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kalegrinch · 3 months

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⭐️Sunshine⭐️

Rocky Rickaby x Gn Reader

2k~ words

I’m not normally one to publish fanfiction, but I figured I’d share some to feed my growing infatuation for Rocky. If you like this, don’t be afraid of leaving a request of any sort. Reblogs and likes are very much appreciated. This fic is really reader’s-internal-emotional-constipation heavy (with a side of Rocky), so read at your own risk.

SUMMARY: You meet Rocky in a cold alleyway on a rainy day. What could he possibly want at this time of night?

WARNINGS: None, except for the incessant use of the pronoun he and parentheses-notes (I promise I did those two things for important reasons)

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Maybe it was the way in which the cold rain fell from the dark and misty night sky, drenching you completely and you wadded around. Maybe it was how it cascaded down your face like a river, like water running downstream. Maybe it was the way the lullaby yellow color from the odd street lanterns reflected on the gray cobblestone of the streets of St. Louis, casting dark shadows in every direction imaginable. Maybe it was the cold wind whipping past you and flicking your tail back and forth, only stopping to seep solemnly into the fur of your body, hidden away in a jacket you stole from a generic store long ago. Or, most likely, it could've been him. The sole being that could wake you on a night like this. Him, standing peacefully with his back turned to you, always moving and fidgeting and humming along to any new tune he creates spontaneously with the flick of his whiskers and the tap of his shoe. Him, perfectly unaware of your presence.

He’s waiting for me. Even the thought of something so preposterous chilled you to the marrow, but you didn't understand why. When Mitzi told you he wanted to meet you here earlier in the speakeasy, you had plenty of time (A little less than 42 hours) to prepare (Mentally) for him. When and why had it all- everything from his random ramblings to the toothy grin to the syrup-coated language- suddenly become too much? When had it suddenly made you feel differently? Now you look forward to seeing him every day and participating in those stupid antics with him. It’s getting to the point where he’s one of the only things that pushes you forward to face every waking hour you have to endure on this planet. When did it get to that? And why?

You didn't dare let yourself think about (let alone believe in) anything more than platonic feelings. There should be nothing more than platonic feelings between the two of you. Nothing.

But why did that feel so wrong?

St. Louis isn't known for its hills, but this one that led up to this particular spot meant a lot to you. This particular spot, where the sun would always come up in the morning and where no one was curious enough to venture. Almost hanging on the horizon, it always spreads its glorious, haunting light across the acres of water that was the Mississippi River. You would often come to this cliff with him, always sitting on the very edge of the thick, stone railing that tried its best to prevent accidents with the shallow water far below, waffling with him till your throats were sore. And then some more, for good measure. It had become a tradition, to spend early mornings here with him. And you made sure it happened enough, enough to nourish this newfound infatuation for him that you regret admitting even to yourself. Everything on the other end, across that ambiguous, murky sea, was blurry and insignificant, mere blobs of floating rock and bridges you could never cross. Sometimes, when you stared hard enough at the sight, you felt rather insignificant yourself. The thoughts would come running, coating you in the solution of your own despair and agony. Leaving you alone in the dark and endless tunnels of panic and fear, the one of your own creation. But then you'd turn around to your companion by your side, the one bathed in the sun’s orange light that never stopped the goofy yackety-yak and heartfelt, serious conversations with you, and for a couple of minutes the weight would be lifted and the world wouldn't feel as colossal, as cruel as it always did. The world was starting to feel more worth approaching with every day that passed, as long as you could approach it with him. Now, your quiet footsteps echoed out in the dim and suffocating alleyway, a backdrop for his bard as you approached the incoming balcony that, after a long drop, gave way for the river. When you were close enough, you could see his relaxed shoulders, the rain dripping from his hat, and the way he leaned on the nearby brick wall for support right at the opening of the cleft where the two compact buildings ended. Although he was turned around, you could clearly picture his eased expression and considering eyes, scanning the river that was constantly being struck by the rain, mishaping the reflection of the bright, full moon from far above. He was always more subdued here, more calm, as if he felt sufficiently safe enough around you to let his guard down for you (It took plenty of coaxing for him to reach that state, of course) His voice rang into the night sky, only weighed down by the abundance of droplets that made you regret the fact that you did you hair this morning (for him):

A lover of choices more inconspicuous than ambivalent

She walks along penetrated pathways, all apathetic and innocent

The feeling’s initial, official, more vivid and free

Better than the perspicacious preacher of the land and sea

You’d never heard it before. It must have been new.

“Hey there sunshine,” Your surprisingly hesitant voice broke through the silence, “What’s that one about?”

He immediately turned around to face you, just as he always did in response to any of the teasing nickname you decided to use at all given moments. Sunshine had become one of your favorites, as it always earned you a warm smile and tail swish. Now there was a surprised grin plastered across his face, and you had to take your time to observe his pretty features.

Pretty? Where did that come from?

The icy blue eyes that always impeded any train of thought and seized your breath. The expressive eyebrows, imperfect blue suit...the blatant bullet hole in his sharp ears you've always wanted touch. All at once, you had an infatuating urge to run forward and encompass him in a hug as an apology.

Snap out of it, idiot

You had created a seven-inch glass wall between the two of you for your sake. To maintain sanity. And maybe dignity, too. But there was a look of need present on his face, like his want for its demolishment exceeded your comprehension.

“Ah, M’lady! What a pleasure, encountering you today! I was thinking-”

“Cut the dramatics, sweetheart. It's pouring out here. Unless you're planning to take me back to your place, I suggest you get on with it.”

The evident flirting was normal now (You assumed) but it still managed to catch the both of you off guard. It didn’t feel appropriate, this late at night, only reciprocated with the song of rain. Unpunctual nights alone in your drab apartment made you wonder if it meant anything. To him. And maybe to you, too. Nevertheless, it was expected of you. It was a part of your “personality.” It was your thing, your thing around him now.

Still, he smiled, “I wanted to… um…discuss the incident from mere days ago...”

You promptly recalled what he was talking about. A couple of days ago, you had a small argument in the speakeasy, resulting in you storming away from the situation before it escalated. Something about your safety. Ever since your first encounter (The one you’d like to forget but he always teased you about) the two of you followed each other everywhere. You practically had your own language, for whenever the two of you were at it with an easy-going squabble, heads would turn and concerned looks were spread.

I’m pretty confident the nature of pickles do not require an extended thesis, sunshine

But they do, love, they do! Think about it: The earth is a pickled fruit of the universe, just as pickles are the pickled fruit of the earth!

…Pickles are fruits?

Following him constantly resulted in figuring out about the whole rum-running gig sooner than expected, and after a plethora of begging, he let you come with him on those dangerous, late-night expeditions. It had become a trend, and you had more or less ditched journaling and had become an asset for the Lackadaisy. It wasn’t very profitable, but spending time with him was worth everything you had to give. And after a particularly wild quest, he asked you to stop aiding him in those misadventures so you wouldn’t get hurt, and the spat ensued. And you ran away. And you haven't seen him in three days, whether it's out of pure embarrassment or fear. Ah, great. Now you were spiraling into if he cares enough about me to fight me for my safety… then that means something, right? You couldn’t stroll into this dangerous territory of believing blindly. Not again.

“Well,” You took a breath and faced him again, mustering a look of defiance, “I don't want to”

“I'm not going to pester you with that topic, love,” He chose his words carefully, speaking slowly like you’ve never heard before, all while maintaining eye contact, “Not today. I just wanted to see you again. I’ve missed you, to be frank” He made a weird face, a mix between apologies you did not require and come to me, please.

The honest commission left you with your mouth agape and took all of the previous guilt and regret away, leaving you with a horrible feeling of loneliness. Sure, you’d expected it for you yourself felt empty without him recently, too. But verbal confessions were different than made-up acknowledgement. It was as if you had just now processed the days you spent without him, and while a meager three days to the average person, enough to make you start towards him with your arms spread wide, actions tainted with regret. The invisible seven-inch glass wall vanished beneath the desire of him.

You hadn't spared a glance at the look on his face before you collided with him, arms enveloping and causing him to take a few steps backward, trying to regain his composure. It wasn't long before he reciprocated the hug and the two of you were locked in a warm, supposedly never-ending embrace.

The side of your face hung close to the fluff of his chest, and for a few quiet moments, you heard his shallow breathing and heart beating. When you felt his resting head on yours, you brought your tail towards his fluffy one hesitantly, merely tapping the tip of his tail in question. The question was answered as if there was not time to spare and they entwined, a reassuring feeling you’ve never really felt before. A feeling of thank you. Thank you for staying. It was the type of happiness, fondness and fulfillment that captured who whole being and seized your heart, stoping it in this moment of time. This moment of time, with his arms wrapped around your back, his body shielding you from the cold, cold rain. This moment of time, where the forbidden three words were stuck at the edge of your tongue.

Those words were forbidden for a reason, so instead you tried to express yourself in, “God, I’ve missed you too”

It was a soft murmur, accompanied by you pulling your head away from his chest and resting it against his forehead without a glance at his expression for fear of what you would find. You made it fast, you made the motions quick. The big feelings were swallowing you whole and it made you act out of reason. For a couple of seconds, the two of you breathed the same air and felt the same things. His fur touching yours, his paws on your back. You could hear a sharp inhale from him with the touch, but it soon returned to a slow inhale and exhale and his whiskers tickling yours. The low temperature of the cloudy night was long forgotten, now it was just you and him in this debarred show of affection. It was peaceful. It was quiet, giving a movement for the pattering rain to continue singing.

But he spoke anyway, cutting the sweet melody short. Drawing his head back slightly, he averted his gaze from yours, as if what he was about to say was very important to him,“I started wondering-actually-” He cleared his throat, the nerves catching up, “Um... over the past couple of days- If you, um- if you trouble yourself... with the thought of me... like I do... with you” His head faced you once more with a tentative yet adorable look. He was absolutely petrified from this new whatever you were. He was petrified… but you knew, whether it was fact, your intuition, or just simple stupidity, that he craved this new whatever just as much as you did.

But this was weird, you had to admit. His stuttering was weird (He’s never stuttering). This level of touch was weird (The two of you were accustomed to that sort of thing, but not like this). The feeling you felt in the pit of your stomach, the growing feeling was weird. You resented labeling it, whatever it was.

You resented labeling it. Always did, always would. Because once you confirmed to yourself what you felt was real, the chance of making it out alive would deplete exponentially. Because he would leave, like they always did. And if he left now- you’d barely be able to scrape by. So you didn't want to imagine what that would be like after you admitted everything.

But, for once, when you pulled away, there was a new measure of fondness that overtook everything you held close, every rule you’ve ever written for yourself. Because when you pulled away and stared into those blue, thinking and questioning and beautiful eyes, and when you reached up and ran a gentle finger over the conspicuous hole in his ear (despite your better judgment) and when he gasped lightly, his mouth agape and as he continued that observing and questioning stare (With something else mingling underneath, if you dared to dream)... nothing was holding you back. It could be the death of something precious, but as long as you could show him you cared, the needed actions were important and required.

So before you could spiral into another abyss of hurt and regret and rules written in sand, you reached up onto your toes and closed your eyes, still enveloped in a warm embrace that challenged the night itself. You somehow got closer to him, with the smell of syrup and rain coalescing your senses, and your whiskers locked together as you brushed your lips against his. With extreme care, you took the lead in navigating this newfound warmth. For a couple of seconds, you just stood there as your current post short-circuit predicament was brought forth into conscious realization and you started regretting everything that brought you to this point, to this kiss. The confidence was melting away and you were about to pull back, but that was the exact moment you felt him return it with the zeal of a starving man.

For what felt like hours, the two of you stood in the pelting rain and nipping wind and the glow of the bright moon and odd yellow street lights. For what felt like hours, you were free of the problems that veiled you in life and haunted you in dreams. For what felt like hours, you let yourself feel love.

But all good things came to an end, and you were running out of breath. When you pulled away and opened your eyes, you got to witness something not many get to see. His eyes were closed for the first few seconds, but when they opened again you could see the blown pupils and awestruck expression on his face, the parted, gasping mouth, and the shallow breaths and the completely ruffled exterior, with all that thinking and commotion going on inside displayed perfectly for view. Something you didn't know you needed.

When he got himself together again, you were patiently waiting (As you always were). The yellow of the lamps lit up his face, his astonished expression evident as for once he was lost for words.

“I-I… you-”

“I’ll see you again tomorrow, hm?” You let your voice become a whisper to reflect the rain that continued to patter on the stone ground, “Can't wait to see a drunk Freckle. I wonder what he’s gonna do when Ivy kisses him” Back to the persona. Back with the personality.

Before the innate desire to stay with him caught up with you, you sent him a quick peck on the cheek and snapped around without much thought, back towards where you came from. Your tail swished against his leg as you walked away as a last form of good-bye, and before you turned the corner you threw a quick glance at him, the want controlling the rational part of your brain that demanded a dramatic exit.

Cradling his cheek with his hand, his mouth was agape (as it seemed to be quite often recently) and his pretty gaze was trained on you from across the alley. When he registered your eyes on him, he did a slight double take and straightened himself up even though that did absolutely nothing as he still look as frazzled as before. So very adorable. So very yours. Through the rain, you decidedly sent him a quick wink and walked away. Keeping face, and all.

And for the first time in a while as you trenched back to that dingy apartment you’ve started to identify as home, you wondered if the ability to love still thrived inside you. Truly love, not the acting you displayed constantly to satisfy the seemingly infinite void of fear woven into the fabric of your being like an abandon tapestry left to collect dust. You’d have to give love another shot and tend to it, though. As your dad used to say, miracles don't come by often, and only an idiot lets one slip by. Rocky sure felt like a miracle.

#rocky rickaby #lackadaisy #rocky x reader #request stuff if you’d like #let me know if you enjoyed it #freckle lackadaisy #lackadaisy x reader #Fluff #mutual pining #lackadaisy rocky x reader #Sunshine #Nicknames #Rocky Rickaby x reader #roark rickaby #Roark Rickaby x reader #lackadaisy imagines #lackadaisy imagine

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gcthvile · 4 months

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A shoulder to lean on

Pairing: Rei Stark x Peter Parker

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: When Rei Stark loses his beloved mother to illness, he shuts down completely - withdrawing from school, friends, and the outside world. Tormented by his grief and loss, Rei walls himself off behind closed doors, shutting even his best friend Peter Parker out of his spiral into despair.

warnings: none

When his mother first fell ill, Rei threw himself into finding a cure. He spent every waking moment in the lab, searching for anything that could help her. But as her condition deteriorated, so did his hope.

The day she slipped away was the day everything went dark. Rei stumbled home in a daze, collapsing at her bedside. He didn't move for hours, even as the medics came to take her away. His world had ended.

In the following days, FRIDAY tried to get him to eat, sleep, see others—to take care of himself. But Rei was non-responsive. He just sat numbed by grief, replying only in monosyllables.

When Peter came by that first week, worried but wanting to comfort his friend, all FRIDAY would say was that Rei wasn't accepting visitors. Peter left dejected, anxiety growing by the day with no word from Rei.

The weeks dragged on and Rei faded further. He stopped leaving his room, stopped going to classes or returning calls and texts. His father stopped by in between missions, but Rei barely acknowledged him. Numbness was his only escape from the unrelenting pain.

Tony entered Rei's darkened room without knocking, concern etched on his face. "Rei, we need to talk."

Rei didn't look up from where he sat huddled in the corner. "Go away," he muttered.

But Tony stood firm. "I can't do that, kid. It's been over a month and you're not getting any better. You have to start taking care of yourself."

"What's the point?" said Rei flatly. "Nothing matters anymore."

Tony's voice rose in frustration. "Of course it matters! Your life matters, your future - do you think your mother would want to see you wasting away like this?"

Rei flinched at the mention of his mother but still didn't look up. "Don't pretend you understand. You never loved anyone like I loved her."

"Maybe not," snapped Tony. "But I'm your father and it's killing me to see you doing this to yourself! If you don't start eating, sleeping, acting like a human again, I'll have no choice but to commit you for treatment."

That got Rei's attention. His head shot up, eyes blazing with anger through his grief. "You can't do that!"

"I can and I will if it saves your life!" countered Tony. "You're not the only one who lost her, Rei. Please, just let me help you." His voice cracked with emotion.

Rei hesitated, some of the fight draining from him at the raw concern in his father's eyes. Slowly, he nodded. "Okay. I'll...I'll try. For you." Tony sagged in relief. "Thank you. It's a start." Rei knew he had to pull himself back to functioning, even just for appearances. But internally, he still felt hollow. Going through the motions of school brought him no relief or joy.

Seeing Peter's familiar face in the crowd was almost too much. Guilt weighed on him for worrying his friend for so long with no contact. Yet he never dared to approach.

The walk through the halls to class was agonizing. Rei felt every eye on him as whispers and stares followed in his wake. He hunched into himself, hoping to disappear while also wishing for a reason to lash out.

Inside the classroom was even worse. All the familiar faces looked at him with shared sadness and unasked questions. He could practically hear their thoughts: Was he okay? What happened? How could they help?

But no one dared approach, sensing his fragile state. Good—he wasn't ready for their pity or platitudes yet. Just being there amongst them all felt oppressive, reminding him of the life he had before...before.

Rei took his seat and stared numbly at his desk, tuning out the review lecture he'd already long since learned. His gaze drifted unseeing as vacant memories played on repeat in his head: lazy afternoons in the lab with his mom, her laugh, the way her eyes would crinkle at the corners...

A sting started behind his eyes but he blinked it back furiously. No more tears—he was done with that. From then on it was just...nothing. Blessed numbness to get him through each endless day.

When the bell finally freed him, Rei rushed from the room, wanting only to be alone. To escape back into the dark sanctuary of his mind where he didn't have to feel anything anymore.

In the empty corridor, Peter stood firm, hands on his hips as Rei tried to brush past.

"Oh no you don't," said Peter fiercely. "You're not avoiding this anymore. What's going on with you?"

Rei kept walking. "Nothing. Leave me alone."

Peter grabbed his arm, spinning him around. "That's bullshit and you know it! You disappear for over a month without a word and then show up looking like a corpse? Tell me what's wrong, Rei."

Rei wrenched his arm free. "It's none of your business!"

"The hell it isn't!" cried Peter. "I care about you, you idiot! I've been worried sick!"

"Well don't bother," snapped Rei. "No one can help me, okay? Just stay out of it!"

"Not a chance," growled Peter. "Not until you talk to me. You're my best friend - please, let me in."

His voice cracked with frustration and concern, eyes begging Rei to drop his walls. Rei faltered under that earnest gaze, feeling his resolve crumble, but all he could do was snap at his friend at the moment, "It's my mom, okay?! She died, Peter. She fucking died. And I couldn't save her." Rei's voice broke on the last words as fresh tears rose.

Instantly Peter's anger dissolved into sympathy. "Oh Rei, I'm so sorry." He pulled the other boy into a hug as Rei finally lost the battle and began to sob.

He held Rei tight, letting him grieve. "You don't have to do this alone," he murmured. "I'm here for you, always."

Rei gripped the back of Peter's shirt tightly as he cried, weeks of pent up grief pouring out of him. It felt like he was drowning in sorrow, but Peter's solid presence kept him tethered.

When the sobs finally subsided, Rei pulled back just enough to wipe his damp cheeks. Peter's hands moved to rub comforting circles on his back.

"I'm sorry," Rei mumbled, raw from emotion. "For....For shutting you out or whatever."

Peter chuckled softly and shook his head. "Don't apologize. I get why you did it, but that's over now, okay? No more shutting me out."

Rei nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He felt strangely lighter now that Peter knew his burden. But the memory of his loss was still fresh.

As if sensing his need for distraction, Peter took his hand gently. "Come on, let's go get some fresh air. Think you can handle the rest of the day?"

Rei hesitated, then nodded again. With Peter by his side, maybe facing the world wouldn't be so hard.

They walked in companionable silence, hands clasped tight between them. For the first time in weeks, rays of hope broke through Rei's storm clouds. He wasn't alone—and with Peter's support, maybe he could learn to heal.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!

@jackiequick @mallowbee4 @blueboirick @meiramel @missstrawbs2001 @gaminggirlsstuff

#oc post #oc rp #oc rpg #marvel #marvel roleplay #marvel oc #marvel x oc #rei stark #rei stark x peter parker

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irrlicht-writes · 1 year

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forget-me-not

And you’ll strew some sage and lilies And roses where I rot Of all the flowers you picked I knew you would forget forget-me-nots

~*~

Sometimes, Jaskier stares into nothing.

Over the years, Geralt watches him and he doesn’t understand. He never asks, because Jaskier is simple. But sometimes, Jaskier stares and Geralt wonders what he’s seeing.

“Geralt,” the bard asks one day, mindlessly strumming his lute, “have you ever seen one of the fair folk?”

“No,” Geralt replies, “at least not to my knowledge. They are tricky creatures; you’d best to stay away from them. Why do you ask? Writing a song about them?”

“No,” the bard replies, “I was just wondering. Is there a way to tell if you meet them?”

“Do you think you met one?”

Jaskier blinks up at him, his lute forgotten in his arms. Geralt’s rarely seen Jaskier so unfocused and it worries him a little. Is the bard catching sick? He’s usually incredibly hardy. Jaskier looks to the side, away from Geralt, into the forest around them. He doesn’t answer.

Geralt listens. He can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, just the normal sound of the woods. Somewhere there is a nest of Nekkers, and Geralt hopes it’ll be a contract in the next village.

Jaskier tears himself away from the forest and starts moving again.

“I’m just wondering,” he whispers, almost to himself and Geralt isn’t sure whether or not he was supposed to hear that.

The bard plays a soft melody but he doesn’t sing. He doesn’t look behind him and Geralt worries he might just disappear completely. Slowly, Roach starts moving, following the bard’s lead.

The day had been normal before, but now, now it feels eerie. It feels like someone else is watching. However, when he looks around, Geralt cannot see anyone beyond the trees.

In the tavern, the bard returns to normal, all talk of fair folk forgotten. Geralt breathes a sigh of relief, almost audibly. Jaskier is weird, when he isn’t his usual, chatty self. The bard performs songs for the crowd, securing them a room and a hearty meal for the evening. Tomorrow, Geralt will look for the alderman about the Nekker nest. Today, he will drink the bad ale in the tavern and watch Jaskier perform.

The Witcher isn’t sure why, but he’s hesitant to leave. This time, this feels precious, like he wants to remember this. When Jaskier spots him at the table in the crowd, he smiles. Geralt feels like he has to treasure it.

And it scares him.

Jaskier is humming.

“Sing the song to me?”

“No, I can’t.”

Jaskier is humming.

“Your bard is floating.”

“I told you not to hex him.”

Yennefer scoffs. “Oh, I’d wish. But look.”

Geralt looks.

Jaskier sits at the campfire Geralt made and Yennefer is right; he’s floating. He’s humming the same tune he had been humming a few days ago, with a faraway look in his eyes. By all rights, he should hear them, but he doesn’t react. Quietly, he is humming, staring into nothing.

“I’m worried. He’s been – off, for a while now. When I leave him for winter – I don’t –“

“You want me to watch over him? That’s not going to happen, Geralt, I’m not your dog.”

Geralt sighs. He hadn’t meant that. He is simply worried. Summer is nearing its end, and he cannot take the bard with him to the Keep. Not only because of his brothers and Vesemir, but also because Jaskier would be so terribly bored after a week.

Jaskier stops humming and looks up. He doesn’t look at them, yet he seems to listen to something nonetheless.

“Jaskier?” Geralt calls out to him but the bard doesn’t react. His eyes are transfixed above the flame, staring into the trees again. He moves his lips, but no sound comes out.

“Bardling?”

Jaskier turns his head toward them and still, he can’t fix his eyes on them.

“Geralt,” he whispers, “what does the fair folk look like?”

Geralt gets up immediately. “Where did you see them?”

Jaskier shakes his head.

“I can’t,” he whispers desperately, “I can’t. I’m scared.”

He resumes his humming, louder this time, with utter despair laced into it.

Geralt scans the treeline, but he finds nothing.

“Geralt,” Yennefer says.

Geralt turns and he sees the witch holding the bard’s hand.

“Your bard is floating.”

And Geralt can see him float away, even though Yennefer tries so hard.

Jaskier picks flowers in a field.

Geralt and Yennefer are standing a distance away, Roach sticking close to the bard. She seems to be picking flowers for her mane for the man to braid into it.

The wind is soft today, and there’s no cloud in the sky.

Jaskier is slipping through Geralt’s hands and he doesn’t know what to do. Whatever fair folk Jaskier might be seeing, Geralt can never find them.

That evening, Geralt doesn’t complain when Jaskier braids his hair full of flowers. The bard laughs and behind them, the flowers are softly waving.

In Geralt’s hair, there are forget-me-nots.

“Promise me, Geralt,” Jaskier says one day.

“Hm?”

They are lying on the earth, looking up into the starry night sky above them.

“Forget me not, when I’m gone?”

“I’m not letting you go.”

Jaskier laughs, a melody on the wind.

“Darling, I’m already on the path.”

~*~

On this day, it rains.

When Geralt turns, the path behind him is empty.

Years, and years later, when Geralt is older than he ever thought he would be, he finds himself at the coast.

He remembers a bard, young and yearning.

We could head to the coast, eh?

They could have.

The horse under him is Roach, but she doesn’t remember a bard. And yet, Geralt catches her watch the woods sometimes, like she’s looking for something.

Geralt is watching too. He’s never found the fair folk, never found the path the bard had taken.

He thinks about leaving. He thinks about dying.

He’d die in battle is what he always thought. But now, fights are his no longer.

The waves in the distance are soothing and Geralt closes his eyes.

If he forgets he’s at the coast, the waves sound much like humming from so long ago.

I can hear the cannons calling As though across a dream And I can smell the smoke of hell In every stitch and seam And like flowers, the bodies tumble Around this muddied lot I cannot hear them scream "Forget me not"

On this day, it doesn’t rain.

When Geralt turns, there is someone behind him on the path.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #dandelion #the witcher netflix #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #irrlicht writes #geraskier #listen i know this is weird #experimental

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iron-embers · 5 months

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Whatever brief moments of interaction they had in the past were short and mostly of him being belligerent towards her, trying to get her to mess up and leave whenever she did something he didn’t like. Whether it was trying to get a rise out of her, or him trying to pry into her past. Shinjuro was short sighted when it came to understanding other’s personal lives, on more than one occasion crossing the boundary of getting into her business just so he could find something wrong to point out. Perhaps in some sad attempt at making himself feel better about himself. In his state he couldn’t fathom why a relatively young woman would spend all of her time in someone else’s home, having no where else to go and not imparting any info about other family she could turn to. It was puzzling, shouldnt she be taking care of her own family instead of spending every waking moment with his. Hatomi wasn’t the type to get offended easily by hurtful words, and so whenever he tried to insult her, she brushed it off with ease and focused on her duties. Never did she take any of his inebriated words to heart, for why grace his erratic behavior with a thought out response….until one day he had asked her. “Why even keep coming here? Are you that lonely that you would rather spend your time babying someone else’s bastards instead of caring for your own? What would your husband think?”

Usually she would have changed the subject or even give a half-lie to throw him off……but that week had been trying, and Kaito’s anniversary was a couple days away and so the feelings she had kept dormant had slipped out as she merely stated with calm yet curt tone. “I would not know sir, seeing as how he is long dead and asking his corpse would prove ineffective.”

It was meant to be sarcastic, and while he did scoff in annoyance, she took notice that he became less confrontational with her after that. It remained a mystery to her as to why he never went as far as to hit his children, and never once raised a hand to her when he was out of his senses. It was one relief of a few throughout her service that left her equally perplexed. And after all these years it was a sign that she realized that despite his inexcusable absence for his children and attitude, deep inside there was still a heart in there. Albeit a broken and pain filled one, but it was enough that she saw through the few cracks that showed in those moments. The fleeting moments had now evolved from what once was seen as loathing, to behavior acting out of hate for himself and how low he had fallen. The revelation not clouded by judgement that despite their differences, even in his bouts of being under the Sake’s influence the cruel words he would use to dissuade Kyojuro and Senjuro was a facade, a mask he used to hide his misery.

Just a little peak of their story, wanted to encapsulate Hatomi during her beginning years as the Rengoku’s governess, adjusting to a new environment after leaving her old home, now in a home where two children look for support from a father who has emotionally checked out after his wife died. Needless to say even in her younger years she saw the despair he was in, and chose not to be as reactive/confrontational whenever he said something out of line. These are a few moments she would let her frustration seep out, respectful but reminding him not to push a grieving widow either. Had to add a sketch as well of a late twenties Hatomi and early thirties Shinjuro, hope ya like and stay tuned!

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4200nemobackup · 2 years

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Juicy.

Pairing: Gang leader! Jungkook x Gang leader! Reader

Premise: Y/n jung , notoriously known as Lucki, is the leader of Blood money: a gang famous in the Bronx for stealing back what was taken from them. When her right hand and best friend, Jailbird is murdered in absolute cold blood, Lucki finds herself having to join forces with her arch-nemesis, Jungkook to get to the bottom of the crime. Jungkook is the leader of Blood Moneys main rival gang: Redrum. As the two of them are thrusted into a web of murder and motives together, their deep loathing of one another births a heated sexual tension and passionate love, among other things.

Warning⚠️ : this story contains mentions of Gang lifestyles and rivalries, murder, guns,childhood trauma, prostitution, mentions of sexual assault, blood, cursing, law enforcement and lawful processes.

This story also contains fluff, detailed smut, sub/dom dynamics,(sub!jungkook) (dom!y/n), praise, degradation, angry sex, cuddling, pegging, edging, gags, blindfolds, chastity, whips, leashes, multiple orgasms, handcuffs.

A/n: thank you to @bloodline1632 for helping me out greatly with the development of this story! It will be a series, and this will be the only thing I’m writing for a while, and I will make sure to update chapters regularly! I’m not sure how much chapters it will be but I truly hope you all enjoy it!

Taglist: @bloodline1632 @lchimmyl @zoroscrustyboogers0 @monochrome-707 @namjooncrabs

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When people die, their death always awakes a fire within the hearts of the people that loved them; the people they loved.

Despair and confusion gives birth to determination. Determination translates to motivation and action.

But not before grief. Never before grief.

Grief brings anger, frustration, lack of understanding. It brings denial, depression, fatigue.

Luckis tears were a product of grief.

Her huge tears couldn’t help but pour down her cheeks, as her eyes became lost in the photo of her best friend. The picture wasn’t even little over 2 years old. Yes, the picture was fairly new, and the person in it happened to be gone as quickly as the picture was taken. It was insane; how could someone be here on Earth one day, and truly gone the next.

Hoseok, Luckis older brother, stood firmly behind his sister, refusing to shed a tear. His choice was rooted in his deep love for his younger sister, who he wanted to keep face for. It was always like this. It had always been like that for Lucki and Hoseok, even since they were kids.

Even when their money-devouring parents left them alone, subject to the real and dangerous world, it was just Hoseok and Lucki bound together. It was even since then he realized at age twelve that if he cried, who would comfort them both? They had no one, and when he succumbed to the rippling waves, who could they both rely on to fish them out of the deep ocean?

No one. Nobody.

With this in mind, Hoseok tugged his small sister close and held onto her as if her life depended on it. He had to hold the fishing rod when he was twelve, and he would continue to hold it now, even twelve odd years later.

As the loud but solemn, funeral music choked on its depressing tune, the pastor strutted to the stage and cleared his elderly throat. The church was silent, save for a few sniffles that sounded in different corners of the pews. It was time to continue the ceremony, promptly.

“Next, we have the deceased’s best friend, Y/n Jung, presenting a speech in honor of Ms.Mendoza. Please do your best to welcome her to the stage properly. Thank you.”

The guests did everything but hold their applause as Lucki moped to the podium with a piece of white copy paper folded neatly in her hands. Hoseok remained steadily behind her, his presence acting as emotional support for his sister at the moment.

Lucki approached the stand, her fingers fooling around with the note trapped between them. She opens her mouth to speak, but her voice projected itself in the way that she internally felt; broken.

Her voice cracked, “Good afternoon, everyone.”

Good afternoon, she heard back from the crowd.

It was now her turn to clear her throat.

“Dear Carmen-Louisa Mendoza”, she began taking a deep breath. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m glad I get to be one of those people who talk about finding their soulmate now at least. You were like the light in every corner of my life. I remember how we could laugh at anything together. I don’t think you knew, but one time when we were falling asleep you said, that Hobi was the Earth, I was the sun, and you were the moon. I don’t think you know that I knew that but I knew.”

Hoseok, or Hobi, cracked an endearing grin. He imagined Carmens voice saying such a thing.

Hobi is the earth but, me and you are the sun and moon. We orbit around that big idiot and I’m glad that it’s like that you know?

Carmen barely said anything sentimental, but when she did, Hoseok liked to think it meant more to him when she said these things rather than when others did. It displayed how much Carmen actually cared, despite her often nonchalant front.

“And then when Hobi started dating Sunny, you said how she’s all the plants on Earth. It took me a little to figure out that you were saying that she was his heart, and when I did figure that out, I almost broke down in tears.”

Luckis fat waterworks returned to her face, and the congestion to her nose.

“I remember when we rode skateboards for the first time, and you tried doing a trick you saw on tv, and you fell. You had a concussion. Hoseok got super mad at us, telling us that he would starve us both if we ever did that again.”

Tiny chuckles bounced off of the church walls, bringing a lighter energy to the atmosphere.

“I remember the day I saw you sobbing for the first time, and you never told me what it was. You never said why you were crying, and then I found out it was because your favorite character in a tv show died. I couldn’t believe it. I never thought you, Carmen Louisa could cry so deeply about something like that. But that’s when I started learning that you were such a softie. Your heart was aching for love and comfort. You loved hard Carmen.”

“I remember how you held my hand when we got our first tattoos. I was actually crying from the pain, it felt so bad, it hurt like hell. And now all I can think is that you won’t be able to hold my hand and say something to cheer me up.”

Lucki stole a glance at her and Carmens matching tattoo. It was a graphic of a keychain holding a four leaf clover charm and caged bird on his clasps. Upon first glance, the tattoo was incredibly interesting to others, even considered ugly but, it held such a deep meaning.

As Lucki uttered the last few sentences of her speech, the delicate glass in her throat shattered into one million pieces. It cut up her precious vocal chords, and brought an everlasting rasp to her voice:

“Carmen-Louisa Mendoza was my best friend. Most of you may know her as Jailbird. You may know her as a friend. You may know her as something other than that. One thing we all know though, is how much of a uniting force she was. Carmen was like glue, keeping all of us together, even when times made it seem like we were gonna split.”

Hoseok rested his palms on his sisters shoulders, silently consoling her, coaxing her through the rest of her heartbreaking message to the stars.

Dear Carmen-Louisa Mendoza, please rest in beautiful peace. There’s so many things I want to tell you right now, like I love you, I miss you, I want you back. But I can’t……I can’t and it really hurts right now.

Violent sobs racked Lucki’s body. She shuffled off to the side and sniffled, her brief pause saddening the audience in front of her. Hoseok continued rubbing her shoulder, trying his best not to break down himself at the sight of his only sister heaving and struggling to make it through another sentence or two.

“Cmon Luck! You can do it!” Sunny shouted from her seat in the front. Lucki nodded and continued back to the podium, ready to finish her speech.

Always in our minds,

Always in our memories,

Always in our hearts, Carmen-Louisa Mendoza.

Lucki had decided to keep the letter professional at the end, with the guidance of Sunny. She desired to add more explicit words in it but, Sunny advised her that cursing at her best friends funeral wasn’t ideal, and that pouring the gold in her heart out was the best choice.

She retreated from the alter, Hoseok attached to her still. Lucki made her way back to her seat, slumping in her spot and letting out a heart wrenching wail. Hoseok and Sunny exchanged knowing glances, and Sunny pulled Lucki into her comfortable hold. Hoseok cuddled up into the other side of his sister. Lucki just unconsciously weeped, her social awareness no longer holding her back. Her need to look unbreakable in front of her members and underlings vanished instantly. She wanted to be comforted, she wanted to be seen. Her heart was hurting. A crack would be present in her heart forever, and always. Now she knew, how it felt to really lose your other half.

The funeral concluded, and all of the guests payed their final respects to the deceased.

Everyone poured into the middle of the building, exiting through the brown double doors at the end of the purple carpet.

Outside stood Lucki, sulking as she glared at the grey skies. Was Carmen up there, waiting for Lucki to come see her?

Sunny and Hoseok held hands, staring at the young girl in front of them. They were conjuring up ideas of how they could help Lucki cope with Carmens untimely death. Everyone knew it; they were like sisters, two peas packed tightly in one pod. Seeing one without the other would just be abnormal now.

Lucki glared at the grey skies above her.

The pain of losing felt so new to her every-time it happened. She was a gang-leader. She couldn’t even count the casualties on her ten fingers and toes. Surely the deaths had piled up since she founded her gang. Everyone died by the swords they lived by. It was a true fact of such a dangerous lifestyle.

Sometimes Lucki felt selfish. Carmen did as much crimes as the next person but, still Lucki felt deep in her soul that Carmen still had so much to do. Much more than the next person. She wasn’t like the next person, no. Lucki thought Carmen was way higher than average. She could do things that no one else could do.

It wasn’t fair. Lucki wanted Justice. Lucki wanted revenge. That was the part she left out in her letter. Her unspoken thoughts were vengeful. Dangerous, Damning.

She dried her tears, and started up a stride to the sidewalk like she knew how, retreating from the church’s sickening atmosphere that was tearing down the foundations of her soul.

Hoseok called out. “Lucki, where are you going?”

“The bar!” Lucki shouted back. The bar was the gangs hideout. It was another way for Lucki to secure funds but, passerby’s and simple customers never questioned the establishment. To them, it was a regular bar they could sit at and enjoy a drink in.

Hoseok nodded, leaving his sister off to walk alone. He wasn’t too worried about her, because he knew exactly where her mind was at. Hoseok knew his sisters heart like no one else; she didn’t want to be bothered for a good reason.

As Lucki strutted down the sidewalk, her eyes glimpsed a man dressed from head to toe in a black suit. Equipped with a cane, he calmly walked towards her. A tall woman, and person stood behind him, seemingly guarding him with their lives. The three of them approached from an expensive looking car, one Lucki only knew rich folks to drive.

“Excuse me. I want to start off by saying that I know you don’t know me well.”

Lucki placed her palm on the gun hidden gently in her trousers waistband.

“But I wanted to pay my respects to Ms.Mendoza. I understand that you two were closely affiliated, correct?”

Lucki narrowed her eyebrows at the pretty man, unclear of his motives for wanting confirmation of such information.

“What do you want?”

He sighed and reached in the pocket of his suit for a card; a small business card that was colored red.

“I can tell you who may have murdered Ms.Mendoza.”

Luckis palm dropped to her side, as well as the expression on her tear stained face. Desperate for answers, she gripped onto the platinum-blondes shoulders suddenly. This startled his guards but, he stopped them from taking action. He knew exactly how Lucki felt, so his judgements were nonexistent.

“Please,” she rasped. “Please. I need to know.”

Lucki dropped to her feet, her new tears staining the mans expensive, leather loafers. The man blinked back his own tears. Looking at Lucki act this way was like staring into his past; he was sure he looked exactly like her when grief fell upon him too.

“My name is Park Jimin, but I am known exclusively as J. Please, take my card, and call me when you are ready to discuss the details. I will have my driver pick you up. It’s your call, Ms.Jung.”

Jimin extended his soft hand to Luckis sunken form, waiting for her to take hold of it. She did, using it to bring herself up to her feet.

She wiped her tears and held onto the card for dear life, thanking Jimin for his kindness. He nodded and retreated into his expensive car, officially driving away from the scene.

The card found its way into the back pocket of Luckis trousers, secured. It was placed there until Lucki arrived at the bar, where it was then removed and placed directly in Luckis dirty hands.

Her entrance wasn’t expected, but even if it was, nobody was prepared for what appeared in front of them.

Nobody had ever seen their leader so broken before, so morose and fatigued. She looked as if she imploded onto herself, she was no longer standing tall instead…….slouching. Black lines outlined her under-lids, and her eyes were extremely puffy. Her scleras were bloodshot, a dead giveaway at what she had been up to for the past week or two that she was gone. Nobody was counting, but it’s not like they weren’t either. Who wouldn’t notice the absence of their commander and chief, the person who called every shot?

The room only silenced, all eyes watched their once abrasive leader struggle to put one foot in front of the other, on a course to her office. They continued to stare at her door too, after she weakly closed it behind her, sealing herself off from the outside world.

Noise slowly traveled through the bar once again but not without reluctance. Everyone needed a moment to process what they had just seen.

The processing everyone was in the middle of was briefly interrupted, as Hoseok and Sunny entered the bar, only a minute later. Sunny approached the bartender on shift, whispering in their ear. They took off their apron, and handed it to her. Sunny made her way to the back of the bar counter, resuming the old bartenders shift. She immediately put a warm smile on her face, genuinely tending to the newly-arrived customers.

Hoseok watched his fiancé tenderly. He loved the way she wore her big heart on her sleeve.

Her eyes met his, and sent him off to his sisters side.

Hobi knocked on the door and silently let himself into his sisters office.

It was almost like their story was a Bible verse. It was some kind of prophecy. Hoseok would be left to quietly be his sisters keeper whenever her wounds were too deep. When the time came that she couldn’t fend for herself any longer, he would turn into her hero figure for a while. It was a never ending cycle, one that Hoseok wished would end. He was tired of seeing his sister get in these situations, and now that Carmen wasn’t here, it was even worse for her.

He knew this, all of it. He had spent a myriad of time thinking of Carmens absence and it’s thousands of downsides. He knew that this would happen, and it would somehow only get worse from here.

Until then, he would continue to stick by his sister. Until he was proven wrong, he would be by her side like glue.

“Y/n, y/nnie…….wake up….”

Lucki was dead-slumbered against her hard wooden desk. Her snores seemed to tune Hoseok out each time he called for her, so he just tapped her instead.

She shot up, clearly startled. The cocked pistol in her hand proved the point that her delirious state was taking control of her slowly.

“Relax, y/n. It’s just me. There’s no need to be hostile after nap time.”

“Sure. You’re right, I just…..Hobi I’ve been on total edge lately. What the fuck am I gonna do without her? I’m fucked.”

“I understand but, you still need to take some kind of care for your mental. I only woke you up because I wanted to check on you.”

Lucki nodded and plopped down against her desk once more. She needed a drink. She needed pills, she needed.

She didn’t need any of that shit. She needed Carmen back. All the other stuff was the substitute. A remedy, or addiction for a broken heart. Her broken heart. What she really could use was time to think. Lucki realized she had a gang that still needed her supervision and guidance. If she was drunk all the time, how could she do her job?

A knock on the door interrupted her brief inner-monologue. Lucki and Hoseok looked to the door and waited for someone to enter.

At the door was Sunny, with two sultry men standing fairly tall behind her. They looked like the feds, which was a cause for concern. The feds never even weaved through that bar for a damn drink, what the fuck could they be doing there? Did someone get caught? Were they busted?

Shakily Sunny explained, “These men….erm….wanna talk to you Luck. I’ll be right out.”

Hoseok and Lucki exchanged curious glances once again. Lucki reached for her pistol again, her radar on red alert.

“We are the FBI. We know who you are, you’re Y/N Jung. We have some questions to ask you.”

Hoseok removed his gaze from his sister to the two chairs that waited on the other side of her desk. He pulled them out and motioned for the two men to take a seat in them.

“I am Detective Kim, and this is Detective Min. It’s nice to meet you, Ms.Jung,” Detective Kim greeted with his hand held out. Lucki just glared between his face and his hand, and awkward energy filled the room.

“Oh….ok. We are both from the FBI and-

“You’ve said that already”, interrupted Lucki.

“What do you want?”

Hobi tensed up and shot Lucki a scolding look.

“Y/n! I’m so sorry, she means, how can we help?”

“You can let go of your gun Ms.Jung. We aren’t here to arrest anyone, or hurt anyone. We’re just here to ask questions.”

The agents exchanged glances and pulled out a creme colored folder. They gently placed it on the table, agent min held a palm over it.

“We were at the funeral today. We understand that Ms.Mendoza was murdered from reports that we’ve accumulated. She’s not the only one who’s been murdered so gruesomely in the past month.”

Detective Min handed Hoseok the folder. “Be careful looking through it. There‘s photos of the deceased and their bodies at their respective crime scenes, including Ms.Mendoza.”

Carmen was found with a gunshot wound through her head, and another through her heart. The coroner had stated that she died instantly; Carmen couldn’t even be saved. Her heart stopped as soon as the bullet passed through her cranium. But now it was certain; she wasn’t the only one found like this. She wasn’t the only one who died like that.

Hoseok flipped through the photos, wincing at every single one of them. He prayed that he wouldn’t come across Carmens. He didn’t want to see her like that, which was the same reason why he agreed to her burial prior to her proper funeral date. He wanted to remember her alive, not left for dead.

A blonde woman with wavy hair and green eyes turned up in the deck of evidence. Hoseoks eyebrows furrowed deeply and caught the attention of the investigators present at the table.

“I know this girl. Veronica Lakes.”

Min and Kim exchanged glances, and then looked up at Hoseok.

“You know Ms.Lakes? How are you affiliated with her?”

“We used to work for the red witches gang together. We both worked for Redrum.”

The red witch made Detective Mins ears ring. A few years ago, he had been assigned to a case concerning Redrum. He was totally cocky, until the red witch proved a formidable opponent to even the FBI. She outsmarted them in every way. Whilst they had a line, she had a web of connections. In just a matter of weeks, she turned the world against the organization, and turned the bureau on their heads.

Everyone believed her come-up story was just a myth. A prostitute turned gang leader wasn’t your typical rags to riches story, but, the red witch wasn’t typical. Her opposition to the word blindsided those assigned to the case.

Detective Min hated the red witch then, and he hated the mention of her name now.

Finally, the mention led him to ask a question, for the first time in this whole interaction.

“What was your occupation under the red witch? Did Ms.lakes work with you under the same task?”

Hoseok sighed. Redrum didn’t exactly evoke pleasant emotions in him.

“Well, I babysat the red witches kids. The youngest two, the one who’s the leader now, and her youngest daughter. Veronica was a servant for the witch. We both worked in her house, and we became friends out of the need for company. She left before me though. I heard she wronged the gang, so she was dealt with, but I never knew how.”

Realization spread across Kim’s face. “Ms.Lakes was murdered a month ago. Everyone in this folder was murdered within a two month span. Do you recognize anyone else in the folder? The witch may have something to do with this.”

“She wouldn’t.” Hoseok objected. “The witch died about two years ago. If she wronged the witch she would’ve been dead as soon as word spread.”

Min shot up. “The witch is dead? How do you know?”

“One of my old buddies called me and told me. It was a murder. Nobody knows who did it. Even then, I don’t think anyone would wanna take revenge on anyone that wronged her. When I worked there, most people hated her and if you didn’t hate her, you didn’t love her either.”

Min and Kim defeatedly sighed simultaneously. Every time they felt they had a lead, the rug was pulled out from underneath them. Kim felt like punching his head repeatedly. This was his fucking big break. He couldn’t catch it, no matter what he did.

“Is there anyone to confirm your information?”

“Hmm. I’m still in some form of contact with the new leader. I haven’t seen him in person for a long time, but if I call him, you’ll be able to get in touch with him. He can confirm my information.”

“What’s your relationships with the son?”

Lucki piped up, the old memories of her seventeenth year on Earth floating up in her brain. “I used to be best friends with the son of a bitch. He was a pussy when I knew him but, now I hear he’s a big shot.”

Hoseok smacked his lips. “I’ve said several times I babysat the kid.”

The detectives nodded. Their work here was somewhat done. At least they had gotten a sliver more of information.

“What’s his name?”

“Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”

The evidence file was promptly closed and clasped. The men stood up and began towards the door, before turning around.

“We left our contacts on the table. Don’t hesitate to call us if you find out anything else about the case. We want to bring Justice for everyone in this folder, including Ms.Mendoza.”

Lucki pursed her lips. Those men knew what they were trying to do. Using her best-friend to push their needs to the top of her list was a shit move in her eyes.

“I’m sure you do. Now get out of my office.”

The men exited, leaving the looming frustration of Lucki behind them.

“Y/n,” Hoseok started. “These people wanna help us. You can’t just say fuck them! They want to help us out and you don’t even care.”

Lucki slammed her fist against her desk and faced her brother.

“I do care! I do! They just wanna use us to get their little paychecks. What do we get out of this? Of course I want justice for Carm but, what’re they gonna give us for exposing our lifestyles? They’re gonna give us jail Hobi. Jail.”

Hoseok paused, bitterly and utterly confused. He couldn’t understand where his sister was going with her accusation against the actual FBI. He understood that death was taking a heavy toll on his sisters mind but, this was just ridiculous.

He saw Lucki reaching for her phone, and speedily dialing an unknown number into her cellphone.

“Who is that?” He asked.

“You don’t know him.” Lucki simply answered.

“Cmon,” Hoseok said. “I know a lot of people. What’s his name?”

Lucki rolled her eyes. “His name is Park Jimin, but he said that people call him J.”

“It sounds familiar…….”

“You say that about everyone.”

Hoseok took a seat in front of his sister. He grabbed one of her hands and stared into her eyes, trying to appeal to her sea of irrational emotions.

“I just want to know who it is because I want you to be safe. I am worried about you, y/n. I already lost Carmen, and I don’t want to lose you either. You’re starting to scare me. Promise me you won’t get hurt,”

Y/n sighed deeply. She was nineteen now, almost twenty years old. She was sure she could fend for herself against this man. She figured if Jimin wanted to hurt her, he would’ve dazzled her with his demonic wealth instead of showing her the genuine kindness of his heart.

“I promise Hobi. I’ll be fine.”

Hoseok lovingly patted Luckis head.

“Ok. You promised.”

Luckis attention returned back to her answered phone. She put the phone up to her ear and was startled when she heard such a feminine voice speak.

Hello! Who is this calling?

Y/n cleared her throat. “It’s Ms.Jung. I’m calling for Park Jimin? He said we could meet when I was ready to speak.”

One second please!

Please send your address to this number promptly. A limousine should be able to pick you up in ten minutes. We have drivers everywhere.

The phone clicked, leaving y/n to her own devices. The FBIs little pop-in told her nothing about who killed Carmen. All it did was make her upset. Jimin was essentially her last resort: if his leads and evidence were faulty, there was no other hope.

#sub!idol #sub!bts #sub!jimin #sub!jungkook #sub!namjoon #sub!hoseok #sub!jin #sub!taehyung #sub!yoongi #gang leader!jungkook #gang leader!reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook #mafia!jungkook

125 notes · View notes

anruraiocht · 6 months

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parts of me died in the house i grew up in

(cw: suicidal ideation)

"I want to go outside," is the sentence that falls from your lips at the sound of your door creaking open.

Without tearing your gaze from the window, you can hear the count shift awkwardly in the doorway. A few short years ago, you would have run over, little hands tugging at his coat, desperate for human contact.

"...My lady, today is..."

When you were younger, it had been a question, a young princess seeking permission to go outside and play. Now, it is a command fulfilled less than half of the time.

"Conomor."

"Have you..." He treads carefully, not wanting to set off your temper. "...Slept, my lady?"

You finally rip your gaze away from the window, showing the count your haggard face. The answer to his question is obvious just from looking at you. He stiffens, concern furrowing his brow. He, too, looks worse than the last time you saw him. Another streak of grey peppers his dark hair.

"I want to go outside," you reiterate.

You haven't slept. Of course you haven't. How are you supposed to sleep when the sound of screams keeps you awake all night? It's your father wailing in despair for his lost kingdom. It's your mother, keening in grief for your late father. It's the screams of someone you don't recognize, but they haunt the castle, nevertheless. It's the screams of your people as the Empire invades your home. It's your own screams, shredding your throat into a raw, bloody mess.

It doesn't really matter who it came from or if your mind is just playing tricks on you. If you stay in this room any longer, it's going to kill you, just like it did your mother and father.

"...Forgive me, Your Highness."

He kneels low to the floor, head hanging. His answer won't change even if you pester him like a petulant child. But aren't you a child to begin with? No matter how much he tries to shrink his body or emphasize your title to defer to you, you're still just a little girl. No matter how much you kick and scream, he can't give you what you want.

Today, you're too tired to be angry.

Your gaze sweeps to his hip where his empty scabbard hangs. He always makes sure to remove his sword before entering your room. Now that you're older, you understand why. On days like this, you resent him for it, even though it's not his decision. They're careful to never allow forks or knives to remain in your room after your meals, just in case.

You are of no use if you're dead, after all.

You turn your head back to the window, rejecting his stilted attempt at soothing you.

"Leave me, then. I wish to rest."

Count Conomor says something back, likely a wish to rest well, but you've already tuned him out. The dull sound of the door creaking shut hardly registers to your ears.

Alone once more, you draw your knees up to your chest, folding into yourself. You can't sleep, not on your bed, where your mother and father had kissed your forehead when they had tucked you in. Later, you will fall asleep here on the windowsill, as close to the outside as you can get.

#👑 drabbles #suicidal ideation cw //#//<fairly loosely implied but like just to be safe #//miranda doesnt want to talk about what happened when she was being held in ulster. i do though :)

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astarab1aze · 5 days

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dying breath / lounie tunes uwu

non-verbal angst

The expression on his face was nothing short of his usual - placid, cheeky, mischievous - but underneath it all, he was boiling. Burning and scorching with a fire foreign even to him, crackling into embers then ash, cooking from the inside out.

She said this would happen, that it had to. Something about godhood, something about Leanne, something something something, it didn't matter and he didn't care - the fact of the matter was, he was losing her. And it wasn't his fault this time, but by that same token, he couldn't do anything to change it, fix it either. Her cross to bear, her choice to make, her life to live and die, slipping through his fucking fingers in rivers of hot scarlet and the sort of misery he couldn't possibly describe with words. But it was there, aching, cutting away at heartstrings and settling heavily in the depths of his very soul, tearing him limb from limb without so much as any physical evidence. Not a mark, not a bite, not a scratch, not even a shitty minor blast of ice. Nothing, just her body held so tightly against his own, her voice so quiet, so broken he couldn't understand but hung on every bit. She was leaving him, and he couldn't even open his mouth.

Some man he was, that he couldn't protect her from this. Find another way. Save her from a stupid fucking death where she bleeds out in his lap, broken in more places than he had the heart to quantify - woe to a mass murderer, woe to a man who'd kill anything and anyone if it pleased him, woe to a villain who didn't deserve to be here, to be the one holding her like if he let her go that would well and truly be it. She'd be gone in a moment, those rich brown eyes fluttering despite how tightly he held them. He didn't...he didn't know what else to do but hover over her, gripping her, fingers twisting and slipping into her bloodied sides, teeth grinding, jaw aching, so much of him so ready to flip the switch and self-immolate.

Selfishly, so selfishly, he didn't want to be without her. She was everything to him. They were supposed to get married and have children together, something he never ever thought he could have. They were supposed to fuck in every room of the house, on every surface, in every way, like horny teenagers who met in high school. They were supposed to dance in the livingroom at three-in-the-morning when neither of them could sleep, pounding cups of coffee and whining about their exhaustion, commiserating, sharing kisses in the dark while the kids were still sleeping. They were supposed to go to the grocery store and pick out fucking tomatoes, argue over who gets to pay for lunch, go to the OBGYN together, holding hands and sobbing whence learning of their twins' genders. They were supposed to go on family vacations and take family photos and get their little slice of the Normal and Boring, their peace and serenity, when all was said and done and put to fucking bed. They weren't supposed to end, not like this, regardless of whatever she had to say about it. They weren't supposed to end.

He couldn't take it. He pulled her ever closer against him, something hot burning in his eyes only to morph into steam the second it was free of his lashline. Shouldn't have been able to emote like that at all, but maybe even his body had made more exceptions for her than he thought... How unfair it was, this, that he should lose her. That she should unravel him, leave him a gaping wound to bear the infection of grief and despair - temporarily or not.

"Sh-shhh, ma chiquita..." he stammered, maintaining his bedside manner as best he could - for her sake. Keeping himself normal, usual, calm, collected might give her comfort in her final moments - he had to try. For her. He had to. "E'erythin's awrigh', 'kay? Jus close yer eyes, 'm here. 'm right here. Yer doin' jus fine, baby. S'awright, s'awright. Sh, sh, sh..."

#☿ || Asks.#✘ // Lounie Tunes; Loni.#bedlamology #/ i'm going to throttle you em--

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toasecretsanta · 1 year

Text

To: @dreams-and-dreams from @colorsunlikeanythingseen

Prompt: Meg and Apollo road trip

We see a big fork/ I’m absolutely famished/ Turns out I bite too/

I do not get why mortals complain about road trips. There is nothing better than driving across the country, spending time with friends, and listening to music, podcasts, or whatever radio station you happen to find. It is better in the sun chariot of course but even so there is joy in the journey of our stolen truck. I have however learned to appreciate road stops more than I used to when I was a god I rarely saw the point in stopping.

“Turn left” Luckily I was reinterpret this particular order and turned my body left to face Meg instead of raming the car into the side of a building

“Meg watch your orders. I am not mad at you but you have to be more careful”.

“Right, sorry” Meg said and looked away, her face was like cement. Luckily that only lasted a block and she soon went back to examining her map and humming along to the radio.

“Go…We… um.. Please go right now.” I turned right wondering what destination or dead end I would find.

I turn the corner only to find more rows of downtown brick buildings. I will never understand Missouri’s apparent urge to make everything brick. It brought up bad memories of Athena’s lectures on city planning in Olympus. I barely had to make an effort to tune out those meetings. When buildings weren’t brick they were the same bland cookie cutter modern office space.

“Right. It’s right here” Meg suddenly said. I barely had time to turn right. I pulled into a building that managed to be a mix of both brick and modern glass office space. Perhaps Athena had a point about the decay of American architecture.

“Why are we here Meg.” I asked as she stumbled out of the car with the grace of a newly born gazelle.

“Fork.” She said pointing at the fork that looked like one of Utgard-Loki’s dropped dinner sets (Do not accept any of his invitations even if he is, funny, has really good poetry, and lovely eyes. He is simply a terrible host).

“Yes I see the fork. Why?”

With her usual eloquence Meg wandered off without a word in my direction. I suppose you can only expect demigods to stay still so long. I felt a bit wobbly as well, another downside of being mortal. I used to be able to drive all day with complete ease and now after only four hours driving I wanted a rest.

I found a bench to sit down on. It was once of those weird almost modern art ones with curves that might pass as handle bars if you squinted in the middle. The air was warm and you could feel the sun warming the earth. Perhaps it was Ra up there or Sol, or a giant ball of gas, at the moment the cosmos turning on without me brought more comfort than despair. Even if I fail things would continue my children would outlive me and the world would keep turning (a weird fact but not an unpleasant one).

Someone sat down next to me and it was not Meg. It seemed to be a business lady and I felt hungry just looking at her. I didn’t need to be the god of medicine to recognize the clear signs of extremely unhealthy weightloss. She was bone thin in the way only starving people could be, her once perfectly tailored business suit now sagged around her like loose skin. Despite the layers of her suit jacket, vest, and shirt I could count her ribs. She is literally only skin and bone.

“Hey are you alright?” I asked knowing the answer should not be yes. I would not be surprised if I had to call for an ambulance which would be a problem unless the Arrow of Dodonna could make phone calls as easily as they could access google maps.

“Yes… yes I am alright better than ever in fact. Thank you for asking, what is your name, young man.” She gave me a thin smile as she found something funny.

“Lester.” I searched my pockets for some sort of snack. Dried vegetables or meats would be preferred as she would be more likely to accept that of course anything is better than nothing.

“It is nice to meet you Lester. I am Limos, I work in one of the offices there. What are you doing here this is hardly a place you should be.” I found a packet of peanuts in my sweatshirt pocket.

“I am on a road trip with my little sister.” I was starting to feel hungry myself. Ugg road trip snacks are not filling. “That’s her”

She looked over towards where Meg was destroying the carefully cultivated patch of grass at the center of the roundabout. Limos was not as happy as I was at seeing her have fun.

“Well we can’t help who we are related to.” If looks could kill Meg would be dead but when she turned back to face me Limos was all smiles again. “What do you know about this monument.”

“Not much” I was increasingly tempted to dig into the peanuts myself.

“The fork used to be a sculpture in front of some restaurant. They went out of business and whatever company rents out this office space bought the world’s second largest fork.”

“Second?” I felt weak. The last time I felt this hungry was the last time I was mortal. It hadn’t quite sunk in then that food, sleep, and water were now mandatory for me. I was in such a rush to complete the wall of Troy I didn’t eat, sleep or drink for four days straight. Had I not maintained some measure of godly strength I would have died. I wasn’t at that level of hunger yet but something was wrong.

“Oh yes the new largest fork is located in Colorado. So not it is now just a large empty fork with nothing particularly special about it.”

I pulled out the peanuts poured half into my hands and offered the other half of the bag to Limos. “Here”

She looked like I had just offered her maggot infested meat. Far faster that she should be physically be capable of moving she threw the bag into the dirt and knocked the peanuts out of my hand.

“I never share. You should never give something for nothing! That destroys profits and drives me out of business” She snarled and for a moment resembled my father about to strike. However hunger was a force far more powerful than fear so I was more focused on the peanuts.

“My peanuts!” I stumbled off the bench and collapsed as if my legs were cooked spaghetti. My stomach growled like a cornered wolf ready to eat me alive.

“You aren’t human.” I should know exactly who and what she was but as usual that file was not found.

“Neither are you Apollo.” Limos said and in a parody of tender care helped me back onto the bench.

“Why are you trying to kill me.” I asked mostly to delay the inevitable. I remembered many many reasons monsters, gods, spirits, and humans might try to kill me and there were even more that I had forgot.

“I am not trying to kill you Lord Apollo. You might die but that wouldn’t be my fault.”

“Well that is a nice change. It really does not feel like you aren’t trying to kill me though” I rasped. Shooting pains ran through my stomach were it not for Limos’ tight grip on my hands I would have charged towards the roundabout and started eating grass or the peanuts scattered out of reach.

“It’s not worth getting on Artemis’s bad side besides you are going to die soon anyways hopefully after you deal with Python. It could be… inconvenient for us all if you die before then” She said is an even and uncaring tone like she was discussing the projected revenue of a new product and not whether I would live or die.

In a worrying turn of events I stopped feeling hungry as if my body gave up on receiving anything to eat. With this bit of renewed clarity I remembered that she was the very very very minor god of famine (duh), not someone I hung out with, and the natural enemy of Demeter and her children. She wasn’t here for me she was here for Meg, and I was a hostage.

She seemed to notice my look of despair, “Oh you finally caught on took you long enough.” Limos dragged me to my feet. I had to come up with a clever plan to warn Meg unfortunately nothing clever came to mind so I did the next best thing.

I shouted. “MEG. LIMOS IS FAMINE. DO NOT STEP OFF THE---”

I was rudely interrupted by Limos covering my mouth. Taking a page out of Megs book I bit her, hard. Despite the blood running down her hand Limos didn’t even flinch. Luckily her blood was red, like the triumvirate or my sister’s hunters. Limos’ power truly had faded over the millenia. If I wasn’t about to pass out and had my ukulele or any arrows, I could kill her! Maybe...

Meg unlike me was always ready to fight someone and was armed with ornamental vegetable seeds, snacks, and swords. With her typical grace she stated, “Give him back.”

“I will if you corporate with me. Lets have a talk just you and I this does not have to be ugly and no one needs to get hurt.”

Hopefully heading my warning Meg did not move closer. Limos stepped onto the road instead cementing my theory of her not quite having the range she once had “Your dear stepfather worries about you and had hired me to bring you home.” Limos lied.

“He- he isn’t my family. That’s not my home. I am not going back like that ever again.” Meg spoke in a rush like she was trying to fit decades of unspoken words into a sentence.

“I am sorry about your situation I truly am” Limos continued lying, “But I was hired for this job and I must fulfill it. I am sure we can reach a compromise.” I am sure she said elaborated more but I was rather distracted by a jagged knife of bone getting far too close to my throat.

Perhaps it was a sign of my current starving state of mind but my first thought was not, oh yikes I am going to die , instead I wondered it I could eat that bone. There was only one way to find out. In a move so stupid that Limos couldn’t predict it I stopped biting Limos’s and bit down on the knife instead. In case you are wondering, no it did not tase good. it tasted like my own blood and new mouth injuries because that is what happens when you bite jagged knives.

Luckily Meg took advantage of Limos’s distraction or perhaps someone drop kicked a pumpkin out of a nearby window. Either way Limos fell back and I stumbled forward. Meg supported me back to the grass and more importantly the pumpkins. They were better than any ambrosia and nectar I have ever had.

“That was quite rude of you. To think we could have done this the easy way. Now well- you have disrespected a god you both know the consequences of that.” My pumpkin withered and felt more hungry than ever after eating.

“How do we beat her.” Meg said still standing tall despite her new hunger. I tried to mimic her focus.

“Food, especially gardens, grow as much as you can. You are her natural enemy for a reason, she wants to kill you before you kill her, because this god can die.”

Meg nodded and scattered seeds across the grassy spot. Strawberries blossomed and burst into fruit, shoots of grass grew into golden grain, squashes sprouted. It was a paradise greater than Elysium. I gobbled up as much strawberries as I could. Meg munched on a cob of corn. We were safe for now, but I doubted that Meg could outlast a god. Limos reached the curb but did not step closer. I could see anger behind her smiling mask either at my words or the pumpkin staining her new suit jacket.

“Ridiculous I am immortal just like you once were Lester. You could never defeat let alone kill me. I just want to kill you because you are related to someone I can’t hurt yet.” Meg nodded at me as if to say keep talking. Finally I could do something I excelled at!

“That speech might have fooled me if I were a mortal but I am a very old god. I have witnessed the final moments of pantheons, I can see the signs of a gods death. Your domain is weakening-”

“NO it is not. Famine has never weakened in fact it has grown more than ever, tonight over 828 million people will go to bed hungry. My reach has not weakened and it never will.”

“Yes there are far too many people hungry, but they don't have to be. New farming practices are so effective that there is enough food to feed everyone.” I couldn’t tune out all of Demeter's rants on improved agricultural efficiency.

“And people would rather have it rot then share it. No one shares if it means that they might lose a few dollars.” Limos successfully was distracted arguing with me but Meg seemed to need even more time.

“Some are that greedy but not everyone. Besides that isn’t even your biggest problem I mean who know who Limos is? You name is practically forgotten. I haven’t seen a shrine for you in millennia and nothing is named after a famine god. That would be terrible branding.”

For a moment Limos’ mask of confidence cracked and either fear or anger leaked through. “Shut up.” A wave a hunger washed through me a but I simply helped myself to more strawberries. “Gods are always powered by a worshippers’ fear. Even if they don’t know my name anymore, anyone that has met me fears me and will never return to life the same. That is more powerful than any shrine.” Her resemblance to Zeus continued to grew and it wasn’t because they had the same taste in business suits.

“Fear only works for so long, Love lasts far longer, but nothing is remembered forever. Even Pan died and you are far weaker than him. How much time do you have before you die like everyone you killed? I have always wondered what a god’s afterlife would be like if we have one at all.”

Limos trembled probably out of anger. “You are going to learn that first.” Bone knives flew towards my neck and would have hit were it not for Meg and her ornamental vegetables. A wave of vegetation grew cracking the concrete. A peach tree grew around Limos trapping her.

As one Meg and I ran towards the truck. The ground trembling beneath us as the road was transformed into a new community garden. We did not buckle our seat belts, I stomped on the gas pedal, accelerated to illegal speeds and left Limos in the dust. Presumably. I did not turn around to check.

It took twenty miles before I felt safe enough to speak “That was terrible. We are never doing that again”

“Yeah, don’t get captured ever again.” Meg looked at me weirdly like I might die or vanish forever if she looked away again.

“I am not planning to. Want to find us a new rest stop?”

“Thought we were never doing that again?”

“We aren’t visiting any large forks again, but a ball of twine is still on the table if it is on the way too….”

I didn’t continue the weight of our task sat too heavily in my throat for moment, but I drove on each mile getting us closer to what would be the end of our journey one way or another. I would not mind another roadside attraction before things ended.

Facts

The statistics about word hunger is accurate as of my time of writing this. Source https://www.actionagainsthunger.org/the-hunger-crisis/world-hunger-facts/

The story of the world’s second largest fork is is accurate.

A lot of Missouri’s building are made of brick due to the brick mines as well as because brick is fire resistant. St. Louis is particular had a problem with fire due to how steamboats were prone to spontaneous combustion.

Brickwork can be beautiful if you are a bit creative but corporations are not creative.

There is a surprising amount of discourse about whether or not this is or isn't the largest fork. Missouri’s is the tallest but Colorado's is the largest from what I have seen. Main source https://417local.com/largest-fork-springfield-mo/

Meg and Apollo did fight a famine sprit at Springfield Missouri’s largest fork.

Limos is the greek god of famine.

We do have enough food to feed everyone on the planet. No one needs to starve.

#toasecretsanta #colorsunlikeanythingeverseen #dreams-and-dreams #pjo apollo #lester papadopoulos #meg mccaffrey #trials of apollo #toa #riordanverse #trials of apollo fanfiction #toa fanfiction #riordanverse fanfiction

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thepixelelf · 2 years

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Hi!!! For the drabble requests, how about the title of one of my wips that's basically abandoned but I come back to every so often to mourn and wish it was an actually viable idea: "a melody for you, who are hiding in the dark", with Sungyoon from Golden Child? Preferably non-romantic if you don't mind 💞 thank you!!

- second bee aka @hui-ing aka @camellia-bee

hi bee!!! I love this title sm and what I wrote isn't romance but also?? idk what it is lol. all I know is that it's a slight red riding hood au

[a melody for you, who are hiding in the dark] There is a creature who lives in the shadows of the Morrigan forest.

Sungyoon has not met the creature, not face to face, if it has one, but he thinks he knows its name. He weaves it into his songs, which he sings as he walks down the barely-trodden path that leads to his home.

The Morrigan is a dangerous place -- a forest more alive than it should be. It hums with activity, easily heard at night for miles while the humans sleep. And yet, it has been long since Sungyoon felt scared travelling through the Morrigan's obsidian trunks and emerald leaves. His mother still despairs him going to visit his grandmother; she fears he will get lost, or worse. However, her own mother's ailing health has left her at odds, and she leaves a sweet kiss on Sungyoon's forehead every time he leaves for the short journey.

His grandmother refuses to leave her little cottage in the Morrigan. Sungyoon has never asked why. Though, he thinks he might know now.

You've never shown your face, or revealed your voice, but you protect him.

He thinks you must do the same for his grandmother, whose home in the middle of a forest that lives and breathes and kills stands just as it did when she and her husband built it all those years ago.

He thinks you do not have to follow him in order to protect him. You are not just a singular presence -- at times he'll sense you all around him, as everything, at once. He feels safe even when your presence is not nearby.

You are the forest.

Or, at least, a part of it.

But despite not having to be close by to protect him, he's found that you will drift along if he sings. Tonight, as the sun sinks in the sky and casts long shadows along the footpath, Sungyoon hums a tune he learned the other day. He wants to impress you, though he hardly understands that want.

"It's beautiful," he imagines you saying, whatever you are. "I haven't heard such a melody in ages."

He sings all the way home.

#golden child scenarios #golden child imagines #choi sungyoon scenarios #choi sungyoon imagines #sungyoon scenarios #sungyoon imagines #golcha scenarios #golcha imagines #gncd scenarios #gncd imagines #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

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bardandbear · 9 months

Text

So I wanted to yell a little into the void about my Tav's backstory...

Black sheep doesn't begin to cover it. I'm the deformed, malshapen aberration on the otherwise perfect family tree. It's a wonder they didn't take me out back and put me out of my misery. It would have been kinder. They don't do kindness.

Born in Neverwinter in 1460 DR, Morgwynn is the second eldest child of Gahelion Belaine - a high elf wizard - and Sorene Belaine - a half drow, half tiefling sorcerer. The Belaine family is an old, elven bloodline obsessed with one thing: magic. Gahelion married Sorene out of an admiration for her sorcerous bloodline, something he was desperate to pass on to his children to outdo his own siblings.

The couple were overjoyed in fact, to have born a tiefling child from Sorene's lineage, until it quickly became apparent that Morgwynn seemed to lack any innate magical talent beyond her infernal cantrips. Her older brother Galamor was showing his magical aptitude before he could walk, and it was a hope that her magicks would eventually manifest themselves that saved her from the worst of the disdain in her younger years.

Once it became apparent that magic did not flow in her veins however, the coldness became outright resentment. She was treated poorly by her parents and siblings both, even the youngest being taught their parents' cruelty without understanding it. Denied food, water, clean clothes and human contact, Morgwynn tried desperately for years to earn the approval of her parents before bitterness and despair set in.

After lashing out more and more in her teen years despite the futility of it, Morgwynn gets sent far away from the family estate to Baldur's Gate where she is enrolled and promptly fails at wizard college, before being sent to bard college as a last resort. While she's better at it: the charming, the talking, the politics, she still can't spin a tune or capture the magic of song whatsoever, and it's largely pity and sweet talking that keeps her from failing her last chance.

She does make 'friends' however, and gets drunk on the attention she'd been starved of, no matter where it came from. Falling into every indulgence of the flesh and alcohol that she can get her hands on, she eventually happens upon a succubus while out with friends and becomes obsessed with the power and confidence she exudes - she's everything Morgwynn isn't. After months of trying to impress her she eventually offers the succubus a deal - her soul's eternal service in exchange for warlock powers and a night of passion.

The plan is flawless, for a time. Morgwynn can finally call upon the magic that had never answered her, and the gnawing pit of emptiness inside her is quieter. But it comes crashing down when the bard college finds out she's cheating by using warlock magic, and she's expelled. She is disowned by her family in the same day, and left to drift - even after selling her soul she's still not enough. She spent a decade buried in bad relationships and liquor to try and feel anything, and probably would have died that way if she hadn't been plucked for a mindflayer's experiment.

The oblivion of ceremorphosis wasn't something that Morgwynn necessarily feared, she almost welcomed it, but she'd always been too stubborn to surrender quietly. So instead, she does what she's always done best: survive out of spite.

#morgwynn #bg3 tav #bg3 oc #she's a genuinely broken person dealing with things in the worst way possible #shortly after this she discovers murder and it's all downhill from there #trying to fill the emptiness with power and magic and sex and violence and always finding it isn't enough #truly a terrifying prospect for her enemies because she doesn't want power for anything ambitious #she doesn't have grand plans #she just wants to feel better #or feel anything

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a-case-of-attachment · 9 months

Text

Rating: E 18+

Parings: Jaskier x Geralt

Warnings: blood ~ violence ~ murderer ~ character death ~ no happy ending ~ monster Jaskier

<- The Lover

Geralt slowly trudged along the rocky path that lead up the side of the cliff, his booted feet slipping slightly on the damp stone and a sense of dread sitting heavy in his stomach. The moon was high in the sky, the clouds having parted so its pale rays could light his way. Below him dark waves crashed against the shore, foaming and angry as they churned almost as if answering the call of the melancholy singing that seemed to be carried on the cool wind that whipped around him.

That was why he was here.

A rusalka of sorts was haunting the village below, luring towns folk to the top of the cliffs with its gentle song filled with sadness and longing. It called to them, everything else falling to the wayside as they answered its desperate pleads for them to help put an end to its heartbreak, its suffering. Even he could feel it, his chest tightening as the sorrow filled words tried to pull him closer, tried to make him feel the despair and longing that it felt. Geralt was a Witcher though, the magic rolling through him but unable to take hold of his mind and heart.

The villagers were not so lucky.

Many a man and women had been lured to the cliffs in the dead of night, that eerie and captivating voice drawing them in and in a way they went willingly, wanting to help ease the suffering of the spectre but once morning came they all ended up dead and broken at the bottom of the cliffs, splayed across the rocks and a sad smile on their lips.

Once every month this happened, when the moon was at its fullest. The song would come, the spectre calling to all who would listen and the villagers lived in fear of what lurked on the cliffs edge. A fear that had gripped the people and made them desperate, sending word for a Witcher’s help.

Twenty five villagers had already meet this fate, twenty five people who had been bewitched and lead to their demise. It’s why he was here, to kill the rusalka and set the living free. He hunted monsters, killed the dark and twisted creatures that prayed on man. It was his job, his duty but just this once Geralt wished that it was not the one who had answered the call.

The path evened out, the wind picking up and the singing getting louder. The voice sung of a love lost, a life taken and a longing to be set free. It sung of despair and heartache and hope that one day all its suffering would come to an end. The melancholy tune sunk deep into Geralt’s chest, piercing at his heart as he strode towards the lone figure who stood at the cliffs edge, facing out towards the sea.

His body felt heavy as he came to a stop, the wind cold and seeping through his clothes. He had no armour on, just a thin chemise and his leather trousers, his silver sword clutched tightly in one hand. He would not come here as a Witcher, a slayer of monsters. No, here he stood as nothing more than a man faced with his greatest regret, his worse failure. “Jaskier,” he growled out lowly, the word almost hidden by the howl of the wind.

The singing stopped.

The bard turned ever so slight, looking over his shoulder with a gentle smile. His blue eyes shone unnaturally in the dark of night, his pail skin glowing like moonlight as the wind whipped his soft looking locks around his face. He was bare foot in the short grass, his chemise untucked from the soft blue breeches he wore and billowing in the wind. He looked like temptation, an other worldly glow about him that drew people in. As mesmerised by his beauty as they were by his voice. Suddenly Geralt could understand why so many people had gone to him, gladly accepting their end if it meant bringing some form of happiness to the vision before him.

The Path was dangerous and Geralt had always said that if Jaskier wasn’t careful a monster would get him but he had never imagined this. Had never thought that Jaskier would become one of the monsters Geralt hunted.

“I had hoped it would be you,” he said softly, his lips hardly moving but Geralt heard them like the bard had whispered them into his ear. His smile softened, a sad resignation in his eyes that had Geralt tightening his hold on his sword and gritting his jaw. Blue eyes flickered down to the blade, Jaskier humming softly before turning back to look over the sea. He started to sing again, his voice blending in with the wind and waves and Geralt felt his heart clench.

He didn’t want to do this.

“What happened?” Jaskier turned back to him, song fading and that stupid smile still on his lips. It had been years since Geralt had seen that smile, years since he had last seen the bard on that forsaken mountain and he had hoped that one day he would be lucky enough to see it again but not like this. Never like this. “The same thing that always happens Geralt”.

Geralt knew how these things came to be, as did Jaskier. They had seen it a couple of times before over the years and each time it broke Jaskier’s heart to learn how wicked and vicious the people that were meant to love you could truly be. Jaskier had learnt that lesson for himself, first from Geralt and his cruel treatment and then by whoever was responsible for his current state because Geralt knew that someone had done this to Jaskier. Despite whatever heartbreak or misfortune had befallen him Geralt knew that Jaskier would not take his own life and if by some twist of fate he had it would not be by flinging himself of a cliffs edge to drown in the sea below. No Geralt knew that someone had pushed the bard to his death and for him to be here like this Geralt could guess it was at the hands of a jilted lover.

Geralt had not bothered to go looking for him, convincing himself that after he had turned the bard away Jaskier had simply found a court to take up residence in and spent his days living in the lap of luxury like he deserved and that’s why he hadn’t heard even a whisper of him. Geralt had told himself this time and time again to help ease his own guilt and unease he had felt, telling himself that Jaskier was better off without him but he had been wrong.

This was his doing.

“Where’s the body?” The question made bile rise up his throat, the need to empty his stomach grate but Geralt pushed it down. He needed to be strong here, for both their sakes. Jaskier knew what was coming, knew why Geralt was here but he didn’t want to make things worse for his friend. Geralt didn’t want him to suffer more than he already had. Jaskier didn’t answer though, his singing continuing and it took all Geralt had not to collapse to the dirt and scream.

Stalking forward he gripped at Jaskier’s arm, yanking him back and round to face him as he growled out his demand, “your body Jaskier, where is it?” He wanted to do this the easy way, the peaceful way. To cover the bards’ body with salt and sage, setting fire to it and setting his spirit free before he buried him properly, like the man deserved. Though this was where Jaskier had met his end it was still a good spot to put a grave. Geralt thought the bard would appreciate a final resting place like this. It had a good view, was sheltered enough that he wouldn’t get to cold and had a rock he could perch on to play his lute, that might even by why Jaskier had been up here to start with.

But life was never easy for a Witcher and destiny wished for him to suffer one last time.

Jaskier smiled so soft and loving, a pail hand coming up to cup at Geralt’s cheek. He was so cold, like ice pressing against his skin. Jaskier had never been that way before, had always been so warm and soft in Geralt’s hold. It felt wrong, he felt wrong. Jaskier should be sunshine and warmth not moonlight and ice. Everything was so fucking wrong and Geralt couldn’t fix it. Not this time.

“Gone my wolf, washed out to sea many a moon ago”. Geralt clenched his jaw, knuckles turning white as his grip tightened on his sword once more. Witcher’s couldn’t cry but Geralt wished that he could in that moment. He wished that tears would fall and his body would shake with his sobs. “Hush now dear Witcher,” Jaskier soothed, his voice gentle and light as he brushed a cold thumb along his cheek just under his eye, as if he was swiping away tears but there were no tears and there never would be. Jaskier’s other hand slid down Geralt’s arm, gentle and cold until it settled around the hand that gripped so tightly at his sword. “It must be this way”.

Geralt wanted to scream, to refuse, to promise to find another way. It shouldn’t be this way, never was it supposed to end this way. Jaskier was supposed to grow old, to go back to his home and marry a lovely young women and churn out kids. He was supposed to have a life, to live. He wasn’t supposed to end up this way.

There was no other way now though, no other path to take other than this and if Geralt turned his back now another innocent would die. The village would empty and Jaskier would be forever bound to this spot, singing for a life lost and a love abandoned until another Witcher came and set him free. Geralt had abandoned him once before, he would not do so again. He owed Jaskier that much, to grant him an as quick and painless end as he could. Geralt could give him that.

Pulling in a shaking breath Geralt cupped Jaskier’s neck with his free hand, his callused thumb rubbing at his jaw. There was no heart beat beneath his palm, no racing pulse, no sign of life but why would there be. Jaskier had died a long time ago, his life stolen and his soul twisted into this tormented creature before him.

He pulled Jaskier forward, resting their foreheads together as he just stared into too bright blue eyes. He had always liked Jaskier’s eyes, liked how open and honest they were. There were a lot of things about Jaskier Geralt had liked but never once had he told him so. He had been afraid of his own emotions, scared to admit how he truly felt and now he would never have the chance to change that.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt whispered. Those two little words encompassed a lot of things. He had so much to be sorry for when it came to Jaskier, so many ways he had done wrong by the other man. It wasn’t enough, even if he had eons to beg for forgiveness it would never be enough. Jaskier had deserved so much more than to end up this way and it was all Geralt’s fault. “I know” Jaskier whispered back.

Jaskier started to sing again, his voice soft and full of longing as he took a step back towards the edge of the cliff. Geralt went with him willingly, keeping him close and desperate to keep hold of the other man for as long as he could. “Follow dear heart I’ll show thee the way, through all the pain and the sorrows. Weep not poor heart for life is this way, murdering beauty and passions”.

Geralt felt the rush of air, the edge of the cliff upon him and he dug his heels in, the two of them coming to a stop before they could walk off the edge. “Come now dear heart I’ll take thee away, into a land of enchantment”. Jaskier tugged on Geralt’s arm gently, trying to urge him forward and take that last step into oblivion. His song filled Geralt with longing, a desire to give Jaskier what he asked for and take that next step with him, to be with him forever more.

He leant forward, pressing his lips against Jaskier’s cold ones in a gentle kiss. Jaskier kissed back just as softly, their lips moving together slowly as they shared their last kiss. Geralt’s grip tightened on his sword, his arm pulling back as he lifted the blade. Jaskier hummed into the kiss, that same tune that he had been working on for years now and Geralt had once found comfort in. A pain bloomed in Geralt’s chest, his heart aching and longing for a simpler time, when Jaskier and he had been happy together and content to travel to continent looking for monsters and coin. A time before Yennefer, before the mountain and the dragon hunt, a time before Geralt had lashed out at the only person who had loved him and signed his death warrant.

Geralt tipped the blade up and as he pressed his lips harder against Jaskier’s he thrust his sword forward, driving it into Jaskier’s stomach and up behind his ribs.

Jaskier made a gurgled wet little whine, pulling back enough to look at Geralt in the eyes. He still had that soft little smile on his lips, eyes shinning in love and Geralt wanted once again to cry. How could he look at him in such a way? How could he still love him after everything Geralt had done to him? He felt like a blade of ice had been shoved into his chest, the edges jagged as it twisted into his heart and ripped it to shreds.

Geralt could feel Jaskier’s blood dripping down the hilt of his sword and hand, the liquid as cold as Jaskier had been.

Jaskier tipped his head forward slightly, too blue eyes locking with Geralt’s and holding him captive in his gaze, “hush now dear heart”. Geralt didn’t even realise he had been shaking until Jaskier’s cold grasp tightened on his hand and slowly pulled it back. The sword made a horrid noise as it slipped free of the bard, steel scraping against bone and blood squelching, the smell of death and blood filling the air but just underneath he caught the scent of camomile oil and ink, the smell of home.

Jaskier gently brushed his finger along Geralt’s cheek once more, his hand even colder now than it had been before. “Be free my love,” he whispered with a smile as he stepped back, Geralt’s fingers brushing against him as he slipped free of his grasp. The wind whipped around them as Jaskier fell back, arms wide and still smiling as his body disappeared into the darkness that lay beneath them.

The waves crashed against the shore, the wind howled and Jaskier was gone.

Geralt’s knees gave out, his bones aching as he sunk to the ground, his arms laid either side of him. His grip went slack, his sword held loosely in his grasp as he stared out across the darkness to the sea that stretched off into the unknown. He stayed there, unmoving and silent until the first rays of light broke across the horizon, his chest feeling like it had been cleaved in two.

Body stiff and heart aching Geralt pushed up onto his feet.

He worked in silence, using his sword to cut down one of the trees that grew at the back of the small plateau. It didn’t take him long to fashion a cross, weaving the thin and flexible branches together and ripping of strips of his shirt to bind the two parts together. He drove the marker into the ground, half hidden under the trees and facing out to the cliffs edge. He forced the cross as deep as he could to make sure it would stay in place if a storm should role in. He didn’t think twice about lifting his medallion from around his neck and hanging it on the cross. He couldn’t give Jaskier the burial he deserved but he could at least mark the place where his life had been taken from him.

He whispered a small prayer, wishing Jaskier’s spirt on be he turned, heading back to the path he had climbed the night before and leaving the make shift grave behind. He did not look back, barely stopped as he strode past the towns folk, ignoring there questions and offers of payment as he swung up onto Roach and headed onward. He felt hollow, empty and he knew he had left a piece of himself up on that cliff that was now lost to him forever.

He didn’t stop. Just kept moving forward until Roach could go no more and he had no choice but to make camp so she could rest. He lead in the dirt, bedroll forgotten and no fire to keep him warm, just watching the sky change from day to night then back again. It took him eight days to crawl to the river and wash the other man’s blood off his hands but he knew no matter how hard he scrubbed it would always be there, a never ending memory of what he had done. Of the life he had taken.

Jaskier had told him to be free but Geralt would never be free, not from this. Jaskier would haunt him until his own life came to an end, with him forever and always.

Just like he had wanted.

#jaskier #dandelion #geralt #geralt of rivera #geraskier #netflix the witcher #the witcher #the witcher tv #geralt x dandelion #geralt x jaskier

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marshmallowprotection · 2 years

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Honestly seeing people online buzz about the song “Iris” by the Goo goo dolls is so crazy to me as it’s such an old old favorite of mine. So how about it for SE? I want to send it to him to listen to, and on the timeline for your fic “Iris” I think it would fit even more beautifully.

Saeran can say with the utmost certainty that you mean something to him. It’s not been easy for him throughout his life, but the one good thing that he had in his heart came from you. You were the one that stood by him when he had the world out to get him. You stood there and fought by his side even if there were things that you didn’t believe in. You believed in him, and that was more to him than anything else. He didn’t have anything back then, but you stood by him in that moment when nobody else would.

That was why he valued your life, even in his despair and confusion, and why he locked you away when he did. Even if the world crumbled and he failed, he had one thing on his mind for certain. You would be protected and you would live the life you deserved.

That’s all he thought he stashed you away, erased whatever information the cult had on you, and left you to be found by the RFA if he lost his battle. He did lose, but you were saved.

He never thought he’d see you again after that.

He had resided himself to the reality that you would live a happy life, but it was a life that he would never be able to share with you. A painful reality, but one that a man like him had accepted time and time again. Yet, despite everything that he’d gone through, you had found him again and now he was with you. He could live a life without hiding himself in the shadows and it was all thanks to you by proxy, he supposed.

You made him want to fight back against those that hurt him, and because he cared about you, he found the will to work with Saeyoung and make things as right as rain. You didn’t change him, but you made him want to be better in many ways. You inspired him to try... even if trying was the hardest thing that he’d ever done. He wanted to live without looking over his shoulder... and now he could, it was a reality he didn’t want to take for granted.

He would never forget the days spent in isolation that came before this. He was a lucky bastard.

That’s why he didn’t want to lose you after every chance he failed before in the past. He wanted you close... even if he couldn’t always admit it. Life was hard to navigate but the one thing that wasn’t hard was loving you. He loved you, and it wasn’t something he had to say for you to understand. You knew when he had a single look on his face that he wanted to say it. You wouldn’t rush him, you gave him all the time to process his desires.

That’s why moments like this were worthwhile, when you were curled against his chest, eyes closed, the feeling of the breeze tickling your cheek. He had the two of you laid back underneath a shady tree, nothing but the leaves and greens to keep the sun out of your face, and the perfect clouds to remind you that he was alive and free. You were sharing your headphones with him, one bud connected to his ear and the other to yours.

He didn’t know much about music.

Yet, he was compelled whenever you perked up or reacted to a song. This time, it was his reaction that perked his interest. The familiar tune sounded like one of the songs that you listened to when you were alone, but he didn’t know what the words were. As he listened to the singer proclaim how much they would give for their love, he lifted your phone to check the title of the track.

He snorted, a soft sound that wouldn’t have caught your attention, since you’d almost fallen asleep by him. You’d managed to find a song called Iris, the same nickname that he had given to you back at Mint Eye. He would give up every bit of life in his lungs for you, he knew that much. The world didn’t need to know his love for you, it was meant for you and him to keep close. Nobody understood his way of thinking, but you did.

You knew who he was.

He didn’t have to beg for you to understand him.

You always knew who he was.

“Thanks, Iris,” he muttered.

#se saeran #suspiciouslybluemilktea #ask #mystic messenger #mm #mysme #mysticmessenger #saeran #saeran choi #choi saeran #mystic messenger saeran #mm saeran #mysme saeran #saeran mm #saeran mysme #saeran mystic messenger #mod kait #iris

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dreams-and-dreams · 1 year

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Secret Santa (just want to make sure you got it)

Prompt Meg and Apollo road trip