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snoozepotato · 1 year

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We’ll Be Fine -14- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

she/her pronouns + female anatomy

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, swearing, eye contact, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex, over-stimulation, multi-orgasm, creampie, soft Ghost, anxiety, scars, tattoos, fluff

Masterlist

Summary: Ghost shows up at your room late at night, he just got back and has been gone longer than expected. You missed him a lot and things get out of hand (≖ᴗ≖)

Part 14

~UNDONE~

You’ve been trying your best to keep the negative thoughts at bay, it's not abnormal for missions to take longer than expected. But Ghost's vague estimate of a few weeks left you unsettled, even more so as time started to pass. A few weeks had turned into a few months, as life slogged by on base around you. Keeping yourself weighed down with busy work while your mind drifts.

Things take time, hell, you know that from experience. Even so, you’ve been worried about him, it's started affecting your already inconsistent sleep schedule. And dammit, you missed having tea with him in the morning!

You'd been brooding in your room since completing your work for the day, curled up in bed wearing Ghost’s hoodie. You're thankful he never asked for it back, in moments like these it was one of the only things that kept you grounded. Snuggling into the garment and taking a deep breath. It's been a while but somehow his scent still lingers in the fabric, or maybe it’s just some wishful thinking on your part.

Fuck, you're a wreck…

A sudden knocking on your door startles you from your position on the bed. Staring perplexed, why would someone be here this late? There's a sudden spark of fear that shoots through you, with the odd hour, what if it's bad news? You're frozen there for a moment, feet dangling off the edge of the mattress. Anxiety sitting cold in your gut as you just stare blankly through the darkness.

Until another knock erupts from the other side of the barrier, louder this time. You spring from the bed, the fear overtaken by curiosity. Whoever it is better have a good reason for waking you… Well, you technically weren't asleep, but you should be. You hastily unlock the door to peek your head out, only to be greeted by a broad chest.

There in your doorway, looking a little worse for wear is Ghost.

You're struck by the view of him standing there clad in that worn mask with the skull face plate. You've seen him wearing it on more than a few occasions, usually when he's on his way off base for work. It's rather intimidating, you're sure it serves its purpose out in the field. But if you're being completely honest, it's always left you feeling a little heated.

“You’re home,” dazed words escape you, feeling foolish at your choice of phrasing.

“Did I wake you?” He's grasping the door frame with a gloved hand, peering down at you with mild concern. Did he strip his gear off and immediately come looking for you? When did he even get back?

“No, I couldn't sleep… You can sit down,” you mutter, turning on the light and motioning him in. Taking one last glance out into the vacant hallway before closing the entry after him. Leaving you alone in the quiet of your room with Ghost, who's stripped off his jacket and taken a seat at your desk chair. Your frazzled mind is racing while you try to keep your rapidly slipping composure. The space grows quieter by the moment as he sits there staring at the ground between you.

“Everything ok?” You ask, but his mind is somewhere else, “Simon?” Stepping forward you stand in front of his seated form. The sound of his name coaxes his gaze up to meet yours, and fire erupts in his dark eyes.

“I’m fine,” he mutters.

“I was worried about you,” the words fumble from your lips as you take another step forward to stand between his widened legs.

“That why you're moping about your room… In my clothes?” He's smirking beneath the fabric of the mask, very obviously taking in your form before him. You can’t help but feel naked under his heavy gaze despite the oversized garment.

Observing wordlessly as he removes his gloves, and rests a now bare appendage at the hem of the sweatshirt. Your eyes are locked, as he searches for any sign of hesitation. Caressing the delicate skin of your thigh before trailing up to halt at the waistband of your shorts. Heartbeat hammering away in your chest as he dips a finger beneath the thin fabric. Dragging it down till the garment slips, pooling at your feet. A shaky breath escapes you as his lingering touch skims back up your leg to rest on your bare hip.

“Nothin' under those, you waiting up for me?” He murmurs darkly, eyes burning into yours.

“I missed you,” the words slip out as he lazily pulls you down to settle into his lap without resistance.

You reach out to caress the side of his face, thumb brushing over the rigid material of the weathered mask. He's watching you, curiously eyes meeting yours. Embarrassment creeps in as he catches your dreamy stare. Looking away with blushed cheeks and shifting restlessly.

“You seem to like this one,” he coaxes, tugging you further against him, putting an end to your weak attempt at retreat.

“I never said that,” you mutter defensively, caught off guard by his accusation, not that it wasn’t true…

“Don’t have to, I've caught you staring at me,” he pauses, “guess I never thought that was why.”

The dry words only further your embarrassment, as your head slumps against his shoulder to hide your feverish complexion.

Suddenly you’re hoisted upwards, choking down a shaky breath as the stiffness of him presses against you. Your legs braced around him as he makes his way over to your bed, lowering you onto the cot and caging you beneath him. As your body sinks into the thin mattress pad your mind is suddenly plagued with doubt, insecurity sparking in your chest.

“You're sure?… You were gone a while” you murmur awkwardly, propping yourself onto your elbows as you peer up at his looming figure.

“I’ve been waiting so patiently, love,” his words drip with desperate sincerity, that fire smoldering in his eyes as he descends upon you.

His hands work their way up your sides to snake beneath the material of the sweatshirt. Pulling the garment over your head and tossing it onto your desk chair. Your bare state would have felt unjust if his own shirt hadn't followed suit immediately after.

Leaving you laying there trying not to gawk, while nimble hands make quick work of his belt. Freeing the beast that's clearly trapped within the confines of his pants. To say the scale was daunting would be an understatement, but lying there beneath his toned figure, you were more than willing to accommodate.

“You ready for me?” He drawls, stroking his hard cock as he gazes down at your exposed form, like he's about to devour you.

“I’m all yours,” you coo as he brushes your entrance. Slowly teasing his head in and out of your already dripping slit, taking care to drag across your needy flesh till your thighs are twitching with building anticipation. A tightly coiled spring ready to burst, trembling and desperate for more.

The impatience quickly takes hold, hooking your knee over his hip to pull him deeper into you as he hisses out a curse. Consumed by the satisfying pleasure of being filled to the brim, his name uttered as a breathy sigh escaping your lips. Glazed eyes half-lidded as he admires your blissed expression, all for him.

“Fuck, you're tight” he rasps, the pressure building as your release begins to spill over. Gripping your knee, he pushes your leg up to split you open for his greedy length.

Gasping out in desperation, you arch to meet the friction of his rhythmic thrusts. Chasing that perfect angle, body tensing as you pulse with crackling pleasure. Riding out your orgasm all the while swimming in his murky gaze. The feeling of unraveling in his hands, fallen apart and at his mercy.

It's overwhelming.

Catching notice of your unrest, his pace slows as you try to catch your breath. But your eyes are downcast, suddenly afraid to meet his stare.

Icy doubt licking at your chest.

“Keep your eyes on me love,” hushed words murmured against your ear. You suck in a sharp breath, swallowing down a whimper as his heat leaves you. He grasps your chin with a firm hand, forcing you to meet his sharp gaze. Expecting to face the reaper, only to catch sight of his bare stumbled jaw. Your eyes lock for a long moment, the mask is gone. You're left gaping at him, eyes wide and startled.

“You alright?” His words are short, concern sparking in his stare.

You're so used to anonymity, it's easy to never see someone's face when you're sitting behind a computer all day. There was always that sliver of secrecy with Ghost until this moment, and it had always felt normal. Even so, it's still his eyes that draw you in, his trust in you is so blatant now. Every ounce of anonymity was stripped away, Simon caging you beneath him.

“I’m good,” you mutter through a sigh, leaning into his touch as his hold relaxes to caress your flushed face. His tense features unwinding at the view of you smiling up at him.

“Bend over for me love, I want to look at you, all of you,” he murmurs, your eyes held in his tender gaze.

Pulling you from your lying position, to bend you over the bed before him. Anxiety creeping in again as he admires your form from behind, feeling utterly vulnerable under his heavy gaze. But this heat washes over you, like he’s engulfed you in the fire smoldering in his eyes.

“Pretty little thing,” he breathes, running a hand down the length of your back, thumb tracing along the curve of your spine. He can feel the scars that lie beneath the white of your tattoo, a reminder of where you've been, how you got to him.

“Look how easy you’ve come undone for me,” he teases, an evident smirk in his tone.

Your back arches as he drags the head of his cock over your already sensitive flesh. Entering you again from your position bent over the bed. Your leg lowers to the floor to retain your balance as he presses deeply into your soaked folds. Simon letting out a low grumble of a moan as he thrusts to bury himself completely within you.

“Fuck, you're so wet,” he groans.

A strained wine escapes your lips at the friction, vision losing its focus momentarily. Craning your head to the side, catching his dark stare out of the corner of your sight.

“Your eyes… Do something to me,” you gasp breathlessly, your heated words gripping him as he continues relentlessly thrusting into you.

“Sensitive,” you sputter, bucking against him as the walls of your heat twitch with building pressure. Rough hands pulling you by the waist to meet his pounding length.

“Good,” he pants, “let go for me.”

Snaking a hand around you to rest the pad of his finger on your swollen clit. The action alone causes your hips to spasm involuntarily from overstimulation. Trembling wrists nearly give way as he circles the tender flesh.

Biting back a gasp as you're pushed over the edge again, your walls clenching around him as another orgasm rolls through you. His large hand cradles your breast, arching your back further as his thrusts grow frantic, cock pulsing as your heat spasm.

“Fuck,” he rasps, groaning as he jerks stiffly within you. Release spilling over, your body pressed against him, his breath hot in your ear. You shudder as his cock throbs, filling you with warmth, and you're unable to suppress the soft moan that escapes your lips.

His fingers curl into your side as he buries his face into your shoulder, thrusting sharply into you once more, completely drained.

You knew he'd eventually have to leave, but you couldn't help but drift off to sleep nestled against him. Simon's back to the door as he gazes down at you, keeping watch over your resting form.

The mask has returned when you wake sometime later, to a hand brushing the stray hair from your face. He murmurs something but you don't quite catch it through the haze of your slumber. In your foggy state, you completely miss him nabbing the mug off your desk before heading out the door.

The sound fully rips you from your stupor as you sit up in your cold bed, realizing you're once again alone in your room. You contemplate letting sleep take hold, but instead get up to re-clothe yourself in the sweatshirt he'd discarded on the chair. You feel kinda pathetic laying there sulking again in his absence, missing the furnace of a man in your bed...

But your thoughts are halted by a firm knocking on the door. Before you can second-guess yourself, you're already yanking the entry open. And there he is standing outside your door again, but now holding two cups of tea. Changed out of his dirty clothes from earlier, but still wearing that mask…

What a fucking tease.

“Told you I'd right be back,” he states plainly, making his way back into the small space and taking a seat at your desk.

Watching amused as you settle back onto your bed. It's quiet as you sip your tea, mask left discarded on your pillow. His short-cropped hair lay disheveled, pressed against his head from the long hours of wear. Calling your name softly, he looks so tired but there's this levity in his eyes.

You might have made a lot of mistakes in life, but meeting Simon Riley wasn't one of them. Looking at you with that tender gaze, it felt like home. Somewhere to return after the horrors of the world take their toll, hands to guide each other through the darkness.

WELL then, I hope you enjoyed (′ꈍᴗꈍ‵)

Thank you so very much for reading, this is all I have planned for this section of their story. I've got a few related fics/oneshots mulling in my brain so be on the lookout for those and more art!

@tallrock35 @violet-19999 @hypernovaxx @k4marina @sebsbee @d4z01 @ramadiiiisme @embers-of-alluring @enfppixie

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elliewilliamsblunt · 1 month

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𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖘

𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨!!: 𝙃𝙞, 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙄’𝙢 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙧. 𝙎𝙤 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙮 𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙨…𝙄 𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙩?! 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 an idea. 𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚? 𝙄 𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙨? 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙘𝙪𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙎𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚, 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩. 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙤𝙘𝙪𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙙, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙞𝙩. 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 (𝙩𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙤) 𝙀𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙚’𝙨 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛. (𝘽𝙏𝙒 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩, 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙀𝙇𝙇𝙄𝙀 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙖𝙣-𝙁𝙄𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 𝙨𝙤 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚..𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙚) 𝙄 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙤𝙘𝙪𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝘿𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙚𝙨. 𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙄 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮'𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮 𝙞𝙩!! 𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙚𝙝? 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙩. :) slow beginning based of tlou 2 subway chapter (minor changes)

TW: self-image issues(briefly), dependency

⋆ ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆

Fuck Seattle…

Two words whispered incessantly beneath you and your lover's breath. With each step toward the inevitable act of killing Abby…

Abby fucking Anderson.

As long as the blonde was alive there was no stopping Ellie’s relentless spirit. No matter how tired…how dirty…how starved…bloody and beaten you two were.

There was no stopping

With no question as to how violent…or disgustingly brutal your path to her was.

It was a never ending spiral to avenge Joel…

It had to be done. It’s what you wanted…what Ellie wanted…

It had to be done.

⋆ ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆

Some things are indelible, whether it's the sudden end of your cherished comic series or the painful breakup between you and a beloved.

Yet, those fleeting moments remain etched in Ellie's memory, unfathomable and unforgettable.

His cries in agony….his everlasting silence….

Those minutes haunt her thoughts relentlessly—in quiet pauses….between meals…amidst the faint aroma of coffee…the sound of guitar…or even during restless nights that would end in puffy eyes and sun-kissed skin, when dawn would great her once more. He lingered everywhere even if he wasn't there…

He was hers, a presence that shaped her life beyond her fourteen, offering her the opportunity to mature among those she came to cherish—and who cherished her in return. He was the closest thing she had to family …after her mother…Riley…..Marlene….

Just when she thought someone would actually stay in her life, someone had to force him from her grasp.

Like a child clutching a mere teddy bear...

The worst part of it was she couldn't remember his face…just the stillness of his corpse.….

Puffy eyes….a pounding head…hitched breaths….

She woke from her brief unconsciousness…her dialted eyes returning to him….

Dusty windows now streaked with speckles of his blood, his motionless body a stark contrast, hands clenched tightly in futile attempt to quell the pain he bore during her assault.….

His skull, fractured from the blow of the club, revealed the pinkish hue of exposed brain beneath his weathered visage.

Her emerald eyes widened in disbelief, tears mingling with mucus as they streamed down her face, tracing paths over her busted lip.

Refusal flooded her vision as she shook her head gently choking up on her cries. “J-Joel….” she hiccuped struggling against the overwhelming tide of emotions drowning her.

Mind fogged…unable to hear you calling her name from upstairs…blood turned cold to trickling from his wounds, blending with her tears on the cold tile floor beneath her cheek.

She was going to kill every last one of them…

⋆ ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆

↞ Rusted tracks ↠

y/n pov:

Seattle fucking sucked. The air was constantly humid causing your clothes to stickily cling to your already grimy skin.

The longing for a simple shower grew to an ache, a desperate yearning for the solace of a warm bath and the brief respite of your own bed. You’d beg even just for a fleeting moment in Jackson—a serene haven amidst snow-draped woods, a place abundant with food and kind locals—where the weight of survival never bore down upon you. But only the small burden of patrol…and even then the frostbitten infected didn’t amount to anything lurking in these desolate subways.

You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t afraid. Though even the word afraid was an understatement…” petrified?” maybe “apprehensive?” was a better word, but even that was cutting it short. Nonetheless just standing in the eerie station was enough to send your heart into a frantic rhythm, letting the thunderous beat echo warningly in your ears.

Your eyes cautiously watched the small flutter of spores dangerously curl in the putrid air. Your ears detecting the faint murmur of the living cordyceps, concealed deep underground, beyond the rusty tracks you both endeavored to follow. With a shaky sigh, you hardened hoping to put a stump in your nerves while the grip on your measly pistol tightened.

“This...feels like a terrible idea.” You announced in a stern grumble. Pathetically trying to conceal the anxiety curling into the pit of your belly…though your twitching joints were evident. Ellie huffed in frustration, weary of the relentless WLFS that hunted you both down, ensnaring you in the debris like cornered rats. Furrowing her brow, she took a moment to regain even an ounce of feigned stability as she wiped soldier blood off her cheek.

“Not like we got much of a choice.” she retorted leaving no room for intervention. Stepping over the bloodied corpse carelessly beginning to venture ahead. Leading you to loyally follow like a fear stricken mutt.

The tracks were dark and quiet leaving a nauseating weight of anticipation. The high-pitched shrieks of clickers shattered the oppressive stillness, amplifying the tension. You couldn’t stand the intensity of silence. Even in the security of Jackson walls, you waited for a fungal corpse to come raging after your lively flesh. You swallow back a tremble creeping into your voice, masking it with a weary sigh.

“Can’t imagine these things ever running.” You mutter walking behind Ellie letting your eyes trace over the dusty seats. Trying to ignore the unstable groans of the offset cart. “Joel used to tell me these things were never pretty even when they were running,” Ellie replied flatly, pulling open a rusty, once-blue door and stepping out cautiously.

“Really?" you interjected, grateful for the mundane conversation amidst the chaos. You were already weary of the violence, and your time in Seattle had barely begun. “Yeah, told me cities like this always were dirty and bubbling with unlikable people…guess Seattle has always been a fuckin’ shit hole.” She muttered with an underlying hatred…part of you believed if she had the power, she would obliterate Seattle off the map..with Abby and everyone else inside.

Innocent or not.

You rid your forsaken thoughts quietly venturing through the desolate subway. Each breath felt heavy within your gas mask, your eyes darting nervously at the sight of fungal vines creeping along the dusty tile walls. You never quite understood why your lover remained unfazed by the infected, her reaction more annoyance than fear—as though they were pests in need of extermination...buzzing about, loud and fast, frustratingly elusive. While you admired her bravery, there lingered a sense of unease at her indifference, crossing the threshold from courageous to unsettlingly….odd.

Back in Jackson, even though the patrols were comparatively milder, you approached them with a grave sense of responsibility. A single misstep could jeopardize not only your own life but also those of the civilians you were protecting in town. But Ellie on the other hand could fool around more and take them on with ease. You knew she harbored fears….but it was a rare sight. Amidst her teasing during your routes, you found yourself constantly urging her to exercise caution. But the girl was impatient and rash…unmistakably brutal too when it came to her kills.

She was so reckless it was…shady

But Ellie was always more carefree despite her awkward approach, she dressed comfortably, she often overslept and even her flirting wasn’t over the top. She could exhibit seriousness and gentleness when needed…but never…fearful.

Your thoughts drifted into familiar realms of paranoia as you followed Ellie in silence, only to be abruptly jolted back by the terrified screams of a man.

“I F-FUCKING GOT YOU YEAH! I GOT YOU!” A wolf's triumphant cry echoed, accompanied by the deafening barrage of gunfire. Spouting ignorant shots. The man supposedly had sauntered down into the subway in search of ‘trespassers’ being you two. Prompting Ellie to swiftly pull you down, seeking refuge behind a dusty window outside the spore-fogged room. Your heart dropped seeing a lumbering fungus stumble with each heavy step. Emitting guttural, vile roars. Invoking an ounce of sympathy for the soldiers.

“What the actual f-fuck is that?” You whispered, your voice quivering with fear, while Ellie's grip on your hand tightened, her emerald eyes fixed on the gruesome spectacle, her lips drawn into a tight scowl.

Did she….enjoy seeing this?

“W-WAIT-“ He paused clicking the trigger helplessly as if his bullets would return, his eyes darting between the useless weapon and the rapidly advancing infection. “N-NO STAY BACK F-FUCK! FUCKING STOP!” He sobbed helplessly under his gas mask but the corpse had no understanding of pleas. As it hunched over letting out a gurgled roar as the pus-like layer of its skin bubbled sprouting acid all over. The soldier's clothes and skin seared them with ease. His now anguished cries echoed the station, etching themselves into your mind.…Before stumbling back and dying.

In the ensuing silence, the gravity of the situation seemed to crush you. And you couldn’t grasp a sliver of focus or care about the lurking danger in the room. Heaving in and out through the stuffy gas mask.

In and out over and over…your nails curling into your hair hearing the scream echo in your ears…your heart threatening to burst in your chest…

You’ve killed before. You’ve witnessed the horrors wrought by the infected.

And yet here you were, recoiling in fear, succumbing to the same terror as the soldier you had just watched die.

You were afraid, there was no masking it. You were fearing for your life, your sanity, what everything was becoming of you…

Becoming of Ellie.

You saw how her eyes hardened on the wolf's terrified face. Like a cow making its way to the slaughter. She thirsted for vengeance…to kill…just like every other hunter in the city.

And you questioned once more

What the fuck were you doing in Seattle.

The relentless pounding of your heart ceased abruptly at the sound of Ellie's urgent voice calling your name once more. Along with the shrieks, gurgles, and clicks of infected hoarding after the dead man’s scream. “Cone on, fuck! We have to go!” She huffed her eyes wide with panic as she yanked your arm forcefully, propelling you to your feet, running close up behind her. Your breath coming in ragged gasps, your legs protesting with each step as you raced to keep pace with her, while the ravenous corpses kept hot on your heels. Their hungry growls echo in your ears as you finally catch sight of a sliver of sunlight filtering into the station.

Adrenaline surged through your veins as you fled behind the auburn-haired. Feeling like you could be torn apart with one misstep. Finally reaching the rusty turn wheels quickly pushed behind Ellie roughly slamming your body against the metal doorway as it creaked loudly in defiance. You heaved in relief as you got through before a stalker squeezed in behind tugging you roughly back. Its rotten nails curl harshly into your clothed shoulders. Leaving you to cry out in pain as crimson floods out your skin.

Ellie's head snapped back in alarm, swift and decisive, as she drew her pistol and fired twice, into the fungal corpse's head. Leaving your cheek painted in vile-smelling blood and deafening ringing in your ears. Stumbling forward, you quickly push yourself away from the turn wheel not daring to look back at the horde of infected desperately trying to push through the rusty barrier. Darting ahead finally out of the horrid station….and back into the gloomy atmosphere of the city…

⋆ ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆

↞sinking to hunger↠

You could swear each moment in Seattle was getting darker. And not just in a literal sense. Ellie’s eyebrows were furrowed focused ahead as she dazed upon the flooded streets looking for any way or direction.

Any sign of Abby…

Your gaze lowered willingly following behind a soft whimper leaving your lips feeling the fabric of your backpack ride over your wounded shoulders. Each breath came out in small, hitched gasps, and a part of you longed to surrender to the overwhelming urge to sob. Not just from pain. But in the mere fact, you were stuck here..stuck in this cycle of violence. Choking back a tremble you rolled your shoulders hoping to alleviate some of the ache, only to succumb to your emotions with a soft hiss, snapping Ellie out of her somber reverie.

Adrenaline was now fleeting, and the air somewhat calm. Her emerald eyes softened with pain etched on your face. Walking back over to you in worry and a small sliver of frustration. “Hey…you okay?” She asks in a gentle rasp before seeing blood dampen your shirt and a pathetic tear roll down your trembling chin. “Shit.” She growled softly under her breath quickly taking the matter into her hands once more. She slipped your heavy bag off your shoulders, her hand interlocking yours as she led you quickly and quietly through the eerie, wet streets and into the shelter of a dilapidated thrift shop.

The small building was quiet..and boarded up just enough for a short rest. The wood floors were well-rooted and damp from non-stop rain. Neglect had taken its toll, with paint peeling from the walls and dust settling on the well-worn furniture. Amongst the chilling air and the stench of mold. Exhaustedly, you took a seat on one of the stained couches pleasing weeping ankles that now ached from travel. Socks drenched with blood from your blistered skin…the lifting pain was almost enough to crack a smile.

Almost….

If your shoulders weren’t totally fucked…

Your eyes flickered back to Ellie walking over after making sure the door was….”securely” closed in with a dusty chair wedged up under the handle. God fucking forbid another soldier spots you two….

Or worse….

She was exhausted…probably more than you…far more. You could see it in her gaze…in her subtle movements. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten let alone held anything down during the night. Your lips tugged into a thin line of frustration holding back a nagging voice in your head as you watched your girlfriend set down her bag and stand before you. “Up…” Her stern voice whispered as you slowly raised your arms hissing softly over the movement. With practiced efficiency, her hands swiftly worked to tug off your grimy shirt. The fabric now aside you lowered your arms again sitting there bare-chested and adorned with bruises from previous fights. While blood thickly dripped down your clawed shoulders down your prominent collarbone to your breasts tipping warmly over your cold buds.

You sensed the girl's annoyance at the setback, a small voice in your head knew if she was desperate enough she could easily leave you behind without a second thought.

You were lucky to be her lover.

“Fucking Christ…” She whispered, a tinge of empathy coloring her voice as she knelt down, rummaging through her disorganized bag in search of supplies to tend to your wounds. Before tugging out a once white rag soaking the fabric in alcohol before running it over your skin, painfully sterilizing the wound. As you trembled and dug your nails into your faded jeans, the stinging sensation intensified, leaving you gritting your teeth in silent agony.

“Fuck! Ellie-“ you heave as she hushed you gently. “I know..I know just sit still for me baby..” she pleaded, her voice soothing, a trace of gentleness still present in her demeanor. Reluctantly, you obeyed, letting your other hand grip her free wrist tightly as you clenched your eyes shut, bracing for the pain as she worked. Silently praying the skin wouldn’t get infected…well by a normal one at least. The mere thought of a runner's bite made you shiver involuntarily, and you quickly banished the horrific image from your mind. Finally, your wound ceased spilling blood as Ellie gently brushed the rough pads of her thumbs over the sensitive skin. Smearing what last bit of ointment we had stored from Jackson.

You sighed softly feeling a bit at ease despite your situation. While Ellie pulled back zipping up and standing up ready to jump back into the brutal hunt. “Ready?” she murmured, shattering the silence between you, leaving no space for rest or even a moment to gather your scattered thoughts. Causing your brows to furrow and exhaustion to pool in with your emotions. “Are you kidding?” You remarked in disbelief. Still topless rubbing over your irritated skin.

Your tone washed over Ellie quickly and her gaze hardened mutually. “The fuck do you think?” She huffed back in offense.

“Ellie I’m tired-“

“And I'm not?" she added abruptly, momentarily catching you off guard. And a subtle bubble of anger and anxiety churning in your stomach.

“We haven’t slept in three fucking days.”

“We can’t stop now we barely got into Seattle-“

“I don’t fucking care! You know I could have almost died today and you’re asking me to get up and start walking again for god knows how long?!” You snapped back angrily while her green eyes glared in return..like an untamed beast.

“I didn’t ask you to follow me you chose this shit on your own! I told you, you had a choice to stay in Jackson and now you're slowing me down! I’m not going fucking sit and hold your hand just so you can keep up!”

Her chest heaved with indignation, her parched lips contorting into a bitter scowl, while you sat there like a scolded child. Your jaw dropped in disbelief, tears flooding your vision. Your nails, digging further into your worn jeans. Unable to utter a word in fear your voice would tremble and break in on itself. Yet, amid the turmoil, Ellie's gaze softened ever so slightly, recognizing her lover's distress.

“Look..if…if we just…get pasted a few of these FEDRA gates…we can rest up a little..I promise…” she whispered reaching out to rub your cheek until you turned your head away quietly in defiance. With a huff of frustration, you tugged on your bloodied shirt throwing your heavy bag back on your achy shoulders. Stomping out the old shop leaving Ellie sinking in guilt while you waited outside to get back on track.

The city hung heavy with gloom, the rain cascading down relentlessly as the sun struggled to penetrate the thick veil of storm clouds. Though, you could barely even tell it was setting. Humidity clung to you, intensifying the discomfort in your skin. Sighing shakily you tugged up your hood arms wrapped tightly around your body wishing to fight away the cold….and choke back your emotions quietly.

Inside, Ellie clenched her eyes shut, her hands balling into tight, trembling fists as she struggled to contain her guilt. With a shaky sigh, she attempted to mask her inner turmoil before joining you outside. Without a word, she began to lead the way, descending into the heart of the flooded Conurbation….

#ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #tlou2 #lgbtq #wlw #ellie williams smut #angst #slow build #tlou #Spotify

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sparklingdreams22 · 3 months

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bitter sweet (pt 2) - m.s

summary: y/n has been known to the fan base of a harmless friend that constantly reassures that they are nothing more than friends. all until a green illness has brought up buried feelings.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: anxiety

*made this part a bit longer than the previous, i hope y'all have a great day/night <3

he lied. well, not technically. ever since her move to L.A to pursue her career further, the sturniolo’s had been the only ones that were the most genuine. it was a whole package she had been blessed to get, they had still kept their humility.

matt and y/n grew closer once he found out that she, too, suffers from anxiety. they bonded over how silly it was because we are both in the spotlight. this anxiety also costed many opportunities of revealing her blossoming feelings to matt due to their fans. the sturniolo fans had been fond of y/n, but it took some time, just like it did madi.

once they deemed her as non threatening, they stopped sending her as many hate comments.

y/n went home that night, making an excuse of management meetings in the early morning since it was not unusual for her to crash at their place.

the next day, she lays on her back, not knowing why it is affecting her this much. she had a mental promise to herself of not going there, she couldn’t take advantage of the gift of three.

“hey!,” nic’s voice echoes from the phone. “we have one short meeting with laura in about twenty minutes, we were just going to stop by afterwards. around 8pm sounds okay?”

her looming and tingling thoughts persisted throughout the night. she barely got any sleep that night, it didn’t help that she had been binge watching money heist. the only task she had gotten to complete was assembling breakfast.

“uh,” y/n sighs. she can’t avoid her best friends. she snapped straight up from her previous laying position. “sure, just let me know when y’all are on your way?”

once she ends the call with nic, she scurries to her closet to get out of her comfort clothes that eases her sensory overload. she did not need to care about her appearance with the brothers but somehow in some way, a sliver of insecurity courses through her, cooling her veins.

after opening the door to invite the expected guests into the house. but when she squinted to adjust to the beaming light, she did not expect there to be one person. the person she had wished to have more time to process was standing right in front of her.

“hey,” matt greets softly with his hands in his pockets.

y/n lets out a breath from running down the stairs. her heart rate shoots up, making her blew a piece of hair from her face, “hi.”

she notices the way matt scans her figure in a way that makes her heart flutter. to cut the pause in the air, she invites matt in before asking questions of the whereabouts of his brothers. the whispers of birds and slight breeze from the outside grind to a halt the moment y/n had close the door.

“where’s nic and chris?”

matt observes the room in a way a person strolling through a museum, which y/n fiddles her hands together. “when did you redecorate?”

oh. she had forgotten that chris and matt had not been to her place in a while, but it had not changed dramatically. “a couple weeks ago, but i only added a few things.”

his lips tip up as he finally turns around to face y/n. “i like it,” he links his fingers behind his back as he takes a couple steps toward her. “it suits you.”

a soft smile reaches her face, and she takes a small sharp inhale when she realized she had to breathe. they lock eyes, she took this chance to take in his appearance, most likely for the last time she could ever before he’s not single.

“would you like a glass of water?” she rushes over to her kitchen not caring if he wanted a glass or not, she definitely needed to get across the room from him. she swings open the cabinet where the drinking glasses are stored and for that, she had to lift herself on her tippy toes.

the moment she shuts the cabinet after grasping a cup, she finds matt standing ever so close to her. despite her attempt to create some distance.

“are you doing okay?”

he gazes at her so intently as if trying to see past the wall she tried to build up. she’s not very good at this, considering the only “lie” she had kept from them was her feelings.

“i’m just tired is all,” technically this is not a lie. she barely pulls all nighters, so the lack of sleep has definitely influenced her mood. “i didn’t get to sleep well last night.”

a smirk attempting to creep onto his face. “was it saltburn?” y/n lets out a genuine laugh, glad that this relieved her fast beating heart.

“why?” he leans his weight on the elbows that are pressed against the island countertop. the sound of running water fills the air, and y/n took the time to think of the reason why. “is it because kennedy isn’t here?”

hm, not bad.

“sort of?” she brings the cup to her mouth, relieving the dryness.

“you know,” he takes a couple steps to round the counter and leans his back against it with his arms crossed. “you could always crash at our place.” he tilts his head as if gravity was weighing down his head.

her eyes widen, and she shakes her head immediately. “no, it’s okay,” she awkwardly laughs. “i mean madi told me she was crashing at your place.” i knew i could sleep on the couch, but i knew one of the boys would give up their room.

“you could always sleep in my bed,” he crosses one leg over the other and leans on the stable leg. see? “or chris’ if you want?” he lifts his arm up to scratch the back of his neck. oh.

how do i get out of this one?

“i don’t need a babysitter, bernard.” she rolls her eyes as she heads towards the sink that was conveniently next to matt. when she goes to turn on the faucet, she feels a presence entering her personal space bubble, and she locks eyes with his blue ones.

“i know you don’t,” there was a quick glance from her eyes to her lips that she almost misses it. almost. “but if you feel safer with us, you’re more than welcome to stay.”

his response made her eyes gleam with his gentle manner, it’s what made her have a natural instinct of a flutter throughout her veins. his smile slowly reaches his eyes when he turns around and makes a beeline to her room.

y/n”s eyebrows pull together as she follows in his steps to figure out what he’s up to. when she enters her bedroom, she finds matt engulfed in her closet, rummaging around to pick out clothes.

“what are you doing?” she lets out a chuckle when she just watches her friend chuck clothing into a bag of hers.

“kennedy’s gone for what? seven more days?” he finally pauses to shrug at his estimate before returning to his task of gathering more items. “you’re staying with us for the time being.”

“am i, now?” y/n leans against the door with her arms crossed, amused by his behavior. he zips the bag up, indicating that he had finished.

“i’ll wait in the car, once you gathered, uh-” he runs a hand through his hand as he steps closer to her. “get other essentials.” he clears his throat and sticks his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“essentials,” a smirk threatening to slip when her eyes squint up to meet his eyes. she tugs her bottom lip when she notices a pink tint on his face.

“i’ll meet you in the car,” he rolls his eyes and steps out from her line of vision.

after she packed up the last few items, she locked her door on the way out and immediately spotted matt’s car. she loaded her things into the car and got settled in the passenger seat.

on the way to the house was not exactly awkward, it mostly consisted of jamming to music matt kindly gave y/n permission to do so. there were moments where y/n would catch matt staring at her from time to time at red lights, but she knew it was from the goodness of his heart. she notices that he does this to make sure the person is okay, but y/n finds it hard to keep up that barrier if he keeps staring at her like that.

they enter the house with matt carrying the stuff even through y/n’s protests, and two-thirds of the brothers were nowhere in sight. y/n gently places her stuff on the couch before she hears shuffling on the stairs, indicating someone was coming down the stairs.

“hi, y/n!” nic voices and approaches the girl to give her a hug. madi appears from behind nic to wave at y/n before embracing her as well.

“wow,” nic”s eyebrows pull up in surprise. “you moving in or?”

“if it’s okay,” matt interjects as he brings a hand to soothe the back of his neck. “could she stay here until kennedy comes back from vacation?”

“why are you asking me?” nic questions and lifts one brow. “she practically lives here anyways, we’ll just get a blow-up mattress from downstairs.” he turns his body to face chris as if signaling that chris fetches the mattress.

“no, it’s okay, i can sleep on the couch,” y/n points to the furniture behind her. “don’t worry about me, i’ll probably stay up anyway.” matt furrows his eyebrows in a disapproving way but doesn’t say anything.

as everyone turned in to get ready for bed, y/n enters the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. it felt as if the room was depriving of air when her mind drifts to the thought that matt was in the room adjacent to her. shut up, brain.

why now? she couldn't control the feelings that were erupting to the surface. as kennedy has always said, bottling shit up only makes things feel like world war three will incite. but y/n just wanted her mind to shut off.

the moment she steps out of the bathroom and heads towards the living room, she stops dead in her tracks when she finds matt sprawled comfortable on the couch with her stuff nowhere in sight.

“what the fuck?”

“you’re stuff’s in my room,” he doesn’t even bother glancing up to look at her. “you can take my room.”

“um, no?” she crosses her arms and doesn't move an inch before continuing. “i’ll be staying here for seven days, you’re not giving up your room for me for that long.”

matt doesn’t bother replying as he continues to play his stupid game that he plays every day.

“seriously,” she exasperates as she approaches the boy. “i’ve slept here before.”

that got a reaction from matt as he finally cranes his neck up to look at the brunette. “you have? when?”

“nic kept kicking me at night,” she huffs.

matt lifts the right corner of his mouth in a knowing smile as he continues to focus on the device in his hands. y/n studied him for a few seconds, not believing how stubborn this kid is.

“seriously?”

“dead serious,” he mutters.

“can we negotiate?” she fiddles with the end of her sweater, trying to ease the nerves coursing through her veins. matt only chuckles at her question, and he then shakes his head.

“i’m not living in your room for seven days, matthew.”

he pauses the game and locks eyes with the girl. his eyes soften when he recognizes her habit of not wanting to feel like a burden, especially taking things that are not hers. he grew very fond of that trait since it was so rare in L.A.

“go,” he reaches out to her, lightly grazing her forearm. “get some sleep.”

y/n stills and is frozen even when matt returned his attention to the screen in his hands. it only took her a few more seconds before registering that she had lost all confidence to even respond.

she closes the door and turns the light off to matt’s room. she lets her eyes adjust to her surroundings and begins to think which side he usually sleeps on.

he probably sleeps on the right side of the bed. so her feet guides her to the side closest to the blank wall and gently sits on the edge of the bed.

she has laid on his bed before, it wasn’t new but recently, it feels different. she settles underneath the covers stiffly before thinking of how matt is doing when her mind shifts to the light touch to her arm.

the memory had lingered for a bit longer before she drifts to sleep comfortably in matt’s bed.

#matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #romance #slow burn #slow build #sturniolo

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experimentfae · 11 months

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Actor Au Wally darling x GN Human! reader (2)

While you were walking out the guy from before ran towards you “wait the director!” This made you turn around “the-the director wanted you’re number.” He spoke out of breath, Right you forget about letting them know you’re number.

“Oh I’m sorry here it is.” He gave you a paper to write it down. “Thanks.” Then he walked away without another word. Which in return made you continue you’re way home.

Wally’s pov:

That little- I threw another object at my dressing room wall in raged by what the director told me.

“How dare they practically replace Me!” feeling the anger bubbling in me threatening to rage out again, but I heard a knock.

“Wally? Is everything ok?” I know that voice anywhere my best friend Barnaby I let out deep breaths trying to cool myself down. “Come in.” I replied

The I see him walk in looking around the dressing room “wow must be some bad news for you to be acting like this.” He stated seeming concern.

“barnaby… they are basically replacing me!” I yelled in anger but now with sadness mixed along with it, I could tell Barnaby was shocked “are you serious?” He questioned “of course I’m serious Barnaby, you know I would never joke about something like that!” I spoke just the thought of that, human taking my place.

“Wally I’m so sorry we will talk with the director.” He assured seeming confident they could change their mind “no… don’t even bother I know they been waiting for this opportunity, of course it fell right on their lap they aren’t gonna change their mind.” I advised.

He now seem defeated can’t blame him I feel it too “oh even is you’re replacement?” I let out a sigh don’t even want to think about them “it was some human that unfortunately despite my best efforts made it to the audition.”

“Now I can see why you told me not to bother changing their mind.” It’s unfortunate he knew what I meant immediately, sadly puppets still deal with oppression to this day.

I felt him hug my side “I promise Wally it will get better it always does.” I badly want to believe him but I can’t.

“Thanks Barnaby.”

(Y/N) pov:

I let out a gasp, the director gave me a message

[hello (y/n) hope this reaches you and we would be happy to say they you are hired for the new role of welcome home shooting starts on Monday 18th on 9:30 am please don’t be late]

I let out a excited screech “oh my cheese! I… I can’t believe this I got the part, I, I… man what should I do now?” You made a great achievement to the point you weren’t sure what you’re exact move should be.

“I guess I should tell my family!” You spoke feeling happy you called you’re immediate family and told them about the great news and of course they where ecstatic “sweetie we are so proud of you.” Stated you’re (parent 1).

“Yes sweetie we are, I hope this makes great things happen for you.” (parent 2) assured showing how much they cared and where excited for you.”

This made you happy next was to call you’re friend but you hesitated, they wanted the part you got would they be upset?

“Maybe I shouldn’t…” you didn’t tell you’re friend about the news, at least not yet.

But you love to tell them about it and you needed to vent about how Wally didn’t seem all that pleased to see you, you did hear that he wasn’t fond of humans.

But you weren’t gonna let that stop you.

“I’m sure he’ll get over it I just hope the rest of the crew is more nicer, at least I know Eddie is pretty nice.”

Wally pov:

The newest episode went by like normal until the near the end of the episode.

I felt a bit of annoyance looking at the fake new house that appeared in the neighborhood but I have to keep a happy face after all, the cameras are rolling.

“Wow there is a new home!” Cheered Julie “this gotta be interesting.” Spoke Barnaby

I looked Into the camera “neighbor look a new neighbor is coming, isn’t this wonderful news?, are you excited just like us?.”

I paused pretending to expect a response

“That’s good neighbor we must always welcome people with open arms, next episode we would officially meet the new neighbor, can’t wait to see you next week.”

I waved goodbye until the camera cutoff and I fake smile turn neutral.

“Get me a chai latte, now.” The assistant immediately went to get the coffee and I sat down as the makeup crew took off my eye shadow.

“Hey Wally.” I looked to see Julie “I heard about what happen.” She seem upset for me this made me upset too I never like seeing my friends like that.

“It’s unfortunate but yeah.” I sighed out “wow I thought it was a rumor at first never thought they would try to replace you.” She replied in disbelief.

“Yeah no worry Julie I’m sure the new member can’t be that good.” I stated with confidence

Time skip Monday 18th of this month:

You drove to the studio and made you’re way in, you see the director waiting for you.

Their faces lighten up when they saw you “there is the star of the hour.” The director declared I felt myself be nervous.

“Yeah the new neighbor.” I said with a chuckle hoping it well take off the nerves.

“Yes mrx.(l/n) into the dressing room immediately.” The director said as someone from backstage showed you you’re dressing room “there is a 70s theme outfit waiting for you in the room, a makeup crew will come shortly.”

Spoke the person that showed you the way and they immediately left to do their other task

“Oh alright.” You said as you walked in and looked to see the outfit, you actually liked it “wow can’t believe this is happening still.” You spoke to yourself part you wanted to believe this was a dream, but you did enough pinching to definitely say this is a reality.

You go into the outfit and you sat down waiting for the makeup crew until you heard a knock on you’re door “come in.” You assured as you look to see you’re surprise it was.

Previous:(1)

Next chapter:(3)

<- Back to MasterList or back to welcome home

(Lol cliffhanger b/c I’m evil 😈)

(Sorry you guys didn’t have much interaction with Wally yet but it’s happening on the next chapter promise you that)

(Also sorry that I didn’t write sooner I had writer’s block)

#welcome home arg #welcome home #welcome home fandom #welcome home x reader #wally darling x gn reader #actor au wally darling #welcome home fanfic #wally darling x reader #slow burn #slow build #enimes to lovers

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tragic-fluff · 9 months

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I am so thrilled to share this! One of my most loyal readers of my fanfic, Phoebe, commissioned this work by Senekart on Instagram. It illustrates the end of chapter 40. So beautiful! I hope you enjoy!

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archivingfanfiction · 10 months

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Interview with a Bat

by Musers

“You reported on Daith’s attempt to remove me as sitting CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

Clark paused for a moment.

The article he wrote about the incident was insignificant, yet something about it seemed to have stuck out to Bruce Wayne.

“A lot of reporters covered that story.”

“Yes. A lot of reporters did, didn’t they?”

It felt like a trick, but he nodded anyways.

“So many reporters-” Bruce’s eyes finally moved away from the guests and back onto Clark. “And yet-” he took a small sip of the champagne- “you’re the only one who didn’t mention my kids.”

Clark interviews Bruce Wayne at a society function, it takes them a while to figure each other out.

#superbat #superman x batman #identity shenanigans #fanfic #fic recs #alternate universe #slow build #superhero things #no metas in gotham's pants

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dapandapod · 7 months

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Bruises

I realized I forgot to post this on Tumbl! It's about 8,5k and written in one day in a fit of inspiration (helppppp) because I needed that sweet sweet Jaskier whump. Please enjoy this emotional hurt/comfort ish-fix-it of season 2. On Ao3 here

Jaskier never expected to see Kaer Morhen, especially not in the way he ended up seeing it.

The dwarves lead him and Ciri as far as they can, banter and cutting remarks following Jaskier at every step.

Sure, he gives as good as he gets; whatever he is dealt he makes sure to give back, if he can get away with it.

But you can only be hit so many times before it becomes a bruise, no matter how lightly.

And Jaskier is already sore, from years of barbs, from years of being told to “fuck off, bard” or “shut up, bard” or “you are so fucking loud,” and well. It hits harder when it is someone you consider a friend.

Especially when it turns out that friendship was one sided.

The little princess is full of resentment and anger, but trading banter puts a small smile on her face, so he lets her.

If the way to get friendly is to let her tease him, so be it. He knows she needs an outlet for her inner turmoil so it doesn’t fester, so he turns up the dramatics and plays along.

The second to last eve they spend with the dwarves, it suddenly becomes too much. He knows Yarpen isn’t a fan, he knows there is some truth behind his name calling and swearing.

Ciri is sitting across the fire, sharpening a stick with the knife from her boot, looking for all the world like she isn’t paying attention to the conversation around her.

But then one of the dwarves calls Jaskier an ignorant, lazy, useless human, wondering what the fuck he is doing here anyway.

Maybe it is the ale, maybe it is the smoke stinging his eyes, or the years of putting up with it.

Jaskier doesn’t remember which one of them it was afterwards, and it doesn’t matter. His anger flares. He stands up, and the group goes very quiet.

“Have any of you asked me anything of my life? Have any of you bothered to ask what I was doing in a fucking prison cell, why I don’t have a lute, or where I went after you left that fucking dragon hunt with Geralt?”

There is complete silence, only the crackling of the fire and the night sounds of the forest.

“You might think I’m useless, and that I am lazy, and that I’m ignorant. But I don’t have to be here. I have people depending on me, yet here I am. Giving up responsibilities and comforts alike, all for someone who can’t even call me a friend, surrounded by people who clearly don’t want me here.”

He flexes his hands, feeling the blistered and burned skin strain, the pain clearing his head some.

“I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.” He finishes, picks up his bedroll and his pack, and settles on the outskirts of the camp, by the wagon.

Close enough to be safe, far away enough to get some peace.

It takes a few minutes for the muttering to begin, a few more until Ciri stands up too, and gathers her bedroll.

Until now, she has been distant, and he can’t blame her in the least. Now she settles down just a few feet from him, alongside the carriage.

It is colder here in the north, and neither of them had any kind of proper gear packed for their journey, unplanned as it was. He still drapes his leather jacket over her when he hears her chattering teeth, and settles on his bedroll with just a thin blanket.

Kaer Morhen is all big halls, high ceilings and hairy men. Hairy witchers. Lots of them too, and Ciri runs to greet them with a big smile.

They had found Eskel along the path, guiding them the rest of the way up. Ciri knew some of the way already, but only the paths closest to the keep, so it was a great relief having someone who knew what to avoid and what trails led them past ancient traps and monster dens.

The road was long, and Jaskier can’t believe Geralt thought he would make it here unscathed. Eskel seemed a little concerned as well when Jaskier explained his task, but said nothing.

Still says nothing, now that Ciri is surrounded by witchers, and Jaskier is left just standing there at the edge of the room. He is usually not one to hesitate to introduce himself, but he is tired, hungry, and frankly feeling rather neglected.

Eventually Ciri introduces him to the group, and it takes about three seconds after that to figure out who Lambert is.

Ah, ‘Lambert, Lambert, what a prick,’ indeed.

He is given dinner, a place to sleep, and is shown to the room where they keep a myriad of bathtubs. Lucky for him, there is already a fire going, making the room warm and toasty, and making it considerably easier to warm the water without any signs.

Jaskier can’t lie, he had been picturing hot springs, or anything pre-heated really, especially the shallow pool that had been built in the floor.

A quick toe dip later, and he is never stepping foot in that pool, ever.

His fingers ache when they come in contact with the heat of the fireplace, and he flexes them in an attempt to dispel the discomfort.

Sinking down into a tub at long last is heaven.

Dirt from far more than the road to the keep has had his skin itching, his hair stuck in a permanent curl around his ears, and he longs for his artistic dishevelment once more.

Sharing breakfast with the witchers of Kaer Morhen enlightens him about the many odd manners of Geralt of Rivia.

Watching the other witchers mess with each other explains so much. Unguarded food is immediately stolen, and if given the chance, someone will increase the temperature of their tea all the way to boiling, and then challenge each other to drink it, and so on, and so forth. Brotherly pranks, clearly, but the kind you need a certain set of mutations to deal with.

Jaskier only has his mixed heritage to keep him out of the worst of troubles that technically would be bad news for full humans, but nothing to keep him safe from this, so he steers clear.

Yennefer and Geralt join them that same afternoon.

Ciri runs into Geralt’s arms, and Jaskier remains at the table where he is challenging Coën with loaded dice.

Not until most of the others have gone to bed does Geralt finally approach him.

“Thank you for bringing her safely here.”

Jaskier looks at him for a long while, before replying.

“You’re welcome.” He says finally, and Geralt pats his shoulder. Weird.

After that first day, Jaskier approaches Vesemir while the others are busy.

The way he left things in Oxenfurt doesn’t sit right with him, and he is pretty sure Pricilla is going to assume he is dead if he doesn’t get a message to her soon.

He still has no idea how long he is supposed to stay in the keep, but he writes a carefully worded letter, assuring his safety and asking her to keep singing the Song of the Shore.

She will know what the coded song title means, and he has enough funds squirreled away to keep the entire Sandpiper operation going for a while longer, before he needs to find a way to beg his benefactor for assistance.

Vesemir gives him a long look, and Jaskier offers the letter he is holding, stifling a frustrated sigh.

“You are free to read it. I’m not trying to give away your location, just assure my safety of me and those I left behind.” He says, because he knows.

He spent years in the library of Oxenfurt, and he has read the old tomes that contain what little witcher history there is to find, as poorly depicted as it is. He knows about the sacking of the keep, understands the fear of it happening again.

It still stings.

Vesemir accepts his offer, and opens the letter, reading it over. His eyebrow climbs up his forehead, and he looks at Jaskier before putting it back into its envelope.

“I’ll have it sent.” He says, his mustache twitching when he makes a considering face. “Do any of the others know?”

“About the Sandpiper?” Jaskier asks, and Vesemir nods. “Yennefer knows. She was a part of the last group I sent off, before…” Jaskier stops and takes a breath. “Before. I know how and when to keep things to myself.”

Vesemir nods again approvingly, and takes the letter with him.

No one seems to have noticed the exchange, and Jaskier is left wondering if that is a good or a bad thing.

Things are a bit tense in the keep. Geralt still hasn’t seemed to forgive Yennefer for her betrayal, and Ciri seems to be more withdrawn lately.

Between witcher practice and chores, Jaskier tries to make himself as useful as he can be.

Which is not very, as it turns out, since he is not trusted to be in the lab anymore because of a tiny little tasting incident. Nor is he allowed to help with the patching up the keep. The library is Vesemir’s baby, and Jaskier is sure he is safeguarding secrets of the past there.

So Jaskier just… hangs around. Without a lute, he can’t play, and he probably wouldn’t be able to just yet anyway with his fingers still in their sorry state. The blistered skin has started peeling now, and new soft pink skin has started to show underneath.

He and Yennefer are getting closer, both of them evidently outcasts of a sort.

Especially since none of the other witchers make an effort to get to know them, nor is Geralt paying any kind of attention to either of them. She is the only one who really knows about the firefucker, and nobody has bothered to ask about the bandages.

If she had her chaos, she could have healed him, but she doesn’t, so instead she makes what ointments she can and watches him like a hawk to make sure he doesn’t eat it instead of applying it.

Late summer is slowly becoming early fall, and Jaskier realizes that his window for leaving is ever shrinking.

He doesn’t want to leave, not really, but he has no idea what he's doing here. Geralt hasn't asked him to leave, but neither has he asked him to stay.

Their interactions are short and rarely between them alone.

A lot of it consists of Geralt being nearby when Jaskier is retelling funny stories of their travels, making Ciri smile and the other witchers roar with laughter and the corner of Geralt’s mouth twitch in an aborted smile.

They don’t treat him like the dwarves did, but they clearly don't know why Jaskier is here either, and it is frustrating to say the least.

They seem to appreciate his singing more than Geralt ever did, sure, but sometimes it feels like they use him to annoy Geralt, and sometimes Jaskier thinks it’s working…

Lambert is probably the worst. He is an asshole and excuses it by calling it honesty.

He picks up where Geralt left off after the mountain, poking at every visible sore spot until Jaskier is stinging. Jabs and jibes, poking fun at Jaskier to make the others laugh. Nothing he isn’t used to, but something that makes Jaskier feel uncomfortable when nobody steps in to stop him.

Ciri sticks close to his side after those nights.

She doesn’t say much, doesn’t try to defend him, and he would never ask her to, but she glares at Lambert and asks Jaskier to tell her another story, which he gladly does.

It’s been two weeks since their arrival, and he, Lambert, Coën and Geralt are gathered around the dining table. Most of the others have filtered out to their own tasks or downtime activities, but they linger, chatting and playing dice. Coën stays out of it, still not trusting Jaskier since the loaded dice incident, which Jaskier is immensely proud of.

For the first time in a long time, Jaskier is actually enjoying himself, and enjoying being next to his friend. Maybe, after all this time, Geralt has started to think of him as a friend too.

Until Lambert opens his mouth and ruins it all.

“You are not half as bad as Geralt made you out to be. Or maybe it’s because he made you leave your lute behind at the bottom of the mountain?”

Next to him Geralt stiffens, and Jaskier feels his jaw working.

“Thanks,” is all he says, shaking the dice in the cup one more time before slamming it down on the table a little harder than strictly necessary. Then he stands up and climbs over the bench, very fucking done with the entire conversation.

Behind him he can hear Coën berating Lambert, who pretends he has no idea what he said wrong.

Fucking asshole.

He doesn’t hear Geralt say anything, nor ask about the missing lute.

It’s not that cold out yet, but the air is fresh and crisp on his face when he steps out through one of the side entrances to the courtyard. Here and there witchers are milling about, but Jaskier wants to be alone.

He hurries to the main gate and across the bridge, seeking his solitude amongst the trees on the other side. Technically, it is a bit dangerous to go out alone, but Jaskier is pretty sure no little beasties would dare come close to a monster hunter’s keep in broad daylight.

“Jaskier.” Geralt calls after him, and Jaskier stifles a long line of swears. Still he lets Geralt catch up to him, even if he is decidedly not looking at the witcher.

“Lambert can be such a prick.” Geralt says when he has caught up. “He only wants to rile you up.”

Jaskier notices the clear lack of an apology in there.

“So I’ve noticed. And he succeeded,” Jaskier says shortly, flexing his fingers again.

A bad habit now, but it is better than picking at the sharp, hardened edges of skin that still cling to his fingertips as they heal.

Clearly, Geralt hadn’t thought through what he wanted to say, or he had expected this to be enough. It isn’t. He lingers, still standing there, waiting for… something.

“What do you want from me, Geralt?” He asks when Geralt isn’t saying anything, and turns to look at him. His… friend. The man he has spent far too many years believing he meant something to.

“... I wanted to see if you are alright.” Geralt says haltingly, and Jaskier finally snaps.

“Oh yes, I am clearly alright after being told time and time again that I am annoying, unwanted, useless, loud, and being told by your family that you had made me out to be all those things too, before they even met me.”

Geralt looks taken aback, but Jaskier is not done.

“I’m tired of this, Geralt. I am so fucking tired of this. Not once have you come to my defence, not once have you told them to fuck off.”

“You can hold your own.” Geralt says, frowning, and Jaskier spreads his arm in frustration.

“I can, of course I fucking can! I have to, since not even the man I thought of as my best friend considers me a friend enough to have my back!”

Again, the witcher doesn’t have a reply to that. Fucking figures.

“Leave me alone, Geralt. Before I say something I’ll regret.”

“...Don’t wander.” The witcher cautions him hesitantly, and thankfully returns towards the bridge.

Jaskier stays longer than what is probably advisable. He is just fuming, and he kicks a young tree, making yellow leaves fall down around him.

He could technically blow off steam by sitting down to write, but there would be an audience no matter where he goes in the keep, and he is also not very much in the mood for another Burn Butcher Burn.

That one has done enough damage already.

In the end, it is Ciri who ends up fetching him. She doesn’t say anything about his red eyes and tousled hair, nor the bruises on his knuckles.

“Dinner is ready,” is all she says, and waits for him to join her back across the bridge with the others.

Jaskier takes his dinner and chooses another table far from the big group. Predictably, Ciri joins him, but he didn’t expect Eskel to sit down with them, too. Nor Yennefer. Nor Geralt.

They talk amongst themselves, even if Ciri and Jaskier are the only one replying to Yennefer when she says something.

It makes him feel weird, considering their rivalry all these years.

He knocks their shoulders together and teases her, calls her the worst wife ever. It is worth it for the smile he teases out of her, but he notices Geralt pull in a sharp breath of air.

“What?” he asks, but Geralt says nothing, just stares down at his food.

That evening, Geralt walks Jaskier back to his room.

“I’m sorry,” the witcher finally says after a long stretch of silence that Jaskier refuses to fill. “For what Lambert said. And for what I made Lambert believe.”

Jaskier blinks in surprise. When there is nothing else, he turns towards his door.

“Sure. See you around, Geralt.”

But Geralt stops him with a hand around his wrist.

“Are you and Yennefer… really married?”

Of course. Of course that is what would be on Geralt’s mind. Another sore spot amongst the others on his bruised heart.

“Fret not, witcher, the sorceress is still unwed and free for the taking. She did get me out of a rather sticky situation, though, so if it’s all the same to you, I do consider her my friend and platonic wife.”

With that, Jaskier turns and closes the door behind him.

Fuck, that was not how he wanted this day to go. His eyes sting and he swallows many times and he clenches his fists to keep his emotions in line.

Maybe it is time to leave.

Maybe it is time to go back to where people need and want him. Where he can make a difference. Where he can matter. Where he is enough.

His eyes sting once more, and with a great sigh he heaves himself from where he was leaning against the door and pours himself a cup of water.

He’ll talk with Eskel in the morning. Or Vesemir. Find a way to leave that won’t inconvenience anyone any further.

Leaving is harder than he thought, mainly because now, all of a sudden, people seem to seek his company.

Yennefer keeps appearing, asking him for help with stupid things. Some of them, he realizes, might be a way to regain the trust she broke between her and Geralt, but he appreciates her company it all the same.

Especially since most of it includes making Ciri smile, some other parts of it to make Lambert’s life a little more shitty. Something he is all for, to be honest.

Jaskier is petty when he wants to be, and right now he is the Prince of Petty.

Geralt too, seems to have come to some conclusion. He bites back faster when Lambert becomes too much, or Eskel, or Coën for that matter. In Jaskier’s defence, even.

It’s… weird. Nice, but weird.

And it is tearing at the walls that he spent all summer building.

Jaskier writes another letter to Pricilla.

Vesemir had told him that he will accept no return letter, but there are some strings he could pull if it were really necessary. Since they are hiding from Nilfgaard in a keep deeply hidden away by time and nature, Jaskier respects the need for it, and continues writing his one sided letters.

He is rather used to one sided communication, after all.

When he finally thinks he is about to get Eskel alone, it is not by his own doing.

“I’m sorry, I found a journal without a name, and I looked through it to see who it belonged to.”

Well, fuck.

“Jaskier. You are putting yourself at great risk.”

“And others even more so, if I don’t.” Jaskier replies, knowing exactly what he is referring to. Eskel blinks, then nods.

“I need to go back, Eskel. Before winter comes.”

“It’s too dangerous. The pass will be open for a few weeks more, but you are a wanted man.”

This is news.

“What do you know?” He asks quietly, accepting his journal back.

“I have no idea how you got into the prison cell, but word’s spread that the White Wolf busted you out.”

Fuck.

“That’s not good.”

“I’m sorry.” Eskel says, and Jaskier pats his shoulder, but he immediately pulls his hand back with a grimace. How can one see the spikes on his shoulders, and forget that they are, indeed, spikey?

“Shouldn’t have done that. Why do you keep wearing spikes?” Jaskier says. “ Also, no fault but my own, I suppose, with the jailbreaking and all that. Actually, scratch that, are all witchers allergic to just bailing someone out? Or is it just a Geralt thing?”

Jaskier tries to lighten the mood, but his stomach is sinking and his hands feel clammy. Time to write another letter or three.

“Witcher’s are all cheapskates, I’m afraid,” Eskel grins, but then sobers. “Do the others know?”

Jaskier shrugs.

“They didn’t ask. Nobody asked.”

At the same time, Geralt comes around the corner and spots them, a frown forming on his forehead. Of course.

“Right. Well, if you would keep this to yourself, I’d be immensely grateful.” Jaskier says quietly, and this time Eskel pats Jaskier’s shoulder.

“I got your back, bard,” the scarred witcher says, ironically, and now there is a lump forming in Jaskier’s throat.

Great. Fantastic. Splendid. Amazing.

Without waiting, Jaskier takes off towards his room to hide his journal again. Not to avoid Geralt. Not at all.

The letters he puts together are swiftly given to Vesemir. His eyebrows shoot up again when he spots one of the names addressed.

“Not a friend I would have expected of you, Pankratz.” Vesemir says quietly. “I hope you know what you are doing.”

Jaskier knows. It is a high risk game for everybody involved, with him in the direct line of fire.

“They will have to make do without me for a while.” Jaskier says quietly. “Or so Eskel tells me.”

“Ah, yes. Might be good to lay low for a while. You are welcome to stay the season with us, if you don’t have anywhere else to go, but we expect you to pull your weight.”

Does he have anywhere? Is he really welcome here?

The way Geralt looks at him sometimes, he is not so sure.

“Thank you. Though I might need to make a trip down to civilization soon. Some more clothes, paper and a lute. What kind of bard am I without a lute?” He asks, half joking.

“It’d be better if we sent down one of our usuals.” Vesemir says, scratching at his beard. “A man like yourself is sure to stand out anywhere in these small settlements.”

Was that a complement?

“Was that a complement?” Jaskier says, smirking, and Vesemir huffs goodnaturedly.

“I can see them looking, bard. I have eyes. And ears.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jaskier asks, frowning, but Vesemir turns to go.

“Write me a list of what you need, and I’ll see what we can do.”

Aubry and Coën leave only a few days after Jaskier had written his list. He doesn’t really expect them to find him a lute, but something stringed to play would be nice. It’s rather likely they would find a 4 stringed lute at most, nothing like the one he smashed over that guard’s head, nor like the one he got from the Elven kind that he keeps safely in Oxenfurt.

Frankly, he’s glad that he couldn’t bring one of his nicer instruments.

The temperature changes could crack the wood, if not treated carefully, and it would be hell to keep that many strings tuned. He is pleasantly surprised when there is a knock on his door, and Geralt steps in with a leather case.

“The boys found you something,” he says by way of greeting, and Jaskier stands from his desk to accept the offered case.

He can feel the corner of his mouth tick up, and he wipes his hands on his trousers first to rid himself of stray ink before he dares touch it.

He grips it by the neck, feeling the smooth wood even through the leather of the case, and the gentle sounds of the strings as they are pinched in his grip.

“Oh, hello there,” he whispers to it, and opens it reverently.

She has six strings and a little care package, and she is terribly out of tune. The wood is old, loved, worn out, and he can see clearly where her previous player liked to put their fingers, the lacquer worn or marked to help the unpracticed one.

“What a beauty you are,” he tells her, and from the corner of his eyes, he sees Geralt leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. It almost looks like he is smiling, but Jaskier won’t turn his head to look.

There is a nervousness in him, like when you get to know a new lover. Excitement, fondness, curiosity.

He sits down on the bed, lute perched in his lap, and attempts to tune it. He fishes out the little tuning fork around his neck, raps it on his knuckles, plucks the matching string, and starts adjusting it.

Geralt makes a face; it’s probably not a nice sound to sensitive ears, but he remains.

“Did you know, it's common lutes have as many as 12 courses?” Jaskier says, turning the peg until it feels right.

“Courses?” Geralt asks.

“Strings. Oh, I might need to get this little darling some new pegs eventually, and that string looks a little worn out. We will fix you up, love.” He coos at the lute, and he hears Geralt huff.

“Doesn’t yours have 13?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier looks up, surprised.

“They do, yes.” Jaskier looks down, and his hands suddenly feel a little clammy, his cheeks warm. “The most I have ever heard of is 35, which is ridiculous. One of my old masters in Oxenfurt has one with 19, but I find those are best suited for academic music, rather than music for the masses.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything else, and when Jaskier looks up, Geralt is smiling.

“What?” He asks, but Geralt just shakes his head.

“Just haven’t talked like this in a while. It’s nice.”

That… is not what he expected him to say. Truth be told, he is still a little hurt. He still hasn't received a proper apology from that outburst from Geralt on the dragon hunt, nor any kind of thanks for just dropping everything to come with him again.

“This is going to take a while,” Jaskier says hesitantly, when Geralt doesn’t say anything else, nor move. “Technically, I should look her over first, then tune, but ah, can’t blame a man for being excited, can you?”

Jaskier looks down, puts his tuning fork back inside his shirt, where it clinks against the ring, and puts both hands on his lute.

“I don’t mind. If you don’t mind me staying.”

This is so weird.

Geralt stays, and listens to Jaskier tuning his new treasure. It takes him almost twenty minutes to see that Geralt is holding another bag, most likely one with the requested clothing.

They will have to wait a little more, as Jaskier is getting into position and putting the lute strap over his shoulder.

His right hand already stings a little, the new skin not used to the sharpness of the strings. Jaskier plays a few scales to get to know her, and to get back into it. He plays a little ditty from his past, humming the familiar nonsense words of the warm up song of his early days in the academy.

They don’t know each other yet, but it feels good to play again.

Just because he can, and because he wants to show off a little, Jaskier decides to test her limits. An old lullaby, embellished by the academics and time, harmonies and contrast ringing out in the room.

He smiles, until his index finger stings, and he hisses and puts it in his mouth.

“You alright?” Geralt asks, sitting up straighter from where he finally was sitting on the chair by Jaskier’s desk.

“‘m good,” Jaskier says around the finger in his mouth. “Just a cut. New skin’s not tough yet.”

He takes the finger out, and inspects it. His fingers are red, and the small cut is bleeding a little more than it should. Even his cuts are dramatic, he hears his teacher say, an echo from a distant past in the back of his mind.

“...New skin?” Geralt asks, face blank, and Jaskier looks up at him. The good atmosphere in the room is changing, and for some reason Jaskier feels like it is his fault. It makes him feel a bit defensive.

“Yes, you know, after the old skin blisters after a bad burn? Haven’t played in some time either, so that probably makes it worse, I suppose.” Jaskier can’t help but prod, to see if Geralt will take notice.

“You didn’t tell me about the burn,” Geralt says, his mouth a thin line.

“You didn’t ask.” Jaskier says, laying both hands flat over the strings, looking at Geralt challengingly. Good mood is all but gone now, and he feels that old bruise makes itself known again. This time he is the one poking it.

“Usually don’t have to.”

“Maybe I got tired of our one sided friendship,” Jaskier says before he can stop himself. Fuck, that is not how he meant to say that.

By the looks of it, Geralt doesn’t take it too well either.

He stands up, staring at Jaskier as if he grew a second head.

“Tired?” He says, hands clenching and unclenching against his sides.

“When was the last time you called me your friend, Geralt?” Jaskier says, starting to get agitated. “When was the last time you asked me something, anything that didn’t directly relate to Yennefer, Ciri, or you needing me to do something? When was the last time you apologized, for anything you have said to me?”

Jaskier stands up and puts the lute down on the bed, lest he does something he regrets too. All the words are pouring out of him now, why risk breaking anything but his own heart?

“Maybe I grew tired of being the only one trying.” He grabs his handkerchief to stop the blood from his finger, clenching his hand hard around it.

“Why are you here then?” Geralt spits, and it’s like a slap.

“I ask myself the same thing every day,” Jaskier shoots back, finding himself taking a step forward. “Why am I here, when clearly nobody wants me to be?”

Geralt stares at him, and Jaskier can’t really tell what that expression is.

“Are you leaving?” Geralt asks through clenched jaws.

“Can’t. Apparently there are consequences for being broken out of jail. Especially when it happens to have been by someone like the White Wolf.”

This time, Geralt visibly flinches.

“Didn’t think about that, did you?” Jaskier says. “I was so glad you found me again, I didn’t give a damn about the consequences. I pretended we could start again, maybe you would want me by your side, walking next to you for once, not just trailing behind like some forlorn fucking puppy.”

Jaskier looks at his bed, looks at the oh so loved lute, that had seen so many sets of hands, every scratch and tear a part of a journey.

“Vesemir has allowed me to stay through the winter. Unless you’ve all got something against that. Let me know, and I’ll be on my way.”

Jaskier wishes he wasn’t in his room. Wishes he could just leave. Instead, he has to stand there like an idiot and wait until either Geralt does, or opens his mouth, for once.

“I didn’t realize…” Geralt begins but trails off.

“That actions have consequences, Geralt? That words do damage too? Did you learn nothing from your entire Butcher experience?”

That is a low blow, and he knows it, but he doesn’t feel like being nice right now.

It’s remarkable that Geralt hasn’t blown up at him yet, which in itself is probably not a very high standard to hold anyone against.

“You are still bleeding,” Geralt says eventually, and Jaskier looks down to see that he’s dropped his handkerchief. The witcher bends down and picks it up, grabbing Jaskier’s hand along the way.

Jaskier is too stunned to protest, and Geralt lifts his hand enough to inspect the cut. It’s not bleeding much anymore, but from where it’s placed, it is likely open easily.

Geralt pinches the tip of Jaskier’s finger with the handkerchief, and Jaskier suddenly flashes back to another room, another time when someone held his hand.

It takes effort not to just yank his hand back, his pulse rising and his palms getting clammy again. Geralt looks at him from under his brow, concerned, but Jaskier pinches his lips shut.

“Will you tell me about it?”

“About what?” Jaskier manages when Geralt breaks the stare to reach for some linen Jaskier has been using as bandages every now and then.

“What I missed this past year. How to be your friend. Where we go from here.”

Geralt makes a tight wrap around his finger, to the best of his ability. Not the best place for a bandage, but at least Geralt has experience.

“I can’t tell you where we go from here, Geralt. If you ask, I can tell you about the months since the dragon hunt, but the rest, you will have to figure out along with me.”

Geralt holds Jaskier’s hand in his for a moment longer, neither of them looking at the other. The witcher’s hand is not much larger than his. With a gentle thumb, Geralt moves Jaskier’s fingers, allowing him to see what the firefucker did to him.

“You and Eskel seem to get along,” Geralt says carefully. “Does he know?”

The corner of Jaskier’s mouth tugs upwards in half a smile. Geralt is fishing, but Jaskier won’t say unless there is an actual question.

“Some. He found a journal of mine that I thought I had hidden.”

Geralt frowns and releases Jaskier’s hand. It drops to his side, and they both just stand there in the middle of the room, looking anywhere but at each other.

“You don’t usually hide your songs.”

“It wasn’t a song book.”

“... Can I see?”

Fuck it, why not. Whatever is happening in this room tonight will change things either way.

The new hiding place isn’t really a hiding place, just the drawer in his desk. He hands Geralt the leather bound pages, and Geralt opens and looks through it.

At first glance, it looks like his economic books. Taking stock of things bought and sold, to who and where.

Geralt glances up at Jaskier, who just nods at the book again.

Flipping a few pages, Geralt starts to make connections. When he looks up at Jaskier again, his face is carefully blank.

“You are the Sandpiper.”

“I am.” Jaskier agrees.

“You smuggled elves out of the big cities.”

“Indeed. Don’t worry, I have taken precautions for if I’m not around.”

If he should be discovered. If he were not to come back.

“Jaskier, you are putting yourself at risk.”

“And so are you, every time you take a contract. Don’t you dare tell me it’s not the same.”

“So it’s for the money?”

Jaskier sniffs, glaring at the witcher.

“No. It’s for the people who don't have anyone else to turn to. Because when they run out of elves, they will find new targets. You can’t tell me you took every contract for the coin, I have seen you accept contracts for half of your rate if they can’t afford it.”

“Is that why your fingers were blistered?” Geralt asks.

“No. That’s… something else. Something I’d rather not talk about tonight, if you don’t mind.”

Jaskier knows that if he does, he will spend the rest of the evening wondering if he gave anything away, wondering where Rience is, who else he is burning because Jaskier got away.

Geralt gives the book back, and Jaskier places it back in the drawer.

“Rest your hand, Jaskier. Heal before you play again.”

The room is strangely empty when Geralt has left.

Jaskier sits on the bed, staring at his hands for a long while, until he finally decides to look at what was in the bag of clothes that Geralt brought, and Jaskier promptly forgot about in favor of the lute.

Looking through it,it seems like Geralt might have added a shirt of his own to Jaskier’s new wardrobe.

He shoves it to the bottom of the pile.

Jaskier doesn’t make it down to dinner that night.

After that day, things slowly progress in small steps.

Everything goes to shit, however, when Voleth Meir makes herself known.

Ciri’s body moves at the possessing demon’s will, and she manages to stab three witchers badly before the alarm is raised.

Yennefer wakes him up, pulling him from a dream into a nightmare. She needs him.

Somehow they always need him.

The powers channeled through Ciri’s small body are strong, destructive.

Jaskier is hiding under a table when a large creature steps through a portal, a creature he has never seen before. It sweeps at the witchers, and Voleth Meir laughs with Ciri’s mouth.

It takes Yennefer tearing open her veins for Voleth Meir to finally let go, for Ciri to free herself from the snares her mind had been tangled in.

With a scream, Ciri, Yennefer and Geralt disappear from view through a portal.

Jaskier sees Lambert land on his back, leg bleeding badly after a swipe from one of the creatures still roaming. He pulls him to the relative safety of his table, and tears his tunic enough to wrap Lambert’s leg.

“Thank you,” Lambert grumbles as he gets his bearings, the commotion in the room making it hard to hear. Jaskier just nods, tying the makeshift bandage off.

Finally, it’s over.

And somehow, Yennefer got her powers back.

The days after are a mess. One of the stabbed witchers doesn’t make it, and Ciri has been hiding in her room, guilt ridden, making herself as small as physically possible.

Geralt tries to coax her out, but he still has too little time, too many things to sort out. With her newly regained magic, Yennefer heals who she can, focusing on major injuries until she almost exhausts herself completely.

All the while, Jaskier is left to his own devices. Again.

Not that there is anything he can actually do for them. He isn’t medically trained, nor does have magical abilities.

It leaves him wondering how he survived the whole ordeal at all, and while he feels lucky about it, there is also a morsel of guilt.

So Jaskier finds himself knocking on Ciri’s door. She is reluctant to let him in, but with some honey cake bribes, she finally relents.

This, he knows. This, he can help with.

A young girl, plagued with guilt and fear, struggling to get a hold of herself and what she did, he knows how to help her.

“Not what you did. What your body did, under someone else's control.” Jaskier reminds her between bites. “I might not have gone through what you have, but I know what it is like to feel helpless. Fear and expectations don’t mix well, especially not when a murderous witch is involved.”

They talk a lot, mostly Ciri actually, and maybe they cry a little. After they finish their stolen cakes, and Jaskier has sworn not to tell Lambert, Jaskier brings out his lute to let Ciri play.

It seems she has a basic knowledge, plucking out the chords of a famous love song.

Sadly, not one that Jaskier had written, but at least it wasn’t one of Valdo Marx’s. Which he tells her.

And then she proceeds to play one of Marx’s love songs.

When Geralt finally joins them, Jaskier is chasing a giggling Ciri, who is hugging the lute close, calling her a traitor and a terrible little child, cursing Valdo for tainting her poor, innocent ears.

The first day Ciri dares to join them for breakfast, she hides behind Geralt. Both Yennefer and Jaskier hover, ready to step in between if anyone has anything to say.

They don’t.

Lambert is the first one to approach, bandage and limp both gone, Jaskier notes. He sits opposite of Geralt and Ciri, slamming his plate down, his fork rattling down across the table.

“Hey, it happens. What is a little mind control between friends?” is all he says, then digs into his food with the worst table manners Jaskier has seen in a while.

The tension breaks when Jaskier starts berating him for it, and is met with a mouthful of food telling him exactly where he can stuff his manners.

Ciri smiles when Eskel settles next to her, bumping their arms together.

The others make a toast to the lion cub among the wolves, the one who finally found a way to shut Lambert up. Even if it was by challenging him to stuff his mouth full enough to almost choke.

The first snow falls not long after.

The last letter has been sent, the last visit to the village by the foot of the mountains has been made, and those witchers unwilling to be stuck for the season have left.

It is colder than a grave hag’s asshole, as Eskel declares one day, with Coën immediately wanting to know why he knows that piece of information.

“I am a man of science,” Eskel grins and winks, and Lambert almost spits out his mead.

Ciri and Yennefer are slowly bonding, their first lessons taking place by the giant lake below the keep.

Jaskier takes care of his lute, works on new material, and with Vesemir and Eskel’s help, looks for new routes for the Sandpiper to take.

Geralt finds him more often now, seeking out his company rather than just tolerating it.

For a moment, Jaskier had expected him and Yennefer to fall back into bed as soon as the air was cleared, but if they have, they never said.

Instead, Yennefer spends more and more time with Ciri, trying to work out ways to control her power when they realize just how strong the young girl already is.

Sometimes they all do things all together.

They go ice skating.

They lose a snowball fight, pelted until they yell for mercy.

Jaskier finally learns of the hot springs, much to his outrage.

“You mean I could have dipped into preheated water all along?!” he yells, waving his arms around dramatically, and is rewarded when Ciri snickers, and Geralt bites down a smile.

It makes something in his chest soar.

The walls from the past year are slowly being torn down.

Deliberately so, in fact.

Piece by piece, Jaskier decides to let Geralt in.

It’s not perfect. It’s painful and it’s terrifying to let himself be open to hope again, to trust that there is friendship this time.

When Geralt learns about the firefucker, he is gone for an entire day.

Jaskier has no idea where he went, and he is feeling terribly vulnerable after talking about it, hands shaking and heart racing. Yennefer finds him outside her workroom, and she pulls him inside, cursing Geralt all the way.

“Let him sulk,” she says. “If he can make a hardship his fault, he will. When he gets his head out of his ass, he’ll come back.”

Later that night, Jaskier hears Yennefer rip Geralt a new one for leaving like that, when Jaskier clearly was shaken up and shouldn’t have been left alone.

Ciri learns about the firefucker days after, and angry tears roll down her cheeks when she realizes what Jaskier went through for her, even before they met.

They sit on the bridge outside the gates, feet dangling over the edge. The air is cold enough for their breath to fog, and Ciri’s slightly damp hair to freeze.

Jaskier thumbs her tears away and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“The whole world could be at my heels, and I would do it all again to keep you safe.”

“Sometimes, I just want the world to burn.” Ciri whispers, and Jaskier tucks her into his side.

Geralt calls him his friend now.

It’s good.

Jaskier gets to borrow a horse, and they go out riding in the snow around the keep. They argue about whose turn it is to do the laundry, and who is the worse cook.

When the window to Jaskier’s room breaks for reasons Lambert and Ciri swear up and down they know nothing about, Geralt simply moves him into his own.

The bed is wide enough for the both of them, which makes Jaskier think of who else might have shared it before him, but he pushes that thought down.

It has no place here, nothing to stand on.

They actually interact less after sharing a room, both of them needing their own space during the day.

They learned that after a vicious fight, where Geralt found all Jaskier’s sore spots once again and pounced.

“Do you ever tire of your own voice?!” he asked nastily, and that shut Jaskier right up.

He slept in the main hall for three days, until Geralt actually apologized.

After that first apology, the rest came a little easier.

They talked about what happened on the mountain. They talked about Jaskier’s past, and Geralt confessed that sometimes, since way before the dragon hunt, he thought Jaskier was only following him for the stories, for the fame it brought him.

It was Jaskier’s turn to apologize, for not seeing that, for not respecting privacy and boundaries set. He realizes he might have been blind to Geralt’s reactions to his songs, distracted with the fame their association granted them.

“But,” Jaskier says,”Not once would I have left you, even if you never lifted your sword ever again.”

To this, Geralt admits to how he always expects to be abandoned, or to be left behind.

“The thought of you leaving, or dying, it’s terrifying. I don’t think I could piece myself together again. So I left first.”

It’s like a kick in the chest, when Jaskier realizes.

That is the first night they actually sleep close on purpose. Geralt is a nasty little blanket thief, but Jaskier makes due by simply curling in close.

Midwinter comes, and a new year grows on the horizon. Darkness grants them a perfect view of the stars above, and the snow a blanket to let the world sleep.

Jaskier still is not allowed to join them on hunting trips, but he is getting good with a bow, under Vesemir’s sharp eyes.

Another sleepless night, another early morning, at the first light of dawn, when the first rays find their way through the dirty windows of Geralt’s room, that is when Jaskier dares to press a kiss to Geralt’s forehead.

Convinced that the witcher is asleep, he leans on his elbow, tracing a wild strand of hair behind his ear. It’s a quick kiss, dry lips against warm skin, making Jaskier’s entire body ache.

This is why he feared bringing down those walls. This is why he withstood the bruises, an armor to keep his heart at bay.

He doesn’t expect Geralt to open his eyes and gaze up at him. Doesn’t expect Geralt to wrap a hand around his neck and pull him down, pressing a kiss of his own to Jaskier’s forehead.

Resting against Geralt’s chest, Jaskier draws in a shaking breath.

“Ask me, Geralt.” He whispers into the dawning day.

“Do you love me?” Geralt whispers back, arms tightening around Jaskier’s back, pulling him closer.

“I do.” His voice wavers, eyes stinging. “Where do we go from here?”

“Wherever we want to. We’ll figure it out.”

“Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“Do you…?”

Jaskier doesn’t dare ask. Too scared of the question, even more scared of the answer.

Instead of replying, Geralt rolls them over.

Now he is the one leaning on his elbows, hovering inches from Jaskier. They are so close, he can feel every breath Geralt takes, see the pulse jump in his throat.

Instead of replying, Geralt kisses him.

A surprisingly chaste kiss, lingering and soothing and earth shattering and heart wrenching.

“I do.” Geralt whispers finally, lips brushing together. “Whatever that will do to us, I do.”

Come spring and the first visit to the village below the mountain, Vesemir finds him with ten envelopes and a small box.

The box is a set of strings and pegs and lute varnish they couldn’t get before the pass closed this winter. Most of the letters are from Pricilla, updating him on what is going on in Oxenfurt and the Sandpiper network, all well coded.

Jaskier realizes he can’t stay anymore.

The world around them is growing ever more restless and chaotic, and the only way to be prepared is to be out there.

Parting with Geralt is harder than it ever was before.

Being alone is dangerous, but being with them is even more so.

He has an organization to run. Stories to tell. Lies to spread.

During the winter, Jaskier came to realize how he can make a difference. On the road, with a lute on his back, in inns and taverns, the way he always did.

As they part, on a crossroad that finally will lead them to part, they stand next to new Roach and Pegasus, arms wrapped around each other and foreheads pressed together.

“Ask me,” Jaskier whispers.

“Won’t you tell me?” Geralt whispers back, making Jaskier huff and smile.

“I won’t make it that easy for you, witcher.” He teases, and Geralt steals a kiss, humming softly into it.

“So I’ll have to come find you then, and ask you to tell me again.” Geralt mumbles against his lips.

Jaskier will hold him to that.

Words held back until they meet again.

The road is long, and full of dangers.

Jaskier hopes it will lead him to Kaer Morhen once more.

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authorbettyadams · 1 month

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Flying Sparks - A Novel - A Lost Boy, A Freak Storm, An Alien Warrior, Two Worlds Colliding

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#ScienceFiction #SciFi #Book #Reading #BettyAdams

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https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/%22Betty%20Adams%22?Ntk=P_key_Contributor_List&Ns=P_Sales_Rank&Ntx=mode+matchall

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Signed

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chaoticmiserablelover · 2 months

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I'm currently reading Hell Bent, and at this point, I'm ready to bring Darlington from hell myself.

#leigh bardugo #hell bent #ninth house #alex stern #darlington #book characters #books and reading #hell is a teenage girl #slow build #dark academia #spoiler i guess

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fallingrealms16 · 4 months

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Sterek Fic Recs PART6 <333

i dont think im ever going to stop with these fic lists hehe they're to fun to make :) WELL HERE'S PART 6 ENJOY

1. The Hundred Mile Companion by Aceriee, PalenDrome (nerdherderette)

35K Words // Chapters: 1/1 // Hits: 26K // COMPLETED

//Explicit//

Stiles is hallucinating. He cracks open an eye. He's floating… no, not floating, because he's bouncing up and down, horizontal-like, the skyline above the trees growing closer, then more distant. There are hands holding him upright, cradling his upper back, his thighs. There's a face hovering above him, with a shock of black hair, and although Stiles is having problems focusing, the person looks good. Insanely, inhumanly good.

2. These Woods Sigh by blacktofade

80K Words // Chapters: 1/1 // Hits: 98K // COMPLETED

//Explicit//

Derek and Stiles never plan to start a family together, it just happens. Or, the one where Derek accidentally wishes for a baby.

3. His Only defence by LunaCanisLupus_22

78K words // Chapters: 14/14 // Hits: 637K // COMPLETED

//Explicit//

Stiles had just accidentally challenged an alpha. Oh God, and Scott had just stood by and let him do it. He was the worst best friend ever. Stiles was going to kill him. Except, oh right, the alpha was going to kill him first. Like beyond dead, ripped into tiny little pieces dead. So far dead that his dad would not be able to identify him, dead.

4. By Any Other Name by entanglednow

33K Words // Chapters: 1/1 // Hits: 488K // COMPLETED

//Explicit//

He doesn't know his name, he doesn't know who he is, and neither does the werewolf he's on the run with. But he's pretty sure they hunt monsters, because they seem to be really good at it.

5. Shaking the wings of their terrible youths by Daisyapples

29K Words // Chapters: 1/1 // Hits: 10K // COMPLETED

//Not Rated//

Stiles didn't expect much when he stopped a stranger being attacked in an alleyway. He didn't expect the wolf following him around New York, didn't expect the help when he was sick, didn't expect the psycho blond attacking him, or the place to stay. He didn't expect the new family. Oh, and he definitely didn't expect werewolves.

6. On my Way by Gia279

17K Words // Chapters: 1/1 // Hits: 9K // COMPLETED

//Not Rated//

Huge black paws smacked the window, followed by a fuzzy face smooshing up against it. He scrambled over the gear shift, tipping into the passenger seat. Bear, he thought hysterically. It had to be a bear, a freaking bear. A big pink tongue rolled out, lips pulling back as the creature panted.

7. I Just Wanna Be With You Every Day by Brego_Mellon_Nin

33K Words // Chapters: 8/8 // Hits: 106K // COMPLETED

//Explicit//

When his best friend’s son barrels into the kitchen only dressed in a pair of skintight jeans, lean but defined torso on display, Derek knows he’s truly and utterly fucked. Not only is the kid barely eighteen, but he also happens to be the Sheriff’s only son. Derek makes a vow to himself that he will not seek Stiles out and he’ll get this thing under control.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teen wolf cast #sad stiles #sad derek #sterek fanart #teen wolf season 1 #stiles fanfic #derek hale deserves nice things #stiles and derek #stiles x derek #void stiles #alpha derek hale #sterek fluff #slow burn #slow build

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snoozepotato · 1 year

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We’ll Be Fine -1- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

A/N: I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors I missed, characters may be a lil ooc because I just love big men being soft! Ghost brain rot since 2009🔥💀🔥 I AM SORRY!

she/her pronouns

Congratulations, I have gifted you a younger brother for this story!

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: swearing, eye contact, mild shenanigans

Masterlist

Summary: You arrive at base to pick up your brother, he does a terrible job at introducing you to his friends.

Part 1

~Kiddos~

Standing near the entrance to the facility you thoughtlessly bounced back and forth on the balls of your feet, an outlet for your slowly growing anxiety. ‘Technically’ you're a government employee, it’s complicated... Despite that being here leaves you feeling uneasy, most places like this still do.

After an extended deployment overseas your brother had finally returned home, and you had promised to cook him dinner. So here you are, waiting for him to make an appearance in front of the military base he currently calls home. It's been a dreary day but the dense clouds are parting, making way for a steady building sunset.

‘At least it’s not TOO cold,’ you suppose, allowing a false relief to wash over you. You were never very good at dressing for the weather, which comes with the ‘indoor person’ territory you radiated. What you lacked in physical prowess you made up for in technical abilities, at least that's what you tell yourself.

A brisk wind suddenly strikes your back, the thin sweatshirt just barely enough to stop nature's oncoming assault. Stuffing your hands into the front pocket, you fumble with your keys in an attempt to keep distracted.

‘Should have just waited in the car,’ brooding, you roll your eyes before catching sight of a group heading outside.

Curious eyes scanning the lot of them as they exit the building, spotting your brother's large figure somehow dwarfed by the hulking men beside him… Suddenly feeling very small.

Your eyes lock momentarily with a stranger's murky stare, deep brown orbs stricken gold by the fading rays of light. Dark grease paint smudging out the skin left exposed by his balaclava.

‘That's different,’ your thoughts halt, shoulders stiffening involuntarily realizing you're just staring at this man who you don't know. Quickly averting your gaze, attention shifting to greet your brothers steadily approaching figure.

Large hands grasped your forearms before pulling you into a crushing hug. Wrapping your arms around him stiffly, you let out a breathy laugh.

“This is my older sister, and I’m off to have a home-cooked meal,” he declares, snatching the keys from your hand and making a dash for the car. Abandoning you on the sidewalk.

“Debug,” you correct and turn to leave, attempting to place the now empty appendage back into your pocket but are stopped mid-motion.

Another lad seems to materialize in front of you, your small hand now clasped in his much larger one. Looking up you take him in for a moment, gray eyes cast in the warm light of the evening sun. Brown hair cropped into a short Mohawk, and a handsome stubbled jaw.

“Hello, lass, call me Soap,” The Scotsman gushes, your hand still loosely resting in his grasp. He shoots you a wicked smile resonating with a boyish charm.

Stony facade you'd been maintaining cracking in the slightest, gaze softening before retracting your hand. You turn, giving them a curt wave, a gentle smile. Enough socializing for one day!

“Bye kiddos,” Words stumble awkwardly out of your mouth before promptly following after your brother, who is waving you down from the now-open driver's side window. Mentally cursing yourself for being such a colossal dork…

“Kiddos,” Soap repeats blankly.

Having rushed off immediately after Soap's introduction, Ghost can’t help but wonder if they scared her… If he scared her.

They watch as she reaches for the passenger side door, car abruptly lurching backward leaving the handle just out of her reach. Very much unamused she is left standing there with a blank expression, arms slack.

Taunting laughter can be heard across the lot as the action is repeated twice more before she is finally allowed to enter the vehicle.

“Fuckin wanker,” Ghost irks scrutinizing the juvenile interaction.

“Feel kinda bad for her,” Soap chuckles

Thanks for reading <3

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codsoup · 8 months

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The Silent Connection / Ghost x Soap

Summary: Soap discards his sketches thinking they are bad but not bad enough for Ghost, who keeps them secretly.

Budding romance, fluff.

————-

In the quiet corners of their safehouse, Soap often found solace in his sketchbook. He would lose himself in the lines and curves, attempting to capture the world around him on paper. But not every sketch met his satisfaction. One day, after a particularly frustrating session, he crumpled up a handful of sketches that he felt didn't turn out well and tossed them into the bin.

Unbeknownst to Soap, Ghost had been watching from a distance. He had a keen eye, and even though the discarded sketches weren't perfect, he saw something in them: raw emotion, a glimpse of Soap's creative spirit. After Soap left the room, Ghost carefully retrieved the crumpled sketches from the bin, smoothing them out and arranging them in a neat pile.

Throughout the weeks, Ghost continued to collect Soap's discarded sketches, storing them in a hidden corner of his personal space. Each sketch told a story, even if it was just a fleeting moment captured in lines. Ghost cherished them, a secret connection to the man he admired more than he cared to admit.

One evening, while cleaning Soap stumbled upon a small stash of sketches he had discarded weeks ago. They were neatly arranged and smoothed out, a far cry from the crumpled paper he had tossed away. Curiosity piqued, Soap examined the sketches, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He recognized them, flawed as they were.

For a moment, he considered mentioning it to Ghost, but something held him back: a warmth in his chest, a flutter of gratitude that Ghost had taken the time to salvage what Soap had considered failures. Instead, Soap decided to embrace the unspoken connection, to keep this little secret between them.

Ghost, in turn, noticed that the discarded sketches hadn't reappeared in the bin. He wondered if Soap had somehow discovered what he'd been doing. Uncertainty gnawed at him, but he couldn't bring himself to ask.

One evening, as they found themselves sitting side by side after a long day, Soap picked up his sketchbook. He began to sketch, his fingers moving with purpose. When he was finished, he held up the sketch: a simple, yet beautiful representation of their safehouse.

Ghost's eyes widened in surprise. "Is that...?"

Soap nodded, a playful glint in his eyes. "Just thought I'd try something new."

Ghost couldn't suppress his smile. "It's incredible."

Soap leaned in closer, his voice a whisper. "Would you like to keep it?"

Ghost's heart raced, his emotions swirling. "Of course."

From that point on, Soap would occasionally create sketches for Ghost and would present them to him with a casualness that masked his underlying intentions. Ghost, in turn, would hold onto each sketch, cherishing the unspoken connection they shared.

As time went on, their safehouse became a gallery of secret exchanges, silent tokens of affection and understanding that only they knew about. Their bond grew stronger, deepening in ways that went beyond words.

In the quiet of their shared moments, Soap and Ghost found solace in their not-so-secret, secret: a testament to their genuine connection, nurtured by unspoken gestures and a shared appreciation for the art of keeping something special between them.

-------

These two 🤧🥰

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moonysbxtch0 · 7 months

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505

Part 9 : A word is a man’s honour

Summary: Professor Lupin confronts you about the prank but during it he also implies some things...

Pairing: Remus Lupin x werewolf student

Warnings : Teasing, sexual innuendos, sexual tension,blackmail( Remus trying to make reader do him a favour ,by finding the latter a Grindylow.)

Ao3 link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/39275319/chapters/117268138#main

<•>

"Who do you think did it?" Oliver crossed his legs as he faced you. The common room was pretty empty, only a few students were around, either studying, either chatting with their friends. You , Oliver and Percy had sat on the couch close to the fireplace, enjoying the warmth of the crackling fire.

"Must have been one of theirs." Percy frowned." Whoever did it , they're going to get expelled for sure."

"You think so?" Asked Oliver.

"Professor Snape demanded a meeting with the heads of the houses and from what professor McGonagall told me ,he was pissed and according to her he had every right to be. You know what they had written on the walls?" Oliver and you were waiting for Percy to talk. You knew exactly what he was going to say but were trying to act like you had no idea. Percy cleared his throat then spoke.

"And the quidditch game starts with Hufflepuff ,who always likes to play with class.

Then we have Gryffindor ,brave and loyal who always score.

Let's not forget ravenclaw , whose smartness always leads to a win.

And lastly but not least,yes we have Slytherin,bloodsupremacist little gits ,who always like to suck a bit of dick."

You felt your cheeks heating up,sure that seemed childish but a night before you and the twins found that pretty funny. Slytherin had managed to win a game against Hufflepuff and they had been bragging a lot about it eventhough they played dirty so it only seemed fit to write that on their wall.You had one problem that caused your heart to beat faster and make your whole being feel anxious. Professor Lupin knew that you were somehow related to that and if he as much spoke a word to Snape or Dumbledore,you and the twins would pack your bags and never step foot in Hogwarts ever again.

"I think that's pretty funny." Sneaking on his brother, George put Percy on a headlock and using his fist he rumpled his hair.

"George -" Percy was trying to get out of the headlock but couldn't.

"Percy got no sense of humour." Said Fred as he got in front of his brother, leaned forward and started tickling Percy to the point the latter couldn't stop laughing." Yes, that's how a normal person is supposed to react to that ' poem' ". Laughed Fred as he stopped ticking his brother and motioned to George to stop choking Percy.

"Idiots!" Huffed Percy as he stood on his feet angrily. "Let's go Oliver." The two of them left after bidding you goodnight and George sat on the couch, followed by Fred.

"Pretty funny eh?" Winked Fred. You took a deep breath and threw your head back , resting it on the couch."What's wrong?"

"Professor Lupin knows." You closed your eyes as you exhaled loudly.

"Knows what?" Asked George.

"That I was related to the prank. He asked me to go to his office tomorrow."

"Come on ,you must have misunderstood his words. He can't know,we used the invisibility cloak. Probably you did something that upset him or I don't know..." You pinched the tip of your nose and then faced Fred.

" Oh and Y/N...I forgot to mention but tomorrow I will be expecting you in my office. Something related to your late night walks...is what he said to me a few hours ago. He knows."

"Shit!" They both said at the same time .

<•>

Your leg was bouncing like crazy from anxiety as professor Lupin explained the lesson about inferi. You were biting the inside of your cheek so hard that it felt like you would draw blood from it. Your eyes were glued on the professor but your mind was elsewhere... would he snitch on you?After all the talk he said about you being his favourite student he wouldn't be that mean, would he?Wait... everytime he made eye contact with you it didn't feel any different from the normal...maybe he had forgotten. That would be a miracle that you would thank Merlin for every single day.

"That's it for today. " The professor clapped his hands and smiled."Don't forget to hand the essay on inferi in two weeks. If you have any questions don't hesitate to ask." Nobody asked any questions and the professor nodded." All right. I truly hope you understood everything. With that you're free to go." He motioned at the door with his palm. Maybe this was your chance...blend with your friends and leave without being noticed. You packed your stuff as fast as you could and hurried to the door ,the second you stepped foot outside the door you heard a voice that made you freeze on the spot.

"Not so quick Y/N." A few students were bumping into you as they passed." Back inside,I will be waiting for you in my office."Soon enough he disappeared from the view and in a matter of seconds you found yourself alone between four walls. Slowly you made your way to his office,the door was open. The professor had sat on his chair,arms folded on his chest,eyes on his watch , eyebrows furrowed.

"Ehm... Sir?" You made your presence known.He titled his head up and locked eyes with you ,a small smile on his face.

"About time Y/N. What took you so long?" He smiled as he licked his lower lip. You didn't speak. It felt as if someone had tied a knot down your throat. Yep. You felt guilty,that was the cause if your inability to talk. "Hmm no words? " He stood up from his chair, rounded his desk and approached you slowly,hands on his pockets." Maybe I can help you find the reason?" As he kept walking closer and closer , on instinct you took a step back. He wrapped a firm hand on your wrist and pulled you close to himself,the back of your hand was flushed against his chest and you could feel the way his heart beat rhythmically. You heard the door close behind you and confusingly stared up at him."I'm not going to bite you Y/N , no need to stay that far." His tone was low and you found it hard to swallow again yet you were sure this time it wasn't because of your feeling of guilt. Something was wrong with your body...you could feel the temperature on it raise a few degrees and your heart was beating fast.

"I wasn't..." Your tone was low and seemed shy. Not like your usual self at all.

He chuckled and flashed you a toothy smile."You weren't staying far or you didn't do something you weren't supposed to?"

FUCK. He definitely knows and he definitely hadn't forgotten." Be more specific about the second part, professor."

"Playing dumb...is that what we're doing?" He manoeuvred your arm , using his hold on your wrist and brought it close to you , smacking you with your own hand on top of your head a couple times , jokingly." Think Y/N , think."

You closed your eyes with every smack and the chuckle he let out made you realise that he found the whole interaction entertaining.This wasn't funny...at all. Your career was on his hands and thinking of a chance that he would snitch on you made you feel nauseous.

"How did you even know it was me?"You locked eyes with him and he smiled. The nerve this man had...

"Let's not forget your accomplices ,the Weasley twins. It's selfish to take all the credit to yourself." It fell like a bomb on you.What in the Merlin's left ball?! How the fuck did he know about the twins as well?!He smacked your head jokingly one more time and let your palm rest there,he still didn't remove his hand from your wrist.

"Fuck..." You muttered.

"Fuck indeed." Your eyebrows raised in suprise. This was the first time you heard professor Lupin cuss." You almost got caught... would have if another professor was on patrol duty."

"Yet we didn't. I got no idea how you figured out that we were involved but you have no proof. Nobody's going to believe you." You furrowed your eyebrows at him and your lips parted. His eyes dropped to your lips and lingered there for a few seconds.

"Are you sure about that?" He locked eyes with you yet again. "I promise you professor Snape is mad to the point he wouldn't mind breaking a few rules and use Veritaserum on you three..." The professor titled his head to his left and had a cocky expression to his face. The worst part is that he's right,Snape would definitely do that and you would get expelled over a small prank.

"Well-" you tried to move your hand from your head because your arm was starting to get numb. His grip was firm so with a smooth flick of your wrist you managed to turn the tables and this time you were the one who had gripped his wrist." Are you going to tell on us?" Your eyes were piercing his whole being yet the professor didn't seem intimidated at all.

"Don't get me wrong,I was a student myself once as well." He turned the tables again and this time he clasped your hand with his and slammed your hand on the door,your body moving with it , completely caging you there.Was this normal? Of course not. You've caused troubles more times than you can count yet no professor tried to be this close to you while scolding you. Mostly because they were afraid of you also because they had boundaries with their students." As a professor however, I'm afraid that I'm supposed to do something." He licked his lips as he stared down on you,the small action making your abdomen clench.

"Do you always scold your students while caging them against a door ,professor?" It wasn't that you didn't like it. You had started fancying professor Lupin since the begining yet the thought of him doing this exact thing to someone else made your blood boil.

"Only the ones I like." His thumb was forming patterns on your wrist. The way his eyes darkened made the animal inside of you go feral. Full moon still needed a few more days so the fact that she was coming to surface so soon wasn't a good thing.

"I wonder who's going to leave faster from this school. Me, because you rat me out to Snape or you, because one day one of these other students you like does something innapropropiate to you and of course given that you're the adult, you're the one that gets fired."

Your tone reeked of jealousy and you didn't like that at all. Why? You've dated Oliver and he was popular around here ,all the girls threw themselves at him yet never once did you feel jealous. Oliver would even flirt with them once in a while to get a reaction out of you but you never got jealous.When it came to the man in front of you on the other hand ,you couldn't even hide this ugly emotion.The professor let out a dark chuckle that electrified your whole body. Oh the effect this man had on you.

"I think we both know that you're the only student I like." Now, this sentence had many meanings yet you didn't want to misinterpret it and make a fool of yourself. Hold up...this could be your escape card. He had told you a few times that you're his favourite student so you could use that in your advantage." But my question is, would you be willing to get me fired?" Heis voice dropped a few octaves lower and he leaned closer to you,his nose brushed against yours for the shortest moment. It felt like a spark of fire was lit in the center of your chest then in a matter of seconds a huge wave of fire engulfed your whole body. He didn't just say what you thought he did?! Sure , if he was down for it...so were you..." Just joking, no need to be that terrified." He leaned back and smiled.

"I-" I wasn't, that's what you were going to say but he stopped you before you could say anything.

"We've moved completely out of topic.Back to me doing something about what you did two nights ago."

He let go of your hand and created some space between the two of you.He ran his hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head. The first thought you had ,was to grab him by his tie and kiss him like it was the last day on this earth. He was so handsome,his messy hair and that expression on his face made it very hard to control yourself,yet you didn't. You didn't have the balls to. Plus he did say that he was joking,you didn't want to make a fool of yourself and add more things to get you expelled.

"Does that something involve you telling Professor McGonagall what we did and at the end of the day me and the twins pack our stuff and leave?"

One thing about professor Lupin is that he was the most confusing person you've ever met. You were good at reading people yet you've never been able to read him. He nodded in refusal as he smiled.

" Nothing of the sort. I think we can come to an agreement. You run a small errand for me and I won't say a word about you being involved in that prank." Something reeked in here and this time it wasn't your jealousy…

"What kind of errand?"

"You see , I'm quite busy this weekend and ..."

"No can do this specific weekend." You stopped him.

"Is that so?" He put his hand on the left side of his chest and gripped his shirt " It pains me to tell poor ol' Minerva that the ones who pissed Severus so much were students from her own house. She's not going to take it well."

"You play dirty." You furrowed your eyes at him and gave him a stare filled with annoyance.

"You've got no idea just how dirty I can play to get what I want Y/N." He stared at you and his eyes did that again, change their colour from blue to a shade of gold. It was futile to try and convince him to change the day of his errand so with an eye roll you asked.

"What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to find me a Grindylow."Was he mental?! A fucking Grindylow?!

"Those things live on the lake. How do you expect me to find you one?"

"I am sure you will manage. " He folded his arms on his chest and smiled.

"I think I would rather get expelled than die..."It was worth the attempt to play this card.

"Well ,in that case pack your bags and let me accompany you to the train station." He caught his lower lip between his teeth as he grinned. Out of everyone on this school... not only did you fancy the one person you could never have but you also fancied the biggest jerk to live.

"Sometimes I really question myself if it was truly a good thing that you came to teach here this year." You rubbed your eyes in annoyance." I'll do it." You locked eyes with him again.

"Pleasure doing business with you." He put his hand for you to shake and you gritted your teeth before clasping your own with his.

"I can say the same as long as you stay true to your word." You gripped his hand as hard as you could yet he showed no indication that he was in pain whatsoever.

"A word is a man's honour." He had a hint of laughter in his voice as he spoke." See you around,Y/N."

Part 10 : https://www.tumblr.com/moonysbxtch0/742142713346113536/505

#eventual smut #harry potter #professor remus lupin #remus lupin #remus x you #slow build #eventual relationship #fluff and humor #older man younger woman #professor x student #remus lupin x reader

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lilacxquartz · 30 days

Text

Those Late Summer Nights | Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader x Suguru Geto | Yandere

Moving to the city from a small town was no easy feat, especially to start teaching as a jujutsu sorcerer.

Quickly socially adopted by your prospective colleagues over the summer as you settle in, you begin a slow descent into a life filled with unwanted attention and obsession.

And not just from one person either.

⚠️ NOTE ⚠️ This is a slow burn dark yandere fanfic which starts off innocent enough to set the scene and the story, but it isn’t a regular fic. Only proceed if you’re comfortable with reading something with potentially upsetting content, the trigger warnings will be listed each time if needed. However, since it is a slow burn, it takes a while before it all goes wrong for the reader.

Themes: yandere, dead dove do not eat, non-con elements, angst, boundaries will be pushed to uncomfortable limits, naive reader, manipulation, abusive elements all will apply at some point, reader insert, second person pov, this is also canon divergent, meaning that geto isn’t in his bad timeline just yet and is a teacher just like you.

FINAL WARNING! Even if it starts off just fine, it’s all a facade.

✨ Updated every Wednesday | also posted on ao3 under the name lilac_quartz

Chapter 1: Goodbye.

Ever since the days of your childhood, you could see things that weren’t otherwise visible to anyone else lurk in the dark or simply just linger around people like parasites.

At often times, these creatures would parrot the person they were shadowing, somehow perfectly resembling their true selves in the form of a grotesque caricature.

You quickly learned that this ability for being able to perceive such creatures wasn’t the norm and as such, your parents quickly caught on. Your mother told you fairly early on into life that you had a gift and it skipped every other generation on her side, so if you truly desire a normal life… then to just simply ignore it.

It was surely difficult, though.

For a while, you tried to live your life as normally as you could. You went to a normal school, tried to have normal friends and did your best to bury the ability to see things that you perhaps had no business seeing as time went on.

However, your gift was scouted out relatively quickly in a nearby school for special people just like yourself. It called itself a jujutsu school and the one in your area was one of the smaller ones in the country, meaning that you were the only student in your entire year and the only remaining two third years were gone by your second year with no fresh enrolments.

And when the time came to graduate, you did so alone as the only student sorcerer in the school.

The campus to your school wasn’t as greatly funded as the other schools so it didn’t quite have accommodation so you couldn’t really live there. This was apparently common in less populated areas.

Despite this, it felt like a blessing to leave your small town everyday and to simply just explore on field trips with your teacher. She was relatively young, she could have been your older sister as far as ages went and she did her best to make you feel included as a person, sympathising with you that this is indeed a lonely route in life at times but it’s all for something so much bigger.

But that wasn’t the reason you felt so alone.

There was another problem that resided in your town and it wasn’t loneliness, nor was it the fact that the town itself was polluted with generational problems — there was the problem of your lifelong childhood bully who simply did not like you and as such, made your life a living hell from the moment you could understand words.

If she hadn’t been human, she could have made a good cursed spirit. There was something incredibly off about her, something so twisted and perfectly vile, reflected and validated by the cursed spirits that hovered around her.

The town itself was crawling with them too; the town hall, the local hospital, the two schools and even certain houses harboured at least the simple ones. They weren’t dangerous, but they were there and keeping them around wasn’t doing anyone any good either.

Had you cared just a little bit more, you would have done something about it, but this town wasn’t kind to you and you weren’t going to be nice to it either.

Was that petty?

It sounded perfectly fair to you, even if you didn’t admit it to anyone. Your teacher told you that you were studying and learning how to be a sorcerer to protect people, to create a balance in this world, so technically you should have been exorcising those things in your free time.

As sad as it sounded also, she was also your only friend by the time you had reached graduation, too. You graduated from that place with the intention of becoming something similar, hoping to be someone’s support in what was an unforgiving and isolating life.

She helped you with everything beyond that point too, wanting to help you leave this place and explore your potential. She handled the references and getting your name to the right people, but still, it was starkly silent and you remained dormant for just a couple years more than you should have been after finishing school.

You hoped to land something in the bigger cities though, so you never backed down from the beginning. You knew that the cursed spirits that resided those were often worse and more intelligent, that the people there were simply just more complex, but that was besides the point—you wanted to get away from home as fast as you could, as far as you could.

Living at home in the sticks with your parents that were distant to you ever since you convinced them to let you go to that alternative school in a town under the spiteful eye of someone who understood perfectly well that there was something about you… wasn’t that great of a deal.

Especially after what she did back then.

The night that she went too far.

So, one could only imagine your relief and maybe some shock, when out of all of the places that could have taken you in for a teaching position, it was for Tokyo.

Your eyes stared at the letter for the longest time when it happened. You thought it was a prank at first, but it all seemed perfectly legitimate. Apparently your former teacher was hard at work to help you out and as it turned out, teachers with support-centric techniques were surprisingly in demand.

The letter recommended to move after the summer term had ended to get yourself set up and established, especially if moving from a place so far away. The school budget paid the teachers a minimum monthly salary due to some type of sorcerers’ union, so even if you were out of work for the summer, getting by shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

All you had to do was make it past the first month on your savings.

You were determined to make it work.

The moment that it was all set up and confirmed, you didn’t even look back. You thanked your parents for letting you stay and for not being too against your life, ready to head out and begin anew.

It would be different this time after all, you didn’t have to be the person you were before.

You could begin anew.

***

Upon arriving in Tokyo, it was admittedly a struggle with finding your bearings in such a crowded and bustling place. Your old school was nearby a city and you’d often go there for field trips, but it was nowhere near to this magnitude.

You were met at the train station by a jujutsu assistant. To your understanding, these were people who couldn’t quite make the cut as sorcerers but they were just as valuable with getting everything set up and done. Your old school had one too, but their job was simply to get you from your house and to the campus as well as the other way around.

This one on the other hand was absurdly helpful, their stature and tone laced with a certain type of professionalism that you didn’t think was possible; they not only drove you to the campus, but they also took their time to explain the layout, the facilities and even told you that you have a right to use the on-site accommodation over the summer if you didn’t quite having a living situation figured out just yet.

You didn’t, to their credit. You were about to live your first month out in a cheap hotel and hope for the best… so this was absolutely a step up in a better direction, at least as a temporary fix.

As such, you took that offer right away, not really thinking about it. It would make do for now, at least. You would be alone for the duration of it, but you didn’t quite care about that because you were already used to that to a degree.

Moving in as a result was easy enough; you chose the bedroom closest to the kitchen and bathroom, not bothering to explore the rest of the rooms because that’s all you needed.

You moved in a little earlier than the letter encouraged you to do so, but it was apparently fine to do so. As such, you were there right as the summer break had actually started so the existing teachers would be available to meet before they’d be excused for the holidays.

In a way, this thought mildly terrified you even if you were encouraged by the assistant to do so, to just get an idea of the types of people you’d be working with. You harboured some mild social anxiety from your isolated way of life and your main fear was coming across as strange in a way that was off-putting.

This was a high school so you fretted about it more than you should. What if your technique was lame? What if you came across as uninteresting? Did the teachers have cliques here or did they not care about such trivial matters?

Sorcerers were often weird themselves, so they were probably used to the latter.

Hopefully.

***

It took you a couple of days to get settled in and you took those moments to get used to the campus, mapping it out in your mind so that you could avoid getting lost wherever you had to be on your first day. The last thing you wanted to do was to mess up in front of your students, of course.

You also got used to using the nearby bus line that was close to the campus. The travel card itself was heavily discounted, just one of the many perks supposedly and you got used to small frequent trips to go and get groceries just as some strange form of exposure therapy.

Come Friday, or rather the final Friday, it was time to get to know who you would be working with. You being nervous was the understatement of the century. You always knew that you would end up at least somewhere to be a jujutsu teacher, but all of the big shots were in Tokyo and that’s who you would be working with.

The gathering point was in a standard staff lounge. The room itself was beige both in flooring and the surrounding walls had a few sofas stacked against them. There was otherwise a kitchenette further into the room with a coffee machine that apparently was labelled as defunct, despite the lingering smell of it going strong in the room.

The head of the school, Yaga as you had come to know him as, was the first person you met beyond that room. He didn’t let you say too much before he would lead you off to a group of people and throw you right in the middle of the conversation they were otherwise having.

As such, the anxiety began to fester.

You tried to keep your cool, though.

“These two,” he began to speak up as he pointed to a tall white-haired man and another with longer pulled back black hair, “are your two official colleagues, you’ll be taking on the same students as a whole but you will be assigned individual cases based on your abilities.”

Both seemed to be around your age, which both comforted and unsettled you all at the same time

The white haired man was the first to interact with you as he drew out his hand to shake as you awkwardly scrambled to meet him halfway. His vibrant blue eyes were certainly unique, you thought.

“Pleased to meet you,” he spoke, his tone was playful and yet professional, “I’m Satoru Gojo, you can call me as you’d like.”

You have heard of that name before, at least the clan name. There were certain details that reached even your small school and you were aware of the major sorcerer clans at the very least.

“Suguru, Geto.” The black haired man added on, his handshake more curt and to the point.

A woman between the two of them cleared her throat, throwing a narrowly pointed stare at the principal and extended her hand to you as well. Yaga muttered something under his breath to her as he walked off, leaving you behind with three completely new people.

She had shoulder length brown hair and slight eye bags that occupied her face. She rolled up the sleeve to her white coat to comfortably shake your hand as well.

“I’m Shoko Ieri. Just call me Shoko, feel free to call these two by their first names too. They won’t mind, nor care.” She said as she introduced herself to you.

“I’m [name],” you nodded along as you introduced yourself, unsure what to really say beyond that point, “the new supportive techniques teacher, I suppose.”

“Ah, I heard we were getting someone new in that department.” Satoru said, his eyes scrolling up and down your body, leaving you feeling a little exposed.

“I’m the campus doctor so not really a teacher,” Shoko added along, “Satoru handles most of the students, Suguru helps train others with things like hand to hand combat and sword fighting.”

“Looks like we’ve finally got a solid facility.” Satoru smiled, throwing his arms around his two colleagues. You assumed that they were all good friends, something that you envied.

“So where are you from?” Shoko asked.

“Oh, I’m from a town further north in the country.” You replied, feeling just a little nervous for admitting it. You wondered if you should have just said you were from a city up north instead.

“How are you finding the big city?” Satoru almost teased, his teeth flashing through his playful grin.

“Exhausting,” you admitted with a small smile, your eyes trailing onto the ground as you mulled over your answer, “but I like it.”

“You’ll get used to it.” He smiled before going off to pay attention to his other friend, seemingly concluding that brief interaction with you.

Shoko stared at him for a moment as she did so before turning her sights back to you.

“Hey, so we’re going out for drinks, nothing too serious, maybe you should come along?” She asked, her tone was friendly but it didn’t seem fake.

You considered it as you looked at her for a moment. You weren’t really the drinking type as you simply never had the opportunity to do so; your parents never kept alcohol at home and you didn’t have the friends to go sneak off and get it elsewhere growing up.

“Please, you’d be doing me a favour,” she spoke up again in a more lighthearted manner, noticing your hesitation, “it would be just me and these two otherwise.”

“I could.” You nodded along to it, after all. If you were going to be leaving your comfort zone, then you had to actually take a step out of it if the opportunity arose, which it did here.

“Great,” she smiled, pulling your hand along with her as she caught up to the other two, “if you’re going to be working with these two, you might as well get to know them.”

The two men didn’t say anything but they did make room to include you as they walked along beside you. You felt some discomfort as a result, as if you were a fourth wheel somehow intruding on a perfectly established dynamic.

You walked along in relative silence as you tried to keep up with some desperation as the streets quickly became more and more crowded. To your comfort, Shoko never once let go of your wrist and pushed through the masses with you in tow, telling you to just stare straight ahead because making eye contact with people only slows them down, to focus on that building right at the end of the road because that’s where you’re all going.

You listened to her words and took everything she said seriously as the bustle quickly got too overwhelming, finding that it surprisingly worked and as such, quickly found comfort in her company because she was the first person aside from your teacher to give you a chance.

You even sat next to her when you got to the bar as the two others went elsewhere, to get drinks from what it looked like.

“Shoko’s hogging the newbies again,” Satoru pouted as he came back with a few bottles of booze as his friend brought over even more, “always getting to know them before we do.”

“You’re not exactly an easy person to get to know,” she replied as she poured herself a drink, pouring one for you right after, “besides you left immediately, what were you expecting?”

“For my grand charm to kick in and let the law of attraction do its work?” He laughed as he settled into his seat, seeming a little tired from what you could gather.

“So hopeless,” she replied as she took a swig from her glass, “you talk too much about yourself, and you don’t talk talk enough—someone has to be the middleman, right?”

“I do talk, though?” Suguru replied as he quietly poured himself a drink.

“You’ve said the least so far, to be fair.” Satoru piled on.

“The newbie isn’t talking much either.” He shrugged as he took a sip.

“That’s what the drinks are for,” Satoru smiled, “everyone’s talkative after a few.”

You suddenly felt as though it was now your queue to drink, but you didn’t really know what to expect from it but you tried your best and still managed to sour your face as you got into it, getting a couple of stifled laughs from the seats opposite.

“Take a big sip and then force it down,” Shoko said, “it gets easier as time goes by.”

You nodded as your cheeks quickly grew red from embarrassment.

“So, you said you were from the north right? Just how far up north?” Satoru asked as he leaned in, a little too suddenly interested in you after seeing you couldn’t hold your drink.

“Just… far enough… I guess…” You replied, your eyes slowly drifting off to the table as you felt less and less enthusiastic about sharing where you were from.

“You don’t sound too happy about that place,” Suguru observed as he replied to you directly, “that bad?”

You nodded a little as you made brief eye contact with him, talking yourself into drinking more for the sake of getting out of your bubble.

“[name]?” Satoru asked as he leaned in, completely ignoring the conversation that was otherwise happening.

“Yes?” You asked, suddenly caught just a little off guard from the tone he used. It was somehow accusatory and you weren’t looking forward to whatever happened next.

“I mean this politely, but is this your first time drinking?” He continued to ask.

You gulped down your embarrassment and decided to just go along with it, after all. You knew that it would only look worse for you in the long run if you made a big deal out of such things.

“I-I didn’t really get the chance to do that back home.” You tried to reply, laughing a little at yourself and hoping for the best.

“Really? I wouldn’t imagine that there’s much else to do in a small town, especially one that you’re not too fond of.” He replied, talking a little louder as the alcohol settled in his body.

“I mostly just existed there, I guess.” You said in a tone that was a little too sombre, quickly surrendering to another sip of the liquid comfort. To your peripheral vision, Suguru seemed to paying just a little more attention to you now but you weren’t sure if you were simply just imagining things.

You watched with both comfort and unease as Shoko topped off the glass that you barely finished as the others were by now onto their third glasses and then imitated a gesture of how you’re supposed to drink with her hand, expecting you to follow.

You sighed as you did so, perhaps it was some right of passage that you simply had to follow along. The drink felt sharp in your throat somehow, more so than before. It did wake you up though and to your embarrassment, you felt just a little buzz after it had finally settled.

“Attagirl,” she cheered you on as she patted your back with some pride, “see, you need to pick your poison in a place like this, otherwise it’s gonna burn you out.”

“That why you drink so much and smoke a pack a day?” Satoru teased her, leaning over the table and fishing out a pack of cigarettes from her coat pocket.

“Hey,” she replied as she smacked his hand away, “you’re saying that like you’re not the cause for it.”

“I can’t possibly be that bad enough to give you both a drinking and smoking problem.” He said as he resigned back into his seat.

“Nah, she’s right.” Suguru agreed with Shoko.

“Really?” He asked in a fake exasperated tone, not seeming too surprised about the teasing.

“Are you actually surprised?” Shoko laughed as she topped you up once again.

They continued to laugh and joke with each other, finally relaxing within your company and you finally didn’t feel like such a fourth wheel even if you weren’t contributing much.

You finally also then took hold of your third drink and stared it down with such determination that Satoru even drummed his hands on the table as you were about to drink it. Shoko did the same and Suguru was the last to join.

When you finally downed it without making a face that time, you finally felt relaxed enough to smile and laugh with the rest of them as your milestone was finally met.

Maybe this was it.

Maybe, just maybe, it was finally getting better.

(But if only you knew.)

Next chapter.

#yandere x reader #dark fanfiction #dark fic #fanfic #yandere jjk #yandere suguru geto #yandere satoru gojo #yandere gojo #yandere geto #mdni #jjk dark content #jjk yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere fantasy #slow burn #slow build #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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