#i pulled this round back from the brink of death i am a god

[beneathsilverstars]

who do you think you are i am!!!!

[lych33dragoncookie]

Ok so about yesterday's post, I'm rly rly grateful for all the attention n feedback, I'm glad ppl resonate with my analysis stuff and that they're happy to find someone who understands the characters, buuuuut Since it's my most critical post till now it's garnered a few counterpoints that I kinda wanna address.

The first one, and the one that I understand the most; the people that were telling me to not lose hope and that they could do something more with this.

I... Appreciate the optimism! I really do, and if you believe this then obviously I hold no ill will towards you and if you can keep looking on the bright side then more power to you, but... Really, I think the moment and the chance have already passed, unfortunately.

Yes, I am genuinely saying that, unless they pull a miracle, whatever they do next is just... Not going to land. Definitely not as well as it would have to have a better ending to the story we got.

Here's the main thing, really. For one... What is Burning Spice even gonna do to get one over Golden Cheese again? He's already just about entirely outmatched, and so anything they do next is just gonna feel like a repeat of what they already did in this update. Though more importantly, I'm concerned with the fact that they can't really do this again, we just saw Golden Cheese at her lowest point, actually on the brink of death, more heavily damaged than we've ever seen anyone in this entire franchise, we got extra development for both her and Smoked Cheese, and the Spice Army is kind of just... Not there anymore. No one other than Nutmeg Tiger really has any faith in Burning Spice anymore. The setting, the stakes, the characters, everything that made this story hold up (until its god awful ending) isn't repeatable, not without making it feel like we're just doing the same thing again. They can't match the sheer level of visceral brutality either, not only because again the setting is gone but also because it really won't hit anywhere near as hard the second time around, and even they have limits for how far they're willing to go with it.

That's just kind of the thing. The one thing that makes me so mad about how much this ending sucked. This entire story is one of a kind, you can't do this again, because if you try, then it's not gonna hit anywhere near as hard the second time around. Hell, it'd be the third time we've seen Golden Cheese in a low spot that she ends up pulling through and recovering from, and the second time (with Burning Spice) was so much more extreme than the first one which is part of what made it work, you can't do that again.

The framing isn't replicable. The active contrast between the two primary characters, the brutality and viscerality of it all, the active rejection of Burning Spice's ideals in a golden blaze of glory, the reinforcement of Golden Cheese's will through an adversary completely opposite to her, it can't happen again. This is why you don't fumble a story like this, because once you've shot the round, it's spent. There's no getting it back. If you miss the shot, no matter how potent the weapon, it won't do anything, and there's no getting that shot back. Specially because, like... Are we forgetting that we're not done with Golden Cheese here? Why waste more time on retreading ground that we already covered with her encounter against Burning Spice, when instead it would be much better spent later on focusing on her relationship with White Lily, and how she handles the whole Dark Enchantress situation? Sure, I have no doubt all the beasts are gonna come back, but I really, really don't see them getting entire stories dedicated to each and every single one again, specially involving their respective ancients, because... They've. Already lost. And if you try to set up the same matchups, it's just gonna feel like doing the same thing all over again. If/when they come back, it's most likely gonna be more short-form, akin more to a boss rush, I'd imagine, because the alternative is... What, exactly? Just doing their chapters again? A second time? For each one? It just feels really weird to think about, honestly.

Just... Everything here. Every bit of it. Every bit of narrative paralleling with Golden Cheese, Smoked Cheese, Nutmeg Tiger, Burning Spice and both of the respective kingdoms/armies, it was all contained in this arc, and you can't just do the same thing all over again, specially when the thing you've got set up next for Golden Cheese is a meeting with White Lily. Unless you plan to have Silent Salt and Burning Spice team up for a 2v2 against White Lily and Golden Cheese or... Something..? Completely taking away from the 1v1 fated duel kinda thing they've had going on this entire time..? I dunno, man. I don't see how they could salvage this. They had their chance, and they wasted it. Like sand, slipping through their fingertips.

Alright, that's the big one out of the way. I saw the comments and RBs bring up a few other points, so I'll address those now.

The first one, with someone posing the idea that she did take Burning Spice's Soul Jam, and that's why hers' changed color.

... What?

That's... That's not shown. Ever. Sure, you have an animation of her soul jam going over Spice's and eclipsing it, but... That's. Kind of it? It's never implied at all, and worse yet, it's directly contradicted by the fact Spice still has his Soul Jam. Like. It's right there. You can see it.

You could say maybe it's just a case of reusing assets, that they wouldn't make a whole new asset just for this one cutscene, but, uh... ... They did. It's this one.

It shows up in absolutely no other cutscene, only the one where he's about to get smacked by Golden Cheese. If his soul jam was taken not only would we have seen it (like we did both times it's happened to the Ancients), not only would he have probably noticed because that is very much a material object, but we would have seen it, like we do when both GC and Dark Cacao's soul jams are gone. So, no, he absolutely still has it. Undeniably so. You can't take someone's soul jam power without physically taking it, at least not that we've seen.

Secondly, a few comments/tags saying that it makes sense for Nutmeg Tiger to go back to Burning Spice after his defeat.

... I mean... Yeah, I guess? Technically?

It's... Not out of character. She is obsessive, absolutely to a fault, and she is incredibly stubborn. My main complain isn't that it makes no sense, and more that it's a bit of a wasted opportunity. More specifically, the fact that she went back to him with nothing about either of them having changed at all. It would have been super interesting to see how she'd react to seeing her god rendered powerless, to have him lash out at her despite her loyalty to him, to have Burning Spice's hostility and complete lack of care catch up to him and end up isolating him from absolutely everyone who served under him. To have her conversation with Smoked Cheese to be proven tangibly true, proving that yes, he would just discard her the moment she stops being useful. And, the best part? You get to keep her alive to have her process everything that just happened! Because, guess what, Burning Spice lacks basically all his power now, meaning he can't just kill her on the spot! Hell, if you really, really wanted to have a villain for a followup update, it could be Nutmeg Tiger, disillusioned with her former god's promises, deciding she'd find a way to become the next great destroyer, or something like that. Maybe she'd try to find someone else to serve instead to give her life some sort of purpose? Who knows! There's so many options you could go with, rather than just... Resetting everything back to where we started.

Really, this part of the whole thing is the least of my concerns. She's not the biggest player in this update, but I think she would have benefited heavily from the "Burning Spice gets his Soul Jam taken away" route in terms of potential development. Alas... There's a good chance we'll never get to know what that would have even looked like.

Thirdly and lastly;

The argument that it wouldn't be in character for Golden Cheese to give Burning Spice another chance.

Okay, this is somewhat minor. I need to emphasize; when I gave that hypothetical scenario at the end of the last post, I meant it as like... A long term thing. Not something to happen within the chapter itself. Besides, it's just one of many paths you could go with a jamless Spice.

... I'm still holding my ground on it, though.

See... We've got to remember here: Burning Spice's immortality is the exact thing that got him here. Take that away, and what do you get? A large man with anger issues and no special powers; and absolutely no one to cover for the newfound weaknesses of a mortal, since he's alienated and wronged absolutely everyone loyal to him. Not the Kulfis, or Nutmeg Tiger, or any of the spicelings would be left to help him. He'd be on his own, entirely. Why would Golden Cheese ever even consider helping him in any way, you may ask? After all he did, after all the bloodshed, physical pain induced, and complete lack of remorse for any of his actions?

Simple. For the same reasons she gave Smoked Cheese and White Lily another chance.

The latter specially! At the end of the latest Beast Yeast chapter, Golden Cheese decided she's ready to talk to White Lily. White Lily, who, as far as she and everyone else is aware, is pretty much responsible for her kingdom being reduced to nothing but ash and crumbs. Of course, on an objective level, White Lily is much more understandable, specially since she now exists as a separate person from Dark Enchantress, but... In the end, does it matter? Are the actions themselves any different? No, not really. The level of destruction and decay are still the exact same.

The main difference is, while White Lily would at most be hesitant to accept forgiveness and feel really really bad (like mortifyingly bad) about what Dark Enchantress did, Burning Spice wouldn't be interested in such a thing.

And, honestly? I feel like Golden Cheese would know this. And, at first, she'd have absolutely no interest in actually helping him. To me, she'd occasionally visit to see how he's faring, how this oh-so-powerful god of destruction is doing now that he's just a powerless little commoner, a mortal like all the rest, teasing him, finding entertainment in his position, while he can't do anything about it. She gave him the mercy of life, but that doesn't mean she's not gonna be a little shit about it and have her fun. And he can't do anything about it, either! Truly, eternal torture. Powerless, mocked by your enemy, made to feel small, denied the satisfaction of a proper fight or a warrior's death... Lol, get fucked idiot.

Eventually, it would probably turn into teasing him about how her kingdom is shaping up quite nicely, how happy everyone there is, how it's such a shame that his short-sighted and hostile nature prevented him from ever knowing such comfort and luxury, how instead he's here fighting for his life in the land that he once ruled.

And then idk he almost gets himself killed in the middle of a spice storm or something and she refuses to give him the satisfaction of a quick death so she drags his sorry ass off to safety much to his absolute livid rage and idk you know where this kinda thing goes. Both parties here hate each other. But I feel like sooner or later, it could grow into a very begrudging living agreement where he works for her, day in and day out, to make up for everything he did, and as payment for being given somewhere to stay. A destroyer, helping to rebuild and elevate a civilization he was so intent on destroying, how ironic is that?

And then yuri or something idk. That part is optional I just like the idea.

... Can you tell I'm a Dragon Ball fan? I'm all too used to absurdly evil villains getting another chance and becoming either significantly less dangerous or outright good.

Yes, I'm looking at you, Vegeta. You may not have killed a single earthling, but you did almost directly cause the death of 4. And then over time, through many, many humiliations, and finding yourself a woman who can somehow handle how much of an arrogant cocky bastard you are, with a temper matching or surpassing your own, you settled down and built something infinitely better than what you had when you exerted your power over those under you. Seriously, watch Dragon Ball Z, it's really good. It somehow makes a redemption arc for a guy who's blown up planets feel genuinely believable and engaging.

... Right, Cookie Run.

Yeah, I think it would be perfectly in character for GC to refuse Burning Spice the warrior's death he so desperately wanted (you know finding something that can destroy him), take his soul jam, and after a good while of having fun with watching him flounder about as a mortal, drag his ass over to her kingdom to work for her to compensate for all the shit he's done. And it would be infinitely more interesting than what they actually ended up doing.

And... I think that's it!

I think that covers everything I wanted to say regarding my last post on the update. This is probably the last I'll have to say about it of my own accord, though you can definitely continue the conversation through asks (Always open!). I'm still really mad at how bad they fumbled, but...

Hey, that's what fan-fixing is for, isn't it? This ending may have sucked, but don't let that prevent you from making a better one yourself, through whatever your medium of preference is. Go ham. Because there's a good chance whatever you have in mind is infinitely better than whatever the hell they're planning to do next with Burning Spice.

Go absolutely nuts. I'll be watching on, and potentially participating, if writing motivation ever strikes.

Cya'll.

[babytaes]

†hê Ðêmðñ (the beauty of sin)

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You're a guardian angel who's never been tasked with protecting anyone. Since you've been here since Creation, sitting around in heaven hasn't brought you any rewards. You were looking forward to the day when you'd be assigned a human to look after. When that day finally arrives, things take an unexpected turn when you are assigned to Heeseung, a demon from the underworld.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: heeseung x female reader

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: angst, suggestive/smut

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 4k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: profanity, smut scenes, bad boy heeseung (lol), 

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: click me before reading!

➳ part of the drunk & dazed series

��� ҉ ◢▅◣

Sin is a spiritual virus that invades the whole being. It makes you morally and spiritually weak. It’s a deadly disease that infects every part of you: your body, your mind, your emotions, and your motives—absolutely everything. Nobody has the strength on their own to overcome its power.

Nobody should ever commit sin, never giving in to their worldly and sinful impulses. It's unjust and wrong. However, what is it about sin that makes it so fascinating and enjoyable?

It gave you joy to see it in his smile or the way his hands caressed your body. What a lovely thing sin is!

Even though some sins are innocent and enjoyable, sometimes regulations are supposed to be broken. Everyone, after all, is a sinner.

“WHAT!?,?” You began to sweat as you worriedly communicated your concerns to your overseer, “You must be mistaken, High Lord.”

“I understand the protocol; angels are supposed to serve as "guardian angels" to beautiful or broken souls on Earth. You know we're expected to look after them and keep an eye on them to make sure they stay on track. With all due respect, ma'am, I don't believe I'm qualified for this position; at the very least, someone of level 10 would be ideal.”

Her cream-colored wings swept her off her feet as she chuckled and waved for you to follow her. You sighed as you flutter up and away with her, trailing behind her, feeling a twitch in yours.

As you eventually caught up to her, dodging angels left and right, you apologized to random angels in your path, uncomfortably smiled at the people you bumped into with your wings.

You retracted your wings closer to you and walked uneasily beside your overseer as you carefully stepped down on the golden road.

Before you could say anything, she quietly took your hand in hers and gently kissed it, assuring you that everything would be alright. As you approached the center of the commotion, you bit your lower lip and remained silent.

Looking around at the community, it warmed your heart to see so many people, young and old, out here. Some you've known since the beginning of time, while others were born only last week. Everyone had gathered to witness the masterpiece that would emerge in an instant.

“You know Y/N I have complete faith in you that this first expedition will be a breeze,” you smiled, looking up at her with excitement and a tinge of fear in your eyes. “We wouldn't have suggested you for the job unless we knew who you really are, and you've earned it.” Don't worry, you were expecting this; now have a look.”

With her finger pointing to the stage forward, you were treated to yet another spectacular show. They're known as the "Grand Turning" in Heaven. This is where a new or seasoned angel has completed his or her training with a human or demon and earned their proper place in the community.

It could be a badge, a ribbon, or something more unique, such as the opportunity to talk with the all-powerful, our God.

Despite the fact that you were assigned to him, you were determined to get those jobs because they were the only way for you to ever get that honor. You weren't going to allow Mr. Unperfect take away that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Nobody could and will ever be able to make you fail this assignment; you were meticulously prepped. You were taught the correct and only way to do things, and now was your opportunity to shine. You were not going to be a Lucifer, cast from Heaven

“I'll do it,” you said to your supervisor, a smile on your face and confidence in your eyes. She turned to face you and hugged you passionately, rubbing your wings with a motherly devotion.

“I knew you could do it; now it's time to get you ready.”

---

When people have a near-death experience, they always remark that life flashes before their eyes. Unfortunately for angels, it's the contrary; when we're approached with a high-alert danger or warning, it's more of a gentle whisper in our ears. Normally more attentive while traveling to Earth.

The best place to be humans say.. What is with these fickle minded words?

You take a deep breath and turn to face your overseer, who is polishing her wings to ensure that they are kept in order. When having wings, a routine is taught from the beginning to keep them in a good up do. Nobody wants to look simple when you can look stunning.

She took your hand in hers and walked toward the end of the route, issuing some documents to the Pearl City Gate guards. You noticed the circular orb while glancing around.

"How can some humans believe in the world being flat, we literally have an air-like view. To me, it's definitely round.” She chuckled as she pinched your cheeks and turned your puzzled face to her.

“When you get down to earth, you'll see a lot of that, people with a lot of opinions. But what did you learn in your training?”

Standing up and smoothing your wings, you calmly shouted out the words as if they were written on the back of your palm.

“Although humans are the destroyers of their own precious planet, everyone's opinion matters, regardless of race, gender, or identity.”

“Well, not all,” you began scratching your head, “I've seen some harsh individuals in our study books, God should strike them down-“

“Um no ma'am, let us put it aside for the time being and focus on what needs to be done.” She started going over a list of laws and regulations for your descent to Earth. As you gave her a thumbs up, you were attentively listening and mentally bookmarking everything in their designated area.

I believe I have a good understanding of everything, and I think I am prepared.” She offered you a short hug before letting you go, showing her affection for you. You were going to miss her, despite the fact that it was a mutually-surface relationship.

“Last but not least, this ordeal will be different in that people will be able to see you. But if you have to use your wings, the lad is the only one who can see you. When you arrive, he will be waiting for you. My child, best of luck and may God bless you.”

You let go of her and moved toward the road's edge, gripping your bag as you turned to face her and waved farewell as you stepped over the brink.

“Wait a minute, what if-“

When you felt a push from behind, you tumbled off the ledge and spun around in the sky, where you saw a smiling face as you glanced up. They didn't tell you that you'd have to be pushed. As you plunged to Earth, you closed your eyes, terrified. Oh, how nice.

Screaming, you descended into the atmosphere, your narrowed eyes seeing glimpses of land here and there. Not letting up you let your wings cover your whole body as you plopped down onto soft green grass.

You peered out from your wings, gasping for air, and glanced up.

“Oh, Heavens”

His physique was slender, active, and well-groomed, with a trace of bad boy behavior in his scent. The first thing that struck your eye were the rips in his jeans. How could a man-made mistake seem to be so appealing? As you raised your eyes, you noticed tattoos splattered across his arms and up to his neck. His black velvet-like wings fluttering in the breeze, he raised his palm to his hair and stroked through the old curls, deconstructing the pattern they had once formed.

“Did you just pull a Lucifer or was this all planned?” he coughed as he put out his hand to you, taking a good look at you.

Stuttering in your words you quickly got up and patted yourself off and finally looked him in the eyes, noticing his dark eyes.

“Well, that wasn't supposed to happen, I hoped to fly down here and appear more Angel-like, but I think my overseer had other ideas.”

He said, "Ah," with a bored expression on his face.

“My name is Heeseung, and if you don't mind, I assume you don't.” I guess my name is well-known in Heaven. You're probably the fifth Angel who has appeared in the last year to “assist me.” What a load of bullshit; you can't hide what's already there, you know.”

He made a pouty look as he smirked closer to you before covering his hand with his mouth and saying, “oh forgive me, I suppose I have a potty mouth.”

Panicking at this new light, you smiled and coughed loudly and suddenly, “Before you say anything else, I'd want to inform you that I'm not like those angels we don't talk about. I have a holy standard that I adhere to.

He rushed to your face, rolling his eyes at your innocence, and murmured to you, "well see about that little Ms. Purity."

As you moved back and shook your head, spurring out prayers, you tugged the strings of your bag close to you, seeming irritated. Looking up, you noticed him hovering in mid-air with his arms crossed, waiting for you.

“Whether you're coming or not, I'm in the mood for a cup of coffee. Allow me to go fetch you one so that this whole ordeal between us may be over soon and we can both return to our respective worlds.”

You instantly snap open your wings and shot up into the sky, scoffing at his rudeness, and dash by him, racing to the left.

“It's this way, dummy,” he cackled as he immediately shot out. Embarrassed and annoyed, you flipped over to his side and flew alongside him, praying to the Lord for peace as your rage subsided.

“Lord, so help me”

---

 “So, what's on the agenda, Ms. Purity? There are a lot of things I'd want to do with you. You know, if you just ditch this whole act, we might be able to have some fun. He winked at you as he sipped his drink while peering across the table.

You shook your head and chuckled, gagging at his remark, "You must get all the girls, you appear really, what's the word, competent" I'm astonished since I assumed everyone down under was inept.”

He smirked and crossed his legs as he lay startled in his chair, cocking his head to the side. It's not that you were trying to be mean; it's just what you were taught. There are no hard feelings.

“Well, as much as I'd like to keep this delightful little date going, I have a commitment to fulfill. You know, duty calls.” You quickly got up and hurried after him, confused as to where he was going, as he shot up in the air and chuckled, waving farewell to you.

“Wait, Heeseung, you can't just go away like that. We need to figure out how I'm going to find you. You're being impolite by getting up and leaving.” You made yourself look insane since you didn't realize no one could see him. You wouldn't want to be labeled as one of these Earthlings.

You beckoned him down, mentally terrified, “Please can you just come down for a damn second.” Your jaw dropped as you hurriedly covered your mouth. Heeseung's jaw dropped when he appeared in front of you, stunned.

“Gasp, I'm hearing a term I'm sure they don't say in Heaven. Hmm, I suppose the Earth changes people.” He went closer to your ear, his warm arm bouncing on your skin as he giggled, his lips inches away from yours.

“I've already entered my phone number into your phone; you do understand what a phone is, right?” Doesn't matter,  I have to get somewhere, and you can locate me later. Okay, I'll see you later.” He swept up in the air and rushed over to the bridge as he vanished into the horizon, rushing out in a haste once more.

You sat back in the coffee chair, wiped your brow, and focused mentally and spiritually, pleading with the Lord for help and forgiveness. You had a feeling this mission was going to be a disaster.

Whining, you threw your hands in the air and sat face down on the table, groaning as you realized this trek. It's no surprise that these honors are well-deserved; it takes a lot of effort.

You cautiously lifted your head and faced the barista after hearing a soft tap on your table. She smiled at you as she set down a piece of paper. You scowled as you inspected the weird set of paper.

“What a jerk, he didn't just leave me to pay for both drinks.” With a shake of your head, you reached inside your bag and drew out a wallet. Your overseer informed you that many people like flaunting and spending their money, so she provided some for you just in case.

As you cleaned up, you began to mentally map out your route through town, mentally picturing the locations and navigating your way home. As you walked over to the cashier, you handed her some money and thanked her before heading out the door.

At the very least, you landed in a fantastic location. It was in the heart of South Korea, and the city was called Seoul, a wonderful metropolis to be sure. You were taught to master specific languages for specific tasks, so communicating wasn't a problem. Despite the fact that you were new in a strange place, you were determined to make the most of it. The first step was to return home and examine the situation.

How to manage Lee Heeseung. 

Arriving at your small abode was an adventure in itself; it didn't take long for you to connect your GPS and get going. It was actually fairly pleasant and provided a change of scenery to enjoy. It's not quite Heaven, but it's still lovely. When you finally arrive at your destination, you look up to see a little, charming apartment in front of you.

They really went all out for you, and it's very much in your style. You'd felt right at home as soon as you stepped inside, as it was more modern and sophisticated.

To be honest, you had no idea what you were doing, but it felt good to have your own little place to do anything you wanted. You could get used to this, no wonder why humans never leave their house. Who would want to leave when you have everything here. Food, entertainment, and a BALCONY!!

As you finished exploring the apartment and basked in its magnificence, you laughed to yourself as you made your way to the couch, sinking into its coziness as sleep took over your mind and body.

*Crunch, thud, bang*

As you lurched forward, you flew up your wings in defense mode, trying to understand what you'd heard.

“Who's there? I have a weapon, and I'm not afraid to use it.”

When you hear a familiar giggle, you look up and see the attractive intruder. Walking over to you and snatching the pillow from your grasp he took your hand and pulled you over to the island where he had prepared some food.

As you took it all in, you smelt familiar scents and smiled, completely forgetting about it until you were reminded again.

“Wait, what are you doing in my apartment, and how did you get in?”

He began to remove some pots and pans from the stove while he placed some food on a platter, saying, "I have my methods."

“I'm not sure what you eat up there in Heaven, but I'm guessing it's all healthy and nutritious food.” You laughed and shook your hand in disbelief while shaking your head.

“I don’t think out of all places we would be eating so strictly. It's basically whatever you can get your hands on.. It's guaranteed to be better food than what you'll find in Hell.”

Pulling the dish away from him, you began to pick at the fries, popping one into your mouth and savoring the flavor, “not bad.”

He bowed in front of you, wiped the sweets from his brow, and returned to sit next to you, grabbing a dish and feeding himself some. As the night progressed, you told him the rundown for the next three months.

“So, despite the fact that you're definitely one of the worst jerks I've ever encountered. For this to function, we'll need to create certain ground rules.” Aiming a finger between you and him. “I'm not sure whether you've ever had to do anything for anyone else in your life, but it's all about serving people around here, and that's why I accepted this assignment. Even if you don't want to help yourself, I want to help you.”

As Heeseung shuffled around in his chair, avoiding eye contact with you, the atmosphere became tense.

“Harsh, but keep going.”

Smiling you continued as you tried to wrap your head around this complex creature.

“I understand that we are supposed to protect and guide you to do good, but it appears that we have progressed far beyond that, and we need to start at the source of your problem, which is most likely your heart or mind. What's going on in both?

As his words danced across your lips, he smirked and drew you closer to him.

“Now there's a secret.” 

Smirking as your face felt warm, you cocked your head to the side and touched his shoulder before getting up and setting your dish in the sink, cleaning up as piercing eyes stabbed your back.

“I understand what you're thinking, and I've got it all under control.”

He approached you and said, "If you say so," as he put his head against your ear.

2 months later 

Everything was certainly out of hand, and he was to blame. Your strategy not only failed, but it was only a matter of time until your overseer found out. And you didn’t want to end up like the last guy tossed from Heaven.

It wasn't all that bad, but who were you kidding, it was a disaster. It wasn't a major shift; rather, it was a series of modest changes. Things like accidentally cursing or hanging out with him at ungodly hours. You convinced yourself that everything was OK.

He drew you into your room and sat you down while hovering over you, gently caressing your body and kissing you.

You smiled and drew him closer to you, wrapping your legs around his waist and bringing him down on you, closing the distance between you.

Heeseung has been on a mission to damage your "innocent demeanor" for the past two weeks. He intended to show you that it was all a charade and that no one is actually perfect. Despite not knowing what he was going to do, you were up for the challenge. That core part of you didn't take long to succumb to his immoral impulses.

What was the problem as long as you were both happy?

“Heeseung,” you say as he draws you closer to him and unclasps your bra with his free hand. As you slowly rise to assist him, you toss the material to the ground and reach for his sweatpants.

“Someone a little needy, but we are not doing that today. Today is all about pampering my lovely angel. Is it all right?”

Nodding your head, you keep an eye on him as he goes between your legs, halting at the bottom as he eyes your breast and grasps softly as your body adjusts.

“Hurry up,” you grumble as you stare at his sinister grin. As you moan, he places gentle lips along your folds, leaning down to your core. As you twitch under his touch, his finger makes a fast dive between your folds, inciting dampness.

As you whine from the pressure, your eyes flutter shut as he switches his finger out with his tongue, softly licking up your surface.

“mm, close,” you exclaim, your lips wide open as he notices your clit, tongue flicking lustfully against it. As he presses harder on your sensitive region, he laughs as you break apart under his power.

“Oh God, right there.” 

“Please don't involve Him in this.” He hits a place as your high comes crashing down on you, chuckling at your reaction. Heeseung is holding you down and watching you quiver wildly as you release juice, which causes him to swallow it before wiping his mouth. As you fall onto his body, overwhelmed and still sensitive to the sensation, he pulls you up.

He lays your exhausted body next to his and wipes any excess arousal from his mouth before kissing your lips.

You both lay in a comfortable stillness for the remainder of the night, your breathing slowly returning to normal as you sign into his arms.

“Perhaps you're right; we're all just horny, messed-up creatures; I mean, even though what we're doing is completely wrong, it was fun to break the rules. My entire life has been focused on doing the right thing and being this upstanding angel. It's fun to deviate from the norm.” As Heeseung witnessed you erupt in rage, you became agitated.

“You’re cute when you’re mad, also I told you.” You both chuckled as you pushed him to the side before coming to a halt in the middle of your conversation, looking concerned at him.

“However, I leave tomorrow and I don't think I'll be ready to see you off, and this was not in my plan.”

“Shhh, I figured it out; just stick to my plan and we'll both come out on top.”

You sat closer to him, nodding your head and clasping your hand in his as you allowed sleep to take over your body.

As you may know, angels and humans have quite distinct punishments; some humans are never punished for their wrongdoings, whereas angels' actions are usually discovered one way or another.

And you were terrified that they would find out. The person who fell from the edge was not the same person who was returning back and everyone was going to know it. Just not right now, you had to maintain your composure as you approached your overseer.

As you were greeted with the overseer and some guards, you held Heeseung by his chains and whispered something into his ear.

“I see you were having a good time?” You shook your head and looked down, worried. You looked up at her with sad eyes.

“Yes, High Lord, I am aware of my error and what needs to be done in order to be purified once more. I accept complete responsibility for this assignment, but I crack him first, and we have all the secrets we need.”

As he observed you return to the opposite side with the overseer, Heeseung's gaze shifted up in fright. Fearing for his life, he flailed his wings in an attempt to flee.

“What the hell, Y/N, I thought we were on the same team.” How could you betray me in such a way?” You walked over to his trembling body and pushed him down so you were above him, laughing loudly. You patted his shoulder as you cackled.

“And they said angels could be trustworthy. I know what I'm worth, and it has nothing to do with you. Heseeung, please accept my apologies. Get him out of here.” The guards grabbed his chains and dragged him to a chamber across the room from you.

As she began to compliment you on your efforts, the supervisor wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

“I'm proud of you, Y/N, even though you used some terrible techniques. I knew you'd be able to pull it off.”

You grinned joyously and thanked her for her faith in you as you looked up at her face. You cast another peek at Heeseung as she stepped forward, and he winked at you. Smirking before he disappeared into the room you chuckled at his behavior.

Everything was going swimmingly, and no one had a clue. I suppose taking over Heaven would be a simple task; if you can blow up the inside, everything will fall apart on its own.

"How could you hide this from all of us?" "Oh God, you underestimated me."

The Beauty of Sin.

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

➳ Navigate to the Maze

[mackeydoodledoo]

A Real Hero

Pairing: Daniela Dimitrescu x (Fem!Daughter of Ares)Reader

Summary: You were lost. You needed to fend for yourself. You were the runt of Ares’ kids. Yes, the god of war himself had told you that you were the runt of the pack, making you fall behind everyone else. However, meeting a certain red-head has you making other plans.

Warnings: Fighting, Small amount of Blood, Supposed Death

A/n: So, I’m Poseidon’s kid... But, I may or may not have a idea for a daughter of Poseidon to be paired with one of the other two daughters. 

“Supermassive Black Hole” - Muse [Play this when Joan splits off with Daniela to go hunting]

---------------------------------------------------------------------

You had nowhere to go. You were shunned out by your brothers and sisters. Even your own father. You were the runt of the children of Ares. Meaning, you were the weakest link. Your own father had dropped you off at the same very forest. Haven’t heard from him, your mother or your siblings since.

Come on Joan... You got this...

You were exhausted. The glistening sweat rolled off your now toned arms as you were practicing your sword play skills. The tree however, wasn't so lucky. All of its peeled bark, all of its scars. Came from you. It looked like it was on the brink of death.

“Not so tough now are you?” You try to stupidly intimidate the nearly dead tree

God you sound stupid right now...

You take one heavy slash to the tree; it begins tumbling down. However, just as you about to chop it further, you hear a scream. Panic sets in as you immediately grab hold of the tree stump. You initially struggle to keep the other end of the tree’s weight. However, You shove it to the side, groaning in pain, clutching at your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” You ask, running over to the woman who screamed

Just barely grazing her shoulder with your finger, you wince in pain.

“Am I okay?!” She asks, turning to look at you, “Are you okay?! You’re the one who- oh my god...”

The other woman was in shock, but also intrigued. 

She looks down at your finger; blood... But, it wasn’t the crimson shade kind of blood. What was seeping out of your finger was a thick and Silver colored.

“How is your blood like that?” She asks, observing your finger like a gentle specimen

“It’s always been like this,” You chuckle

“Does it actually taste like blood?!” She asks

You look at her; her eyes dilated with curiosity. You look down at your feet, trying to come up with the best answer for her.

“How am I supposed to know?” You ask her, “I’ve never been one to taste my own blood.”

“Then let me be the first one,” She says, her tone dropping to a low, seductive tone

“Hey! What are you-” You protest

But it was too late. The tip of her tongue had ran right over the small prick in your finger. Your eyes widen as she begins gagging.

“Oh that was vile!” She wretches

“I tried warning you to not do that,” You chuckle, “But, did you listen?”

She punches your shoulder as she continues to gag out the contents of your blood.

“But for real though, how did you do that?” She asks

“Do.. What?” You ask her

“The... The.. You picked up a whole damn tree!” She exclaims, “No mortal could do that!” 

“That’s because I’m.. Not fully mortal...” Your voice trails off

“You’re... Not?” She asks, her eyes widening once more

“Demigod.. To be precise..” You begin explaining, “It’s when an immortal falls in love with a mortal... And they have kids... Kids like me.”

The woman doesn’t answer you...

Great... She’s freaked out...

“So... Let me get this straight... You’re... Half immortal?” She asks

Girl’s clueless...

“Technically.. Yes,” You answer her

“Wait until mother and my sisters hear when I bring you home,” She wickedly smiles

Wait.. What?...

When you opened your eyes you no longer found yourself basking in the sunshine.

“Just check her blood! She really is half immortal!” The familiar voice 

“Daniela, quit your games,” Another feminine voice calls to the sole familiar voice

“What is the meaning of this?” An older, robust yet soothing feminine voice walks in

“Daniela claims that she’s found a half immortal,” Another feminine voice says, but more hungrier than the other three

“But mother it’s true!” Daniela claims, “Look at her blood!” 

“Enough... Daniela,” The older woman sighs

By the time the arguing had died down, your fingers held your temples as you groaned in pain.

“Half-immortal,” The older woman calls to you

“Ow... What?” You look up

You had to adjust your neck in a slightly uncomfortable position as you stare straight up into the most giantess woman you have ever encountered.

“Tell me child...” She starts, “What is your name?”

“Joan...” You answer, “Joan Arc...”

“Are you truly half immortal?” She asks

“I am...” You say without a second thought

“Then prove it,” The blonde demands

“Now now Bela,” The older woman calms her blonde daughter, “But that you shall do for us.”

“What happens if I refuse?” You ask, standing on your two feet

“We’ll feed your scraps to the pigs,” The brunette growls 

“Cassandra enough!” Daniela demands, grabbing her sisters’ wrist

Cassandra turns to the red head and begins growling at her like a primal animal. You were about to step in before you see the older woman beginning to raise her hand.

“Cassandra... Daniela,” She sighs, “On this evening’s hunt she will accompany the three of you. Cassandra...”

The brunette straightens herself out when the woman called her name. 

“Do show her the armory for this evening,” She gently commands

“Of course mother,” She answers, “Half and half.”

Cassandra turns to you.

Great... A nickname already...

“You coming or not?” She asks

You walk towards her as you felt claw-like fingernails dig into your skin as you are bragged out of what looked to be the bedchambers. You catch a glimpse of Daniela; the woman you had saved from earlier in the day. You give her a small smile before Cassandra rounds the corner, knocking you into the doorframe.

“Come on,” Cassandra growls

“So... Half and half,” Cassandra teases at your nickname, taking a gaze at the weapons in the armory room

“It’s Joan,” You correct her coldly

“What brought you to our castle grounds anyway?” She asks, completely ignoring your correction

“Actually your sister... Daniela brought me here against my will so...” You joke, but also tell the truth

“She doesn’t know when to stop bringing toys into the castle,” Cassandra sighs

Toys?... Is she for real?...

“I was cast off, unwanted by my own father,” You explain, “I was the weakest of his kids... All of my siblings had their backs turned to me when I was casted out of the cabin...”

“That’s rough...” Cassandra sighs

You weren’t sure if Cassandra was continuing to mock you or she actually felt bad about your situation.

“Anyway though, I’m kind of happy that I’m out of there,” You add, “My siblings were a bunch of assholes anyway.”

“I could say the same for my sisters... We’re always trying to out-best each other to please mother... It’s getting tiring honestly.” She sighs

“Then don’t do it to please your mother,” You say, grabbing a sword off of the weapons rack, “Do it so it makes you happy.”

With your back turned to Cassandra, you begin putting your hair up to a ponytail.

“What’s that?” She asks

“What’s what?” You ask

“The thing on the back of your neck,” Cassandra helps, “What is it?”

My birthmark... Well, just a mark...

“The Mark of Ares,” You answer, “All the children of Ares have this specific mark.”

[A/n: Not much but I tried lol]

You nod, “Not the glamorous life as a god though.”

“So you really are half and half huh?” Cassandra continues asking

After grabbing a couple of armor plates, you arm yourself with a sword and a spear. You follow Cassandra back to the main hall where the other three women were waiting for the both of you. 

“All set?” The tall woman asks

“Yes mother,” Cassandra says

You simply nod as you follow them out to what looked like horse stables. However, you only see enough for the four of them.

Great... Will I have to be the one running on foot?

“Joan,” Daniela calls, horse already galloped in front of you

She simply holds out her hand for you to grab. You let out a smile as you take her hand. You were astonished by the amount of strength Daniela had when she pulled you up onto the back of her horse. 

“Strong,” You smile, resting your palms on her curved hipline

“You better hold on tight,” Daniela flirts

As soon as the stable doors opened fully, Daniela slams the reigns on her horse and the horse bolts past the other three. You let out a startled yelp as Daniela’s horse bursts out of the stables and out into the familiar warmth. You hold onto Daniela for dear life; your head against the back of her neck as you hear her giggling.

“The half immortal is scared of a horse ride?” Daniela teases you

“Caught me off guard is all,” You gently chuckle

Daniela continues to giggle as you ease your grip on her slightly. You look over your shoulder and see the other three horses following behind, slowly gaining to where you and Daniela were. You looked along the tree line to see the sunset beginning to dwindle down below the horizon.

“Why hunt at night?” You ask

“It’s too stuffy during the day,” Daniela explains to you, “It’s tolerable... For a certain amount of time.”

You stop at a river that was relatively near the castle for the horses to rest and hydrate as the four of you begin to tread through the woods to go hunting. 

“Why don’t the both of you go hunt on your own, go teach Daniela some hunting techniques would you?” Bela suggests

“Hey!” Daniela yelps, “I can hunt well on my own thank you very much.”

“I’d certainly could ask Artemis to give Daniela some hunting lessons but who the hell knows where she is,” You explain, “Come on Dani.”

Daniela takes you by the wrist and yanks you close to her as the both of you begin walking along the forest trees in hopes to get any kills before dawn arrives.

“Have you.. Actually hunted before?” Daniela asks

“After months of fending for my own,” You say, “Mostly spear-fishing... Spear is normally my main weapon but if I want to go more rough n tough, a sword.”

“Shouldn’t the half immortals be expertise in various weapons?” Daniela teases you

“A lot of Demigods would have their specified weapons,” You say, “Watch and learn baby.”

You roll up your pant legs and your sleeves. You strip off your shoes and slowly begin stepping into the ice-cold riverbank. further to your right was a giant waterfall. You could hear the loud running water go over the edge of the drop.

“If I only had Night vision,” You sigh 

“On your right,” Daniela calls out to you

You immediately spear to your right. Once you had lifted the spear, you had sworn the spear had gained more top end weight.

“How did you?...” You turn to Daniela

“I mostly go hunting at night,” Daniela smiles, “So my eyesight works best during the night.”

“That’s good to have,” You smile

You and Daniela continue spear-fishing as the night progresses through. 

“Have you caught a bear before?” Daniela asks

“No,” You say

“Why don’t we go and catch one?” Daniela suggests

“Well, how would you do it Daniela?” You ask her

“Why are you asking me?” Daniela asks

“Because one, you’re the one suggesting it and two, why don’t you lead a hunt for once,” You smile

Daniela looks at you as you emerge from the riverbank and begin making a makeshift basket to place all of the fish in. 

“You sure know how to craft,” Daniela just simply watches you make

“A lot of things were learned while living on my own out here,” You smile as you look up at her

You stop weaving the basket when Daniela is just kneeling in front of you. 

“You okay Daniela?” You ask her, clearing your throat

“I’m okay,” She answers, inching her way closer to you, “You?”

“I’m fine,” You answer, a bubble caught in your throat, “What-what are you doing right now?” 

“I... Like you..” Daniela says

“Daniela!” You yell

You coil an arm around her waist line as you try to get up but you tumble forward. You look up and see a bear letting out a roar. With your spear crushed under the bears’ foot, you draw your sword and begin swinging, in hopes of it being scared and runs off. However, you stop once it began growling. 

“Joan!” Daniela yells

You felt your body land onto the ground as the sword is knocked from your grip. You immediately prop yourself on your elbows and turn your head.

“Daniela!” You yell to her

Like Hell I’m about to lose her....

Your legs suddenly spring upward, pivoting as fast as they could. You break into a run as the bear begins to stand on its hind legs. You didn’t even think to take your weapon back into your hand as you use your body to slam yourself into the bear.

“Hey!” You call to Daniela

She looks at you.

“I... Like you too,” You smile

“Joan... Joan!!” Daniela screams

As quick as Daniela could, she scampers up to her feet and dives after you, only to come a hare too late. You and the bear had plummeted towards the sharp-rocked bottom of the waterfall.

“JOAN!!!!” Daniela banshee screams as she watches you both and the bear disappear into the misty waters below

“Daniela?!” Alcina calls out

Alcina, Cassandra and Bela emerge from the tree line, beelining it to her. Alcina pulls her youngest daughter into her arms as Daniela lets out wailing sobs.

“We were trying to hunt a bear and- and- I almost got killed but-” Daniela chokes on her sobs, “Joan went over the edge protecting me.. With- with the bear...” 

“I’m sorry my daughter,” Alcina sighs, “The hunt is over. Back to the castle. Now.”

“But-But Joan is still down there!” Daniela begs her mother

“No one survives that drop,” Alcina states, “Not even a half immortal like Joan. We have to go now.”

Daniela doesn’t argue with her mother. She follows her mother and sisters back to their horses to take back to the castle stables. 

I’m sorry Joan...

Night was slowly dissipating as Daniela lay across her bed, crying to herself. She didn’t care about how bad she smelled from the outside world. She was upset at herself for not catching you in time just before you plummeted to your death.

“Daniela?” Bela calls out

“What Bela?...” Daniela wipes away her tears 

“Someone’s in the main hall with Cassandra,” Bela says, less enthusiastic

Daniela dissipates into flies as well as Bela. Daniela follows her sister and as soon as Bela busts the doors open, Daniela felt her heart throb.

“Joan?...” Daniela calls out, materializing into her human form

“Finally,” Cassandra sighs as she pushes your batters and bloodied body towards Daniela

Daniela catches your almost limp body. But, you manage with all of your strength you had left, you wrap your arms around Daniela's neck as she struggles to keep you on your feet.

"I thought you were..." Daniela says

"Dead?" You finish her sentence

Daniela takes you to her bedchambers and begins stripping away whatever was left of the armor and your ripped clothing.

"Ow..." You groan

"Do you... Remember what happened after you plummeted down the waterfall?" Daniela asks

"Well, what I do remember is that the bear wasn't anywhere to be found by the time I had come to. I was bleeding a lot. But, obviously being a Demigod, my slow regeneration process began. But. Took me forever though. Everything still hurts like hell..." You sigh

You lowly gasp as you felt Daniela's long, cold fingers caress your body as she applies the bandages.

"I'm sorry," She whimpers

"It's okay. You're just really cold..." You sigh, smiling

You could feel Daniela's eyes on you as she moved directly behind you. You could feel the tension between the both of you.

"I meant what I said too," You say

You feel her fingers begin coiling around your ribcage and her head resting on your shoulder.

"I know," She whispers into your ear

You sweep your arm underneath Daniela and pull her into your lap.

"Joan!..." Daniela gasps

It doesn't take Daniela long to settle herself in your lap as her wicked smile sweeps across her face.

"Awwww you're blushing," Daniela coos

"Shut up..." You growl playfully

"Well then maybe you should make me," She smirks, her wicked giggle coming out

[A/n: Here is a character board for Joan Arc]

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Pomegranate Seeds 3

well we got some BIG projecting going on here. if yall didn’t know i had mommy issues before, you sure as fuck do now 😂😂😂

Warnings: insecure Jask, allusions to verbally abusive/manipulative parents, lmao rebellious jask, good ole miscommunication between jask and geralt - but solved quickly, lol swearing

___________

Letter after letter reached Jaskier in the underworld, and time after time, he destroyed them. He didn’t tell Geralt, telling himself it was because the ruler of the underworld had more important things to deal with. He didn’t want to admit he was scared Geralt would send him packing. 

Eventually, Demeter resorted to threats. Threats of famine that she followed through on. She underestimated just how like her Jaskier was, though. He didn’t dignify her tantrum with a response. 

When she sent messengers, he started to worry.

He told Charon to alert him, not Geralt, if another god or goddess came to visit, even one of the more senior demigods. He didn’t want to take any chances. Geralt didn’t need to know anyway. 

But Geralt noticed something was off.

Jaskier would say he was tired, or he couldn’t perfect a specific verse of the song he was writing. Usually it worked, but it was only ever a salve, never a cure, for Geralt’s suspicions. 

“What’s wrong, love?” Geralt cradled him in his lap, lounging in the now lavish courtyard under the pomegranate tree Jaskier had brought back from the brink of death. 

Jaskier nuzzled closer, “I’m just ti-”

“No, I asked you what’s wrong,” Geralt insisted, giving him a gentle squeeze and placing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“It’s nothing,” Jaskier lied, hoping the sigh he accidentally let slip didn’t register, “You don’t need to worry about it.” 

Geralt hummed and went quiet for a moment before he curled a bit tighter around Jaskier and whispered, “Do you want to go home?” 

Jaskier scrambled up, sputtering and terrified, “Did she get to you?!” When Geralt just looked at him with an unreadable expression he started to panic, feeling hot tears welling up in his eyes as he did his best to keep his voice steady, “Don’t send me back. Please, Geralt. Anything but that.”

“I’d never,” Geralt soothed, standing and hesitantly reaching for Jaskier’s hand. 

He eyed the offer warily, sniffing and trying to calm himself, “Then why would you say that?”

“I thought you were unhappy. You’ve been… acting strange.” 

Jaskier ignored Geralt’s outstretched hand, choosing to wrap himself around Geralt’s torso and bury his face in the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry. I’ll be better tomorrow. It’s just, uhm. I’m just a bit off.” 

Geralt instinctively held him tighter, “Jaskier I want you to be happy, not ‘better’.”

Jaskier just hummed, swallowing back his unshed tears. 

“Who were you talking about?”

For a moment, Jaskier had to remind himself to breathe before he could respond, “Hm?”

“You asked if someone had ‘gotten’ to me?”

Tears spilled regardless of Jaskier’s best efforts, “My mother. She wants me to come back. She’s been sending letters and messengers.”

“And you don’t want to?” 

“Never,” Jaskier insisted, “This is the most freedom I've ever had. I don’t have to hide in the treetops to feel any sense of calm, I get to make decisions, I make things grow when I want, for whom I want.”

Geralt ran a hand over his hair, resting it at the base of his skull and brushing his thumb through the little hairs behind his ear, “You don’t ever have to leave. I love you. I want you here.” 

“I love you too,” Jaskier whispered, “I’m just scared.” 

Geralt gently pushed him back just enough to look into his eyes, “There’s a way you could stay forever…”

The hopeful glint in his eyes told Geralt everything he needed to know, so he continued, “If you eat even one pomegranate seed you will be tethered to the underworld. You can stay and do whatever pleases you. But it is irreversible. One bite and your fate is forever tied to this place.” 

Jaskier thought about it for a moment, searching Geralt’s eyes for something, anything, that could make the decision for him, “I could never leave?” 

“Only if the both of us willed it and only for a short time,” Geralt explained, tenderly wiping his tears away, “I could never keep you here if you were miserable. Try as I might to think about anything else, your happiness consumes much of my thoughts.” 

“Hmm,” Jaskier leaned into Geralt’s touch, turning his head to kiss his palm, “Do I need to decide right now?”

Geralt kissed his forehead, “Of course not. It’s just an option.”

“Okay,” Jaskier sighed, curling his fingers around the robes cascading down Geralt’s back, “I like it - the idea. I just… I want to take my time?” 

“Absolutely.”

-

Time wasn’t something Jaskier was allowed apparently. 

The two of them were just climbing out of a lovely bath when a chattering skeleton announced the arrival of a visitor. 

Demeter stood in the throne room with her back turned to them, examining one of the glowing diamonds when they entered. She looked so small, almost insignificant. Her hair was in an intricate braid, she wore a cream toga, adorned with gold that made her look more like a savior than the horror she really was. 

Jaskier gripped Geralt’s hand tightly and pulled them to a halt, knowing very well Demeter wanted him to speak first. It was a stand off he was familiar with. If he spoke first she had the upper hand, hearing his tone and picking apart his words. She always knew how particular her son was with words. 

“Julek. It’s time to go.”

Her voice echoed off the stone walls as she calmly stated her order, not even bothering to turn and look at him. 

Jaskier took a deep breath and squeezed Geralt’s hand, not looking at him for fear of crying, “No.” 

“Playtime is over. You have duties. The humans did not prepare for you to leave. They’re calling it winter,” she snorted as if the idea was as ridiculous as standing on your head in a temple. 

Jaskier grit his teeth, feeling the rage bubble up in his chest, “I don’t care.”

“Clearly,” She rounded on him with a condescending look of disappointment, “It doesn’t matter if you care. They’re still your responsibility.” 

Jaskier took a step forward, “A responsibility you assigned me. You fixed it before, fix it now.”

“I cant.” 

“Tough shit.”

Jaskier wasn’t sure how any of his words were coming out without sounding absolutely hysterical, but he was glad for it. He glared at her, daring her to try again while internally he was scrambling for a plan.

“For this particular magic, I need you. Seasons will take more work than a year round harvest, but you have set them off nonetheless.” Demeter’s voice was softer than usual, though Jaskier didn’t miss the incincerity of her words. She’d raised him. He knew her, probably better than she knew herself for all the introspection she refused to take part in, and he knew she was playing games. 

"Oh? Are you no longer capable?" Jaskier laughed bitterly as he turned to walk toward the courtyard, "The great goddess of plenty and harvest can't sustain what she's built? Unfortunate. I am good at what I do here. I am so good at caring about the souls that end up in our audience-"

"Our!?"

"DONT interrupt me," Jaskier shouted, turned and stomped his heel into the ground making vines burst forth from the marble beneath them, wrapping around Demeter's waist and mouth, "I have also found I'm rather adept at torture when necessary. I love it down here! I love being able to right wrongs and show the righteous to Elysium. I love having a purpose to my actions, not just being someone's unappreciated trophy! And I love Geralt. He treats me so well and loves me so sweetly and wants only to make me happy. Nothing about your 'seasons' and 'bringing life' interests me in the slightest, Demeter. Because that's not who I am. I am rage and justice and I am to be feared, not manipulated. Take your failing crops and go." Jaskier waved a hand dismissively and the vines disappeared back into the ground. 

Without looking back, he strode toward the pomegranate tree in the center of the garden, plucking a fruit from the nearest branch and turning to glare at his mother. Geralt was hot on his heels, glancing between the two but keeping quiet. Jaskier had told him he wanted to confront her himself, without her thinking he’d been told what to say. So Geralt stood by and seethed. 

Jaskier pulled a knife from the holster in Geralt’s belt and sliced a nice section out of the pomegranate. 

“Don’t you dare.” Demeter snarled, standing at the edge of the courtyard. 

Jaskier smirked and peeled the white fiber from the blood red seeds with a casual sigh, “I don’t think your opinion matters much here.” 

Jaskier flipped the knife in the air and caught it by the blade, maintaining eye contact with Demeter as he handed it back to Geralt.

“Are you sure?” Geralt’s voice was just a whisper as he took the blade.

Jaskier picked a particularly dark red seed from it’s home and turned to look at him, “There’s absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be, my love.” 

With that he popped the seed in his mouth. 

[sylvies-chen]

Suggestions - Melendaire

(AO3 link)

// Neil accidentally lets something slip on a drowsy Sunday morning in bed with his girlfriend. Claire, naturally, panics. //

Word count: 2384

Neil Melendez wakes up with Claire Browne in his arms just about every morning.

The feeling still hasn’t gotten old.

Their one-year anniversary is coming around the corner. Just under two weeks away, the surgeon realizes when he does the math in his head. And even after all this time, the feeling of waking up with her head on his shoulder and tucked under his arm has never lost its luster. The rush of excitement and pure affection still rushes through his veins all the same. He’s still groggy as that dawns on him, barely awake enough to move away from the blinding sunlight coming in from the bedroom window. All he does is squint and tilt his head the other way, right into Claire’s brown curls. Getting a face full of hair should bother him, but he’s used to it by now— it only makes him smile.

They don’t need to get up right away today. It’s one of their few days off, which means they’ll spend most of the morning the way they usually do when they get a day off: sleeping in for a while, going a few rounds if they’re in the mood, and then making pancakes for breakfast. It’s a nice routine they’ve gotten into over the past year, one that’s made Neil dread work the next day. He just likes spending time with her too much; likes getting lost in her and her soft brown eyes.

Suddenly, he feels her stirring in his arms and she opens her eyes, waking up slowly with a tired moan. “What time is it?”

“Early,” he replies, sitting up in the bed leaning against the backboard.

“Ugh, I hate early. I want to kill early,” Claire groans. “Do we have to get up?”

“No. It’s our day off, we can sleep in. No surgeries, no difficult patients, no paperwork. None of it.”

“Good,” Claire sighs contentedly, pressing a lazy kiss to his cheek and sitting up to snuggle into him. “I like staying here with you.”

“I like it too,” he admits, smiling. “Hey, what do you say we go running this afternoon?”

“Yeah? You think we’ll be fully awake by then?”

“Definitely,” he affirms. “We can sleep in and then go after lunch. And the only thing I love more than you and my work is beating you at the track.”

“Oh, really funny, Neil,” she quips sarcastically, giggling. “If you win, it’s because you cheat!”

“I prefer to call it being creative,” he protests. “Besides, you’re the one who keeps falling for the old ‘fake an injury’ trick. I’ve done it a hundred times now and you fall for it every time.”

“Well excuse me for trying to be a good girlfriend,” she mumbles teasingly, accepting defeat.

“Don’t worry though, sweetheart. When I beat you this afternoon, it’ll be fair and square,” he comforts teasingly, pressing a kiss to her head. They normally spend their mornings like this too— exchanging quick kisses.

“You’re unbelievable,” Claire giggles. “Always so—“

“Arrogant?” He guesses the end of her sentence, because it’s one of the first things she’d called him when she came to St. Bonaventure’s.

“Self-assured,” she corrects him. “But if you want to say arrogant then I won’t argue with that.” She gives him a teasing smirk, which sends them both into a fit of laughter.

“I want to marry you,” he lets out as he chuckles, before he can really think about it.

Oh crap. Something he hadn’t even expected to say, something lingering underneath the surface of his mind, just slipped out.

Oh crap. Claire’s staring at him with eyes like a deer in headlights.

Oh crap. What the hell did he just say?

It’s not like he doesn’t want to marry her. He definitely does. They’ve been dating for quite some time now, ever since that close call during the earthquake nearly a year ago. But they’d both agreed to take things slowly, especially since it had taken everyone at work a little while to adjust to the idea of him and Claire in a relationship. Dr. Melendez and Dr. Browne, secret lovers. It wasn’t exactly a smooth transition, but they’d weathered it together. He loves her and she loves him, that’s all that ever really mattered. Now, they’ve built this life together— a routine of date nights and tender kisses. He’s never felt happier, and his love for her has only grown stronger with time.

So yeah, the thought of marrying her has crossed his mind more than once. Although apparently, it’s crossed his mind more frequently than he’d thought because here he is, blurting out a proposal while tangled up in bed with his girlfriend on a Sunday morning.

“What?” Claire gets out of bed and stands up, pulling the sheet up to cover her chest. Suddenly, through Neil’s fault and his fault alone, she’s wide awake and alert.

Neil winces, his nose scrunching up into his eyes. “Nothing. I mean, I didn’t— that’s not...”

“Oh my god,” she lets out, quiet and stunned as she gets up out of the bed and takes the sheet with her, keeping it wrapped around her body. “You just asked me to marry you?!”

“No no no,” he replies frantically, reaching to grab his boxers and yanking them on before standing up to face her. The bed separates them, but her eyes are wild and piercing with shock. He knows he’s just done something monumentally stupid. “That wasn’t a proposal, I swear.”

“Then what the hell was that?”

“It was...” he pauses to rack his brain for something to say to get him out of the corner he’s backed himself into, and he only lands on one thing. “... a suggestion,” he finishes with a shrug.

“A suggestion?” She looks at him skeptically, her arms crossed in front of her.

“Yes,” he confirms hesitantly.

“Ok, that’s it,” she nods curtly. “you’re insane. This— this is insane!”

“Look, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “It was a nice moment, I was happy and still half asleep, and- and it just slipped out. Like it or not, I said it. But if you want to go back and pretend like it didn’t happen then fine, we can do that.”

“Well we can’t go back now, Neil,” she huffs. “I can’t go on pretending you didn’t just say that. I mean— god, I can still hear it in my head even now! We need to talk about it.”

“Ok,” he sighs— a little defeatedly, since he has a gut feeling that this conversation isn’t going anywhere he likes (and his gut has never steered him wrong, being a surgeon has taught him that much). “The floor’s open for discussion, Browne. How do you want to go about this?”

He tries to be as clinical as possible he waits for a response. This whole situation is a little embarrassing, really. In the small amount of time since they’ve woken up in each other’s arms, Neil’s somehow managed to blurt out a proposal to his girlfriend of less than a year and has nearly ruined everything. They’re both standing on opposite sides of the bed, in nothing but their underwear, and Neil swears the tension is thick enough to choke them to death. He can picture his colleagues attempting some hypothetical surgery, can picture calling the time of death of their relationship and marking the cause of death off as asphyxiation on some intangible substance. It’s funny, in some weird and twisted way. He’s beating himself up over where this conversation is heading, but at least Glassman would get a kick out of it.

But then, by some miracle, it doesn’t head that way at all.

Claire exhales quietly, deep in thought. Melendez can see her muscles relaxing, the tension leaving from her shoulders as she sits back down on the bed. She leans in a little, staring shyly at her fingers sunken into the bedsheets. “Well, for starters... I think you should ask me again.”

“What?” His brows furrow as a small smile creeps onto his face. Neil sits down across from her on the bed, delightfully stunned. “Are you being serious?”

“I am,” she replies calmly. Her tone is a hell of a lot calmer than Neil feels right now. He can practically feel the excitement rushing through his veins.

Is she saying what he thinks she’s saying?

Neil hasn’t expected this conversation to come for a long time. They grew into each other’s love in time, but it doesn’t erase the scars they have. Claire’s pain and trauma is actually what made her so scared to admit she loved him in the first place. It’d taken him being on the brink of death for her to admit her feelings. Now, they’ve finally grown more comfortable with their feelings but Neil still knows that taking it slow is the right move. It’s why he was so surprised when that proposal slipped off his tongue. Proposing after nearly a year of dating isn’t exactly moving at a slow pace. He supposes his feelings for her— the overwhelming urge to marry her— overcame all the voices of reason telling him to take it easy for fear of scaring her off.

Now though? Now it’s a whole different story.

He stays quiet for a second too long and the small smile on her face fades, bringing in a nervous glance instead. “I mean, only if you want to ask me,” she adds awkwardly after a moment.

“God yes I do,” he assures her. It sparks a small giggle from Claire, her eyes now sparkling and glossy with what Melendez thinks are tears of joy. “I just... I figured you might want it to be a bit different from this. I don’t even have a ring.”

“Well you know me, I’ve always hated romantics,” she dismisses with a watery chuckle.

He laughs in return and smiles until his cheeks hurt. The space between them on the bed slowly closes as Neil inches forward, dragging the sheets with him and taking her hands in his. “You... you are the single best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he starts. The awe in his own voice surprises him a little, but it’s not unexpected. Spend enough time around Dr. Browne and you’ll get used to incredible. That’s what he’d said around a year ago, and it still rings true now. He’s also said being around her makes him a better surgeon and person, which is also very true. She just makes him better, in everything he does. “I love you more than I thought was possible. So, Dr. Browne...” Claire lets out another watery laugh but her hands start to shake in his, so Neil holds them tighter. “... Will you marry me?”

There’s a moment where everything is quieter than silence. Neil starts hearing ringing in his ears, a throbbing sensation that this could go very wrong. Or, as he suspects (and hopes), it could go very very right. And he knows this is weird— that not-so accidentally proposing to your girlfriend while half-naked on a Sunday morning isn’t exactly the traditional way to ask someone to spend the rest of their life with you— but he just doesn’t care. Neil wants to have a life with her. He wants the whole package, the thing they’ve both been searching for long before finding each other. The life they’d almost given up hope on. And not for the first time since he’s met her, he wants it with Claire Browne.

And the silence is broken, like a dam flooding with a river that ends up only being one word. “Yes,” she whispers, tears welling up in her eyes. “Yes, I will marry you.”

Neil can tell, even without looking in a mirror, that his face lights up at those words. His cheeks hurt from smiling so widely, his body practically aches for her.

A year ago, he wouldn’t have dreamed of unprofessional touches or intimate moments. He’d been so scared to cross the line, the point of no return. But now, he’s about to spend the rest of his life with the most talented, kind, incredible woman he’s ever met, and he doesn’t have to be scared. He leans over, meets her in the middle of the bed while on their knees, and kisses her without hesitation.

It’s sweet, the way Claire’s kiss is always a sweet release to him, and beautiful. Admittedly, he feels tears of his own coming on and tastes the salt streaming onto their lips from both of their eyes.

Claire pulls away after a while, laughing and smiling while crying. They’re both blubbering messes at this point, filled with overwhelming tenderness.

“What do we do for a ring?” Neil finally asks after they both compose themselves a little bit.

Claire looks around the room, ruffles around the drawer of the nightstand for something, and then finally pulls out a sharpie. “Here,” she says, pulling the cap off. Melendez watches in shock as Claire scribbles a line all the way around her ring finger, forming the trace of a ring with black ink. “It’s not a permanent solution, but it’ll do.”

Neil laughs giddily. Only Claire Browne would draw an engagement ring on her finger. There’s truly no one like her, and he loves her for it. “It looks beautiful, Dr. Browne,” he teases.

“It’s just until we get something nice. And when we do, it better not be anything big or tacky or expensive. But that’s just my preference. You know— just a suggestion,” she finishes with a smirk.

“Right,” he chuckles. “And I suggest you kiss me now.”

“That can be arranged,” she quips back teasingly, smiling as she leans in with her hands on his bare chest.

Neil smiles into the kiss, his lips pressing against hers. His hands find her hips and pull her in until they’re flush against each other. They crash onto the bed in a frenzy of blankets, Neil settling on top of her gently, and he sees Claire’s beaming smile and the black ink around her ring finger.

It’s the last thing he sees before he moves in to kiss her again. Neil tastes her lips on his, and thinks proposing to her was the best suggestion he ever made.

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

There's More Than One Way To Start An Apocalypse (3)

Summary: The Infinity War had happened and Thanos had won. 5 years later the Avengers try one last crazy idea to save everyone they lost, but a mysterious woman from Natasha's past drops in unexpectedly derailing their plans. They soon find out that Thanos was now not the apocalypse they needed to stop.

Fandoms: Avengers, Supernatural

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader (previous), Natasha Romanoff x Reader (previous)

Warnings: Angst, The Damn Snap, Mentions of depression and self-loathing, violence, mentions of death, copious amounts of blood, cursing, mentions of past trauma

Masterlist

3: Rewritten

Natasha woke up alone and disoriented hours later on one of the patient beds. Instinct dictated that she take a defensive stance immediately, but she relaxed when she recognized the plain white walls and the distinct sterile air of the medical bay. She pulled herself up and cursed whoever had knocked her out. It was probably Banner, she thought. He was the only one running around with needles most of the time. She would pay him back for that later.

The walk back to the section they kept the Cradle was quiet and only served to emphasize the clinical vibe from the fluorescent lights in the corridors. She vaguely wondered where the rest of her team was, but mostly she was focused on getting back to your side.

Her heart clenched painfully as she caught sight of you. They had transferred you from the Cradle to a bed when you seemed stable enough to heal on your own. She dragged a chair closer to your side and sat there watching your steady breathing while holding one of your hands carefully avoiding the many IVs.

They had apparently cleaned you up before transferring you because now you didn't look like you went ten rounds bare-fisted with a chainsaw. Only a few blotches of blood on your arms remained along with some flecks along your hairline and ears.

She gently brushed the stray hair away from your face, taking extra care not to touch the oxygen mask strapped to you. she took note of the color and length of your hair now. She smiled knowing that you had always preferred to keep it this way. the color was also returning to your skin. Aside from the many bandages, you looked exactly like how she remembered you.

She held your hand to her lips and closed her eyes as she allowed the relief to wash over her. The tension on her shoulders relaxed and the lines on her forehead smoothened.

" Are you praying, Natasha?"

"Oh my god!" Natasha jumped at the sudden unfamiliar voice. Quick as light she had drawn one of the knives she always kept on her person and pointed it at the threat.

What her eyes met though was a fresh faced boy who looked like he couldn't be much older than Peter. He was sitting up two beds over looking at her with curious eyes and a wide boyish grin. He reminded her of a puppy or an excitable child.

He didn't seem phased at the fact that she had just drawn a knife on him and that she knew at least 70 ways of killing him instantly with it. It was only when she followed his movements and watched as he ripped off several IVs attached to his arm that she recalled who he was. The blonde boy was who brought you here on the brink of death in his arms.

She was slightly embarassed that she overlooked the presence of another person in her vicinity. So much for her world class spy reputation. She blamed Banner and his damn sedative.

"Jack," the boy said as he rubbed the spot the IVs were.

Natasha blinked. "What?"

"I'm not god. I'm just," he paused. "Jack."

His smile widened as he slowly approached your bed. A sudden urge to protect you bloomed in Natasha's chest but Jack looked decidedly non- threatening with his Bambi aura. It was confusing as hell to her.

He leaned in closer to examine you with his  head tilting to the side and a small furrow on the bridge of his nose as he focused. Satisfied, he turned his head to Natasha and beamed happily at her.

"You have saved her. I am truly grateful, Natasha."

"You know who I am?" she asked resolved to at least getting some answers from this boy disorienting though as he was.

He nodded his head excitedly. "She talks about you all the time! She talks so ..." he paused seemingly trying to think of the right word.

" Fondly," he decided proudly. "She always talks so fondly of you and you would know better than anyone how she gets when she tells her stories. I feel like I've always known you."

A knowing smile crept on her lips at the memory. Yes, you did have a habit of telling vivid stories with the goal to make sure whoever was listening feel like they were reliving it with you. Her heart warmed at the thought of you telling other people about her.

There were questions burning a hole in Natasha's mind. She couldn't help but take advantage of Jack's accommodating nature.

"Jack?"

"Yes, Natasha?"

" Are you - ?" she started.

He smiled knowingly. "Like her you mean? Well, yes. I guess you could say..." he paused again trying to find the correct term.

"You could say we're related. Like cousins!"

Her eyebrows raised high and her mouth opened in surprise. This was complete news to her. A thousand other questions sprung from one answer, but she didn't get a chance to ask because Jack suddenly slumped over with both hands gripping his head. He whined and grunted in pain as the high pitched ringing attacked his senses.

"Jack, are you okay?" Natasha asked urgently going around to check on Jack. She remembered that you would have episodes like that too. You always waived it off and said it was just a chronic migraine. She knew it was just an excuse to keep her from worrying and she wondered now if Jack would do the same.

"I'm good. Just a bad headache," he said with a forced smile. You certainly were related, Natasha thought.

"You shouldn't even be standing yet. You came in pretty banged up too," she grabbed his arm and urged him back to bed.

He waived her off and tried to straighten up. "I am completely fine."

He slowly turned back to your unconscious form, his eyes betraying the emotions he felt: gratitude, guilt, and a firey determination. There was a beat of silence where he only stared at you before speaking again.

"We're all completely fine because of her."

Natasha was surprised and grew more confused, but she pushed at the opportunity to find out more. The curiousity getting the better of her.

"Jack, tell me what happened," she swallowed the lump in her throat. She wanted answers but she was scared to know what you had gotten into to end up inches from death and needing 36 vials of super soldier serum to stabilize you.

Jack smiled sheepishly at her. "You'll find out soon enough. Besides, I think your friends are back. I wouldn't want to interrupt."

Natasha tried to not get frustrated at Jack's cryptic words. Whatever she was going to reply got caught in her throat though as her attention shifted  toward the sound of the doors swinging open. A voice she thought she would never hear again filtered through.

"Hey, Red," the unmistakable teasing tone of Sam Wilson rang in her ears coupled with his signature smirk.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. This couldn't be real. He vanished with the Snap. As if the universe knew she needed further proof, one by one they started filing into the room quickly crowding the small space.

"It's really us, Nat," Wanda said her eyes filled with tears holding her arms slightly open to invite her friend for a long overdue embrace.

She resisted the urge to rub her eyes for fear that it might dissolve the wonderful illusion in front of her.

She soaked up each face that she had missed terribly for the last 5 years and haunted her dreams all the while she felt her heart break and piece back together simultaneously.

She finally gave in and threw herself onto Wanda's waiting arms staining each other's shirts with tears as they clung to each other tightly. She went from one tearful reunion to another until the fear that this was all just a cruel dream had vanished.

Jack was right. Her friends were back.

Masterlist

Taglist:

@username23345 @closetbtstrash

[bruh-haikyuu]

Dear oik suckers can I ask for some comedy of oikawa and kags liking the same girl

A/N: Hana I see u 👀

viridity. | oikawa tōru + kageyama tobio

word count: 2482

warnings: none

(n.) naive innocence

It’s perfect. It’s so ideal, Oikawa nearly jumps up and down screaming. You’ll love it. You’ll love it so much you’ll actually jump up and down screaming like he’s aching to. And after that, when he tells you how he feels, you can’t possibly say no.

White Day is going to be middle school third-year Oikawa Tooru’s day. Anyone who plans otherwise is getting a volleyball to the head very, very soon. He’s saved up for this moment the entire year and took up as much part-time jobs as his schedule could handle. Resisted ever burning urge to get new knee pads, so he could afford the very item being displayed on the front window of the chocolate shop.

“My lucky day,” Oikawa thinks as his hand reaches out for the last daintily wrapped box of bittersweet chocolate on the shelf. Nothing is going to stop him now...

Except the pristinely kept hand that takes ahold of the box at the same time. The pristinely kept hand that extends all the way to the torso of the last kouhai he needed to see right now.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Kageyama knows that this present screams you in every fashion. You, his precious second-year upperclassman, who’d brought a dazzling light into his world whenever you entered a room. It’s the type of chocolate that isn’t too bitter but not sweet also; it’s milky, and just the way you like it. If Kageyama doesn’t get it for you, he doesn’t know what he’ll do to himself.

White Day is going to be middle school first-year Kageyama Tobio’s day. He’s practiced day and night for the day where he’d finally tell you how he feels; hearing you say no, would be the death of him, but if you’d miraculously say yes... well, he’ll think of the intricacies later. You’ll love this gift from him, much better than any gift you’ll ever have. It’ll be a gift where you’d profusely say you couldn’t accept it, but would eventually prize it for years to come.

Kageyama thinks, “This chocolate is mine.” Thrusting out his arm to slip the last beautifully wrapped box into his hands, he pictures your sparkling smile when he presents this to you and professes his love.

But he’d spoke to soon, when he feels another hand gripping the other end of the box. Another hand that belonged to the upperclassman who could ruin everything he’d ever planned up to this day.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

“Tobio-chan.”

“Senpai.”

Oikawa wants to laugh, and then cry and then curse at the gods for his unfortunate encounter. How fitting. Of course Kageyama wants the exact same thing as him as well; all he’d ever done was did what Oikawa had done and made it look better when he was doing it. But now he had to develop a similar eye for chocolate too? Oikawa nearly growls, but pits the feeling deep in his stomach.

Meanwhile, Kageyama tethers on the brink of pulling the chocolate from his upperclassman’s hands and running away. But if you’d heard he’d done such a thing, Kageyama would never be able to live with himself anymore. Why now? he thinks. And out of all the people to do it too... Kageyama deems himself as a rather unlucky person.

But neither of them even thinks of backing down. It was this chocolate, or eternal shame that will haunt them until they’re crippled and dusty.

“Tobio-chan,” Oikawa starts, gripping the box hard enough for veins to pop from the contours of his skin. Despite this, he’s sporting an impressive grin enough to make the shopkeeper’s knees go weak. “What a surprise to see you here.”

Kageyama, on the other hand, does not spare a single smile to his senior, and tugs the box harder towards him. “I believe it’s more surprising that we’ve gotten ourselves in this situation, Senpai.”

“Oh, you think so?” the older boy gripes, pulling the gift and Kageyama to his side. “Say, what a tough grip you’ve got here. You must really want this very specific box of chocolates specially designed for the female species which is coincidentally the last on the shelf.”

“Of course, it’s a gift unlike any other.”

“Who’re you planning to give it to? I don’t remember you being this forward with girls,” Oikawa feels slightly childish, having to go through a tug of war with a first-year middle schooler in the midst of a refined candy shop. But if it means getting this present for you, it’s to hell with everything. “Is it Misaki-chan? Or that cute girl with pigtails in your class?... Don’t tell me you have a crush on Y/N-chan...”

Kageyama would rather have been run over by a bus than admit anything to anyone—particularly a senior who’d almost tried to “subjugate” him with bitter violence. But hearing your name, in reference to the feelings he’d harbored for you, boils his blood to the peak.

“So it is Y/N-chan... How regrettable, then. Because I was planning to give this to her too.”

Oikawa wishes his naive junior didn’t turn red. But alas, that is the truth, and the truth is that the both of them are rivals when it comes to your affections. The truth is that the dewy-eyed genius Tobio-chan and the apex predator Oikawa are destined adversaries, whether they like it or not. Yet frankly, they just want a break from each other.

Neither of them are letting their iron grips go loose, even by a single millimeter. Determination is scribbled all over Kageyama’s face, his features scrunching up like a week-old prune left out in the sun. Little by little, he also spots the faint animalistic aura from his senpai, who doesn’t seem very pleased with their little “game”.

“Please let go, Oikawa-senpai. I grabbed it first.”

He laughs in return, “Well I liked Y/N-chan first. You let go, Tobio-chan~”

“I won’t let Y/N-senpai’s heart fall to the Demon King’s hands.”

“Ha?! What’d you call me, you brat?! Say it again! Let’s see what happens!”

No, no, no, no. This is not supposed to be how it was going to go. Oikawa was just going to head into the candy shop, grab the last box of chocolates and pay for it with the hard-earned money he’d collected. Then, the next day on White Day, he would give it to you at the private corner in the school courtyard with the blossoming plum tree. You’d smile that smile he loved, then he’d confess. You’d blush and shyly nod and you live happily ever after. Bla bla bla. End of story.

That was the plan. Until Oikawa found himself locked in a tug-of-war with his stone-faced underclassman in a petite candy shop with all its patrons staring at them—he even swears he noticed a father whisper to her slobbery daughter: “Ume-chan, they’re the kinds of boys you’ll want to avoid dating when you grow up, okay?”

“Give it up, Tobio-chan! I’m prettier!”

“Well, I’m not a narcissist!”

“At least I know how to read kanji!”

“Th-That’s not important! I saw it first, senpai—”

Kageyama doesn’t know if he is lucky or cursed, but when a shrill voice suddenly cuts off their heated dispute, he is sent flying back against the vending machine with the faintly crumpled package of chocolates held tightly to his chest. Did I win? he asks himself before being met with a pair of round black eyes reflecting his fatigued face.

“Mama, look, look! I found the chocolate!” a young boy, not older than six, is sidled in front of Kageyama who’s slumping lowly against the snack dispenser from the awkward distance. His stubbly finger is pointed at the chocolates, with the powerful conviction of need.

“Adachi-kun! What did I tell you about pointing at people like that?” the boy’s mother quickly emerges from the crowd to take her son by the hand. Her expression is apologetic, but her son’s gaze does not break away from the box in Kageyama’s hands.

“B-but, Kokoro-chan really, really likes this chocolate. She gave me those really nice candies on Valentine’s and I want to give her something back for White Day—”

Adachi-kun’s mother smiles at him before her kind expression is replaced with one of remorse. “That’s very sweet of you... But these young men saw it first and probably want to give this chocolate to the girl they like too. Let’s go buy Kokoro-chan something else, okay?”

Seeing the boy literally droop, Oikawa and Kageyama feel something wilt inside of them too. Mumbling incoherently, he bows to Kageyama, “Sorry for pointing at you, Big Bro...”

After the boy’s mother does four consecutive bows to Oikawa and Kageyama each, the two boys retreat back to the shelf where the box of chocolates were. It’s nearly pathetic, bordering on lame. Sure, Kageyama got the chocolate, but something hollow blooms in his heart. You’ll love it, but at what cost? Just so that a kid couldn’t give back a gift for someone he loves?

Oikawa cringes in silence, his eyes glancing back and forth at the chocolate in his junior’s hands and the sunken back of the young boy. He doesn’t say but he sees himself in him—fated to lose inevitably to the whims of chance. Sighing, Oikawa ponders about his day; it just keeps getting more and more difficult for no reason. And he wants to know why.

“You can have it.”

Kageyama’s dim voice nearly throws him off. The chocolate being shoved to Oikawa’s chest is even more of a shock. His expression is painfully strained, but his needless request is genuine—and Oikawa’s pissed off again.

“Me?! I don’t want it either now. Geez...”

The younger boy furrows his brows, “So what am I supposed to do with this, senpai?”

“You tell me,” his eyes are still lingering over to the tiny figure of the boy. The postures of the two middle schoolers are that of surrender.

And surrender is what they do.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Thanks to the “whims of chance”, both Kageyama and Oikawa are lacking the gift they’d sought for you on White Day. But thanks to those same “whims of chance”, a girl out there called Kokoro-chan was going to get the best chocolates ever from a boy she liked. The feeling is not realistically satisfying, but at least they can brag a story to you one day.

Oikawa is tired out. Completely drained; battery level 0%. After leaving the shop with empty hands and a full pocket of saved money, he figured he’d get you another gift. But if it took him half a year to figure out the first one, how long was it going to take to figure out his plan B?

“Why not try something homemade? I think your feelings can convey to others better if you do it from scratch,” his mother had smiled that evening, presenting him with two bars of cooking chocolate.

Oikawa had been excited. His mother was a genius. While everyone else was giving out those crappy, factory-made chocolates, Oikawa’s gift to you was going to be straight out of his own kitchen. It was going to be perfect, ideal—

...Until he found out he didn’t have much of a talent for cooking.

So walking in the second-year hallways is volleyball celebrity Oikawa Tooru, face pallid from pulling an all-nighter to figure out how in hell his chocolate had turned green. In his hands are those treats, packed prettily in heart-patterned plastic with a satin bow (thank god for that), as an attempt to hide the fortunately less green globs of chocolate within them.

Well, if you’re not going to like the chocolate, at least you’ll appreciate the wrapping. Oikawa thinks, lazily drifting through throngs of blushing second-years.

Kageyama is on the other end of the hallway, a crumpled scrap of paper sitting in his hand. If you listen closely, you’ll hear his distinct voice forcing out a... i-is that a mantra? Thankfully, Kageyama has no intention to recite a Buddhist prayer to you on White Day—instead, it’s a love poem, uncharacteristically being brought to you by your pensive junior.

He doesn’t even recall what sparked him to write it (though he was rather suspicious of his sister’s magazines lying around the house). Did he even ask his mother or sister to proofread it? Well, he was thankful that he didn’t, because if he did, they’d either laugh or scold him for his poor use of four-character idioms.

It isn’t chocolate, but it’s straight from the heart. Yet how he wishes the incident at the candy shop didn’t have to extend all the way to little Adachi-kun’s plight. Now you were going to think of him as a joke with no prowess for literature—not that he was one in the first place...

“Oh, senpai.”

“Tobio-chan, we meet in this situation again, I see.”

Neither of them had realized that they’d reach the doors of your classroom until they locked eyes with each other. They’re both too tired to argue at this point, better yet, scorn each other. Oikawa who’d spent the night conjuring a tornado in his mother’s kitchen and Kageyama who’d surprised his family by cracking open a literature book. You’ll never know what’s coming.

“Well, here we are,” Oikawa says, tossing his gift up and down like it’s nothing more than a baseball. “The final judgment.”

“She will choose between us, Demon King-senpai.”

Oikawa’s eyebrows twitch in exasperation but he makes no move to choke the boy. “Stop calling me that, the “senpai” at the end doesn’t do any help you know... I don’t get what’s going on in your head, but may the best gift win the Y/N-chan’s heart, I guess.”

Kageyama politely nods and urges his senior to open the door. When it slides away to reveal your beautiful, smiling face, the boys’ jaws drop when they see what’s piled on your desk.

They nearly forget how popular you are. They nearly forget that there are hundreds of boys and girls out there who’re just as in love with you as they are. And what’s worse is that the mountains of chocolate, love letters and poems don’t seem to stop growing as more people crowd around you.

It’s even worse when they spot at least ten of a familiar box of chocolates in the masses. The same boxes of chocolates that they had wrestled for in the candy shop. The same boxes of chocolates that are about to be given to a certain Kokoro-chan today.

“Special”. What a lie, they both curse. Nevertheless, they surrender and join the mob of people anyway, because there is no way in hell are they going to let their late-night efforts go to waste. Even if one looks like a cat’s vomit and the other sounds like a crappy soap opera. You’ll love it anyway. And that’s what they love about you.

[oss-crime]

Chapter 5-Escape of the Witch Salmhofer; Scene 8

Original Sin Story: Crime, pages 202-209

Ever since Gammon’s revolt, an uneasy political situation had carried on in the Twelve Royal Capitals.

The members of the senate were comprised of the heads of the twelve families that ruled over each town—that had been the standard procedure. But Gammon had decided to repeal this and dismiss each of the present members, starting with his father.

However, this caused great deal of backlash. Fearing it would reignite the fires of conflict anew, Gammon established a meeting with the twelve families, and ultimately decided to make the sons of each family into the new senate members.

Due to this, the new senate wound up being comprised largely of young people in their twenties.

Gammon made public that the queen had been in a brainwashed state by Miroku for many years.

“From now on I vow to return to the proper governmental system with the queen at its core.”

Gammon’s decree had relieved the people.

On the other hand, around this point much of the populace had also learned of the queen’s prophecy that foretold the world’s destruction.

As anxieties about this matter began to spread, the new senate headed by Gammon decided to revive Project “Ma”—

.

“—And I’m the one who has been ordered to take responsibility for it…Me, Seth Twiright.”

They were in a room in the Royal Research Institute.

Seth had explained all this to Meta, who was herself seated in a chair.

Outside the room she could hear several people walking about. They were all researchers that Seth had newly hired on, but their true identity was that of the government’s information bureau.

In other words, they were guards there to keep Meta from escaping.

“…So then, when these children are born—” Meta patted her belly, which had grown larger. “You’re saying I’ll become the next queen?”

But Seth sadly shook his head at her question.

“The details of the second Project ‘Ma’ are slightly altered from the previous one…The ‘mother of the gods’ will be able to achieve a sizable reward and commensurate status—but the position of queen will still be performed by Alice Merry-Go-Round.”

“…So the ‘mother of the gods’…only exists to give birth to the ‘Twins of God’.”

“If we didn’t have it that way, the senate would never have given permission for you, a non-virgin, to be fertilized with the ‘Seed of God’, yes?”

But Meta had qualified as an “Ma” candidate back in the first project as well. When she asked Seth about that, he explained with a shrug of his shoulders, “Back then the government still hadn’t obtained any conclusive proof of your and Pale’s relationship.”

“That’s surprisingly sloppy of the government.”

“It’s an issue of them not having a sense of the impending crisis. There’s still a few decades before the time of the destruction—the ‘Gear of Twilight’. For most people, it’s the many issues that are more immediately in front of them that take priority.”

“…”

“But that’s not so for Gammon. He has met with the queen personally—and most likely came into contact with the ‘truth’. Though I don’t know the specific contents of it. At any rate, he has privately become quite desperate to stop the world’s destruction. To the point where he is no longer concerned with keeping up appearances.”

So then…that was the reason why he was seeking an “Ma” candidate that was magically strong, regardless of whether or not they were a criminal.

Meta had already had a “Seed of God” implanted in her stomach by Seth.

She had become pregnant soon after, and started to live hidden away from the world in the royal research institute.

The people most likely had not been made aware of the fact that it was Meta who bore the “Twins of God”.  If it got out that the “Witch of Merrigod” were the “Mother of the Gods”, there’s no way there wouldn’t be an uproar about it.

In all likelihood, once the “Twins of God” were born that fact would be made public by Gammon, and they would be accepted into the populace with great celebration.

But Meta herself—

I’ll be forced to change my name and live as someone else…I suppose that would be preferable. There’s always a chance they’ll kill me to shut me up.

As far as society was concerned, Meta had already been executed in Lighwatch temple.

At the very least, the current government wasn’t a monolith. She could determine that from how Seth had gone out of his way to pull off such a trick to save her (though she didn’t know if it was something he had done on his own or if Gammon had ordered him to). If Yegor had been in on it, there wouldn’t have been any need to fake her death like that.

Though Seth had promised Meta’s safety, there was no guarantee that others would feel similarly.

And Meta didn’t even trust Seth to start with.

The reason why she was still cooperating with him regardless—

“…Hey. Is Pale okay? I wanna see him.”

She had posed this question to Seth several times before.

Each time she did he would dodge the question—

But today was different.

“Relax. I’m a man of my word.”

“Then—”

“Just like you, Pale Noel was executed publicly. But—”

“—He’s actually still alive. …Did you use the same methods as with me?”

“No. I examined him while in prison as a doctor, and…it seemed that Pale’s body had developed some defects. –He can’t maintain his own body without absorbing magical energy from other people.”

Meta had known that already.

But where was he going with this?

“Couldn’t you just…do something about that when he got out of prison?”

“That wouldn’t work. It was my estimation that as he was, Pale wouldn’t have much longer to live. …So I figured this was a good time to have him swap bodies.”

“I…don’t understand what you mean.”

“In that case—I should probably have you see for yourself.” Seth clapped his hands. “Enter.”

On cue the door opened, and a boy entered the room.

“Who’s this kid?” Meta asked.

The one to answer was not Seth, but the boy himself.

“Long time no see, Meta…It’s me, Pale.”

“…Wha?”

Obviously, the Pale that Meta knew wasn’t a boy like this, but an adult man.

But…now that she looked at him properly, his features did seem to resemble Pale’s somewhat.

“Er…So you mean…”

“You must be confused. But—it’s okay. I’ll take this opportunity to explain it all to you.” Pale turned to Seth. “I assume you don’t mind…Brother.”

Seth nodded wordlessly.

Once he’d seen that, Pale turned back to Meta.

“I—am a ‘ghoul child’.”

“…Ghoul child?”

“An artificial human created inside a beaker. My body and personality were all constructed by Seth.”

“You…expect me to believe such a crazy story?”

Pale pointed to Meta’s belly as she drew in her shoulders.

“It’s sort of like—the twins inside your stomach. The only difference is that their mother is a human woman instead of a glass vessel…that’s all it is.”

“…”

Certainly…on the point that they weren’t created by natural intercourse between a man and woman but rather an experiment of Seth’s—

They were the same.

Pale leaned against the wall, and continued his explanation.

“For some time now, Horus—or rather, Seth—has been performing research into the artificial construction of life to make the ‘Next Queen Project’ a reality. The construction of ‘ghoul children’…like myself…could be called a subspecies, or variant, of that.”

“…”

Meta silently listened to him speak, her hands resting on her expanded belly.

This boy’s way of speaking was the same as Pale’s that she knew so well.

“—Though it hasn’t been as simple as all that. Ever since I became an adult, I came to be afflicted with a problem of magical energy…Though that was better than the alternative. The ‘ghoul child’ made after me was just kept in storage as an empty shell, without a personality.”

Pale said that the body he was currently using was recycled from that “empty shell” that had been kept in storage.

“It took quite a bit of time to get my spirit affixed to this body…So we weren’t able to meet like this until now.”

“…You…knew all of this before?”

“Yeah. That’s why I…once ordered you to kill my brother. I had thought—that if I could get rid of the original of me, “Seth”, then I would become the “real” one.”

“Pale…My beloved Pale…My poor Pale…”

Meta stood and walked over to Pale, crouching down and embracing her love.

“…”

Pale looked over at Seth, his short arms around Meta’s back.

“Brother—Could you let me speak to Meta alone for a little bit?”

“…Ah, very well. I’m not so boorish as to get in the way of a lover’s meeting.”

Seth nodded and left the room, humming to himself.

.

--For a short while, the two of them continued to hold each other without a word.

Eventually, Pale whispered to Meta, “Meta…Let’s run away.”

“…!?”

“I can survive like this. There’s…no need for you to do as Seth says.”

“But—”

Meta looked down.

She was looking at her own belly, where her twins resided.

Pale nodded in understanding.

“—That’s right. It’ll be hard to escape with your body heavy with child. When you’re stable after the birth, I’ll…create a diversion. You’ll have to be patient until then.”

“…Alright, I understand.”

“Apocalypse is on the brink of destruction. But as long as we’re together…we can start over again.” Pale pulled away from Meta. “I’ll have to be going home soon.”

“…Where are you living now?”

“Seth’s house. Publicly, I’m his nephew.”

When Pale opened the door, Seth was waiting there to greet him.

“Are you done talking? Then let’s get going.”

Thus prompted, Pale left with Seth.

It almost seemed to Meta as though his limbs were bound with a thin string tied to Seth’s finger.  

<<prev------directory------next>>

[lovelyirony]

 cosmetology anon: this is for you, although I tweaked the idea a bit. i hope you don’t mind! 

Acquiring Tony Stark as an Asset had been purely by chance; after all, he wasn’t planned on being in the car. He was still an insolent teenager, angry with the world and angry with his father. They didn’t think he would’ve gone to a business party. 

But his mother...well. They hadn’t thought that Tony Stark was a mama’s boy. 

Because there Tony is, gasping for air while glass glitters all around him, looking near about like an angel that was torn from heaven with how it surrounded him. 

They had thought he was dead.  

At least, up until the point when he had looked Winter Soldier dead in the eye, said “hey you fucking asshole” and got a pretty damn good shot in the thigh. 

Someone on the brink of death might have tried the gun, but never the insult. 

So Hydra gets a brand new toy. 

Not easily broken, which is a pain-and-a-half to deal with. At least with the Winter Soldier, he was too delirious with blood loss to notice who was operating on him, what they were attaching. 

Tony Stark is on a whole other level. 

He bites, he kicks, he scratches. Quite annoying, they just want him to tire himself out. 

“Stark Industries doesn’t negotiate,” he hisses, trying to kick one of the nurses in the teeth. 

“Who said anything about negotiating?” says the head doctor viciously. His teeth glint in the fluorescent lighting, scalpels reflecting brilliantly onto the walls. “As far as the media knows, you’re dead. No one is going to come looking, and no one even knows who we are.” 

They make him sleep on a cot nearby Winter Soldier. Which is terrifying, to say the least. Not that he can kill him. He can’t touch him either. 

He’s in a deep freezer. Eyes closed, thank god. But they put him there and they tell him all about how he came to be there. 

“Everyone thought Barnes hit a rock and died,” one of the techs says, checking the machine. “He nearly did, but Zola helped us fix him up. Course, that was after a couple of times where he got to someone’s neck, and that was even before programming.” 

“Programming?” 

The tech leers at him, grinning. He’s standing, Tony’s sitting. It shouldn’t be as intimidating as it is. 

“Oh yeah, Stark. They’re gonna fix you all up.” 

“I don’t need fixing.” 

“Tell that to Winter Soldier.” 

“And what if your little machine gets rid of me, hm? Kills me?” 

“We add you to the other disappointments, or we dig a shallow grave and hope you’re found decades later.” 

Not exactly promising. 

But here’s the thing: the tech was wrong. They won’t add him to the pile of disappointments. 

The last time he went to a therapy appointment, his therapist said he had a “deep-seated need to be liked and be useful, which could be dangerous later.” 

He’s assuming that Doc Chesterfield wasn’t exactly expecting Tony to be in the running towards becoming America’s Next Top Murder Machine, but Doc wasn’t really the kind of guy who was “in the know” about a lot of things. 

That need to be liked and useful was about to come in handy.  

Barely able to legally drink, he goes to the main doctor in charge. “You need me.” 

The doctor looks at him incredulously. 

“You think we need a kid to do all this shit? You think we haven’t figured it out?” 

“You can’t have Barnes-” 

“Winter Soldier, boy.” 

“Fine, your little toy soldier. You can’t keep him out longer than necessary, otherwise his brain realizes that all of you are shitty and tries to break out. Again. You need someone else to take a look at it, and I’m the best bet you got.” 

“And why would that be?” 

Tony grins, and they see a shadow of what he has had in his life, exactly just who he used to be. Who he still is, at the moment. 

“Whether you want to admit it or not--I’d say go ahead and admit it, I’m fun like that--I’m the smartest one in the room, maybe in the country. Maybe in two countries. I could swing the UK, it’s not like they’ve had anything interesting for the last hundred or so years--” 

“Get to the point,” the handler hisses. 

“I can help with arm maintenance. I’m not gonna do anything else to this poor guy, but I wanna stay alive and I’m not letting you erase my fucking mind because you want to have another toy soldier to march to your drum.” 

“You almost make a compelling case,” the handler says. “We do need a mechanic on the arm, so to speak. But if he only comes out when we need him...well. Maintenance is manageable.” 

Tony pushes his chin out. 

“I can do better than your best.” 

“Unfortunately, I don’t care. You’re too big of a liability.” 

It is at this moment that Tony realizes he cannot talk his way out, or fight his way out, but damn he gets a scalpel and tries. 

Manages to slice across the face of the handler. Nerve damage, tissue damage, quite potentially a very ugly nose. All very nice. 

That gets him moved up by a month. 

They send him to a chair that’s probably a lot worse than he’s imagining, give him a mouth guard, and tell him to scream all he likes. Sometimes it’s better to not have a voice later. 

They say it like they’re quoting one of those shitty articles from Cosmopolitan that discusses the top forty-five best ways to move in the bedroom or something. He and Rhodey use to read it all the time whenever they visited one of the sororities. 

(He misses Rhodey, more than words can say. The tears burn in his throat as the chair powers up, but he doesn’t dare cry. He hasn’t told them about Rhodey, and he doesn’t want him used against him. 

He doesn’t want to be used against Rhodey.) 

- 

Tony Stark becomes the Mechanic. He stares too long, moves a bit slow at times, and doesn’t like people touching his things. 

Hydra thinks it’s a success. 

-

Tony thinks they should’ve done more than three sessions of go-round for their little buzzy-chair. 

-

Just god, have none of them had to act before? Is that what this is? 

So long as he doesn’t show any aspect of any real personality, they think he’s a walking-talking robot. 

Should’ve just called him Chatty Cathy and attached a pull-string to his back with loadable phrases if they were just gonna call him the Mechanic and think his silence and weird staring habits were fine. 

Winter Soldier needs maintenance. 

Tony tries very carefully to keep his persona up. He thinks he’s doing a good job until the nurse leaves the room for her smoke-break and Winter Soldier gives him a look that’s so...different. 

"They think you’re like me.” 

“I am.” 

“No.” 

“And how can you tell?” 

“You’re not hurting my arm.” 

“Well I can, if you wanna be a masochist about it.” 

He blankly stares. 

“Why didn’t it work?” 

“Not enough rounds.” 

“We need to stop talking or they’ll watch the cameras.” 

“Got it.” 

Tony is not facing the cameras. They have no suspicion now, and if they can’t see him move his lips, then there’s no worry. 

He faces Winter Soldier. 

“You wanna get out of here? Tap once on your left, right on my thigh for yes. Twice for no.” 

Tap. 

There it is. 

“Well, it’ll take time. You okay with that?” 

Tap tap. 

“I can’t make wishes come true,” Tony says sarcastically. Soldier hides a smile. “But. I have someone who might be looking for me. Or he’ll know it’s me.” 

“A friend?” 

“Something better. Family.” 

It takes a little while. Despite Hydra’s incompetence at programming Tony out of his own system, they’re good at watching. They’re good at sniffing out undercover plans, so they set nurses to watch him and give him the worst food in his life. 

And he can’t say anything about it. 

They’re probably rations leftover from World War II, and here he is, pretending like it doesn’t bother him. 

The first mission they’re out on, Tony wants so badly to break free. It looks too easy, probably because it is. 

“The first time I escaped, they dragged me back and nearly gave me a matching leg to go with the arm,” Soldier murmurs in Russian. 

(Tony’s had to take Russian classes. God, he’s lucky he has an eidetic memory otherwise he’d be up a paddle with a slotted spoon.) 

“What, didn’t want to put more value on yourself?” 

“Something like that,” Soldier says grimly. “Pay attention. They’re gonna put you in a cafe, have you run surveillance. You report back to me. Call me Winter.” 

“Call me Mechanic.” 

“That’s the name they chose?” 

“Didn’t count my vote.” 

Winter snorts. 

“Time to get a move on.” 

Tony has never been good at hiding his emotions, but by god he’s learning on the fly. At least Winter has a mask, and they’re...well, they’re working on one for him. 

It’s not exactly priority, because everyone in the world thinks he’s dead. 

- 

Well. Shouldn’t say everyone. There is one guy who has decided that Tony didn’t die. 

James Rhodes is a very smart guy, graduated top of his class at MIT and has full honors. 

He also knows that Tony has fallen off of beds, out of chairs, down one flight of stairs, and tripped on just about everything. 

And he’s lived. He has defied near-death experiences before, and he’s been fine. 

Maybe Rhodey is crazy. He most likely is. 

But he doesn’t mind being crazy if no one can actually confirm that Tony died. The funeral was closed for the family, not even Rhodey could go. 

“Sorry kiddo,” Obie had said, not sorry at all. He’s never liked the kid, thought him too blunt about situations that he didn’t need to be blunt about. 

So Rhodey thinks that this is a conspiracy, only he doesn’t want his best friend to end up on a YouTube video five years later talking about the “tragic disappearance” and how “no one could figure it out.” 

He’s James fucking Rhodes. Sometimes goes by Rhodey. And he’s got this. 

- 

Winter Soldier does not “got this.” He is currently being thrown against a wall, and grunting as he looks at the target. 

Tony is currently trying very hard not to have a full-blown emotional show-off, because he is supposed to be fixing up some of the weapons and sending them out. 

It is rather stress-inducing, once you start thinking about it. 

He tries not to. 

God, he’s not even getting pizza after that. He’s probably going to get some bullshit like a vanilla nutritional protein shake. 

Out everything he’s been put through, and that’s the thing that makes him retch.

 - 

Barnes is looking...rough. He got shoved a lot, the mission didn’t exactly go to plan, which turns out to be quite the large problem. 

Because Tony took over. They found out that he can actually assemble weaponry and aim with nearly-one-hundred-percent accuracy. 

They think it’s because they fried his brain and injected some sort of back-alley-serum. 

It’s not. 

He’s not even sure if their serum worked, if he’s being completely honest.

But this? Oh god. 

The doctors look at him with an almost giddy joy. 

“We’ll have Soldier train you.” 

"He is not going back into the cryogenic chambers?” 

“No, not...not until you prove yourself.” 

“I have proven myself accurate with mechanical fixes.” 

“Always best to diversify your skills.” 

“Expand.” 

(Tony’s been messing with them a lot. They’re not positive he knows advanced vocabulary. He does, he just hates them.) 

Barnes is...not exactly excited that he’s not becoming an ice-pop. 

“I’m...training you?” 

“Yeah, looks like it. You wanna teach me how to choke someone with my thighs?” 

“Only when they send the Widows.” 

“Who are they?” 

“Best damned assassins you’ll ever have the displeasure of experiencing.” 

“Aw, you’re learning how to curse!” 

“Shut up, they’re onto us.” 

- 

Winter Soldier and the Mechanic have a...cordial relationship. At least, out of the ring. 

In the ring, they don’t rather like the other that much. Mechanic much prefers to avoid Soldier at all times. 

“You can’t just run from every opponent,” Winter hisses. 

“You’ve been doing it since 1948,” Tony responds in a robotic tone, nearly missing a kick to the shins. “I don’t see why not.” 

He smiles at that one, looking at Tony. 

He was...Tony was unique. He would whisper stories in the dead of night, mostly about a man named Jarvis and a boy his age named “Rhodey.” 

“His parents...they didn’t actually name him that, did they?” 

Tony has to bury his face in his pillow to hide his face from laughing. 

Winter got a good look at that smile. 

It’s chillingly nice to look at it, and maybe that’s because he hasn’t smiled in years, or maybe it’s because he’s never seen another person smile with joy in it for decades. 

- 

For a couple more months, nothing on their side happens. 

Rhodey, however, learns how to use Tony’s homemade AI for illegal purposes! 

He’s figured out lots of things. 

Tony was never confirmed dead. Technically, he’s a missing person. 

Which means they don’t know if he’s dead because they never found him. 

Secondly, there’s a strange email to someone who goes by Zola. 

Well, Rhodey and Tony didn’t stay up until three a.m. to solve impossible codes for nothing. 

James Rhodes figures out that the Winter Soldier isn’t some whispered about myth, and so he decides to try and find him. 

He’ll need to ask Mama if he can use the sedan, but it should be fine. After all, he has a friend to find. 

- 

Hydra is getting too used to having them out. Tony’s been coaching Barnes on not letting his reactions be at the front and center. 

He’s remembering a lot more. Starting to become a bit more human-like. 

He actually doesn’t like the food now, which is a tasteful improvement. 

“When we get out,” Tony whispers in night. “I’m going to make sure that you get the best goddamned pizza the earth has ever seen. And we’ll celebrate your birthday.” 

“When is my birthday?” 

“I...huh. I don’t know. That’s not the fact I remember from school.” 

“So you remembered that my favorite movie star was Hedy Lamarr, but not my own birthday?” 

“In my defense, Ms. Lamarr is far more memorable than a simple date on the calendar.” 

Barnes smiles. 

“I can’t wait to see a picture of her.” 

“You will, soon.” 

- 

Rhodey is getting close. 

The only barrier is convincing his mama to use the sedan. 

“What for?” 

“A trip.” 

“To?” 

“Washington DC?” 

“Why are you questioning that, young man?” 

“Um, because of gas money? Maybe?” 

Mrs. Rhodes stands up to her full height of five-foot-two and stares. 

“What’s the real reason? I didn’t raise a son who could lie to his mother successfully.” 

Rhodey sighs. 

“Tony’s alive. I think. I’m, like, ninety-five-percent sure.” 

Her face softens. 

“Oh baby, you’ve talked about this with your therapist, and-” 

Rhodey glares. 

“It’s not about the therapist’s opinion, mom. I broke into some records. There was a closed-casket funeral, and technically? They didn’t have a body for Tones. I know he’s out there, and I think I got a lead with the help of Jarvis.” 

“I thought Jarvis was dead.” 

“Not Edwin, Mama. Tony’s creation, an AI named Jarvis.” 

Mama looks at him carefully. 

“You sure this is what is going to make you happy?” 

“I don’t care about being happy, I want to see if I can bring him home, Mama.” 

She dangles the keys. 

“If you scratch this car up, I will not hesitate to tell every single aunt at church about this and have common sense walloped into you.” 

“I promise I won’t,” Rhodey says. “I know what I’m doing.” 

“I’ll pack you a bag. And you need your church clothes.” 

“Ma...” 

“Don’t Ma me, I’m your mother, I know what’s best,” Mrs. Rhodes says, sweeping into the kitchen. “Don’t tell your daddy what you told me, you’ll give him a heart attack.” 

“I thought I was gonna give you a heart attack,” Rhodey says. 

She turns, eyes twinkling. 

“You got a lot of learning to do, young man. But go on to DC for me.” 

First stop: gas station. 

Next stop: saving Tony. 

- 

If Tony had known that his friend was so dedicated to saving him that he would drive his mama’s sedan five miles above the speed limit, perhaps he would have stayed put and played nice. 

But Tony did not know this, so he was currently working on fixing Barnes’ arm to shoot projectile missiles that looked like screws to the security cameras. 

“You think they’re counting each screw when none of them even know what your arm can actually do? Not like Zola is physically around anymore,” Tony mutters, holding a screwdriver in his mouth. 

“What’s your plan for escape?” 

“Element of surprise, my dear Watson.” 

“Don’t like that,” Barnes mutters. “What’s your plan once we’re out?” 

“New York City.” 

“That’s it?” 

“You underestimate exactly how much you can hide,” Tony says. “Believe me. We’ll live in an apartment in Queens.” 

- 

Rhodey is about ten minutes away. 

Tony and Bucky have eventually decided to break out, and are having a lovely time shooting a base and putting people through the walls. Really, they shouldn’t have made it out of drywall. Too easy. 

“What fucking vehicle are we taking?!” Barnes yells. 

“I...I will work on it!” 

“You didn’t think about that?!” 

“I was thinking about escaping from a shitty Hydra base!” 

- 

Here comes the sedan! 

- 

Rhodey thought there was only one person, so now the ex-assassin is sitting on his little sister’s school folder, and getting pink glittery on his military pants. 

This was not the plan. 

He is also still only going five over the speed limit, because this is Mama’s sedan. 

He forgot about the little sticker at the back that says “My Son is on the Honor Roll at MIT!” 

“Rhodey love of my life, please go faster than forty miles an hour,” Tony hisses. 

“I can’t believe you’re alive, let me do one thing at a time,” Rhodey stresses. “I bought you hot fries, they’re on the floor in the green bag.” 

“You thought of road trip snacks?” Bucky asks. 

“Yes! And who are you?” 

“Bucky Barnes.” 

Rhodey whips his head around. 

“You lived?” 

“I’ve been told. Eyes on the road and turn left.” 

One tire barely is on the road as he whips the wheel, slamming onto the curb. 

“We are not allowed to fuck my mama’s car up!” Rhodey yells. “Tony, Bucky...do whatever you have to.” 

“How amenable are you to me paying for a new back window?” Bucky asks, left arm already raising. 

“What do you mean-?” 

And...there goes a projectile! 

- 

After twenty minutes of driving around, ten of that being avoiding police blockades, they finally are out on the highway, no one in sight. 

Tony finally breathes. 

“Put on your seatbelt,” Rhodey murmurs. “To New York?” 

“To New York.” 

- 

By all accounts, the table of three men who look slightly rattled and in danger is not actually the worst table that waitress has ever had. 

In fact, the only odd thing that she’s going to say about it is that the young man on the left is wearing a polo shirt, and it is not Sunday, so no church services. A personal outfit choice. 

The man in the middle seems to know this. 

“Rhodey, seriously?” 

“What? It’s laundry day!” 

“I know you had other shirts. I know you did.” 

“Just because you hate polo shirts doesn’t mean you get to hate on me, especially after the shit I just pulled.” 

“He has a point,” says the man on the right. 

“You have no opinion on this. I just met you.” 

“Are you guys ready to order?” She asks nervously, tapping at her notepad with a chewed-up pen. 

They all stare blankly at the menu, and then back at her. She taps her pen one more time. 

“I’ll...um...give you some more time.” She shakes her head. She’s not gonna ask, she doesn’t get paid enough. 

-

Rhodey looks at the two of them. He knows that things...well. 

Tony probably isn’t going to be playing Jeopardy! with this experience. 

Hell, he probably won’t want to see a therapist about this, and Rhodey will have to play Jeopardy! or some obscure dating show simulation with Tony to even help. 

And then there’s the matter of a man who’s supposed to be dead. 

That and...Rhodey decided to finish up college with a master’s degree. 

No one ever said life was easy. 

But. 

It might be fun. 

[pyrrhesia]

FF14Write - ‘Adroit’

In which Ysabet Sable lays the groundwork for an uncomfortable interview.

It did not take Ysabet long to realise that she was, in theory, being taken to her death. Downstairs, it had been a lovely soiree, particularly for the kind of person who casually said words like 'soiree'. There had been pretty little cakes and revealing small talk, Ul'dah's finest, brightest and chiefly wealthiest proving they really were the jewel of Eorzea by schmoozing with the best of them. Ysabet watched keenly, listened intently. She talked little - a mercy, some would say - hovering on the fringes, laying waste to the hors d'eouvres. It took some time for someone to approach her directly. A silken-clad lalafell, introducing herself as Cecevo Cevo, and more importantly someone fascinated by how an Ivalician could have found her way so far. Ysabet hesitated at first, but Cecevo went in for the kill, asking if she'd prefer more intimate surroundings... and a better vintage of wine. One that would be wasted on the Gridanians. It was a little throwaway jab, not even one Ysabet particularly disagreed with, but she wondered how likely it truly was that the lalafell saw anything different in a more distant forest's dweller. Perhaps familiarity bred contempt, but it still stood out, and one learned to trust instinct. A certain vintage of fool grew brazenly open in the presence of thick foreign accents. So they began the climb up a sandstone stairwell, Ysabet languidly taking two or three of the lalafell-built steps at a time, the sounds of the party slowly fading away until they came to a tidy little room off to the side. She sank into a too-small seat, Cecevo took her own rather more comfortably. The wine and cakes were already set out. Cecevo poured out two glasses from the same pitcher, and sipped. So the wine was safe, but... "You won't eat?" Ysabet asked innocently. Cecevo missed a step, but only a step. "Ah, I fear I overindulged, downstairs..." Ysabet's smile did not reach her eyes. "Perhaps we should have lingered for a round of dancing to work an appetite back up." "I'd struggle to keep pace with you, I'm sure." "Well, I am an excellent dancer," said Ysabet, the picture of modesty. "There's no shame in that. I have to imagine that isn't the sole reason you've brought me here to sample your excellent wine." In an isolated room with no witnesses... or, perhaps not? Her ears pricked. The opaque curtains to the balcony rustled in the breeze, but only on the edges. Ysabet wondered who had drawn the short straw for lurking places. "Ah, blame curiosity." Cevo leaned forward, steepling her hands under her chin. "I just wondered to know how the most beautiful and accomplished of the Scions came to Eorzea, what perhaps she's accomplished, or, perhaps, her future plans might be... ? Where she might see herself rising to in the future?" Laying it on a bit thick, aren't we... "I hope to write an account of the age, from an enviable vantage point." "Ah, a scholar..." "Beyond which my peerless grasp of magic, honed over a century of study, has made my services indispensable to the Scions. It is good to find a fitting calling, don't you find?" "Peerless?" said Cecevo weakly, feeling she'd rather lost the thread of the conversation. And yet Ysabet was the 'most accomplished' of the Scions, a few seconds ago. "I've always held that humility is the refuge of the mediocre," said Ysabet primly. "Are you sure you won't eat?" "The cakes are excellent, I sampled them before, but a little sweet for my taste," said Cecevo, desperately. "Well, I'm afraid I must object. The tradition is that one gets to decide one's own last meal, do they not? I'd rather a last taste of home, given the opportunity. Sentimental, I know, but if not on the brink of the end, then when?" Cecevo stared blankly. "Uh--" Ysabet rose from her seat. "Allow me then to be direct, then. In small words. You are trying to have me killed. I am not angry - yet - but you would do well to tell me about this insultingly amateurish-- ah, my apologies, bad plot." The Monetarist looked rather hurt. "Though we're done being coy, there's no need to treat me like a fool." Ysabet’s nails sank into the wooden table. "Believe me, I'm aware of how insulting it feels." "They told me you were vulnerable to flattery." "Ah, so they are keeping tabs on me..." Ysabet chuckled. "You really thought I'd be so naive?" "... But you did come. Alone." "Mm, perhaps." Casually, Ysabet swept a projection of air towards the balcony, the curtains billowing madly as a scream trailed away. "But not, I think, unawares." Finally, Cecevo paled as the viera leaned in closer, tracing her cheek and jaw with a long nail that her panicked hindbrain recontextualised as a claw. "What is the plan here, Cevo? Why did you need me here?" The lalafell found some vestige of resistance, and leaned forward in her seat, Ysabet's talon scoring her cheek. "Yet again you overestimate yourself, Sable! We don't need you. We just needed you out of the way." "Explain," said the viera, but explanation did not prove necessary. Downstairs, the screaming had started, and that seemed a cue for the door to their chamber to burst in, a pack of Brass Blades falling over each other to get in. Ysabet rammed Cecevo's head into the table and threw her aside, pulled her sabre free from her belt and levelled it at the newcomers. One of the Brass Blades stuck to the script: "You're under arrest, Ysabet Sable!" "Oh, spare me the pretense. You had a killer lurking in the shadows and poison in the cakes. Just have the decency to tell me, was it Adeledji or Nanarito?" "The rightful ruler of Ul'dah." "Yes, I'm aware gil was involved, but who paid you?" The screams from below were only getting louder. More worryingly, there was the sound of clashing metal from above. Time was not on her side, here. "Nevermind." She sighed, and flourished her sabre. "Do as you feel you must. But know your fat purses will only avail you if you survive the night, and I guarantee you, the first to step forward will die like the gods in my wake."

It had been a good threat, she reflected an hour later, dragging herself clear of the palace with one leg trailing behind in the dirt. But perhaps it lacked the immediacy of the sergeant's answering 'get her, lads'. She'd crashed into the charge like a tempest, with the luxury of knowing wherever her sword or sorcery landed would be in an enemy, as they only got in each others' way. The blue coats turning on them, though, that was novel. They'd been so confused as Sable had burst free into the hallway, coated in blood, violet eyes manic, demanding their aid to keep the peace. It had been a good idea for their leader to put a reassuring hand up, before sliding a dirk into her gut, but the man really should have aimed for a killer blow. It had been... a bad night. There were others, too, as she'd stumbled down against the press of bodies to at least see what had happened, saw Raubahn and Ilberd duelling in the main hall. Saw broken bodies scattered. Saw more people in her way. Each soldier seemed to think they could be the straw that broke the camel's back, that they could be the one to make the difference. Ysabet allowed herself a quiet chuckle, as she pressed against a wall, tried to knit her wounds shut with her fading aether. They'd seen her as a joke, before the banquet. It had been to her advantage - it was why, after all, she was still alive - but she'd left enough survivors in her wake who could testify otherwise. So where to, now? Did any of the other Scions even still live? Somehow, she doubted the other city-states would be safe, so where did that leave? She felt snow in her future. Her ears flicked with irritation. It had been the end of a good thing. And perhaps... perhaps, when all this was over... she might even be able to find out why.

Months passed, seasons changed, political fortunes rose and fell. Cecevo Cevo had just about landed on her feet, albeit with a nasty scar around the temple. Nanarito had ensured an acceptable status quo going forward, with a rehabilitated but defanged order of Scions - well, they could hardly have been allowed to keep a private army of their own, could they? And they were mostly keeping to the Toll and Ishgard, these days... She still got these dreadful headaches, though. Mopping her brow, she cast open the door to her office, and saw a horribly familiar figure draped over Cecevo's armchair, feet crossed and resting on a desk too small for her. Ysabet Sable smiled, without mirth. "Cecevo, my dear. I was wondering if, in the spirit of cooperation in which we now find ourselves, you had time to answer a few questions... ?"

[flowercrown-bard]

Birds Still Sing When They Fall From The Sky

part 1  part 2  part 3  part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 belongs to this

Content warnings: memory loss due to old age. Yelling. Not being able to deal with other people’s memory loss. Guilt and feeling selfish for not being able to handle things. 

this is like 4k

Geralt had been prepared for a bad day. He had known one would come eventually.

For a while everything had looked up. Jaskier had blossomed with the flowers, his mind and hands occupied with something that brought joy to his now so monotonous life and a smile to his lips. It had been good.

It had been too good.

Of course, it couldn’t last; it never did. Geralt should have known. He should have prepared for – but he had hoped. Foolishly, he had pushed all thought of what could happen to Jaskier to the back of his mind. He had built a wall around that thought – that fear – with flowers and laughter and soft smiles. He had thought the wall was made out of stone; steadfast and able to keep the raging monster at bay.

He had been wrong. The wall had been made of glass, filling with cracks while Geralt was too occupied and too blind to see until one day it splintered.

Geralt had known there would come a bad day and that would be fine. After all, it was nothing he wouldn’t be able to deal with. He had done it before, had guided Jaskier through the fog in his mind, had taken walks they had taken countless times before, watching as Jaskier took it like it was the first time.

A bad day was nothing to break over. This, however ….

It hadn’t just been a day, not even a week. Almost a month went by and Geralt had to stand by helplessly, as Jaskier retreated farther and farther into that void where he couldn’t find him, where he wouldn’t be able to hear Geralt call his name.

Geralt couldn’t be helpless. The whole reason for his creation was that he would be able to better help people. And Jaskier needed him. He needed him. Even if sometimes it seemed like he didn’t even notice that Geralt was there at all. Geralt felt it in the way, Jaskier’s hand would tighten in his, before his eyes found Geralt and after a brief furrow of his brow, his confusion would smooth out into relief.

Geralt knew Jaskier needed him by the way he sometimes called out for him, when he was out of sight, in a voice that bordered on panic. I am here, Geralt wanted to say. I am here, I am not leaving you. I’ve got you. Most of the times, he never even got the chance to say these words. Jaskier’s cries broke off as soon as he caught sight of Geralt again, laughing as though he had never fallen into this blank panic that was rooted too deep in Jaskier’s frittered head for Geralt to understand.

Geralt knew that Jaskier needed him by the words that kept repeating over and over in his mind. The words Jaskier had said to him while waiting for a gathering storm to break over them.

Geralt had promised him he would try to open the windows that Jaskier had shut, whatever that was supposed to mean. The words were just starting to make sense to Geralt, their urgency making his heart clench uncomfortably. He promised. So he would try.

By the gods, he was trying. He was trying so hard, but damn it, it hurt. No matter what he did, Jaskier only ever escaped this place in his head for brief moments. He was calmer when Geralt was near, he was happier, when Geralt read to him or listened to Jaskier talk about some adventure or other, as if Geralt hadn’t been there every step along the way.

Jaskier knew he was trying. But Geralt knew that wasn’t enough.

He had thought he would be fine. He had thought he’d made his peace with Jaskier getting old.

What a fucking lie that had been. There was no peace in this, nothing about this was easy. It was painful and it gnawed at him like a griffin playing with its prey, making it seem like it had a chance of escape only to tear its claws into it once it felt the air of freedom. This shouldn’t be so hard for Geralt. It didn’t make sense. After all, he had gone through much worse; had been on the brink of death and desperation time and time again and had seen others succumb to it. So what made this so unbearable? What made this so different?

Jaskier. Back then, he had always had Jaskier by his side, reassuring him that everything would be alright and giving him the strength to push through with his softly hummed melodies and gentle touches.

He just needed Jaskier back, needed him like a drowning man needed air, but every breath he sucked in, filled his mouth with water. He reached out for Jaskier again and again, desperate for him to tell him that they would get through this, but all Jaskier had done for the past days as Geralt was looking at him for a sign, was stare out at the sea and forget Geralt was even there. Even his lute remained untouched these days.

It was like Geralt had gone off to the coast with a shell of Jaskier, leaving his mind somewhere on the way. He needed it back, just a glimpse of it. He needed his music, his eyes on him, his chatter, his touch. Anything Jaskier could give him, but lately it seemed like there was nothing left to give.

And yet, Geralt tried. Because as much as he needed Jaskier, Jaskier needed him in turn. He had promised.

As they sat in their living room after dinner, Geralt pushed the lute into Jaskier’s hands.

“Won’t you play me that song about the cockatrice?” He said, as Jaskier turned the instrument over with a thoughtful look. “I always liked that one.”

Filled to the brink with innuendos and puns, it was one of Jaskier’s most inappropriate songs and the one that never failed to bring laughter onto Geralt’s lips and mirth into Jaskier’s eyes.

“Cockatrice?” Jaskier plucked one string. It was out of tune. Confusion seeped out of this one word, but his eyes were clearer than they had been in a while. A tiny seed of hope took root in Geralt’s chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever written one about those. You were always far too stingy with the details. Maybe you should tell me about it some time?”

Geralt’s throat became tight, like a garrotte was laid around his neck; like a djinn was punishing him for being foolish enough to wish for a peaceful life with his beloved.

With a shaking voice, Geralt began to recount the hunt he had been on years ago. As the tale went on, Jaskier’s eyes filled with laughter and the hope in Geralt’s chest began to grow, almost blooming, when Jaskier’s fingers twitched on the lute, instinctually finding the placement of the chord he had chosen years ago to begin the song. His fingers lingered like that, not quite playing, but hovering, as though somewhere deep down his body still knew what it was supposed to do even though it couldn’t breach the blockade in his mind.

Jaskier didn’t play the song that evening. Instead, he sat down at the table and wrote down scraps of lyrics as though it was the first time they came to his mind, while Geralt felt the burning presence of the notebook nestled somewhere between an old bestiary and a book of poetry, that already held this song inside its pages.

He could just pull it out and show the finished song to Jaskier. Instead, he sat down close to him, soaking in every concentrated furrow of his brow and every time his tongue would flit out of his mouth, as he thought of a fitting rhyme. Geralt gave suggestions and felt his heart tear, when Jaskier’s eyes lit up as though Geralt had come up with the most wonderful thing, when really, all he did was recite something Jaskier had thought up himself.

It hurt, but at the same time, it filled Geralt with relief he hadn’t known in weeks. Jaskier was back to composing. He took notice of Geralt and spoke to him like he had done before.

The next day, Jaskier was watering the flowers, talking excitedly about how maybe he would make them into flower crowns for the next market.

Geralt smiled. Jaskier was coming back. Slowly, he rebuilt the glass wall, with flowers, with songs, with gentle touches and kind words.

He should have been prepared for it to crack again.

--

The first thing Geralt noticed when he came from his errands was the scent of flowers. Something was off about it, though he couldn’t quite put his fingers on it. There was none of the sweetness of a flower in bloom that should have been there. It was more akin to the crisp sharpness that came from a freshly cut plant or of the foul stench of a rotten one.

“Jaskier?” He called out, but received no answer.

Dread pooled in his stomach, as he rounded their cottage. His eyes went wide, his feet suddenly rooted to the ground.

There sat Jaskier, amidst their bed of flowers, clearly careful not to crush any of them, surrounded by clipped stems. Around him lay hundreds of petals as if a rainbow had decided to rain down on him.

“Jaskier,” Geralt breathed, when his heartbeat had calmed enough to give him his voice back. “What happened? The garden is destroyed, what – are you hurt?”

Jaskier didn’t answer; didn’t even turn to look at him. An icy grip clawed at Geralt’s heart and his blood ran cold.

“Jaskier?”

Still, he didn’t look up. Instead, he reached for another flower, one of the few that were still left unharmed. Geralt’s breath hitched, when Jaskier plucked it and ran his fingers lovingly over the petals before ripping them out one after the other, all while muttering to himself.

“He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me – “

Geralt could do nothing but watch, as Jaskier’s shoulders sagged when the last petal fell with a “He loves me not.”

With grim determination, Jaskier reached for the next flower. Geralt reacted faster than he could think, grabbing Jaskier’s wrist before he could get to it.

There were so few flowers left. Jaskier finally lifted his head. Geralt met the cornflower eyes of his buttercup and he felt something break within him.

This was – this had been theirs. Together they had worked on this, poured time and their hearts into this garden. It had helped Jaskier, it had made him happy.

And now it was gone.

Geralt couldn’t speak. Could do nothing, as Jaskier cocked his head, confused, maybe surprised. Nothing in him seemed to understand what he had done. What he had just lost.

“Geralt?”

“Why are you doing this?” Geralt’s voice shook and he could feel something hot rising inside him.  

“I need to find out… I just want to be loved.” He sounded so small. So insecure. So lonely.

I am right here, Geralt wanted to scream. I am here and I love you. You are so loved. But the words wouldn’t come out.

Jaskier didn’t feel loved. After all Geralt was trying to do for him, he didn’t feel loved.

Geralt should have known. He should have known that he wouldn’t be good enough. He had tried. He had done everything he could think of and still it wasn’t enough. All they had left was a torn up garden and Jaskier sitting amidst shredded flowers, desperate for them to tell him that he was loved.

It shouldn’t hurt like it did. Geralt had gone through worse. He shouldn’t feel anger bubble up inside of him. None of this was Jaskier’s fault. It was his own damn fault. For hoping. For thinking that some flowers and notebooks could make this right.

Geralt’s hand started to tremble and Jaskier’s hand slipped out of his loosened grip, breaking the next flower.

Something in Geralt snapped.

“Damn it, Jaskier!”

He didn’t know what else he was shouting. The words didn’t matter. His tone was enough to tear at Jaskier like Jaskier had torn at the flowers, at the fragile life they had. At the oh so breakable glass wall around Geralt’s fears.

It was too much. The walls crumbled to dust and everything came crashing down on Geralt. Nothing he would do could stop this. A good day, a good month. Flower arrangements and fragments of songs. What was it all, if Jaskier was going to leave him again?

Geralt needed to get out of here. He couldn’t stay here a second longer, looking at the shards that their lives had become littering the ground like flowers strewn at a wedding.

His body wasn’t his as he stood up and staggered backwards, away from Jaskier who was still staring up at him with wide eyes, so small and so hurt.

The desperate anger vanished within a heartbeat, leaving only a hollow helplessness. Moments before he fled, he watched Jaskier’s mouth move with silent words, a familiar farewell, before he dropped the flower.

The last He loves me not was still hanging in the air as Geralt’s feet carried him away.

--

The fact that Geralt had enough presence of mind to go to Kris did little to soothe the crushing guilt he felt.

But quite obviously, Jaskier wouldn’t want to see Geralt again, so soon after his outburst. He had thrown away his privilege to be the one to be able to comfort Jaskier. And even if he still had it … Geralt couldn’t bring himself to turn back quite yet. He couldn’t see Jaskier like this. Maybe his state would be even worse once he returned.

He was no help to Jaskier like this. Being close to Geralt when he was so lost would do him no good.

The only thing he could do now was give Jaskier his space, get him into the care of someone who wouldn’t fuck this up.

The conversation with Kris passed in a blur. Back during the storm that now seemed so long ago, they had said they’d help should Geralt ever need it. He had never let himself need that help. Now, there was nothing else he could do than beg for it.

One look at Geralt had been enough for Kris to turn serious and after a rushed explanation, they had left their home to make sure that Jaskier was alright, only turning back once to give Geralt a strange look, almost worrying, as though Geralt deserved such a sentiment. There was no contempt in Kris’ eyes, no anger at how he had treated Jaskier, though Geralt knew he deserved nothing less than to be scorned for what he had done.

Before Geralt could figure out what exactly that look had meant, Kris turned around and left him alone.

Geralt didn’t know how long he just stood there in front of Kris’ home, not knowing where to go, now that he didn’t have Jaskier to tell him where he would like to take a stroll.

Without thinking, Geralt’s feet carried him along a familiar path, the one that lead to the part of the shore where they had gone to before they had entered their new home together for the first time.

Geralt stared blankly at the water. There was so much emotion that had laid dormant beneath a blanket of denial and naiveté, so much that now threatened to break through, if only Geralt deserved to feel it. But how could he let himself feel like his world was collapsing around him, while Jaskier was the one who at times didn’t know where he was? How could he allow himself to spill tears, when Jaskier was the one feeling unloved and alone? Geralt wasn’t the one who had all those horrible things happen to him, all he ever did was witness them. He had no right to be so selfish and break down. He should be strong. For Jaskier. That was all he had to do, so why the fuck was he not able to?

Geralt pressed one hand against his face, dragging it down, as though it could wash away all those unwanted feelings he shouldn’t be having. All it did was remind him of the way Jaskier would always caress his cheek, hold his face tenderly in his hands like he was the world and tell him that it was alright.

But Jaskier wasn’t here and nothing was alright. There was nothing Geralt could do to make it alright. He had failed him. He couldn’t even be with Jaskier right now, making sure he didn’t get hurt.

A sudden spike of fear pierced his chest and sent poison through his veins. Anything could be happening to Jaskier right this moment, while he was away, sulking.

Damn it, how could he have been so stupid to leave Jaskier alone? There had been a reason why Geralt had given up hunting. Because Jaskier needed someone to be there for him, now that he was lost in his own head, he needed that more than ever. Sure, Kris was with him, but that changed nothing about how Geralt had abandoned him. No, not only that, he had yelled at him, flung poison words at him he didn’t even remember.

Gods, what if those words were the last thing Jaskier ever remembered of him?

The way back felt like an eternity, despite Geralt running as fast as the slippery sand under his feet would let him.

He never should have acted so selfishly. He needed to get back. He needed to make sure Jaskier was alright. Please, let Jaskier be alright!

Geralt slammed the door to their cabin open, uncaring of the noise it made, as it hit the wall. His heart was hammering against his chest and his eyes darted frantically across the room, scared of what he would find.

All air was punched out of him in relief, when his eyes landed on Jaskier, who was sitting comfortably next to Kris, showing him his latest notebook.

At the unexpected noise, Jaskier looked up, startled. Fear seized Geralt’s heart anew, when their eyes met.

“Jaskier.” The name a broken prayer on the lips of a man who had done too much wrong to deserve forgiveness.

He wasn’t prepared for Jaskier’s eyes to light up like this, like he had just seen the sun after a rainy day.

With help from Kris, Jaskier stood up and walked towards Geralt, a grin splitting his face.

“Geralt, you’re back!”

Arms embraced Geralt, holding him close like he had been gone for months. The tender touch burned him. Uncertainly, Geralt lifted his own hands to lay them to rest on the small of Jaskier’s back.

When Jaskier finally pulled back, he looked Geralt over critically, as if assessing something. His expression fell, when he reached Geralt’s face.

“You look like shit,” Jaskier said and reached out to hold his face in his hand.

Geralt couldn’t breathe. It was too close to the comfort he needed. The comfort he shouldn’t have to need. “Did something go wrong on the hunt? Some arsehole tried to swindle you out of your payment again?”

“I – what?” A thumb brushed over Geralt’s cheek and he was so tempted to just lean in and let himself get lost in the sensation. But he couldn’t. “Jaskier,” he said, carefully taking Jaskier’s hands off his face. “There was no hunt. There hasn’t been one for months.”

“Oh?” Jaskier titled his head to the side. “Where were you then? You’ll have to tell me all about it. Wait, just let me get my quill.”

“Jaskier.”

He stopped in his tracks and turned back to Geralt. He looked almost content, excited at the idea of getting another story from Geralt, when he should be asking for something else entirely.

It shattered Geralt’s heart that he would have to crush that excitement. But he had to tell Jaskier about what truly happened. Any other day, he might have made something up, told Jaskier of some hunt he had gone on years ago, but this was not something he could ignore, even if Jaskier didn’t remember. Jaskier deserved an apology. Geralt had made the mistake of not giving him one in time once before and he had sworn to himself that it would never come to that again.

Jaskier had been angry then. Rightfully hurt after what Geralt had hurled at him on that mountain. Jaskier’s fury had stung, but somehow it was worse that now Jaskier didn’t even know what Geralt was asking forgiveness for.

The words tumbled out of Geralt’s mouth with no way of stopping them. He begged, pleaded with Jaskier; told him that he wouldn’t let him down like that again, that he would keep trying, that he would rebuild their garden and that it didn’t matter how often Jaskier would tear it down again.

He knew he was rambling and that his words didn’t make sense to Jaskier -  they barely did to his own ears. And yet, Jaskier looked at him attentively, his searching eyes never leaving Geralt’s.

“I forgive you,” he said finally.

Geralt scoffed and squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look into Jaskier’s sincere expression any longer, lest he actually believed his words. “You don’t know what you’re forgiving me for.”

A hand in his hair, so gentle, so fucking comforting. “No, but I know you.”

And somehow after everything, those simple words were enough to break Geralt.

The first sob escaped him without him noticing, his mind still too preoccupied with the total conviction in Jaskier’s words that was so sweet but cutting into the pieces of his heart.

He knew Geralt. Despite all the things he didn’t know or couldn’t do anymore, he knew him.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Jaskier whispered into his hair, as his arms encircled Geralt once again. This time, Geralt wasted not a moment, before holding Jaskier tightly against him and pressing his face into the crook of Jaskier’s neck.

Whoever had said that witchers didn’t know how to cry had never been more wrong. Geralt barely registered the wet trails his tears left on Jaskier’s shirt, as Jaskier rubbed soothing circles onto his back.

“I miss you,” Geralt said, his broken voice muffled by Jaskier’s shoulder. Was is possible to grieve for someone who was still alive? “I miss you so fucking much.”

“I’m here, love.” How? How did these words that had gotten stuck in Geralt’s throat so often over the past days come so easily to Jaskier? “I’m here, like I’ve always been. I won’t leave you.”

“I won’t leave you either. I promise. I promise.” His fingers gripped Jaskier’s shirt, desperate to hold as much of him as physically possible. “I love you. You are so loved. I swear I will do anything to make sure you never feel unloved again.”

He didn’t know how long they stood like this, just holding each other, never wanting to let go.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Geralt whispered, the sobs having ceased, but his throat still raspy from crying. “You need me. You shouldn’t have to see me like this. I shouldn’t be the one breaking down.”

Jaskier’s hand crept up to settle between Geralt’s shoulder blades, but it was Kris who spoke up.

Geralt very nearly flinched. He had gotten so lost in the comforting warmth of Jaskier’s arms around him that he had almost forgotten that they were still in the room with them.

“That’s not how this works.” Geralt lifted his head to look at them, but not ready yet to give up his safety in Jaskier’s arms. Kris came closer, an open expression on their face. “Don’t ever think you’re not allowed to feel, only because someone else is being hurt as well.”

“But Jaskier –“

“Is comforting you now, isn’t he?”

As if in answer, Jaskier nuzzled his head against Geralt’s cheek.  

“I don’t-“ Geralt’s voice broke off. “He needs me.” To be strong. To be here for him. To not break down crying, angry and hopeless in front of him.

A frown creased Kris’ face. “And what do you need?”

“I need –“ I need no one. And the last thing I want is someone needing me. And yet here they were. “I need help.” The admission came out as little more than a breath. Geralt’s body went rigid, waiting for his masters to tell him that witchers didn’t get help. A witcher who couldn’t face monsters on their own was a dead witcher. But this wasn’t a monster he could fight. “I can’t do this alone.”

“You don’t have to.” A tiny smile cracked on Kris’ lips. “I meant it when I told you I would help if you asked me to.”

Geralt was asking. Not with words, but with the desperate way he clung to Jaskier. Kris seemed to understand.

So did Jaskier. Lips brushed against Geralt’s wet cheek. Geralt wasn’t alone in this. Never would be again.

[chimswae]

BTS Caretaker CH33

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 3,595

- Author Note: There is a small text exchange between Seul and Jin in this chapter, so i put the text up.

Previous | Next

Chapter 33

“Seul, what is the matter? Why with the sudden notice?” Wongeun placed the letter down on his lap, expelling a long sigh. Once again hesitation ripped off the confidence that she had earlier. She had given this into a thought, even Jin would give her a call without fail despite not being there physically by her side. Ever since her encounter with Mr Kwon, she had never seen him lingered around the shop. God knows, when he decided to make his appearance again.

Wongeun snapped his fingers to bring back her attention to him “Am I talking to wall? Is there something that I must know? You are a little off these days” Seul smiled meekly adding to his suspicion.

“It is nothing. I think mother needs me by her side. Her health is deteriorating, it is best to pay more attention on her” she lied. It was an established fact that she quit after finding out the truth about Mr Kwon.

She needed to- no, she must stay away from him as far as possible.

“Seul.. if this is about your mother, you know we can help you. You don’t have to resign” he reasoned.

“Oppa, I think it is about time to focus on something that is more important in my life. I have nothing against this place, hell I have been working for two years with you. It is not easy for me too, but I hope you understand” her cold lips emitted a heavy sigh. She looked at him sadly “Please?” Wongeun leaned back in his seat.

He was morose and kept his mouth shut making her anxious for no reason. “It is hard to let you go Seul. You are a good employee and a good friend of mine. Just so you know, the door is opened for you anytime. Hit me up, and you can get that apron of yours back” he lightens up the mood earning a small chuckle from the girl.

“Thank you oppa, I know I can trust you with this. Don’t worry I will come to visit once in awhile to check on you guys” Wongeun said quickly “And to buy a box brownies” she laughed softly.

“Yes, a box of brownies. I will never forget you, for all the things that you did for me. So, thank you again” Wongeun shook his head and eyed the girl closely. “Don’t sound like we are not meeting each other anymore. Seul just don’t-“ a voice spread across the room, pausing the conversation that they had.

“It is stated in the contract; all employee must give two months’ notice before resigning”

That voice again. Seul’s breath hitched when his eyes laid on her, scrutinizing her from head to toes.

Why is he here? She mentally groaned in dissatisfaction.

Surprised by their manager sudden appearance, Wongeun stood up almost immediately and bowed politely “ Sir, I didn’t know you will be coming today” he murmured while giving an eye signal to Seul demanding her to greet the important person in front of them.

She rose from her feet with so much reluctance didn’t want to appear suspicious, so she gave the old man a little bow without sparing any look at him.

Dressed in navy blue suit, he had round dark shades to cover that two pair of evil eyes which she hated the most. Not long after, he took off his shades, keeping it inside his pocket with an unreadable expression “ Miss Ji, your resignation letter is invalid. I will not accept it. Draft a new one as an advance notice, you may leave the job in two months” his voice was mocking her, to flaunt his power that he had on her.

Seul’s jaw tightened, letting the anger sipping in “I don’t remember having that kind of terms in the contract?” she snapped.

A mischievous smirk spread across his face “ Keep the job for two more months or pay the penalty, your call” Wongeun blinked confusedly sensing the tension in the air as though these two were playing with fire, getting ready to throw it at each other.

“I will pay the penalty fees” said Seul confidently.

“I reckon you can afford those fees. It may cost you fortune. I suggest the first option anyway” the tone of his voice was so snobbish making her fuming in anger. She pondered upon this matter again. If she insists on quitting the job and pay the penalties, where to find the money?

As much as she wanted to seek help from Jin, that sounded impossible. This would only make her to appear like a gold digger. She was not that desperate.

She couldn’t believe it with her ears that after so many years, he still had the audacity to pull such threat on her. This simply means she had to put up with him for two more months before freed herself from this evil lair. How was it possible to survive that?

“Miss Ji, I am waiting” he tapped his finger on his branded wrist watch.

“Fine, I will hand in the new notice tomorrow” Wongeun sent her an apologetic glance considering he didn’t have much say in this. He too didn’t understand why Mr Kwon seemed so interested in this business recently. All these years, he never showed up and would contact Wongeun occasionally through phone call.

Something is fishy, he thought.

“Good. Enjoy your last two months here, you never know what awaits you” those last sentences sent chill down her spin. You never know what awaits you, it rung inside her head in loop. She couldn’t simply forget it just because it came from the nastiest human being alive, Evil Kwon.

Without wasting any more seconds to breathe the same dirty air as his, Seul excused herself to tend her job. Wongeun watched her back leaving the scene with a heavy heart. There were unanswered questions inside his head that need to be answered soon.

Satisfied with his successful plan in keeping the girl under his radar, he was ready to leave. “I want her letter by hand and she must submit it to me personally. Tell her to come to my house tomorrow, I will be working from home” he ordered.

Wongeun nodded, trying to be optimist since the older man made Seul to submit her notice all way to his house without any solid reason. How odd was that?

 ------------------

Two more days till home. Just two freaking days, then he could recharge back the energy in him. He already missed his odeng and eomuk though, for the time being Seul would be keeping those two cuties with her during his absence.

Jin decided to laze around a bit considering the practice for their concert tomorrow had taken almost 13 hours of his time straight without break. He plopped himself on the comfy king-sized hotel bed and expelling a tired sigh. Massaging his aching shoulder, he released another loud grunt not liking the pain that took over his body.

His roommates, Jungkook and Namjoon were out to get food with Jimin. As soon as they reached their hotel, he went straight to his room without wasting more time outside. Jin prioritized his sleeps more than anything. He fished out his phone from his pocket and decided to text Seul again.

He bit his lower lips muffling the small chuckle from his mouth. Nowadays, the mere thought of Seul became the source of strength in him. Even though this feeling that he had for her started way back then, but he’s too afraid to admit it.

Someone needs a love counselling session.

Joyfully, his fingers moved swiftly against the screen and typed a quick hi to Seul.

Damn, why is he like this?

   Seul was reading his last message and her eyes flew open in surprised to see his name appeared on the screen. Jin’s quick reflex was no joke, he acted as if Seul was at the brink of death. Giving Seul no time to process, Jin bombarded her with questions which almost knocked her sense out from her body.

“Where are you meeting him? With who??

“Are you by any chance alone?”

“Don’t tell me your best friend refuse to follow you there!”

“Seul don’t go! It is dangerous! The last time you’re breathing in the same room as his, he almost ripped your dress apart. Goodness woman!”

“Geez Kim Seokjin. One at a time. Your words fly faster than bullets. I am alone, no, Hwasa is working. She can’t ditch her job because there’s only her and Sera working this shift. And, about the first question, I am heading to his home” Seul swore to god Jin’s high pitch yell could be heard miles away. This was the exact reason she didn’t want to tell him about her plan meeting the old man alone. Jin would react this way.

“YAH ARE YOU INSANE? DID YOU JUST OFFER YOURSELF TO THE EVIL MAN VOLUNTARILY? ABORT MISSION. RETURN. HOME. NOW!” he yelled angrily through the speaker earning a soft hiss from the latter.

“Are you mad?”

“No. I am so happy that you are now on your way meeting Mr Kwon, what a beautiful reunion!” his sarcastic remark sounded so Min Suga. When she thought about it again, they must be spending too much times together as a roommate.

Seul snorted “I know but like I have a choice. I just need to submit this and once this reach him, I will leave immediately. I will take care of myself Jin” her voice softened at the end. Her heart skipped weirdly at the attention that he showed to her, like when he sounded so protective over her it drove her wild heart to edge.

“I know you can take care of yourself, but I don’t trust him Seul. Think about this again? His threat is empty, about the penalty fees I can help-“ she blurted quickly before Jin could say more.

“I don’t want you to help me. This is an issue that I can solve by my own. I only need your morale support and I don’t need your money. Jin, I can handle him. I will contact you as soon as I am out from his house alright?” for some reason her assurance did not sound tempting to him at all. Jin didn’t feel good about this.

The end of the line fell into dead silence worrying the timid girl. Angry Jin was not pretty, and she knew it would lead to more harm than good. “Jin..” she called him out softly meting his heart.

Aish, how can I stay mad at you, woman. Jin rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Under one condition, don’t hang up on me until I make sure he won’t do something inappropriate to you” she frowned and stopped in front of the beautiful bungalow house. For a second, the size of the house took her breath away but realizing who’s the owner of this property, she cringed in disgust.

“That is impossible. International call is expensive Kim Seokjin, are you mad?”

“I can afford that, just listen to me, will you?! Stop being so stubborn!” Seul sighed and glanced at her phone screen before pressing it back near her ears.

“Look, my battery barely survives this phone call Jin. I will call you as soon as I am done, it wont take long. If I didn’t get back in 15 minutes, you can reach Hoon and tell him my whereabouts” she suggested to ensure Jin wouldn’t make fuss over this again.

Jin paused for a second before responded “15 minutes is too long! Why do you need 15 minutes when you can just leave the letter at his doorstep and leave immediately?” as expected from Jin, he wouldn’t take things lightly.

“Every step that I take is more than one second you moron. To add to those delay is my hesitation, can you just spare my life for 15 minutes and reconsider my offer. Gosh, you are impossible!” she exclaimed.

“Ji Seul, I don’t like what you are doing” he scowled.

Seul rubbed her head, with a small sigh “Do you trust me?”

“I always trust you but not now. It is not a good idea, you still have time to change your mind and take off from there. I..just that- I am not there for you Seul. I don’t want anything happen to you” low murmurs could be heard clearly and Seul found herself smiling shyly. This different side of Jin always make her looking forward to spend more time with him in the future.

“I promise, I will be back in 15 minutes without scratch, can you wait for me till then?” she bit her lower lips nervously. Did she sound like she’s flirting with him? Why was she worried over her choices of words and tone of voice? This is sickening.

Jin finally gave in and nodded “15 minutes not more. If you don’t give me a call within that time, I am calling cops”

“Hoon” she corrected.

“Hoon has no gun, cops have one”

Seul whined “You are not calling the cops! I forbid you in doing so, just call Hoon” he chuckled softly picturing Seul’s pout in his head.

“Fine, Hoon”

“I have to go, I will be back in 15 minutes max alright?” she hung up without bidding a goodbye and annoyed the hell out of him. He glanced at the clock in fear, 15 minutes from now Seul must be out safely from that home.

Or else, Jin..

 --------------------

Entering the luxurious lavish home, her eyes scanned the interior admiring it along her way. The maid brought her to another wing of the house which she assumed where his office would be. Taking a deep breath, she dragged her heavy legs entering the office and not to forget thanking the maid before the woman disappeared from her sight.

“You made it” the old man tore his gaze from the pile of document in front of him to Seul. She wished how earth could just swallow her right now rather than being in the same room as his. Seul mustered her courage and approached the wooden table slowly, “I am here to submit my letter as you requested” placing the letter on the table, she took a step back.

“I will get going now” she mentally screamed to quickly exit the suffocating room and normalize her breathing. Mr Kwon smug, taking his time to say this one thing that could stop her from walking away through that door.

She reached for the door knob and before she could open the door, Seul heard him chucked lowly “I know what you are looking for. It is your biological father, right? What if…” he stood up from his leather swivel chair, walking stealthily towards Seul.

Her brows flinched as he continued “What if, I know who your real father is?” he minimized the gap between them.

Seul’s eyes shot open realizing what this man tried to offer her, “Wh-at… nonsense is that…” her eyes threw daggers as she backed away, pressing her back against the cold door. The older man cackled in delight watching how much power he had on Seul.

“Not nonsense, but I do know where to find your real father”

“I don’t trust you”

“Really? Did your mother ever tell you about your real father?” he brought his face closer to her, teasing the girl in process. Her lower lips quivered in fear “I know… he is one my father’s best friend” she held back her tears from hitting the ground.

He nodded “True, but have you seen any photo of him?”

“Why does it matter?!” she snapped.

“You have such a loud mouth, it could be used for better thing in the future” he rubbed his thumb over her lips only to be slapped away by Seul harshly. “Don’t touch me” she gritted her teeth in anger, feeling offended by his sexual remarks.

“Alright, I won’t touch you. But that won’t change the fact that I know where to find your real father” he tilted his head studying her expression. It was a mixture of pain and anger. “Your dad is closer than you think” he whispered in her ears.

Seul shook her head frantically “I will never listen to a bastard like you, stay the hell away from me” Mr Kwon let out a sarcastic laugh.

“Stay the hell away from you? Even blood can’t tear us apart Seul” he snorted. “I will spare you for now but remember, my arms always open for you in case you need me” he twisted the door knob, opening the door for her.

With one final glance, she scurried off the room using the last ounce of strength in her body afraid that the bipolar man might change his mind in the middle and decided to lock her up or kidnap her. Once she felt the cold wind hit her skin, she was relieved to survive the battle with demon inside.

Thinking about his words earlier, could it be true that he knew who’s his father. Hence, there was a chance for her to find him. She realized it was too early to put a trust on his word especially it came from Mr Kwon.

Seul still had her mother, she is the key to every questionable thing in her life.

If she could dig it from her mother, then she didn’t need Mr Kwon’s help. He wouldn’t do it for free, there’s always be an exchange of something every time people seal a deal with him.

Her loud ringtone brought her out of her trance, and she answered without even bother to look at the caller id “Seul! Thank god you are alive. Have you met him? Did he do something? Are you okay?” his panic voice rose from one octave to another.

“Nothing happen so can you calm down? Save your voice for tomorrow’s concert. I delivered the letter and leave before he could say anything” it was not the perfect time to tell Jin about the things in relation to her father. She would tell him when she’s sure Kwon’s words were not a mere bluff.

Jin disagreed “I can’t stay calm knowing you are with him! Don’t do that again. You are scaring me woman. Are you on your way home?” she hummed a soft yes and started walking.

“Then I will give you a company until you reach home” his crazy ideas made her smile.

“Don’t be silly, I am perfectly fine. Go to sleep Jin”

“This woman.. It is 9PM and you are sending me to bed already?”

Her nose scrunched up in annoyance “You have to wake up early tomorrow nevertheless, it is not a bad idea to sleep at this time” she defended her earlier statement.

“I am walking you home, that is my final decision! Now, how’s your day?” her eyes were rolled back digesting his cliché side, though deep down inside she could say this was a romantic gesture. With Jin’s soft voice rang in her ears along her journey back home, she feared nothing in this world.

His voice was gentle and soothing enough that it drove a part of the fear away.

With his voice, it shortens the distance to her home. Not to mention, every time she laughed at Jin’s silly dad jokes, half of her burdened were being lifted from her shoulder. Entering her building, she climbed the stairs tiredly unlocking the door. Kicking her shoes at the corner, she promised to clean it up the first thing when she woke up tomorrow. Seul hurried inside her room with Jin voice nagged in the background urging her to head to bed as soon as she reached home.

“Are you in your room?”

“Yes, Mr Kim. I am in my room” she threw her exhausted body on the bed, throwing arm over her head.

“Good, now get changed and rest. Text me a good night when you are done” Jin let out a soft chuckle.

“You are so demanding. Not even my boyfriend but you are acting like one” murmuring with eyes closed, she stretched a little.

He argued “I just walked you back home so appreciate me” Seul’s soft giggle tickled his heart. He sunk on his bed, laying on the cold mattress with a foolish smile across his face.

“So full of yourself, why I am not surprised”

“Consider this as our first date” he muttered.

“What?” bewildered, Seul sat up trying to brain the meaning behind those shady words. She heard his heavy breathing at the end of the line, as he continued “About, me walking you back home, consider it a date” out of a sudden his voice turned fifty shades darker and romantic, enticing every part of her body.

What the hell Kim Seokjin? That is cringy! Jin facepalmed.

“Don’t say anything, pretend that you misheard that. Oh gosh, I must go. Don’t forget to text me a good night! Bye Seul!” he spat the words out like flying bullets without giving the girl a chance to say anything and hung up.

Jin rolled on his bed, screaming in the pillow blaming his sloppy and foolish action. He was worried if that scare the girl away. Grunting in frustration, he felt like he just screwed up his blooming relationship with Seul.

Just what is wrong with me, Jin was frustrated and feeling a little remorseful over his action.

This work belongs to  Chimswae © 2021. All Rights Reserved

[daisywood]

@rkcyclrk​

“  yeah,  alright—  i’ll  be  back  in  a  few  weeks,  fucking  hell,  ”  the  words  were  spoken  in  a  playful  tone,  but  there  was  no  denying  the  wavering  of  edie’s  voice  for  the  last  couple  of  them.  she  ran  her  fingers  through  the  ends  of  daisy’s  hair  as  she  clung  to  her,  knowing  there  was  little  way  she  could  get  out  of  the  death  grip  she  was  currently  trapped  in.  normally  she’d  put  up  more  of  a  fight,  but  couldn’t  ignore  the  unsettling  fear  that  came  with  not  being  able  to  keep  an  eye  on  her  sister  so  easily  anymore.  she’d  already  said  goodbye  to  her  mum  that  morning,  unable  to  get  back  to  sleep  after  waking  up  so  early  and  catching  her  before  she’d  left  for  work.

edie  had  barely  slept  at  all,  truthfully,  but  that  wasn’t  out  of  the  ordinary.  it  was  nearly  four  am  when  her  and  ryan  had  finally  left  emily  and  danny’s.  back  to  her  mums  where  all  of  her  stuff  was  packed  into  a  couple  of  suitcases  in  her  childhood  bedroom,  since  she’d  already  moved  out  of  her  flat  that  week.  daisy  had  insisted  on  leaving  with  them,  to  be  able  to  see  her  off  in  the  morning,  and  by  extension,  ricky—  the  four  of  them  winding  down  the  night  with  cheese  on  toast  around  the  tiny  kitchen  table.  

“  i  know,  but  still,  “  daisy  mumbled,  reluctantly  leaning  back  to  look  at  her  in  the  face.  she  looked  so  sad,  even  when  edie  tried  to  reassure  her  with  a  smile.  it  probably  wasn’t  very  convincing.  

“  take  care,  dais—  don’t  do  anything  dumb,  yeah  ??  i  promise  i’ll  be  back  before  you  even  know  it,  ”  she  laughed,  thumb  coming  up  to  wipe  away  a  tear  that  had  fallen  onto  her  cheek.  “  you’re  a  proper  sulk,  i’m  not  off  to  war,  jesus—  ”  she  teased,  her  own  eyes  stinging.  she  placed  a  kiss  on  her  cheek  and  forced  herself  to  let  go,  stepping  back  towards  the  car.  

neither  of  them  actually  said  goodbye,  it  felt  a  bit  easier  that  way,  and  they  both  understood  that.  “  don’t  burn  my  pub  down,  ricky,  ”  she  called  as  she  pulled  open  the  passenger  door  of  ryan’s  car.  she  took  one  glance  back  at  daisy  who  was  now  leaning  back  into  ricky’s  arms,  frown  evident  on  her  face.  

she  never  was  one  for  lingering,  so  she  was  quick  to  get  into  the  car  as  ryan  said  goodbye  to  them,  before  joining  her.  she  kept  her  eyes  firmly  fixed  on  the  dead  space  in  front  of  her,  cheeks  admittedly  a  little  damp.  she  hated  feeling  so  out  of  control  of  her  own  emotions,  hated  the  fact  that  they  all  felt  like  they  were  crashing  down  around  her  now,  after  looking  over  her  for  weeks.  she  was  grateful  when  she  felt  ryan’s  hand  come  out  to  give  her  own  an  encouraging  squeeze  as  he  drove  them  out  of  the  street.  

—  —

the  journey  down  should  have  felt  long,  but  edie  was  sure  it’d  flown  by.  ryan  had  been  good  at  keeping  her  distracted,  not  dwelling  on  the  reality  of  what  was  really  happening—  instead  opting  to  act  as  if  this  were  just  a  normal  trip.  edie  was  more  than  happy  to  play  along,  keeping  them  both  busy  with  trying  to  create  the  perfect  queue  of  songs  for  the  remainder  of  their  journey  and  making  their  way  through  the  bag  of  sweets  edie  had  picked  up  at  the  service  station.  

as  they  grew  closer  to  the  city  though,  edie  could  feel  the  atmosphere  changing.  

an  unsettling  wave  of  anxiety  was  twisting  knots  in  her  stomach,  so she was grateful  for  every  red  light  and  line  of  traffic  that  kept  them  in  this  odd  little  bubble  of  denial.  

but  alas,  they  had  finally  found  the  address  of  the  flat  edie  would  inhabit  for  the  next  year  or  so  during  term  time,  tucked  away  in  one  of  the  northern  quarters  narrow  streets.  “  feels  like  first  year  all  over  again,  ”  edie  comments,  sharing  a  look  with  ryan.  it  didn’t,  not  really.  it  felt  worse  than  that,  at  least  then  edie  felt  like  she  was  leaving  one  stable  environment  for  a  new  one.  now  everything  felt  like  it  was  on  the  brink  of  collapse.  

it  feels  good  to  be  out  of  the  car  now,  stretching  her  arms  out  to  regain  the  feeling  of  them  again  as  ryan  makes  a  move  on  getting  her  stuff  out.  “  hey,  ”  she  says  softly,  catching  his  hand  in  her  own  before  it  can  move  to  open  the  boot  of  the  car.  “  thank  you,  for  driving  me  down,  I  appreciate  it,  “  she  says,  bringing  their  now  intertwined  fingers  up  to  press  a  kiss  to  the  back  of  his  hand.  

It  only  takes  them  one  trip  between  them  to  haul  edie’s  stuff  up  the  flight  of  stairs—  thank  god  it  was  only  two  stories.  she  didn’t  have  her  key  yet,  so  she  hoped  to  god  there  was  one  of  her  two  flatmates  around  to  let  them  in  when  she  knocked  on  the  door.  

she  had  had  some  correspondence  with  them  already,  knew  the  basics  from  a  quick  stalk  of  them  on  instagram  the  week  prior.  the  first  was  darla,  a  political  science  student  who  seemed  even  more  fiery  than  edie  and  apparently  wasn’t  entirely  convinced  she  even  wanted  to  be  doing  a  masters.  

the  second,  and  the  first  face  she  saw  when  the  front  door  opened,  was  iggy.  an  introspective  fine  arts  student  focusing  on  museum  and  gallery  studies.  he’d  seemed  the  most  keen  to  be  moving  in,  despite  already  living  in  the  city.  he  looks  just  as  brooding  as  he  did  in  the  photos  she  saw,  except  now  he  flashes  edie  and  ryan  a  warm  grin  when  he  meets  them.  

“  edith  !!  ”  he  proclaims,  and  edie  is  quick  to  correct  him.  “  just  edie—  you’re  iggy,  right  ??  “  she  plasters  on  a  smile  as  they  both  enter  the  flat.  “  this  is  my  boyfriend,  ryan,  ”  she  introduces,  marvelled  at  the  oddly  calming  sensation  the  man  seems  to  radiate.  certainly  one  that  doesn’t  match  edie’s  demeanour.  

“  nice  to  meet  you  both—  uh,  darla’s  nipped  out  but  she’ll  be  back  at  some  point,  ”  he’s  still  smiling,  leaning  casually  against  the  kitchen  island.  “  you’ve  got  the  nicer  bedroom,  edie,  i  won’t  lie—  s’just  through  there  when  you  wanna  unpack  ”  he  nods  towards  a  door  just  off  the  hallway.  

the  flat  looks  very  much  like  something  you’d  expect  to  find  in  the  area,  red  bricks  neglecting  paint  and  lack  of  walls  creating  an  open  space  that  feels  student-y.  It’s  alright,  fairly  on-par  with  the  flat  edie  had  lived  in  back  in  lockbourne.  

“  so,  ryan,  what’s  your  story  then  ??  are  you  a  student  too,  or  ??  ”  he  asks  politely,  genuine  curiosity  on  his  face.  “  edie  said  yous  live  by  the  sea,  must  be  well  nice—  feel  like  i’m  drowning  in  fuckin’  buildings  round  here  sometimes,  ”  he  rambles  on,  a  melodic  laugh  finally  ending  his  firing  of  questions  towards  them.

[kpopchangedme]

Midnight Somewhere | Bang Chan

It’s the last day of the year at work and the lack of supervision has apparently made your coworker lose sight of your office dating ban.

Protagonists: Bang Chan & You

Word Count: 2.6k

Genre: SFW - Office Romance -  Best Friend - Humour - [Drabble 2k]

Prompt: “You’re up to something, and I want in” 

Requested by: @chessireneko​, I hope you like it!

Lys’ note: I wish you all a wonderful new decade! Happy New Year! (Don’t come @ me for being late, this is still my first fic of 2020 after all)

Stray Kids | M.list

It’s a slow day at the office but that’s pretty standard. Between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, most of the company’s employees don’t even bother coming in. If no one is working upstairs to have tech issues, phones on your floor remain silent.

Still, every year, two employees of the nerd squad need to report for duty and it’s usually the loners, foreigners or asocial. You don’t belong to any of those categories but you’re one of the chosen ones this New Year’s Eve. Your whole family went on a Holiday trip to Bora Bora, abandoning you behind. Of course, you could be in worse company. You mostly agreed to come in knowing you’d be all alone with your work friend… And long-standing crush.

In front of you, Chan is ridiculously stretched, feet resting on the desk of his absent neighbour and head thrown behind. You spend every weekday facing the other, your computer’s screens back to back. You’ve been working together for two years, his family is back in Australia so he doesn’t bother with Holidays. The young man’s chair is tilted back precariously, unbalanced. His eyes are covered with a sleeping mask, a phone headset messily thrown on his head. He’s not sleeping though, just aggressively hungover. For some reason, his empty coffee mug – his second one – doesn’t seem to be helping much.

“I hear you, Mr. Radcliff,” you assure in your own headset, opening Minesweeper on your computer, “Yes. Yes. Of course. No. No, Yang is not here today. He’ll be coming back in two days. Yes.”

Chan slides up his mask to gaze at you curiously and you make eye contact. His eyes are bloodshot, matching his bedraggled looks quite nicely. The head of Marketing you’re on the phone with – Raymond T. Radcliff – is a divorced workaholic, infamous at tech support for his lack of both humanity and computer skills. Every time he breaks something, he calls to yell at whoever picks up, eventually requesting to speak to a supervisor. Today, for better or worse, you’re flying solo. Smile, Chan mouths you, grinning, they can hear your smile. That’s Yang’s motto, but the boss isn’t here to breathe down your neck. You flip your hungover friend the bird and his dimples dig deeper. At least someone’s having fun. 

Radcliff’s rant lasts for a whole hour, by the end of it you have switched to Mahjong. From the corner of your eye, you see Chan’s starting the drip coffee maker again. Frowning, you perk up and spin on your chair to be sure you aren’t hallucinating. He must be in pretty bad shape because he’s the only human in the whole building who is not addicted to caffeine. It’s like he has a superpower, he rarely drinks it. You though the pot from this morning was exceptional, but him brewing a second one must mean he’s on the brink of death.

“Um-Um.” You hum for Radcliff, unbelievingly following Chan’s movements as he fills the water tank, puts a new paper filter on and presses brew. That’s something you don’t witness every day. “Yes. Yes. I’ll spread the wor–” There’s a loud clicking noise when the Marketing god hangs up and you’re left hanging in the middle of a sentence. “What an ass!”

Chan laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. His back is turned on you, built shoulders perfectly outlined by his too-tight dress shirt. He has been hitting the gym in 2019. It’s an older one that doesn’t fit as well anymore, you haven’t seen it in months, he probably couldn’t be bothered with laundry these days. Usually, he’s tidy and clean-cut, the only thing that never screams ‘profesh’ about him is his perpetually dishevelled dark curls.

“What an ass,” he echoes and you twitch in surprise. You had drifted away, too busy shamelessly gawking at him. Bouncing back, you run fingers through your bangs, entangling them. "You okay?” 

Meeting his perplexed gaze, you smile, “Yeah, sorry I just…” Trailing off, you desperately search for something to say but Chan saves the day. 

“You know, it has its perks, holding the fort with me while everyone’s away at home…” Claiming so, he brings a mug full of hot beverage under his nose, inhaling it before winking suspiciously. He’s hinting at something. “You just need to make the most of it.”

“Christopher Bang, you’re up to something…” Glad he doesn’t seem to have noticed you staring, you cross your arms over your chest and circle the office to join him against the counter. In the meantime, Chan sips his coffee with the smile of an angel. “And I want in…” When you’ve made it, he offers you his mug and one draft is enough to make you shrink back. Your eyes round in shock. “You’re drinking!”

He gasps, faking to take offence; “Am not! It’s coffee!” He would have a lot more impact if he didn’t look half as bad as he did at your November company’s Christmas party… And you remember all too well how that ended. The dust has just settled down between you too, things barely back to normal. Chan’s all wobbly and intense eye-contact, definitely tipsy.

“More like coffee-flavoured whiskey!”

“Uh?” Chan pouts and looks down his mug, tilting it dangerously; “Then no wonder I like it so much.”

“You’re impossible,” you laugh despite yourself, glancing at the elevator doors, “I thought you were curing your hangover.”

“Care to join on the fun?” He pulls out a whiskey bottle, poorly concealed behind the box of Froot Loops tagged ‘Han’ in capital letters. “The best hangover cure I know is to never stop.”

“We’re at work, Bang.”

“Alone, together. It’s New Year’s Eve.”

You scoff, “It’s still early.”

Unbothered, he gulps the amber liquid without breaking eye-contact. “It’s midnight somewhere.” He’s the one drinking, but somehow it’s your throat that is burning, staring when his tongue darts through his lips.

“We could get caught,” you hush, winded. Chan always has that effect on you. It might be the facing-each-other-all-day but there’s a spark, more than your simple crush. A mutual attraction you would definitely have acted on years ago if it weren’t of your no-dating office policy. Whenever you go out for drinks with the nerd squad, it always resurfaces, enough for the others to blatantly call you two out. If they only knew.

“Oh no, and lose the most fulfilling job ever? Who would Radcliff yell at?” He smiles, sipping again. “You don’t have to join me, don’t worry. I know how hard it is for you to let loose, y/l/n.”

“Hey,” you breathe out, irked, “I let loose.”

“Do you?” He tilts his head, playful, “When was the last time?” You both know when. You’re about to tell him off when his desk’s phone rings. Chan chuckles, pressing a button on his headset. “Lemon Tech Support. Christopher Bang.” Not breaking eye-contact, you quirk a brow defiantly, stealing away his mug. Chan watches intently as the white ceramic meets your lips, gulping himself when you drink the peaty liquid. “How can I assist you?” He reaches for your bangs, gently combing them back into place with his fingers and your heart races. There. There’s the thing between you again. If he wasn’t already flushed from the liquor, you bet his ears would colour cutely. 

Feeling your whole body combust at the intimate gesture, you drink the rest of the lukewarm coffee in one go. If you weren’t at work if there were no ban… You’d scratch that itch. You kissed at that Christmas party and you know you’re doomed to do it again. You just didn’t think you’d crave it so soon. Seeing you shoot the alcohol, Chan’s eyes darken, lips pressing into a thin line.  

"Dark?” Humming his approval in the mic of his headset, he moves to press you against the counter. Your surprise doesn’t seem to affect him much. “I see…” Chan gazes down at you through his eyelashes, palm climbing your hip and waist slowly. He must have lost his damn mind. “Yes,” he breathes out ludicrously serious, “I understand it is very frustrating. We should do something about it.” Is he talking about you two or to the person at the other end of the line? “Have you tried turning it on and off again, Janice?” Nevermind. Despite the situation, you can’t help but chuckle at the sheer plain mockery in his tone. 

When you try to slide away to safety, Chan expertly prevents your escape, smirking. You hate him. You hate how he knows you won’t resist. Hate that you can’t do anything, just remain stunned, wishing for more. His hand has stopped, fitting the curve of your waist perfectly. His thumb is on the side of your stomach and you can feel him through your thick shirt. Maybe it’s all those years just looking at each other because even this little is much. You feel light-headed and not from the whiskey. 

“Fantastic. You’ll just need to reenter your Intranet password after the restart.” Chan’s face is still sliced up in two. “It might take a while… Of course, I’ll hold the line.” His eyes glimmer of mischief when he pushes the mute button, it’s clear what he has in mind now. “Hey. This is nice.”

"This is not allowed,” you hush as if someone could hear, aware neither of you cares anymore, “and you are woozy.” 

Chan shakes his head, “I was when we were under the mistletoe, but you were perfectly sober.” You’re still holding on to the mug and it presses against your chest when he leans closer. “Yet, you kissed me.”

“I kissed you back.” You correct, making him scoff.

"Debatable.”

“I’m surprise you even remember.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been obsessing over that moment for two years.” You bite your lower lip to avoid smiling. You can’t believe he just said that, he shouldn’t. You’ve been there too. “It doesn’t help that you’re doe-eye lusting after me every damn day. I’m trying to get some work done here, y/n.” Sarcastic, he lets out a hollow chuckle when your mouth falls open in awe. 

“I do not.” You opt to lie and protest but then change strategy. If he’s going to be a tease, so can you. “What about all the inadvertent feet brushing under the desks?”

“Oh yeah, not accidental at all.” Chan snaps back, brazen, “I just love that you gasp every single time I touch you.”

That’s exactly what you do just then, gaze wide. “You’re crazy!” There’s no way he’s actually saying all that aloud. He’s lost it. You might be alone but you’re still in the office. 

“You kissed me,” he counterattacks. 

“I kissed you back. You can’t tell me these things. We aren’t supposed to be like that.” 

“I know you like it when I wear white shirts. I’m also aware you park your car next to mine on purpose to walk together. You stare a lot, but I do too. It makes me hot the way you toy with your hair when you’re on the phone. I’ve been bribing Yang for a year to send us on break at the same time, I take all his worst calls. Should I not say all of that either?“ 

“Chan,” you groan, ears burning up. 

“Relax, let loose. It’s cute. We’re cute.” His smile hasn’t faltered and it only widens at your bashfulness. “Oh come on, we both knew this would happen from the moment you kissed me.”

“You kissed me.” Incredulous, you can’t conceal your excitement anymore. You knew he felt it too, but you didn’t think he’d be one to suggest sneaking around. He usually likes to stick to the rules.

“If you say so,” Chan rolls his eyes, “I was going to do it again anyway.” Pausing, he studies your reaction. You’re still trapped against the counter, gazing up at him. “Tonight. I’m taking you out.” Your toes curl at the idea. 

“Maybe I have plans,” you oppose jokingly, knowing very well he isn’t going to fall for it. 

“Are you saying no?” He side glances at the empty office, amused. “I was going to kiss you at the stroke of midnight. I think that’s the right way to start the New Year.” You’re about to reply something witty when Chan reaches for his headset. “Yes, I’m still here.” Giggling, you drop your head, having forgotten all about the woman from accounting in his ears. “You need to enter the intranet password… Yours, yes. I certainly hope you don’t ever use my login, Janice.” There’s a faint laugh at the other end of the line. Winking, Chan reaches for the mug between you, discarding it on the counter. His thumb on your waist begins to rub tiny circles as his free hand climbs your neck, caressing your jawline and making you shiver. Flirtatious, he tilts your head so you are fully looking up at him. It’s not unfamiliar, remnant of that night under the mistletoe, still, butterflies soar in your stomach. “Fantastic. I’m glad I could help…” Feeling him up, your fingers slide up his shirt, tracing his collarbones through the fabric and his shoulders. You always dreamt of doing this and it’s way better than you imagined. “Yes, well… Happy New Year to you too, Janice.” Your touch gets more adventurous by the seconds. “Bye…” Chan licks his lips, irides now devoid of any playfulness. "Oh, bloody hell,” he grunts suggestively when your hands find their way to his ass. You hope the woman has hung up, “It’s midnight somewhere.” 

This time there is no doubt about who initiates it. Chan kisses you, arms wrapping around to hold you firmly into him. There’s no hint of hesitance when you respond, abandoning yourself against his chest completely. You both know what you are doing, know what you want. Your mouth toys with his, hands lost in his curls messing them up and making his headset fall to the carpet floor. You struggle to catch a breath, unable to tame the urgency of your embrace. He doesn’t seem to mind, tongue tracing your lower lip over and over again. His kisses are ardent and needy, never breaking completely. The counter is digging your ass but you don’t mind. This is both blissful and disquieting, you didn’t expect this to be so intense. All of a sudden, Chan pulls away, leaving you feverish and beggared at the dearth.

“Fuck me dead.” He groans, oblong eyes wide and breathing irregular. The swear is barely a sound at all, almost inaudible despite the quietness of the empty office. 

“E-Excuse me?”

“We’re going to have to be a lot more discreet from now on,” he states, categorical like he isn’t the one who crossed the line in the first place. “I can’t be just friends anymore.”

Heart thumping, you smile at him; “But you can’t keep a secret for shit, Chan.”

Laughing, he kisses you. “I guess I’ll have to quit.” Humming against his mouth, you don’t immediately notice the way his hands creep up, getting rid of your own headset to play with your hair. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” you sigh, rapturous. There couldn’t possibly be a better way to start anew than this. “Are you still taking me out tonight?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fantastic.”

Stray Kids | M.list

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT: If I Loved You Less I Could Talk About It More

Hey haii. Soooo.. This is kind of a follow up to the one I answered last night - I know right, it’s about goddamn time. Again, I’m so, so so so so sorry. I really am. -  which can be found [ here] if you want to backtrack and read that so this one maaaybe makes sense bc I cannot entirely vouch that it does in fact make sense without the one I just linked above.

I had such a blast writing this and I am kinda v. happy with the way it came out even if it’s just a little weird? I’m starting to dig first person.

TAGGING:

@kyleoreillysknee | @chasingeverybreakingwave | @xwicker-manx  | @rampagewriting | @wrestlingismyguiltypleasure | @writertoo18 | @dietwrestling | @cowboyshit | @cabotcoves | @heelsamizayn | @adampage | @unabashedwrestlefics | @missjenniferb | - if anyone else wants to be tagged in my wrestling fics, go here and add yourself. 

Jon Moxley isn’t a talker by any stretch of the word. He’s more of a doer. The words, without actions behind them, are hollow and meaningless to him. 

I’ve known this for a while now. It’s not hard to figure out about him at all. It’s actually kind of obvious and definitely something one can appreciate about the man, when he’s not driving them to the goddamn brink of insanity.

What I can’t figure out is why in the seven blue hells he’s suddenly being so nice to me. Up to our encounter in the elevator a few weeks back? Guy hated me.

I was nothing to him, just some poor little princess trapped in an ivory tower. Or a toy, only meant to be played with. He’s openly said as much on numerous occasions.

Lately, it seems as if everywhere I am, he’s there. Arms crossed, all brooding and angry in some back corner, tapping his foot impatiently or holding up his wrist to indicate passage of time, kind of like some grumpy bodyguard or god forbid, a chaperone... Or sitting ringside, watching whatever match I happen to be in, a smirk on his face the entire time.

Literally no one can get me to themselves because of this... Especially not Maxwell, which believe me, the pathetic prick has actually been dumb enough to try and do, on more than one occasion. You’d think me, throwing the shit he left at my place into the pool below my balcony would’ve been a really clear hint I was absolutely fucking done being his late night booty call. Nope, apparently not.

But back to Mox, though. Mox is the reason I’m torn between anger and sheer unbridled sexual frustration as of late, and here’s why...

I don’t know what bothers me more… the fact that I can’t figure out why he gives a damn, - or if he even does, who knows with that guy? -  or the fact that deep down, it secretly turns me on. I’ve never really had someone just… attach themselves to me willingly, for lack of a better term.

But then, tonight… Tonight, Maxwell managed to get me to myself, corner me up backstage.

His eyes darted around the hallway. “Look at this. You drove away your self appointed guard dog. Are you ready to admit you miss all of this, kitten?”

“Did hell freeze over in the last ten minutes, Maxwell?”

“I’m the best you’re gonna have. This bizarre thing you and Mox have going on is just you, passing time. C’mon, kitten. Think about it. Do you really think he’s capable of half the things I could give you?”

“He’s got a cock, so I mean… yeah. Pretty much the only thing you were good for was sex when the batteries to my vibrator died.”

He eyed me. For a split second I smirked because it almost seemed as if I hurt him with my words. I know better than that, but I needed my moment of victory. Then he stepped closer, a hand ghosting down my side. “You know you want me back. You need me, princess.”

“I don’t need anybody, actually.” I corrected, feigning a yawn and rolling my eyes at Maxwell.

“Right, that’s why you’re letting Mox follow you around.” the sour expression on his face as he looked at me was worth a million words. But I rolled my eyes and reminded myself that the only reason he’s even choosing this hill to die on is because I ditched him first and in Maxwell’s mind? That’s a no go.

I know his type well. I was brought up with them. Bunch of mouth breathing elitist bitch boys. I’ve realized since our thing ended that Maxwell -and pretty much any man of his type, they aren’t what I want anymore. I don’t know what I do want, true but… I have a very clearly defined idea of what I don’t want and won’t fuck with or tolerate now.

“No, I’m not letting him do anything, everybody knows Mox does exactly what Mox wants. However, I’m not stopping him, either. Maybe he has me curious. Maybe, Maxwell,” I leaned in a little, lowering my voice and laughing softly as I continued, “Maybe I’m tired of being goddamn bored to death by prissy little bitch ass pretty boys. Besides, in the end, guys like you always leave. Your type are dogs. Always looking to get your dick wet and moving on once you find a sparkly new bitch you can wrap around your finger and bend to your will... Maybe I want more. Something real. Maybe Mox could be that. Maybe, Maxwell.. Maybe I want him. That’s really what burns you up, isn’t it?” I hoped he’d get the point, or get bored, and fuck off and away.

Naturally, he didn’t. And he started to talk himself up all over again. Tried reminding me of his version of our ‘good times.’

I gave an annoyed snort and butted in. “Says the man who refused to take me anywhere. Who insisted we couldn’t be seen together. Why the hell do you think I’d even begin to want you back? Sex was all you could offer and frankly? I’ve had better.”

He swore and glared at me angrily.

“You’re a fucking bitch.”

“May be. But I’m not a dumb bitch anymore, now am I?” I said it in a mock sweet tone, laughing at him as I turned and prepared to walk away. 

“I was done with you anyway. I just wanted to give you one last chance to see reason.”

I held up my middle finger at him as I walked away, backwards. When I crashed into someone, I turned around, a glare at the ready.

Mox was smirking down at me. As his eyes roamed my body slowly, I felt something shifting in the dynamic between us. And it hit me then… That stuff I said to Maxwell?

I wasn’t just saying it.

I actually fucking meant it. With every single fibre of my being.

I gulped under his intense round of eye-fucking and i did my best to stay calm. To not be so obvious at the way my thighs clenched and god forbid, remember to breathe. He stepped closer, rough hand grasping at my hip, hauling me against him.

“Did I not tell ya to stay in the fuckin locker room? He only gets to ya because ya fuckin let him, woman. Then again,” Mox muttered in a dry tone, “You’d argue with a fuckin brick wall, I think. Stay here.”

His firm tone didn’t do anything to help out the situation I found myself in currently, dripping wet and so frustrated by what I’d just figured out that I honestly just wanted to shove him against a wall and rip off his clothes.

He eyed me, a brow raised. “The fuck is that little smirk for, huh?”

“Oh, nothing.” I shrugged, giggling. 

“Stay here.” he repeated, even more firmly this time, stepping so close to me that he towered over me and our bodies brushed against each other lightly.

Jesus, the way it felt, lightly pressed against him.

He spent a second or two grumbling and glaring, then he turned and stormed off, right through the curtains separating the back of the arena from the front.

It hit me then, MJF had just gone down. Literally just. As in he was still walking down the runway.

Curious, I made my way over to the curtains, pulling them just so that I could peek through a little and when I saw it, I barely restrained a whimper… I could hear every single word Mox said as he lunged at Maxwell from behind.

And it had me fidgeting, pacing the hallway and trying to puzzle out just what the hell was going on the entire time Mox was down in the ring, beating Maxwell’s ass all around it.

Mox stormed back through the curtains and I didn’t think, I just ran. Climbing the man like a tree, dragging my fingers over his close shaven scalp and wrapping my legs around him tight. He growled, nearly dropped me, but I felt his fingertips digging into my body and he staggered back a little, putting my back against the wall.

“This mean you’re ready for a real man, princess?” his voice a low husky growl against my lips as I smirked against his mouth and nodded my head, pressing my forehead against his. 

“It took me a while to figure you out, Mox… But now, I think I know exactly what you’re all about. So yes.. to answer your question, maybe I am ready for a real man, Mox.”

“Oh you do, huh? Gonna explain or do I gotta guess?” he smirked back.

“I like it better this way. Actions are better than words. Less talking, Mox. More kissing.” I breathed against his mouth, rubbing myself against him as he carried me towards the door leading out into the arena parking lot...