#what if they were all friends and weren't bound by fate and suffering

[creatively-cosmic]

Perhaps in another lifetime, things could have been different.

[loggiepj]

FORBIDDEN

Part 1

Part 2

It didn't fare well the following day.

Wanda treated the normies as if they weren't there. Y/n suffered far worse fate because she was the only one brave enough to approach the witch, delivering meals to which the woman rejected, offering a tour around the camp seeing the witch was bored, or taking care of the wounds around the witch's wrists she hadn't noticed before, which took almost hours before Wanda finally relented and let Y/n touch her, even when there were wincing and pulling away every time. Y/n guessed Wanda was mainly the reason why the former wasn't sent out to missions yet.

Y/n learned from Pietro that he and Wanda got separated when the Deviants attacked their small town. It was midday when it happened. Wanda was away on a trip to a neighboring place to replenish goods. When she arrived back, little did she know that hunters were already residing in their house.

Pietro was grateful to Y/n for not giving up on finding his sister once the former shared about his worries since he set foot on the camp. Y/n got lucky though, thanked the heavens for listening to her instinct. She was supposed to head back to camp that night she saved Wanda when she heard the commotion.

The new witch still ignored the entire camp and only talked to her brother, albeit short and wary, from time to time. Although, Y/n suspected it was primarily to convince Pietro to leave the camp with her.

While others could tell that Wanda exuded hatred towards Y/n and their lot, Y/n gave her the benefit of the doubt.

Y/n would have regarded her as an asshole for not even thanking her hosts, the ones who actually saved her and put a roof over her head, but Y/n understood what she had gone through. Pietro had told Y/n during his first night at the camp that he thought all normies were awful since he was a kid. Their parents were killed by Deviants. Slaughtered was the term Pietro used. And the normal citizens didn't even attempt to help them.

Pietro admitted he was wrong though. But Wanda hadn't realized that part yet.

Y/n tried to make the female witch feel welcomed, even inviting her to have her meals at the pavilion where every night, the normies would perform a serenade, and witches were welcomed to share their talents, which was surprisingly more, especially one male witch named Peter who knew how to play the bagpipes without sounding like a wildcat was being murdered.

Worried that the Deviants might hear the noise, Wanda gave a small comment about it, making Y/n smile because the witch appeared to be listening to her after all.

Y/n assured Wanda that the Avengers camp were now comprised of normal humans and witches, and they were all bound to protect the camp. That meant the entire camp was surrounded by protection charms enchanted by the witch members. The outside world wouldn't see the place nor hear any sound coming from inside the camp.

Y/n had managed to convince Wanda to come out of her tent on the third night she was there, but when the witch finally saw her other friends who didn't join the movement yet, she immediately left Y/n. At least, Y/n was comforted to know that she wasn't alone anymore. With her brother always away on missions, Wanda had no one else to talk to.

"Hi!"

Y/n jumped from her seat, her cheeks red from getting caught staring at Wanda. She didn't want anyone to find out about her silly crush on a witch who despised her entirely.

"Hey, Layla," Y/n replied with a forced smile, moving to the side so Layla could sit beside her. Layla was also a witch, and had been taking a liking on her since the time Y/n saved the former from the Deviants.

"What are you up to tonight? I think I'm going to sing a song," she said, sitting unreasonably close to the human. "It's dedicated to humans."

"Wow, that's cool," Y/n chimed in, hurriedly finishing her food. When the witch invited Y/n to sing with her, she immediately shook her head. "I... I don't sing."

"Rubbish... It can't be that bad, considering you have a pretty voice." Y/n almost choked on her food. She wasn't dumb. She knew Layla was definitely flirting with her.

In fact, Layla wasn't the only one. Ever since the newcomers found out that Y/n only preferred women, it seemed like some of the female witches were interested to try. And Y/n was too kind to just ignore them, but it didn't mean that she would give up to their advances. It wouldn't hurt to just talk.

Wanda didn't see it that way, of course. To her, Y/n was a womanizer. At first, she figured the normie was a mentor around the camp, always helpful and being looked up to by others.

Through time, the witch noticed that Y/n was only talking to females, ignoring the unexpected turmoil in her stomach. And when she found out from her friends she hadn't seen since the attack that Y/n was into girls, Wanda's distaste for the human only intensified.

Was Y/n trying to flirt with Wanda on their first meeting then? Does Y/n always say those sweet innocent compliments to every female witch she has saved?

Wanda knew Layla. She was their neighbor next town. And every party she had been to through her teenage years, Layla always got what she wanted, even her brother Pietro for a very short period of time. It would be a surprise if she hadn't had Y/n wrapped around her fingers yet.

That was why Wanda wondered when Y/n stood up and hurriedly left when Layla got distracted by her friend.

Where are you going? Wanda thought as her gaze followed Y/n sneakily heading into the woods after leaving the dishes by the kitchen.

The witch still didn't trust humans that much, even when all they ever did show to her was kindness. But she hadn't met any nice human before, making her wonder if the Avengers camp was all an act. Maybe her brother was bewitched. Is that possible? Can a witch be bewitched by humans?

So after bidding goodnight to her friends, excusing herself for still having a headache, she quickly went to follow Y/n.

Y/n hadn't gotten that far yet a million thoughts had crossed Wanda's mind, suspecting Y/n to betray and report to Deviants on the witches' whereabouts, expecting the campfire as their killing ground. Focused on being discreet, Wanda didn't even notice someone else was there when she bumped into her.

"Hello there," another human greeted her, a taller one with a bandana wrapped around her head. "What brings you to my garden?"

Wanda must had looked like a deer caught in a hunt.

"Oh, don't be scared, darling... My name's Pepper, I'm the nurse at Avengers camp... are you new here?" Pepper asked.

The witch immediately nodded and lied, her tongue slipping the words before she even realized it. "I got lost."

"It's okay, newcomers still get lost around here... Come with me, I'll accompany you back to your tent," she said. Wanda let herself be ushered, giving one last look to where Y/n went.

When Y/n had too much of the world, she'd go to her favorite hiding spot just beyond Pepper's botanical garden. At night, she'd lay on the ground and watch the beautiful painting in the sky, twinkling before her. She learned from her father at a young age that earth wasn't the motionless center of the universe, contrary to what her mentors told her at school. That the earth was a planet, one of the planets of the galaxy and they revolved around the sun, which was the nearest star to the earth.

It made Y/n wonder how many planets there were for each star she could see on the sky, thinking if there were also people living in it, and if they had no division between humans and witches like the earth did. If peace even existed somewhere else.

On that night though, Y/n just wanted to get away from Layla. The witch couldn't just take any hint that Y/n didn't want to sleep with her, knowing that last week, Y/n's bestfriend Yelena, told her that Layla slept with Yelena's ex-boyfriend on her first day at the camp. Apparently, it was Layla's objective to bed everyone in the place.

Y/n was her latest target.

What Y/n didn't expect was to be followed by someone as she hurriedly went to her hiding spot. Much less, someone like Wanda. She knew the witch still didn't trust her but she couldn't really blame the woman. Y/n had went through the same things she did.

So while she could still control it, Y/n buried the feelings she had for the witch before it became worse.

She tried though anyway.

The following morning when Y/n went into Wanda's tent to change the dressing of the latter's wounds, Y/n found the tent empty. Not putting much thought about it, she headed to the pavilion to see if the witch was having her breakfast early, but she wasn't also there.

Y/n knew she shouldn't worry, but if the possibility that Wanda had somehow ran away from the camp made her fear for the witch's safety for a second. So much that she didn't even notice the sound of waters splashing around as she walked by the nearby lake, heading to return the medical supplies to Pepper.

There the beautiful witch was, in broad daylight, swimming through the waters with wet skin and hair glistening against the sun. Y/n must had lost it for she didn't immediately realize the expanse of pale skin being shown that Wanda was fully naked until the latter faced the normie behind her, her perky supple breasts bouncing as she moved.

"Shit!" Y/n gasped, her eyes abruptly closing and the supplies falling out of her grasp.

"Are you following me?!" The witch exclaimed, her voice accusing.

"No! Of course not! My apologies! I d-didn't mean to see y-you like this...," Y/n nervously stuttered. "I didn't even know it was you."

She could hear Wanda scoff before her, the sound of the waters told the human that the witch had ascended herself from the surface. "So you spend your morning hours lurking behind bushes just to peep?"

"I wasn't peeping-"

"I know what you are," Wanda interjected, her voice seemed nearer. Y/n heard footsteps against the dirt, knowing the witch was walking towards her.

"Of course, I'm a human-"

"You're an insatiable seducer who have had countless women on their knees. I will not be part of such atrocity."

Is that what Wanda think of her?

Y/n laughed out loud after five seconds of utter silence. Without even opening her eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, you're certainly wrong about that... I've never been with anyone since birth."

Y/n heard the witch scoff again. "I find that too hard to believe..."

"Okay, it was a lie, but I haven't been with anyone, serious or not, for years now," Y/n added. "But it's nice to know you thought otherwise."

Wanda glared at the human even when she knew Y/n couldn't see her. "What are you doing here anyway?"

The human suddenly lost her composure as she tried to explain. "I was going to return these to Pepper, seeming that I couldn't find you in your tent earlier."

"Fine," Wanda said. "Get on with it."

"Get on with it? You mean tend to your wounds?"

"Yes, what else?"

Y/n's heart thudded so loud, it was deafening. She could hear scrambling before her but she didn't dare open her eyes.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Wanda exasperatedly called her attention.

Thankfully, when Y/n opened her eyes, Wanda had worn herself an undertunic. But it didn't even make it better when Wanda was still dripping wet before her, and the cloth stuck to her skin, her nipples and other curves visible through the fabric as she sat on a nearby boulder.

Y/n focused on her task as she hurriedly tended to the witch's wound, which was almost healed. It was one of the things Y/n was good at, she could almost be mistaken as Pepper's young apprentice if she wasn't keen on archery. Y/n was careful, treating the wound with delicacy as if Wanda was fragile.

She licked her lips nervously as she dabbed the ointment made by the nurse from the herbs in her garden unto Wanda's reddened skin after cleaning it with myrhh. She could tell Wanda was still wincing from the antiseptic.

"Does it still hurt?" Y/n asked in a soft voice, now wrapping Wanda's wrist with fresh new bandage, her fingers adept as she arranged the cloth around her.

It took Wanda long before she answered. It wasn't because she couldn't hear the normie before her, but because she hadn't expected the close proximity between them.

The witch intended to fool the human, not believing a single thing she had said, even the confession of her not being promiscuous, so she could prove to herself and to every witch there was in the world that humans were deceptive and liars.

But Wanda didn't expect the goosebumps Y/n left on her skin as she tended to her, even the gentleness she portrayed made the witch melt, her breathing ragged but she could always reason out that she had been swimming for hours. She didn't even notice that Y/n's lips were moving, which seemed inviting at the moment as if urging Wanda to lean in.

"It... It doesn't hurt that much," Wanda finally answered.

When Y/n had finished, she smiled then chuckled softly, proud of her work. "Done... It will heal in no time... Hey, we have the same lines on our palms."

"What?" Wanda's eyebrows furrowed, as Y/n held their hands and aligned the palms close together.

"It's a silly belief, actually," Y/n went on. "If the long straight lines ending beneath the ring fingers on the palms of two persons  meet or connect with ease, it is said that they will have a long lasting and strong union..."

Wanda kept silent as she listened attentively, her mind focused on the beautiful sound of Y/n's voice and the touch of her skin against hers, her heart beating at a pace close to fear but also far from it. The witch couldn't decipher what she was feeling. She hadn't felt like this before.

"See?" Y/n's finger gently traced the skin of Wanda's palm heading to hers, like drawing an imaginary line. "A connection... We're basically soulmates..." She chuckled softly, not noticing the flustered state of the witch.

A witch and a human together. That would be quite a scandal. That would raise Wanda's parents from their graves.

Wanda immediately pulled her hand away from the human and stood up. Y/n could tell she had overstepped so she apologized and began arranging the supplies.

"Have you eaten your breakfast yet? Bruce made deer pottage this time." When Y/n looked up, Wanda was nowhere to be found. Her shoulders immediately deflated. At least, she tried.

Y/n's spirit heightened when Yelena came back from their mission later that day, entering the camp with Pietro and more witches they had managed to save from Deviants.

Much to Wanda's displeasure when she saw Y/n and another girl hugging in front of her, as if proving how much of a flirt Y/n was.

"So, who's the girl?" Yelena immediately chided, her face sporting a teasing feature.

"What do you mean?" Y/n remained to act dumb, pretending she was interested on the new weapons her bestfriend had concocted while away.

"You're my bestfriend, Y/n... I can tell when someone has your eyes or even has occupied your mind."

Y/n didn't mean it but when her eyes instinctively drifted to where Wanda was, sitting with her group of friends and Pietro, she was surprised to find the witch already staring at her, abruptly looking down to avoid the human's eyes.

"Ohhh, I can see she's definitely your type," Yelena added, following where Y/n's gaze was at.

"Shut up, she's not-"

"I never thought you're into witches."

Y/n attempted to playfully punch Yelena on her shoulder, to which the latter avoided, ending with her wrapping her arm over the former's shoulder instead. She pulled Y/n with her as they ventured further into the camp. "C'mon, I was only playing with you... Good thing, Layla still had not made you surrender to her reins yet."

Y/n laughed. And they talked more about the mission Yelena had been to, unaware of the daggers Wanda was throwing towards their way.

[blueteller]

The tragic truth behind Cale's self-denial – and a surprising twist...?

So this is not new information, exactly, but... I haven't exactly put it together before, at least not in order. There is an actual reason why KRS-Cale grew up to be a complete tsundere in denial of his feelings. And sadly, that goes beyong the surface of being "an abused orphan".

(Spoiler alert for those who haven't finished the novel)

So, remember how KRS inherited some of White Star's curse due to his original body being stolen through reincarnation by Cale Barrow? The curse states that "you can never cherish anything ever again".

Obviously, poor KRS wouldn't know about it. He would live his life while unknowingly suffering under the curse, losing his loved ones through various random circumstances: death, abandonment, distance, abuse et cetera. However, if something like that would happen to a person – especially someone as observant as KRS – he would be bound to eventually figure out a pattern.

And the pattern was, "I lose the people I openly care about".

It resulted in not just in KRS being distant to his colleagues; it resulted in him being in denial on purpose. Think about it: as long as he can convince himself that he doesn't care, that means the curse could be fooled into leaving other people alone.

In other words, KRS grew up conditioned to believe that "as long as I am a terrible person who only cares about my own interests... then people won't leave me."

So here's the twist. As terrible and heartbreakingly sad as this whole thing is... I'm curious – do you figure that KRS's efforts actually paid off?

I think they have!

Think about it! It was stated that KRS "was a cold bastard but really good at his job". His job was saving people. His job was keeping people alive against monster attacks. You want to tell me Cale doesn't care about people? Pfff, please! The guy obviously has a huge bleeding heart for anyone in trouble. If the curse really targeted the people around KRS on a bigger scale, it would explain why the shelter KRS was staying at when he was 20 met such a terrible end. He cared, and as unfair as it is (damn that God of Death's unreasonable cursing method) that meant it affected the people in KRS's close proximity, even if they weren't close friends.

(Like, consider this: Park Jin Tae originally survived against the odds, as he "ran away last". KRS definitely DID NOT LIKE HIM, since the man beat him up and humiliated him on a regular basis. So ironically, KRS's dislike turned into a blessing.)

Even without knowing about the curse, KRS must have subconsciously realized the root cause. So he went like: "okay, if me caring is the problem... then I shall stop caring". He totally scammed his own curse!!

Now, if that was Cale Barrow – the person that the curse was originally intended for – I doubt loophole that would have worked. In the end, the only thing White Star was able to care about was himself (and he died quite often and very painfully, judging from the context) and the curse itself (which eventually came true as Cale was able to destroy it). But from what we know about the God of Death, he was trying to remove the curse from KRS, but without much success. He would certainly be all for KRS dodging the curse's effects – since we were told that the God of Death liked humans who managed to avoid their fate. He would be like: "You don't care about people, huh...? Seems legit. Pass!"

KRS's self-denial was so good it actually worked. It actively protected people around him. And KRS was subconsciously aware of that! Isn't that crazy?! He was proud of being a terrible person, a "trash", someone who only cared about himself, because that helped the people around him! AND HE KNEW THAT!!!

...But then... LSH & CJS happened. 😭

Just imagine it... for so many years, KRS's self-denial worked so flawlessly. He cared for people secretly from afar, keeping them safe and his own emotions in check. And then he was put on a team with LSH and CJS. One person who saved him, his role model, his own personal hero. The other a friendly, warm guy who never cared for boundaries. No matter how hard KRS tried to keep his distance, they wouldn't let him. And the two of them were so capable, too! So strong and good at protecting themselves. Slowly but surely, KRS's resolve began to crack. By the time he realized how much he loved them, it was too late.

At some point a shy, tiny voice said probably whispered in KRS's head...

"Maybe it would be okay to care about them...?"

...Aaand then... the curse came back for KRS with vengeance.

How does that fit with the fact that KRS was the one that was supposed to die? Simple: there are two ways you can lose those you cherish. One, they are forced to leave. Two, you are the one forced to leave. Remember how LSH's favorite saying was that "Being alive is the best"? Weeell... as we all know, Cale really took that to heart. And since he started to cherish his own life... it was first at the line of fire for the curse.

It was either him or the other two. LSH and CJS willingly chose the second option.

At this point, KRS's heart is broken to pieces. He's like, "I knew it. This is my fault, because I let myself care about them. I am NEVER making that mistake again."

He becomes a team leader, "cold but very good at his job". He doesn't let himself have another "person he loved to death, nor a friend he would give his life to save". He keeps his distance from everyone. He is lonely and very, very miserable because he's trying his best to keep others safe, while entirely convinced that he's a bad person who doesn't care about other people.

Talk about being a master at self-delusion!

...And then we arrive at the start of the novel.

KRS's first reaction to being in a new world without any close friends or family? It's pure RELIEF. He's like, "I became someone with a reputation of being trash? Perfect!" His experience taught him that as long as he keeps distance from people, things will turn out okay. Sure there is the protagonist and the plot of tBoaH to deal with, but Cale is fairly convinced that it won't be a problem. "I've always lived my life alone. Surely, it will be no different this time."

But it is different now. Because the curse is no longer there.

It's hilarious to watch Cale being constantly confused by people liking him. He's like, what the hell?? People never liked him before! He's trash, after all! He only cares about himself. It has to be the truth! ...Right?

It's a habit integrated into his brain from many years now: everything helpful he does must be due to some hidden self-interest. He's convinced himself that he's only looking for ways to use people. The few things which he admits to himself that are less self-serving (such as helping starving children), he's like "That's basic human decency, really! ANYONE would do that! Doesn't mean anything."

My last point to prove this theory: it always confused me how Cale connected the fact that White Star's curse applied to him in his previous life. No one explicitly told him or explained it to him, after all. I was like "Wait wait, HOW did you come to that conclusion so fast without any evidence to back it up??" White Star having a similar face to KRS could have been some weird coincidence. The only real proof Cale gets is the fact that in the Sloth test his past-self was targeted by Hunters due to "being marked by the God of Death". Cale came up with the curse theory much earlier than that.

This is what convinced me that I'm right. Subconsciously, Cale KNEW. He always did – he must have felt it. He had been cursed, but after his transmigration, it ended. This is the only explanation.

Conclusion? KRS became a tsundere in self-denial because he wanted to cheat the system and keep people safe from his curse. And surprisingly, he succeeded.

This man is amazing.

[clutterfield]

GHOST BUSTERS

FratBoys! BTS x Comatose! Reader

Main mlist. Previous chapter.

Synopsis

You get into a freak accident and wake up to your body surrounded by seven crying men. Or your unrequited love doesn’t seem so unrequited after all.

Chapter warnings

Angst, Cussing, Hospitals, Supernatural

Chapter Rating: T (For Teen Audiences and Up)

Chapter 2: The Girl in the Rafters

A/N. Italics for flashbacks and whispers.

At merely four years old, death came knocking at your doorstep.

You can still vaguely recall the white mesh, a sort of heavy sensation fluttering over you as soon as you closed your eyes, like a weighted blanket but instead of comforting your anxiety, pulling you in deeper through an unfamiliar ensconce of mist and river.

The healer said your soul was floating in between the wakeful consciousness of reality and the spirit world.

Anyone would have scoffed and relegated the wise old woman's mutterings to that of a lunatic, but not you.

You who were there.

You who were saved by seven men in white.

You who nearly drowned by invisible hands clawing at your shoulders, your back, your neck, all to take you to the depths of wherever.

You never wanted to relive that moment. For all it's mysticism, it rendered you bedridden, immobile and not living for a whole month at the least.

Your parents were nearly devastated.

They were frightened.

You were frightened.

So after you woke, the healer had advised you to leave that old, wretched place.

That house built upon slippery river stones and dried up bodies of soldiers long forgotten from the war.

A river of blood. Of suffering. Of ghosts.

Being religious people, your parents heeded the warning, packed what little things you had, and left.

To this day, you have never set foot in that house ever again and you don't dare to.

However, that was only the beginning of a traumatic experience in your young life.

Once your family was settled in a small one bedroom apartment (it was only much later when you were able to have a glimpse, a taste of the finer things that money could buy) in the uppermost story of your uncle's house by the dirtiest river you've ever seen, the hauntings continued for awhile.

There was a depression in your soul, something you could not pinpoint. Not even the doctors could determine what was going on with you.

Perhaps it was the river spirits out to get you once more.

Or maybe not.

And then one drunken evening, your older cousin (the son of your uncle) smashes your mother's face with his fucking fist after a brief argument, and in a furious move, you up and leave that fucking hellhole into a much quieter, much nicer suburban area just outside of town.

It may have been for the good of things, as the hauntings vanished. Your declining health stopped waning like the moon high in the sky on eerie nights, and you were happier.

Or happier as an only child with no friends could ever be.

That's when things changed.

You wouldn't know if it was for the better or worse, but perhaps a fated meeting was set in stone somewhere faraway, somewhere you didn't know where to look, that seven boys would barge into your peaceful mornings, all boisterous and loud.

You didn't get along with them at first.

They were Mr. Bang's local troublemakers.

Seven children who weren't related by blood but were bound by an invisible, unbreakable, impenetrable bond.

And that was the thing.

They didn't just let anybody who was nobody in.

Until you tripped on a rock on the side of the road in front of their stupidly grandiose gates, skinning your knees in your open sundress and righting yourself only to trip once more, this time hitting your forehead with a hard thump.

You didn't know whether to laugh at yourself or cry in disbelief when three boys around your age came rushing to help you up, two more dusting you off, while another two grabbed your hand and gently led you into the loveliest house you ever laid eyes on.

And when you could only offer a shy gap toothed smile, that cemented you in their lives and themselves in yours.

Floating in this void abyss, you wonder where they are now. Were they even missing you?

You groan as your head aches, the pain too much to bear, your thoughts becoming a jumbled haze.

Who were you thinking about again?

Without much difficulty, as if gravity didn't exist in this time and space continuum, you tumble seamlessly and land on your feet over a soft patch of what seemed to be your shadow.

Wake up, child.

Startled, your eyes flit to...somewhere because everything was black and empty.

They're waiting for you.

Who?

The question bubbles from the tip of your tongue.

No further answers are given as you are enveloped in a blinding light and thrust into the rafters of an all too familiar room, clean white walls, equally clean white ceilings, and the sounds of a heart monitor mixed with sniffles enter your ears like a harmonious cacophony of whimpers and sadness.

Suddenly, knuckles pop and you shrink in response to a vase toppling over and breaking, flowers all over the floor as water pools beneath someone's feet.

They don't bother cleaning it up, only dodging the mess.

Someone will come in to fix it later anyway.

There is a shuffle of movement and you realize with a heavy thump of your ghostly veins that you knew-- memorized the planes of that broad back, or the pale skin on that man, or those dimpled lips, or that forlorn glance hidden beneath curled waves.

Footsteps crash through the somber atmosphere and with a start, you recognize the three men practically panting to catch their breaths before one of them collapses onto his knees, snarling as his fearful gaze darts to the person on the bed.

Oh, that was you.

That was you wrapped in a lump of antiseptic, bandages and a white blanket.

And they were...

The broad shouldered man turns, eyes lidded and coarse and with soft touches leads the broken man on the floor next to you, the other two following almost robotically.

"Hyung what--" The tearful one croaks, and your heart squeezes for him for some reason. He looked like a hurt rabbit.

The palest man frowns, eyes never straying from your prone form, as if analyzing beats on a MIDI but couldn't quite get the desired placement. "She's just sleeping."

A hand pats his shoulder, a head shakes, before the tallest of them bleats, voice a deep dulcet tone and you close your eyes for a moment, savoring his soothing bass with a hum. "She..." A swallow. "YN's...she's not going to wake up anytime soon."

You echo their frowns.

Wake up? Why would you wake up? You were dead...right?

Eyes stray to the fallen daffodils on the cold tiles of the hospital room, each pair glistening over with what you could only determine as grief.

Why were they crying over you?

Why does your heart hurt seeing them like this?

You try to float over to them, to console their aching souls, and when you reach the first one, you skim your finger tips over his cat like features, as if to say "don't be sad".

"I'm here. Always." You whisper tentatively wondering if they can hear you at this point.

There isn't much of a reaction so you sigh.

Not thinking too much of it, you peck this one's cheek, pouring everything you have into that single touch.

"YN?!"

You jolt out of the man's way when he tries to reach for you, pupils wild in abject shock and anguish.

He can see you?

The others around him hold him in fear of what he might do to himself, thinking that he had gone beyond the bend with his torment.

"Yoongi-hyung!"

"Yoongi!"

You take a step back, memories flooding your subconscious or what's left of it anyway. "Y-Yoongi?" You whisper, tearing up. "What am I-- How can you---" You shake your head, just as the older man grabs your wrist and you involuntarily clench your eyes with a small whimper.

Yoongi doesn't let go, doesn't mind the others very concerned warnings, and pulls you to his chest as if you were a living bag of flesh and bones. "Baby, please come back."

You sniffle into his toned chest as he cries, struggling against several arms holding him back form something they couldn't fucking see. "I'm here. But I don't know how, Yoongi." You stare up at him. "I want to come home to you all. "

Yoongi sobs, kissing your forehead, your hair, your nose, "It's okay, princess. We'll figure this out. Just please, stay with me, okay?"

"Hyung..." Someone jostles him but Yoongi in his slightly distraught state lowly growls and the footsteps back away an inch.

"She's here. You can't see her, but she's here. In my arms right now. "

Hesitant, as if any sudden movements left would startle the older man like one would a feral cat, the tallest one(Namjoon, you think), slowly licks his dry lips (dehydrated from all the crying he did earlier), and croaks. "Okay, hyung. Okay, we will believe you. " He directs his stare to the space between his hyung's arms (because if it weren't a drastic situation, the pose would have been one for a comedic meme).

The rest shuffle warily, staring right at you but also unseeing and you scrunch your red nose.

Yoongi can't help but kiss it again and you bury your face in his armpit, earning a sultry laugh from the man.

God you missed him. His laugh. His smell. Everything.

Although bits and pieces were still coming to you, you know that these seven men were your entire fucking universe.

You've missed all of them.

How long has it been anyway?

You open your lips to ask the question when the sliding doors slam open, and an imposing figure clad in six inch boots and dark red lips looms over you. "Hello, gentlemen."

Next chapter

[cherri-cherri]

× Little Flower ×

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Pairings - Ryoumen Sukuna x Reader

Synopsis - No one was allowed to touch you as you were his. Those who dared would suffer a fate worse than death...

Warnings - Possible Grammar Errors, Slight Gore, Swear Words

A/N - This fic here is pretty short but I wanted to write this after having a weird dream with flowers and Sukuna. I honestly have mixed feelings about this one but I hope you all enjoy! - 🍒

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"Speak, girl. Do you know why you stand here on trial here today?" A voice called out to you from above but you simply kept your head hanging down to stare at the stacks of dry wood pressed under your feet. Your body ached due to the countless bruises and cuts littering your skin and the tightness of the ropes cutting into your bound wrists weren't helping at all in the slightest.

"Y/N L/N, do you understand why you stand before us?" The voice repeated again, this time a rough hand grabbing ahold of your hair and gripping it tightly, forcing you to stare up at the man before you.

"Cat has your tongue? Well then, let me remind you that you were caught giving aid to the king of curses. No doubt spreading your legs for him like that harlot you are" his words only mirrored the disgusted look in his cold grey eyes, glaring down at you as his grip on your hair only tightened. Sad to think that you would be used to this knowing your uncle was not a kind or gentle man and yet his words only stung.

"...I did no such thing....He was hurt and I was trying to help, I was–" Letting out a yelp as your cheek burned from the slap your uncle gave you, you felt tears prickling your eyes as he leaned in closer.

"Liar!! Someone saw you with him, saw you hold him! It is obvious that your vile ways allowed him to take over your mind and possess you!" Yelling at the top of his lungs, you heard others around you cheering the man on as some even chimed in. So many hateful words, so many people who you believed to friends and family only for all of them to look at you with such disdain and anger. Tears began to form until your uncle released you and stepped away, "There is only one way to save your soul now before he swallows it whole. The flames will send you to the afterlife and maybe then, you will be saved."

Your heart dropped after hearing that. You were going to die, all because of giving a monster sanctuary, all because you tried to be kind. Men carrying large clay pots came to the stake you were bound to and then began splashing you with oil. Coughing as the liquid was poured ontop of your head, you heard the chanting of the people all around you, screaming and yelling for your death over and over again as your uncle came walking back towards you while holding up a lit torch.

This was the end. Your miserable life ending at such a horrible note, it made you let out a small saddened chuckle as you slowly closed your eyes and waited for the fire to engulf your completely until nothing but ash reminded.

You waited..

And waited..

The ropes wrapped around your wrists were soon sliced off and at the same time, you hear a few thuds collapsing onto gravel not too far away from you. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself staring at your uncle. Your now headless uncle. The blood erupting from his neck like a geyser as the body slumped down to its knees, occasionally twitching as the blood sprayed across your face and ragged dress. The color drained from your face completely as you stared down at the blood on your clothes, horrified until a large tattooed around wrapped itself around your waist. Freezing completely, you looked back forward to see the villagers beginning to flee until those who even took a step back were diced into cubed pieces.

"Any human who moves another muscle will die." A rough voice called out behind you, sending your heart to panic. Turning your head slightly to the side, you saw him.

Ryoumen Sukuna.

His eyes darted down towards you, crimson hues staring into your watery E/C eyes and he simply gave you a toothy grin. "Come on now, Y/N, you shouldn't give such a frightened look to your knight in shining armor. I just saved your life."

"Y-you killed them.. " you muttered, causing Sukuna to roll his eyes as he lifted you in the air before placing you down onto his shoulder to carry you. "And? I don't see what's wrong here. You're alive, they're dead. Now that we've been over that, I think you owe me a reward—"

"I knew it..." a woman said from the crowd, her knuckles turning white from how hard she was gripping her fists. She stared at the two of you with fear in her eyes, more so you than Sukuna. "Y-you were sleeping with him..you dirty whore...letting a monster in this village. Letting a curse spread in this village!" As she screamed out, blood soon enough trickled down her lips as she felt a pain in her chest before a growing numbness. Looking down, the woman saw nothing but a gaping hole in the middle of her chest, blood dribbling down the emptiness to the stomach until she slowly collapsed on her back. Others around her screamed out, some moving from the places they were standing before being sliced in half or trisected into parts. You gasped out, covering your mouth as you felt bile rising up.

"S-she did nothing wrong!" You yelled to Sukuna as he only stared at the remaining people in the crowd with a smirk. "Wrong...As far as I see, everyone here has committed a great sin."

Crimson stained the once grey pathway as people are killed by the curse one after another. A few brave (or foolish) souls attempted to even rush at Sukuna only to make it as far as five steps forward before their insides became their outsides. A woman tried to beg for her life by offering herself as Sukuna's personal slave, even going as far as to give away to lives of her children but once again it proved nothing as she too was killed.

It didn't take long for Sukuna to kill off the rest of the villagers, regardless of their age or even if they were innocent or not. They were all killed and slaughtered brutally without mercy, their blood mixing together as the smell of their corpses began to reek. You stared down at the headless corpse of your uncle, eyes dulled as you thought perhaps it would've been better if the fire had claimed you. Then no one wouldve been killed. No, no that wasn't true.

It would've been better if you never met him. If you simply continued on your way and left him bleeding out for the shamans to find. If you had never opened your heart to the curse..then no one would've died. Then no one would've been killed. Feeling a hand brush your hair gently with his nails and combing a strain behind your ear, you were snapped out of your thoughts. Sukuna pulled you closer towards him with one arm and wrapped each of his arms around your small frame before pressing his lips onto your forehead.

"They didn't have to die..." your voice was practically a whisper at this point, hoarse and dry from the screaming and begging for him to stop. Sukuna merely chuckled as he released you, "Do you feel guilty?"

"What sort of question is that supposed to be? Of course I do...." Saying that you didn't would only be half of the truth. Sure you were angry with how they were so quick to hurt you and kill you but then again, if you knew this was what Sukuna was capable, you would've accepted the punishment. You should've listened, should've stayed away from him that night yet apart of you knew that this perhaps wouldn't have changed much.

"I don't see why when because of you, your people get to live on..."

Those words got your attention as they left you confused. Before you could even question him however, you heard a small weak voice speaking out towards it. "You've doomed us all, girl..."

You could've swore that it was your uncle speaking to you and yet you knew that was impossible seeing as his vocal cords were severed alongside his head. But when your eyes slowly looked over to the severed head, you saw a large flower growing where the blood pooled over. It might have been beautiful if it wasnt for the fact that your uncle's face was on the flower, darkened eyes staring at you. Gasping out, you covered you mouth and took a step back, pressing your back into the warm chest of Sukuna as he pointed over towards the other bodies littered around the execution ground.

A variety of flowers had sprouted forth from the blood soaked ground, each with the faces of the dead villagers as they yelled and screamed out in agony at you. So many cried out your name, children who were unfortunately brought here wailed as their mothers simply screamed out multiple swears at you. Speechless, you froze at the sight as more flowers simply began to grow up around the two of you and were only spreading. Small vines began to creep towards you, only to be sliced away when it got too far, not to you but to Sukuna.

"Regret, anger, hatred, sadness. So much negative energy, so much rage here. I wanted to repay my little flower and what else to gift her with than a garden of her own." He hunching over and reaching for one the screaming flowers, he plucked it forth from the ground as the face on it contorted in pain before it began to beg for mercy. "Flowers for my flower. Though none of this compare to you." Sukuna chuckled, placing the plant onto the back of your ear before combing a strand of your hair.

You felt disgusted as the flower's voice grew more and more faint, it practically whispering in your ear for himself to be spared such a fate. You could do nothing but silently say how sorry you were yet your hushed apologies were drowned out by the voices of your new cursed garden.

[ahhhhhhdonna]

Summary: I really just wanted to write Jaskier getting locked up in a pillory!  Like this one:

And then this Yen and Jaskier fic just happened.(Warning for swearing, if that’s not your jam.)  Is there more to this? I don’t know.  For now, though, this:

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

High heeled shoes walked into his line of vision; beautiful, impeccable, without a single speck of road mud on them.  The hemline of a black dress in some expensive fabric.  Silk, maybe.  Or satin? Organza... If that was a fabric.  Didn't really matter, he thought miserably. What mattered was the insidious owner of said shoes and fancy dress was standing close enough he could feel the chill of her shadow and smell her perfume.

Somewhere above him, she laughed. Not a demure lady-like chuckle either, oh no, a real belly laugh.  Downright rude, if you asked him. He straightened up, as much as he could straighten while being locked rather piteously in a pillory.  

“You know, I was beginning to think this day couldn't get any better,” Jaskier said, amicably, “and yet...ahh, here you are.”

“Oh, Jaskier,” she said, with that tell-tale edge of sarcastic delight. It felt on his ear like a finger-nail catching in a pill on a silk coat.  “How did you get yourself into this little predicament?  Did you get caught fucking the alderman's wife this time?  Or, oh dear... did she catch you with the alderman? I know you aren't terribly...discerning when it comes to your pitiful little conquests.”

Jaskier's mouth opened with a huff before he snapped it closed, unsure which bit was more offensive.  

“I...I'm- I am discerning,” he managed, “and for your information, Yennefer, none of my...my conquests- as you so charmingly put it- would consider the encounter pitiful in the slightest....not that you will ever know...you...you could be the last woman alive, and I promise I would rather put my-”

“If your usual debauchery didn't land you here,” Yennefer cut him off, the smile still in her voice, “then what else would warrant such a public shaming? Was it your big mouth?”

He sniffed and went silent, fuming. He heard her long lacquered nails ticking on the wooden slat above his head.  One lovely shoe tapped impatiently.

“Well,” she said, after it was clear Jaskier wasn't going to be forthcoming, “whatever it was you did, I'm sure the punishment is well deserved... However, I do find it hard to believe Geralt would have allowed them to put you in the stocks.  He has a soft spot for your antics, no matter how stupid.  So, where is our witcher?”

Oh, wouldn't you like to know, Jaskier immediately thought but didn't say. Regardless of what Yennefer thought, he wasn't that stupid.

“Our witcher is not here,” Jaskier ground out, instead.  “He's on a hunt.  He picked up a contract here.  Actually, he's...well, he's... he’s missing.”

The tapping of nails stilled.  

“Oh, it's not like you're going to help,” Jaskier spat, “so why even bother?  Why don't you just portal off somewhere else and leave me alone?”

“Jaskier.” Her voice was quieter but impossibly more dangerous. “Geralt is missing?”

“He's...more late, really,” Jaskier said.  “He was due back three days ago.  I tried to tell the good alderman that monster hunting is not an exact art,  but...it was quite a well-paying contract, and Geralt was given half up front...and the alderman thinks Geralt has just taken off with the gold.  So--”

He waggled his hands in the holes beside his head.

“--they decided that since they can't punish Geralt for the alleged thievery, why not punish his faithful companion instead?  They locked me up this morning and I'm to be kept to the pillory until Geralt eventually returns or... or they tire of all of this, or I die, I guess.  I don't know.  On orders of the alderman.”

He swallowed.

“I'm rather...worried about Geralt, actually.  He's fine, I'm sure, he's always fine but it's not like him to-”

“-He'll return,” Yennefer said, decisively.  “In the mean time, I could free you but far be it from me to interfere with local politics...  I think it would be rather more interesting to see this sort itself out, don't you?”

“I knew it,” Jaskier muttered.  “I knew it!  Why did I even bother?..”

“I’d best be going,” she said, and he could hear her infuriating smile again, “Lovely chat, dear. But It does looks like it might rain.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Yennefer listened to the rain pounding on the inn roof that night as she sat by the fire and drank mulled wine.  She tried to think of Jaskier and glean some satisfaction for his suffering but now, as the wind howled a bit in the rafters and the night's chill crept in, she frowned into the depths of her cup.

He was only human, after all.  A weak, stupid, annoying human, to be sure, who prattled on and on and wrote nasty songs about her and pretended they weren't about her when they clearly were. But...Three days late, he'd said. And Jaskier-for all his glaring and numerous faults- did harbor a deep and unyielding love for their witcher.  Her witcher, she thought, unbidden, and drank.

It had been a surprise when she had come into this blighted town and saw the familiar bard clamped into the stocks in the town square.  Another strange coincidence. Since their fateful and brief meeting in Rinde, she had run into Geralt on two separate occasions and now this... She had only come here to provide a service, a round of cures and magical remedies, to fill her purse for another dose of that probably useless fertility treatment with the cost of it ever increasing.  It was better to keep moving to different towns, she found, some were more friendly to magic than others. 

A town that treated friends of witchers so poorly might not have a high appreciation of mages either.  Best to move on, she decided.  In the morning then.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The next morning, Yennefer cursed herself as her legs led her back to the town square, her velvet cloak enchanted to keep her dry as the rain continued pouring down and the mud pooled around her boots.

Jaskier was soaked to the bone and looking twice as pitiful as ever, bent as he was and trembling with cold.  When she approached, he contorted his neck to do his best to look at her, squinting and sniffling.  He looked as pale and red-eyed as a wet white rabbit.  

“Yennefer...I, uh, to... to what do I owe this... odious pleasure?”

Ah, he had been crying then.  It wasn't just the rain.  She bit back the worst of her responses- a decided act of charity, if there ever was one- and went straight to the point.

“What was he hunting then, bard?”

Jaskier blinked at her with swollen eyes. He certainly seemed no longer up to their usual verbal sparring and she was glad to not waste time.

“The alderman didn't know what it was, just that it smelled terrible and was killing villagers who wandered too far into the woods.  Geralt thought it was a rotfiend.  Should just take a day, he said, maybe two if it was hiding...”

“And it's been five,” Yennefer mused. Yes, Geralt should have been able to handle a single rotfiend in a leisurely afternoon.  And while the man could certainly be accused of moving on without saying good-bye, he would have at least returned for the payment.  Priorities, she thought, wryly.

“Nearly six,” Jaskier said and then his teeth chattered loudly enough that Yennefer could hear it over the din of the rain, like a tin cup full of dice. He once again tried to look at her, lifting his head an uncomfortable angle.  

“...Are you going to go looking for him?  Please.  Please, please tell me you're going to go looking for him. Please. If he's hurt, only you can...If anyone can find him, it's you, Yen, it’s you....”

“I'll look for him,” Yennefer said and watched the bard sag against the restraints with relief.  

“Thank you,” he murmured, in a voice soft enough that she was sure she wasn't meant to hear it.  She was sure he expected her to leave him there and, oh gods, did she want to.  Especially after his last ballad about the 'violet eyed siren of Vengerberg, with generous bust, who eats men's hearts for sport and lust'--  Ugh!  He deserved to stay here in the stocks, all ruined silk and wet lace and aching back! It might humble him and he certainly needed some humbling for all his lyric writing to the contrary.

But... Geralt would not forgive her easily if she left his companion to starve or freeze in the stocks and, fuck, if the thought of his disapproval didn't strike an irritating chord inside her. And if she was somewhat swayed by the bard's sudden spell of repentant gratitude, well...he'd never have to know it.  Bound and begging was surprisingly a good look for him, she thought.  And she was feeling absurdly generous this morning, so...

Yennefer made a little gesture and the thick padlock on the pillory unlocked itself and fell to the ground with a thud.  Jaskier startled and gaped at the fallen lock.

“You...you just...?”

“Come on, then, and don't make me regret it, Jaskier,” she said, in a tone she hoped implied that she already did.  “Lead the way.”