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dufferpuffer · 13 days

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Ok but what are some ways Lupin would be a good partner (yknow when he’s not being passive aggressive or leaving at the first sign of conflict)?

Remus Romantic Partner pt2: Remus is good Link to pt1: Remus is needy Link to pt3: Shipping, I guess (not done)

Ok, so part 1 made him sound pretty bad. Because he is. Cope. But he isn't a useless pit of toxicity that demands people work hard for the privilege of tapping his ass

He just thinks poorly of himself. He can't imagine a scenario where he is enough for someone - so he doesn't bother looking for anyone. But he cares deeply about people.

Deep enough that he would rather hurt people by leaving than risk injuring by staying. He is a good man that thinks he is a monster. He pretends to be good, without understanding that he is good... without realizing that pretending is what's making him bad. Perhaps he does realize, and he doesn't know how to stop. He doesn't know what else to do.

In Short: Remus Lupin offers WISE SUPPORT. 1. Empathetic; Understanding; Comforting. 2. Helpful; Thoughtful; Doting 3. Affectionate - but not Clingy. 4. Prepared and Careful. 5. Socially skilled; Aware and sharp. 6. Adventurous. Makes everything FUN. 7. Nurturing; Attentive - Great with kids

In Long:

1. Empathetic; Understanding; Comforting. ~He's an Empath~ He grew up watching his parents struggle to care for him, but put on a brave face to keep him unaware. That gave him the toxic habit of doing the same - and helped to develop his ability to read people.

It is hard to lie to him. It is hard to hide feelings from him. But you don't need to - because he understands others better than himself. He has experienced much in his short life. Grief, pain and mental struggles especially. He knows well that sometimes things are impossible, that help doesn't exist. He is well versed in it.

You don't need to be the epitome of mental health to handle him, just because his mental health is garbage. You just need to be stable enough to be a rock in his river. He can calm down anxieties, talk you out of a panic attack, comfort any depression, walk through any grief... maybe he isn't as sturdy as a rock, but he is the comfiest, warmest, coziest blanket. He can't be trapped he can drop everything to support someone. The idea of Tonks' pregnancy, of fatherhood, was too much for him. It was going to trap him in a world where he wasn't going to be good enough and everything would be horrible all the time - so it would hurt everyone less if he left. But he wouldn't have left her due to grief at her fathers death. He has lost people before, and something like grief isn't trapping. It's something he can help soothe.

Remus is good for people who have struggles of their own. He is overflowing with his own experiences of loss, struggle and chronic illness - and has a thirst to help and be soothing.

Moreover, he is a Compassionate Hypocrite: Anything similar to himself he is kind, forgiving and accepting of in others... even if he loathes it in himself. Even lycanthropy, going to sit with the lonely werewolf at the hospital... he isn't even angry with Greyback for biting him.

He can forgive any illness, any weakness, any trepidation, any poor coping strategies, any cowardice... And maybe he shouldn't sometimes. The more the relates, the more supportive he is - because that's what he yearns for... and feels he doesn't deserve. ((like dumbledore.)) Run away from the world when the pressure is too heavy? Yeah. He gets that. No friends because you always keep emotional masks on? He is lonely, too. You can mask off together. Depressive spirals where you can't eat or bathe? He doesn't think that's shameful. He knows how to cope. Chronically ill? Fatigue, pain, nausea, mood swings? Ha.

2. Helpful; Thoughtful; Doting Thrives on looking after people. It's his favourite activity. (I HC he spent alot of time as a child at home caring for his mother as she got sick with stress raising him, and some of his best memories are making her laugh, cuddling with her at her worst - and dancing with her at her best.) When you, or anyone, gets sick - he is an angel. He knows every remedy to ease pain, quell nausea, induce sleep... or just dotes.

He enjoyed being a teacher (Professor is a title he adored wearing) but he would also be happy as something like a house husband: Cleaning, shopping, handiwork, cooking meals, loving his partner when they get home from work - doing things in his study when he has free time... one form of an ideal lifestyle for him. He likes a role of minor leadership, like being in-charge of a classroom or a house. His own space to own and rule. A territory.

He enjoys chores! Simple active/magical tasks that distract his thoughts - that he can't do when he feels sick, so he relishes them when he is well. He keeps himself busy being 'useful'. He likes clean and tidy. He packs things to be space efficient. He can accept a little chaos, however - he isn't neat-freak. He is great to have around if you're busy, or are often out, or just struggle doing things like tidying up. He loves the dopamine hit of a clean kitchen, of sorted laundry - of doing something right.

I've talked about him being soft and domestic, but I do want to note: A physical safe place to transform + comfortable places to rest ARE important to him... but the true stability he needs isn't being inside a house - It's having a partner that will always accept him, even when he fucks up.

3. Affectionate – but not Clingy Intimacy, like sex, might be a challenge for him (1500 words) but he loves being close, cuddling - always touching, patting, holding... Leaning on each-other, laying on your lap, having you lay between his legs as he lays on the couch, reading a book and stroking your hair...

Sleeping together most of the month is sleeping in a tightly coiled bundle, for better or for worse. Before the Full Moon he is grumpy and woken easily - so he sleeps elsewhere. (or you sleep elsewhere and give him the bed. He needs it.) Post-Full Moon, when he is exhausted and sore: He'd appreciate it if you held him all day. Please.

He doesn't even mind PDA... after a hurdle: For a time he won't want anyone knowing he is in a relationship – and even when they DO know, for awhile he wants to hide the nature of it. Barely even holding hands or standing next to you. But once the hurdle is passed (and he has been told half a million times that you're cute together) his affection comes through. Holding hands, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, sitting right next to you, kissing your forehead or cheek or even lips. This is because his goal has changed: At first he was convincing himself he could leave at any time. Then he is convincing himself he will stay forever. Both hopeful lies.

But if you need a couple of weeks to focus on your thesis? If you need to go away for a month for work? That's alright.

As long as you don't disappear without a word (like he does) he can't bring himself to be that much of a hypocrite that he can't handle time with you away. Even if he gets a little lonely. It even pleases the part of his brain that whispers to him to run away, that tells him its for the best that he is alone, that they secretly hate him and wont come back... ...but you do. And he knew you would, but it's still nice. He might be needy with all his issues, but he isn't clingy. (that's Sirius)

4. Prepared and careful. His anxiety can suck - but it has served him well when it comes to preparing for what he see's as 'eventualities'. His pockets have just about everything that might be needed. He knows more day-to-day useful spells than he can count. Always has sweets and teabags on him. Walking tea party? More like a walking snack These habits have served him well, being homeless.

He is the 'I packed an extra drink bottle and blanket just in case' sort, but not in a ridiculous way. He knows not to over-pack. (Get him to plan a holiday. Taking control AND feeling helpful? yippee.)

His Achilles heel, however, is planning for the things that scare him. His Full Moons, for example: he will procrastinate sorting out his safe space, taking care of himself, drinking his potion (if he can get one)... If that can be taken care of on his behalf... he will be moved to tears.

5. Socially skilled; Aware and sharp. He can read a room instantly - just as well as he can read individuals. He might not be good at confrontations, but if he see's you in one it gives him a little bravery to fight. Though its hardly a battle of wits or fists. He isn't Arthur Weasley fighting for Hermione's parents' honor, nor is he Sirius saying the exact words that cut deepest. But that can be a good thing: he never wants to make a scene. He takes over and tries to keep the situation mild and passive. He steers conversation defensively. He doesn't make enemies. He can take command of a room or a conversation. He can be stern or gentle, manipulating others into staying calm and reasonable. He is good at recognizing manipulation. He studies Dumbledore's methods - and often speaks just like him. He can see it, recognize it - and call it out, disarm it - protect you from it.

If you struggle at talking? He can do it for you. He can talk to anyone pleasantly - or make an excuse for you to leave. He is as much a social butterfly or a wallflower as is needed. If you need any social help or management – a temper, impulsivity, chronic shyness or social anxiety – he is attentive to your needs.

6. Adventurous. Makes everything FUN. He has never grown out looking under rocks for cool bugs... to scoop water out the creek for tadpoles... to mess with gnomes... He looks back on every night with the Marauders fondly, even though they were not the best idea. As cozy as staying in a house is, he has lived a life on his feet - scrounging around spooky places to find boggarts for quick cash...

When it comes to activities or missions: he is fearless. He has weathered the streets and the forest, knowing HE is the scariest thing in them, both as a talented wizard and as a werewolf. He has confidence in his instinct and skills. He will climb trees, explore tunnels – meet with a murderer.

Camping has lost its appeal, being homeless for so long... but camping with a goal? To go see something cool? An abandoned factory, or an old castle ruin? A graveyard at night?

But small things can be fun, too. He MAKES them fun. Trying out a new tea is an event. Staying up late to chat when you should sleep? Riveting adventure. If you're sick in bed he is not beyond making a pillow fort around you, to make laying down a little more exciting.

7. Nurturing; Attentive; Great with kids Mainly a re-tread of other points, but I do think he is destined to be a father. He learns the names of everyone in his class before he meets them. He learns what they like, how best they learn, how he can support them, what their fears are and how to soothe them... Kids love him. He listens, he plays, he is sympathetic to their powerlessness and can allow a little naughtiness just as well as he can step up and take command. At the end of the day he is not exhausted by them but fulfilled. He loves being a teacher - because he is nurturing. He would struggle to be a single father, he needs support – his mental health will go to shit and he will need to get away... but he is a wolf that is tied to his pups. Any partner that also wants children, that already has children – or can offer him the opportunity of being the 'cool uncle'... perfect.

He is a good teacher. Good emotional support for adults AND kids. If you are scared, if you need help - he can guide. He's made for it.

Types of people I think benefit from having him around:

People who are stable and independent, but may also: + Need emotional support. + Struggle in social situations. + Struggle at planning and/or completing tasks. + Who have chronic illness, mental of physical People who plan to have kids/already have kids - or work with kids. People with an active lifestyle they can include him in. People who yearn for, or at least accept, physical affection - even if intimacy is often difficult. People who need distance sometimes. People who find themselves needing to be looked after frequently - injuries, illness, depression etc. People who just need a bit of soft sunshine in their lives. A touch of someone a little eccentric, funny and caring.

(I wanna talk about specific people, like Tonks, but in a third post)

#remus lupin #love you remus #remus my beloved #hp #headcannons

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neverendingcomplaints · 2 years

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WAKANDA FOREVER!!!

Spoilers ahead

I wasn’t super hype to see this but I’m so glad I did. Add Ryan Coogler to the list of Black Men I Am Unworthy Of Who I Want Anyway lol. There’s seemingly humble yet brilliant black men out there and here I am stuck wading through wimps and fuckbois of all flavors. It’s just still not fair. Sigh. Anyway...

YES: Namor x Shuri. Problematique age gap? Check! Enemies-to-lovers? Check! Complex, interesting and engaging? Check! Good thing I checked out of fandom a long time ago.

The Grief. Ryan Coogler’s care for Chadwick Boseman was all throughout this film. At first, I thought this would be gimmicky and weird but I don’t know why I doubted his vision. He’s such an ace filmmaker and he better get his due one day at the Oscars. Assuming the Oscars doesn’t fade into obscurity.

Shuri as Black Panther. Again, I wasn’t sure how they were gonna pull this off but by the time we get here in the film, I was so pumped for it! The way they passed the mantle was beautiful and (antivax weirdness aside) Letitia Wright played it pitch perfect. Love the grapple between logic/science and feeling/heart.

THE ACTING. THIS CAST. THE VISUALS. Just

Namor. How is Tenoch 41? How did they manage to create another incredible minority world origin story? How hot was that scene where he blasted M’baku like he was child’s play?! The power of Namor alone...yum. A literal whole ass GOD (K’uk’ulkan)! Delicious.And he had the right idea, just not a fully thought out plan. Blatant war is too old school. But moving on...

The DIVERSITY. So many languages. So many locales. So many black and brown people on the screen. Incredible!

THE END SCENE. Again, incredible. WAKANDA FOREVER!!!!!

NO:

Disney. F.D. had a great video on the first Black Panther and this is yet another reminder that this is a Corporate, Capitalist, Colonizer production wrapped in Cultural Cloth lol. Damn that Big Brother Disney! The Mouse is so evil but sooooooo soooooooo good.

The US. So, we’re just gonna pretend they had nothing to do with this? OK...Also imagine a real life Martin Freeman. Yup, completely unrealistic. He’d have been killed, not just imprisoned.

Shuri’s Change of Heart. I wasn’t feeling her change of heart at the last minute and wish we’d gotten it, or better hints at her being conflicted, earlier. It really seemed like she was down with killing Namor until the narrative needed her to not kill him. Felt a little underserved. They did it very well with T’Challa.

The “Gay” Scene. This should probably just be under Disney but the way Disney just throws in these tiny unconnected bones of scraps for BS inclusivity points is really tired. When I saw Michaela Coel come in, I thought she might be a good potential girlfriend for Shuri’s character only to see her kiss up on that one Dora Milaje for a hot second. They could’ve set her up to be Shuri’s girl. They could’ve made her Okoye’s new thang. It’s not enough in 2022 for them to keep doing this kind of thing, announcing it like it’s some huge deal and then it’s...beyond nothing.

But yup, absolutely boss! It’s already doing big things. Tenoch is gonna have people giving him the clam hands just like everyone did “Wakanda Forever” to Chadwick lol. Can’t wait to see it again and pay my dues to Big Brother Disney so they can keep milking old Disney properties, Star Wars and Marvel for all they’re worth (beyond what they’re worth at this point)! HAIL TO ONE OF OUR MANY CORPORATE OVERLORDS!

#Wakanda Forever #spoilers #Big Brother Disney #LOVE IT #because what else would i be doing at 4 in the morning

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kashacreates · 2 years

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Happy Blorbo Blursday!

This is for a character of your choice: what does your character think about their past? Are they proud of their past actions? Do they regret much about their past?

This is a very good question since a theme of Moonlit Path is the process of healing from trauma and reactions to trauma. So, I'll quickly go over a few characters. CW of abuse (including sexual), grief, death, and more. I'll start with mildest and work my way down to worse.

Mortus: He was in the service for a short time- he had just become an adult when the Revolution happened. He was a favorite of Gresham's and also lost his Liberation before he became free (killed the bug by headbutting a rock really, really hard). Not only did he have to deal with losing meals, extra training, and being tricked into being punished, he also had to deal with being off-world soldier as well. Losing his Liberation took off the "smoothing over"/rationalization it does to keep him from the guilt.

He loathes who he had to be, but he actively chooses to be better now that he's free. Even in the Service, Mortus chooses kindness at the cost of whatever consequences may come. He continues to choose this even after [redacted spoilers for Glimpse]. However, he's figuring out where that line is, because even in the Revolution he's forced with the choice of Kill Gresham and help the rebels escape (including women and babies) OR Don't Kill Gresham… and let him stand in the way of the rebels escape (and handle their punishment as well.)

Bravo: She's pretty old for a Delphtean and has had a lot of squadmates die in missions over the years. It's a pretty dangerous job breaking into enemy bunkers to keep your growing population fed, clothed, etc. and feed resources to the small resistences to the nearby bloodsucking Empire. She snapped when her last squad died because the event wiped out everyone but TZ. Bravo faked her death and disappeared for a few years and comes back to the Kingdom quite emotionally unstable due to unprocessed grief. It's hard to say she "regrets" her past and actions because she struggles with rationalizing what happened? She blames TZ for the squad's death - going so far to call him a murderer and assault him for it. But at the same time, she blames herself since the squad was there because of her. She vacillates between choosing active self-destruction and an absolute and total numbness.

TZ: Same event as Bravo, but from the perspective of actively trying to save the squad via shutting down the security system and failing due to hyper-powerful AI working against him. Their deaths are not his fault in any way.

But he totally believes that their deaths are entirely his fault and struggles with the grief from that as well. He self-isolates - leaving the Kingdom to live on his own on the other side of the planet - because everyone's faces looks like his family's. Kinda hard to avoid it when everyone looks basically the same.

At the same time, he wants to be the center of everyone's attention. He loves to entertain, be on camera, and be a celebrity.

Eventually, due to his proclivity for extremely dangerous stunts and his belief he'll survive anything, he damages his gills enough to where he CAN'T go to the Kingdom without assistance. (and more. that's just the relevant injury). If it weren't for FU purposefully tracking his ass down and forcing him into therapy/hog-tying him with bureaucratic red tape, he'd be in a much worse place.

Vocatia (last one): She was a broodmare and thus had to deal with the trauma that comes from being a repeatedly-used living incubator. Early on, she snapped back at the Speaker researchers and managed to kill one. As punishment, she was essentially marked as too violent for "general populace" and was forced into isolation and cramped quarters. She didn't get to even rear her litters, they were taken away and handed off to other women (typically those who couldn't have their own).

This made her angry, and that rage just grew. She fought back against the males (and has definitely castrated and killed some), snapped at other mares… basically, if she's too violent and stupid to have dignity, she'll show them violent and stupid.

It's this rage that caused her to start the Revolution; she didn't do it alone, but it was her actions and call that started it.

Vocatia doesn't regret a thing- she despairs the loss of the opportunity to raise her own kids, but funnels that into caring for the rest of her people. She's still deadly ruthless in dealing with anyone that threatens the Revolution, but it's a necessary evil to save the rest of the Liberated. She gives up her species' gift of Flow because the gold is toxic to the parasite.

But she'd do it again if it meant that the Liberated have a chance to be free.

#blursday #Vocatia #Mortus #TZ #Bravo #Some of these are foils.#Mortus becomes a pacifist because of his.#Vocatia chooses incredible violence (and love)

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nifolution · 2 years

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Forgive Me 1

Pairing: Steve Rogers & Mutant Reader

Summary: Steve desperately wants to make everything better, but is it too little, too late?

Warnings: Angst, smut, heartbreak, jealousy, hostage situation, some fluff

A/N: This is a sequel to Dirty Secret. This is a revised copy of my oc fic. It is still written in 1st & 3rd person. 18+ only due to smut. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated.

Dirty Secret Masterlist Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Chapter 1

[2 months later]

Here we go again. Seeing the familiar figure quickly duck into the alley, Bucky can only shake his head as he leaves the restaurant with his order. Every time he left the compound, Steve tried to follow him, hoping he was on his way to meet Y/N.

After securing his meal to his motorcycle, Bucky called out to Steve, “You have to stop doing this, you're not good at it.” Steve appeared out of the shadows looking weary and dejected. It was clear he hadn't been taking care of himself. His clothes wrinkled, his beard untrimmed. Bucky turned to face him, “Besides that, it's pointless. Y/N isn't even in the country anymore.”

“So you do know where she is.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, “Steve…”

The blonde suddenly found his shoes fascinating. “I need her back, Buck… I can’t believe I screwed up so badly, losing her the way I did. It still feels like a bad dream. I wish to god it was. She belongs in my arms and I don’t think I'll ever know what possessed me to push her out of them.”

“You have no one to blame but yourself for that one. You dug your own grave and packed the dirt on too.” Bucky seated himself on his bike. “She deserved more than what you gave her. It shouldn't have taken losing her for you to get over your Carter obsession.”

Steve could only nod, giving his friend a broken look. “I'll see you at home.” He turned and started back the way he came.

Bucky wasn’t sure what else to say to his friend. Things were still tense between them. Both for how Steve treated Y/N, and for shutting him out the way he did. The punk got stuck in his own head and refused help. His stubbornness was always his downfall. If he would have just talked to him, maybe he could have gotten through his thick skull earlier, before Steve destroyed everything.

Y/N’s absence was felt heavily among the team. They all missed her. Not just her getaway skills, but her friendship. She was always kind to everyone, always willing to be there, helping anyway she could. She cared for all of them and that love was missed. None of the others knew the real reason for her sudden departure. It was a hard secret to keep, but Bucky continued at her request. She didn't want any of them to look at Steve differently. After everything he put her through, she still wanted what was best for Steve. And Steve, well Steve thought Y/N was what was best for him. If only he pulled his head out of his ass sooner.

Still, Bucky couldn't help pitying his friend. He hated seeing Steve hurting so badly, but it was the punk’s own dumb actions that caused this mess. Steve was his brother, but he fucked up. Maybe some pain was due. Steve had been sullen and isolating himself since Y/N left. He hasn’t spent much time training or with the team. Bucky knows he wasn’t sleeping well because he can hear him crying most nights. He wasn’t going to bring it up though, Steve has been blowing up over small things lately. He didn’t want to tip him over that edge of grief he was precariously balanced on.

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

The weeks passing did nothing to dampen the all consuming regret Steve felt. Forgoing his morning runs, he would just lay there staring at the ceiling. Tired and drained. If anyone on the team noticed, no one said anything. He was grateful for that much. Steve was certain he’d spill the whole thing with the smallest provocation. He preferred to keep his anguish to himself. His bed felt so cold without her in it. His whole life felt cold now. As he did so many times before, Steve pulled out a yellow garment from inside his pillowcase. It was the dress Y/N left behind. Blood stains now accompanying the grass ones from Steve kissing it after Bucky beat his face in. Steve held tightly to the fabric, imagining Y/N in his arms, her lips on his, willing his heart to stop beating so it would stop hurting.

He thinks of the last time he saw her. How stunning she looked, outshining everyone at the gala. But she was on Bucky's arm, not his as she should have been. Steve wishes he would have ran up to her like he wanted to. He would have swept her off her feet, kissed her breathless and danced the night away. Instead he forced himself to pay attention to Sharon, feeling a misplaced responsibility to her. That night played on repeat in his mind. He should have done so many things. He fucked up so bad.

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

Steve had been looking for Y/N since she left. Four months later and still no lock on her. She was like a ghost. Steve would constantly beg Bucky to tell him where she was. He had yet to budge. Only confirming that she was doing okay. Bucky was torn between friends. Him and Steve were getting back to a good place in the friendship. He wanted to help, but didn’t want to break Y/N’s confidence. Although his resolve on the matter was slowly chipping away.

When Steve loved he loved hard, and permanently. Bucky could only do so much to comfort his friend. He still had trouble understanding why Steve gave into Sharon. Why even for a moment he thought he was doing the right thing. But his friend was stubborn, and dumb enough to think he could have both. That Y/N would always be there. Steve lost someone special chasing after someone he thought he once wanted. So trapped in his nostalgia to not realize what he had until it was gone. At least he saw now that he had been taking her for granted. Should have appreciated what he had enough to not betray her the way he did. However unintentional he claimed it was. Y/N didn't deserve that pain.

Bucky remained close with Y/N. She seemed better each time he talked with her. She'd been traveling the world, site seeing. Her abilities saved her a fortune in transportation and entrance fees. Hotel rooms and meals too. She'd been staying at the best hotels for free. Orbing into empty rooms and raiding the well stocked mini bars. Bucky’s stayed with her a few times. Both willing to overlook the moral ambiguity of their actions.

“Please Buck, I need to find her.”

“You can't fix everything, Steve. She doesn’t want to be found. You're bullheaded, but you must realize that by now.” Bucky was tired of having this same conversation again and again. Steve wasn’t going to give up.

“I have to try. Even if there is just the slimmest chance, I have to try.”

Bucky gave in. Walking over to the map on the wall and pointing to her last known location. The rest was up to Steve.

Steve practically jumped out of his chair. “Thank you Bucky… I promise I’m going to get my girl back.”

Within hours he arrived at his destination. It saddened him that she went to Paris alone. They were supposed to go together. He searched for her high and low, but was too late, only catching a glimpse of her. He blinked and she was gone. She moved too fast.

Steve returned to the compound, heartbroken. It wasn’t yet 3am, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep. So he decided to go for a run. He kept running till the sun came up. After passing out in bed from exhaustion, Steve awoke prepared to try to move forward. He resumed his regular routine, running on autopilot, just trying to get by. In the day he could almost convince himself he was healed. Nighttime was another story entirely. The pain bloomed anew each time he lay in his lonely and vacant bed. He'd close his eyes, knowing too well it was his own damn fault.

Chapter 2

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x mutant reader #steve rogers smut

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

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物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Characters : Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.

Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.

Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts.

Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .

[ Author’s Note : 物の哀れ ~ Mono no aware can be translated as ‘the sadness of things’. It comes from the words 物 (mono – thing) and 哀れ (aware – poignancy or pathos). The ‘sadness’ in question comes from an awareness of the transience of things, as taught by Zen Buddhism. When we view something exceptionally beautiful, we might feel sad because we know it won’t stay so beautiful forever – but appreciation only heightens the pleasure we take in the beautiful thing in that moment. ]

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

“Yoongi left a bunch of painkillers for you. He said you can take up to three per day.” Jin said calmly , carefully slipping the sleeves of my t shirt over my wrist as i held my arms out for him. He slipped the shirt over my head gently but his arms hit my shoulders, jostling me. I swallowed the whimper of pain that shot through me at the movement. Mina was now awake, happily wiggling around on her rocker.

It was a little past seven in the evening and Jungkook wasn’t due to arrive for another hour .

“I could sleep on a bed of rusty nails right now. I’m so tired and i don’t know why. “ I whispered, staying still as he carefully drew the fabric down over my ribs, before stepping back.

“I’ll sleep in the nursery with her. You should take the bed. You’re in no shape to be up and taking care of her when she wakes up. Jungkook’s asked me to stay here during the day because I’m not going to be performing for a couple months anyway and I’ve been losing my mind, rattling around that huge ass mansion all by myself. ”

The phone rang, startling both of us.

I groaned before moving to get up but Jin oppa held a hand up.

“Stay in bed. I’ll go see who it is.”

I watched him disappear out of the room, settling back against the pillows and reaching for the ice pack in the small cooler by the bed. I had to ice my ribs every hour or so and while it didn’t seem to be helping much, I definitely appreciated the temporary numbness it offered.

Jungkook’s guilt had driven a new wedge between us and he hadn’t so much as looked at me in three days.

I wasn’t sure entirely if this was a good or bad thing. The fact that he seemed to be considering that he had to get his emotions under control to stop hurting the people around him was a welcome change. But the idea of going back to being ignored and treated like furniture , wasn’t really all that appealing.

“Jungkook’s parents are on the way.” Jin’s voice broke through my reverie and i jumped.

I resisted the urge to sob out loud .

Mr and Mrs. Jeon were on the opposite side of the grief spectrum and just as annoying.

Where Sooah’s parents were intent on making Jungkook remember their daughter as often as possible, Jungkook’s parents were intent on making him forget her.

The only thing the two of them had in common was a burning hatred for me.

Jungkook’s parents had wanted him to quit the company and sell it when it went into loss but Jungkook had categorically refused because that would result in all of his employees getting laid off, and back then Jungkook had been nothing if not ridiculously compassionate. Jungkook’s parents firmly believed that if it hadn’t been for me, their son would be back in Busan, letting them raise their granddaughter.

“Great, that’s great. Did you tell them their son is not around?” I grimaced. I’d only met them three times in total and the last time was in the hospital two months ago when Jungkook had crashed in the middle of a board meeting, weeks of starving and dehydration catching up to him. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience, getting cursed out in front of the doctors and nurses and it probably won’t be any fun in the privacy of my home either.

Jin gave me a sympathetic smile.

“He’s already told them he’s on the way. I’m going to take Mina out on a walk. Give you guys some privacy. Shoot me a text when they leave.” he said gently.

“Can’t I come with?” I begged and he laughed.

“That would be a bad idea, even if it weren’t for the cracked rib. Just relax. Smile and nod and let them spew whatever nonsense they want and then they’ll leave. ”

I opened my mouth to tell him how many flaws there were in his plan when the doorbell rang.

“And that’s my cue. Text me, yeah?” Jin moved to pick Mina up from the rocker before reaching for the baby carrier on the table.

I debated the pros and cons of staying in bed and finally decided against it, gently throwing my legs off the edge and raising myself up to a sitting position. I heard vague voices by the front door, Jin’s sweet tones mingling with Jungkook’s slightly gruffer ones.

I heard the door close and the stillness of the apartment was as oppressing as ever. I could hear him quite clearly though. The clink of the keys as they hit the bowl, the small click of the door as he locked it.

i could imagine him, exhausted from the day’s work, briefcase held in one hand while the other tugged on the knot of his tie.

I imagined for a second, what it must have been like for him with Sooah. She was a bright , incredibly cheerful person. Everyone kind of faded into the background when she was around. Sooah had always been the first to smile at a stranger, the first to laugh even if the joke wasn’t funny. The first one to stand up to help someone in need.

I swallowed, clutching the sheets to ground myself.

I guessed that she must’ve always rushed to greet him at the door. I could imagine him wrapping both arms around her waist, drawing her into a hug or even a kiss.

How was your day, Kookie? (I’d heard her call him that, once when they had been at my father’s house for a charity dinner. )

I wondered if perhaps the very sight of her would have taken away all of the day’s exhaustion from him. Perhaps, he would forget all the ways his company had been failing back then at the sight of her beautiful laughing face. Perhaps losing his company hadn’t been as terrifying as losing his job.

And perhaps once he lost her, he just couldn’t bear the thought of losing his life’s work too. And so he’d agreed to meet my father’s demands.

My fingers began trembling a bit .

I could imagine her moving around the house, pregnant and glowing, laughing as he nuzzled into the curve of her belly. Had he perhaps pressed his lips to her skin, whispered sweet endearments to his daughter through the fabric of his wife’s clothes? Had he perhaps loved Mina, deeply? WAs it just his grief that made it hard to be near his wife. Or was it perhaps me? Me holding the baby that should have been in his beautiful wife’s arms.

The wife he had been so madly, deeply in love with.

Love, I thought vacantly.

It wasn’t something I had ever felt, for anyone until I’d began caring for Mina.

But what Jungkook had with his wife was something different wasn’t it?

The love a man had for a woman. Laced with desire, longing and passion. A love that made you put their happiness over your own.

Love like that had never been in the cards for me.

Ever

I was an Omega. Rare and hated and known for being selfish and greedy. People didn’t love my kind. They avoided me. They always assumed I would take advantage of them. My peers growing up had treated me with so much contempt.

The girls would whisper how I was trying to seduce their boyfriends. The boys would call me a tease, even when I stayed far away and did nothing to attract their attention. I’d gotten used to it. It didn’t bother me. it was the way of the world for me. Ad it wasn’t like I could honestly deny some of it.

I looked at handsome alphas and wanted them. I wanted to be held and cherished. To be bought pretty things and cared for. It had taken decades for me to beat that part of mine into submission. To remind myself that if I ever let that part of me out, it would destroy me.

But love? Being in love with someone?

I didn’t know what that could have been like for Jungkook.

Or maybe I had but I couldn’t recognize it because I’d never received it myself. Whatever the cause, it was for me, a fairytale. It was hard to imagine people loving each other so much, to the extent that they would die for each other. ( Jungkook’s words still hung in the back of my mind : that he had wanted to follow her even in death )

Jungkook was right.

I could never know what his loss was like.

Because I would never know what he had lost.

It felt a little like being dipped in an ice cold lake in the middle of winter. My skin broke out in shivers, hair standing on end and I felt my throat go dry so swiftly. I’d never wanted to run away so much. I wrapped a hand sound myself, scooting back on the bed again. I reached for the blanket, wanting to pull it over my head and curl into a ball.

Shut out the world and all the things that didn’t make sense.

“Are you alright?” Jungkook’s voice broke through the haze in my head and I swallowed. He had an alpha’s voice and my body responded even if my mind resisted. It didn’t happen all the time. Jungkook couldn’t control me. But sometimes when I was feeling vulnerable, instincts took over . I was already dropping the blanket and smiling softly.

“Mina’s out for a walk.” I croaked out, surprised at how awful my voice sounded.

I felt the press of something against my fingers and I blinked, staring at the glass of water Jungkook was pressing into my hand.

“Don’t worry, I called them and told them not to come over.” He said quietly , watching me drink with still trembling fingers.

I swallowed and stared at him.

“I... Thank you. “ I said fervently, feeling a few knots come undone in my gut. I couldn’t really stand up to Jungkook’s parents the way I did with Sooah’s parents. Because Jungkook loved them deeply and hurting them would be the same as hurting him.

“There’s a party in a couple of days. It’s my birthday. I’m turning 34. Yugyeom’s organizing the whole thing, so I’m going to hire a babysitter for Mina, because Jin hyung will be there too and you need help caring for her anyway. You can stay home and rest. ” he said .

I scoffed.

“I’m going to come with you.” I said firmly.

Jungkook frowned.

“What?”

I glared at him.

“I’m not letting you go to a party organized by your shit for brains friend, Jungkook. You’ll probably end up getting drunk out of your mind and killing someone and I’m not going to hang around to clean that up. I’m coming to that party and I’m making sure you don’t have more than one drink. “

Jungkook’s frown deepened into a scowl.

Did you ever look at your wife , like this? With so much loathing? I thought stupidly. Or did she only ever get to see the sweet and wonderful side of you? Did she ever annoy you the way i seem to every second of the damn day ? Did you hate certain things about her too? Or was she so perfect that you could only feel love ?

“ I can take care of myself. Its my birthday , I can do whatever the fuck I want.“ He snapped.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“Not unless you’re a five year old kid in the sandpit, which you’re not. You’re an adult and when you make stupid decisions as an adult, very real people end up paying for it. You’re old enough to know this Jungkook and for once, just listen to me. You can drink, fine. But I’m going to be there and if I see that you’re getting drunk, I’m going to bring you home. You either agree or I’m going to call Yoongi oppa .”

That made him pause.

“Fine. Fuck you.” He snapped, turning on his heel and stalking out of the room. A few seconds later I heard the door to the shower slam shut.

I wanted to follow him and shake some sense into him but before I could decide if it was worth jostling my body, when another sharp pain lanced through my ribs.

Oh great.

I took deep breaths the way Yoongi had taught me. Apparently, pneumonia was a thing that could happen, so i had to breath carefully to reduce the risk of that happening.

The birthday party organized by Yugyeom was going to be a whole entire migraine inducing disaster. I could already feel the headache come on. It still amazed me that Jungkook was friends with him and his cronies.

Yugyeom and his friends were the typical; brain dead alphas who thought themselves superior to all other ranks. Even worse, they viewed omegas as objects: fucktoys to be more precise and I bristled when i remembered the way he had always stared at me.

Well, if he stepped anywhere near me, I would kick him in the teeth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Jungkook’s mother turned up at home the next day, I wasn’t entirely surprised. I wasn’t surprised but it didn’t make things any more pleasant.

“We’re willing to take Mina for a couple of days if you would both need time to prepare for the party. This is the first big event Jungkook’s holding after Sooah’s passing and we want it to be perfect. As his wife, i hope you’ll do your part.”

Mrs Jeon’s pinched face did nothing for my already frayed temper.

“There’s not much i can do with a cracked rib, mother.” I said politely. It stung, having to call this bitter, cruel woman mother but then, such was life. It was late afternoon and Jungkook was probably sitting in the comfort of his air conditioned office, being flattered and doted on by his smitten secretary while I sat here entertaining his vicious mother.

“Nonsense, you’ve probably just scratched it. I know how you omegas like to exaggerate. “ she waved off my injury easily. “ There are so many details that need to be decided on and its unfair to drop all of those responsibilities on poor yugyeom’s head. Why don’t you go with him and help out a bit?”

The idea of going anywhere with Kim Yugeom was easily the most repugnant thing to me.

“I’m sure he knows Jungkook much better than I do. If i interfered, I’d only be getting in his way.” I said politely.

Mrs. Jeon hummed.

“Well, its good that he’s agreed to the party at least. That woman never let him meet with Yugyeom or his friends when she was around.”

That woman being Jungkook’s late wife.

I felt a sudden fondness for her. Clearly she had also recognized Yugyeom for the absolute pig that he was and kept her husband away from his rotten influence . But unlike with her, Jungkook didn’t actually care about me. So I had no way of stopping him from meeting the idiots. Yugyeom’s family was rich and reputed and it was clear that the Jeons wanted the friendship and the connection. Why else would they keep pushing for it so much?

“Is there any particular reason you’re here, mother?” I said finally, after hearing her babble on and on about caterers and invitations and what not.

“I was hoping to meet Mina...why isn’t she here?”

“I’m not able to care for her well, what with the rib. The doctor has advised me to rest so Jin oppa takes care of her during the day. Jungkook picks her back up on his way back from office. I can send her over to your place with him this weekend.”

“That would be fine i suppose. Have you spoken to the decorators about changing the portraits put up in the house?”

I blinked.

“Sorry?”

“The penthouse, we’ve got it back now right? why don’t you move there. We have a cook and a housekeeper .”]

“this is closer to Jungkook’s office.” I had no idea where the penthouse was and could only hope it was farther way.

Mrs. Jeon frowned.

“This apartment is too small. Not to mention, you still have Sooah’s photos everywhere in this place. Surely that’s not healthy. Get rid of them and put up pictures of you and Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s parents didn’t know that our marriage had an expiry date. i wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad thing. But they saw me as nothing more than a way to get rid of Sooah from the deepest recesses of Jungkook’s mind.

“I’m sure, with time...Jungkook can make that decision by himself. When he’s ready for it.” I said gently, beginning the fresh throb of pain near my temple.

“Nonsense, Heejin. Men won’t ever move on until you force them. Have you considered getting pregnant?”

I jumped about a foot into the air.

“I...what.” I croaked out.

“You need a child too. He mated you. He owes you that. I’m going to tell him that he better do his duty by you.” She said firmly.

“Please don’t.” I shouted, stunned out of my mind. Was this woman even sane?

“Why not?” She frowned looking at me like i was the one being unreasonable.

Why not? Because its barely been four months since he lost his wife of seven years to childbirth. Surely, you don’t think the remedy to that is to have him go through it all over again.

“ Mina is still small, mother. I’m sure we can wait a while. Maybe after she’s one or two.”

Jungkook would probably move on by then. Of course he would. Grief was overwhelming but it was also finite. It did get smaller over time. Easier to cope with. Jungkook would eventually be able to navigate his life around his grief. He would learn to make new connections and who was to say one of those wouldn’t be a compatible match?

So two years from now, there was no reason Jungkook shouldn’t meet another lovely woman, a beta maybe and eventually expand his family. Of course i would be nowhere in the picture at the time. But that was fine.

I remembered something I’d read somewhere, a while back.

If two people are like ships that pass in the night, they meet by chance for a short time , then do not see each other ever again.

Like ships passing by each other in the night, I reminded myself. That's what Jungkook and I were.

“Well, if you think that’s wise.... fine. But now that Jungkook’s doing well, why don’t you entertain people more often? You haven’t had a dinner party here yet, have you?”

And so it went on, over an over for a whole two hours until I was wrung out from sheer exhaustion, my head throbbing and nails having dug half moon indents into my palms from fisting my hands too hard.

By the time i finally closed the door on her face, I couldn’t help but sag against the door, sinking to the floor in a heap, cracked rib be damned.

I glanced up at the solo portrait on the wall. The one my mother in law had wanted gone.

“She must’ve really hated you, huh?” I said casually pulling myself up to my feet and moving to the dining space to stare at her face more closely.

She was dressed in her wedding gown, a fitted mermaid dress with lace and satin detailing. She had a bouquet of white lilies in one hand, elbows bent and the blooms resting on her shoulder while her other hand curved around her slender waist.

Beautiful was an understatement, I thought vacantly.

“ You look like you didn’t put up with people’s bullshit. That’s cool I guess.” I smiled a little. “ You know in another world, we may have been friends.”

I bit my lips.

“Yugyeom was shitty to you too huh? He seems the type. i’m glad you kept Jungkook away from him. I wish you’d somehow help get him away again. He doesn’t listen to me. Thinks I’m trying to control him or something. ”

It was ridiculous. What was i doing.. Why was i talking to a framed picture on the wall. God.

But now that I’d started, I couldn’t quite stop.

“About what happened with Jungkook... I don’t want you to think i was seducing him or anything. And when i said that I hated him calling your name when we... well you know why i said it right? It wasn’t anything personal...i was just pissed. I don’t enjoy the sex by the way... I don’t think he does either but he’s an alpha and you know how it is…they need that release or they kind of lose their mind .. So trust me we both hate the principle of it.... but at least he cums and well I don’t. He’s never made me cum. That should say something about how we feel about each other.......”

“Uh.. Should I come back later?” The voice near the doorway was so unexpected my heart jumped right to my throat and I screamed, stumbling a bit to the side.

Min Yoongi stood framed by the door, one hand wrapped around a bouquet of flowers and the other clutching his bag and stethoscope. He still had his white coat on over his shirt and slacks, hair mussed like he’d run his finger through it.

It took me a second to remember that Yoongi had a key to the house.

Another second to remember exactly what I’d been doing when he came inside.

Good God.

Had he heard the part where I’d talked about Jungkook not making me cum? Surely not? Oh Please no.

“Jungkook told me to check on you. That you couldn’t sleep last night? Are you in a lot of pain?”

Jungkook and I had shared the bed in his room last night and I had apparently, tossed and turned and whimpered through the night in pain. Or so Jungkook claimed.

“Uh... I’m not sure. He said so... so..”

“you guys sleep together right?” Yoongi asked casually, taking his coat off. I stared at the way the material of the shirt strained over his shoulders, my throat just a little dry.

Yoongi smelled so ridiculously good. He was a doctor and he was so handsome and kind to me. The attraction would have been there even if i had been a beta but as an omega, the urge to just fling myself at him and beg him to make me his, it was kind of horrifying.

Tamping down that part of me, I gave him a casual shrug, heart still pounding.

“Yeah. There’s just two bedrooms here and one is Mina’s nursery. So ...” I finished awkwardly, watching him move around and place his bag on the table before unwinding the stethoscope, placing it around his collar.

He gave me a small smile.

“I’ll just take a quick look and check how your breathing sounds. that okay?” He asked gently.

“Oh... sure. You need me to take my shirt off?” I asked curiously.

He gave me a quick little smirk.

“Not for medical reasons no.” He winked.

I felt blood rush to my face along with guilt. What was I doing? This was Jungkook’s best friend!! His hyung. Someone he trusted and I was his....

His what?

Nothing. I was Jungkook’s nothing. When was the last time someone had flirted with me . Someone who wasn’t a grade A creep.

Yoongi moved closer, sitting down on the kitchen stool and beckoned me to come stand between his thighs. i moved, achingly aware of how much more potent his scent was up close. He looked up at me through sooty black lashes, a small smirk on his lips, feline eyes warm and open .

“Put your hands on my shoulders, yeah?” He prompted.

I hesitated, fingers shaking just a little before reaching out to rest on this shirt. I kept the touch feather light , the softness of his shirt the only thing I could feel.

He hummed and bending down to lightly tug the hem of my shirt out of the waistline of my jeans. I bit my lips to stop myself from squirming.

He glanced up , eyes meeting mine and holding my gaze.

“You good?”

“Uhuhbuh.” I stuttered and he grinned wider, pulling the fabric up to the curve of my breasts. He lightly ran his finger tips over the bruised skin , humming thoughtfully .

“You’ll be fine in a few weeks. Hang on.” He pulled back, plugging the steth in his hear before holding the other end up to my chest. He pressed it against my skin, just before the underwire of my bra and it was unexpectedly cold .

I jumped, fingers curling on his shoulder and squeezing down.

“Hey.. what’s wrong?” Yoongi whispered, hands reaching for my waist, gently holding me steady and I flushed. He looked genuinely worried , lips turned down and brows furrowed and i felt absolutely stupid.

“Sorry. Sorry.... It’s nothing.. i just.. it’s a little cold.” I laughed nervously and his gaze softened.

One hand still curved around my waist, he brought the diaphragm up to his mouth, holding my gaze as he gently breathed warm air all over it.

My throat went instantly dry and i had to swallow. He pressed it against my chest again and this time it was so much warmer. .

“Better?” He prompted and i nodded, guilt and discomfort churning in my stomach. What was i doing? I had no business indulging him. i had no business indulging any man. Ever.

I looked away, pulling my hands up off his shoulder, pushing his hand off my hip as well . He didn’t say anything his shoulders stiffened at the subtle rejection.

A mantle of awkward tension settled over us, a small thundercloud of regret and that threatened to rain misery all over us. I wanted to kick myself. He was older than Jungkook by four years. Thirty eight years old.

Did he have a girlfriend? Oh god, what if he was martried?

Nausea threatened.

“Your breathing sounds fine. Are you practicing those breathing exercises , I taught you?” He asked casually and I nodded . I couldn’t trust myself to speak.

“Hey...” He said gently and I flinched.

“I’m sorry.” I blurted out. “ I didn’t mean to lead you on or tease you in any way and I’m sorry if i came on to you ...”

“What?! Heejin, stop. That’s bullshit. You never did any such thing. This was all me.” He said firmly.

I stared at him.

“I know you’re married but... your marriage, its going to end right? Eventually.”

I made to step back but he grabbed my waist again, this time a few inches over my jean and his fingers on the bare skin of my midriff made me want to melt. He had long slender fingers, a surgeons hands, and the press of it on my skin felt so foreign and gentle and different and good.

“We don’t have to do anything. I just... I thought we could get to know each other. Over coffee or dinner.”

I wanted to sob at the unfairness of it all.

Because Yoongi was beautiful and handsome and so good and so much more than I could ever even dream of, but he was and would always be so intricately woven with Jungkook and with Jungkook’s life. And I couldn’t imagine anything more messy than sticking around and watching Jungkook and his daughter forget me and move on.

“It’s.... probably a terrible idea. “ I said roughly, shaking my head. “ Its the kind of idea that would never end well.”

“Are you sure? Because unlike Jungkook, i could probably make you cum.” He winked and I felt my face flame red.

“Oh God...” I hissed, stumbling back. This time he let me move away, merely chuckling and reaching for his coat and bag .

“I won’t bother you again. But the offer’s always open, yeah?” He smiled again. “ You need me to send over more pain meds?”

I shook my head mutely, begging him to just leave already.

He nodded and held his hand up in a casual wave before walking out of the door. I collapsed on the stool and dropped my head into my arms , groaning.

What had i gotten myself into.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn’t actually see Jungkook for a couple of days. The meds knocked me out and he worked overtime, only arriving after I’d slept off and leaving before i woke up. Jin brought Mina around everyday and there was something absolutely exhilarating about watching her clutch at her little teething toys and rattles, gummy smile peeking out every few minutes.

On a whim, i told Jin what had happened with Yoongi and much to my surprise he actually laughed.

“About time . He’s been pining for what three years now?”

I gaped at him, completely thrown.

“I..he.. what.” I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around what I had heard.

“He saw you at that art exhibition you put up in the Hyatt . By the way, don’t you paint anymore?”

I flushed.

I had no proper response to that. What could i say? That my painting had just been yet another way to control me, only appreciated by father when he could use it to make more money. And that part of my marriage contract included that I wouldn’t paint or make any money off my art for the duration that I stayed with Jungkook.

It was just yet another way my father reminded me that he controlled him. I didn’t fight him because he would win anyway. And the only thing he loved more than controlling people was winning battles that were always rigged in his favor. i wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. I would soldier through this awful marriage and at the end of it , i would disappear without a trace.

I shook my head vaguely and Jin hummed.

“Yoongi doesn’t understand art but he hung around the entire nine hours , morning to night . Three whole days of him just pretending to look at the artwork while secretly making moon eyes at you.”

I could only stare in sheer disbelief.

“i... i never knew.”

“How could you? Yoongi’s idea of courting is pretending he doesn’t exist and fading into the background. “ Jin rolled his eyes. “ He tried approaching your father to officially court you but your old man shut that down rather brutally.”

I swallowed .

“I... I’m sorry.” i said feeling foolish. Three years...what? I couldn’t think beyond the shock of the information.

“Does Jungkook know?” I asked , scared.

Jin shook his head.

“Like I said Yoongi never made it known . He was afraid it would make life difficult for you. He didn’t want any rumors around because everyone knew your father was looking to offer you to someone rich and young. Yoongi was what , fifteen years older? That’s quite a difference.”

“Thirty eight isn’t old.” I said sharply and Jin’s brow went up.

“Oh?” He questioned teasingly and I flushed.

“Jungkook is eleven years older. What’s another four more years?” I shrugged.

“You’re interested then.” Jin said thoughtfully. I recoiled, shaking my head quickly.

“I...what? No. No I’m not. “

“Why not? If it isn’t the age, then there’s no reason to say no. Yoongi is handsome , settled and a great guy all around and besides, your time with Jungkook is finite right?”

“I... I won’t cheat on him.” I said firmly. “ i can’t... I... besides, Jungkook and I... we’re... we have sex.” My ears turned red, “ I can’t do that with two guys... I’m not like that. “

Jin nodded.

“Its alright.. Heejinah ...I’m sorry if i pressured you or anything. You don’t have to do anything. I know you have a lot on your plate right now. Yoongi probably got carried away . More than likely he’s going to panic and avoid you for a year just to recover.” He laughed and I smiled reluctantly.

“He’s nice I don’t want to hurt him. “ I said softly.

“ Sometimes that’s just inevitable . People get hurt no matter what we choose.” Jin gave me a sad little smile. “ Jungkook is just as nice a gy as Yoongi. If not better. He’s just...not in the right headspace to show that side of himself to you. I wish you’d known him before Sooah. He used to be this...playful and funny kid. We all went out of our way to keep him safe. Sooah was just as amazing. Usually , we try to find flaws in people our friends date right? Well trust me Sooah was hard to dislike .” He laughed, eyes misting over as his gaze landed on her portrait over the mantle.

I followed his gaze and swallowed.

“Do you think Jungkook will ever get over her?” I asked simply.

Jin hesitated.

“Someday? Probably yes. But it won’t be easy. He’s ... He feels things deeply. He always has. He loved her deeply, he cared for her deeply and so its only obvious that he’s going to feel the loss of her presence very deeply too.”

I nodded.

“Its his birthday tomorrow.” I said softly. “ I have a gift for him. Well its not a gift from me, but a gift nonetheless. But I’m not sure if I should give it to him.”

Jin gave me a surprised look.

“What do you mean?”

I smiled bitterly.

“Just that sometimes fate can be very cruel when it chooses its players. I’m forever wondering if he would be better off or worse without me in the picture and I just can’t decide.”

“Different. He would just be different.” Jin said calmly.

There was nothing else i could say to that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yugyeom had rented out the rooftop restaurant in one of the poshest Hotels in Seoul and although the party was a pool party, I hadn’t bothered dressing for it. I wore a plain sequined top and burgundy skirt that fanned out around me knees.

The place was teeming with people his age , friends acquaintances and business partners. The women had changed into bright , skimpy bikinis and lounged about in the brightly lit pool tossing a ball around .

The older people were being hosted by the Jeons on the lower level of the restaurant in a posh ballroom. Jungkook and i would have to visit them later but for now I was content sipping a mocktail, leaning against the bar while Hoseok and Lisa flanked me on either side, pointing out who was sleeping with who.

Jungkook was in the pool with Yugyeom and Jimin and it was impossible to tear my eyes away from him. He looked happy almost, laughing and shaking water out of his hair as he moved around with the strength and agility of an Olympic athlete. Yoongi was in the pool as well and on the opposite team with Jin and Namjoon....and it was increasingly obvious that the half a dozen bikini clad women were there simply for an excuse to touch the handsome alphas as they worked up a sweat.

“Jungkook is such a competitive bastard.” Hoseok laughed. “But I don’t know what’s gotten into Yoongi today. i can’t believe he’s in the pool. “

“Of his own volition. “ Lisa added. “ usually someone has to strip him and toss him in.

Yoongi kept glancing at me every few minutes. It was impossible to miss. It was also impossible to miss that at least three of the six women in the pool were trying to get into his pants.

I sighed and turned back to the bartender asking for a refill. when i turned back around, Jungkook and Yugyeom were climbing out of the pool and Jin was moving to the opposite side to take their place with Jimin.

“Jungkook and i are going to go get a drink. Anything for you , beautiful?” Yugyeom reached out to touch me and I almost fell in my haste to get away from him.

“Keep your hands off me.” I snapped . Jungkook frowned.

“No need to be rude, Heejin , he was just being polite.” He said softly and i smelt the alcohol on his breath.

“Don’t drink too much Jungkook.”

“Oh come on, beautiful., Its his birthday let him live a little...” Yugyeom laughed and I glared at him.

“I’d rather have him live longer “ I snapped. “ And that can’t happen if you keep trying to give him alcohol poisoning.”

Yugyeom rolled his eyes.

“Is she always this dramatic, Jungkook-ah.” Yugyeom laughed. Jungkook didn’t laugh but he gave me a look that said, ‘ please don’t make a scene’ and I bit my lips.

I didn’t want to ruin his night. He looked ....so close to a normal person tonight and whether I liked it or not Yugyeom had contributed to that. The music was apparently Jungkook’s favorites only, the pool because he loved volleyball in the water and the buffet had all his favorite foods. Yugyeom had gone out of his way to make the party perfect and i suddenly felt like the troll stomping on Jungkook’s happiness.

Swallowing my own instinct to drag my husband away from the alpha who had his arms around him, I turned away and walked off to the pool. Yoongi’s face lit up when he saw me.

“Hey there, angel. Here to watch me kick some ass? “ He cupped his hands in the water, before tossing a handful of water at me. I blinked in surprise, laughing a little.

“I’m just here to cheer Jin oppa. “ I said impishly, moving over to the lounge chair near his side of the pool. Yoongi’s pout was adorable and I couldn’t help but laugh.

Maybe I could stop worrying about Jungkook for a while. Yugyeom wasn’t dangerous. Even if he got a little drunk, I was still here. So were all of our friends.

It would be fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it wasn’t fine.

An hour later, I found Jungkook in a room filled with cigarette smoke and light music, yugeyom and his friends scattered around the place with a few beautiful women lounging about on their laps.

“You said one drink Yugyeom...he’s completely out of his mind.” I said shrilly staring at where Jungkook sat on the couch , shirtless and laughing as some girl in a bikini ran her fingers up and down his arm. She had one leg draped over his thigh. I felt sick at the very sight of it.

its because he’s drunk , I told myself. He’s drunk and can’t consent, that’s why you feel sick, nothing else.

Yugyeom gave me an easy smile.

“Guy just wants to have some fun. Reina’s a friend of mine. She’ll take good care of him don’t worry. She’s the birthday gift i got him. “ He leered.

I resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

Glaring at him,

“Jungkook, we’re leaving. Come on.” I made to move towards him but a hand shot out, gripping my wrist like a vice.

“Not so fast baby.... I already paid for her. You can’t just waltz in here and take away her livelihood.” He sneered. “ Unless you want to take her place. This is a special bar you know. All these lovelies, they have something in common with you.”

I stared at him frowning.

“What does that mean?”

“I hired them from an omega escort agency...you know because that’s all you omegas are useful for anyway.”

I rolled my eyes, yanking on my wrist.

“You and your medieval ideals can go to hell. I’m going home. Jungkook!!” I yelled again and this time Jungkook turned eyes landing on me.

“Heejin?” He slurred.

“We need to go home, Jungkook.” I said firmly.

“Now?” He blinked. I nodded.

“Yes now.” I made to move away but this time Yugyeom wrapped both arms around my waist, pinning me to his body. Pain , sharp and unbearable shot up my ribs and I whimpered. He was squeezing too hard and God what if the cracked rib just snapped?

Panic began setting in and I yelped.

“Let me go you bastard.” I struggled to get away, staring in disbelief at my husband .

Jungkook was standing but he swayed dangerously. There was no clarity there and his eyes were hooded. He was drunk. Really, really drunk.

“Jungkook tell him to let me go!!” I yelled , trying to tamp down the panic that was rising up my throat.

“Don’t worry Kook. Just gonna ask her to wait outside for a while. Why don’t you finish your conversation with Reina.. i’ll entertain your wife for a while.” He drawled and i felt my entire body go ice cold at that.

Jungkook was blinking rapidly, the words clearly not registering and genuine terror began to bleed into my veins. Jungkook couldn’t even fathom that i was in genuine danger here, let alone help me. Oh God, why had i come alone? Where were the others??

Yugyeom held me tighter and i swallowed a groan . My ribs felt like they were on fire.

“Let’s take this somewhere private, Heejin?” He whispered into my neck and i couldn’t believe it. Yugyeom was drunk yes, but was this idiot also insane?

“Wait...no.. Yugeyom don’t be a fucking idiot. If you touch me, that’s fucking rape...You can go to prison for that .” I shouted, trying to drill some sense into his head. He wasn’t going to risk prison to make a point was he??

“Not if you seduce me angel...and you’re going to... Or I’ll just tell people you did...same difference , right?” he whispered.

And then he began dragging me off to the corner and my eyes fell on a side door leading out of the room .

If you let him take you there this is going to become frighteningly real, a voice screamed in my head and I inhale deeply, ready to scream loud enough to get the attention of everyone in the damned building.

The door opened just as I opened my mouth and I froze, watching Mrs Jeon walk into the lounge, looking lost.

“What is this place?” She muttered out loud looking around and the arms around me fell away so fast, I crashed to the floor.

“Heejin-ah!” Yoongi’s voice came from right behind her and I flinched, willing my shaking legs to stop trembling.

“Mrs. Jeon...” I muttered, voice strained and ribs throbbing.

“Heejin? What is going on here? Where’s my son?”

“Fuck... Jungkook-ah...” Yoongi moved to get him and I took a deep steadying breath.

Years ago , I’d taken a self defence class and one thing i’d definitely enjoyed learning was how to throw a punch. And It wasn’t something i’d forgotten.

Planting my feet firmly , i lightly rotated my hips, a subtle shift, before engaging my core , drawing all the fury and helpless rage inside me into my fist. I pulled my shoulders in and took a deep breath. Punch past your target , i told myself. You’re not just going to break his jaw you’re going to put him in the hospital tonight.

“Mrs. Jeon, Jungkook had a great time toni-” His voice was all i needed to hear to know exactly where his mouth was behind me.

i relaxed my muscles as i threw the punch, contracting them just as my fist landed on Kim Yugyeom’s face.

The satisfying sound of flesh on bone felt like music to my ears and Yugyeom’s sharp cry of sheer agonizing pain even sweeter.

He crashed to the floor in a heap and I could feel my fist throb like hell. I was going to bruise so badly. But it was worth it.

“That was for telling me that you were going to rape me and tell everyone that i seduced you.” I said calmly.

Yoongi let out a noise of disbelief.

“What the actual fuck.....” He shouted.

“Yugyeom what the fuck man? Are you out of your damned mind?” One of his friends yelled. Yugyeom merely groaned.

He couldn’t answer, blood trickling down his chin and hands cradling his jaw, whimpers falling out of his mouth. My own fist throbbed like hell so the damage had to be significant.

Mrs Jeon looked horrified and when she opened her mouth i quickly held a hand up.

“I’m not doing this. Not tonight. “ I said calmly. Jungkook was quiet, the way he always got when he was drunk and I groaned.

It was going to be a long night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We need to talk.” I said calmly and Jungkook swallowed.

“Heejin, I’m -”

“Hear me out first Jungkook.” I said sharply. “ I don’t need your apology, it means nothing to me because it means nothing to you. You’re not sorry that you didn’t help me last night. You’re just angry that you had to help at all. You don’t give a fuck about me. I know that and I’m okay with that. What I’m not okay with is you getting drunk to the point that you don’t even recognize that someone’s in need of help. “

I took a deep breath.

“If you did it to me, you’ll do it to your daughter too. Yugyeom is going to get you drunk someday when you’re taking care of Mina by yourself and then when she needs you, what are you going to do?”

“You’re right... I shouldn’t have gotten that drunk -”

“I’m only here , talking to you , because of your daughter. If it was just you, I wouldn’t give a damn because you’re an adult and if you make your bed , you can just lie on it. It wouldn’t bother me. But Mina...she’s not capable of making the right choices. She need a father who can make the right choices, because whatever shitty choice you make, your daughter is going to be there along for the ride whether she wants to or not. You drive your car off a cliff tomorrow , she’s going to be there in the car seat laughing because she doesn’t know the consequences of your choices. “

I clenched my fists to keep my voice even. To stop myself from yelling.

“I have something for you. “

I grabbed the brown paper wrapped canvas from under the table.

“It’s a painting . Your wife commissioned me to make this a year ago when she got pregnant.”

He froze so eerily still that it made me nervous.

“At first , i wasn’t sure if i should be giving it to you because well... because i was marrying you ... I wasn’t sure that it would be right, coming from me ...because I was taking your wife’s place after all...”

i laughed.

“Now I know that's just bullshit. I don’t have a place in your life. I’m a nobody. This isn’t about me. This is about you. She told me back then that you were nervous about being a father. That was all she said. And she wanted me to pain this. “ I held the canvas out to him.

“You can see it. I’m going to go stay with Jin oppa for a few days. I want you to see it. It shows how your wife saw you. The kind of father she hoped you would be. I want you to see it and make a choice. You can either get the help you need. “ i took a deep breath, “ Or I’m going to tell Yoongi that you’re incompetent to be a father. He’ll file charges , “ I had to close my eyes to get the next words out, “ and you will lose custody of your daughter.”

Jungkook inhaled sharply, hands curling into fists on his knees.

“i hope you make the right choice.”

I wrapped both my arms around myself and walked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note. :

I’m so exhausted I’ll tag people tomorrow!

.@girlinthemikrokosmos @xius-exos @sugainfireslex @yunkichiee@kpopstudybee @ephyraaaa @peachoney9795 @ggukkieland @veronawrites @blr1004 @tinyhoagiepartylover @btsis7okay@squishyjk @itsdingdong @emmmui @honeeybunneey @yeonkiminnie

@just-me-and-myselfs @delicate-snow-flake @kpop-lore @beautifulvirgobutterfly @sumzysworld @btsmylife21 @teresaisla

.@melrosaeparker @taestannie @dchimminie @ meraki--life @somewhereinthestarss @mawwnsterr @kookiesbreaky @chimchoom

#jungkook smut #jungkook fics #jeon jungkook #bts fanfics #bts smut fic #bts smut #bts fics #bts #jungkook #bts scenarios

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whimsicallyreading · 3 years

Text

An angsty one-shot for your day. I stayed up way too late to write this.

CW- drinking

Aelin keeps the letters stacked neatly on her desk.

Each letter is stamped, addressed, and ready to mail. In tiny marks on the back, she writes the date every individual one was written. The envelopes are his favorite shade of green. A deep, pine color that she’d painstakingly scoured every stationary shop to find.

Delicately, Aelin seals the latest envelope and adds it to the growing pile.

My Love,

It’s almost winter here in Orynth. I know it’s your favorite season and you are probably sad to miss out, so I took a Polaroid of the clouds coming in over the staghorns for you.

Do you remember how we’d sit in front of Mistward every year and watch the first snow storm come in over the peeks? We would drink hot chocolate and talk for hours. About our families, our futures, anything and everything. It’s still one of my favorite traditions.

In fact, it’s where I am right now. Writing this letter to you. Just because you are overseas doesn’t mean you get to bail out. I bought two hot chocolates, but I suppose I’ll have to drink yours for you. What a shame.

Writing to Rowan was her weekly tradition since he got deployed. No matter how busy life got, every Friday she wrote him two full pages front to back. Whether she got to sit at her desk or had to scribble against the rusty bench at the bus stop, every inch was covered in her hand writing.

That was her personal rule. They had to be handwritten. Aelin felt it meant more that every piece of the letter was entirely from her. So she keeps a collection of colored pens handy for whenever the urge to speak to her husband grows to be too much.

At the bottom of the last page, next to her signature, Aelin always kisses the paper with red lipstick. Maybe it’s cheesy, but it’s the same shade she wore at their wedding.

You could see the ghosts of the color along his jawline in their favorite photos together. His beaming smile, the smudges of red on his face and the collar of his white dress shirt. A remnant from the happiest day of her life she thought would bring him comfort.

My love,

Winter is here! It’s so cold outside. You would say it’s this frigid every year, but it just feels different this time. Maybe it’s because you aren’t hear to snuggle up with and your side of the bed is empty? You were always so warm.

I keep your slippers by the couch. They are ridiculously huge on my feet, but I swear they still feel like you just walked in them. Your warmth is still there.

You would laugh if you saw me hobbling around the apartment in them. My toes slide all over the place. Truthfully, your feet are atrociously large, dear- Still they remind me of you, so I love them.

Aelin gets home late from work that night.

Humiliated tears sting her cheeks, even as she rubs them away. The feeling of that creep, Cairn’s, hands lingering on her ass.

She was used to fending off handsy patrons. What bothered Aelin is that when she complained to her boss, Erawan, he publicly berated her for instigating the customers.

None of the other waitresses would meet her eye when she looked for back up. Grave, the bartender, sniggered through the entire dressing down. Aelin could still feel their eyes on her skin as Erawan accused her of being provocative.

Rowan would have demanded she quit the job. He would have marched down to the bar and broken Cairn’s face. Possibly even held him back so Aelin could do it herself.

Aelin needs the money, though. Rowan’s accounts were frozen due to some stupid technicality at the bank. Without her paycheck, she would lose the apartment.

Sniffling, Aelin slides her feet into Rowan’s slippers and plops at her desk. It isn’t Friday yet, but she’s desperate to speak to him.

As her hand flows across the paper, Aelin knows she won’t describe the days events to him. He’s under enough stress without her work drama adding to his worries.

My love,

Yulemas is next week. Aedion is in Caraverre with Lysandra and our new nephew. Lorcan and Elide are going up from Perranth to stay with them, but the roads are so frozen in Orynth I may just stay here this year.

Besides, work is busy right now. They need someone to man the place for the people with nowhere to go for the holidays.

Maybe I’ll host a little celebration at the bar. Like we did that one year when we got stuck in the Hostel in Rifthold. We made the best of a bad situation, and it was the first time you told me you loved me. I think I’d like to relive a little of that this year.

I miss you. Please come home.

Aelin lays in her bed the night before Yulemas and sobs.

Ugly, guttural noises spill from her chest and she soaks their pillows with tears. The newest envelope is clutched against her chest, and the building stacks mock her from their spot across the room.

Her heart is so raw. Aelin knew it was a bad idea to count the letters, but there was so many. Curiosity got the better of her, and now she was bleeding for her mistake.

Fifty-six.

A full year of letters she hadn’t been able to send.

Rowan had only ever written her twenty before he was declared missing in action.

A year ago, she’d been hanging bobbles and decorating a tree knowing her husband only had a few weeks left of his tour.

Aelin had painted a welcome home banner, and her whole family made plans to come and spend the holiday with the soon-to-be-reunited couple.

She had his slippers waiting by the door. Rowan’s favorite blanket was laundered and folded on his side of the bed in case he wanted to lay down. Aelin had it on good authority that the bed would be one of the first places they visited when he arrived. Emerys had even given her a mixture of their favorite hot chocolate to make.

Everything was perfectly in place for his return.

That’s what when the soldiers arrived at her door and her world fell apart.

Lorcan came home a week later. He hugged Elide and she cried into his shoulder. Happy tears. So unlike the ones Aelin had been shedding. Her friend beamed ear-to-ear, as the love of her life gathered her into his arms and squeezed.

It was a touching sight, but Aelin could feel the hot knife being twisted in her chest. Elide’s happiness caused her physical pain, and it made her feel so selfish. She didn’t begrudge Lorcan his life, or Elide her joy- Aelin just missed her own husband.

Elide and Lorcan spent Yulemas together. Kissing and holding hands. Lysandra finally announced her pregnancy. Aedion’s expression when he opened the box with the baby onesie inside was priceless. Her cousin whooped and hollered, almost dancing with the prospect of becoming a father.

Aelin smiled. She gave her congratulations and celebrated with her family. They hugged, and laughed. Aedion took care to include her in everything, and she played her part even as she tried to ignore the concerned looks her family exchanged behind her back.

Aelin made it to lunch before she couldn’t take it anymore.

Fenrys was the one to find her having a panic attack on the bathroom floor. She hadn’t even known it was a panic attack. Aelin just assumed the pain of losing her soulmate was finally killing her. The tightening of her chest and the body aches felt enough like a heart attack to be convincing.

He gathered Aelin in his arms and counted breaths with her. His twin brother Connal was lost in the same fight where Rowan had gone down. Fen had seen the whole thing from the cockpit of his plain, and nothing he did could’ve saved them.

He shared his pain, and for the first time Aelin felt like someone understood her.

Fenrys let her lean on him as they excused themselves from the celebrations. They drove to some bar in Caraverre and spent the rest of the day wallowing over whiskey.

Aedion came to collect their drunken asses later that evening. Worry etched into every line of his kind face. It only made her feel ashamed that she’d rained all over their happy day.

He was going to be a father, and she’d forced him to spend his time fretting over her instead of reveling in that news.

Now here she was a year later. Aelin wasn’t going to subject herself to that again. Couldn’t. She wouldn’t force her grief upon anyone else this year, either. Just because she was hurting didn’t mean that everyone else had to suffer with her.

So, as Yulemas Eve came, and before she could finally distract herself with work, Aelin pulled Rowan’s blanket over herself. She’d spritzed it with his cologne, donned his shirt, and pulled his socks over her feet. Aelin did everything she could to feel surrounded by him.

Then, alone in their bed, she watched as the clock ticked down to midnight.

Rowan,

Wherever you are, I hope my words reach you and that you know you aren’t alone. I wish with every ounce of my being that I could trade places with you- would give anything, just to know where you are.

It breaks my heart, to be without you. Every breath seems pointless. I lied in my last letter. The roads aren’t frozen. I’m not needed at work. No one really needs me to be around them. I just couldn’t spend another holiday surrounded by happy people when the other half of my heart is gone from me.

When you come home, I will feel like celebrating again. I’ll wrap my arms around you, and we can make up for lost time. Just please, don’t make me wait too much longer.

Merry Yulemas, my love. We will be together again one day.

Until then, I’ll keep on writing, only so long as you don’t yield.

Sincerely, your loving wife

Aelin

#throne of glass #rowaelin #fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #aelin #rowan #angst fic #write me #one shot #tog fanfiction #tog

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strawberryjamsara · 3 years

Text

Keiji and Sara’s relationship throughout yttd

In which I analyze the found family dynamic between Sara and Keiji then nobody reads it. But jokes aside, I realized back when that anon asked me for my thoughts on Sara that I had enough thoughts on the relationship between these two alone for its own meta so here goes. What Sara and Keiji’s relationship means in the grand scheme of yttd.

ALSO THIS IS NOT SHIPPING SHIPPERS GET THE FUCK AWAY

Sara when she meets Keiji is distrustful of him. And how can she not be? The guy has some creepy bags under his eyes, doesn’t seem to care about the situation, and for no reason is gravitating towards her. And his response when she asks why the hell he keeps putting a random stranger in charge? “Because you’re cute.” Yeah. I’d stay within 50 feet of this guy too Sara. Especially when he’s not spilling a word about himself.

Alright we might as well get the gross part out of the way. To clear things up. In the Japanese version, the word he uses “Kawai” can be seen as a more fatherly word to use with a kid. But the comments about going on dates from himself and from Shin? Those are still there. And I still think they’re really uncomfortable and wish they weren’t in the game period but we can get thematic significance out of them.

We still don’t know Keijis reasons in game for being attached to Sara. My theory? She’s his handicap. He was told to get close to the higher scorer who could easily backstab him, and he’d be stuck with her. It just kinda makes sense to me. But since that’s just a theory I won’t lean to heavily on it for support. But let’s talk about his comments.

Keiji… well, it’s shown at many points in the game that Keiji just thinks of himself as doomed to be a bad person. It can be seen during his day two negotiations when he calls himself a killer and explains he can’t even trust himself so Sara shouldn’t really bother and more explicitly so is the classroom scene between him and Ranmaru where he says he isn’t fit to protect Sara because of his sins. The flirting is both a way to distract people, and to put distance between himself and Sara. He’s not really “protecting” her.

Okay gross bit nobody wants to talk about is over I promise we won’t talk about it again. Let’s talk about Russian Roulette. In this scene, Keiji once again tries to make Sara the leader with no explanation, but then, Sara yells at him, something he didn’t expect. And through this he actually reveals something huge. The source of his trauma. His shooting. For Keiji to have actually revealed something that big, I think that this is the first moment he began to see Sara past whatever reason he first started making her a leader. This is the beginning of their bond.

This bond gets solidified over chapter 1-2s investigation. Keiji is still putting her in charge because his handicap said to build her up for whatever reason, but they’re able to have chats, and she keeps picking at his armor. He reveals his dark sense of humor to her, and she, suspicious just sort of keeps him at arms length. Also she rides his shoulders to screw in a light and he complains which is funny. The scene post Nao also helps the two of them sharpen investigative skills together, as they discuss the mystery of Miley, and Mishimas head.

Then another significant scene. The white room. I call this scene significant because, instead of letting Sara investigate the gruesome scene of the first trial, Keiji for the first time, allows Sara to walk out. Something that will become relevant later but until then, Keiji has begun to put Sara’s well-being above serving whatever purpose he had by building her up. So keep that in your pocket while we go over the main game.

There’s only two points for the main game I want to cover. While Keiji and Sara do put their heads together a few times, Sara still doesn’t fully trust him, so I will only go over 1. When Shin brings up Kai’s emails. Keiji has been fully logical this whole time, questioning everyone’s alibis including Nao’s who he saw the emotional plea from, but when Sou brings up potentially damning evidence of Sara, he just asks if he read the emails wrong. 2. When Sara is panicking over being chosen for the final round, Keiji loudly shouts “GET A GRIP SARA!” With a serious expression. Before quickly backtracking and going back to a devil may care expression. This shows he is both already emotionally attached to Sara, but unwilling to stake himself towards giving himself to a new cause.

Anyways, he stops her from pressing the button blah blah blah, onto chapter 2! I’ve made a post about this before but it seems as early as here, Keiji is trying to talk Sara down from pushing herself further. But at this point, Sara has already dedicated herself to the role because her best friend died due to her priority to protect everyone. Keiji sees the problem and he tries to get her to rest up, but he still doesn’t spend the time to have a serious talk about it because as he says in the classroom. He isn’t fit to protect her. He doesn’t think of himself as a good person who can help her. He thinks of himself as a murderer and he doesn’t allow himself to recover from the trauma.

Sara however is starting to rely more on Keiji. He’s been willing to comfort her in her times of grief and furthermore, she has something to relate to him on. They both have deaths of important people in their lives they feel responsibility for.

There’s also the fact that Keiji sees a lot of his old self in Sara. An idealistic person, being beaten down, and worrying over the idea they might be becoming a bad person. He feels the same as her.

Not to mention… Keiji follows through on his promises. He actually tells Sara about the person he respected like he said he would which establishes a further sense of trust.

However, something that tears that sense of trust apart is the tokens scene. When Keiji doesn’t even let Sara hold 50 tokens, it raises suspicion. Sara already knows he shot a person- what more could he have to hide? That scares her away. The negotiation event is an attempt for Keiji to win back her trust. But it slowly turns into Keiji’s self-loathing session. And his declaration maybe Sara shouldn’t trust him.

However, time passes enough (and Keiji supports Sara enough in the final attraction) for them to get together and investigate in 2-2. And there’s a lot of moments I can talk about there so I’ll be just doing a few rapidfire things. So first, Sara is in peak weird girl mode and Keiji can hardly control her chaos. Second, Keiji makes a full on decision at one point to go against Sara when she’s putting herself in danger of getting caught for their search so they can hide. Third, his response to “I don’t intend to die” when he asks “will you die with me” is that’s a good answer.

And fourth… a moment I really wanna touch on… Keiji watches something that could easily incriminate Sara. It’s not just some word of mouth thing like with Shin who lied about things several times before this point. But in that moment, he still relies on Sara and says he wouldn’t feel bad betting his life on her. The message is clear. Keiji supports Sara unconditionally.

Now let’s talk about Keiji totally dropping Sara’s ass with the card trades.

The way Keiji makes his trades is very telling. He first, steals a keymaster card from either Sou or Kanna to give to Sara. This is supporting Sara, but it’s doing it in a way that supports his view of himself. That he’s a scumbag who would steal someone’s immunity just to give it to someone he likes more. And would a shithead like that be “worthy” of sacrificing themselves and taking the card for Sara? (And he knew she had it. Qtaro had to tell him for their plan to happen) no. Instead he essentially opts for a revenge plot. A plan to ensnare Shin and kill him for pawning off the sacrifice to Sara. Basically, he wanted to fuck up Shin like how he fucked up Megumi. Nice going Keiji. This is… kind of his low point in the story.

But 3-1….. man this chapter hits in all the right ways. I don’t remember 3A that much, (although I do know that Keiji shows a lot of concern over Sara potentially being triggered by Joe memorabilia) and also if you fail the Keiji Midori fight you can have Sara attempt to tag Keiji and he rejects. And how can we forget… the mr policeman flashback. As Sara says, this is Keiji’s first time opening up on his own.

And then… coffin saga. Sara through everything is not willing to let Keiji die. Although she’s had her ups and downs with him, leaving him to die is inconceivable to her with everything they’ve been through together. So she opts to sign the contract both times she is offered it.

Keiji clearly is somebody important to Sara. Important enough that Ranmaru bringing him up is enough to snap her out of her murderous trance. Enough that she throws logic out the window when she has a sign he’s okay.

Likewise, the scene in the classroom for Keiji is… a huge step. When he’s alone with Ranmaru, who is unstable, in that classroom, his priority is Sara. He turns his back to the threat to hold Sara and try and make sure she’s okay- dumb move, but it shows how far he’s come.

And again, I want to reiterate- Keiji is Sara’s anchor. At the banquet when Sara is about to give up, she imagines Keiji talking to her which brings her back in the game. Much like Joe did back in chapter 2. The message is palpable. Keiji is Sara’s new Joe. And when Keiji comes back to comfort her? He’s now fully willing to sacrifice himself. It winds up not being needed seeing as Qtaro is the one that died. But in that moment, we see Keiji has made a huge leap from chapter 2. He almost sacrificed himself for Gin. And he would’ve used his final moments to comfort Sara. He’s embraced that he’s a father figure. He allows himself to be a good person.

Anyways I don’t know how to conclude this and I’ve been writing for hours. Bababooey.

#your turn to die #kimi ga shine #yttd #keiji shinogi #sara chidouin #gothitxt

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niffala · 3 years

Text

Forgive Me (Pt. 1)

Pairing: Steve Rogers & Mutant OFC (Marison)

Summary: Steve desperately wants to make everything better, but is it too little, too late?

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, jealousy, hostage situation, some fluff

A/N: This is a sequel to Dirty Secret. Reader insert version found here. 18+ only due to smut. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated.

Dirty Secret Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Chapter 1

[2 months later]

“So you do know where she is.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, “Steve…”

Steve could only nod, giving his friend a broken look. “I'll see you at home.” He turned and started back the way he came.

Bucky wasn’t sure what else to say to his friend. Things were still tense between them. Both for how Steve treated Marison, and for shutting him out the way he did. The punk got stuck in his own head and refused help. His stubbornness was always his downfall. If he would have just talked to him, maybe he could have gotten through his thick skull earlier, before Steve destroyed everything.

Marison’s absence was felt heavily among the team. They all missed her. Not just her getaway skills, but her friendship. She was always kind to everyone, always willing to be there, helping anyway she could. She cared for all of them and that love was missed. None of the others knew the real reason for her sudden departure. It was a hard secret to keep, but Bucky continued at her request. She didn't want any of them to look at Steve differently. After everything he put her through, she still wanted what was best for Steve. And Steve, well Steve thought Marison was what was best for him. If only he pulled his head out of his ass sooner.

Still, Bucky couldn't help pitying his friend. He hated seeing Steve hurting so badly, but it was the punk’s own dumb actions that caused this mess. Steve was his brother, but he fucked up. Maybe some pain was due. Steve had been sullen and isolating himself since Marison left. He hasn’t spent much time training or with the team. Bucky knows he wasn’t sleeping well because he can hear him crying most nights. He wasn’t going to bring it up though, Steve has been blowing up over small things lately. He didn’t want to tip him over that edge of grief he was precariously balanced on.

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

The weeks passing did nothing to dampen the all consuming regret Steve felt. Forgoing his morning runs, he would just lay there staring at the ceiling. Tired and drained. If anyone on the team noticed, no one said anything. He was grateful for that much. Steve was certain he’d spill the whole thing with the smallest provocation. He preferred to keep his anguish to himself. His bed felt so cold without her in it. His whole life felt cold now. As he did so many times before, Steve pulled out a yellow garment from inside his pillowcase. It was the dress Marison left behind. Blood stains now accompanying the grass ones from Steve kissing it after Bucky beat his face in. Steve held tightly to the fabric, imagining Marison in his arms, her lips on his, willing his heart to stop beating so it would stop hurting.

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

Steve had been looking for Marison since she left. Four months later and still no lock on her. She was like a ghost. Steve would constantly beg Bucky to tell him where she was. He had yet to budge. Only confirming that she was doing okay. Bucky was torn between friends. Him and Steve were getting back to a good place in the friendship. He wanted to help, but didn’t want to break Marison’s confidence. Although his resolve on the matter was slowly chipping away.

When Steve loved he loved hard, and permanently. Bucky could only do so much to comfort his friend. He still had trouble understanding why Steve gave into Sharon. Why even for a moment he thought he was doing the right thing. But his friend was stubborn, and dumb enough to think he could have both. That Marison would always be there. Steve lost someone special chasing after someone he thought he once wanted. So trapped in his nostalgia to not realize what he had until it was gone. At least he saw now that he had been taking her for granted. Should have appreciated what he had enough to not betray her the way he did. However unintentional he claimed it was. Marison didn't deserve that pain.

Bucky remained close with Marison. She seemed better each time he talked with her. She'd been traveling the world, site seeing. Her abilities saved her a fortune in transportation and entrance fees. Hotel rooms and meals too. She'd been staying at the best hotels for free. Orbing into empty rooms and raiding the well stocked mini bars. Bucky’s stayed with her a few times. Both willing to overlook the moral ambiguity of their actions.

“Please Buck, I need to find her.”

“I have to try. Even if there is just the slimmest chance, I have to try.”

Bucky gave in. Walking over to the map on the wall and pointing to her last known location. The rest was up to Steve.

Steve practically jumped out of his chair. “Thank you Bucky… I promise I’m going to get my girl back.”

Chapter 2 (coming soon)

#niffala fics #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut

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brittanyslibrary · 3 years

Text

Liar ✦ Shota Aizawa

part two

Summary: she had a choice to make; allow hundreds of innocent people to die by the hands of an elite gang of powerful villains, or partake in a mission that involved faking her death and infiltrating said gang to save the lives of those innocent people.

she chose the latter; hoping that Shota Aizawa would understand.

He’d noticed her attempting to put distance between them, he should have known then what was about to transpire. Aizawa always prided himself on being a very observant man, always able to predict the actions of others.

He never could have predicted seeing her face plastered on every news outlet, newscasters calling it a “sad but honorable death”.

He didn’t care that she died with honor, he didn’t care that she would go down as one of the most selfless heroes in history.

The love of his life was gone, her soul that had once been a lingering flame in the darkness of his own now snuffed out, turning him into ash. Into nothing.

There was no sound when he fell to his knees in the faculty room during the lunch break. He couldn’t feel Hizashi’s hands gripping his shirt as his tired eyes were pried wide open and taking in the scene of steaming rubble before him.

His stomach had twisted uncomfortably as he desperately tried to regain his breath, but the way his chest burned and filled his entire being with utter agony was too much to ignore.

He’d broken bones before, gotten his skull crushed and had enemies nearly gouge out his eyes. None of that pain came close to this, it didn’t even touch this.

He fell into a hole. Hizashi might have been the only one to understand exactly what he was going through. It was a repeat of when they’d lost their close friend, years ago when they had been U.A alumni themselves.

“Why wasn’t I there to protect her?” Shota had asked him one night, after Hizashi had picked him up from the sidewalk outside of a crowded bar, wasted and tired and utterly broken.

She had meant so much to him, even though he wasn’t one to voice his emotions, his concerns. Hizashi could see how he doted on her, the little classroom aide who climbed the pro charts and stole the hearts of everyone she met.

She was kind, that’s what he remembered about her the most. Always offering a hand, and that’s how her and Shota had began to see each other more often.

She hated seeing him so exhausted, so she took on the grading while he took on his parols at night.

It was only two weeks after they’d begun that routine that Hizashi had weaseled out of him the crush he harbored on his assistant.

After a few bumps and misunderstandings due to her obliviousness and Shota’s failure to properly communicate, they had finally decided to give a relationship a try.

Hizashi had never seen Shota as happy as he was in that long year and a half that they were together.

“How could you have known? She was on her way to school and someone cried for help. She was doing her job, and she would have hated it if you were even able to step in” he attempted to reason with his friend, now sitting on the plush couch in his living room.

The water Hizashi had poured him shook in Shota’s trembling grasp. God, he just missed her.

He missed the way she would laugh at his deadpan expressions, or hug him from behind whenever he made them coffee in the morning, or how she kissed him so softly, as if she didn’t want to break him.

But in the end, she did break him.

Hizashi knew this, as he cradled his drunk friend in his arms while he openly sobbed. Never did he think he would see the ever stoic Eraserhead this way.

But grief had a funny way of twisting people until they snapped.

The funeral was almost as devastating as the incident itself. She had no family left, and whatever friends she had before she moved to Japan couldn’t make the trip.

But her fans, and all the staff and students at U.A, felt the profound impact her death had on their beloved home room teacher when he was forced to cut his speech short and escort himself to the bathroom, where he dry heaved into one of the toilets since there was nothing in his stomach for him to throw up.

The school was quiet, especially classroom 1-A. Where you would normally hear Bakugou’s screaming, Midoriya’s rambling and Iida’s attempts to calm the excited chatter of the students, now only the quiet drone of the pre-recorded training videos could be heard.

Mr. Aizawa didn’t return to class for two straight weeks. When he did, he seemed to be the same hard ass, stony expressioned teacher they’d always had.

Those close to him could see it, though. The facade crumbling slowly, slowly until whatever was left of him would crumble with it.

For three months he had been trapped in a sort of haze. He moved through the motions of life, but he was not living. He felt like he was just another corpse that he was too slow to save.

Until one afternoon, a Saturday where he’d normally spend it holed up with her until their paroles would take them out into the fresh air, that the newscaster’s uttered her name again.

But it was no memorial, no way of paying respects. They were astonished.

So was Shota, dropping his can of beer at the scene unfolding in front of the camera.

“Six of Japan’s most lethal thugs almost got away with the bombs they had set up under Mustafu’s sewer system today, which would have brought the entirety of the city down on the citizens and killed hundreds. But, but somehow...somehow our beloved hero has risen from the dead and stopped them. If you can’t recognize her under the rugged disguise she’s wearing, that’s pro hero Electra Heart!”

There were paramedics on either side of her, helping her through the crowd. She looked so different, hair cropped short and an eyepatch slung over her right eye. Her skin was ashen thanks to the debris that must have fallen on her during whatever fight broke out when she apprehended those responsible for this, and she was a lot bulkier under the layers of clothing and armor she wore.

“Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi is taking questions at this time. Let’s pan over to the press and see what they’ve got for us”

The stiff man seemed so proud of himself as he recalled the events that led to the capture of these villains. How, pro hero Electra Heart, faked her own death to go deep undercover and infiltrate this gang, how her sacrifice had saved so many lives and effectively taken down an entire gang of villains that had operated underground until now.

They screamed questions at her as she was loaded up into the ambulance, but she refused every single one, opting to stare vacantly forward.

Then, his phone rang, and he had to tear his eyes away from the screen.

“She’s at S City Hospital, let’s go see your girl. She looks pretty beat up” Hizashi’s voice sounded grave despite the giddiness he attempted to lace it with.

There were so many emotions that he had felt in those moments. Relief, sadness, joy, anger.

That anger was the easiest to handle, as it was like an anchor of safety he could latch onto.

So, he hung up the phone, and continued to stare blankly at the television screen....

#my hero academia #anime oneshot #oneshot #shota aizawa #shouta aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa x oc #eraserhead #present mic #hizashi yamada #class 1 a #bnha fanfiction #bnha #reader insert #multiple parts #bnha angst #comfort #its okay everything works out in the end I swear

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taizi · 3 years

Note

68 for Luffy?

PROMPTS LIST

68. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

you already know what it is... smile again

The funeral is more of a roadtrip. Ace's family and Luffy's family and a rag-tag caravan of Jeeps and luxury SUVs, crawling down the coast.

Luffy sits in the backseat of Shanks’ car with one hand on the rosewood urn in his lap and the other fisted in Zoro’s sleeve. Carrot is tucked in on Luffy’s other side, having won the spot by virtue of hopping in the car before anyone could stop her and then locking the door. Following her lead, Sanji ducked into the passenger seat in similar fashion. Their friends were outraged.

The antics made Luffy laugh-- a rusty, disused sound-- and Sanji added it to the mental tally that none of them will admit they’ve been keeping.

The grief lives in their house like a physical thing. A monster they have to make space for. They have to move around it every day, even have to stop and feed it occasionally, because they learned the hard way that starving it won’t do any good.

Ace’s family has been understanding. Luffy is theirs, too, in an unspoken, roundabout way. Ace loved his little brother so much that it bled over into every single person he spent more than five minutes with. Because that’s just the kind of person Ace was, that’s just how he loved. It makes sense, Sanji thinks, that the people who adopted Ace would love like that, too.

When they met Luffy in person, almost three weeks after the accident-- this tiny slip of a kid in an over-sized unbuttoned shirt, chest and shoulder wrapped up in gauze and medical tape, hair still a mess from when he tumbled out of bed at four o’clock in the morning-- the first thing Luffy said was, “Sorry. I made everyone wait.”

There was a brief moment in which no one moved or spoke or even breathed too loudly, and then Marco knelt in front of him.

“Your big brother would find a way to kick our asses if we tried to start anything without you,” he said, and when Luffy smiled, Marco smiled, and it seemed a little bit less like the world was ending.

So they planned a trip to this little seaside village only nine hours south of where they lived now, that only Luffy seemed to have ever heard of.

“Why there, Lu?” Thatch asked.

That’s what Ace called him, and probably where Thatch picked it up. Luffy didn’t flinch even though it looked like he wanted to.

“It’s where we lived after we left home,” he said. “We go back there every March.” He blinked, and added, “I’ll have to go by myself now.”

Then he turned and pressed his face into Usopp’s shoulder, who was closest. Usopp put his arms around him and looked ready to absolutely throw down with the next person who so much as looked at Luffy, but clearly the last thing Ace’s friends wanted to do was cause anymore hurt.

So Marco, Thatch, Robin and Franky stepped outside to finish making travel arrangements on the back porch and Sanji stepped into the kitchen to finish making dinner. It wasn’t the first night since getting out of the hospital that Luffy finished his meal, but it felt like an accomplishment every time it happened. Marco and Thatch accepted an invitation to stay and eat, and neither of them made the “Lu” slip-up again.

A message pops up on Shanks’ phone, where it’s mounted in a cradle on the dash. Sanji can see it from where he’s sitting. He doubts anyone in the backseat even noticed.

“Looks like we’re gonna call it a day,” Shanks says. Ahead of them and behind, their friends’ cars are throwing on their blinkers, merging right onto an exit ramp. “This is what you get for traveling with old people, Luffy. We gotta get out and stretch every so often or we’ll shrivel up like raisins.”

Zoro snorts, and Luffy laughs again. He won’t know they’re stopping due to Law’s very stern and specific orders, passed onto and enforced by Chopper. “You’re not that old!” he says loyally.

He and Carrot lean over to peer out Carrot’s window together, and even though Luffy moves stiffly, the pain from his chest is only a fleeting thing. Zoro is keeping a sharp eye on him, as he’s done since the day Luffy woke up in the hospital-- shit, Sanji amends inwardly, since the day he and Luffy first met, nearly ten years ago now. If Luffy twists too far or pulls something, Zoro will know.

For now, they’re content to let him enjoy whatever pieces of this trip that he can.

They converge upon an unsuspecting hotel that Nami had booked for their group in advance, spending a small fortune on comfortable five-star rooms. Shanks is covering all the costs, something he outright refused to budge on. He even paid their collective bill at dinner the night before with a flourish, probably just to piss Marco off more.

Sanji stepped outside to have a cigarette and ended up catching the tail-end of their heated, largely one-sided argument.

“Pops said you’d do this,” Marco hissed. His sense of responsibility must have been stung by the matter being so cleanly lifted out of his hands. “The second he’s in remission he’s gonna kick your ass.”

Shanks smiled and said, “When he’s well again, he’s welcome to try.”

It meant something to Marco, Sanji thinks, that Shanks said ‘when.’ It took the fight out of him. And maybe the fight is the only thing keeping him upright sometimes, because he had to lean against Jozu for a little while after that.

Luffy, drifting by with Chopper and Zoro towards the big crane machine games in the restaurant lobby, paused beside Marco. Perceptive, even when buffeted by wave after wave in his own ocean of sadness, his eyes wide and drowning and grave.

Then he shuffled over and pressed himself against Marco’s side.

It was a familiar gesture. And from the way Marco stiffened, and then started shaking, it was something Luffy must have picked up from his brother.

“Come help me win a shark,” Luffy said.

“Sure,” Marco said hoarsely. “All the sharks you want.”

“Oh, please,” Jozu scoffed, “we’ll be here for three years before Marco wins at a crane machine. Leave it to me, Luffy.”

It took the better part of an hour and all of their spare change, but Luffy walked out with a grin on his face and a bright orange shark that was inexplicably wearing a little cowboy hat. And Sanji clocks it as the exact moment when the overall mood of the trip took a turn.

Now they pile into the hotel lobby, a loud, obnoxious circus troupe of grieving people in good company. They each, to a man, are trying to either drown out their hurt or trick it into something else. It’s sort of working, Sanji thinks. He’s more worried about getting thrown out than he is anything else.

The woman behind the desk, who looks like she’s coming up on the end of a very long shift, passes over their room keys without comment. Clearly she doesn’t get paid enough to deal with them.

There’s no chance to fight over the sleeping arrangements, because all of Luffy’s friends are piling into the same suite. Jozu, Marco, Thatch and all the others wander in about an hour later. Sanji will have to wonder if Robin texted them or something, because their timing was perfect.

Luffy, sitting still under Chopper’s patient hands as his wound was redressed, was beginning to lose his grip on his good cheer. But Thatch holds up two handfuls of bulging takeout bags, and Marco snatches up the remote on the coffee table saying, “Lilo and Stitch is on right now, what the hell are you guys watching? What is this?” and Jozu ruffles Luffy’s hair in his huge, gentle hand like he’s been doing it all his life. And Luffy brightens right up again, distracted long enough that the encroaching sadness doesn’t stick.

It’s a more pleasant sleepless night than Sanji has had in almost a month. He downloads a local app and has some groceries delivered to their suite. By the time Benn shepherds a groggy Shanks inside and sits him down at the counter the next morning, there’s cappuccino and French toast and scrambled eggs.

Shanks stares at the spread, and then at the clock, and then looks at Sanji as if wondering how on earth it’s possible for a person to accomplish this much before nine AM.

“You know there’s a free continental breakfast downstairs?” he finally says weakly.

Sanji twitches, ready to snatch the coffee right back on principle. “How dare you,” he settles for, and Brook, beside him, laughs out loud.

They set out a little before eleven, just barely making their checkout time. Sanji and Carrot both lose their seats in Shanks’ car, Franky flipping them off from the front passenger seat, Thatch saluting cheerfully from the back. Marco swears, but not as loud as Carrot does, and it’s honestly funny enough that Sanji can’t even be mad.

He winds up sitting with Marco in the back of Vista’s SUV.

“You can smoke if you want,” Vista says from the front, and Sanji smiles. Ace’s family is a polite group. He wouldn’t have guessed it from all of Ace’s stories about bar brawls and holding cells.

“Thank you,” Sanji says, “but I’ve been trying to cut back. Chopper’s always after me about it anyway, and since Zoro quit drinking, seemed like as good of a time as any.”

There’s a brief pause, not quite long enough to be a lull in conversation but long enough that Marco is clearly gathering what he wants to say in both hands so he doesn’t lose it.

“He stopped drinking after the accident?” Marco asks carefully.

Sanji’s stomach sinks a little, as it always does at the reminder, but he nods.

“The day we got home, he poured everything down the drain. Just like that, cold-turkey. If I tried that, I’d end up punching a customer at work on day one. And then my old man would probably promote me as punishment.”

Vista guffaws, slapping the steering wheel, and Marco grins.

Sanji thinks of Luffy eyeing all the empty bottles in the recycling bin, turning to Zoro with those big vacant eyes, and saying, ‘You don’t have to do that.’

‘I don’t have to do anything,’ Zoro replied without missing a beat. ‘I want to.’

It was little moments like those, Sanji thinks, that coaxed Luffy back. Little moments that reminded him of how much he loved his family. How much they loved him, too.

We’d do anything for him. Sanji turns his head to look out the window, at the unfamiliar scenery dashing by, and thinks, We’d go anywhere.

“You have arrived,” the GPS announces. Vista pulls up behind Nami’s Jeep and puts the car in park.

Sanji and Marco pop their doors open and step out onto the gravel road.

There’s not much to look at. Telephone poles with drooping lines, a waist-high wire fence that surrounds a field of tangled, overgrown grass, and beyond that, the treeline of what is probably a dense, wild woodland.

The only building for solid miles is probably the tiny cottage sitting a few dozen feet back from the road. It’s condemned, clearly, windows boarded up, roof caving in, little stone walkway all choked through with weeds. But maybe once it was someone’s home.

Zoro proves the theory when he asks, “This is your old house, isn’t it?”

Luffy grins, looking at it like he’s seeing something the rest of them can’t. He probably is.

“Yup! Look, we painted the mailbox. Ace said it was stupid, because we never got mail, but he still made sure he got red.”

Sanji drifts closer, hearing the gravel crunch of footsteps behind him as everyone else did, too. Sure enough, the crooked little mailbox bears some faded paint-- what was once bright, childish colors are now barely visible at all. He can only just make out a lopsided ASL.

“Our spot is back here,” Luffy says.

He leads the way around the house and up the knoll behind it, carrying Ace in both arms. The sun is drifting steadily lower, but it’s not on the verge of setting quite yet. The wind is lively and insistent, tugging at their clothes and their hair as though vying for their attention.

The climb is a short one. In a matter of minutes, Sanji is overlooking the ocean. It’s a beautiful view. It probably looked like magic to the two little boys who lived here together, dreaming of better and brighter things.

“This is where he should be,” Luffy tells the rest of them. “It’s the only place we should put him.”

Marco has to swallow a few times before he can speak. “In the ground?”

“No, the sea.”

He holds the urn out expectantly, but Marco hesitates to take it. He kneels in front of Luffy the way he did weeks ago when they first met.

“I think you should be the one,” he starts, but Luffy shakes his head, cutting him off.

“I’m not tall enough,” he says plainly. “Ace has to go far or he’ll be annoyed.”

Thatch chokes out a wet sound that might have been a laugh, and Sanji finds himself smiling a little bit, too.

This hurts, but it’s not an unbearable pain. Maybe it felt that way in the beginning.

But Marco reaches out and touches Luffy’s face-- his palm on the side of Luffy’s neck and cheek, cradling it for just a second, the way a big brother would-- and then he stands up. And it looks a little bit like there’s less weight on his shoulders.

He takes the urn from Luffy, smoothing his thumb over the plaque on the front.

“I wish I met you sooner, kid,” Marco says. “You’re everything he always said you were.”

“He loved you guys, too,” Luffy replies.

They all stand together, on some wild hillside above an empty stretch of beach in California, and watch the dust fly off on that same playful breeze that guided them here.

“Now you’re together,” Luffy says, to the sky or the sea or someone else entirely. It’s goodbye and promise and reassurance, all wrapped up in a quiet, unassuming tone. “It’s okay. I’m still here, but it’s okay. Neither of you left me alone.”

Then he steps back a little, hand reaching. Zoro takes it, because that’s just physics at this point, but Shanks moves, too, wrapping his arm around Luffy’s shoulders from the opposite side. A steady pillar of strength for Luffy to lean against, and he does, just for a moment.

And then Marco whirls around and seizes Luffy, as if he’ll literally combust if he goes without a hug for one more second, and then Thatch and Franky and Usopp jump in after that, and Shanks only barely manages to extract Luffy before all the rest of them go down in an undignified tangle of limbs. A few more of their friends-- opportunists, all of them-- dog-pile the group with complete satisfaction.

Luffy doubles over, absolutely wheezing with laughter.

Nami takes a picture on her phone, giggling through a steady stream of tears herself, and then switches to video. Benn and Vista both extract promises from her that she’ll post everything.

Sanji watches over his family-- much larger than it was even a week ago-- and thinks that Ace would have loved this.

Ace’s older brothers try to leave the urn with Luffy, but Luffy won’t have it.

“You let me hold onto him for this long,” he says. “Thank you.”

Clearly in the camp of people who would burn the world for Luffy in a heartbeat, Marco takes the empty urn out of Luffy’s hands and replaces it with the silly shark stuffie they won out of a crane machine.

“You can hold onto him for as long as you want,” Marco tells him quietly. “Anyone says otherwise, you point ‘em right to me.”

They part ways with promises to meet up again next month, and a round of tight embraces exchanged.

When they get home, Luffy climbs up on Franky’s shoulders, and sticks the orange shark in place of pride on the mantle. He has to move a few picture frames to do it, brow furrowed as he bends all his concentration to the task, but he makes it work. Even though it’s a little crowded, everyone fits.

Franky sets him carefully back down, and Sanji says, “We can get it down for you whenever you want it.”

“No, it’s okay,” Luffy says, only looking up at it for another minute before he gazes around at the rest of them. He’s not quite smiling, but the corners of his mouth are soft, as if he’s about to. “He can see everything just fine from up there.”

#one piece #op #opfic #asl brothers #monkey d luffy #marco the phoenix #black leg sanji #portgas d ace #(is there in spirit rip)#ensemble cast i dont want to tag dkgsg #my writing #lyresbird #smile again

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nancydfan · 3 years

Note

Okay but honestly everyone (besides Mia) doubted Ethan and his abilities the entirety of the game- especially Chris.

Obviously all the lords are like “ha ha you’ll never get past me!” And then insert picacho surprised meme when he does.

Even Miranda seems to be like “whAT THE FUCK” when Ethan stumbles his way back to fight her after she swore she killed him. Like yes she knew he was “special” somehow but never realized the full extent of his abilities.

But Chris himself doubted Ethan the most honestly.

I feel like when Chris and his team found and got Ethan and Mia out of the Baker’s house in RE7, he probably just thought Ethan was lucky. I mean, here’s this totally average guy and you’re telling me he killed/ severely injured the members of this family who had been infected with the mold, as well as killed Eveline himself? Like Chris was probably like while this man definitely was able to fight his way out there’s no actual way he was able to do this on his own, maybe he’s over exaggerating or whatever.

But he doesn’t say anything, and offers to teach Ethan military training (at least I think it was Chris, only because they seem to be more familiar with each other in RE8) because even if he’s over exaggerating the man clearly has talent and capabilities to make it out of that house in relatively one piece.

And then they get into training and Chris is incredibly impressed. For what appears to be your typical average dude he’s got pretty good fight tactics and techniques, and can handle a gun pretty well. Of course there’s always stuff to improve on and Chris teaches him to the best of his abilities, and here he gets to know Ethan.

This is a man who always offers help to anyone who needs it, and goes out of his way to comfort people whenever they need it. He truly loves his wife, he never makes a “gotta get back to the old ball and chain” or other “I hate my wife” jokes, he truly appreciates her and respects her with every part of him.

He has a great intuition, both in fighting and just when reading people. When Chris or someone around them has an off day he immediately picks up on it and is able to sense what that person needs. With Chris he will casually mention that his door is always open, he might not know the answer but Ethan is always willing to listen if Chris needs it. And though Chris at first insists that he’s fine, somehow Ethan Winters gets him to open up a bit (not completely, but Ethan’s genuine kindness begins to crack Chris’ ‘tough guy’ mask he puts on that lets Ethan see a glimpse of the real him. Chris’ squad is in utter shock of this because it took them YEARS to achieve this), and they both can sit down and share the horrors they both have experienced and for once in Chris’ life he starts to feel that maybe he can actually recover from what he’s seen.

Ethan also somehow knows exactly what to say. Though sometimes he’ll have to pause to get the right words and thoughts together, when he finally speaks his words are exactly what Chris (and others) needed to hear, even if Chris won’t admit it.

Ethan is the guy who when he sees injustice he doesn’t stay quiet, he is loud and makes sure that whatever happened doesn’t go unnoticed. He somehow remembers everyone’s birthday and gets them the present that they actually want, even if the person and Ethan have only talked once.

And though Ethan has the capability to be serious when needed he can be light hearted and funny, and though sometimes his jokes are simple puns or the same reiteration of the joke you’ve heard 100 times you can’t help but laugh because he somehow made it sound different, somehow breathed some fresh life into it. He has his favorite shows that he always makes sure he is home by to watch, and though he is at his core gentle and kind he can also be tough, and isn’t afraid to call you out when you’re wrong.

Ethan is the least judgmental person you will ever meet, and is truly open minded and will listen to you completely and openly. He isn’t afraid to change his opinion when he realizes he was wrong. When him and Mia throw a Christmas party they always invite Chris and he is always touched by it.

It is through their time together training that Chris realizes that while yes Ethan is a completely normal man he is far from completely ordinary and boring.

And when he announces he’s going to be a father Ethan’s eyes completely light up, and he spends hours of talking about all the beautifully mundane things that accompany preparing to become a parent and dealing with the trials of Mia’s pregnancy. There is no doubt in Ethan’s voice or heart that lead anyone to believe that he thinks that there’s a possibility that Rose might be unhealthy due to both of their exposure to the mold. Ethan runs on optimism and truly believes that she’ll be alright, that though they’ve been through hell him and Mia finally got the happy ending they deserve, and Chris has never been so happy for him.

And then, of course, everything comes crashing down.

When Chris learns that Miranda has infiltrated the Winters’ home he is infuriated on their behalf (can’t this family catch a fucking break?) and does all he can to help them (but little does he know he actually will make it worse). He doesn’t tell Ethan whats going on because they need the element of surprise to get Miranda and Chris knows Ethan will not lie low until he gets there. While Ethan was incredibly lucky to survive Dulvey there’s no way he can survive Miranda’s wrath.

(Also I think there was a document saying they didn’t know if Ethan was compromised or not, hence why Chris didn’t tell Ethan immediately what was going on but still he was over the line)

When Chris discovers that his team escorting Ethan, Rose, and Miranda had crashed and died, leaving Miranda in sole control of Rose he is devastated but thinks to himself that he must keep going, there’s no time to grieve or feel guilty for mistakes when Miranda is moments away from completing her ceremony.

And then he gets word that Ethan Winters has been spotted in the castle. And he shakes his head because of course he’s still alive, Ethan must run on luck and sheer will because how else would he have survived the crash?

And though Chris wants to go after him to tell him to sit his ass down so his team can do their job he can’t because again time is a luxury he can’t afford and he hopes Ethan’s luck saves his ass again this time. And though he hopes for the best can Ethan really take on these god-like creatures?

And then he again gets word that Ethan Winters somehow is defeating all of the lords. He’s going through them as if they’re simply ants beneath his feet and somehow he is still going. And though this is great Chris and his team are rapidly losing the element of surprise they’ve been trying to maintain since coming to this village.

And when he encounters Ethan again it almost hurts to see this man who once sat with him for hours talking about nothing, offering to help him with his taxes look at him with such fury and disdain that it almost sends shivers down his spine, that even though Chris is a highly trained operative he for some reason feels like if Ethan chose to kill him Chris wouldn’t last long. He wants to explain but time won’t let him (or is it the fear that he was wrong all along and once he spits his words out he’ll realize this).

And when Chris runs into Ethan at Karl’s factory he finally gives up and figures that he could use Ethan’s luck on his team, if Ethan can eliminate the four lords without any military help then he’s got to be able to have a shot and killing Miranda with Chris’ and his team’s help.

And when he hears Miranda kill Ethan on the phone it is a blow to his gut that he wasn’t expecting, because Ethan Winters has made a bigger impact on his heart than he thought possible. And it is in this moment of grief that he realizes his mistakes, that he was wrong to alienate Ethan, the man who went through hell twice without looking back to save his family.

The guilt only gets worse when he finds Mia, because he has to explain to her that it’s his fault that her husband is lying dead without his heart due to Chris’ own negligence. And when Mia tells him that he doesn’t understand how special he is he desperately wants to hear it, despite his mind telling him that’s she’s wrong, he wants Mia to tell him that Ethan can survive the impossible because he wants a second chance to make things right.

And when he gets the report again that Ethan Winters is somehow alive and is on his way to the ceremony site Chris’ heart soars and he wonders how could he have ever doubted Ethan Winters and his ability to come back to the people he loves time and time again.

(Also I could be wrong here because I don’t remember if Miranda blocked Chris out once she realized he was there but the rest of this is going to go off of the assumption that Chris was present and could see what was happening)

It is not until Chris makes it to the ceremony site and sees the battle between Miranda and Ethan that Chris truly realizes that he has severely underestimated this man for 3 whole years.

He’s seen Ethan fight before- he saw it in training and heard his squad give him the summary of what they saw when Ethan fought the other lords, but this is the first time Chris has seen Ethan TRULY fight, and on his face where Chris is so used to seeing compassion and love and carefreeness is suddenly replaced by anger, resentment, and pure determination because his daughter’s life is on the line and he will fight until there is nothing left of him to keep that little girl safe.

Chris watches in awe, because even though Ethan looks like he is barely staying together, like he is one breath away from falling apart he is still fighting. Maybe it’s because the mold is being destroyed or maybe Ethan’s injuries are so severe that the mold can’t be bothered hiding itself anymore but he finally sees the proof for himself that Ethan Winters is no longer human- Miranda is tearing into him and Ethan does not care- the long gashes she makes onto his body are desperately trying to suture themselves back together with small tendrils of black, this mold desperately trying to keep Ethan together when Miranda is so intent on tearing him apart.

He watches in amazement as Ethan somehow manages to avoid her claws and her own tendrils of mold reaching out to pound him into dust. He watches in amazement as it doesn’t matter how much Miranda damages Ethan- he gets back up again to unload another round of bullets into Miranda without slowing down, and watches in amazement as Ethan actually begins to win this battle- this perfectly normal man versus a god-like creature and Ethan is actually winning despite all the odds stacked against him.

This is Ethan Winters, he thinks, and while the mold might have given him regenerative properties the mold did not give him the drive and determination Chris sees before him- though Ethan Winters is infected but he is still Ethan Winters, each bullet he fires is coming from him, and his pure will to survive and save his daughter. The mold did not change him to a super hero because this is who he is at heart, a man who is willing to risk it all just to make sure the ones he loves are all right.

And if he didn’t already respect Ethan before he certainly does now, and he curses himself for being so ignorant and not letting Ethan in when he had the chance.

But that’s alright- because Ethan Winters has just eliminated Miranda before his eyes and is running to his daughter, and now Chris will have a lifetime to make it up to him.

But then he sees Ethan collapse to his knees in front of him, and his feet are moving before he even thinks to go because there’s no way, this man did not survive this hell just to die on him now.

Chris is relieved that Ethan is still (barely) conscious as he puts his arm around the man to help him out. Time has never been on their side and it certainly isn’t now, as Chris practically drags Ethan out because he has failed him too many times and he refuses to fail him again.

He tries to get Ethan to keep fighting because it seems that all of the life has drained from this man, the only part of him that’s full of life is the arm carrying his daughter because even when he’s on the brink of death he will not let anything happen to her. Chris brings up Mia and it pains him to hear the loss in Ethan’s voice, as if he’s already decided he’s a lost cause. Chris will not let this happen, he points out that they’re going to blow the village sky high and that’s why they need to get a move on and-

Suddenly Ethan is pushing Rose into his arms, and Chris can’t believe he gets the privilege to hold this man’s daughter after all he’s done and Ethan is draping Rose in his worn out coat and begging Chris to teach her to be strong and Chris won’t have this, Ethan Winters will not die on his watch he will get home to his family and live to live a perfectly normal life, when suddenly Ethan pushes Chris out of the way of a mold tendril that acts as a barrier between them and Chris watches in horror as Ethan stumbles backwards, the man looking more and more like a walking corpse versus the man he just saw moments ago, full of life and determination to kill Miranda.

“Goodbye, Rosemary” Ethan chokes out as he starts to stumble his way back to the ceremony site, and Chris can almost feel the pain of Ethan’s loss at not being able to be with his daughter and wife just within the utterance of these two words.

And Chris is calling Ethan back because dammit it doesn’t have to be like this but Chris knows what a man hell bent on something looks like, and Ethan is already almost out of his sight and the whole village is collapsing around him.

Cursing Chris turns around, cradling Rose close because Ethan somehow miraculously chose to trust Chris in protecting her and like hell will he let something happen to her after this. Chris will teach her to be strong and how to be brave, and not because he’s a man and Mia is incapable of it, but Chris will teach Rose how to be strong like her father was, and how to defend herself because both he and Ethan know that Rose’s abilities will make her a constant target for people to use for their own gain.

When Chris hands Rose back to Mia the joy on her face is short lived and suddenly she’s demanding where Ethan is, begging them to put the plane back down because there’s no way in hell he’d leave them willingly and just as Chris utters that Ethan chose to sacrifice himself the bomb goes off and he feels another blow to his chest, and it’s as though he can’t breathe for a second. He sees the realization hit Mia, and that though Ethan has survived the impossible time and time again can he really survive being blown to bits?

Chris can barely contain the grief and guilt that is consuming him as he looks out the window at the site where Ethan Winters’ luck has run out, the site where Ethan Winters has now died for the second time.

He glances back at Mia and Rose, and each sob Mia lets out cuts him like a knife because he knows he is responsible. He promised this little family that he would protect them and he failed. He failed Mia, he failed Ethan, and now he has failed Rosemary as she must now navigate her life missing a father who would have done anything for her.

Chris will not let Ethan die in vain. He will protect Rose, he will teach her how to fight and how to defend herself. And though he wants to reach out and comfort Mia he knows it will be unwelcome, but looking at Rose he will not fail her again.

He made a promise to Ethan Winters that he fully intends on keeping.

I’m sorry what did I do to be so emotionally attacked like this 😆

I’m SOBBING OMG. Ty really. I feel like I have nothin I can add to this because GAH MY HEART. You get it. You understand these characters and I was smiling so huge as you described Ethan because YES ALL OF THIS. Then the pain as Ethans end approaches. AND CHRIS’ PERSPECTIVE THROUGHOUT AND HIS PROMISE GOING FORWARD.

Anyway someone get me tissues. This was so beautiful. Bless you 💜💜

#thanks for the ask nonnie 💜💜💜#resident evil #resident evil 8 #ethan winters #chris redfield #resident evil spoilers #mrs joe speaks #long post

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mollymawkwrites · 3 years

Note

Geralt/Eskel/Jaskier: Geralt brings Jaskier to Kaer Morhen and Eskel/Jaskier get their shit together first (communication skills!!) and Geralt comes to a Realization - dp/spitroasting - the turn of seasons, contrast of bright/dark, warm/cold

... this took way too long and I am so sorry about that. As an apology, here’s more than 5.5k of feelings, pining and misunderstandings, with a sprinkle of smut (as an apology, and not at all because I have zero self-restraint). Thank you so much for the lovely prompt, I hope this lives up to expectations 💖

I’ll post the link to Ao3 in the replies when this is beta’ed, sorry if there are any big mistakes!

CW: post-Mountain break-up, smut, Geralt’s Canonical Self-Loathing.

Falling in love with Eskel is the easiest thing Jaskier has ever done.

It happens slowly, but with a certainty that Jaskier has rarely felt before. Like sinking into a feather mattress, silk sheets caressing your skin.

It was never that easy with Geralt. Jaskier fell in love with him fast, sure, but he also fell hard, had to pick himself up afterwards, bruised and bloody.

The first day he arrives at Kaer Morhen, two weeks after his rescue from Nilfgaardian spies, Jaskier is miserable. The trek up the mountain has been hard on him, but harder even was his underwhelming reunion with Geralt, who barely acknowledged him, grunting that he'd be safer in Kaer Morhen before leaving Jaskier to decide by himself what he wanted to do.

His heart aches with two years of missing his best friend, finding he misses him even more now that they’ve been reunited. He'd always told himself he didn't hold any hope of his relationship with Geralt ever evolving into something more, but getting his heart broken on the top of a mountain had made him realise he'd somehow managed to fool himself too.

So he's prepared to spend a winter avoiding his former friend, though Geralt would probably not even call him that, holing up in whatever drafty room he's been attributed, and then he'll find a new name and dye his hair a different colour and hope it's enough to fool the Nilfs. It's a hard choice to make, renouncing the name he's made for himself, the reputation he's built over twenty years of hard work and songs he's still proud of today. But it's all tied too tightly to Geralt, and neither him nor his heart will survive it. Maybe, if Jaskier the Witcher’s bard is forgotten by everyone, his heartbreak won't be so obvious.

That pathetical plan is countered as soon as he steps foot in Kaer Morhen, and Geralt's brothers and mentor introduce themselves to him. They are similar, yet so different to the Witcher he's known for more than half his life.

They welcome him, if not with open arms, at least with warmth and smiles and, in Lambert's case, snarky banter Jaskier takes great pleasure in reciprocating.

Eskel doesn't draw his attention much at first. The dark-haired Witcher is friendly, tugging Geralt in a bear-like embrace as soon as they've passed the gates, and shaking Jaskier's hand with a kind, genuine smile Jaskier can't help but return.

But over the next couple of weeks, Jaskier spends more and more time with the amber-eyed wolf, discussing music and poetry and history as they execute their respective chores. After only a few days, Eskel is the one who searches him out when Jaskier is helping Vesemir in the kitchen or feeding the chickens in the courtyard. He shows him around the keep, more than the customary tour Vesemir gave Jaskier on his first day here. Eskel is full of stories from his childhood in the keep, and he is not greedy with the details. Jaskier can sense the underlying grief when the Witcher talks about the boys who didn't make it in the Trials, but Eskel doesn't linger in the sadness and makes sure to tell Jaskier all about his and Geralt's most imaginative antics.

The Witcher's company is a delight, and a nice distraction from Jaskier's heartache. When he can't take Geralt's silence and avoidance anymore, he seeks Eskel and his warmth, bathing in the man's attention. After a month, he finds himself dreaming of tanned hands and dark hair as much as pale skin and silver strands.

At first, he feels guilty about it. Eskel does not deserve to be someone's second choice. What he deserves is unconditional, untainted love.

But as days pass, frost a little thicker on the blades of grass in the courtyard every morning, the mountains losing their warm autumn colours to shades of blue and grey, Jaskier and Eskel gravitate towards each other until they collide, softly and without a sound. It happens so naturally, Jaskier almost thinks he’s dreamt it when he wakes up one day at dawn, and instead of his freezing room, he opens his eyes to a broad, golden-skinned chest. His cheek rises and falls with the slow breaths where it rests on one plush pec, a pool of his own saliva glistening in a smattering of dark hair.

He hasn’t felt that relaxed in years, and only part of it is due to the frankly fantastic post-sex bliss he’s still basking in. There is no anxiety, no second thoughts. Eskel made sure to make his intentions clear before they fell into bed together, shocking Jaskier into silence with how open with his feelings he was. The bard still can’t help but compare how completely different Geralt and Eskel are.

They agreed to take things slow, to enjoy each other for the winter and then see where things take them. Jaskier knows he’s falling in love with Eskel, but it doesn’t feel scary. He won’t be alone once the time comes to make a decision.

It takes another week for him to move into Eskel’s room completely. They don’t bother hiding their new… entanglement, to the others. No secret can be kept in a keep full of Witchers, and neither Eskel nor Jaskier cares to pretend.

Lambert gives them shit, to no one’s surprise, and Ciri squeals in delight, the gossiping princess resurfacing for a few moments. Vesemir claps Eskel on the shoulder, before reminding all of them that they have chores to do.

Geralt doesn’t say anything.

Jaskier didn’t expect him to jump in joy, he’s not sure the Witcher is even capable of such displays of emotion, but the white-haired Witcher doesn’t even look at them, only ushers Ciri outside to the training grounds.

Over the next few weeks, Jaskier only sees him at supper. He’s gotten used to avoiding Geralt, to keep out of his way, but until then they would still meet in the hall when the weather was too bad for the Witchers to train outside, or at lunch when they would accidentally come in for a bite at the same time. Eskel and Geralt spend a considerable amount of time together, and Jaskier would often find them together doing whatever repair was needed, but these days, when he manages to escape his chores long enough to seek his lover for a stolen kiss or a quick fuck, Geralt is nowhere in sight.

When Jaskier asks his amber-eyed wolf one evening after they retired to their room, Eskel confirms what he already suspected.

“I haven’t seen him in a while, no,” the Witcher rumbles softly, a hand tracing arabesques on the bare skin of Jaskier’s back. “He goes hunting alone almost every day. He does that, sometimes, when he’s upset, though I’m not sure what it’s about, this time.”

Jaskier hums, pensive. His heart clenches at the thought of Geralt avoiding his own family. Guilt creeps on him, its long, sharp claws burying themselves under his ribs. How dare he come to Geralt’s only home, his only place of peace and acceptance, and claim a place in his brother’s heart? He’s done a shit job of fulfilling Geralt’s wish of having him out of his life, hasn’t he?

A strong arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him closer to the furnace of Eskel’s body.

“What’re you thinking of that makes you smell so sad, songbird?”

Jaskier smiles at the endearment. His wolf is generous with his affection, and Jaskier is selfish. He wants it all. But does he have any right to it, if he is taking it from Geralt?

“Do you think it’s because of us?” He asks, turning his head to rest his chin on Eskel’s sternum. “That Geralt is keeping to himself, I mean.”

Eskel frowns pensively. “I… don’t know. I suppose, in a way. But I think he’s mostly wallowing in his own self-loathing.”

“When isn’t he?” Jaskier teases.

The Witcher huffs, a sad half-smile tugging at his scars. “I was afraid he’d be jealous, or upset, hoping maybe it’d help him pull his head out of his own ass, but I’m afraid it’s buried even deeper than I thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I didn’t want to get between the two of you, but I know Geralt. He ain’t gonna do anything about it, and then he’ll regret it once it’s too late.”

That doesn’t make any sense. “Eskel, there’s nothing between me and Geralt.” Well, that’s not quite true. “I wanted there to be something, for a very long time, but… well, turns out I was the only one wanting it. If anything, I thought I was the one getting between the two of you.”

“Songbird, there hasn’t been anything but friendship between Geralt and I since before you were born.” Sadness clouds Eskel’s eyes for a second, and the piece Jaskier has been missing clicks into place.

“You and Geralt were together?” He asks, voice tight with emotion.

“Not sure we can even call it that,” a bitter smile twists Eskel’s scars in a painful grimace. “We found… comfort, with each other, when nothing else could give us that. But it hasn’t been like that in a very long time.”

“Why?”

Eskel shrugs with one shoulder, almost dislodging Jaskier from his position. “People change, songbird. And when you live as long as we do, well… you can’t expect things to stay the same forever. I’m glad we stayed as close as we are, despite him not wanting us to be anything other than friends anymore.”

The Witcher kisses the crown of Jaskier’s head and flicks his wrist, snuffing out the candles, a clear sign that the conversation is over. Jaskier doesn’t push, conscious this is a sensitive subject, but that doesn’t keep him from staring in the darkness for a long time after Eskel’s breaths have slowed and deepened, troubled by this new facet of the two men he loves.

Geralt’s reaction makes more sense now, why he would act so uncomfortable around Eskel and Jaskier now that the two of them are a thing. If Geralt still has feelings for his friend, then… seeing Jaskier, the man he hates and despises, whom he holds responsible for his every trouble (quite unfairly, in Jaskier’s opinion, but still), taking his place in the arms of the man he’s been in love with for longer than the bard has been alive… well, Jaskier can understand why he’d be upset.

There’s just a tiny bit of pettiness coming from the selfish, ugly part of him, that sings at the idea. Geralt broke his heart on that mountain top, isn’t it simple justice that Jaskier breaks his heart in turn?

But that line of thought is quickly smothered by guilt, and, more upsettingly, love. He’s loved Geralt for half his life now. No matter how hurt he might be, all he wants is for him to be happy. Or as happy as a self-loathing Witcher can be.

And it’s so obvious that Eskel loves him, too, now that Jaskier thinks about it. There’s a softness in his eyes and the corner of his mouth when he looks at Geralt that isn’t there when he’s around anyone else, an ease and a trust that Jaskier used to attribute to long term friendship but can only come from two bodies knowing each other intimately.

Jaskier can’t put himself between the two of them, can’t bear the idea of robbing both men of the little happiness they can find in a world that doesn’t accept them. And if he was Geralt, he would probably let Eskel down gently, taking himself out of the way and hoping the other two would get their shit together and talk, but he’s not, and if there’s a way that the three of them can find even a little satisfaction in this mess, then he’s going to try his best and make it happen.

He only hopes Geralt will listen to him.

It takes him a few days to work up the courage to approach the sullen White Wolf, and then another two to catch him alone, one night after dinner.

Unsurprisingly, he finds him in the stables, brushing down a Roach who seems more interested in nipping at Scorpion’s flanks than in the brooding Witcher in her stall. A wave of fondness overcomes Jaskier at the familiar sight, and he has to shake himself to remember what he’s come here to do.

“Geralt,” he says, softer than he intended. The Witcher doesn’t startle, but he tenses visibly, his grip on the brush turning white-knuckled. Jaskier lets out a trembling sigh, his resolve the only thing keeping him from turning away and finding shelter in Eskel’s arms to cry his heartache away. “We need to talk.”

Geralt doesn’t gratify him with an answer, like maybe if he ignores Jaskier long enough the bard will go away. How he didn’t learn that doesn’t work in the twenty years they’ve known each other, Jaskier has no idea.

“It’s about Eskel.” That, at least, has the merit to catch Geralt’s attention, the Witcher turning his head just enough to peek at Jaskier from the corner of his eye.

“He told me, about… about the two of you. What you were to each other.”

Geralt sucks in a harp breath. “It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”

And Jaskier can see this is a lie even with the Witcher turning his back to him. His heart clenches, for his best friend, despite everything that happened, and his lover, who have not allowed themselves to have what they both so visibly crave. “It does, though. It does matter. I’m not… I have no wish to keep you from each other, Geralt. I… I love him.” Jaskier chokes out, and something painful flashes in Geralt’s eyes. “And I… I…” he almost lets himself say it, bare his heart for Geralt to see, but he’s gotten too used to protecting himself, to hiding his most shameful truth. “I know you do, too.”

Geralt hangs his head between his shoulders, face hidden in the shadows, the warm, low light of the oil lamp he brought with him playing in his pale hair. “You’re making him happy. The two of you… you’re good, together. I am glad you found each other.”

“Are you really, Geralt? Because you’ve been avoiding us for weeks. It’s hurting him.” It’s hurting me, Jaskier doesn’t say, because none of this is about him. “Listen, I… I know you don’t want anything to do with me, I got that loud and clear, but if there’s a way… for us three to… to find satisfaction, then maybe…”

“Speak plainly, bard.”

Jaskier exhales, nerves making his throat tight. “You know I don’t believe in exclusive relationships,” and Geralt doesn’t, either; Yennefer and him both had lovers on the side, it was no secret between them. “If you and Eskel wanted to… start again where you left things, I see no issue with that. I want him to be happy, too. I… I want you to be happy, Geralt. You’re still important to me, even after everything.”

He’s said more than he wanted to, and Geralt doesn’t even deign to look at him. That’s so familiar it hurts. Jaskier smiles, an ugly thing full of regrets and unspoken words, and turns on his heels. He’s done his part. It’s up to Geralt to make a choice, now.

“Jaskier,” a broken voice says as a hand wraps around his wrist. He startles, and turns to find Geralt watching him with pleading eyes. It’s such an absurd sight, it leaves him speechless for a minute, and Geralt takes it as an encouragement to speak. The Witcher clears his throat. “I don’t… You’re…” the way he interrupts himself in obvious frustration, brow furrowed and lips thinned, is almost endearing. “You’re important to me, too.”

Tears swell in Jaskier’s eyes, and he tugs at his wrist to free it. Geralt lets him go without resistance.

“Please don’t lie to me, Geralt. I can take the hurt, I can take the rejection. But I won’t take the pity.” He almost spits the last sentence, and a surge of bitter satisfaction warms his painful heart at Geralt’s flinch.

“I’m not, I swear. I… I’ve missed you, Jask, I’ve missed you so much.” His voice is husky, weighed by shame and regret, and Jaskier has no doubt he is saying the truth. Geralt is a lot of things, but a good actor is not one of them. “There hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought about what I said to you after the dragon hunt. None of it was true, I… I was furious, but it wasn’t your fault. I’m so sorry.”

When Jaskier let himself dream of this moment, while walking down of the mountain or in the dark of the cell the Nilfargiaans kept him in, he’d imagined how he’d make Geralt grovel, how he’d tell him about every little thing Jaskier had ever done for him, to make his life easier, to show him how he could find happiness even on the Path.

As it is, Jaskier only stares at Geralt for a few seconds before tugging him into a crushing embrace. “Fuck, I’ve missed you too, you stupid Witcher.”

Geralt makes a wounded noise but lets himself be engulfed in Jaskier’s arms, tucking his nose in the hollow of his throat. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out, warm breath humid against the bard’s skin. “I wanted to come looking after you, but I had to make sure Ciri was safe…”

“I am glad you did,” Jaskier says, petting the hair at the nape of Geralt’s neck. “But why didn’t you say anything once Yennefer brought me to you? Geralt, we climbed up those damn mountains together. It’s been two months since we’ve been here. I thought you didn’t… that you didn’t want me here.”

Hands twist in the back of Jaskier’s thick woolen cape. “I didn’t know how to. While we were still on the Path I was worried about Nilfgaard catching up to us, about keeping Ciri and you fed and safe, and I thought this could wait until we were here. But then…” Geralt makes a frustrated noise so familiar it has Jaskier smiling in the crown of his head.

“Words were hard to find?”

He feels more than he sees Geralt’s nod. “And once you and Eskel became… involved, you seemed so much happier. I thought I’d only make things worse, and that you deserved to move on. To… forget about me. But I do want you here, Jaskier. If I had any right to it, I’d want you by my side always.”

A breath catches in Jaskier's throat, and tears prick at the corner of his eyes. Those are words he's dreamt of hearing for so many years, and he's finally hearing them now, in a stable smelling of horseshit and hay. It's so simple, so mundane, and yet he can barely bring himself to believe this is truly happening.

And maybe it's because he is stunned, or maybe because he's done hiding, but suddenly it feels so important that he says the truth.

"Geralt, you… you must know…" he pulls back, putting just enough distance between them that he can see Geralt's suspiciously red-rimmed eyes, that he can see how the Witcher reacts to his words. "I would have followed you anywhere, until my feet could carry me no more. You know that, right? I've never been subtle," he laughs wetly. Geralt is looking increasingly confused, like he has no idea what Jaskier is talking about, and that just doesn't make sense.

Making a frustrated sound, Jaskier twists his hands in the lapels of Geralt's thick winter coat, tugging him forward slowly so the Witcher can stop him if he wants.

But he doesn't, and their lips meet, harshly enough that Jaskier hopes it'll carry his meaning even through Geralt's thick skull.

It must work, because next thing he knows, he is being ravished quite thoroughly by an enthusiastic Witcher, a hand at the back of his head and another at the small of his back, under the hem of his cape. A thumb rubs circles at the base of his spine, and he's slowly melting into a puddle of contentment, his only thought a constant stream of this is happening, oh my fucking gods this is happening.

There's little time for the realization to set in, though, as a draft of cold wind fills the stables, and a soft "oh" pushes Jaskier and Geralt to separate.

Just outside of the circle of light cast by the oil lamp, Eskel stands watching them, eyebrows drawn up in surprise. Jaskier's guts clench in guilt and he steps away from Geralt hurriedly. "Eskel, it's not-" what you think, he doesn't finish, because that is a lie, and Eskel deserves better than lies.

But there's little else Jaskier can say to justify how Eskel just found him, kissing his best friend and former lover passionately in the middle of the night, when he should have been back in their shared bed an hour ago.

He knew he'd fuck up somehow. That's so classic.

The three of them are silent for a heartbeat, the horses shifting in their stalls the only noise in the cramped space, and Jaskier wants to cross the space between Eskel and him so badly, but he knows he doesn't have the right to, and it's killing him.

Just when his agony reaches a peak, Eskel's mouth curls at the corner, softness blooming in his eyes. "I see you've gotten your shit together," he says. " 's about time."

This is so completely out of what Jaskier expected him to say that he doesn’t manage to find a suitable answer. Surprisingly, Geralt is the one to talk next.

“I’m not going to take him from you,” he says cautiously.

“I know,” Eskel grins. “I know that if I asked you you would never even look at him again.”

Jaskier spares a glance for Geralt, and a pit opens in his gut at the acceptance he finds in his eyes.

“But that would make the three of us miserable,” Eskel adds. “And I won’t do that to Jaskier, or to you.”

“Eskel, what are you saying?” If his soft-hearted Witcher is suggesting what Jaskier thinks he is…

“I don’t see why things between us should change, songbird, if you wished to spend some nights in Geralt’s bed. Of course, if you two want to be exclusive to each other,” the first glimmer of doubt insinuates itself in Eskel’s kind voice, but he keeps speaking bravely, “then I will not impose myself.”

“No!” Jaskier says, a little too loud, his hand shooting up to grip at Eskel’s wrist. Roach nickers irritably in her stall at the disturbance.

“I… I mean, if both you and Geralt are amenable, there is space in my bed for the two of you.”

Eskel’s dark eyebrow arches. “Don’t you mean in my bed?”

But his hand closes around Jaskier’s reassuringly, warm and soft as he looks at Geralt. “What do you say, Wolf?”

And Geralt is watching them both with equal part fear and want in his eyes, like his deepest desire is just in reach but he isn’t sure if it’s not going to burn him at the first touch. Jaskier extends his free hand, and he can feel Eskel tensing infinitesimally beside him, careful to keep a relaxed posture, but as worried as Jaskier that their white-haired Witcher is going to bolt out the door to a more familiar loneliness.

Geralt surprises them both by taking Jaskier’s hand with an air of firm resolution, crossing the space between them slowly until he stands close enough to share their warmth. Eskel raises his left hand, cupping Geralt’s jaw with infinite softness. Jaskier can see in his eyes the same pride he is feeling himself, at their white wolf’s bravery.

The air leaves Jaskier’s lungs in a rush when the two men’s lips meet like they weren’t ever meant to part. The contrast of Eskel’s golden skin against Geralt’s milky one is the most beautiful work of art he’s ever been given to see, and the tight heat in his lower belly tells him he wants to see more of it, now.

The two Witchers kiss for a long minute, Jaskier watching them with naked hunger and want, but for once not in a hurry to claim the attention back on himself. He makes an involuntary noise when Eskel nips at Geralt’s lower lip playfully, and two burning golden gazes turn on him. It’s so intense, so heavy, that another breath leaves Jaskier with a wheeze. A grin is spreading on Eskel’s handsome features, and Geralt’s eyes sparkle with interest.

“What do you think, Wolf? Do you think the two of us will be enough to satisfy our little bard?”

And oh, Jaskier does so want them to try.

Jaskier often prides himself loudly and brazenly of his carnal exploits as an Oxenfurt student and travelling bard. He’s had sex with numerous people of all genders and races, sometimes several at the same time, and has been praised for being a generous and enthusiastic lover.

Never has he been so overwhelmed after only a few minutes of foreplay.

There’s a cock down his throat and fingers in his arse and he’s trembling all over. Eskel is soothing him with a palm to his side, murmuring praise as he pushes three thick, oiled fingers to Jaskier’s prostate.

Geralt is brushing a hand down his cheek, feeling his own cock through the stretched skin. Jaskier sucks and licks with single-minded focus, moaning and wiggling when Eskel executes a particularly well-aimed thrust.

“Look at him, asking for more even when he’s stuffed full,” Eskel smugly says to Geralt as he gives a sharp slap to the bard’s arse. Jaskier yelps and jumps forward, Geralt’s cock hitting the back of his throat. He chokes and gags but doesn’t relent, breathing through his nose expertly. Geralt wipes the tears from his cheeks, the tender motion in stark contrast with his curses and animalistic grunts. It’s a contradiction Jaskier is quickly becoming addicted to.

He's so focused on his worship of Geralt's glorious cock he doesn't notice Eskel's fingers slipping out of his hole before they are replaced with the fat head of his prick. He gasps, letting Geralt's hard length slip out of his mouth, resting his temple against his hip as he breathes through the intrusion. He still hasn't gotten used to Eskel's girth, the stretch leaving him drooling and dazed every time.

They're all still as Jaskier accommodates it, testing the sensation with little clenches of his arse that have Eskel grunting and squeezing the plump flesh of his cheeks.

"'m good, you can move," Jaskier mumbles in the dip of Geralt's hip, and Eskel pulls out to execute a few shallow thrusts, getting the both of them used to the new sensations.

When he picks up speed, a hand threads in Jaskier's hair, pulling him to look up and meet a painfully tender gaze. Geralt holds him with one hand, the other grasping his own cock and guiding it back into Jaskier’s begging mouth, smearing a trail of pre-come on his cheek on the way.

It's easy to lose himself into it after that. He is full, warm and content, and he wishes he could stay that way forever, pinned between his two lovers, pleasing them with his wet mouth and his tight arse. Used for their pleasure alone.

He's only human, though, and his stamina can't compare to two Witchers'. He spills almost as soon as Eskel gets a hand on his cock, his wails muffled by Geralt's.

Geralt is caring enough to let Jaskier breathe as he comes down, cradling the bard’s face in his hands, but Eskel doesn't pull out. They've talked about each other's boundaries at length, he knows Jaskier can take more.

He's brushing his thumb where Jaskier and him are connected, hole fluttering with the last spasms of his orgasm. Jaskier whimpers at the sensation.

"Damn, you always get so loose and sloppy when you've come… do you think you could take the two of us like this?"

Jaskier's chest swells with a sob at the thought, arms trembling where they struggle to keep him up. The fingers around his jaw squeeze lightly, demanding his attention, and he meets Geralt's gaze once again.

"Answer to Eskel, pretty lark," Geralt rumbles. "Is it too much? Do you want more?"

"Yes," Jaskier manages to slur. "More, please. I want… I want both of you."

Geralt's pupils expand impossibly larger, and he bends to kiss Jaskier languidly.

He's a very thorough kisser, grunting at the taste of himself on Jaskier's tongue. Tears well up in Jaskier's eyes as emotion seizes his heart. Finally, he thinks, finally, I get to have him.

He shouts in the kiss, breaking their connection, when Eskel's thumb slips along his cock in Jaskier's hole.

The stretch is intense, even with how relaxed Jaskier is from his climax, and his arms give out, his face squashing into the mattress with a moan.

Geralt chuckles above him before gathering the weak bard into his arms, shuffling them so Jaskier is propped against his chest, while Eskel keeps opening him from behind.

It’s too warm there, pinned between his two Witchers, but Jaskier doesn’t have any complaint. Geralt resumes kissing him to distract him from the almost too intense stretch, and it works. When his breath grows too ragged, Geralt frees his lips and lets him rest his head against his shoulder for a second, lungs expanding with deep gulps of breath. Geralt and Eskel talk in hushed voices, but he can’t focus on what they’re saying, his every thought gathering around the point where he is stretched wider than he’s ever been around Eskel’s cock and fingers.

He is manhandled without difficulty, until he is straddling Geralt’s lap, Eskel still buried hilt deep in him, Geralt mouthing at his neck, two pairs of large hands roaming his sides, his back, his stomach.

“You ready, songbird?” Eskel rumbles in his ear, the low timbre of his voice piercing through the thick fog in Jaskier’s fucked out brain.

The bard nods into Geralt’s shoulder, whining pitifully.

“Did you actually manage to fuck words out of him, Eskel?” Geralt says with a hint of humour, squeezing Jaskier against him affectionately. “Might have to give you a medal for that.”

“Hm. What about a kiss?”

Jaskier smiles groggily at the sounds of intense making-out next to his ear, turning his head to admire the view. Geralt and Eskel truly are gorgeous together, skins lit by the candles, sweat beading on their foreheads, a drop rolling down the crease of one of Eskel’s scars to where his lips join Geralt’s. Their kiss is all teeth and tongue, playful and nipping, fighting for a control none of them truly cares about. It’s a sight Jaskier hopes to be graced with every day of his life from now on.

But for now, impatience is making him clench and grind around Eskel, who breaks his and Geralt’s kiss to grunt. “We haven’t forgotten about you, songbird, don’t worry.”

He cups Jaskier’s cheek in his hand to meet his lips, tasting of Geralt and himself.

There’s a new pressure at Jaskier’s entrance and he gasps in Eskel’s mouth when he realizes it’s Geralt’s cock pushing inside him. The three of them moan in unison when it gets past the ring of muscles and slides besides Eskel’s prick. They stay still, panting for a few moments, until Jaskier garbles a “move” and Eskel complies, taking the lead. Geralt, carrying most of Jaskier’s weight, is slower at the beginning, but picks up speed, moving in counterpart to Eskel, never leaving Jaskier empty even for a single second. They hit his prostate with every thrust in, overwhelming him so quickly he’s only a ragdoll between the two of them after only a few minutes of the same treatment.

Eskel and Geralt lavish his throat and shoulders with soft bites and soothing licks, meeting for a kiss over him once or twice.

Jaskier comes quickly, his cock rutting against Geralt’s toned abs, the friction barely enough to have him tip over the edge, coating the rippling muscles in thick white come. Eskel follows him rapidly, his thrusts growing erratic until he spills deep into Jaskier’s ass, whispering his name reverently in the short hair at the nape of his neck. Geralt joins them after a few more thrusts, grunting his release into Jaskier’s collarbone, goosebumps breaking over the skin of his back.

The Witchers’ softening pricks slip out of his ass and Jaskier hisses at the sudden chill of emptiness. A dribble of come drips from his sensitive hole, gaping and fluttering, and Eskel takes a sharp intake of breath at the sight, fingers coming to brush the abused flesh. Jaskier whimpers in protest, too tired to move, and Geralt shushes him with a kiss to the tip of his nose.

They bring him down to the mattress, arranging his limbs comfortably. One of them - Jaskier doesn’t open his eyes to check which - gets up and brings back a rag to clean him up and a waterskin, bullying him to drink even though all he wants is to lie down and sleep.

Finally, they all snuggle up together on the bed that is slightly too small for three grown men, the room stinking of sex.

There will be a lot to talk about, tomorrow when they wake up, but for now Jaskier buries his nose in the crook of Geralt’s neck, Eskel plastered to his back, both their hands meeting on his chest, over his slowly beating heart. Content. Warm. Jaskier drifts off with a smile on his face and a new song in his mind.

#the witcher #jaskier #eskel #geralt #jaskier/eskel/geralt #geraskel #my writing #prompt fill #nsft #greyduckgreygoose

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liloelsagranger · 3 years

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Night shift - finally a new Rocketshipping-fanfiction

My dear friends,

it’s been a while since I last posted an entry. Let me tell you why and what, besides Covid-19, made me pause from publishing fanfictions over the last couple of months. Of course, Switzerland was very affected by the pandemic and still is today. We had numerous lock-downs or as Swiss people call it “slow downs”. My mother got very sick last year, I almost lost her. The doctors said she would only live two or three more days, but my mom is a fighter. She had to stay at the hospital for months, she endured countless medical examinations, had to take meds and slowly learned to live again. I’m so proud of my mother that she was strong and determined to get better. When she turned back home, I started to take care of her and I hate to leave her on her own, even if we’re talking about half an hour or less. Right now, she’s doing quite good, actually, we’re on vacation and she makes a great effort to participate in life in Italy. She’s my role-model! She will never be the same as before, but she won’t give up, she wakes up every morning to make progress. I prayed for her and her well-being, I prayed every single night she might get another chance and now we’re here at the beach and dining in fancy restaurants. It’s been a horrible year for everyone, a year full of sorrow, tears and desperation, a year where I was constantly afraid, the hospital would call me with some bad news, but she did it! She survived and she fights for her life! So proud! Good news is: I passed my doctoral exams and I’m officially allowed to call myself Dr. phil. des. Melanie C. but that won’t ever stop me from loving Team Rocket so here it is - a brand new Rocketshipping-fanfiction for you guys. LOVE YOU! Night shift

Chapter 1:

It was past ten o’clock when that miserable looking guy entered the diner. He inconspicuously sat down in the farthest corner of the café and immediately hid his face behind the menu card. Nevertheless, Jessie the waitress could make out the pathetic expression on his face, how he was cowering like a whipped dog. She had seen quite a bit in this diner. Drunks, thugs, addicts and other needy people who asked for a sympathetic ear, compassion and understanding, but that guy was different. He suffered terribly, but did not dare to communicate, instead he hid from the world so as not to attract attention and quietly endure his fate. Jessie had to do something about it. Of course, she didn’t want to play the Good Samaritan. She knew the tricks of the men who entered this diner. Most of the time, they told the waitress tall tales, hoping to be comforted, whatever they meant by that. But this young man did not make a shady impressionHe was well dressed, looked well-groomed, and Jessie was especially struck by his bright emerald green eyes, the only thing in his face that had not yet been veiled by grief and sorrow. She decided to do something about his displeasure.

“Did you have a rough day?” she asked while disinfecting the table.

He looked briefly into her eyes and nodded. “That’s one way to put it,” he answered, the gaze immediately lowered again.

This would be a taciturn conversation, but Jessie didn’t give up easily, she was a natural at making even rocks talk.

“Listen! No matter what happened, I’ve seen or heard some things. If I can help you in any way, my name is Jessie and I’m in charge of this table today. Let me just get the gum out from under your seat and get you a cold drink. What would you like?” She pulled a spatula from her apron and rubbed away the remains of the spoiled brats that marred her diner.

‘Wow,’ the young man thought to himself. ‘A strong, self-confident woman who lends a hand herself and who’s not above cleaning up dirt.’ Their eyes met briefly, and he forced a wry smile.

“You know, kid. You can’t rely on anyone. If you want to get everything done, do it yourself and don’t trust anyone. This world doesn’t give you anything for granted!” She briefly wiped the back of his chair before disappearing behind the counter and pouring the young man an ice-cold Coke.

“I have rarely seen you so concerned about a customer. Normally you show yourself aloof and only take the order, so as not to get involved in embarrassing conversations. Must be a really great pike, this pathetic creature in the far corner. Could it be that you’ve got a tiny crush on this guy?” For Eddy, teasing his best friend was the greatest pleasure. He didn’t know her like that. Jessie usually resisted any kind of small talk. This was due to her dark past, when she had repeatedly fallen for advances from men who were never looking for a steady relationship, but for a quick fix. Eddy had witnessed this bad time of his friend, how her heart was broken, how she was badly played with, and how she was simply dropped like a hot potato. Jack was the worst example of them all. While Jessie was already hearing the wedding bells ringing, he was making love to the women of the Strip and deceiving Jessie night after night with other broads. Jessie was devastated when she found out Jack was cheating on her. She was furious, not even at her lying boyfriend, but at herself for having been so stupid as to trust a man.

Jessie gave Eddy a light pat on the head. “Don’t be silly! That time is over. I can take care of myself, I don’t need male support for that. I’m a big girl, I make my own dough, and I keep my head above water pretty well. No, not a chance, I’ve sworn off flirting.” Nevertheless, she caught herself as her gaze wandered to the young man in the corner. “Oh yes, this time is definitely over,” Eddy smirked.

“Jessie, could you bring us a side of fries, please?” Misty’s order echoed throughout the hall. The twenty-year old waved her hands. She was used to speaking loudly, almost shouting, to attract guests to her daily water Pokémon show. Sometimes she walked up and down the streets of the Strip all day in the blazing hot sun, trying to win people for her underwater attraction. As an excellent student, she could have taught at any college, but she had decided early on to get into show business and make her living doing what she really loved, joined by Dewgong and Starmie. Her parents had not agreed with this decision at all, it was wasted talent, they had claimed, and had summarily turned Misty out the door. Since then, she had been struggling through life on her own, but could always count on Jess, the diner and her two best friends, Ash and Brock, young people who were also not favoured by fate.

“Temper your voice, twerp!” Jessie couldn’t help but grin. She spread the ketchup bottles around the table, hoping Ash wouldn’t spill on himself and the diner again. His constant companion Pikachu immediately hopped on his shoulder, grabbed a fry and popped it in his mouth. Ash and his Pokémon were carnies. He had trained his friend well and attracted many spectators with his performance. Most of them felt sorry for the guy and tipped generously. That’s why Ash was able to invite his friends to the diner every night, a place that gave them hope where they could experience security. They were convinced that nothing would ever disturb this idyll and that fate, for better or worse, had taken its course.

“Who’s that guy over there?” Brock wanted to know. He had barely sold chocolate and roses tonight. The others held back, but they were certain that their friend was just too pushy with women and that’s why he only collected rejections instead of green bills.

“I’ve never seen him here before. Must be from another area. I can’t tell you for the life of me why he’s wearing a suit at theses temperatures, he looks pretty pathetic to me anyways,” Jessie replied.

“Maybe his car has stalled,” Ash suggested, “and now he was forced to wander through the desert until the tasty aromas from your diner brought him back from his delirium.”

“Or,” Brock interfered, “he had to flee his own wedding because his wife is a real pain in the ass, unlike our sweet Misty,” Brock oohed at his friend. “Forget it, Brock! You and me, this will never happen!” She gave him a gentle poke.

“Enough now with your naïve speculations! Just let him enjoy his drink. We’re closing soon, so get going,” Jessie dismissed their absurd ideas with a wave of her hand, but at this point no one knew how right Brock was.

Dark thoughts hunted the young man. He knew what he would face at home if he was late. Beatings, torture, rebuke, harassment, were just a few words to describe his failed relationship. Unconsciously, he stroked his scarred arms.

“Can I get you something to eat?” Jessie pulled him out of the maelstrom of bad thoughts, of course she had noticed the wounds, but maybe he had gotten those injuries at work. The young man rummaged some coins out of his pants and let them jingle on the table. “Is that enough for a cheese sandwich?” Jessie hated small change, but she would make an exception for him. A friendly smile, a quick nod, and she passed on the order.

“Something’s wrong with this guy,” she whispered to Eddy. “He’s scarred, bruised and pays with penny coins. Possibly a vagrant.” Eddy couldn’t help but grin. “That guy’s been keeping you busy all night, Jess. What’s the matter with you? Are you getting weak?”

The young man could not overhear the conversation between the waiters, but he was sure they were talking about him. He sure made a rather frightening impression, but that was a private matter and not something you shared with a waitress in a diner.

His gaze drifted to the daily paper, which had two faces emblazoned on it: Butch and Cassidy. He had never heard of this odd couple, but according to the news, theses two were causing quite a stir and were terrifying the Strip.

“Oh, so you’ve already spotted them, those two knuckleheads! They keep the Strip in suspense, and heads roll when the taxes don’t add up,” Jessie served him the cheese sandwich and gave him a slight smile.

“Can I get you anything else?” He thanked her and took a hearty bite of his dinner.

The last half hour flew by and the remaining guests left the diner to spend the night on the Strip, as very few had a roof over their heads. Jessie set about cleaning up and Eddy checked the register.

The young man stood up and made his way towards the door. But before he left the diner, he glanced back at Jessie for a moment. A sigh escaped him. What if…?

Jessie returned his gaze and watched him go until the young man disappeared. She walked right up to his table and found a little note on the receipt.

“Thanks for treating me like a human being, James.”

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wistfulrat · 3 years

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this week’s fics! feat. bakeries, bookshops, bisexual awakenings of the angsty and fluffy sort, wolfstar goddads being tender as hell, desi harry reconnecting with his culture, domestic drarry, a lap dance set to akon’s smack that, and more!

But That’s History by @ebbet - 54k - T Harry Potter starts his first year as Muggle Studies Professor only to find that Draco Malfoy has been hired to teach History of Magic.

listen to me. this is one of the funniest drarry fics i've ever read. i was cackling in my bed at 2am because harry’s internal monologues throughout this fic are unhinged. insanely quotable. “what was he, a lothario” and “you were crushing me with your muscular thighs!” are lines that live rent free in my empty head. harry has never played anything cool a day in his life. there’s a faculty meeting where the teachers are planning the yule ball and debating the merits of a DJ when harry decides he must defend his muggle-music-loving honor by dancing seductively to akon’s smack that while a blushing draco loses his mind. i fucking screamed. and the best part is that in between the comedic scenes threading the overall story, you have extremely tender moments of like, padma patil helping harry become a more rooted desi by sharing their cultural traditions, harry proudly donning his sherwani. draco wrestling with his past, going to harry’s lgbtq+ club for students, being sheepish with ron and hermione. ugh, comedic writers with emotional depth are clever and talented as hell!!

Realities, Unfurling by @ebbet - 45k - M Draco Malfoy is released from Azkaban into a changed world.

incredible collage-fic told from multiple povs. 8yrs post-war and everything’s changed. the current state of the magical world unfolds via slice-of-life snapshots from a truly stunning cast. non-binary harry whom is running a non-prof org dedicated to building tolerance and establishing equality for marginalized identities. post-prison-release draco whose life will be changed by the internet. neville’s tender relationship with blaise. andromeda’s fiercely protective mothering. remus and sirius being alive and very hot and just, the tender goddads harry deserved. cho chang being brilliant. baker pansy’s softened edges. found families abound. harry being flustered by their crush on draco and making personalized playlists on an iPod nano.

that all might sound narratively cluttered but the author more than pulls this off. glorious, start to finish.

Knead by @jovialobservationanchor (an @hd-erised fic) - 83k - E This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.

cinematic. a love letter to oregon’s expansive landscapes and lively cities. it’s harry finding home in unexpected places and people. in the vast silence of rolling fields, endless coasts, and starry night skies big enough to feel like you’re adrift in space. and it’s also the lingering, intimate quiet of early mornings in a bakery, sitting on a park bench overlooking the city as you eat ice cream next to your crush. it’s harry watching ginny and luna dance and work around each other like bees. it’s the slow unfolding of harry and draco’s relationship as they fill each other’s quiet. finishing this fic is like waking from a good dream. transporting, immersive, lovely.

Harry Potter and the Bisexual Awakening by @writcraft - 20k - E Harry is perfectly content being single, heterosexual and living in Godric's Hollow with his very clingy rescue dog, Snitch. When Draco Malfoy turns up on Harry's doorstep demanding that Harry teach him how to drive, things quickly become a lot more complicated.

first of all, i feel very seen by draco being a gay-who-can’t-drive. it’s called representation. but mostly i love the ease of harry and draco’s banter, a flustered harry discovering his sexuality, and the way this fic addresses biphobia. also very emo over this exchange: “I think I might be scared of you, but probably not for the reasons you think.” “Yes.” Draco stares at Harry. “I think I might be scared of you too.”

Forged through flowing water by @tedahfromtayla (an @hd-erised fic) - 40k - E When Hermione sets up a diplomatic mission to begin repairing the damage British colonisation did to Indian magical communities Harry isn’t going to pass on the opportunity to visit and help his family’s home country. Maybe he should have asked a few more questions about the personnel she had recruited for it before signing on because Malfoy surely has an ulterior motive to be there.

so much to love about this fic. the beautiful settings, from kolkata to mumbai, to the holi festival and colorful lively streets, to remote cave settlements and old intricate temples. it’s harry in the homeland, reconnecting to his family’s heritage and confronting the weight of imperialism in his history. it’s nipping the white savior complex in the bud. this part: That is what England left behind. That is what it still stands for, despite whatever mask of respectability and honour it presents. . .You don't get to step aside and let someone else deal with the mess. You have to listen and learn and then act, Malfoy, you need to learn how to fix your own mess. This is why we're here. my indigenous ass cheered. HP certainly sells the british fantasy but HP fanfic?? fuck jkr, fuck the crown. i love that this fic doesn’t romanticize england’s history. i love that we get to see the vast resilience and beauty of post-colonial india.

Purity Control by yrfrndfrnkly - 28k - T In which Harry tries to ignore his trauma with fantasy Quidditch but Malfoy's Thereness™ is distracting and all his classmates want to talk about are unicorns, virginity, and Muggle music.

tender 8th year fics where they go from bristly as fuck to understanding and soft 100% guaranteed to make me emo as hell. all the teens have traumas and no one wants to talk about it but eventually Things are Talked About. it’s good of the adults to finally notice. everyone just wants someone to hold their hand. and this part: “You’re the only person around here who’s a bigger mess than I am.” “I thought maybe we could be a mess together,” pls don’t look at me as i weep over their gentle empathy.

Advent, a comic by dustmouth - WIP - T It's Harry and Draco's first Christmas together and Draco is determined to live his full yuletide fantasy, come hell or high water.

dustmouth, patron saint of whimsical drarry. whose illustrations singlehandedly reinvented wizarding fashion. whose cheeky and tender comics are like a soothing balm to the utter depravity of this carnal world. harry and draco being domestic, draco’s xmas spirit brand being “traditional unhinged”!! extremely my shit. we’ll absolutely be reading this all december.

Little Spaces by @dracoladon and @lazywonderlvnd - WIP - E Draco's back from France and working on the spell damage ward at St Mungo's with Hermione, who invites him over for dinner. Without telling Harry. This is a roleplay, which means Harry is written by one author (lazywonderland) and Draco by another (dracoladon).

the switch in distinct character voices works so well for this fic!! tonally i feel like i'm watching an episode of the office. i personally love harry and draco being Pissed Off at how much they want to bone each other. the battle of the tapenade was the most riveting dinner scene i've read in a minute. clever, hilarious, emotionally tense. can’t wait until that inevitable moment post hate-sex when they’re gonna be like “oh noooo it’s a Heart Boner as well!! >:((” hell ya we’re subscribing for chapter updates.

Dragons Don’t Know Paradise by @teacup-tai - WIP - E In 2004, when Remus spends two scary weeks in the ITU due to complications of pneumonia and his HIV condition, Sirius walks around the house like a ghost and Harry finds comfort and strength in Draco through a chat in an online LGBT forum. Harry falls for him, but Draco has a lot of secrets and, before long, will need to come clean—even if he believes that no one is able to understand a dragon.

non-magical bookshop AU. remus and sirius’ relationship is a marvel. the ease of their affection with harry makes me so emo. draco’s friends being insistently present even as he tries to isolate himself. this is a story about acceptance, found families, and falling in love at a distance. the intimacy, the longing, the tenderness. what a fic!! i keep coming back to this part:...he looks at ease, inside his body, a body he needed to fight for. He’d made peace with his struggles and his scars. And Draco realises he wants that. He wants to be at ease inside his body, the body that now carries a virus. He wants to be at peace with his own existence. you hurt for draco so deeply but you get moments like these where he affords himself a kindness that feels foreign and it’s just!! the boys navigating grief and learning to be vulnerable. so good.

#drarry fic rec #drarry #we live and die for desi harry aka hari poddar bc fuq jkr #a lot of soft drarrys this week but in my defense ive been reading hella angst and my depression was not finding that cute #weekly drarrys

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