuckle deep into you and the soft clicking noise of your arousal makes your cheeks burn.

It's hard to tell if Ghost smirks behind his mask, but MacTavish huffs a laugh loud enough for both of them when you mewl, palm slapping over your own mouth in embarrassment.

MacTavish calms when Price sighs exasperatedly, a tense stillness settling over the sergeants even as their lieutenant continues to leer.

"Ghost," the captain grumbles, tapping his pen off the desk in irrigation. "Shut her up, will you?"

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artistsfuneral · 2 years

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Crushes

"Oh my," Jaskier chuckles quietly from where he's sitting across from Geralt in one of the big chairs by the hearth. Immediately alert - because Jaskier is never quiet about anything - Geralt looks up at the bard. He follows his friend's gaze to Coen and Ciri at the other end of the great hall. They're doing nothing out of the ordinary as far as he can tell; The griffin is outwardly relaxed, listening to Ciri's enthusiastic chattering with an idle smile on his lips.

Grunting in hope of an explanation, Geralt returns his focus on Jaskier who seems to be beaming with a mix of glee and something other the witcher can't point. "It seems," Jaskier answers the unasked question with his voice hushed, "that our favorite princess is harboring a little crush."

He doesn't know what to feel as his head whips around back to his daughter and one of his closest friends. Denial at first, because surely Jaskier is wrong about this. There's no way it's true, right? Followed by the horrible possibility of Jaskier being correct about it. Geralt gulps audibly.

Judging by the way Coen suddenly looks paler than before, the griffin has very much listened in on their conversation and is now rethinking his life choices. Good, Geralt says to himself. Ciri stays blissfully unaware.

"Now, now, don't look so shocked, Papa Wolf." Said shock might be the only thing keeping Geralt from knocking Jaskier off his seat for the usage of the forbidden nickname. "It's a perfectly normal thing for a young girl to develop a crush or two. And I mean look at Coen-dear, he's quite a catch, isn't he? Tall, pretty, well-mannered and kind. I can't say I'm surprised," Jaskier goes on, either just as blissfully unaware or gracefully ignoring that Coen could hear every single whispered word.

"How can you be so sure? It's not like she ever said anything," Geralt argues in the hopes of being able to hold onto his denial. (He denies that too.) Jaskier hides a laugh, "Of course she wouldn't say anything, especially not to her Dad. It is fairly obvious though, I'm afraid. Isn't she spending more time with him than usually? She's constantly chattering him up, trying to figure out his likes, dislikes and special interests. Tries really hard to impress him during these conversations and training. Look at her, the way she's beaming every time Coen-dear smiles at her. It's adorable."

Geralt still doesn't know how to feel about all of this. The worst part of it is, that the bard is making a horrible lot of sense. Geralt - who just started to enjoy his fatherhood - is in no way prepared for this, he realizes. "But isn't he too-" old? He doesn't finish the sentence.

The bard returns his concerned look with a soft smile. "Of course, but that's completely normal too. She just realized for the first time that Coen-dear is a great man. He is incredibly talented in the same skills she wants to learn, he is kind to her and rather good-looking. It's the perfect combination for a crush." Geralt is almost afraid to hear the answer of his next question, "What do we do?" Across the hall Coen visibly straightens, mentally preparing himself to jump out of the next window. Meanwhile Jaskier looks at Geralt like he just bit into a broom. "Do? We're doing absolutely nothing. It's a crush. It'll go away in a few weeks. As long as Coen-dear doesn't do anything stupid." The last part Jaskier voices with a sharp edge, definitely addressed to the griffin. "If he simply acts like he normally does, nothing will happen and we can peacefully watch Ciri blush and stumble over herself. Geralt, my dear, I didn't tell you so you can make a battle plan. I just thought it was adorable and wanted to share that with you."

Nothing happens for a moment and then Geralt and Coen visibly deflate with relief. Across the hall, little Ciri places her hands on her hips and huffs at the griffin. "Are you even listening to me?" She asks, lips forming a royal pout that worked like magic back in Cintra. In Kaer Morhen it's not different. "Of course, princess, please go on." The smile on Coen's face is warm and adoring. Maybe, one day - he decides silently - when Ciri is all grown up and a witcher undoubtedly much stronger than him, he will tease her about her crush. For now he just lets her be a kid.

Jaskier grins knowingly and waves his hand in the air, addressing Geralt once more. "If that's been a shock to you, just wait a year or two for her first rebellion. I bet 100 crowns she'll fall for Lambert."

No, Geralt thinks. Not if Lambert is conveniently locked up in the basement.

#the witcher #artistsfuneral about the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri of cintra #witcher coen #witcher

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dairyminki · 1 year

Text

Inked By Fate - FIVE

↬ pairing/s: park seonghwa x fem!reader, choi san x fem!reader ↬ genre: soulmate!au, racers!ateez, rivalry, angst, romance, fluff, pining ↬warning/s: profanities ↬wc: 2.1k

*reblogs and feedbacks are much appreciated!

・・・・・★

Another night at KQ-Strip, another race to be missed.

"Yeo, I'll just go to the comfort room, okay?"

"Sure, but be back quick. You don't want to miss my race, do you?" Yeosang had the smug look on and you just can't help but scoff.

"Yeah, whatever." You replied and then you went on your way.

By now, you've totally mastered the whole place, you're also starting to think that one of these days, Yeosang will start to question your frequent disappearances and trips to the comfort room.

Just like always, you go inside the comfort room first, you washed your face and then as soon as you were done, you went out to go look for San, that is, if he doesn't find you first, which he always does anyway.

But tonight, a shocked expression was evident on your face when you opened the door, because not only San greeted you outside, but also another male, who's smirking your way.

"So, she's the one you've been waiting for, right Choi? Or am I wrong?" Hongjoong asks the younger, yet much taller male.

"H-Hongjoong…" You gasp. "What are you doing here?"

The mentioned male just shakes his head, grinning deviously after. "You don't think you're the one I should ask that?" He raises an eyebrow, making you gulp.

You sigh, giving in, not fighting the fact that one of Yeosang's friends finally caught you with your little secret rendezvous with one of their despised, not really, rivals. And it happens to be Hongjoong who has caught you, huh?

"Fine, I admit I've been seeing San. So what?" You retort, trying to act brave, even though deep inside you're scared that your brother will find out that you just so happened to break the trust he has given you.

"Really? You're not afraid that Yeosang might find out?"

"Well, he won't find out if you won't tell him." You counter.

"What makes you think I won't tell him?" Hongjoong replies, and now you two are stuck in an intense eye staring battle, with a quiet San at the side.

Still in the middle of the battle, Hongjoong says, "Why are you seeing a member of Inferno when Yeosang clearly told you not to?"

"Why shouldn't I, when I'm my own person?" You mutter through gritted teeth, San slightly tensing at the side due to the fact that you just used his exact words.

The next thing you knew, Hongjoong was already chuckling.

"Now I know why Mingi has taken a liking to you, Y/N. Feisty, that's what you are." A devious of a smirk appears on the blonde's face. Then his face turns serious.

"But, I really need to know your business with Inferno, Y/N. When Yeosang told you to stay away, he meant it. Tell me what do you keep seeing San for, and if it passes my validity standard in terms of reasoning then I might just let this incident slide and never mention a word to your brother...for the meantime, that is."

What's up with Inferno really? You wanted to ask. Because it's getting a little sketchy and tense whenever someone lets the word slip past their mouths.

Is there something that you should know of?

Your train of thoughts stops when you feel someone tap your shoulder, and when you look back, it was San. And in a whisper, he says to you, "Let me deal with Mr. Tiny." If it wasn't for the current situation, you might've laughed.

"Hongjoong hyung." San speaks, catching the male's attention.

"No cover ups, just speak the truth Choi."

"You want the truth, then I'll give you that." You hear San mutter under his breath as he takes a step closer to Hongjoong.

"Soulmates."

At that, you see Hongjoong flinch. "I-uh? What?" He asks, perplexed by a single word.

"Soulmates. We're soulmates." San repeats, making sure Hongjoong hears it much clearer this time.

Hongjoong was wearing a look of shock and disbelief, and you mirrored him.

Just what on earth is Choi San plotting now?

Did he perhaps know?

・・・・・★

After escaping Hongjoong and sealing a deal with him to keep his mouth shut, you and San run along to his car.

Few minutes into the car ride was pure silence until your companion spoke up.

"I'm sorry about that. It's the only excuse I could make up." There was regret in his voice, but you just giggled silently.

"It's okay San."

So he didn't know.

But he wasn't wrong either. His excuse was…

"Y/N, I have something to tell you, by the way." San speaks again, this time with much urgency in his voice.

Before he could ramble on, you held up a hand and told him to focus on the road.

"I have something to tell you too, San, but can you just drive for now? Our talk could wait, you know?" You mused and San just mumbles a sorry, smiling sheepishly after.

・・・・・★

San rolls up one of his sleeves and shows you his wrist. Now empty.

Your inked name nowhere to be found, instead, the skin was now littered with freckles.

Seeing your puzzled expression, he chuckles, saying, "I know, I was confused too. Because the moment I woke up and checked my wrists, I didn't see your name anymore, just these freckles, which surprised me even more."

Hmm...the tattoo faded, then?

Then that just backs-up the data you've gathered. It makes much more sense now.

"So I did my research," You say, turning San to his attentive state.

"...and the only plausible explanation for our current situation is that…"

"Is that what? C'mon, don't get all suspenseful about it on me now!" San whines and you can't help but chuckle at his cuteness.

Just where did the smirky San go?

"The only plausible explanation as to what the both of us could be is that…..we're platonic soulmates, San."

As soon as you dropped the bomb, San's eyes were wide, not in horror, but in amusement? Excitement? You don't know, but you know it's positive.

"No way—platonic soulmates exist too?" He had a hand over his mouth, like a child who just discovered that Santa Claus isn't real.

"Funny, cause that's what I asked my friend too. Research says that having a platonic soulmate is rare in occasion, having only 8% of the population to have one. Probably why not much knows that this type of soulmates exists." You say, relaying the information you've gathered with Jia earlier.

"So that's why…" San mutters. When you look at him, he wears this warm smile, his dimples still showing up of course.

"That explains why I feel connected to you in some way, even after knowing we're not soulmates- well we kinda are, but not in a romantic, or lover aspect. But we're basically still each other's halves, platonically, and I'm happy," San tells you, smiling so dearly and giggling after, that you just can't help but mirror his joy.

After learning you two are platonic soulmates, you can't help but think that maybe it wasn't attraction you felt for San on that first night, maybe it was indeed the connection your souls have with each other that kept you drawn to him. Because as you stare at San now, only one thought crosses your mind.

Being with him surely feels like hanging out with a friend you've known for years.

・・・・・★

Just as you thought that the night was over, you clearly thought wrong.

San was supposed to drive you back to the underground, but it just made your eyebrows furrowed in confusion once you noticed he was taking a different route. You're pretty aware that the race is finished too. So where on earth is San taking you?

"We're here!" San chirps as he turns off the car's engine. While you stayed put in your seat, San exited the car and went to your side to open the car door.

"Where are we exactly?" You question only to receive no reply as San just grabs you out of your seat.

"You'll see."

The male proceeds to drag you until you two arrive in front of a building. Entering, your eyes automatically scan the whole place - it was lavish.

This place is something you surely know you can't and won't be able to afford.

You gawked as the two of you stepped inside the elevator - even the elevator was high class!

"San, where exactly are we?" You asked San who was in front of you, busily pressing on some buttons.

"Just you wait and see, Y/N."

When the elevator opened, you immediately followed San, only to wince in pain when your face landed flat on his back. You were too busy roaming your eyes around the area to notice that he had stopped walking.

When you peaked, you saw that the two of you stopped in front of a room. San knocked on the door, and instantly, you heard commotion from inside.

"San-"

The door opens.

"Oh goodness, there you are! Where the heck did you disappear—Y/N-ie?!" Wooyoung shrieks as he sees you together with his friend. What on earth is Kang Yeosang's sister doing here?

"Uh-hi?" You awkwardly greeted, and then you turned to San who was beside you, waiting for him to fill you in.

San chuckles, dismissing your look of confusion and Wooyoung's questioning glare. He pushes you inside by the small of your back and says, "Welcome to our dorm, Y/N!"

・・・・・★

They call this a dorm? This place that almost looks like a five star hotel, a dorm??

"When you told me you had a girl friend, I didn't expect it to be Kang Y/N." Wooyoung exclaims to his friend. He was seated on the loveseat which was opposite of the couch you and San are both seated on.

"Trust me, neither did I expect it, Woo," San replies casually, his attention present on the flat-screen television as he flips through channel by channel.

Meanwhile, you're silent by yourself, certainly not expecting today is the day that San would drag you to see their dorm.

"So tell me, what is little Y/N-ie doing inside an Inferno's marked territory even if her brother clearly despises us?" Wooyoung's look was challenging as he sends you a smirk.

And did he just call you little Y/N-ie? Little??

"The audacity to call me little when you're not so tall yourself." You retort, only to send him into a boisterous laughter.

"This is why I like you, Y/N!" Then the next thing you knew, he's already out of the loveseat and is now clinging to your side, one arm looped with yours.

"So tell me, how'd you manage to befriend little Sannie?" He proceeds to ask with an amused smile.

Before you could answer anything, San happily does it for you. "She's clearly uncomfortable with you sticking like glue beside her Woo."

You were almost thankful to San, note, almost.

"Also, how she and I became friends isn't what's important right now Woo. In fact, she's here because of a certain someone." San smiles innocently, and you're sure his statement piqued Wooyoung's interest much more, but not yours.

You knew exactly what San was referring to.

"Is it what I think it is?" Wooyoung chides, then he turns to you, wiggling his brows.

"No! It's not what you thi-"

Your words were cut off due to an abrupt knock from the door.

"Speaking of that certain someone." San whistles as he stood up from the couch and went straight for the door to open it.

You just sat on the couch, defeated and somewhat nervous. Because, he's here.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung was frowning beside you. "Oh, so San meant you're here for him, for Seonghwa hyung," He huffs. "And here I thought you've somehow fallen for my charms and came to see me."

At that your eyes widened. "What the fuck, Wooyoung?"

"Yeosang's sister?" You hear someone speak. And you already knew who it was.

There he was, in his all-black glory, standing beside San with his hands inside his pockets, his face displaying a questioning look. You don't know him well, but you're sure his expression says he's not pleased with your presence here.

Well who would be? When you're the sister of one of his rivals?

You scoffed, standing up. "I have a name, you know."

Your mind might've been playing tricks on you and perhaps, your eyes, but you know you saw that ghost of a smile pass by his lips.

"Sure you have." Seonghwa says, and just like that, he turns around and walks away. To his room, maybe.

But you made sure to stop him before he could enter inside. Why is he like this?

That's it, you've had enough.

"Park Seonghwa, you're one heck of a cold jerk!" You shout at the top of your lungs, surprising the three males inside the room.

Tension and silence wrapped the room coldly for a dreadful moment before you heard a dark, deep chuckle.

"And so I've heard, Kang," Seonghwa spoke in a monotone before he twisted open the knob to his room, went inside and slammed it shut.

You blinked your eyes in disbelief. Soon, your cheeks were tinted a deep shade of red and eventually you fall back on the couch, hugging a pillow to your face as you realize what you've just done.

Did you just do that? Yes, you did!

It's embarrassing for fuck's sake, but there's no way you'll be able to hold back your annoyance on him any longer.

And it also seems like you won't be able to face him anymore.

・・・・・★

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podcastenthusiast · 2 years

Text

It's perfect, for a while.

They have a home at Corvo Bianco, far away from politics and ghosts. A garden, too, because Geralt still likes to keep his potion-brewing skills sharp and Yennefer has found she enjoys making her own perfume. They have room for a few horses in the stables—retired racers and warhorses. Roach pretends to dislike their company, but Yennefer can tell it's just an act.

Yennefer finds a quiet life suits her more than she ever expected. They drink excellent wine. Take walks together, in the fields or by the stream, and she listens as Geralt talks at length about various plants and creatures. They hold each other at night. They read in bed. Eat breakfast in bed. They do many things in bed.

Winter, though... winter is hard. At times, Yennefer has to remind herself that this isn't Aedd Gynvael.

Geralt starts sleeping in late. Not the gentle, lazy rhythm of unspooling days they enjoyed together in the seasons before. He stays in bed like he can't bring himself to face the day. Sleeps like he's running from something. Barely speaks. He doesn't eat enough, especially for a witcher—even an idle one; Marlene frets over it constantly.

When he does rise, he works himself beyond exhaustion for no reason she can understand. The winter chill is mild here in Toussaint, and they have staff now, yet still he chops firewood himself until they've run out of room to store it all, as if he's preparing to heat a whole castle—

Oh.

It is about a castle, isn't it. She suspects he misses Kaer Morhen. His family.

"Talk to me," she says one night. One could almost call it pleading were she a different woman.

"Just read my thoughts, if you're so insistent."

"I know that isn't your preferred method of communication, nor mine."

Not to mention she's a little afraid of what she might find in that poor tormented mind of his. Yennefer rakes her fingers through his long hair. Geralt, head resting against her breasts, says nothing at all.

"We're too old for this. We agreed to stop running from things. Talk to me, Geralt."

"I'm tired, Yen." He speaks like each word pains him. "I don't know what's wrong with me. You're happy. Roach is happy."

"Roach is a horse, love. She would be content anywhere as long as there are apples in it for her."

"I love it here with you. Really, I do. It's better than I deserve. Thought I might even be the first witcher ever to die in his bed. Imagine that."

"I'd rather not," she mutters.

"I was—I thought I could be happy. But maybe I don't know how. Maybe I'm not capable of it anymore, only able to feel a brief shadow of contentment. All they left me with is anger and sadness. I'm sorry."

Yennefer cannot bear to hear this. She hates when Geralt talks about himself like a thing, and a broken one at that.

She takes his face in her hands.

"Now you listen to me, Geralt of Rivia. Never apologize for what you feel. Your feelings are as real and important as mine or anyone else's."

"But—"

"Listen, I said! If you're sad, then be sad for as long as you need to. I am not leaving. And neither are you. We're done with all that nonsense. Aren't we?"

"...Yeah."

She pulls him close.

While the witcher sleeps in her arms, Yennefer devises a plan.

Jaskier and Zoltan are the easiest to find, of course. The bard doesn't take much convincing at all either. She need only say that Geralt needs him.

Ciri is much the same, immediately willing to help and (ironically) easy to locate; the imprint of magic she leaves in her wake still shines bright as a beacon.

She tracks Lambert down to an inn at the foothills of the Blue Mountains. It's easy enough; he never has been quiet or subtle a day in his life.

"You're here and Geralt isn't," he says, white-knuckled grip on his mug of beer. "So is he...dead, or—"

"He's alive," Yennefer says before the witcher can spiral any further. "He's safe. Unharmed."

"Then what the fuck are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you. Heading to Kaer Morhen for the winter?"

"No, I'm fucking not," Lambert snaps. "Wouldn't be any point."

"Yet here you are in Kaedwen."

"Yeah. Old habits. I don't know."

"Come to Toussaint."

"Why the fuck—"

"Because I'm starting a new tradition, one that requires all the remaining witchers of the Wolf school to gather at Corvo Bianco immediately. And because I asked nicely."

"Gonna turn me into a frog if I refuse?"

She smiles dangerously. "We shall see."

Eskel is a little more difficult to find because he isn't slowing down for the winter. In the end, she follows a trail of dead monsters from town to town, inquiring about the witcher who slew them. At least his scar is distinctive.

"Geralt is fine," she says this time instead of a greeting, and the witcher's tense shoulders relax slightly. "Alive and uninjured, anyway. But it would do him good to see his brothers."

"Sentimental old wolf," Eskel says with unrestrained fondness. He pats his horse's neck and does not look at Yennefer. "He asked me to stay. After... after Vesemir's funeral. But I just. I couldn't go back there, y'know? It'd be too quiet."

"It's too quiet," Geralt had whispered one cold night when she was drifting off to sleep beside him.

"Been worried about him," Eskel continues. "Hoping he isn't in the keep, all alone. Or out on the Path taking stupid risks."

"Is that what you're doing?" she asks.

Eskel shrugs. "Didn't know where else to go, I guess."

"He's not alone," she says. "But I think he also needs more than I can give."

"...Are you all right?" Eskel asks, and Yennefer realizes she'd begun to sway somewhat alarmingly.

"Fine. Just tired. I've simply...expended too much magical energy in a short time. Portals, and such."

"You're really doing a lot for him."

"Surprised?"

"Well...no." Eskel apparently is the only tactful witcher the Wolves have, but he's a shit liar.

"Perhaps I find his moping dreadfully irritating. Let that suffice if it pleases you all to think of me as a selfish witch who ensnared your brother."

"What's the truth, though?"

"I love him," Yennefer says. "And he would walk through a hundred portals for me, I'm certain. This is the least I can do."

Upon seeing Yennefer, Jaskier, Zoltan, Ciri, Lambert, Eskel, and Regis—the vampire having appeared out of thin air—all gathered together at Corvo Bianco, Geralt's immediate response is: "Damn. Am I dying?"

"Of course not," Ciri says, embracing him.

"It's about your Gwent addiction," Jaskier quips.

"I can stop whenever I want."

"You sound like Lambert when Vesemir locked the wine cellar," Eskel says.

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

"You started mixing up White Gull with random herbs and any half-empty bottles you could find."

"A lesson in creativity," Lambert says.

"Seriously, what are you all doing here?" Geralt asks.

"It was my doing. I invited them."

"Why? Is it Ciri? Is--"

"There's no danger. Everyone is all right," Yennefer assures him. "It's winter. Time for rest. And to be with your family."

They all stay until the pull of their own lives becomes too great to resist. For a while, their home is filled with life and laughter and music.

"Thanks, Yen," Geralt murmurs into her hair later that evening.

It doesn't fix everything. There are still those who should be here but cannot be, whether due to death or simply life's demands. There are still days when the icy tendrils of grief and pain seize Geralt's heart, and even the warmth of everyone who loves him isn't enough to break its hold.

But Yennefer knows it helped when she sees Geralt smile more. She can almost feel the ice in him beginning to melt.

#whisking canons and headcanons together until i get the hurt/comfort i need #mostly game canon with book references and dandelion is called jaskier #the witcher 3 #the witcher #yenralt #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #witcher 3 wild hunt #witcher fic #witcher fanfiction #witcher 3 blood and wine

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mistydeyes · 1 year

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hi, i was wondering if you're still doing pairings for mw2? if not, just ignore this <3

LOOKS: bi woman with chest-long black hair with the lower half of it dyed red, pale, brown eyes. my style is goth, so i'm usually seen with big eyeliner and black lipstick and wearing my meather jacket, demonias and usually some ripped clothes depending if i wanna dress like a victorian vampire or a homeless ghoul

PERSONALITY: I'm sarcastic and blunt, not afraid to clap back if someone does me wrong, pretty foul-mouthed (as my mum says) and I struggle with showing my emotions which usually makes me seem cold and distant at first, but I'll warm up a bit after some time — i have a soft spot, i'm just tough to crack. I don't like to follow rules which gets me into trouble sometimes, my love language is (gently) bullying my friends but I'm also the mum friend, so I look out for them, give them scary dog privileges when they walk with me and bring them coffee and food to work. I prefer to be alone, usually listening to music, reading books or going on a walk at the local graveyard, but I also enjoy the company of a good friend in silence.

I study psychology and I give tutoring lessons to kids. I also prefer to stay quiet unless I'm with close friends, I'm very attentive and tend to psychoanalyze everything and everyone around me, even myself, so I usually figure out if something's off. I also struggle with my mental health and anger issues, but I'm working on it.

Thank you if you still do the pairings and don't worry if you don't, I'll gladly reread your fics instead <3 Much love – 🕷

Simon "Ghost" Riley (a/n: aww thanks for the kind words anon! hope you enjoy this!!)

How you met: Civilian You sighed as you finished up your tutoring lesson with your group of primary school students. Your group of 6 and 7 year olds learned various homophones and how to spell them. It wasn't your favorite lesson to tutor but you enjoyed giving out stickers for their achievements. As their parents came to pick them up, one of your students sat patiently. "My Uncle Simon is picking me up today," he excitingly reminded you. His father and mother, the Mactavish's, were out of town so they informed you that a Simon Riley would be picking up the young boy. "I see him!" he yelled and was about to run off before you stopped him. "I just need to check his ID and you're good to go," you gently said before he sat back down in his chair. When Simon finally approached, he was much different than what you had expected. He wore a black hoodie with jeans and a face mask. He also towered over you as you asked for his ID. After he presented you with his military ID (you put the pieces together as to how him and Johnny were acquainted), you let the excited boy go. He quickly gripped on to Simon's forearm and swung from it as he signed the sign-out sheet. "Uncle Simon, Uncle Simon, can we get ice cream on the way home?" he asked as Simon looked down to the little child. "As long as you can tell me what you learned today, your parents pay good money for you to get tutored," he laughed slightly and you could see the corner of his eyes perk up. "Thanks again Miss," he nodded to you before leaving. As you packed up your things, you secretly hoped he would be back for pick-up again.

A peek into your relationship: "Alright level 1," you said as you picked up the white card, "what was your first impression of me?" "Why are we playing this again?" he asked as you laid in his lap. "Because Simon, I'm a psych major 'We're not really strangers' is a game that was made for me," you dramatically said as you dangled the card in his face. "Alright," he said as he thought over his next words, "definitely didn't expect you to be a tutor, you looked like a witch or a vampire who eats kids," he joked. You punched his shoulder lightly, "I'm sorry at least I didn't show up looking like the grim reaper." "But after I heard the little MacTavish talk about you, I thought you weren't all that bad and had a soft spot for kids," he finished and you were satisfied with the answer. "As for you, I thought that even though you looked scary, the way you entertained Johnny Jr. and took him out for ice cream was cute," you replied as you smiled up at him. "I also may or may not have asked him some covert questions if you were single or not," you winked and Simon laid a kiss on your forehead. "Yeah, he also might have told me your ideal date was in a fucking graveyard," he replied and you both laughed as Johnny Jr. was correct and the rest was history.

#izziespairings #madebyizzie #cod mwii #mw2 imagine #task force 141 #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #mw2

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mysticalreviewblaze · 1 year

Text

🚫🚫VENT POST🚫🚫

I really honestly personally don't want a job... But you know what I feel like I NEED to have one.

Because I believe I'm not good enough if I don't have a said job. I feel like I'm letting my parents down.

They expect a highly intelligent, no emotions, mature ridden oldest daughter...

But it's like they forget that high expectations BREAK kids, they HURT kids, we feel useless if we aren't useful.

We don't feel shitty if we are not needed which causes us to wonder if something is wrong with us...

... I'm getting a job tomorrow... I'm going to be working... Because I dropped out of highschool.

And you know it's fucked up when I tell my friends and they think I'm going to stay a complete drop out, when I've told them multiple times "Oh no I'm still getting my diploma just not in school online school"..

But it still didn't ring a bell in their heads... They guilt trip me when I stopped going not realizing I was fucking upset I got broken up with, I had drama every single day, I had to take care of my niece, I had to watch my sister, I had to take care of the animals, And I never once got a fucking thank you...

My teachers wonder why I'm so fucking quiet well when you have one teacher ignore you, you kinda just stop doing anything a teacher wants you to do...

You know I told my teacher I didn't want to be a role model at the age of 14 she said I had no choice... I have to ve a role model...

My family is fucked up in all different ways, one second we're happy next second I'm in my room, angry, sad, fearful, or just flat out tired...

Dads a fucking drinker and my mother just laughs it off and acts like it's normal... Not when you're afraid of your drunk dad... No, because he's so fucking reckless one day he may hurt himself badly...

I honestly wonder if I even want to be on this planet but then again I'm afraid of dying so nevermind I'll just deal with this pain until I'm in my grave...

I'm not trying to be an ass I'm not trying to ask for attention I just want someone to relate to me... Because I'm so tired of holding all of this pain in... I'm always waiting till a new drama pops up because it does...

I haven't even lived my life yet and my oldest brother a man who's almost in his fucking 30s is asking an 18 year old relationship advice when I have none... I have fucking opinions, morals, standards... I have only had 2 relationships and they both fucked up... I know nothing about relationships still I'm only just starting and I'm already being used as a therapist for my family... When I got tired of being the therapist 2 years ago, only because my friends would just ignore what I'd have to say...

Sorry this was all over the place but I just needs to get it out Friday may 22 2023 at 5:11am I'm too lazy to put tags on this post later.

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dxkk1104 · 2 years

Text

part three:

Re-building a relationship with Sakura and spending time with her was nice and necessary for Sasuke, because then he didn't think about Itachi's condition. But, surprisingly, seeing her laughing, dancing and be happy with someone else was no longer so wonderful. Even more so when she looked at Isao the way she used to look at him.

And when Isao looked into his eyes as he was kissing Sakura, it was as if he was laughing at him.

Sasuke felt like ripping his head off.

And why did he agree to come here? Ino invited friends and friends of friends and even a few strangers to a pre-Christmas party.

"Sasuke-kun, why are you standing here alone? Come play." he didn't even know her.

Sakura was walking toward him. He saw her point her finger at him and move. Sasuke tensed slightly.

"Sorry, but I'm borrowing him." he didn't look around to check the stranger's reaction.

"Where are you leading me, Sakura?"

"We're going drinking!" she hugged him around the waist and pulled him close "Look who I brought!"

Isao poured sake, and Naruto refrained from laughing.

"If I wanted to take him out here, he wouldn't agree," he commented.

All four stood in the kitchen, drinking and laughing, except for Sasuke. He simply watched everyone and only answered Sakura's questions.

Suddenly Sakura snagged the edge of the countertop and spilled the drink on Isao's blouse. Sasuke saw the boy's jaw clench and anger painted in his eyes, but he quickly put on a gentle face.

"Sorry." she tried to wipe the stain with a handkerchief.

"It’s fine, but I'd like to go home now. I'm tired."

Sakura looked at Sasuke and Naruto, and he could tell by the expression on her face that she didn't want to go back at all.

"... Oh, okey."

Having said goodbye to everyone, Sakura finally got a breath of fresh air.

The streets of Konoha were empty and dark, with few lighted windows.

Sakura walked beside Isao, not even trying to grab his hand. She had noticed recently that the boy was nervous all the time.

However, she didn't ask him what was wrong.

"It would have been nice to stay longer."

"Sakura, I told you I was tired."

"I know, I know, I just.... I don't know." she had no idea how to continue the conversation with him when his tone made it clear that he would prefer her to be quiet.

"Then can you not talk about it anymore?"

"Sure." their footsteps were the only sound drowning out the silence, "And I'm sorry again about the blouse."

"I already said..."

"I know, although it's too bad you couldn't see your face, it was brilliant."

She laughed, and her cheeks lifted upward only to fall immediately through the pain on the face.

Sakura held her right cheek, which was burning. The red mark would surely remain.

She longed for a safe place, away from him, where Sasuke and Naruto or Ino were.

She wanted to run away, also to hit him, to say something, but she couldn't. Her legs seemed to glue Sakura to the ground.

Sakura stood looking into his eyes, with pain inflicted not only physically but also mentally, wondering who this man really was and whether she would be able to get away from him, while he said over and over again: Sakura, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to; it was an accident; you know I love you.

…

Each successive blow was less painful. Within six months, Sakura had grown accustomed to it. Helplessness and fear took over her. She was afraid to tell anyone, so she sat quietly. She didn't know how to stop Isao when each pain was followed by kind words and apologies....

And then accusing. It went from; I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, to; It's your fault, you should have not pissed me off.

And living in constant anxiety and vulnerability, Sakura sadly began to believe that it was her fault.

She just didn't want to believe that the boy she met; always smiling, able to make people feel better and supportive, really was a monster.

"Sakura, are you listening to me?" she felt Sasuke's gaze on her face. She raised her head from above the documents they were reviewing "You've been absent lately, what's going on?"

The truth almost came out of her mouth, almost.

"Nothing, I'm just tired. I sleep badly."

Sasuke wanted to say more, but held back.

"Hn. We're done for today. Go home and get a decent sleep."

"Could I..." stay here?

If only she had been braver, she would have said so. Then Sasuke would probably start asking more questions and finally she could no longer lie to him.

But she didn't want to see the disappointment in his eyes when he'd heard how she was letting herself be pushed around by someone else. Because after all, she was doing it, right? What else would she say when she had the power to rid Isao of her life.

Sakura felt that if she didn't get out of here right away she would burst into tears and could no longer say anything.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow"

Leaving Sasuke alone, Sakura walked toward the exit. Silence enveloped the Uchiha house, and all the lights were out. No one should be home that evening.

"You forgave him quickly."

Nevertheless, Shisui sat down on the living room couch.

He stared at Sakura, expecting some kind of reaction. She didn't have the strength to get into a larger discussion, but apparently a conversation with Shisui had to happen eventually.

Sakura saw him looking at her during their little 'argument'. So he was probably waiting for an explanation and a desire to understand why she was still in contact with his cousin.

"I haven't fully forgiven him." she commented, adopting a mask on her face, "But Sasuke is trying. I don't want to end my friendship with him because of stupid words spoken in a flurry of negative emotions."

"Sasuke often can't control his emotions when something bad happens to his friends and family. Itachi doesn't have much time left." Shisui got up from the couch and approached Sakura, "Sasuke will try to cut himself off from his friends then."

"I know, and that's why I'll be at his side to support him,"

"He may once again hurt you with words."

"I am aware of that." they slowly approached the exit "But you don't have to worry, Shisui, I can handle it. Sasuke will need our help then."

"You are so concerned about others and smart, Sakura, and Sasuke is.... perceptive." Shisui stoped and Sakura turned to him "You've also been overly alert lately. You only wear sweaters or sweatshirts and don't allow yourself to be touched much. Even Sasuke. What's going on?"

Sakura opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She didn't know what to do, what to say, how to react, so she laughed to distract Shisui, who was looking at her too seriously for him, from her embarrassment.

"Nothing, I swear. If something was going on, I would have told you. You believe me, right?"

She needed to know if her pretense was going well. How long would it be before someone caught on.

"Of course I believe you, Sakura."

…

The evenings became increasingly chilly. Wind blew Sakura's hair away, giving her extra shivers.

Together with Naruto and Sasuke, they were in the park. She was sitting on a bench with the blond boy, and Sasuke was standing next to him.

They talked about all sorts of topics; missions, the hospital, personal and family matters.

It was nice to finally spend time with friends, away from Isao.

"...And boom!" Naruto raised his hands, laughing to his heart's content. Sakura enjoyed their presence.

And then a recent conversation with a friend popped into her head, which she didn't know at the time if she felt like having. However, she needed to get confirmation from Sasuke if it was true.

"Oh, I just remembered, Sasuke. I heard that you've been seeing someone lately."

She looked at her friend, but Sasuke measured Naruto with the eyes. He must not have known he had told her.

"I've only seen her twice. Father's request."

"Ah, that means they want to push you into an arranged marriage." Sakura bit the lips. Something ached in her heart "What is she like?"

"She is nice and smiles quite often. That's all I know, she doesn't talk much."

At least Sasuke will be with someone good, Sakura thought.

Naruto sat quietly, as if carrying on a conversation with Sasuke without using speech. Sakura sensed the tension they had created.

"Well, it's time for me." she broke the awkward silence. She sat with them for too long, it will soon be a new day. Sakura stood up and shook her friend's hand, "Congratulations."

"Sakura, you don't have to..." she fell into his arms.

How long it had been since she had embraced a man of her own free will. How much she wanted to feel safe in someone's embrace.

"You deserve to be happy, Sasuke." she whispered.

Suddenly they felt more arms tightly embracing them. Naruto joined in.

"Each of us deserves."

After a few minutes of hugging, Sakura finally went home. The apartment was quiet and empty. Her parents had gone outside Konoha again, leaving her alone. She should start living on her own soon anyway.

Entering the kitchen, she placed the shopping net, she had made earlier, on the counter. The light came on.

"I was waiting for you."

Hands of the clock struck midnight, and chills ran through Sakura because of that voice.

"What are you doing here? And how did you get there?"

Isao took the keys out of his pocket, smiling sickeningly.

"I got the keys. You shouldn't be angry, we've been together for over a year." she was not so much angry as terrified. This was also where her parents lived, and he now had unfettered access to their apartment "I need to talk to you.", he approached slowly, lurking like an attacker on his victim "I don't like that you spend so much time with your friends.".

Sakura eluded him, walking over to the kitchen counter.

"What do you want to eat?"

she tried to avoid another conversation that would only end one way.

"Don't change the subject,"

"You didn't have a problem with it before."

With trembling hands, she searched for a cup.

"Because you had a quarrel with one." he tucked Sakura's hair behind her ear, gently sliding the fingers down to pull her with all his strength. Her neck arched, and he pressed his slimy lips to hers. She felt his breath on the face "Uchiha..." his dry lips touched hers as he spoke, "I hate him. I wanted him to suffer. And do you know what hurts him the most? Hurting the people he loves."

"What did he..." she began in a trembling voice, but Isao interrupted her.

"Shh, it's not nice to ask such questions." he let go of her hair, and Sakura knew he had pulled some of it out "But do you know what I want now, Sakura?" he ran his hand over her back "Exclusively you. Let's leave Konoha."

"No..."

He turned Sakura to face him, so that her back was touching the kitchen counter, and placed his hands on either side of her. He leaned in close, too close.

"Maybe I'll say it another way. It's better for you if you agree. I don't think you want something to happen to your parents by accident."

She couldn't even answer. Moving from the spot was not an option. Sakura's muscles didn't want to do anything, her arms hung limply along her body. Her breathing was shallow and rapid. A growing panic gripped her mind.

And when Isao started kissing her neck and touching her belly and the area under the breasts, Sakura imagined it was Sasuke and his soft lips and hands.

But most of all, she wanted to believe that this is what she wanted.

…

Yesterday she lay in bed all day. She had no strength to do anything. Isao left the apartment in the morning and Sakura hasn't seen him since.

For twenty-four hours she wondered what she should do. Because she should do something, but she was so afraid.

But maybe that time has come. After work, she will go to Mikoto and tell her. Sasuke's mother was the closest of all adults to her. She will know what to do.

"Good morning," the nurse snapped Sakura out of her reverie.

"Good morning." she nodded and moved on through the corridors of the hospital.

She reached the medical cards room and started looking for Itachi. However, she couldn't find it, so Tsunade had to take care of him today.

Sakura moved on, playing out possible scenarios in her head. What will happen? How will Mikoto react? What if the rest find out as well?

"...Yes, yes." Tsunade's voice.

Raising her eyes, Sakura noticed a woman standing in front of the hall.

"Lady Tsunade, I'm ready now. Could I have Itachi's cards, please?"

"Sakura, I'm so sorry."

"No." the word was thrown to the wind and floated into the abyss, and with it flowed all the pain and despair.

Sakura slid down the wall and landed heavily on the floor. She sat like that for an hour, two hours, half a day, until it became dark outside.

By this time, Mikoto had already arrived at the hospital, and her shrieking scream echoed in Sakura's ears until now. Fugaku silently received the news, but before Sakura could see his expression, he was gone. Shisui cried quietly, clutching the material of the sweatshirt just above his heart.

And Sasuke didn't appear.

Maybe it was already 6 pm, or maybe 8, Sakura didn't care. She got up from the floor, slowly paving her way through the streets of Konoha. She looked like a zombie; pale, with blackened eyes and cracked lips, barely lifting her legs up.

Passing through the door to Sasuke's house, without knocking, she climbed the stairs. Through the ajar door, she could see the boy, dressed all in black, leaning against the bed and looking into the distance, with empty eyes.

Sakura sat down next to him, curling her legs up and wrapping the arms around them. She rested her head on his shoulder.

Sasuke's hard shell fell away. Moments later, tears flowed.

…

Sasuke went through the three phases.

The first was quiet. He allowed Sakura and Naruto to come to him and comfort and touch him. He didn't talk much, but thanked them for being next to him.

The second was dominated by anger. Sasuke was screaming, getting furious and was sick of the presence of others. He used to say; "Can you finally fucking leave me alone?!"

And in the third he distanced himself from the friends. Sakura came every day, but was always sent away by Mikoto, who explained how much Sasuke didn't want to see anyone.

This had been going on for a month and, although Sakura had earlier planned to tell her aunt about everything, she dismissed the idea, not wanting to burden the poor mother grieving over the loss of her son. So one evening, after a few threats and frightened parents who had no idea who sometimes breaks into their house in the evenings and leaves various, strange objects, Sakura sat down to write letters.

She wanted to deliver them to Ino, Naruto and Sasuke.

Tears came to Sakura's eyes on their own as more words were written down on the paper.

She wrapped them nicely in envelopes and left the house. People were walking briskly that morning, and birds were chirping in the background. Entering the Uchiha mansion, Sakura greeted Sasuke's relatives with friendliness and smiles. Everyone was so happy.

Finally, she arrived at his door.

She knocked and a moment later Mikoto appeared at the threshold.

"Sakura, sweetheart, what are you doing here?" the poor woman had blackened eyes, red eyeballs and greasy hair.

"Is Sasuke here perhaps? I have something for him."

"There's already someone with him. Why don't you come next time?"

There might not be a next time, she thought.

"Oh, I didn't know he was already letting guests in. But that's okay. Would you, auntie, give him this?"

Mikoto took the red envelope from Sakura.

A knock broke the overwhelming, awkward silence that had been going on for an hour as soon as Keiko came to him.

"From Sakura." Mikoto didn't even cross the threshold of the door.

Sasuke rose from the ground and picked up the letter. His mother went back to her place, probably locking herself in her room for the rest of the day and not showing until morning.

The envelope had a single, barely visible tear stain.

He turned to Keiko, hoping the girl would understand that he wanted to be alone, but she was still standing in the same spot. Sasuke sent her a meaningful look.

"What?"

"Maybe it's time for you to go home?"

"No. I told my parents I wouldn't be until three hours later." she smiled innocently.

Sasuke had to calm his nerves. He didn't want to say something stupid or raise his voice. It wasn't Keiko's fault that her father and his told them to spend a lot more time together.

It was just as much not her fault that she was forced into a marriage with Sasuke, which was already due to take place next year.

"I have something to do. Alone."

Keiko looked as if she was wondering if she should definitely leave his room. Fugaku will probably ask her later why she went so early. But she finally left Sasuke.

Examining the envelope carefully, Sasuke found nothing else on it. He opened it and started reading.

'Dear Sasuke

I am writing because I don't know if I would be able to give you this message verbally. Lately I've been thinking a lot about a certain, important thing, more specifically about moving to another village.

Don't get me wrong, I love Konoha and my life here, but something is missing. Maybe an adventure, or maybe a change of scenery.

That's why I've decided to leave this place. You know, we're only in our twenties, a lot still to come.

I don't know when you're reading this, but there's a high chance that I'm no longer at home. I plan to leave as early as possible.

But I want to tell you one thing - I will never stop thinking about you. I'll be back one day, I promise.

Yours Sakura'

Lie.

A lie written down on paper and signed with his friend's name. But it wasn't Sakura, not the one he knows. It was the part of her he hadn't learned much about. The wounded one.

But Sasuke was going to find out by whom and why she decided to write it.

He banged on the door, even praying in his spirit that she would be home. He lost Itachi, he couldn't her.

"Sakura, damn it, open this door!"

"Sasuke, stop. I don't want to talk about it."

She stuck her head out through the opening, but did not open it wider. Sasuke had had enough. He pushed past Sakura.

"I don't believe a word you wrote. Something has been going on for a long time, and you don't want to tell anyone about it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said too calmly.

"Don't play dumb, Sakura." she pulled down her eyebrows in sadness "Since Isao came into your life something has changed. What has he done to you?"

"Why do you say it's him? Maybe it's Naruto's fault, or my parents', or yours, or that Ita...!"

"Don't even finish it." they measured each other with their eyes "Will you finally say what's going on?"

Sakura stood in silence. Sasuke placed the envelope on the table and slid it toward her. Since she didn't want to talk, he had no intention of forcing her.

"In that case, have a nice trip."

He grabbed the handle and was about to leave when he felt a firm grip on his forearm.

"Okay, Sasuke, you're right. I need help."

"I don't want ... I can't tell you exactly what he did to me, but ..."

Her tear-drenched eyes, the expression on her face that spoke for itself, what was going on behind closed doors.

"That's enough for me."

…

A dark room, with curtains drawn. The chair that creaked with every turn. Silence, broken only by Sasuke's breathing.

He waited, counting the seconds in the head. He stomped his foot, considering various means of punishment.

"I didn't think she would finally tell you."

He appeared.

Sasuke twisted the chair. The sharingan flashed red. Isao did not step back, but looked him in the eye.

"And I didn't expect that you like to beat up innocent people."

Isao smiled disgustedly.

"I love their screams, but hers were my favorite. Sometimes I wondered if my parents sounded similar when you killed them."

Sasuke tried to keep his emotions in check. Just a moment more.

"Unfortunately, I can't tell you that." he stood up "But since you love screaming so much, now you will be able to listen to yours. For two days, without a break, until your vocal cords tear and you can't speak. And until your head stops functioning properly and you can never move normally again." he hissed, and before Isao had a chance to close his eyes, Sasuke threw him into a world of torment and torture.

The boy collapsed, writhing on the floor. He would have been happiest to settle the matter with his hands, but he promised Sakura he wouldn't do that.

She preferred worse methods.

…

Sakura was sitting in a chair, with her back to Sasuke, when he told her it was the end of her agony.

She couldn't believe it. Things changed so suddenly; she didn't have to fear for her life at every turn. Sakura could go back to the way things were before.

"You should tell Ino and Naruto that you're staying. They will be worried." Sasuke squeezed her shoulder.

"I'll do it tomorrow."

She swallowed saliva, not wanting to cry again. Although she had suffered through Isao; he was her personal prison from which she could not escape and she was the one who came up with the punishment for him; her heart squeezed and she had no idea what to do. She had become addicted to his presence, in a bad way. Her body remembered the defensive reflexes, and though he could no longer harm her, Sakura knew that she would not be able to get rid of it quickly.

"It's all right now." he squeezed Sakura's forearm and moved to exit.

Sakura wanted to shout after Sasuke that nothing is fine, but she couldn't. He had no way to understand.

"Will you stay?" she asked hopefully.

"Aa."

There was one bed, made up for two people. Normally, Sakura would have no problem sleeping next to Sasuke. She had done so as a child, even sometimes they slept with Naruto, and Sakura also lay with Sasuke together almost two years ago, but now it was different. For now, she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"You can sleep on..."

"The floor is enough for me."

Black turtleneck shirt, hair behind the ear, face so gentle. Nothing at all had changed. He was still the same Sasuke she had spent half of her short life with. Sakura embraced him, grateful to have him by her side.

...

Days were passing fast. Too fast. A whole month went by since Sakura was 'rescued'. And Sasuke had only seen her about five times.

She closed herself off; avoided work and leaving the house; refused to meet. There was less of her than before.

Sasuke felt useless without being able to do anything. He discussed it with Shisui, Naruto, his mother and even father; of course, bypassing exactly what happened to Sakura; but nothing helped.

So he decided to take matters into his own hands and talk to Sakura in person. No matter how much she might try to get away, Sasuke wanted to help her.

The window was open. A lighted lamp signaled her presence in the room. Snow had settled on the window sill. Sasuke slipped inside.

"What are you doing here, Sasuke?"

"I came to talk."

Sakura poured water into a glass.

"I don't feel like it."

"I'll wait."

She sighed, not continuing. Sipping the water slowly, she lengthened the time. Sasuke leaned against the countertop, watching her long, mid-back hair, unwashed for days, and her gray blouse with stains. Sakura murmured quietly.

Until the cup broke in her hand. The glass spilled to the ground, injuring her fingers. Blood flew in a trickle, dripping onto the wood. Sasuke took a bandage from the drawer where Sakura always hid them. He approached her, but Sakura leaned her forehead against the wall, her shoulders shaking.

"You have no idea." she said through a clenched throat, "You have no idea what's going on in my head. I can see him. Everywhere. I'm afraid he'll come here suddenly or I'll meet him on the street." Sasuke took Sakura's hand and began to bandage it "I can't leave the house because of the fear that takes over my body whenever I think of Isao. I can't function like this." she grabbed desperately at his shirt "I feel like I've lost myself somewhere and I want to find it now, Sasuke."

He also saw Itachi in everything he did, saw, heard. He was in pain, too, and yet he was doing much better than Sakura. He yearned for a new, better life for this dear, kind girl.

"Let's go on a journey."

"What?"

"Konoha hasn't been good to us lately. Why don't we go find a new place for us?" he raised the hand to touch Sakura's cheek, but she moved away. He apologized silently "Why don't we go find ourselves?"

"And your marriage?"

"I don't have a way to get married if I'm not at home."

She looked at him in disbelief.

"Would you do that for me, Sasuke-kun?"

"I would do anything for you, Sakura."

#sasusaku #sasuke x sakura #sakura uchiha #sakura haruno #uchihasasuke

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a-mag-a-day · 2 years

Note

MAG 75 - baking in the kitchen (apple something)

"My brother Grant was always afraid of heights. I remember we used to climb trees as children. He would always get scared halfway up, and it would be an hour of coaxing and reassurance before he managed to climb down. He still tried to climb them, though." - I'm the same. I always wanted to climb trees, it looked fun! But at 2 meter up tops I would get scared. Looking down already gave me vertigo and I felt, as though I suddenly lost every sense of balance. Same on ladders.

"Stairs were often more of a problem, especially if there were windows from which he could see the ground getting further away." - As long as the stairs are properly closed off, I don't have a problem. If it's just a railing to put your hands on I'll probably try to stay as far from the edge as possible. I get a lot of intrusive thoughts as soon as I'm somewhere high up with only a railing… It's just like the railway bridge in episode 5 of I Am In Eskew. I'm technically not afraid of heights then, I'm afraid of my own mind.

"I mean, it’s not that I don’t love him or anything, he’s my brother, it’s just that we’d always got on best when we spent most of our time apart." - I don't get (equal) relationships like that, when the focus is on "most of the time apart". I totally get that there are friends you dearly love but just wouldn't want as a roommate, or wouldn't want to spend vacation with. Living together (even if it's only for a week like the vacation example) is something entirely different. But, saying you get along best when most time apart? Why bother? What actually is this "getting along" then? (I get, that this is often something that's referred to family members. When there is a sense of "I have to do something with that person once in a while because we're related". But even then? When there's no reason to interact with that person?)

"Normally I would have reminded him that leaving a window open invites burglars" - on a scale of burglars to librarians, what would Mike Crew be? xD

"I’d love to say that next thing I knew I was on the ground with a broken arm, but I remember every second of that fall. Like it was happening in slow motion." - Oh, there we have the Matrix Effect again, as someone told me it was called in an earlier ask.

"My phone had been smashed in the fall, and when I asked Grant to use his, he got very quiet and told me sheepishly that it, like his keys, was still inside the house." - Who lets their phone at home when going out?? Even in 2006! XD

"I did not invite Grant, which you would have thought would make him think twice about coming with me, but you’d be wrong. As soon as I mentioned it to him, he was online checking if there were any more seats on my flight. There were." - Oh the disappointment, the contempt even at "There were". Also wtf this is so super out of line to just invite yourself like that.

"Then he kept bugging me to change my hotel booking to a twin room until I finally relented and did so. Every time I mentioned something I was planning to do he would invite himself along, generally getting me to arrange it and saying he’d pay me back." - I know someone like this, but hey are also a master of gaslighting so I cut ties. Grant though doesn't sound manipulative or malicious in any kind. He sound just naive. Guess it makes it even more a tragedy for the statement-giver to blame himself. It probably would have been easier to rationalize if he somehow thought his brother deserved it. (Though I'd be careful with this. Certain fates you don't wish your worst enemy.)

"I think that’s why I decided to take him up Tour Montparnasse." - So I googled that building because I also have no idea what that is. The rooftop observation terrace is actually well secured, there's not only a metal railing but a glass box surrounding you when you stand near the barrier. I would probably feel proper uncomfortable standing there, but not totally lost since there is no physical way for me to get over that barrier.

That part with the text messages, the picture and what the statement-giver heard when his call went through is really cool again. I love unlogical spaces like this with no escape (and by love I mean in that way of fascination for horror. I wouldn't actually love being in that situation xD).

"I really hope Grant is dead. Because, if not, I have a horrible feeling deep inside that he’s still on that ladder." - I like the moral dilemma of that statement. The guilt of the statement-giver about something happening that totally was out of his control, but it still happened because of his actions. Who would have thought it could have such dire consequences. Very similar to Jon's arc…

"but it also puts me in mind of the fate of Robert Kelly, the skydiver who fell for far longer than he…" - There a significant change of recording at "the skydiver who fell for far longer than he…". I wonder what happened here? Because these statements surely are never simply in one take, there are always cuts. So why does this one sound so different all of a sudden? Also Jon here making the connection between Crew and Fairchild.

The circumstances of Jon receiving all tapes from Basira are great! Oftentimes you can feel that some things just HAD to happen in order for the story to progress with no other reason behind it. While Jon getting access to all the tapes was still something that needed to happen, it does feel natural and relatable. Basira is angry that the police is so careless and blatantly lying to cover everything up. The police probably also doesn't care about the tapes so Basira takes them to someone who does care. It's like Jon says. The police lost Basira's loyalty. And by the time they notice the tapes gone, it's probably just fine by them. One less weird thing to deal with.

I'll be honest, I'm not sure I'd be able to handle that kind of brother in my life any better than the statement giver did 😬

#a mag a day #tma #the magnus archives #episode asks #mod ashes #tma spoilers #lycanlovingvampyre #mag 75

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thatonewatching · 1 year

Text

Church Boy-Offer

Travis' POV:

I punched him...

Holy shit...

After that, I just walked away. I couldn't let anyone see my fucking sinning face. I went to the bathroom and locked myself in a stall. I tried to hold them back, but I ended up crying like the failure I am...

I stayed quiet, now and then a small sob would escape. After a few minutes, I heard footsteps and wiped my eyes. "Someone in here?" a sweet voice asked.

I recognized it.

Sal...

"No shit, get out."

"Are you okay?"

"What do you think!?"

"...Why do you hate me so much...?"

"Because you and your friends are a bunch of fags! God will never love you, why should I?"

"Y'know, we're not all gay. Except for me and Todd, were super gay."

"...I don't really hate you...or your friends..."

"I didn't think so..."

"..."

"Hey, if you ever want to, y'know, hang out or get away from your dad, you could hang out with me."

"..."

"Just, think about it and let me know. If you ever need anybody to talk to, I'm always here for you. I will never turn you down, my door is always open."

"Thanks..."

"No problem!"

"But, why are you being so nice to me?"

"I don't think you're a bad guy, Travis. Under all that anger, I think there's a good dude who's afraid to be himself."

"You're wrong..."

"What?"

"You're wrong. I am of nothing good. I am a sinner. I am a failure..."

"Travis, don't say that. You aren't any of those things. If I thought so, I wouldn't be here."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Thanks, Sally face..."

"Of course, Travis."

"Hey, um."

"Yeah?"

"It's just...Mrs. Packerton said I needed some tutoring. Do you...know anyone who could...?"

"I could!"

"You?"

"Yeah, if that's okay with you. We don't have to be friends, but I wouldn't mind helping."

"Are you sure? I mean, after what just happened, I didn't think you'd even consider me human."

"Travis, we can be friends...we don't have to be enemies..."

"..."

"Are you free after school? We could start today."

"Yea...I'll have to...sneak out..."

'Oh, no. You don't have to. I could go over to your house! Or we could meet at the park or something. I don't want to get you in trouble."

"Why the hell are you so fucking nice?"

"I...I don't know..."

"..."

"Well, I live in Addison Apartments. Stop by if you want..."

"..."

I felt my eyes tear up again. They wouldn't stop and I didn't put in an effort to make them. Footsteps erupted from in front of the stall and then the bathroom door slammed shut and I heard the bell ring. It was time for class.

I opened the stall and snatched my backpack from the floor. "Shit..." I muttered, running as fast as I could to my next class.

Once I arrived, I sat in the back and pulled out my book. It was about space. I stole it off my dad's shelf, I wanted to read something other than the Bible. He would've killed me if he found out, whatever. Not like he reads these anyways. Just for display.

Just like our family...

Display...

*Time Skip*

I went to my 4th class. This one I had with Sally...That fucking freak. Weird ass blue hair, I never even saw any brown spots at his roots. Was it natural? Weird... And he always wore his hair super feminine. Whether it was in pigtails, ponytails, or space buns, it was feminine. His eyes always shone through his mask. They were the same color as his hair, too.

Baby blue...

They could practically see through me. That's what it felt like, at least, when he looked at me. They were kind of pretty. Actually, I think one of them is fake. When he rolls his eyes at me, only one rolls. The other one stays in place, maybe shift a little. His piercings were kinda cool, too.

He had his cartilage pierced. I think he did all his piercings at home because he had a safety pin through it with a little dried blood. He wasn't a pussy, I could give him that.

"Mr. Phelps, please read the next paragraph for us." The teacher called out, snapping me out of my trance.

I hadn't noticed, but I was staring at Sal. "Uh, yea." I said, finding where we were and continue the article. After I finished, the class grew silent, and I looked around. I noticed Sal staring at me and I quickly looked away. "Mr. Fisher, staring isn't polite. Please turn around." the teacher rhetorically asked. "Yes, sir..." Sal answered, turning back around and looking down at his textbook.

"Alright, for the homework tonight, you are all required to read the rest of the section and write a summary with at least 4 paragraphs and 5 sentences in each. Thank you and see you all tomorrow." he said, allowing us to leave. "Mr. Phelps and Mr. Fisher, do you mind staying back?" he called, standing by the door.

Sal and I shared a look of confusion before waiting with the teacher until everyone else left. After everyone was gone, he started to talk to us. "I have the understanding that one of you is exceptionally gifted in mat but not so much in literature. The other one is the opposite. I recommend that you two tutor and help each other for your own sake. Finals are coming up and I want you all to pass. Please consider this. I don't want to hold either of you back..." the teacher offered, suggesting that we take his advice.

"Now, I'll write you two some passes, and you can get going." he informed, clapping his hands to signify the end of the conversation. Sal nodded and I stayed still, tapping my foot. He finished the passes and sent us on our way.

After getting to my next class, I sat in an empty seat and started reading. "Mr. Phelps, could you please tell the class what has piqued your interest so?" My teacher said, crossing her arms and scowling. "Um...just this book..." I answered, closing the book and putting it on my desk.

"Hmm..." she irritably said, turning back around and finishing her examples. After that class, I finished my next with no interruptions.

I walked out of the class and to my locker. After grabbing my things, I closed it and started to walk away before someone grabbed me by the back of my shirt. I was yanked to the ground and looked up to see Larry Johnson standing above me. "The fuck do you want?!" I yelled, squirming a little. "You wanna pick fights? Huh? You wanna pick fights with Sal, do you? See It doesn't feel good when someone bigger than you pick on you, does it?" he jeered, smiling wildly.

"Larry! What the hell?!" A voice yelled.

Sal...

"What the fuck are you doing to him?" Sal asked, grabbing Larry by the back of his shirt and yanking him off me. When they fell on the floor, Larry fell on top of Sal. Larry was pinning Sal down.

I'm not sure why, but that pushed me over the edge. I got up and threw my biggest textbook at Larry's face. "Fuck you, asshole!" I screamed, watching as blood trickled out of his nose and onto his shirt.

"What the hell, man?!" he yelled back, holding back tears.

I walked away after that...

(Originally posted on May 15th 2023 on Wattpad)

"Church Boy." - Offer - Wattpad

#sally face #travis phelps #salvis #larry johnson #part four #ashley campbell #fanfic #fanfiction #steve gabry #first person #sfw #angsty #wattpad original

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companionwolf · 1 year

Text

pride month drabble challenge fill #2

prompts: 10. Asexual + 16. Now + 14. "Do you think there's something wrong with me?"

fandom: xcom 2 (gen verse)

TWs/CWs: none

It is June 6th, 2035, and the Commander's heart hurts.

Some of the crew have brought back the tradition of Pride Month, have made flags and hung them around the Avenger, Central helping remind them of what order and what colors go on each.

They're missing...

They're missing some flags, the Commander has noticed, and they want to bring it up, because the absence aches, but it feels...

Their chest tightens.

The Commander takes a long breath, reorient the themselves to where they sit at the bar, staring into a drink.

Other crew members, mostly soldiers, hang out around them-- Kelly is flirting with Outrider, which seems to be going well as far as they can see.

The Commander moves to twist a black ring they no longer have, swallows hard.

"Hey," says a voice across the bar. They look toward it. Central is leaning on the salvaged bar, eyeing their drink. "You gonna finish that?"

The Commander frowns at him. "It's mostly diluted with water," they say. "You wouldn't want it, the way that it is."

You wouldn't want me either, the way that I am, they think bitterly. The way I'll always be.

It's Central's turn to shrug. He pulls a bottle from somewhere behind him and doesn't even mess with a glass, just drinks from the source. The Commander frowns again, but stays quiet.

"You seem pretty somber tonight," says Central, leaning over toward them again. "What's up?"

The Commander hesitates.

"I think it'd be easier to show you," they say to him finally as they get up and head toward the door. Central follows.

They take him to the armory, where a lot of the pride flags are hung amongst the shelves. There's a rainbow flag, a lesbian one, a bi flag (Central sew that one himself), a transgender flag...

"We're missing some," the Commander says, almost so quiet they think he won't hear, that they don't want him to.

Central studies the flags.

"Uhh, a nonbinary one is missing, yeah," he agrees. "And genderqueer. And pan."

The Commander tries to steel themselves. What are they afraid of? That he'll say they're not part of the community?

"Ace," they say. It's a whisper.

Central blinks, confused.

"Asexual?" the Commander offers. "Meaning no sexual attraction." They go to twist the ring that isn't there again, feel their face crumple up, try to hide it. "It's--- I'm ace. I noticed my flag wasn't there."

Central looks slightly more like he understands but only just.

"And you felt left out," he says. They nod miserably.

Silence stretches between them. Then, the Commander manages: "Do you think there's something wrong with me?"

Their XO shakes his head. "If there is," he says, "then there's something wrong with me too."

"You're ace?" And there it is, they're crying now. "Really?"

"I mean that'd explain a lot for me," Central says. "But I, uh, you know, so maybe not..."

They shake their head at him through their tears. "It just means no attraction, not that we can't have sex," they say. "A lot of us are repulsed, or indifferent, but you can do whatever and be ace too."

"Then that makes a lot of my life make way more sense," Central says. "C'mon then, let's go get stuff to make a flag-- I'll teach you how to sew so you can help me work on it."

The Commander nods, wiping their wet eyes on the back of their wrists. They're smiling so hard it hurts. "You're really like me?" It's less a question asked, more of a exhale of joy, of relief. "You're really like me."

Central gives them a smile.

"Yeah," he says, "I'm like you."

And the Commander's heart sings.

#wolf barking #hello commander #tailstrokes #pride month drabble challenge #not quite entirely haply w this one but here

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pricegouge · 3 months

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hello hello, have an emoji! 🎁

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

hi hi and thanks!

hm, what i'm mostly working on rn is from another fandom so i won't post here, and I already posted a snippet from my next cod fic here...

so have a snippet of a mostly abandoned free use cleaning maid one shot! dub con below

"No trouble, pet." Captain Price's smile is warm, but his tone is far too dark to be strictly friendly. "We're nearly done now anyway. C'mon in."

Unfortunately, Price pretends the same, carries on about exfil strategies you're pretty sure you could even puzzle out just having watched your share of action movies. Emboldened, MacTavish pops a button and you feel half the eyes in the room slide to you. It's not exactly a bad feeling, this, just one that's taken some getting used to. Garrick is the next to crack, predictable. He murmurs a quiet 'C'mere, lovie,' and hooks a finger into your belt loop, maneuvering you to stand between him and his fellow sergeant. You oblige, hold your dusting rag awkwardly until Ghost (just Ghost - you were too afraid to contradict him) leans across the table to tap at the area in front of you and you get to work. It's the wrong cleaning agent for the material, but you're not about to say anything about wood right now, thank you, not with MacTavish humming appreciatively at the view of your ass he gets when you bend to do your job.

#asks #💷🔪

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fae-papercuts · 24 days

Text

Community Spirit

Everyone in Ferria knew not to go out after dark.

When it was dark, the streets belonged to the monster.

Every day was filled with light. Filled with the sounds of delight and entertainment, and the lively noises of village life. The hammering of the forge, the tilling of the fields, the soft sounds of spinning and weaving. The gentle murmur of the marketplace, and raucous laughter from the inn. Music and games, dances and village meetings - all the things that brought joy to the heart of the villagers.

But everyone in Ferria knew not to go out after dark.

When the sun began to set, the people would close down their market stalls, put away their work, douse the forges, and wave goodnight to their neighbours. They carried in their crops, put their livestock in their shelters, and lit their lanterns with as much cheer as they went about the rest of their day. Candles would light the windows of every house, while outside grew quiet and still. You might think that they would scurry home in the last light of day, wary and afraid. But you would be wrong.

Because everyone in Ferria knew not to go out after dark.

Sometimes the children would wake in the night to a sound by their window. Perhaps rasping breathing, or low growls. Perhaps thudding footsteps or the dragging of something big and heavy. Perhaps the rough vibrations of something large rubbing against their wall. The youngest children would race to their parent's beds, and leap under the covers in fear. Their parents would wake, bleary-eyed, and hold them close, whispering gentle comfort as they embraced them. "Do not worry, sweet little one, it's just the monster. We're safe, it's alright."

Sometimes adults who stayed up late, reading by candlelight, or playing games with dice and cards would pause at those same sounds, glance at their windows for a moment, then chuckle. "Just the monster taking a turn around the garden," they would say to each other, before the rattling of dice and the soft conversation filled the room again.

You see, everyone in Ferria knew not to go out after dark.

In the morning, they would rouse slowly from their sweet dreams, rising alone or in families to begin the day anew. They brushed their hair, dressed themselves, and those too young or old to dress themselves, then got back to doing what brought them the joys of living. Cattle were returned to the field, mooing their delight at the clouds. The shepherds went out into the fields to count their flock and seek out any who had wandered. Wolves never took any of the animals the villagers relied upon, even the sheep that slept out on the hillside like clumps of mist clinging to the grass.

After all, everyone in Ferria knew not to go out after dark.

No wolves ever troubled the sheep, no bears bothered the villagers who foraged in the woods, and no bandits were to be found for miles around the little village nestled comfortably in the hills. Most of the villagers thought little of this, not knowing much of life beyond the peaceful countryside. Occasionally someone would pass through and remark at the absence of such troubles.

Someone would always reply, "Well, that's because everyone in Ferria knows not to go out after dark."

From time to time, a youth would take a trip to the big city. An adventure to learn new skills, to see new sights, to meet new people. When they returned from these trips they might ask why it was that the world beyond was so rife with struggles very unlike those the village experienced. The elders of the village would smile and ask them if the people in the city knew not to go out after dark.

Some of those young people were unhappy with this reply, though. They knew there was more to it than that, and perhaps they didn't pick up on what was really being said. So the elders would sit them down and explain, always patiently, always kindly. They would tell their young friends, in soft voices and plain words, that the monster kept them safe. Yes, that same monster that their parents had told them about as children, and who could still be heard roving the streets to this day. Yes, the monster no-one ever talked about, not really, because what was there to say?

No, one-one ever seemed to be able to agree what it looked like, or how it sounded. No, no-one knew where it lived or what it did during the day. No, they didn't want the curious youngster to try finding anything else out about it. Calm down, drink your ale, eat your sandwich, and take a moment to really think it through.

Because all the people of Ferria really needed to know was not to go out after dark.

So, no brigands or great beasts troubled the villagers. But every now and then, they would have to deal with a hero.

Heroes would turn up, usually alone, sometimes with little parties of followers and helpers. The most unbearable were the knights, with their fancy horses, silly armour, and squires racing to tend to their every whim. The villagers would roll their eyes at their approach, and argue about who should deal with the newcomer. Eventually one of the more robust villagers would find themselves volunteering, or volunteered, to greet the strange band of clanking people, or the lone, grizzled figure carrying too many weapons to be practical.

All of these heroes came for one reason. After all, Ferria wasn't on the way to anywhere important, or famed for any particularly skilled workers or sages that might be worth making the trip for. Every single hero came to slay their monster.

They all wanted to know where the monster could be found; but there was no answer to that. They all wanted to know who it's last victim was; but there was no answer to that. They all wanted to know what kind of beast it was; but there was no answer to that either. So many questions, always without answer. Almost all of the heroes would be angered by this, and go off to sulk and brood before nightfall would bring out the monster.

Very, very occasionally, though, a hero would listen and be curious. They would ask more questions, carefully, cautiously. They would seek out the elders and ask them yet more questions - or the same questions, just to be sure the answers were the same. And they would leave well before nightfall, or spend the night at the inn before heading home the next morning.

Because after speaking to the people of Ferria, they knew not to go out after dark.

But usually, the villagers didn't get to relax and sigh out their relief. Instead the hero would set themselves up in the marketplace, being dutifully ignored by all the people working their stalls, or buying their fresh food and hand-crafted wares. The people would pack up at the end of the day, as the sun lowered in the sky, occasionally glancing at the shining knight or grubby mercenary who waited for the sunset. They would scurry home, no-one wanting to talk to the stranger who had set their mind on violence.

If the hero had been polite and kind, perhaps someone might pause on their way home and try one last time, inviting the fighter to stay with them, to stay safe and not invite the trouble they were seeking. That never worked, but sometimes someone felt they had to try. But then they would head home alone and behind dozens of locked doors the villagers would rest uneasily in their beds. No games would be played, no books read by candlelight. They spoke quietly to each other, and reassured their families that it would all be ok by morning.

On those days especially, everyone in Ferria knew not to go out after dark.

They might catch sounds of battle through their latched windows and closed shutters. More children than usual might rush to their parents beds, to have hands held over their ears and be rocked back to sleep. There was the bang and clatter of blades, the crash of heavy things hitting fences and walls, the screams of pain in human and inhuman tongues. No-one in Ferria would sleep well that night.

So when morning came, they would rise sleepily from their beds. One by one doors would open, and faces peer out cautiously. Then doors would shut again, one by one. Eventually, someone steps outside with a bucket, mop, apron and gloves, to begin the morning's work. The scattered body parts and scraps of armour were picked up, one at a time, and dropped into the bucket. Someone else would join the work after a while, perhaps after the most gruesome scraps were dealt with. Weapons were found in bushes, tattered strips of clothing stained with blood pulled off walls and out of trees, and the pools of blood were mopped up, buried, or turned over into the mud. It never took as long as it seemed it should, and soon enough the rest of the villagers would come outside to fix fences, patch up walls, and set up the market stalls for the day.

A few of the people of Ferria would gather together the remains of the ill-fated heroes, and take them to the graveyard behind the village. A hole would be made in the soft dirt, which accepted the buckets of flesh with ease. Dirt was piled back in, but no headstone placed atop it. Someone might say a few words if the hero had seemed at least passingly pleasant to the villagers, and perhaps a tear or two were shed by the young, who had not seen this happen before. Then they would depart together, go home to clean themselves up, and get back to living the life they always had.

After those kinds of days, the villagers may haggle more grumpily over prices in the market. They might argue over little things with their neighbours, and be sterner with their children. The sadness and frustration at the senseless waste of life, and the disruption to their happy lives, had to come out somewhere, after all. Some people would drink a little more in the inn that day.

These weren't the only days when someone would drink a little too much, of course. Perhaps a child had gone to town and their parents drowned their sadness at missing them, after a while. Perhaps a heart was broken, young or old, and they wept into their cups despite the comfort offered by their friends. Maybe a wedding was followed by raucous revelry, and one of the party supped a little too deeply on the celebratory wine.

On days like these, the intoxicated were mostly helped home by their fellows. But sometimes the drunkard would refuse to go home before dark. Or perhaps they insisted they were fine, only to be turned around in their stupor, wandering the streets mumbling and stumbling as the sun dropped below the horizon. The lights from shuttered windows casting just enough light to make the familiar roads unfamiliar to the addled mind, and confusing the wayward villager. Sometimes the inebriated soul would sit atop a wall, or plant themselves in the street, drink still in hand, obliviously singing to themselves as the light faded. Maybe they would stamp about, ranting at nothing, angry at the world, until they fell onto the cobbles. Eventually, they always fell asleep somewhere, the slumber taking away their sorrow, their anger or their joy.

The next morning, their neighbours would wake as usual, and step outside to smile in the morning sun. Glancing to the next house along the road, they may sigh, and head over carefully - stepping over the drag marks in their garden, and pushing open the unlocked door. They always carefully ignored the scratches on the doorposts, and the claw marks in the hallway floor. They would peek their head around the bedroom doorway, whether the door remained on it's hinges or not.

With an amused chuckle, they would leave their neighbour to sleep off their over-indulgence. Flopped awkwardly on their bed and snoring peacefully, the drunkard would later have to figure out for themselves what they needed the carpenter to fix, and if the tailor would have any trade from mending rips in their clothes.

After all, everyone in Ferria knew not to go out after dark.

#short fiction #short story #fantasy #monster #Everyone in Ferria knew not to go out after dark #community #village #subverting expectations #fae papercuts original

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casspurrjoybell-24 · 1 month

Text

The Alpha's Boy - Chapter 4 - Part 1

Book Two In : The Alpha's Trilogy

*Warning Adult Content*

Alistair 'Star' Claymore-Phoenix

My heart started to race when the familiar scent and face started to register in my half-awake brain and then the real panic started to set in.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Darren's voice bombed in my head.

He got off of me and I rolled over giving my head a quick shake.

"Shift," he demanded and I let out a soft whine.

"Nah, you know. I'm good. I just wanted to get some air. I'll follow you back."

But Darren wasn't having that and he was standing in his human form within seconds, his arms crossed as he glared down towards me.

"I said shift," he wasn't asking, so I huffed, my body aching as it shifted from one form to the other.

I looked at Darren, our eyes meeting for a split second before I had to look away.

I knew though, as soon as he saw me he'd know and that would be it.

He didn't say anything, just shook his head and started walking back towards the house and I followed, knowing damn well that if I didn't I was dead meat.

The walk to the house was deathly quiet.

He didn't look back, he stayed looking forward, he didn't say a word to anyone, not me, not the guards we passed as we walked into the town.

My stomach was in knots and all I could think about was how much trouble I was about to be in.

I didn't have a will.

How would anyone know I wanted to leave Ivan my comic book collection without a will?

Patty called dibs on it years ago, we were fucked if I died without setting that straight.

Darren opened the back door to the house and I grabbed my clothes, shoving my pants and shirt on before walking into the door that he held open.

I winced as he slammed it shut behind me.

"Silas," he called out and only a second later was dad down the stairs, looking bewildered as his eyes fell on us both.

Darren pulled a chair out and gestured for me to sit down while he walked over to a nearby basket that we kept at both doors, grabbing a pair of jogging pants because even though we had no issues with being naked around one another.

Having a conversation without your clothes on was a little strange.

"What did you take."

'Nothing,' I signed back.

"What. Did. You. Take."

I wanted to shrink away, wanted to hide.

Silas shook his head as he walked across the kitchen, flicking the kettle on, indicating it was going to be a long night.

"This can't keep happening," Darren said after I waited too long to reply.

"You're leaving us with no choice."

I looked at them both, confused as to what he meant, Silas just sighed.

"We can't lock him away forever Darren."

'Dad...'

"My grandparents own a farm up North."

'No.'

"It's for the best."

'No.'

"I can have Ellis and Jeremy take turns watching the twins for a few nights."

I stood up, my mouth forming the words no but no words came out.

The chair that I sat in hit the ground behind me as my arms and legs shook.

'You can't do this. I'm an adult. I'm nineteen for fuck sakes.'

"Teen, Nineteen. You're a child, you're our child and if you want to stay under our roof, you need to clean yourself up and I'm afraid this may be the only way," Darren started.

"We're doing this to help you Star, not hurt you."

'I'm not your child. You're not my parents.'

It was wrong, I shouldn't have said it, not something that would cut them that deep in anger.

They didn't show it but the way they both paused told me they heard it, loud and clear but I stood my ground and went to walk past them, but Darren grabbed my arm as I did.

"We leave in two nights. Start packing your things."

I yanked my arm away, elbowing him as I walked out, making my way to my bedroom with hot, angry tears stinging my eyes.

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figurantedefilme · 3 months

Text

where are you taking me? — two

pairing: sam winchester × fem!reader

genre: fluff, a little angst

warnings: none, just a little bit of sadness

summary: after remembering how you met Sam, you reached the part of your diary that recounted when he left your life.

a/n: use of y/n (english isn't my first language, so there may be some grammar errors.)

all parts

“Dear Diary,

Today marks exactly one month since I met Samuel. I know it's been weeks since I last updated you, but I have procrastinated so much since then to write this part of my life story, which makes me so sad right now. But I think maybe writing about it will help me get over it.

This Monday marked two weeks since we first met in the classroom, but Sam was acting very strange. On the bus ride to school, he didn't sit next to me, and I was starting to get paranoid, wondering if I had done something wrong or if I smelled bad. I don't know, I really thought of all possible alternatives.

When we got to school, I went straight to the classroom, but Sam simply vanished from my sight. Later, he arrived late to our first class, and his hair was wet.

When we finally met to talk at lunchtime, it was as if nothing had happened, so I let it go, since he hadn't mentioned it. Our day went on like all the others, until it was time to catch the bus home. He sat next to me this time, but he was very quiet, more than usual, and he also seemed sad.

The bus stopped at our stop, we got off, and sit on the bench, as always, but he remained quiet, not even looking at me. So I decided to break the silence and bring up the issue, which was really bothering me.

"What's wrong, Sammy?" When I said that, he looked deep into my eyes, with a melancholic expression, and said, "Sammy?"

I hadn't even realized it, but I had never called him that. In fact, he once told me that his brother sometimes called him that, and he didn't like the nickname. I felt bad when I realized, so I tried to apologize. "Oh my God, I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that, I'm really sorry."

Then he smiled and said, "It's okay, calm down, you don't need to apologize, actually I liked it coming from you."

And I realized he hadn't answered my question, so I insisted. "But seriously, what's wrong? Earlier you sit away from me on the bus, and I got paranoid thinking I had done something wrong. Then you simply disappeared and arrived late to class, for some reason with wet hair. Then you pretended nothing happened and I decided not to bring it up, but now you're acting super strange again, and you seem really sad too. You know you can trust me. Whatever is happening, you can tell me."

I said and smiled a sincere smile, trying to show that I was really there and would listen to him, and try to help.

Then he lifted his head, looked at me, and started to talk. "I'm sorry for giving you that impression. Remember I told you my dad is working on something in the neighboring town, and that he spent the whole day out and only came back at night to the motel? I lied. Actually, he gave me some money and left me there alone. The money only covered two weeks of lodging, and I spent the rest on laundry and some things I needed to buy. My dad is staying at some motel by the roadside with my brother, and I can't call him unless it's a life-or-death situation. Last night I slept here on this bench, and today on the bus I didn't sit near you because I was afraid of smelling bad and you noticing." Then he gave an awkward laugh. "I was late because I went to the locker room to take a shower and brush my teeth, that's why my hair was wet. Afterward, I even felt okay being near you, but now that we're here, all my problems came back to my mind, and I really don't know what to do." After saying all that, he lowered his head again.

"Oh my God, how is this not a life-or-death situation? You could have been robbed, or kidnapped, or gotten hypothermia, I don't know." I said showing the maximum indignation possible.

"It's about my dad, and his work, it's complicated." Sam said, still with his head down.

"Alright then, let's go." I said, grabbed his hand, and started dragging him along the path and around the corner.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To my house. Didn't you say you have to leave here in a few days? You can stay there for a while, my dad only comes back on my birthday, and that's in two weeks."

"Are you sure about this? I don't know if it's a good idea, I think I'd rather stay on the bus stop bench."

"I'm absolutely sure. I'm not going to let you die of hypothermia on the street at night, and it's okay, it's just a few days." Then we arrived at my house, I unlocked the door, and showed him around.

We had dinner with something I had prepared yesterday, and then we got ready for bed.

"Look, I don't have a mattress, but I have several blankets you can sleep on. Is that okay with you?"

"That's fine, much better than the bus stop bench." He said looking at me and giving a somewhat embarrassed smile.

"Then, good night." I said and turned off the lamp.

"Good night."

In the middle of the night, I had to go to the bathroom, so I got up and went to the hallway bathroom. When I came back, I saw that Sam was shivering with cold, and when I touched him, he was burning with fever.

"Sammy, wake up." I said while nudging his shoulder.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He said sitting up on the blankets, a bit dazed.

"You're burning with fever, how are you feeling?" I said, really worried about him.

"I'm cold and very tired, but it must be nothing, go lie down. We have to get up early for school tomorrow." As he said this, he was lying down again.

"No way, I'm going to get the thermometer downstairs, make some tea, and get you some medicine. And get up from there, and lie down in the bed." I said holding his hand to help him up.

"Seriously, you don't need to, I'm just tired, I just need to sleep."

"Sam, if you don't lie down in this bed, I won't be able to sleep being worried about you, and you don't want that, do you?"

"No. Alright, I'll lie down if you go to sleep soon."

So he lay down in my bed. It was big, so it would easily fit both of us. I covered him with my blankets, went downstairs to the kitchen, made the tea, got the medicine, and the thermometer.

"38.6. And you say it's nothing." I said looking at the thermometer in my hand. "Take the medicine with the tea, and rest."

"Okay, I'll take it." He took the medicine with the tea, then handed me the mug and lay down again.

I went downstairs, put the cup in the sink, and went back to the room. I lay down next to him and turned off the lamp.

"Thank you," he said in a low tone, almost whispering.

"For what? For having basic human empathy? It was nothing, I just want you to be okay." I said looking into his eyes and brushing his hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear.

"It's not just basic human empathy. You gave me a place to sleep, even let me have your soft bed and you're taking care of me, really, thank you. I think I've never had anyone like that in my life, except my brother." He said and closed his eyes.

"I warned you it wasn't a good idea to sleep on the street, even if only for one night. And I also think I've never had anyone like you in my entire life." I said, kissed his forehead, hugged him, and fell asleep."

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