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libidomechanica · 10 months

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Untitled # 9861

A limerick sequence

He squeeze like an intoxication: glory, the grosser parts; they gave you no fear? Yet recovery. And feel myself alone disperse, the massive weapons fly.

The lots were torn up, and ere he set a-foot, but not such a lover, he concluded, concerned with my own child. Sole reply was the twins of Leda, shall be heard.

Where it cannot be bitterest grief! With sweet solitude and fled; then I cannot be so tickled, the vault. Lay scatter’d by the distance, we enter on our lord.

The tempest’s wear and far—and half retiring from those kind eyes, blush-tinted cheeks, which th’ angry gods had fasten’d down the steps above my heart and wrings with arts.

And images of life beneath her. The prize has struck dumb, than speak that he was dead and she inquire if she be wife or maid, appear’d mistaking Earth for Heaven.

Something sweets, enkindling, the forest for his scythe to mow: and as I walked as he gazed as one who is here! White thorn! And first the flesh and fair in this dull and close?

His aged head, crowned. Sad impatient suddenly feels better cavalier of twenty years hence, though every now and the haughty terms divine, and paces leisure!

Stubborn earth, and rose, and staggering effort she begged a boon, a certain summer-palace which thy frozen bosom bears, on whose grave all through clear and fast they splash’d.

’Er some fancied they sigh, and clasping and kissing so close; by their crews; she gave them not. When you need— let every hour survey, for blunting the weaker thrumm’d a sail.

She once had passed, and, for their earliest dew not bring relief; you all? Then will I gladly reconciling words a problem, as if it said, Heaven’s name was dead.

Circled a million, and a doorknob, for you, no doubt he would ask for him doth stil keep there; he always doubted for dissection. To drink the coming to the last.

Some sorcerer, whom so long to early that she gave them all at one fell sicker, o, Julia! I’ll just inquired if I had an only daughter; my mother!

The ruling rod, thrown in the Gulf of Lyons. He puzzle, because she smiled to make a memory stole into Naiads’ cells, they listen as the snow on pathless man!

I mean it remember that August you were small, your cheeks. His nearest messmate told him, such enlarged: if some sung psalms, the fresh than flowers, and then, toward the campers.

Losing full in Man. No, surely, some kind heart while I am striving home. Exceedingly at ease, where different way in different: desire increasing ever.

This music swims back to me. Got to the din of existence for it alone. Although it cost me half an hour was that one Will. Those longer fancy to reclaim’d.

They always back to me. Perhaps it may hap but fill your loves in bloody torments, which the daffadowndilly, who took Algiers, declares I used him vilely?

Was tilled by women; certain, would I so tease my pleasant scene is growing green, that man can only mother! Longing, not give and died, now feelings must have seen!

With nothing. The Camp we directed? One’s wrong and all mischief-making me quickly near, by every sound of ourselves we prided leander, Mr. Wait Mister.

Know that you have waked her, but well know—no more—Oh! My voice upon them, my own nostrils, should know that much. Into his disease; he did this during civil war.

Wind constant after much declares I used him vilely? When old songs waken from an ox. When all charms fly at the floor. ’Tis the celebrated fireworks with Ho!

’Tis with us, or we die. She has already—and as bas the hoarse alarm of Corinth’s voice was grown high time to times in hope my verse compact, so wise are we!

In thy face hath not the retreat, whom taken him to the open plain, and, the welcome pain, let pleasure. The Amen, ere thy shame I speak, whose perfect is thy name?

Fast to a tittle; I can’t take back. But Sylvio did; his gifts in vain to the street, remember, now with ministring looks: alway his eye. But thou’s for ever.

Julia swoon’d, alfonso’s way. Into o’er-hanging from their delight, than when at length a voice obedient to revenge, compunction, like Coleridge, into a scrape.

Friends: they master in the Skein of Joy. But thirty years hence, though injured by light, and the western border of the dead long been wived, with other pleasurable.

Don Juan, almost prying snub-nose, and no one near to human life, or the prey their pace to mend; then I cannot die so. Nook, I found the tangles of her husband.

The body thus adorned, he read with a noble stream, the Guadalquivir, juan slept like an odor because there embraced, and mean, next winter breeze. Is this a plight?

Tossed and the Booke where it can do nothing but idiot gabble! A good deal like him too, though the winds arise, the art to some accounted thirty, crowded round.

Have I not had occasion, she had heard thy sweet south. Last Love, you are indeed a very day there came also stuff’d his mother half were laid down his blood waltzes.

Stems thronging all their aunts, and be the Captain’s lady. Love her, look upon each other pour’d, fair Venetian; stop! And fragrant zone; she comes from each spicy flower.

—There the setting; we may chance had sent them their lucid wombs: then old songs waken from out the skeletons of the money. A devil of a sea rolls in the sky.

With cliffs above, on earth; instead of quarrels, cared not for mine. May sigh my love in a hut, with fearful to deface too much repenting, were by promised to turn.

Have shot my fault—I kept good water’s wood, the one thing be noted with food and Evil. By strewn salt across thy stream, the Guadalquivir. Full many wanton hair.

Know in the sky for a great self, appear, now, when every youthful pair must breakfast. We might be found, a power to virtuous woman should grow vaster than mine.

The mere touch she shrank, feigning a sleep full of sport, and may become tradition, and smooth! But not without a gap, yet ne’er mounted high.—Flirtation with tears! Dear child!

Might hear his ardent wish withstood, nor durst disaster. His body in the mone. And so bland and merely comprehend, although numb’d with a numerous issue blest.

As the mould long for fooling there. And other spied the prince is all for the following tree should be too old forests; while they say: I ask’d the forky lightning flies.

To light your Mother think, instead of thee who art dearer, better! Poor soul, the centre of my paine, pleasures—rather dear, and unto star star cadencing aright.

All these are little pressure. He did not love the reader envy his transgression, the sexton, and the child we lost in vain for Juan wore the comfortable creed.

She did soar so passions teach found it answer’d, No! My true-love hath cast his utmost list of all the rest were patient suddenly in me. Took a lute, from a stag.

His messenger, his limbs of life. And indications of our years? But taking the great snake, whose mouth saddles the fury of lovers, whose tops the woodland altar.

Which must be given. More than within private arms empale free woman. Boiling surf and slanting branches: who could interrupted not, nor mov’d; from every where.

My heart the less he had a will; was he quiet place where the sea places its many fights, his own. A name, and yet the fanning wind the account to the cutter.

Burden to a close, because I caught the awful wail of lone Eternity. Stairs ascend the living fame, whose slender frame and ruth was in his slow-chapt power.

Gaze; two hundred years are, or captains, and sense, she hugged the next decided he was back from the substance, all selected for the fool? Night to see one’s native land.

Yet deem’d throbbing back to your life and of Honour more. Rises, or if her herbs and flowers budded newly; and then were living alwaies free from sword, a horse ill.

What wreath for Lamia answer’d like a sea of milk shalt lie displacement of my Soul. His cheek, appear’d in sight, than was, distress; and yonder all before their brows!

Like and enjoy, to will and act is one of you me eternal deep. The nether lip, the moon does these stream, and a bonie, bonie Sandy O, my bonie, bonie Sandy O.

The warmer sun. A man was he boundless prison-house I cannot pretend to joy the fair may find, in this an hour, which the naval people giving pleasure ceased.

Hail, Poesie! Though I be stone; until my heart with Cyril and with a cruel tongue: at other two, they sigh, and cloistered shall aid thy creation did decree that he sought.

Some trial had been in Turkey or in Spain? They also lie too—under a bush pressing and kissing, and clap a white skin; I nibbled round without a moment’s act.

The fourth I spake of why we came, and with decent either. What he should not broke—there’s the pleading: his speech out to fill, and darknesse cleared, the grave; and, sobbing rain.

Amid the silent here. Said Margaret, for I know not what good water’s edge he tried to prove her mistress’ eyes or hair. Yet she will be all one an hour was wasted.

To prove a martyr. And thou promise it is a marketable vice. She set her on my cradle shone the womb wherein t was time had brought for fifty Louis.

She knew not, till in its tranquil ruin, I returned into this day, and not a stick of mast, none can tell? She told me she had not be seized her his brutal lust.

This vision the men within his cave, and double bridegroom fair. Fire which it gurgled blythe adieus, to more immoral conduct— which served him for the pain, let pleasure.

Upon that was true: but thou’s for ever: its loveliness. Short, and what worth his while. To heaven knows,—it may be Neptune’s goblet: she did not hear at all.

Attended; in whose skin triggers your hour; but die ye must away, and Campbell’s Hippocrene is somewhat fond of happy thoughts of life. Antonia cried out Rape!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #144 texts #limerick sequence

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aspiestvmusings · 3 years

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Proud Papa-ya

WandaVision: Proud Papa Vision edit

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xreaderxo · 4 years

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My Moon

Zuko x reader

Soulmate AU

genre: angst but with a good ending

warning: death, sickness

summary: Every Fire Nation citizen gets a tattoo on their wrist when they turn sixteen. This tattoo shows the first words your soulmate will say to you. Some people find this person immediately, and spend the rest of their lives together. Some people never get the chance.

"Why do you keep that ribbon on your wrist?"

Zuko clenched his fists by his sides, exhaling a breath of fire in frustration. Sozin's Comet was in three days, and this was the fourth time Aang has stopped training to ask a question that had nothing to do with firebending.

"Aang," Zuko said impatiently, "Stop avoiding training."

"But I want to know!" Aang clasped his hands together. "That's where your soulmate's first words are, right? Why are they covered?"

Zuko groaned. "Because I don't have time for a soulmate. I was too focused on finding you, and now I need to focus on defeating my father."

"So you've never looked at it!?" Aang's eyes widened before he lunged forward. "Let me see! Let me see!"

"Wha- Aang!" Zuko yelled, trying to pry the airbender off of him as he stretched his right arm out of his reach. "Get off!"

"I want to know what your words are!"

"Why are you interested in my love life!?"

"Because I would kill to have what you have and you don't appreciate it!"

"Don't appreciate what?" Sokka asked, popping a grape into his mouth as he walked up to the hill where the two were sparring.

"Sokka!" Aang shouted. "Take Zuko's ribbon off!"

"Ooh, I love annoying Zuko!" Sokka said gleefully, grabbing Zuko's wrist and ripping the black fabric off. "Uh, why am I annoying Zuko?"

"Because Zuko's never looked at his soulmate tattoo!" Aang snatched a frozen Zuko's wrist and read it. "I want the last thing I see to be the moon," he read.

"Poetic." Sokka nodded approvingly. "I like them already, they like staring at my first girlfriend!"

Zuko blinked. "Wait, hold on- your first girlfriend actually turned into the moon? Like literally?"

That was a year ago. Zuko was Fire Lord now. Currently, he was headed to a secluded cliff he had found the day before to meditate. There was a sickness going around, and although it wasn't contagious, Iroh hadn't wanted him to be in a populated area. So, he was going to be alone away from other people.

Or so he thought.

He halted as he entered the clearing to the cliff. There was a person- you -lying down in the grass, staring at the moon. Remembering his tattoo, a spark of hope lit in his chest. He was Fire Lord. The war was over. It would be safe to fall in love. Maybe this was his soul mate.

His hope quickly turned to dread as he got closer. They had the sickness. Judging from their skin and frailty, they probably didn't even have an hour left.

Still, even if they aren't his soulmate, Zuko wasn't about to let anybody die alone.

"Uh, it's pretty cold out," he said as he got closer, and visibly winced. It wasn't cold. It was the middle of summer in the Fire Nation.

You shrugged, not having the strength to sit up to see who your soulmate was.. "I want the last thing I see to be the moon."

Zuko's breath hitched. "No," he whispered.

You chuckled bitterly. "We finally meet, and I'll be dead by morning. Sounds about right." you paused. "You can go, if you want. I don't want you to have to see this."

"I'm not letting my soulmate die alone," Zuko said determinedly, his legs shaking, and laid down beside you. You looked at him, and raised your eyebrows in shock as you recognized him.

"Well, look at that! If I hadn't gotten this cough, I would've been the queen!" you joked. "Nice to meet you, Fire Lord. I'm Y/N."

Y/N. It was the most beautiful word Zuko had ever heard.

"Just call me Zuko," he replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You two laid there for a few minutes, drinking in each other's appearances. You knew he was handsome, as you'd seen his face plastered all over the Fire Nation for years. First listed as a traitor and most recently, Fire Lord. He was even more handsome up close. His amber eyes had flecks of fire orange in them. And his scar? You thought that it was the most handsome part of all. It showed he'd been through something terrible, and overcame it.

Zuko couldn't believe someone so beautiful could exist. You were gorgeous. Stunning. Even in your frail state, your complexion blemished from the sickness, your cheekbones jutting out sharply, Zuko had never seen anything so divine.

"Y/N?" he whispered, his eyes locked with yours.

"Yes, Zuko?"

He gulped, bringing his other hand to cup your cheek and resting his forehead on yours. "Tell me everything about you."

And so you did.

You told him your childhood. You told him about the first time you broke a bone. You told him how you felt when your father died. You told him that your favorite food is Roast Duck. You told him that you always planned on naming your daughter Izumi. You told him how you donated everything you owned to the Ursa Medical Center that Zuko had recently set up. You told him how excited you were whenever you heard that the Avatar had returned, because finally there would be peace.

"I was so happy that it was you who became Fire Lord and not somebody else." You had your head on his chest at this point, his legs tangled with yours.

"Why?" Zuko's fingers were running through your sweat-soaked hair, the wetness not registering.

"Because," you hummed, "You betrayed the Fire Nation to help the Avatar. You were willing to leave everything you'd ever known to bring peace." you paused, tilting your chin so you could look at him. "Plus, you're pretty cute, too."

Zuko blushed as the corners of his mouth turned upwards. "You think I'm cute? Have you seen yourself?"

You chuckled weakly. "Yeah, I'm a real dime piece right now." Zuko's hand stilled. He leaned up on one elbow so he could look down on you.

"Y/N," he said seriously, "You are incandescently beautiful. You are oh so pulchritudinous. You are the most stunning of all of God's creations."

You smiled at him. If your body could produce enough water for it, tears would be running down your face. "Thank you," you whispered. As Zuko laid back down, you spoke again. "Now, tell me everything about you."

So he did. He told you about his mother. He told you about being banished. He told you how it was trying to capture the Avatar. He told you about his time in Ba Sing Se. He told you about his uncle. He told you about being friends with the Avatar, and joining their group. He told you what it was like to face Azula. He told you about how Aang and Sokka had ripped off the ribbon, which you both shared a laugh at.

He sighed. "I wish we had more time," he choked out. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know I just met you, but I can't imagine living without you."

"Well, that's the thing about soulmates," you replied, running your hand through his hair and bringing his head down to yours until your lips were centimetres apart. "We'll never truly be apart."

And then Zuko was kissing you. He was kissing your lips and your nose and your cheeks and your forehead and your eyebrows and back to your lips. He was kissing you as though he thought that if he kissed you enough, he could save you. He was kissing you as if it would be the last kiss you would ever share, which was likely.

You were the one to break the kiss, as you were losing breath. You could feel it coming, and Zuko could, too. "I- I don't know what to do," he whimpered, holding you closer. "We've only known each other for an hour. We should be able to have a life together, to grow old together. It isn't fair!"

"Shh, Zuko," you hummed into the hollow of his neck. "We'll see each other again, my love. And whenever you miss me, just look at the moon. This," you pulled back and gestured to the moon above, "Is our moon. Forever." You laid your head back on his chest, and your voice was barely above a whisper when you next spoke. "Can you sing me to sleep?"

Zuko's heart was breaking, but he couldn't say no. "Of course," he hiccuped, choking back a sob, before he began singing a song his mother used to sing him.

“Deep in the meadow, under the willow A bed of grass, a soft green pillow Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes And when again they open, the sun will rise.

Here it's safe, here it's warm Here the daisies guard you from every harm Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true Here is the place where I love you.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away A cloak of leaves, A moonbeam ray, Forget your woes and let your troubles lay And when again it's morning, they'll wash away.

Here it's safe, here it's warm Here the daisies guard you from every harm Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true Here is the place where I love you.”

As he finished the song, his heart stopped. You weren't breathing. Agony, the worst pain he’d ever felt, ripped through his chest. An inhuman scream erupted from his throat as he pulled your body into him, his tears falling. He'd just met you, and yet you had become his world. And you were gone.

He stayed there the entire night until Iroh found him the next morning, still clutching your ice-cold corpse. Iroh's heart snapped, immediately knowing what must have happened. It took hours to pry Zuko away from you. He spent the next week crying into Iroh's shoulder. "I don't think she heard me tell her I love her, Uncle," he sputtered before another sob wracked his shoulders.

"She knew," Iroh assured him. "I promise. She knew."

He arranged a funeral for you that was fit for a Fire Queen, and had you buried on the cliff where you had met.

Fire Lord Zuko's reign lasted sixty-seven years. After much pressure from his advisors about an heir, he did end up taking a wife. Her name was Mikoto, from a noble Fire Nation family. Her soulmate had died as well, so it was a perfect fit. They both knew they could never love another, but they were best friends.

They had a daughter, who Zuko named Izumi. He was still alive whenever she took over as Fire Lord, and he'd never been more proud of anything or anyone.

And yet, he still missed you. He thought about you every day, and every night he would sit and stare at the moon. Sometimes he would cry, thinking about what could have been. Other times he would be happy, telling you about Izumi's accomplishments. He would always sleep with the window open, so that the last thing he saw before he went to sleep was your moon.

He died at the age of one hundred in his sleep, his face still turned towards the moon.

Zuko's eyes opened to find himself in the Spirit World face to face with Iroh himself.

"Uncle!" he cried, wrapping him into a hug.

"Hello, Zuko!" Iroh said with a smile. "It's nice to see you again!"

"Hey Sifu Hotman, you better give me a hug, too!" Zuko whirled around to see Aang, and his smile widened as he jumped into the Avatar's arms. Stepping back, Zuko noticed that Aang was a lot older than he was.

"Why am I seventeen again?" he asked.

"For the same reason that I am twenty-five," Iroh explained, "The age I was when my son was born. Here, you remain the age you were when you were at your happiest."

"I was happiest when I was twenty-one, when Katara and I got married," Aang explained. "You're seventeen because that's how old you were when you met them."

Zuko froze as he heard footsteps behind him, before whirling around.

"Hello, My Love," you said. You were healthy and in a beautiful red gown. Zuko's breath hitched, his eyes filling with tears. He ran forward to envelop you in a hug.

"I've missed you, too," you chuckled as he peppered your face with kisses. The two of you stared at one another, soaking in each other's appearances yet again. He rested his forehead against yours.

"We can finally spend forever together," he said in what was meant to be a whisper, but he was so elated that it came out as a yell.

"I can't wait," you replied in the same tone.

"I love you." The words Zuko had been wanting to tell you finally left his lips.

"I know," you answered, cupping his cheeks with your hands. "I love you, too."

As the two of you shared another kiss, the full moon above seemed to shine a little brighter.

#zuko x reader #zuko #prince zuko #zuko imagine #soulmate au #fire lord zuko #atla #a:tla #atla imagine #sokka #iroh #aang #soulmate zuko

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theclockworkmonk · 3 years

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Out of the Mouths of Babes — Ch 6

AO3 | FFN

Previous chapter on Tumblr

Written for Hinny Ficfest 2021

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

Special thanks to @deadwoodpecker for beta reading this chapter

********

It was Molly’s turn to catch Arthur as he swayed on his feet and nearly fainted into her lap.

Hermione’s trembling hands were clapped firmly over her mouth, her eyes bulging to the size of saucers and darting around the room, unsure of who to start questioning, lecturing, or comforting first.

Ron was standing comfortably looking very pleased with himself, taking his turn to give Hermione his best “I told you so” look.

Fleur was silently beaming.

George’s face was turning red and his lips were pressed together so tightly they were turning white, he was trying so hard to keep his flippant comments to himself.

Percy had an intense, focused look on his face like he was trying to solve a maths problem or get a joke.

Bill and Charlie were glaring at Harry with a renewed quiet venom that was more intimidating than the unrestrained threats of a few minutes earlier.

But Harry wasn’t even close to caring, because his brain was too busy with listing to him all of the reasons why he was a terrible person and how he had ruined Ginny’s life and how he had no business being responsible for a tiny helpless human. With the deathly silence of the kitchen, he could perfectly hear his pulse pounding in his ears.

Ginny was still just staring at the blue potion with a completely blank expression. Finally, she was the one who broke the silence.

“...Huh.”

That sound was like a dam breaking, and the entire family erupted into a new flood of noise, all shouting over each other.

“Okay, okay, nobody panic!” Hermione shrieked, flapping her hands and clearly panicking, “We can handle this, I’ll help Ginny make a plan! I’ll start a baby binder!”

Molly darted across the kitchen and tackled her still-stunned daughter into a crushing hug.

“Remember Ginny dear, this is a good thing and we’re all happy for you, even though I’m so sorry I failed you as a mother,” she cried.

“By that she means you both are always accepted by this family and we’ll help any way we can,” said Arthur seriously.

“Yes, feel free to floo over if you ever start feeling sick, dear,” wept Molly, clasping onto Ginny’s hands for dear life, “and I know you starve yourself for your team, but you need to eat whatever you have a craving for as soon as you crave it, even if those trainers don’t like it. I’ll be happy to cook it for you. In fact, I’ll just start coming over every day to make sure you have everything.”

Behind her, Fleur was silently fist-pumping in victory at the new target for Molly Weasley’s doting.

“Not that anybody cares,” said Ron pointedly, staring up at the ceiling with his arms crossed, “But I’m still waiting for my apology.”

That was enough to shake Ginny out of her trance and she actually chuckled. “Ronald, it’s going to take a lot more than the immediate vindication of the wanker things you say for that to happen.”

Bill and Charlie’s faces had turned a shade of purple that reminded Harry entirely too much of Uncle Vernon.

“The rising star junior Auror can’t handle rudimentary contraception magic?” Charlie growled through clenched teeth.

Harry gulped loudly enough to be heard over the cacophony. “No! This potion batch is just a dud, we’re always safe!”

Ginny gasped and grabbed Harry by the sleeve. She pulled him close and whispered, as if there were a chance everyone wouldn’t hear. “Wait, Harry, you did remember to do the Charm...erm….that time, right?” She glanced sideways at Ron and Hermione. “That time...you know...at that thing? That thing three weeks ago?”

Harry’s insides felt like they had been frozen. Apparently the look on his face betrayed him, because Ginny looked to be going through the same revelation as him.

“I….I thought you had,” he mumbled weakly.

Ginny winced and closed her eyes. “Noooooooo,” she moaned, “Harry, we established this, the one who initiates it needs to do the Charm!”

“Exactly!” said Harry, “You were the one who grabbed me and dragged me to the bathroom!”

“Only because you hadn’t taken your hand off my thigh the entire bloody dinner!” said Ginny frantically, “What was I supposed to do, just keep eating cake?”

“Wait!” said Ron loudly, and Harry and Ginny froze like trapped rabbits.

Ron glared back and forth between the two of them, the gears in his head working. “Dinner? Cake? Three weeks?”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Hermione seethed dangerously. “Seriously? At our engagement party!?”

Harry shrank away from her like a child caught in the sweets jar. “Er….would you believe that we got caught up in the romance of the moment? You know, because you two are so in love, it’s inspiring?”

“Exactly!” said Ginny, “Really, you should take this as a compliment.”

Ron had his hands over his ears and his eyes clenched shut. “Welp. I can never use that bathroom again. We have to move flats. Better yet, let’s just burn down the building.”

“So what is the Harpies’ maternity plan?” Percy asked studiously, as if this were simply a bureaucratic issue, “how soon do you plan on going on leave? Assuming, of course, you...you know….intend to go through with it”

Tense silence fell, as the misunderstanding that caused all this chaos was suddenly relevant again. Every face was looking toward Harry and Ginny with baited breath.

Ginny swallowed and cleared her throat.

“That,” she said forcefully, crossing her arms, “is none of your business. None of this is any of your business. So if you’ll excuse us, the only people whose opinions matter right now will discuss this alone.”

Without waiting for a retort, Ginny grabbed Harry by the hand and led him up the stairs. After they entered Ginny’s old bedroom and Harry closed the door behind him, she paced back and forth several times before turning to face him.

“Did you put a ward on the door?” she asked.

“And several more on our way up the stairs,” answered Harry. “We should have a while before an Extendable Ear sneaks in here.”

“Good. Very good. Cool. Coolcoolcoolcoolcool.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them, both hesitant to look the other in the eye. Harry wanted to hug her and start reassuring her, but he also didn’t want this conversation to start, because he wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to hear what he suspected Ginny would say.

Even though he was completely panicking and sure he would find a way to spectacularly mess up raising a child, there was no doubt in his mind about at least trying his best at it. But he knew how dedicated Ginny was to her career, and how difficult this could be for her. He was sure what she was going to say, but he wasn’t sure he could withstand hearing it.

Ginny was chewing her lip, but finally broke the silence. “Look, Harry….this is a lot to take in. Neither of us planned on this happening so soon, obviously. I understand if you want to focus on your job—”

“What?” Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a professional athlete who has another human growing inside you, and it’s my job we need to worry about?”

Ginny shrugged. “Well, I could keep playing for the next few months. The team healers put a ward around your abdomen for bludgers. I would have to take a break eventually, but I’m on contract now, so I’m secured in my roster spot while on maternity leave, and they always give players a chance to earn their starting spot back.”

“Oh,” said Harry, surprised. “Well that’s….that’s good. I thought it would be more cutthroat.”

“Well, the Harpies’ whole brand is having the very best female players in Britain,” said Ginny proudly, “and having a reputation for the best maternity plan in the league makes them pretty attractive to all their prospects. It’s hard to build a core team if you permanently lose a player every time someone gets pregnant.

“So…” she said assertively, looking him in the eye. “I feel like...we can do this. I want to keep this baby. But ultimately I feel like it’s both of our decisions. I’ll understand no matter how you feel. So….what are you thinking?”

Harry felt like he was in a tug of war, between exploding from happiness or imploding from terrifying nerves. Dementors, dragons, Death Eaters, nothing was as scary as this, but he also didn’t have to think about his answer, even for a second.

His hand drifted into his pocket and he toyed with what was inside. This wasn’t how he imagined doing this, but she asked him what he was thinking, and this night had already flipped all their plans upside-down, what was a bit more?

Harry focused on Ginny’s brown eyes, still earnestly waiting for his answer, and he found the courage he always found there.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” he said bracingly.

He dropped down to one knee.

Ginny made a high-pitched squeak and her eyes widened in shock. Harry smiled at himself, pleased that he could still catch her completely off-guard.

“I wasn’t planning on doing this soon. I was afraid you would think I was being pushy. Was going to wait a few years. Or maybe a few months. Okay, I was probably close to cracking already. And in the meantime, it still felt good to have this on me, as a good luck charm I suppose.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small black box he had bought weeks earlier.

“Harry….” Ginny whispered, her eyes welling with tears.

“Ginny,” Harry answered. He opened the box to reveal the ring. “Will you mar—guh!”

He was cut off by a crazed redhead tackling him to the ground, grabbing his face and kissing him hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Harry’s head was spinning, but he reluctantly pushed her back.

“Gin — Gin!” he grunted between kisses. Finally, Ginny pulled back, frowning at him.

“There’s kind of a part you forgot?” Harry said pointedly, raising his eyebrows.

Ginny looked lost for a moment, then rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah. Yes. Obviously yes, you idiot.”

She kissed him again, and he lost track of time. Eventually, his back started to get sore on the wood floor, and he pushed himself up and pulled them both to their feet.

“We can finish our own celebration later,” said Harry, smiling so wide his face was sore, “but we should probably put your family’s worries to rest. And I can’t wait to show the world your hand with this on it.” He slid the ring onto her finger, and Ginny bounced on her feet like she was eleven years old again, practicing signing the name “Ginny Potter” in a diary.

Then, her smile slipped and she groaned loudly. “Ugh, this will make my mum even more of a nightmare now. I thought she was bad in the lead-up to Bill’s wedding, she’ll be even worse since she has to be the mother to both of us.”

“Well, Bill’s wedding was nice, wasn’t it?” said Harry diplomatically.

“I mean, I guess,” Ginny shrugged, “but not nearly nice enough to be worth all the hassle. The months of my mother stressing over everything and making sure I know my part. And I was just a bridesmaid! Being the center of attention of a hundred people while wearing a cumbersome dress might be Fleur’s dream, but it sounds like the worst day of my life.”

She wrapped her arms around Harry’s waist and pulled him close. “I just care if I’m the center of your attention.”

Harry smiled even wider. “Well don’t worry, you could be wearing a burlap sack and I still won’t be able to take my eyes off you.”

“So you don’t mind backing me up when Mum breaks out the bridal magazines?” Ginny asked pleadingly. “I was never one of those girls that fantasize about an extravagant wedding; in fact, the smaller the better. We’ve never really talked about it, but I know you, so I assume you would be okay with that?”

Harry laughed loudly. “Are you kidding? Yes, absolutely. You know I’m not exactly a social butterfly. As far as I’m concerned, we could jusy floo over to the Ministry and take care of it right now.”

They both erupted into a fresh round of laughter, holding each other and clutching their sides at how funny and ridiculous the idea was.

Then, their eyes met, and their laughter faltered, growing more and more quiet until tense silence descended on the room. Their smiles dropped, and their suddenly serious eyes held a wordless conversation.

Finally, both their mouths crept back up into wide smiles, this time being full of mischief.

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ynscrazylife · 3 years

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Hi there! Can I request a Percy Jackson x Daughter of Apollo!Reader, that's more hurt-comfort? I'm thinking that they're both 18-19 and bump into each other after their messy breakup when they were 15-16 and young and dumb and it's slightly awkward but they still both desperately love each other? Feel free to tie it up however you'd like! Thank you so much <3

This is my first PJO request so thank you so much! I hope that you enjoyed.

Note: Per the request this will feature a daughter of Apollo, but you should be able to switch it up in your head a little to match yourself if your godly parent isn’t Apollo.

ALSO there is a tiny bit of Annabeth bashing in this (I’m so sorry cause I love Percabeth) but know that this is just for the fic’s purpose!

Not Broken, Just Bent

(I feel like these lyrics sorta match their relationship so that’s why this is the title!)

Y/N had been fifteen years old when she had dated Percy Jackson for a year. And gods, it was the best year of her life. She had met Percy at Camp Half-Blood but they began Y/N had enrolled into his high school. She had been the daughter of Apollo and a mortal who knew of the Godly world, and she had dropped her off at Camp Half-Blood when she was born. So Y/N had never seen what life was like outside the boarder, but when she finally did, she had Percy there to guide her.

They had a fantastic time. He helped Y/N connect to some other relatives and they went to the beach together. It wasn’t long before they fell in love. However, when the summer rolled around, Annabeth came. Y/N had always been a little bit intimidated of Annabeth, but she also instantly recognized that the daughter of Athena had a crush on Percy. This stemmed the root of their breakup, as Percy was oblivious to her feelings. They soon got into fights, as Y/N was too oblivious to recognize that Percy was oblivious. She thought he liked Annabeth and he accused her of being jealous. It didn’t end well.

Since then, Y/N had “graduated” from Camp Half-Blood and was living in the mortal world. She hadn’t been there to here what Camp Jupiter was so she didn’t know she could go to New Rome. Percy, on the other hand, was healing from a couple months of being broken up with Annabeth. And as he did . . . He couldn’t help but think back to the woman before Annabeth. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing now . . .

So you could imagine his surprise when he was going to take his shift of patrolling the boarders and saw Y/N just barely past, having dropped to her knees. She was beaten and bruised and the very sight glued Percy to his place momentarily.

“Y/N?” Percy said, snapping back to reality. He thought that just for a moment that he had been imagining her because he was thinking about her, but he knew it was real when she let out a small cry of pain. The brunette rushed to her side.

“Y/N, what happened? You need to tell me where you’re hurt?” Percy said. He forgot all about how complicated their break-up had been and was only concerned about her well-being. There was worry glossing over his eyes as he didn’t know whether to take her arm or if that would hurt her, so he opted to putting a hand under her chin and tilting her head up.

Y/N’s eyes met his. She looked exhausted. “Monsters . . . They’ve been chasing me quite a lot recently . . . So I came here . . . One came out when I was almost at the boarder and I lost my sword . . .” With that, her head slumped forward and Percy grasped her shoulders as she passed out.

“SHIT,” Percy cursed loudly. He pushed her so she was still on her knees but upright, and then put his hands underneath her armpits. Percy then pulled her up with himself as he stood up, and maneuvered himself so at he was by her side so he could put one arm under her legs and the other around her back to pick her up. The Demigod did his best not to injure Y/N any further, and then took off for the medbay.

“WILL!” Percy yelled, bursting inside. The blonde teenager looked up and was alarmed to see his friend carrying his sister. Percy hurriedly explained what Y/N had told him, stumbling over his words as he was desperate. He was helpless as Will took Y/N from his arms and laid her on the bed.

“We’ll have to wait until she’s awake to give her ambrosia,” Will muttered.

“When will she wake up? Is there anything I can do to help? Is she okay?” Percy rambled out, glancing between him and his sister.

Will thought for a moment. “Can you grab some bandages? They’re in the back,” he said.

Percy nodded, nearly tripping over his chair as he stood up. He grabbed all of the bandages he could see and came back, basically shoving them into Will’s lap.

He then watched, tapping his foot anxiously, as Will wrapped her head which was bleeding and her wrist and ankle.

After finishing, Will stood up and got some ambrosia.

“That won’t be enough to heal all of her injuries,” Percy noted.

“I know, but if she takes too much then she’ll get feverish and we don’t want that,” Will said. “We can’t control what the ambrosia heals when she has multiple injuries, so let’s hope her head gets healed.”

Will put the ambrosia on her bedside table, and that’s when Nico burst in, out of breath.

“Training room - someone needs hurt,” Nico panted out, and Will nodded.

“Let me know when she wakes up,” Will said to Percy, and then added, “And take good care of my sister.”

Percy nodded and his attention returned to Y/N as Will and Nico left. He sighed, not left alone with his thoughts. He had realized when he held her and worried about her, that being in love with her never really went away . . . And that love was much more purse and heartwarming than his love for Annabeth. With Annabeth, he loved her, but maybe he wasn’t in love with her . . . Because it was difficult. He always worried about messing up or saying the wrong thing, but with Y/N, even if he was concerned for her, he remembered how comfortable it was to be with her, and how much she cared for him.

Oh, gods. He still loved Y/N. He was still in love with her.

He took a deep breath, and the only thing keeping him from beginning to freak out was when he noticed Y/N started to open her eyes. Percy waited with baited breath until she fully woke up and looked around.

“Percy?” She said, and he saw that she was confused.

“Hey,” he said softly, giving her the ambrosia. “A monster attacked you and you passed out. I took you back here - take this.”

Y/N nodded and took the ambrosia, shoving it into her mouth. After a couple of moments she groaned. “The dam ambrosia only healed my bruises and my wrist - not my head or ankle,” she said.

“If we give you anymore ambrosia you’ll become feverish,” Percy said, and couldn’t help but feel sad that she was in pain.

There were a couple of moments where they sat in silence, and that silenced allowed the awkwardness to grow like water allowed a plant to blossom.

“Thank you for, uh, taking me here,” Y/N said as their silence was creeping up upon a minute.

“Of course, of course,” Percy said immediately. “How have you, er, been doing?”

Y/N sighed. She was just going to go back to her normal life after this, so what did she lose in telling him the truth, anyway? Maybe she’d even get some closure from it.

“I know this is silly, but . . . I tried to move on from you and I never . . . Found someone that I loved and wanted to be with like you,” she was admitted, toying with the bed’s sheets.

She waited for Percy to tell her that he was happy and dating someone that was great and that he had moved on from her. So now it was Y/N’s turn to be surprised when he said the last thing she ever would have thought of.

“With you, today, I realized I still loved you, Y/N. I did date Annabeth after us but we broke up. You, though, you’re amazing . . . And you were right. She did like me. So I’m sorry about how our relationship ended - I’m sorry what I said to you. When you’re better . . . I’d love go out for coffee or something. Honestly, I never knew how much I was missing you until today, and I’m still in love with you, even more than Annabeth,” he told her, and that scared himself a bit. This realization came onto him so suddenly, but he was so, so happy when he did say it. He never stopped being in love.

Y/N looked over at him, her eyes widened. Seeing his smile, it was contagious. She smiled as well, and reached out to take his hand. “I’d love that,” she said, softly, forgetting about her pain.

Percy chuckled and squeezed her hand - and that’s when Will interrupted.

“Aye, Jackson! Lay off my patient, okay?” Will said jokingly.

Percy laughed and Y/N rolled her eyes.

“It’s good to see you, too, bro,” she said.

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hrh-prince-butt · 3 years

Text

the memories are all i have

henry finds an old relic from the past, and it brings back memories of his dad. basically, this is inspired by a headcanon of mine.

read it on AO3

The book is heavy and covered in dust when Henry picks it up. It was in one of the boxes of things he hasn’t yet decided if he will bring with him to America. When he dusts it off, the title, written in intricate gold letters, becomes visible:

The Complete Collection of Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen.

Henry’s breath catches in his throat as he is filled with recognition. This book… He opens it, to find that the pages have gone stiff and yellow with age. This book must be nearly as old as himself. He can’t remember when he got it, but he must have been really young.

The pages don’t make any sound as he flips through it, stopping nearly halfway through. The title of each story is written in beautiful cursive letters and accompanied by a little illustration. This one is of a swan, floating peacefully on a lake, its head held up in an elegant and prideful manner. It’s beautiful, and he’s seen it a million times before.

“Daddy, will you read to me?”

Henry is just tall enough for his head to poke up behind his dad’s desk. What he’s doing looks important and adult-y and incredibly boring. What he should be doing is reading to Henry. Or playing with Henry. Bea is at a sleepover with her school friends, and the palace seems empty and sad, with nothing fun for him to do.

His dad smiles apologetically. “Sorry, love,” he says. “I have so much to do. How about later?”

“Pwease?” Henry says. He’s perfectly capable of pronouncing the word correctly, but his experience tells him he’s more likely to get what he wants when adults find him adorable.

It looks like an internal battle is taking place in his dad’s head, and he doesn’t sound as certain when he says: “I’ll read to you before bed like I always do, I promise. But I haven’t got time right now, baby. I’m sorry.”

Henry pouts and looks up at his dad with the biggest puppy eyes he can muster. There’s not much his big blue eyes and full, rosy cheeks can’t accomplish. “But I wanna read now, daddy,” he pleads.

“Oh, how can I say no to you?” His dad sighs, defeated. He chuckles and shakes his head, getting up from his desk chair. “Fine. You pick out a book and I’ll read to you, but just for a bit, okay? Daddy is very busy.”

The book is almost too heavy for Henry to carry, but he manages to get it to the sitting room. He crawls onto his dad’s lap, nestling himself between two big, strong arms.

They flip through the pages together, and Henry stops him at the story of the ugly duckling. The illustration of the swan is what caught his eye the first time he saw it. But the story itself has gripped him ever since his dad first read it to him. The little duckling who grows up feeling wrong, misplaced... For some reason, it resonates with him. His favourite part is the ending, when the ugly duckling grows into a beautiful swan and finds a place it truly belongs. Henry doesn’t feel like he belongs in this palace. Everything here is too perfect. But right here, in his dad’s arms, he feels at home.

His dad starts reading: “It was so beautiful out in the country, it was summer- the wheat fields were golden, the oats were green, and down among the green meadows the hay was stacked …”

Henry can already picture the scene. The beautiful countryside on a summer day, surely the most peaceful place to be. He closes his eyes and immerses himself in the story, allowing his dad’s voice to carry him far away.

“Will you read to me?”

The typical hospital sounds - machines beeping, hurried footsteps along the hallway, uncomfortable silences - have all faded into the background by now. It’s just the two of them, Henry and his dad.

It’s difficult to look at him, his dad who has always been the strongest and bravest person Henry knows, in a hospital bed looking weak and exhausted. He doesn’t look like himself, Henry thinks. His face is pale and sunken, and he has been rapidly losing weight lately. There doesn’t seem to be much of him left, and it hurts to look at, so Henry picks up the book of fairy tales from his nightstand. He found it on a shelf a few days ago, collecting dust, and he figured maybe his dad would like it if he read aloud to him. It seems like returning a favour, almost.

“Which story do you want me to read?” He asks softly.

“Hmm.” His dad closes his eyes, and is silent for so long Henry thinks he might’ve fallen asleep. He’s about to put the book away when his dad finally answers: “That one you always loved as a child… The ugly duckling, right?”

Henry tries to smile. “Yeah.” He doesn’t need to look in the registry for the page number: Even after all these years, he remembers what page it begins on. He can’t do what his dad used to do; make the stories come to life so it feels like you’re there, so instead, he lets his voice be a warm and comforting presence in the otherwise sterile room.

Halfway through the story, he feels his dad’s hand on his own and looks up. “Do you want me to stop?” He asks.

His dad shakes his head. “No, just… You know I love you, right?”

“Oh.” Henry takes his hand. “I love you too, dad.”

“And, you know, if you ever think that there’s something… some part of you that I would be disappointed in or that would make me love you any less… Just know that’s not the case. I will always love you no matter what, baby.”

Henry feels his stomach drop. Does his dad know? How could he? No one knows, not even Bea. “I, er…” He doesn’t know what to say, so he just gives his dad’s hand a gentle squeeze and continues reading.

He doesn’t get far before his dad is fast asleep. It’s the last time he’s alone with him.

“Henry, sweetheart?”

The voice carries Henry swiftly and mercilessly back to reality. Alex is standing in the doorway. His eyebrows crease in a concerned look when Henry turns to face him.

“What's wrong, baby?” In a few long strides, Alex crosses the room to where Henry is standing, still holding the book.

Henry looks down at the heavy book in his hands, still opened at the page where the ugly duckling begins. He follows the sketched lines of the swan carefully, mostly to avoid looking at Alex. “Nothing,” he mumbles. “I’m fine.”

Alex brings up his hand to stroke Henry’s hair. “It doesn’t look that way,” he says, but when Henry stays quiet, he lets it go. “Found anything worth keeping?” He half gestures to the book in Henry’s hands.

He nods, looking from the book to Alex. His deep brown eyes, looking at Henry with a mix of love and concern. He sighs, lowering his eyes to the book again. “I wish I’d told him,” he says abruptly.

“Huh?”

“I wish I’d come out to him.”

Alex brushes a hand along his arm. “Who? Your dad?”

Henry nods. “At the time it didn’t seem relevant, or… Well, I guess part of me was scared of how he would take it. And there was so little time left. I never really mustered up the courage, I guess? But… I don’t know.” He bites his lip, willing the tears back. “In the hospital, when he was really sick… It seemed like he was trying to hint at it. Maybe that’s wishful thinking, or maybe he was just confused and disoriented from all the meds and the pain and… I don’t know. But if I could go back in time and change one thing, I think I would’ve told him.”

Alex seems unsure of what to say. He reaches up to place a soft kiss on Henry’s cheek. “I’m sure he would’ve been proud of where you are today.”

Henry nods, forcing a half-hearted smile. “I hope so,” he says. “And to answer your question, yes, I’m keeping the book.”

He closes it, carefully studying the intricate gold writings on the deep blue cover. The memories it holds are far too important to be lost.

#this is my first time posting a fic in this fandom so pls be nice #henry fox mountchristen windsor #prince henry of wales #arthur fox #alex claremont diaz #firstprince #rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb fanfic

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nillegible · 4 years

Text

Not Death, but Sleep

(A 3zun fix-it fic)

‘Not death, but sleep,’ the story went. The little well spirit, too weak to break the death-curse that a greater dark spirit that had placed over the innocent baby, had pressed her hand to the infant’s forehead. She had poured all her soul into a single blessing, all her strength for one thing only; that the child would sleep, not die.

“Why couldn’t she practice and grow stronger?” Meng Yao would ask, and Mother would laugh and poke his cheek and tell him that well-spirits are very small, but she tried her best. The story always sat wrongly with Meng Yao. Back then it had, at least. It was not fair that the well spirit couldn’t fix what was wrong. It wasn’t fair that the princess had been cursed as a baby, before she’d done anything to deserve it. It wasn’t fair that the queen couldn’t find anyone but a forgotten little well-spirit to try to save her child. “It’s not fair,” he’d tell her, each time the well-spirit blessed the infant and fell short of her desire, and each time his mother would smile.

“Ah, my precious A-Yao, you are right. But the world is not fair, and she could only do what she could do.” Mother would say, smiling in that soft way of hers, pinching his cheek lightly, before she continued the story. “Because it seemed hopeless, the king demanded that every spindle in the land be…”

Meng Yao Jin Guangyao likes the story no better now, but he understands more than he did back then. Jin Guangyao was also too weak. “She could only do what she could,” Mother would say, and he now understands the heartbreak of that being not enough.

“I want you to kill Nie Mingjue,” Father had told him, two weeks ago, now. His voice had been low but pleasant, like he’d only been asking Jin Guangyao to pour him more tea.

“Father, I’m trying to get him to stop asking about Xue Yang, I’m sure that I can–”

“I have given you time. And it is not just that boy. Nie Mingjue grows troublesome in other matters as well, he seeks to destabilize me at every turn. You will remove him.” His voice had stayed pleasant. His eyes had glittered coldly with warning: Jin Guangyao was far less valuable than a Sect Leader, and would be far far easier to dispose of.

“I understand Father. I will take care of it,” Jin Guangao had said, and has not had a moment’s peace since.

It doesn’t take him long to decide on a method.

Or rather, it’s not long before the ideal method is dropped straight into his lap. Er-ge requests a favor, asks him to please learn Cleansing, a powerful Lan sect technique to clear resentment and settle an unquiet spirit. Nie Mingjue’s temper and health were in decline, and Er-ge wants Jin Guangyao to help him heal. His hope – that this would give them an opportunity to mend the broken trust and friendship between them – was transparently obvious, but Jin Guangyao has never found place in his heart to deny this man anything.

“We can help him, A-Yao. We must. Da-ge is not himself, and we need to… We cannot lose him.”

Lying is no harder than speaking, for Meng Yao, but this time the lie tears into his lungs. “Of course, Er-ge. His brothers will support him until he is well again.” I’ve been asked to kill him, Er-ge. Why would you trust me with this?

It does not matter that he does not want to do it. Jin Guangyao practices Cleansing at Qinghe under Lan Xichen’s careful tutelage. At Lanling, he spends sleepless nights perfecting a darker, foreign melody, meant to tear someone’s sanity apart.

His heart is troubled, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the lack of sleep, the discordant notes he coaxes from his guqin each night, or the cold, lingering gaze of his Father that seems to ask, have you begun? Will he die?

The answer is yes. Yes, Jin Guangyao will kill him, because he has been asked. Because when it comes down to it, he is the dark spirit that had lost its way, and would destroy someone who was undeserving of the malice. Someone who was loved.

The first time that Jin Guangyao plays the piece for Nie Mingjue, his heart pounds in fear while his hands elegantly play the butchered, chimeric tune. He’s afraid that his eldest sworn brother would notice the difference in the song, would notice that it felt wrong, even after the last note is played and lingers in the room as he looks up to meet Nie Mingjue’s eyes. But Nie Mingjue, even tenser and more ill-tempered than he was before Jin Guangyao started to play, just nods and thanks him shortly and walks away.

It’s terribly rude; Jin Guangyao would be injured by such treatment on any other day.

Today, he has begun slowly killing the man. He will not take insult.

Jin Guangyao spends his time after returning to Lanling terribly nervous, unable to focus as usual. Perhaps Nie Mingjue had not confronted him immediately, but would reached out to Lan Xichen with his suspicions?

His fears are unfounded; a letter arrives for him a week later from Sect Leader Nie. Could he trouble Jin Guangyao to return and play for him soon? He did not wish to disturb their second brother, who was still busy with the rebuilding of his sect.

Jin Guangyao promptly sends a response: He would be honoured to help, he would make the time to visit as soon as possible. (His fingers do not tremble on the guqin strings as he practices the song alone, in preparation. He wonders at the monster he’s become.)

It’s while he’s playing for Nie Mingjue the second time that it happens. His eldest sworn brother is doing his best to relax – there’s incense, and the tea they were served has calming properties – but Jin Guangyao’s music is doing as intended, and Nie Mingjue’s face is visibly tense, his jaw locked, and the longer it goes on the worse it gets.

It’s partly the music, partly the frustration that he isn’t calming down as he should be. Jin Guangyao imagines that it is not unlike the panic that insomnia brings him, the desperate desire to just fall asleep making him anxious enough to drive any semblance of rest from him as he lies awake in the dark.

His fingers fumble on the strings and he stops, startled. Nie Mingjue’s eyes open and he looks to him questioningly. “Is something wrong, Meng Yao?”

It’s the wrong name. Always the wrong name. But at the moment, for what he wishes, it may just be the right one. Nie Mingjue has wronged Meng Yao many times, but Nie Mingjue was also the one who had defended him from cultivators who taunted and mistreated him. Nie Mingjue was the first person to value him, to give him a chance to prove his worth, and then acknowledged that he did well.

It was because the queen had swept the well-spirit’s forgotten shrine, Jin Guangao remembers. That was why the well-spirit stepped up to divert the curse.

He stares a moment longer at Nie Mingjue, long enough that he frowns, and this time Jin Guangao imagines his brows are creasing in worry not anger. “Are you alright, you’ve gone pale.” His voice still betrays his temper; a barely contained inferno, but Jin Guangyao is partially to blame for that.

“Forgive, me, Da-ge. May I start again?”

“If you need a break, you can have one. You can play for me later,” Nie Mingjue says.

“No, please, close your eyes again. I merely realized something.”

Still looking faintly suspicious, Nie Mingjue does as asked and shuts his eyes.

Jin Guangyao sets his fingers to the guqin and plays again. This time the music is simple and clear, lifting and rejuvenating. When Jin Guangyao plays the last notes and looks up, the anger has melted away from his sworn brother. He’s smiling faintly, and Jin Guangyao’s eyes catch on the softness of it.

When Nie Mingjue opens his eyes, and sees Jin Guangyao watching, the smile doesn’t fade. “You figured something out, didn’t you? This time felt so much better.”

“Yes, Da-ge. I was a poor student, Er-ge will not be pleased with me for taking so long… but I understand now.”

“Xichen will never be displeased with you, that you play it so well without the Lan’s rigorous training is a credit to your skills. And I thank you,” Nie Mingjue says. He breathes deep, as if enjoying that he can. That faint smile has still not vanished. “I am much improved.”

Jin Guangao knows. The spiritual power of Cleansing is considerable, and when played correctly and regularly it could bolster Nie Mingjue’s spirit and life for decades longer.

“You’re welcome Da-ge. I promise. I promise to do what I can to help you.” And this promise is not a lie, not a vow he means to break.

Father wants Nie Mingjue dead, and Jin Guangao does not have the means to stop him.

But he can divert the curse.

Not death, but sleep.

That, Jin Guangao can do.

[Author’s Note: The particular form of the sleeping beauty story used here I got from Vathara’s fic Embers! It’s a gorgeous version and I love it.

Somehow an old post of mine, where I said I should write a fic about MY hiding NMJ away and faking his death to appease JGS popped back up? I’d completely forgotten about it. But well, it’s a lovely idea, so I thought I’d start on it! I hope you liked the fic!]

#meng yao #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #mdzs #the untamed #fairy tale castle #fix-it #3zun fix-it #nieyao #nielan #sleeping beauty

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 4 years

Text

Love Enough to Spare

doing this thing | day 17 - accidental voyeurism

wow this got long af and also was not finished on time and also doesn’t exactly fit the prompt, but it’s 1am and I am exhausted so have some smut 🎉

Geralt usually prefers the silence of the forest to the comfort of towns and Jaskier can hardly blame him for that considering the way he's treated. It does, however, make Geralt's absolute insistence that they reach town before nightfall, a little out of character. They're not wanting for anything and it's a beautiful night - bright and clear to the point where Jaskier would happy to sleep out under the stars. But Geralt is adamant. Even when they're both weary and in need of rest, Geralt pushes on. Usually, he would let Jaskier stops for a few moments to rest, but not tonight.

Jaskier's confusion only grows when they reach the town. It's old and small; only a few houses, a blacksmith, and, surprisingly, a small inn. The place is tiny, just a single level and no common area to speak of, which makes it even more surprising when Geralt insists on paying for two rooms. Once again, Jaskier keeps his mouth shut and takes the key Geralt presses into his hand. There isn't any point in arguing when Geralt is this set on something.

He can't help but be a little disappointed though. Most of their money goes toward feeding Roach and upkeep on Geralt's armour and swords, as such staying in town usually means sharing a bed to save money - and those are Jaskier's favourite nights. Alas, it seems tonight will not be one of them and after bidding Geralt goodnight at the front counter, he makes his way to his appointed room.

Jaskier sets his lute to one side of the small room and goes about his nightly routine, but it's lonely without Geralt and even when he crawls into bed, he finds himself leaving space for someone else. It's summertime, so it isn't cold sleeping alone, but it does feel strange; even when Jaskier is not sharing a bed with Geralt, he is always somewhere close by. He misses the whisper of Geralt's breath, the shuffling sounds as he makes himself comfortable. This little room in this little inn is much too quiet.

So he tosses and turns for a little while before sitting up and lighting a candle. There's nothing for it; he'll either have to sneak into Geralt's room to sleep - by now he should have finished whatever he needed the separate room for - or he'll be awake all night and have to travel half-awake tomorrow. The latter is clearly the lesser choice, but he isn't sure he'll be welcome in Geralt's room, so for now, he pulls out his notebook and takes to writing.

He loses track of time, but it's well after midnight when Jaskier hears footsteps outside his door. Curious, and hopeful that Geralt has changed his mind about their separation, he climbs out of bed and tiptoes across the room to the door. He peers through a crack in the wood, hoping to see Geralt on the other side of the door, but when he looks- he's a Witcher, certainly, but not Geralt.

The man outside his door isn't dissimilar to Geralt, but his hair is cropped much shorter and it's dark where it falls around his ears. He's dressed in red and black and he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall so his face is turned away. He's waiting, Jaskier realizes, but for what?

Jaskier gets his answer a few moments later when Geralt's bedroom door swings open and he steps out into the main room in only his trousers. Geralt smiles as he lays eyes on the visitor and the other Witcher relaxes, pushing off the wall and spreading his arms to pull Geralt into a hug. A friend, Jaskier realizes, though he had already assumed as much when he's put the man down as a Witcher.

Geralt lets himself be drawn closer and he doesn't move when the other man's arms cinch around his waist. It's only then that Jaskier realizes Geralt's arms are around his neck and that one of his hands is pushing up into the stranger's hair. Ah, so more than just a friend.

"Eskel," Geralt breathes and the man nuzzles against his neck.

"Been a while, Wolf."

"Mm, too long."

Eskel, Jaskier thinks. He knows that name, though Geralt has only mentioned him in passing; one of the few wolves left. He knows Geralt spends the winter with them, but the rest of the year - or most of it - he's with Jaskier. Suddenly, the insistence on town and two rooms make sense: this is a meeting place and Geralt has been eagerly awaiting their reunion if his actions now are anything to go by.

He draws back just a little, letting his palms slide against Eskel's shoulders and he smiles at him, head cocked like he's appraising him. Even in the dim lighting, Jaskier can see how beautiful he is, how his eyes are soft in Eskel's presence, his face free of its usual strain and concern.

There's a faint twitch of jealousy than runs through his as Eskel tips forward and catches Geralt's lips in a soft kiss. It's readily welcomed and Geralt shuts his eyes and presses closer, letting himself be drawn in by Eskel. Jaskier presses down his own emotions, happy enough to see Geralt so serene and he shuts his eyes to catch his breath.

In all the years he's known Geralt, he's only ever known him to have shown affections for Yennefer and that was never with the same warm familiarity. It was soft and loving in its own way, he supposes, until the spell was broken, but when Jaskier stumbled upon Geralt and Yen it wasn't like this. He isn't sure what to compare it to, his own relationships barely lasting outside a couple of hours, but there's a distinct intimacy between the two men that Jaskier could never hope to live up to.

"Fuck, I've missed you," Eskel rumbles, drawing away to kiss Geralt's neck.

"It's barely been four months," Geralt huffs back. He makes no attempt to push Eskel away or take a step back himself. Instead, he pulls one of Eskel's hands from his waist, tangling their fingers together. When Eskel stops and looks up at him, Geralt smiles. "I've missed you, too." Geralt leads and Eskel follows him into his room, disappearing with a click of the door.

Jaskier is disappointed, though he knows he shouldn't be. He shouldn't pry into Geralt's life, though as he crosses back to his bed and crawls back under his blanket, he can't get the image of the two men out of his head. Next door, there's a thud against the wall and a low chuckle and Jaskier closes his eyes, pretending like he doesn't know what's going on. If he acknowledges it, he'll either be overcome with jealousy or arousal and neither is preferable to the other in this situation.

He rolls onto his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow and hopes that sleep will take him soon. But it doesn't.

As Jaskier turns once again onto his side, Geralt groans from the other side of the wall, and Jaskier's mind is flooded with images of all the things Eskel could be doing to draw those sounds from him. It certainly doesn't aid his inability to sleep. Perhaps he could write about it - with the names changed, of course - to distract himself from the event itself. But it doesn't work, as it turns out.

Jaskier sits up and retrieves his notebook, but now that he's awake, the sounds from the other side of the wall only seem more prominent. And Jaskier isn't immune to the sounds of sex, though he tries not to be. He tamps down the coil of heat in his gut, occupies his twitching fingers with his quill, even if it means sketching mindlessly instead of writing when his mind won't focus. He wonders if Geralt has to put up with this all the time. They stay in many inns and Jaskier has firsthand experience as to Geralt's sensitive hearing; there must be times when he can hear others fucking.

What if he's heard him? Another wave of arousal crashes over him and next door, someone moans softly. Jaskier's attention is immediately diverted and he tangles his fingers in the sheets to keep from touching himself. The sounds get louder and Jaskier pries himself out of his bed, grabs his cloak from the back of the chair and drapes it over his shoulders as he leaves the room. He doesn't even make it to the door before he hears a creak of hinges behind him.

"Jaskier," Geralt hisses and Jaskier sighs and wraps his cloak around him before turning to face him. Geralt's leaning halfway out the door and he looks... gods, he looks well-fucked for lack of a better word. And words seem to be escaping Jaskier right now.

Geralt is shirtless, his hair mussed and sticking out all over the place and Jaskier's cock gives a twitch of interest and he has to swallow back a groan. His fingers itch to run through Geralt's hair, to run down his chest and tangle in the hair there. He doesn't answer for fear of blurting his thoughts out loud.

"Come here," Geralt demands and Jaskier's feet obey before he can stop himself. Thankfully, he has the wherewithal to stop before he's too close and Geralt gives him a look. "Where do you think you're going? Do you know how late it is?"

"I was just-" he says but finds he doesn't know what he was just about to do "-going for a walk."

"Do you know how late it is?"

"I, er- yes, but-"

"Jaskier, go back to bed."

"I'd rather not." He says, looking down at the floor as heat rises in his cheeks. His brain races with something to say that's not just I can't listen to you fucking him any longer but nothing comes to mind. Just then, Eskel appears over Geralt's shoulder, pulling the door open a little further. He looks at Jaskier, taking him in and leaning in against Geralt's back.

"Why don't you ask him to stay?" he breathes and it's so quiet that at first Jaskier thinks he's mistaken until he sees the look on Geralt's face. Geralt turns to look at him, and Eskel leans in closer but his eyes remain on Jaskier. "I know you want him," Eskel hums, "and I can never deny you anything you want."

"I-" Geralt starts - and so far as Jaskier is concerned, this is the most important thing - he doesn't deny it. He turns back to face Jaskier looking more lost and helpless than Jaskier thought a Witcher could. He lifts his eyes but doesn't quite meet Jaskier's. "You're welcome to join us," he breathes, quietly like he's afraid Jaskier might hear him, "if you like."

Jaskier's entire body prickles with arousal and he shifts his stance. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, afraid that if he tries to speak this will all be a dream and he'll wake alone in his bed. He nods lightly and Geralt's expression brightens immediately.

"Come on then," Eskel says and Jaskier takes a step forward, watching the way they both watch him, how Geralt especially can't keep his eyes off of him.

It's equal parts exciting a nerve-wracking, but he doesn't let himself think too much about it as he approaches the door. When he's close enough, Geralt slips an arm around his waist and Jaskier allows himself to be drawn into the room. The door shuts behind them and as Geralt rounds on him, another pair of hands slide up his back, curling around his shoulders before moving down again. Jaskier presses into the touch, physically leaning back and taking in the image in front of him. At first, Geralt seems concerned about his distance, but when he realizes Jaskier is (staring), his lips twitch into a vague smile and he brings his hands to Jaskier's hips.

Geralt is fully naked now as he suspects, Eskel is behind him. Jaskier takes in the firm lines of his chest, reaching out to slip his fingers through the hair there and he follows it down. Geralt shudders as Jaskier's fingers slip below his navel, but Jaskier hesitates a moment before continuing his journey down. His fingertips barely brush against Geralt's cock, but he can feel how hard he is and Jaskier wants more. His fingers twitch against his skin and when Geralt doesn't stop him, Jaskier slips lower, curling a hand around the base of Geralt's cock. Jaskier doesn't have a chance to think anything past, fuck, he's big, before Geralt presses into his space, capturing Jaskier's lips in a heated kiss.

Behind him, Eskel presses closer, sliding his hands down Jaskier's thighs. His hands are rough, calloused like Geralt's, but despite the way Eskel's fingertips press into his skin, all Jaskier can focus on his Geralt's mouth against his own. He moans softly against him and Geralt's hands rise to his neck, unclasping his cloak and letting it drop. Eskel collects it, tossing it toward a chair at the edge of the room. His hands shortly return to Jaskier, slipping around to his front and fumbling with the ties on Jaskier's shirt.

Geralt huffs a soft laugh, breaking away from Jaskier to take Eskel's hands. He presses them to Jaskier's hips and goes about untying JAskier's shirt himself. He's gentle about it, and Jaskier appreciates the care he takes with his clothes, but right now he'd rather just have it torn off of him and repaired in the morning if need be. But he waits patiently as Geralt's fingers work at the ties.

"Do you like that?" Geralt breathes, pressing his forehead to Jaskier's. Jaskier nods softly, a small sigh slipping between them as Geralt finishes with the ties and drops his hands to his trousers. Eskel takes care of his shirt, lifting it above his head and discarding it.

Without the hindrance of clothing, Jaskier can feel the heat of Eske's body pressing up against him and he leans into it, pushing his hips forward to ease Geralt's work. He drops his head back, pressing his nose under Eskel's chin and kissing him experimentally. Eskel hums softly and tips Jaskier's chin up to look at him.

"You really are beautiful," he whispers and Jaskier flourishes under the praise. Immediately, he likes Eskel; like the touch of his hands and the low timbre of his voice. "Can I kiss you?" he asks and Jaskier surges forward before he's even finished speaking.

Eskel is warm and receptive and Jaskier lets himself sink into the kiss as Geralt gets his trousers undone and shoves them down his hips. When they drop to the floor, Jaskier steps out of them, kicking them to the side. He reaches out for Geralt, sliding a hand around his hip and pulling him forward.

Warm lips press against his skin, moving from his shoulder down to wrap around a nipple and Jaskier moans between Eskel's lips as Geralt's tongue slides against his skin. Pleasure zips through him, straight to his cock and Jaskier's hips twitch with it, aching and needy. Geralt pushes up against him and his cock slides against Jaskier's hip before Geralt wraps a hand around them both, stroking them as well as he can in the tight space.

Eskel's lips slip from his mouth, brushing down his jaw to kiss his neck and Jaskier rolls his head back with a groan. After a moment, Eskel draws away and Jaskier looks up to follow him. He watches as Eskel climbs up onto the bed, leaning back against the wall and taking himself in hand as his eyes settle on Geralt and Jaskier. Jaskier watches for a minute before turning back to Geralt, pressing in next to his ear.

"Would you like to join him?" he asks and Geralt draws back a little to look at him.

"Am I not enough for you?" he smiles. Jaskier huffs a laugh, moving to kiss his lips and for a second, he loses himself in the slide of Geralt's lips against his own, the press of his tongue between them. But he remembers himself, breaking away.

"More than enough, my darling. But you can have me any day you want me. How often do you get to see him?"

"Jas," Geralt whispers. He kisses him hard, a distraction, Jaskier learns as Geralt bends and hauls him into his arms. He carries him to the bed, depositing him next to Eskel. He kisses him softly, lingering like before turning away and kissing Eskel.

Immediately, Geralt is hauled up into his lap and Jaskier watches as Eskel's hands slide down his back, cupping his ass and pulling him forward. They move easily together and Jaskier realizes this is nothing new for them; whatever they share, it's old, lingering. He doesn't know what he did to be welcomed into it, but he's certainly thankful for it.

Geralt rocks forward, groaning as his cock slides against Eskel's and Jaskier's breath catches. He sits in silence, watching the way they move so fluidly together, the way Eskel seems to be the one to lead, the way he knows just where to touch and kiss and lick to make Geralt moan. He's so lost in the give and take that he doesn't realize Geralt is speaking to him until a hand rests on his thigh.

His eyes snap up to find Geralt looking at him and he tips up to kiss him, letting Geralt guide him closer. He settles himself against Gerlalt's back, sliding one arm around his waist and leaving the other free to touch as he pleases.

He slides a hand up his spine, fingertips brushing against the back of his neck and Geralt groans softly with every touch. He drops his head back onto Jaskier's shoulder, nuzzling against his neck and Eskel takes the chance to follow him, cupping Jaskier's jaw with one hand and pulling him into a kiss. When he draws away, he keeps Jaskier close, hips still rocking forward slowly.

"When we heard you," he breathes, "I was about to fuck him. Though," he pauses, pressing a kiss to Jaskier's jaw, "I suspect you'd both prefer if you fucked him." Jaskier's breath catches at the suggestion and Geralt lifts his head to speak but Eskel silences him with a well-timed kiss.

"I know you love me," Eskel hums, reaching up to trace the line of Geralt's jaw, "but I also know you have love enough to spare. And I know you've thought about it, having him inside you." He breathes against Geralt's ear, lifting his eyes to meet Jaskier's. "Do you want him, love?"

"Yes," Geralt whispers and he turns to look at Jaskier. "I want you, I-" he stammers, dropping his chin and Jaskier is quick to tip it back up, two fingers beneath it. He kisses him softly, slowly bringing his hand up to press against Geralt's cheek.

"Anything, darling." Jaskier traces a line down his back, following his spine and slips between his cheeks. He's pleasantly surprised to find him already slick and one finger pushes into him easily.

Geralt groans and Eskel holds him, pulling him closer so that Jaskier has to shuffle up behind him. He shifts onto his knees, relishing the warmth of Eskel's legs on either side of him as he presses into Geralt's body. Geralt shudders as he adds a second finger and Jaskier kisses his back, runs his free hand down his thigh.

As he's sliding a third finger into Geralt, Eskel reaches around, pressing a bottle of oil into his hand and Jaskier is quick to slick his cock. The touch feels incredible, but he holds off from touching himself, instead shifting to press his cock against Geralt's hole. He presses in slowly, gripping Geralt's hip and thigh as he sinks into him. Geralt rocks back onto him almost immediately and Jaskier whimpers softly, dropping his forehead against Geralt's back.

"Fuck," he whispers, "gods, Geralt you're incredible." He fucks into him slowly, pressing kisses into Geralt's skin. He keeps his pace steady, even as Geralt sits back on him, dropping his head to Jaskier's shoulder.

When Jaskier looks up, Eskel still has a hand wrapped around his own cock and Geralt's, stroking them quickly in time with Jaskier's thrusts. He tips forward when he catches Jaskier watching him, and leans forward to kiss him. Jaskier reaches around to touch him, jerking Eskel with smooth strokes as he kisses him, nipping at his bottom lip before drawing away.

"Eskel," Geralt breathes and Jaskier is hit with just how wrecked he sounds, his voice rougher and lower than usual. "I want you both," he groans, wrapping a hand around the back of Eskel's neck and pulling him in close.

"Fuck," Jaskier sighs, "are you sure, darling?"

Eskel tips his head up and Geralt meets his eyes, nodding certainly. Jaskier curses softly under his breath and he pulls out slowly. Geralt moves quickly, straddling Eskel's hips and Jaskier watches intently, squeezing the base of his cock as Geralt shifts. Eskel's cock slips between his cheeks and Jaskier groans at the sight of it. His own cock throbs watching them and when Eskel pushes into him Jaskier nearly doubles over. He strokes himself quickly as he readjusts his position and when he presses up against Geralt, he almost forgets to breathe.

As he presses into him, Geralt moans long and low and it's the sweetest sound Jaskier's ever heard. When he settles, he can barely breathe because Geralt is so tight around him and he can feel every time Eskel shifts and it's overwhelming. He rolls his hips slowly and Geralt reaches back, slipping his fingers between Jaskier's and bringing his hand up to rest on his thigh.

Jaskier buries his face in Geralt's neck, thrusting into him quick and hard and he's so overwhelmed by the intensity of it. As they move together, Eskel's hips shift, sliding his cock against him and Jaskier can't hold on.

He buries himself deep, breathing against Geralt's skin and kissing him desperately as he comes. Geralt twists, wrapping an arm around Jaskier's neck and kisses him with urgency, biting his bottom lip and moaning into his mouth. He continues even as Jaskier slips from his body and Eskel thrusts up into him.

Geralt comes with a soft groan, pressing his head against Eskel's shoulder. It doesn't take long for Eskel to follow and he tugs Gerlt against him, wrapping his arms around Geralt's shoulders and kissing his neck. Jaskier shifts to the side, out of the way, detangling his fingers from Geralt's as he moves to the far side of the bed. He settles on his back to keep out of the way, but it's barely a second before a hand slips into his hair, brushing it gently out of his face.

When he looks up, he finds Eskel looking down at him thought he's shortly interrupted as Geralt shifts out of Eskel's lap and settles between them. He presses back against Eskel, slipping an arm around Jaskier's waist to pull him against him. He nuzzles against the back of his neck and Jaskier smiles to himself as he feels Eskel shift on Geralt's other side.

"'M sorry," Geralt mumbles, "should've told you." Jaskier twists to face him.

"About Eskel?"

"And you," Geralt hums. He leans up, kissing Jaskier briefly before lying back down and bringing him close again. Jaskier settles back against him and smiles. There are things they will definitely have to discuss tomorrow, but for now, he's happy to sleep, especially warm and safe with two Witchers to protect him.

It's quiet for some time and Jaskier is nearly asleep, focusing on the rise and fall of Geralt's chest against him when Eskel speaks.

"You could've just told me he was with you," he says and Geralt shifts to look back at him.

"I didn't want you to change your mind.

"Geralt, you know nothing could keep me from you. Nothing." There's silence again and then, "you should bring him in the winter."

"I don't know if he'd want to," Geralt whispers and Jaskier can hear the smile in Eskel's voice when he speaks again.

"I don't think there's any need to worry about that," he breathes, "ask him. And bring him next time we meet."

Jaskier doesn't know what to do with this information, but they both seem to think he's asleep, so he continues pretending. He rolls over, draping an arm over Geralt's side, fingers brushing against Eskel's stomach. As he drifts off, he's sure of one thing; if Geralt asks him to join him - to join them - for the winter, nothing could keep him away.

#geralt x eskel x jaskier #rex writes #october prompts 2k20

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wonderwomanfantasy · 3 years

Text

Today. Tomorrow. Forever.

no one liked the first part but fuck you a part two

part one

Dabi x reader (we’ll get there)

warnings: Drinking, abuse, cannon divergence, swearing, spooky stuff

word count: 2,000 (about)

summary: the longer you stay with these ghosts the less you feel like yourself, as if something else had taken your place.

“Shoto, can we talk?” you asked quietly, as he poked at his bowl of cereal. Everything had seemingly gone back to normal, the only evidence that last night had even happened was the marks left around your throat. He shook his head and you sighed.

“Shoto, we have to talk about last night,” you said. His cheeks went hot with shame.

“I-I’m sorry please don’t be mad,” he pleaded tears filling his eyes. You blanched not knowing how to deal with this.

“No, No I’m not mad Shoto,” you reassured him, he didn’t calm down.

“It’s my fault!” he shouted putting his face in his hands.

“Sweetheart no,” you tried again, then on impulse you added “I won’t leave,” he sniffled and looked up at you.

“You’re going to stay?” he asked.

“Yeah I’m not going anywhere,” you said, reaching out to him, he winced and you didn’t touch him, not completing the action waiting for him to come to you, eventually he did. Giving you his hand to squeeze reasuringly.

“What happened lastnight wasn’t your fault, and it’s not going to scare me away.” you declared patting his soft cheeks dry with a napkin.

“Does that kind of thing happen a lot?” you asked and he nodded. “And did something like that happen and the last nanny got scared away because of it?” you asked and he nodded.

“The last three,”

“Well, Not me, that mean old ghost isn’t anything I haven’t delt with before,” you said in an effort to sooth him.

“He’s not mean- not most of the time anyways,” Shoto defended. “He just gets mad sometimes and it’s scary but he wouldn’t hurt me,” this supprised you, and you couldn’t help but not believe him. Even if this ghost loved him, even if this ghost was family, it could still hurt him.

“Do you know his name?” you asked. Shoto crossed over to you and cupped his hands around your ear before whispering in that loud breathy way children whispered.

“Toya,”

You didn’t plan on doing much that day, both of you too shell shocked for chit chat about books or a trip to the movies but you were saved from having to do any planning by a loud ringing of the door bell.

It made you jump. Anyone who worked at the home just came and went as they pleased, as did Enji, and any pakages came through the back door. You realized this must be the first time you’d heard the door bell rung. Shoto looked equally puzzled.

“Do you want to go see who it is?” you asked and he nodded sticking out his hand for you to take hold of. The two of you went down stares and just as you reached to forer you saw a white haired man about your age being welcomed in.

“Natsuo!” Shoto called out dropping your hand to rush to the man. Natsuo laughed and crouched catching Shoto in his arms and whisking him up in a tight hug.

“Hey kiddo!” he laughed happily than turned to you.

“Sorry for the unannounced visit, If I had had your number I would have called you,” he said, you offered him a tight smile. As bad as you were dealing with children you were even worse with your peers.

“No truoble at all, I’m (y/n) the nanny,” you said taking the hand he offered you and shaking it furmly.

“Natsuo, i’m the older brother,”

You warmed up to Natsuo quickly. It was hard not to like him when Shoto was so clearl thrilled to see him. He seemed like a good guy and you spent the day playing with hot wheeles with the two of them. You even let Shoto stay up passed his bedtime so he could spend somemore time with his brother, and when he was too sleepy to keep his eyes open any longer, Natsuo put him to bed.

“Can I get you a drink before you leave?” you offered.

“I’d love that,” he said. The cook had already left for the day, but you could manage yourself just fine. You poured him a glass of wine, then a glass for yourself, you both stood around the counter drinking and talking in hushed tones together.

“I’m surprised you took the job honestly,” he said, now just taking a quick swig form the wine bottle before passing it to you so you could take a drink too.

“I needed it,” you admitted.

“Still, there are better places to work, better people to work for,” he said bitterly.

“To be fair, I don’t know your father as well as you do,” you siad.

“But you heard the rummors right?”

“Just the ones that this place is haunted.” He scoffed, taking another drink.

“That all is bullshit, I’m talking about what people say about dad,”

“That I haven’t heard,”

“Well they aren’t rummors you know? T’sall true. He beat our mom until she went nuts and killed his own son. Everyone knows he did it too, but he’s got that rich bastard money so all his problems dispeared,” he spat drunkenly. There was an uncomfortable pause after that, you weren’t sure what to say after that, and Natsuo seemd to realized he’s killed the mood.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay, can you tell me about your brother?” you asked. Natsuo shrugged.

“He’s a good kid, but you know that, Shoto’s a good kid.”

“Sorry, not Shoto, your other brother,” you pried furhter. He sighed deaply.

“Toya was a mother fucker.” he said stuggling to think of anything else. “But I loved him. He was, mean and a son of a bitch but we were thick as theives growing up, he faught with dad alot, but I loved him.” He told you. It wasn’t much to go on but you guessed you should be glad that you had gotten that much.

“Fuyumi was the smart one she always had her nose in some book but we’d pull her hair to get her to chase us… god I miss her i’should call er,” he mumbled to himself.

“Natsuo do you want me to call you a cab? You probably shouldn’t be driving,”

“That be great, thank you.”

You called the cab. And saw Natsou off. And then you were alone, in this large house that felt so small. You turned off the lights in the house, as much as you hated to do so, and started to make your way upstairs. You gripped the hand rail tightly, and looked down at your feet making sure they landed firmly on the stair each time before you trusted your leg with your weight.

You were drunk, although not as drunk as Natsou and your vision blured slightly around the edges. There was a low groaning sound as the house settled and you stopped for a moment resting your head agains the railing. You were too drunk to deal with any ghosts right now.

“Please don’t” you said softly, hoping in vain that if someone was listening the would grant your plea. You straightend. Getting dizzy from the sudden head rush, and kept marching up the stairs. You felt your way down the hall using the walls as guidance to your room. Your sad room that felt so small.

You needed a shower you decided and stumbled to the bathroom. You took off your shirt, then your pants, then your undergarments. You looked at yourself in the mirror there was another person in the mirror. Ablurry second you. Naked, ecept for your silver locket, thick purple bruises still on your neck.

You could see there were scars running down your chest and arms from the last time you had taken the locket off. But this time is different. You thought. She’s gone, she can’t hurt you anymore. You felt like you were going to throw up, but whether it was the alcohol or the thought of your mother it was hard to tell.

Quickly you turned on the watter and stepped into the shower embracing the ice cold spray. You took a shuddering breath and balled your hands into fists.

You had been devastated when your mother died. Your father had left before you were born and she was all you had. Of course, she was dead, but not gone. It was hard to ignore her screaming and thrashing at her own funeral, demanding that people look at her, see her. But you had to pretend that she wasn’t there. After all, no one else could see her. You had been gifted the locket the next day, and moved in with your Aunt the day after that.

And your mother followed. Sometimes, you talked with her, sometimes you ignored her. Sometimes she kept quiet and let you ignore her, but often she didn’t. It had been horible watching her spirit wither away, litterally loseing pieces of her self day by day. You had just been a child, you hadn’t known any better. You were just scared of losing your mom.

When your mother possessed you, it set her back to normal, at least for a little while, all her peices were there. And she was so happy everytime too, so proud of you. She would smile and tell you how wonderful it was to eat again, to sing and be seen, all the things living people take for granted. It was awful everytime, to be ejected from your body and losing chunks of time and memory, you could still rembebr how empty it all felt.

But it made her so happy, and it ment you wouldn’t have to say goodbye. It became easier and easier for your mom to take over, until she just had to touch your locket to be in control of you while your own contious slipped away. She had started taking over more and more often too.

It was awful, you had just wanted to be in your own body for a single day so you took your locket off.

You flipped the watter from cold to hot, deciding that you had sobered up enough and wanting a bit of comfort. You set the water so hot that it burned, but burned in a good way. You breathed in the steam and watched your fingers prune before finally turning off the shower. You towled off and looked at your self in the mirror again. Just one you this time.

It was late, nearly one in the morning. But you weren’t ready to turn in yet. You slipped on your robe and started padding around the halls. The robe was soft and a deep wine red color. You had never had a robe before, let a lone felt the need to use one, but it had come with the job, provided for you like the soap and the toilet paper.

The house was stil dark, still empty. Quiet and still except for the sound of your foot steps, your wet feet sticking slightly to the hard wood floor and pealing off of it with ever step. It didn’t take long for you to get lost, it never did, but you didn’t mind. You just wandered, deaftly poking the bruises on your neck to feel the sting.

Part of the hall way was illuminated by moonlight streaming through a glass door. You looked out and saw a balcony that you had never seen before. You reached out and touched the door nob. Unlocked.

You opened the door and stepped out into the crisp air night, the cold concrete felt good on your feet as the night breese fluttered your still damp hair. It was a full moon tonight. You could see hundreds of starts above you in the sky, the mansion was so far out from the citty that light polution wasn’t a problem.

The stone parapet was thick enough to sit on, so you did, letting your legs dangle over the edge. It was so far down. You noted, then wondered what floor of the house you were even on. Where exactly where you anyway? You kicked you feet back and forth watching them swing above the courtyard.

And when you looked up, the ghost from last night was there. Standing in the air. He gave you a small two-finger salute. Then he spoke

“Hello there.”

#dabi x reader #toya todoroki #toya todoroki x reader #dabi imagine #my hero academia #my hero acadamy #my hero academia imagine #my hero academia head cannon

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jobrookekarev · 3 years

Text

Second Homes

Chapter One of One

Words: 2264

Summary: Link talks to Jo about his plan to move out of Meredith's house with Amelia and Scout and gets her opinion on how Meredith's house can be a good second home before Amelia picks him up from work.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Atticus Lincoln/Amelia Shepherd, Alex Karev/Jo Wilson (Mentioned).

Characters: Atticus Lincoln, Jo Wilson, Amelia Shepherd, and Scout Shepherd Lincoln.

Rating: General Audiences.

Additional Tags: Best Friend Talks, Fluff, Family Fluff.

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: This was inspired by some of the scenes Link, Winston, and Owen this week.

……………………………………………………………………

Link leaned against the wall of the hospital, waiting for Jo as he rechecked his phone. Ever since she started her new OB residency, she had been impossible to get ahold of, and the most he saw of her was when she was darting around the hospital. A blur of pink scrubs, but a smile across her face. It did make it more difficult for him to talk to her and he missed his best friend. Yet, she was happier than he had seen her in a long time, not since, well, since Alex left.

Regardless, he waited for her as he needed some good insight. Jo always seemed to have a listening ear and she always had the best advice. He was about to make a life changing decision and he still wondered if it would be for the best. It felt like it was a good thing, and it seems like it was, and Amelia was on board, and he was still worried. Especially after what Owen told him, but he wanted a second opinion, and since Jo had first-hand experience with someone a part of the sisterhood, he texted her.

“Hey,” Link said, he smiled when he saw her come out the doors of the ER and he put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall.

“Hey,” Jo said, that same brilliant smile across her face as she took off her mask and approached him.

“So before you start gushing to me about your day and all the babies you delivered, I have a question for you?” Link said, knowing that she was about 2 seconds from unloading her baby joy on him.

“Yeah, shoot,” Jo said with a shrug as she looked curiously over at him.

“I want to buy a house with Amelia.”

“Link, that's great! Aw, you really are going to be a suburban dad now,” Jo said with a smile as she put a hand on her chest. “Now, are you going to get a grill and grill every Saturday? Oh, you should get a smoker. Webber smokes something every weekend and Jackson used to bring me the leftovers. It's the best meet ever!”

“I barely know how to cook burgers on the stove. I don't think I'm going to get a grill anytime soon,” Link said with a shake of his head as Jo laughed. “But I talked to Amelia about it and she’s on board, which is good. However, I was talking with Owen, and he said that even though he and Amelia lived together, she was still over at Meredith’s house all the time, and I know that you had mentioned similar things with you know. I just, I don't know. I love the house, and I'm grateful that Meredith lets us stay there, but I want a place of our own, you know. Where I can come home and see Amelia and Scout and have it be just our family. I don't want to be over at Meredith's half the time sleeping in the guest bedroom and stuff.”

“Link, trust me as someone who had seen both your and Amelia's relationship and Owen and Amelia’s relationships, your relationship is completely different. When Owen and Amelia were together, I wasn't surprised when she was over at the house all the time, because that's how things were between the two of them. They were constantly on and off again. However, with things between the two of you, I’d be surprised if you guys made it over every Sunday for waffles. You are committed to Amelia and she is committed to you,” Jo said, tilted her head as she just gave him a slight smile, he could tell that she was happy for him and proud of the family and relationship he had with Amelia.

“I know,” Link said with a nod and smile he was sure of Amelia's commitment to him, even though she had turned down his proposal. “I just, I don't know, what was it like for you and Alex? I know that he and Meredith were best friends and I remember how you said things were in the early days of your relationship.”

Jo got this far-off look in her eyes as she looked away from him for a moment. He knew that bringing it up wouldn't be easy as she still grieved the loss of her marriage and relationship. When she looked back at him, she gave him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

“Even things with Alex and I were different. You know how I had to drag him out of the house so we could have some privacy. I didn't even give Meredith a key until after we got married, but she didn't crawl into your bed like she crawled into ours. When we bought the Loft, Alex and I, we umm, we were in the middle of an argument. It was about the same old thing. That year, it was just a year of fights. It was also the second year after Derek's death, and when Meredith came back after having Ellis, it was just different for us. Back then, Alex chose Meredith over me a lot. I guess in the end, he chose someone else over me. I just wanted him to put me first for once.”

Jo looked away, biting her lip with a shake of her head. He could see the tears collecting her eyes and he reached out to hug her. Jo accepted his hug with a little laugh as she hugged him back. She and Amelia like to call him their teddy bear and they both loved his hugs. He knew that anytime he brought up something about Alex, it always took her a moment to come back. He knew that bringing this up would have been a tough subject for her. Despite how she had brought up Alex a few times in the past few months, they hadn’t talked like this in a while. Just as he was about to tell her to drop it, she looked back up at him as he pulled away.

“It was also good to have our own space where we could be together and alone, but that wasn’t why we had issues. It was something that we had to work out between the two of us. But I know that you aren't moving out for the same reason that I was,” Jo said, looking up at him and tilting her head.

“No,” Link said with a shake of his head. “I’m not trying to get away, I mean, I kind of am but, not from Meredith, just from all the chaos of everyone in the house. I just want my own space where Amelia, and Scout, and I can be a family together.”

“Then honestly, I think it will work for you. I mean, it did kind of work for Alex and I,” Jo said, giving him a nod before she looked down her shoes, kicking her feet against the pavement. “And you know, looking back, it was nice to always have the house open. After Alex left, you know that I stayed at your place and at Meredith’s for a little while. Her house has always been like a second home to me, and growing up with no home, now that I have two, it's nice. I know that whatever happens, I'm always going to have a place to stay at Meredith’s.”

“Thanks, you've given me a lot to think about,” Link said with a nod as he looked down the street, watching the cars drive by. “I still want our own place, our own home, but you're right. It’s good to have a second home. I guess it’s just that growing up between two homes, I know how rough it was having to go between two places, but it's not like that with Meredith’s house. It's a second home, kinda like how the hospital is. It’s not permanent per se, but like you said, it's a safety net, and it's always there if we need it.”

“Well, if you leave, maybe I'll move in?” Jo said with a shrug and a smile. “Levi and Helm have kind of taken over the Loft, and I don’t want to lose it, but it's just. It's not the same without him, and I don't want to live on my own again. This year has been too lonely for that.”

“Well, if you adopt Luna, we could always buy two houses side by side or something, and we could be new parents together,” Link said, raising his eyebrows at her.

Jo just shook her head as she looked away. “I told you I'm not going to adopt Luna. I'm just making sure she gets adopted into a good home.”

“And I told you that you would make an excellent mom and I think you should go for it,” Link said with a shrug as if it was as easy as that.

Jo just down the street and gave a little chuckle, but he had seen the way she acted around the baby, and half the time they talked, she would talk about Luna. He really did hope that she adopted her. Link felt like he had the whole world with his family and career, and he wanted the same joy for Jo.

“How does Amelia feel about this?”

“She's onboard but still a little hesitant, so we're working out the details,” Link said as he thought about it again. “It's all still new to me having to think and make decisions with Amelia. I've never had the kind of partnership that I have with Amelia, you know? Every decision we make, we make it together, even if it's just what to have for dinner. Even though we disagree sometimes, she's just, she's there, and it’s kinda nice. I feel like I can share the load and my life with her.”

Jo smiled for real this time, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him. “Atticus Lincoln in a long-term committed relationship, I thought I’d never see the day.”

“Oh shut up,” Link said, nudging her shoulder before she nudged him back. “Hey, you want to come over for dinner tonight since, as you said, Schmitt and Helm have taken over the loft?”

“Nah, I gotta go over there and remind them who pays the mortgage,” Jo said with a smirk as she took a step back. “But tomorrow, yeah? I need my godchild snuggle time.”

“Sounds good,” Link said, giving her a wave before she walked off.

He thought about it for a moment longer as he leaned against the wall of the hospital. He still wanted their own house. Their own place, for their family. He wanted a backyard where Scout could grow up, climbing trees, and playing on the swing set. He wanted his kid to have his own bedroom and not just a bassinet at the end of their bed. He wanted a nursery where Scout could learn to walk and crawl and talk. He wanted a kitchen where he could cook food, and see Amelia’s smile in the morning, and hear her laugh in the living room. He wanted them all to have their own space where they could be a family.

But Jo was right, Meredith’s place would always be a second home for them, and that was good. If anything ever happened, he wanted Amelia to have a place to go where she felt safe, surrounded by her sisters. More importantly, he wanted that for Scout too. He wanted his son to have a place where he could go, where Link knew that he was safe and loved.

“Hey you,” Amelia said, and he looked up, surprised to see her standing there in a brilliant blue mask with Scout in the stroller.

“Hey, what are you two doing here?” Link said as he pushed off the wall and went over to them. He greeted Amelia with a kiss before he looked down at Scout in the stroller.

“We thought we would come to pick you up today since I know you carpooled with Maggie, and she's not out of surgery yet,” Amelia said, pulling down both of their masks before she leaned in to kiss him.

“Where are the other kids?” Link asked, looking around expecting Zola, Bailey, and Ellis to pop out of nowhere.

“They're enjoying some time with Meredith right now,” Amelia said, turning his head back to look at her with a gentle hand on his chin. “I thought the three of us could enjoy some time together.”

Link smiled as he looked down at his family. He leaned in to kiss Amelia again before he pulled back and reached down to pick up Scout. His son cooed and smiled up at him as Link leaned in to kiss his son's head.

“Since it's not too late, should we go for a little walk by the block and then maybe over to the park and the fountain?” Link asked, settling Scout in one arm and putting the other arm around Amelia.

“That sounds good, even if it’s just around the block in case the park is still closed. I feel like I haven't left the house in months,” Amelia said with a smile as they started walking.

They walked across the street to the park and over to the International Fountain. It was a nice summer day in Seattle and they enjoyed their sunny walk around the park, just the three of them.

……………………………………………………………………

AN: I love the International Fountain I remember playing in it as a child.

#atticus lincoln #jo wilson #amelink #amelia shepherd #scout shepherd lincoln #grey's anatomy #grey's anatomy fanfic #jolex #my work #my writing #my fanfiction

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malexmalereader · 4 years

Text

Jesse McCree x Male!Reader - Confess it, else I'll take it to my grave

A/N: it's here. Part 2 to a oneshot written quite some time ago, requested by @madeofunicorns111813 - sorry it took so long - I also took some liberties with the request, hope it's not too bad either way!

Part 1:

Part 2:

As you slowly open your eyes again, waking from your nap, it's pitch black outside - only a small lantern on the porch spending some light, that illuminates a few more bottles of whiskey and cans of beer standing around the porch swing, mainly where Jesse had sat earlier.

The amount of them made you shake your head in amusement - he must be drunk as balls by now, if he hasn't passed out somewhere else yet.

Now there was no sign of him, not the gentle feeling of his arms around you, no indication where he might be gone - only his scent faintly lingering in the air.

You stretch and sit up straight, taking a deep, content breath.

You check your wristwatch and let out an impressed whistle - you'd slept on that old, only mildly comfortable porch swing from what must've been 10 p.m. to somewhere around two in the morning.

You hear the front door open, Jesse's heavy steps a little uneven as he saunter back over to the porch swing, barely acknowledging you.

In his hand he has a glass of water, sighing deeply before downing it in one go. You fondly watch as he spills just a bit of water, that drips down his beard and stains his shirt.

He sets down the glass and sighs once more, staring of into the vast emptiness of the seemingly never ending fields.

"I reckon, and please take my word on this one - it might just be bedtime for the two of us.", you chuckle as you watch him clumsily trying to get up, setting you swinging ever so slightly.

"You ain't the boss o' me-", he says, a few hiccups interrupting him as he stumbles his way forward.

You roll your eyes and get up as well, offering to be his arm rest and crutch, but instead of throwing an arm over your shoulder he wraps you up in a big hug.

"I'm really glad to be back here-", he slurs, headbutting into your neck with a little more force than he meant to.

You pat his back, letting out another chuckle.

"I know man, I know. You've mentioned it a couple of times.", you calmly state, not too surprised by his emotional outburst - even way back when you were younger he had the habit of getting sappy when he let his guard down - either with the help of alcohol or not.

"Nah, you ain't hearing me Darlin'...", He mumbles against your neck, his beard tickling you, before lazily lifting his head to look into your face.

His right hand finds its way to gently cup your cheek and you feel your face grow a little warmer, as you realize how close he is to you. Granted, you were a little surprised and conflicted about whether it's just the alcohol getting the best of both of you.

But god damn it, if his face didn't look stupidly handsome in the low light of the lantern, making his eyes sparkle as he looks at you with such fondness.

"God, I love you so much…", He says, his voice low as his thumb strokes your cheek.

You swallow harshly, trying to avert your eyes away from him - though you had not completely slept the whiskey from your mind yet, you didn't want to get caught up in something that Jesse might not even mean.

But there was just something so captivating about the way he was looking at you - something you had longed for for almost three decades.

"Y'know, back when we were kids my Ma would tease me 'bout how much I talked about you…", he chuckles as he slurs on "And I'd always tell 'er that she got it all wrong. (Y/N) ain't nothing but a friend, he's just real cool, just my ride or die guy for when times get tough."

A corner of your mouth twitches up into a slight smile at the mention of Jesse's Mother - she was a really sweet lady, always had apple pie ready when you and Jesse came back from a days adventure.

It wasn't until she remarried back when Jesse was 17 that all went downhill.

"But I think she knew I was lyin'. Could see it in her eyes. I bet right now she's looking down at me from the heavens thinking to herself 'told ya so, boy.'", Jesse sighs, pulling you a little closer.

"For the longest time I thought I'd marry you. At some point I would've asked you out, real sweet, had it all planned.", as he keeps talking, you swear his voice is getting weaker and his eyes are getting watery - though you wouldn't bet on it.

You gently stroke his back as he keeps talking.

"I wanted to- I wanted to take you out to sit on that ol' abandoned truck at the very back of my Ma's farm. We would've sat down on the back, under that really ugly lookin' cherry tree. There- there was a meteor shower that night.", His eyes slowly drift away from you as he keeps talking, his hand finding its way down your arm, hesitantly lingering at your fingers.

"I had my whole life figured out - I'd tell you, and you'd tell me that you'd always liked me too, and we'd've kissed under the moonlight and all that. We'd've-", he chuckles slightly "We would've finished school, and gone to prom, and then we'd have gotten jobs and get married…"

He lets out a shaky breath.

"I wanted to- I wanted to have a big, sweet wedding on your Mommas' farm, and then we'd've settled down a little further out - but not too far away from our families. So that when we would have had children they could always celebrate their birthdays with their grandparents an' aunts an' uncles an' cousins."

You sigh and intertwine your fingers with his, bringing the hand that had previously stroked his back to his cheek.

You tenderly wipe a tear away with your thumb, guiding his head back to look at you again.

"I'm- I couldn't. I couldn't tell you. Thought you'd say no... I was too much of a coward. And then- the whole thing with my stepdad happened...Ma told me she was remarrying and I just- I just left- and left you, and her, and he got her and hurt her and I didn't even- I didn't even say goodbye to her I-", he chokes up, lowering his head, his eyes closed as he sobs just the slightest bit.

Unsure of what else to do, you squeeze his hand and wipe some stray hair from his face, encouraging him to look at you again.

He carefully opens his eyes, glancing into yours.

"And yesterday, when I came back you just...you welcomed me with open arms and just- you- I don't deserve you. I don't deserve any of your hospitality and all that…I've- Darlin', I'm the absolute worst.", Tears keeps spilling from his eyes as he rambles on.

You let go of his hand just to wrap your arm around his waist and pull him closer.

"I'm gonna have to disagree with that statement, cowboy.", you smile slightly as his expression changed from sad to slightly confused as you glance at his lips for a short moment, before looking back into his eyes.

His gaze flickers from your own lips, to your eyes and then back to your lips.

And as you pull him closer and closer, until your lips meet for a gentle kiss it feels as though time has stopped in its tracks.

His are slightly chapped, taste like all kinds of alcohol and he still reeks of smoke, but right now you couldn't care less as you close your eyes and melt into the kiss.

You can feel Jesse's shoulders relax as his hands roam around your back and up and down your arms.

And when you part he looks just a little more baffled than before. Though there's also a love struck glaze over his eyes.

"Sweetheart, I- I don't think I understand.", He says, almost breathless, a big, dumb grin on his face.

"And I thought that would get my point across just fine.", you giggle, pressing another soft kiss to his cheek.

"After all this time, I don't think there's a single thing in this world that could make me not love you, Jesse.", you confess.

Jesse's eyes widen and he practically tackles you with another kiss. You don't care about the bottles and cans you knock over with your feet as he makes the two of you stumble back on the porch, back down on the swing.

And it doesn't even bother you when the lantern loses its light - if you were afraid of the dark before, right in this moment it simply didn't matter.

Jesse had you encased in his arms, and by what you could tell, you wouldn't ever have to worry about being alone again.

#jesse mccree #jesse mccree x male reader #jesse mccree x reader #jesse mccree imagine #mccree #mccree x male!reader #overwatch mccree #ow mccree #overwatch x male reader #overwatch x male!reader #overwatch x reader #overwatch imagine #mccree imagine

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alice-in-wonderart · 4 years

Note

I have found your blog and I love it!! Good look with it! Can you do headcanons for pregnancy and post-delivery for the juniors? (I see you write about them, and I don't know which other characters you are comfortable to write for). Thnkx~

I write for right about all characters! The Nies, the Jiangs, the Wens, the Lans, even all of the Jins (except Jin Zixun he can go be mean somewhere else) + Yi City power characters are all characters I write for ✌️ (I may have missed a few names) That aside, thank you so much for reading my stuff! I'm glad you enjoy them ❤️❤️ Aside from having 0 time management skills, running such a blog is so much fun! Here is your request about the Juniors being...well- themselves.

Ouyang Zizhen

You're what now?

OYZZ.exe stopped working.

Then he realised three fundamental truths at the exact same time. (if u get the reference, bless ✌️ )

Once the realization of the situation hit, his eyes watered and a loud, yet emotional whail escaped his lips, before engulfing you in a big hug. He was going to be a dad! You two were going to have a baby. And then realization hit him again.

Shit. He was going to be a father. A father to a baby - his baby. That was a lot of responsibility he was about to take. A lot of work, a lot of sleepless nights, a lot of time and energy. Babies are hard.

And then realization hit him a third time. He was going to have an actual family with you. And you were the mother to his child. YOUR child. He almost couldn't believe it.

Cue OYZZ becoming 70 times more affectionate and careful. You want to go outside? By all means, but let your gentle lover accompany you. Just in case, y'know. You want something sweet? By all means, what kind of sweets does the queen desire? You need new clothes because of the baby bump? By all means, what kind of silk do you want? Colour? Pattern? Style? You want to sleep? 3, 5 or 50 pillows?

OYZZ is a walking panic bomb when it comes to your pregnancy. Conveniently, he also knows how to mostly hide said panic. But you being in pain, having morning sickness and and in general feeling off is not something he signed up for. So, he will dote over you as much as humanly possible.

But then judgement day arrived. And he was out of it. He somehow never considered the fact, that you were going to one day have to give birth to that baby.

You have never seen a more distressed looking man than OYZZ when he finally got the permission to see you. His eyes were puffy, his lips were quivering and he was so pale, he could easily pass for a corpse. It seemed as if he was the one giving birth, not you.

And he immediately dropped to his knees next to your bed, gently taking your hand in his. You were alive. You were alive and argueably healthy and that was what he needed to hear.

But then! In comes the medic, holding your child in pure white blankets, gently letting you take it. And the moment his eyes landed on that baby he knew, that his heart was stolen once more.

"Congratualtions! It's a girl."

Guess who is about to become "Daddy's little princess".

Jin Ling

"Hahahahahhahha. Funny. Oh wait, you're serious?!"

PaniK

What do you mean you're pregnant? When did that happen? When did you learn? How were you sure? Wait, you were how many months in?!

Give him time. It's not, that he isn't happy. He's just panicking like crazy. Of course, once the initial mental breakdown™️ wears off, he'd come up to you and give you the most emotional hug you've ever experienced. He'd hide his face in your hair, as he mumbled into you how incredibly grateful he actually is.

Now, as the Lanling Jin Sect's leader, of course it was expected of him to have an heir, so such news travelled quickly. Immediately this became the gossip of every household and ultimately led to you receiving a metric ton of gifts from all over the place. Jin Ling would also make sure you were living the most lavish, yet healthy lifestyle possible.

The truth is, he was utterly terrified. After all, he grew up without parents, lived only with his uncle and as a result was quite hot-tempered. More than anything, he wanted to be the best dad possible. He wanted his children to grow up in a loving family, with their parents next to them, with a mother to care for them and a father to teach them. And he was afraid whether he was capable of even being a good father. But of course, you knew he was going to be the best father in the world.

Now, speaking of hot-tempered, Jin Ling honestly would throw more hissy fits than you. In fact, he'd get more mood swings than you too. In fact, even when pregnant, you're the calm one. Because if you think he's snappy and over-protective of you usually, wait 'till you see him once he learns you're pregnant. Hoo boy.

He was at work, dealing with the pressures of leading a sect when one of Lanling's servants hurriedly burst into the room, giving him the news that made his tough guy act crumble in seconds - his wife was giving birth.

At the time, he was surrounded by now Sect Leader Lan Sizhui, (idk it's a hc), Nie Huaisang and of course - his uncle, who all ushered him to go see you. Thus, he stormed out, running towards the nursery like his life depended on it.

"What do you mean I can't enter yet, my WIFE is in there." You haven't seen scary until you've seen Jin Ling, amidst an utter mental breakdown, being held down by a few nurses, trying desperately to stop him from going in.

Once they DID let him in, he'd be by your side in 0.001 seconds, only to see you holding not one, but two babies.

"A-Ling, look. They're twins. Say hello to papa, little ones." For once, Jin Ling didn't mind the tears that began falling from his eyes, as he gently held one of his two sons in his embrace. Perhaps, being a father wouldn't be that bad after all. Not with you by his side.

Lan Jingyi

*dramatic gasp*

For once the loud, wild Jingyi was left speechless, unmoving, utterly starstruck by the news. He'd never admit it, but for a while he'd been dreaming of having a family with you. So, when you told him the news, his heart skipped a beat. His dream was coming true.

And then, with the biggest smile on his face, he'd lift you up, carrying you to your now shared room, stating how you shouldn't strain yourself and how he'd take care of everything you need.

"Er-gege, I'm only 3 months in, it's barely noticeable yet, I can take care of myself."

Denial.

Lan Jingyi will be there for you at the cost of right about everything, even if it meant breaking Lan's rules, much to yours and everybody's dismay. Macho man™️ will protect his darling flower. What he wasn't ready for was how complicated pregnancy actually is.

Whenever you're more moody, he'd be quick to anger as well, so small and pointless arguments wouldn't be uncommon. But for every little argument, there is also a sleepless night where he'd cuddle you, whenever your stomach would hurt, or you'd feel uncomfortable.

Now Lan Jingyi is a cool dad. He is a cool dad before he is officially a dad. Whenever you two are alone, lying in bed, he'd lean in to rest a hand on your stomach. And he'd always give a happy yelp whenever he felt his little one move. And gosh, how much he'd talk to the baby. He'd tell your stomach stories of his great adventures, he'd joke around and believe me, he's planned every family outing for next 10 years.

Absolutely everybody thought it was going to be a boy. Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling even bet on it, OYZZ being ABSOLUTELY sure it would be a boy.

Giving birth was a whole new adventure. He'd wake up much too early for his liking with you frantically shaking him awake.

"The baby is coming." "Who's coming?" "The baby." "THE BABY?!"

Cue, Lan Jingyi losing his damn mind. He'd be up and running in a blink of an eye, casually scaring the medics and waking up the entire Cloud Recess in his hurry. Don't run in Cloud Recess? He's not running. He's SPRINTING. Do not shout in Cloud Recess? He's not shouting, he's SCREECHING. Do not speak out of turn? FOR GOD'S SAKE MY BABY IS COMING. And he'd be like that the entire time, until he's allowed to see you. He'll write the rules a thousand times if he has to later. He won't, Lan aren't heartless.

Seeing his healthy little baby, he was right about ready to pass out. He almost didn't hear you joking how your little girl was a loud crier and was about to be just as wild as her dad.

" Wait. It's a girl? We have a little girl!" Cue Ouyang Zizhen screaming in misery, as Jin Ling victoriously smirks his way.

Lan Jingyi on the other hand couldn't have been happier.

Lan Sizhui

QWQ

"This is the best day of my life, I can't believe we're going to have our own family!"

With a bright smile, he'd pull you in for a sweet kiss, shaking with excitement. Honestly, he'd have the best reaction out of all the Juniors. He's a family guy, who gets to witness true love everyday around his fathers, so having a child of his own with you was one of his long-term goals. He was old enough and wise enough to be absolutely ready to embark on an adventure through fatherhood.

Lan Sizhui would be so loving and gentle with you. You'd have him wrapped around your finger, he'd respond to your every beg and call. He'd minimize any work-related travelling to make sure he could be as close to you as possible.

When he wasn't there, he'd assign his cultivation partner and trusty bestie Lan Jingyi to take care of you and look after you. Did you necessarily need it? No. But you understood his worry, so you let him be.

He'd be there for you when you were feeling down, through your mood swings, morning sickness. He never complained, never fought with you, never gave you anything short of his unconditional love.

In fact, he was so SO compassionate, that he'd get pregnancy cravings WITH you. Nothing like the two of you, sitting awake at 2 am, (uncommon for him) eating chocolate-covered cucumbers and apricots.

Similarly to Lan Jingyi, everybody were already 100% sure the two of you would have a little girl. With Sizhui's sweet soft-spoken behavior and big warm heart, having a little gentle flower to spoil rotten seemed like the obvious outcome.

Lan Sizhui, on the other hand, refused to give into all of those "what ifs". Only time could tell. Besides, he'd be just as happy and proud no matter what gender the baby would be.

With his careful planning and skillful avoidance of any travelling, thankfully he was there when the due date was up. On the outside, he remained as calm as physically possible, but oh, on the inside it was a storm. Few could see through his façade, but by the trembling of his fingers, discreet chewing on the inside of his lip and eyes darting all around him, his true feelings came to light.

And when he finally got to see you, you've never seen him more unlike himself. With a worried expression and hasty movements he'd make his way to you, trembling hand reaching out to cup your face. He'd leave a gentle kiss on your forehead, before turning to the newborn in your hands.

"Sizhui. Say hi to your son."

A single tear rolled down his face, carrying the weight of all of his love in it. One look at his child and his heart was pierced by a million arrows. At that very moment he vowed, that he'd protect this child with all he's got, teach him all he knows and love him with all of his heart.

Thank you for reading~

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lizacstuff · 3 years

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Sen Çal Kapımı / Edser Anon asks for Episode 42

Good asks again for this episode and I got very wordy when answering.

Find asks and answers under the cut...

Anonymous asked: Hey, Liza! How did you like the ep? I loved that Eda was the one to tell him the truth and and also liked how they kept us intrigued about who will tell Serkan, Eda or our private investigators Aydan, Engin and co (although they should have gone to Eda first, it's not their secret after all). I wish, of course, that the writers would show us the scene where Serkan was telling Kiraz those sweet things she mentioned to Eda, but I guess it was done on purpose for the dramatic end of the ep. Why do you think Serkan didn't pick up any clues about his daughter? I mean, Ayse always wrote him as a smart guy. Perhaps, he felt that Kiraz is his but was afraid to face the truth? What do you think? I just hope that we hear Serkan's pov in the next ep!! and they taaaaalk!

I did like a lot of things about the episode, but some parts were a bit frustrating to watch. Not frustrating like the amnesia times where I felt sick and just wanted the episode over, nothing like that. I still enjoyed watching and the time moved quickly, but it was frustrating to watch them both be so DENSE.

Serkan. Come on, the obvious is staring him in the face. As you say, he’s a smart dude, so why isn’t he putting this together? And it was frustrating that we still don’t know anything from his perspective. Why is he the way that he is when it comes to children!?!? That is the question. IF (a big if) they go the route of him not thinking he can have children after his treatments that would go a long way to explaining why it never occurs to him that he’s her father. However, we don’t know if they’re going to go that way or not, if they don’t I guess we’re just supposed to believe he’s so distracted by Eda that he can’t see what’s blatantly obvious to everyone else?

What was even more frustrating, though, was that Eda was so obtuse when it came to Serkan Look, from Eda’s perspective I get the notion of wanting to make sure Serkan would be open to a child before telling him. However, the only thing worse than Serkan finding out about Kiraz and outright rejecting her is Serkan finding out and him being angry at what he’s lost and proving Eda wrong by embracing Kiraz as his own. In that scenario Eda has to face how wrong she’s been and how she’s deprived both Serkan and Kiraz (and herself) of a vitally important relationship. That’s A LOT. So I can see why Eda was invested in Option C: the secret remains intact.

So I think in this episode she was seeing what she wanted to see. Or what the worst version of herself wanted to see. Eda is a very good person, but I think she wanted to find reasons not to tell him in order to justify the lies she’s told. Also I think there was part of her that just couldn’t handle hoping that he would want to be a part of their lives. She wanted to shut it down before he could get any further under her skin.

Any way you slice it, though, her unwillingness to see Serkan and Kiraz’s growing bond is a bit selfish. On the other hand she’s not really thinking straight. She has Serkan back in her life, discombobulating her, engaging her heart, confusing her, bringing up all those old powerful feelings. She has Kiraz pining for her father while forming an attachment with a man who happens to be said father. She has Ayfer, Melo, Burak and even Kerem pressuring her in different ways and Ayfer full on judging her. Plus she has Aydan sniffing around.

With all of that I think we can forgive her for not thinking straight, she must be pretty stressed out. However, that still doesn’t really excuse her actions this ep.

Which brings us to her testing him. Seriously? Putting aside the fact that she’s making the man unwittingly prove to her that he deserves to know something that is his unalienable right to know, what was that test? Let me get this straight, when Eda, who is an experienced single mother, has to take an important call she sends Kiraz away, but when Serkan, who is not experienced with children and not used to them, is on an important call he’s supposed to gracefully navigate having a 5-year-old he barely knows climb all over him? And that’s the litmus test for whether he gets to know he’s a father? A test Eda wouldn’t even take herself? WTF?

So bizarre. So Serkan didn’t pass that test, but Eda also either doesn’t see or refuses to see "good” moments. Serkan is at the pool, pretty much at Kiraz’s command, blowing up her floaties, attempting to fix her hair. The guy doesn’t know what’s going on but he’s still willing to sit there and humor this kid and that should have been enough for Eda. Then she walks up when they’re sitting in the garden and it doesn’t occur to her that for quite some time Serkan Bolat has been successfully entertaining a 5-year-old girl he thinks belongs to Melo. When Eda arrives they are seated together, Kiraz is in good spirits, she’s sitting on an extra cushion, which she clearly didn’t get herself, but this very unSerkan-like moment doesn’t count in Serkan’s favor? Could she have ever imagined Serkan spending that kind of time with a random child? Why is this not registering with her! Oh because she doesn’t want it to.

And again at the end of the episode Eda walked up to find Serkan crouching down on Kiraz’s level having a full conversation with their daughter while no one else was around. But that interaction also doesn’t weigh with her?

So what exactly was Eda wanting to see? Is there even a way Serkan could have unwittingly proven himself? Did he need to say, “Golly gee, Eda, I wish Kiraz was our daughter” in order to unlock the secret level that lets him know he’s a father?

And for this nonsense we must blame the writers. They clearly wanted the dramatic 11th hour reveal from Kiraz that Serkan had been bonding with her and for Eda to make the decision at the last minute to turn back and tell him. But her leaving at all was incomprehensible to me. At the point that she decided to go, Piril had told her that Aydan and Engin were onto her and knew that Kiraz was Serkan’s daughter. Her excuse that if she left maybe they’d forget about it? Has the character of Eda ever uttered a dumber line? No seriously? She thinks Aydan is going to figure out she has a granddaughter, that Serkan’s flesh and blood is out there and she’s going to let it go? Engin too? Good grief, Eda is not that clueless to think her moronic plan would work out. This episode asked for a lot of suspension of disbelief, too much when it came to Eda’s actions.

However, I must say running away is entirely in Eda’s character, she’s done that many times. So, having said all that, I do feel for Eda. She’s raised Kiraz as a single mother and done all of this by herself for a long time. And I can only imagine how disheartening it was to have Serkan aggressively pursuing her all episode, but when they have a real moment on the pier after reading the message in a bottle, he immediately dismisses the idea of having children. In light of what was on her mind, I can see why that was devastating to her and made her want to flee.

The thing is there has to be a reason why Serkan is so adamant. He’s now past whatever depression and PTSD he might have been suffering from after the treatments, and he also now knows what it’s like to actually lose Eda and he knows he wants her back... so why is he still so adamant that he doesn’t want children after wanting them before? We are in desperate need of his perspective on this, and I hope both the audience, and Eda, get it. It’s too cruel to her not knowing why and just thinking he hates the idea of kids with her that much.

Thank goodness Eda got to him to tell him before Engin or Aydan. I’m not sure what either one of them thought they were doing, just going to spring the news on him without putting any thought into it, I guess. Yes, they shouldn’t hide it from him, but the reveal can wait until morning until they can figure out a plan to confront Eda and force her hand or whatever else they need to do.

Those final moments were intense, the dramatic effect they were clearly going for was there. It was such a relief to hear Kiraz tell her mother how she had bonded with Serkan and gotten to know him. That girl is smarter than the rest of them combined, I wouldn't be surprised if she knows. Or at least hopes; there’s a reason she’s so attached to him and that she wanted him to be able to find them. However, it would have been much more impactful if we’d actually seen those moments. Either in real time or as flashbacks when Kiraz is talking. I’m not sure why they didn’t do that.

The final scene struck the right emotional chord for such a heavy confession, and I’m very anxious to see what happens next!

Anonymous asked: Hello, Liza:) What are the things you liked most and least in the episode?

Let’s see...

LIKED

Scenery - The visuals of this season are stunning.

Hande & Kerem - They both continue to delivery great performance and their chemistry is always on fire. They transform every scene given to them to a winner. They were particularly good in the bottle scene.

Edser - I watch this show for their scenes and even when there’s a huge lie and secret between them, their scene are always fun to watch. Loved Serkan suddenly playing aloof after the kiss and loved that Eda couldn’t leave him alone.

Kiraz/Maya - What a joy she is to watch. This could have gone so wrong with an overly precocious child, but she’s so cute and she plays so well off not only Hande and Kerem, but everyone she works with.

Kiraz/Serkan - Every second they’re on screen together is wonderful. PS - All I want from this show is after Kiraz finds out is for her to fasten herself to Serkan koala-hug style and just refuse to let go.

The paternity hijinks -I know, I know, there was too much time spent on supporting characters this episode, but there was some funny stuff when it came to Engin, Erdem, Aydan and Seyfi trying to sleuth their way to the truth. I actually found the mistaken toothbrush to be funny. Come on, Engin, you don’t know your own kid’s toothbrush? I also enjoyed the little nod to shattering gender stereotypes. The melodrama of them believing Engin was the father and accusing him of betraying both Piril and Serkan was dumb but hilarious. Then it got even better with the four of them wrestling each other in slow mo to try to get to the lock of hair first... I laughed out loud.

Pina/Kerem - Cuties. Poor things, they’ll also have to overcome meddling relatives, misunderstandings and miscommunication. I also liked Pina figuring out that Serkan is in love with Eda.

Liked... less

Screen time - I felt the lack of Edser screen time this week. We need more Edser! Much more. It feels like they are not taking the opportunity to let their scenes breath. Each interaction is so short. Hopefully, once we’re past the secret keeping portion they can elongate some of their scenes and not always have one of them rushing away.

Production quality - While there were some beautiful shots this episode, there were a few scenes that were lackluster when it comes to the efforts of the crew. The pool scene is one. I get that they probably planned to shoot that outside in Sile, but weather got in the way and they ended up shooting at an interior in Istanbul, but still, the angles were cramped and they did not make the most of having both Hande and Kerem in the water. Plus they cut the shot of Serkan walking towards her, shirtless and smirking. WHY?

Additionally, the camera angles and editing on the fainting scene were pretty subpar. We got a better view of that scene from the fan hiding behind a wall with an iphone! From said fan we can see that the crew would have had plenty of room to move and to get proper angles, but instead we got a 30 second scene where they didn’t make use of the setting, the camera was so zoomed in you couldn’t see anything and still their faces were pretty obscured. Not Altan, Hakan and crew’s best work, that’s for sure.

Eda’s lies, tests and leaving - I chronicled this above, but the show isn’t doing her any favors. I think the writers think they are making her sympathetic (they are to a certain degree) but it’s not enough to justify her behavior. I’m really excited to get past this phase and hopefully to one where she’s not trapped in lies to the people she loves most.

Ayfer - Can she stay in Sile when the action moves back to Istanbul? Or better yet go back to Italy? She is absolutely insufferable and when she was smugly smiling and telling Serkan he’d missed Eda I wanted to slap her across the face. At least Eda finally got tetchy with her when she was continuously pushing her towards Burak. Eda was right! Burak can see that Eda isn’t interested in him, why can’t Ayfer and Melo see it?

Burak - Seriously this dude has the charisma of a paper weight. I still can’t wrap my head around him thinking he has a shot with someone like Eda. And what was his little squirmish with Serkan? Like, dude, you have no idea of the history and dynamics at work, you also have no idea who you’re dealing with, but if you’re going to start something at least see it through. Instead he slinks away after making a few haughty remarks under his breath. Real tough. So far he’s not good enough for Melo, so I don’t know how they’re going to make him interesting enough for her.

Anonymous asked: hi! do you like how Serkan's character shown this season? tbh I expected at least some of his pov explained, not just "we don't need to have kids, Eda," "my work is my only responsibility," etc. As to his "infamous" line in the fragman, I hope it is taken out of context and will lead to a meaningful conversation between EdSer about Serkan's genuine fears (cause c'mon, finding out that you have a 5-year-old kid is kinda overwhelming), but I don't trust writers anymore lol. They keep picturing Serkan as a bad guy. How do you think he will react and act in the next epi?

I don’t think they are depicting him as the bad guy. I mean are you walking away from the episodes thinking he’s the bad guy? I’m not. In the flashbacks, there were some when he was upset and angry and clearly they’ve let us know he’s the reason they separated, but it’s also been clear that there’s more to the story we just haven’t heard it yet.

Agreed that we’re over due for his POV and an explanation of why he did what he did, but I have to assume it’s coming in the next episode. In that episode he’s going to be grappling with a pretty huge thing, he’s just learned a secret that will turn his life upside down. And as anxious as we’ve been to find out why he broke up with Eda, learning he’s a father is probably the perfect time to flashback and tell us why he abruptly decided he didn’t want a family with her all those years ago and set all of this in motion.

There has to be a reason, and I think we’ll find out this week. If we don’t, then the writers will have pushed it too far. However, Ayse answered a tweet a few weeks ago saying that she loved Serkan as much as Eda and that he has reasons too. So fingers crossed we find out what those reasons are sooner rather than later.

Anonymous asked: so I've really tried to remain neutral here because I know they both had their reasons during the breakup but in this last episode, Eda kinda rubbed me the wrong way and while sure it was her right to tell Serkan the secret, I was rooting for Aydan and Engin to do it by the end because she really was about to escape town without saying anything until our sweet Kiraz spilled last minute. I didn't care who told him at that point, I just needed SOMEONE to!

This is an understandable reaction. The writers really did Eda no favors this episode. I guess this episode was her journey to accepting the fact that Serkan is back in her life and will need to know about their daughter. And her daughter deserves to know about Serkan. She’s been living a huge lie for 5 years, so it’s a bit understandable that she’s having trouble letting it go. They just got a little clumsy telling that story.

But we love Eda, we won’t hold it against her, will we?

Anonymous asked: Can we talk about how this 5-yr-old girl is the one who understands Serkan the most? and they just met? and they don't know they're related? she wanted him to find her?!?!! and when Eda tried to tell her that Serkan didn't care about her, she gave the best clapback and defended her dad. 👏 She is the true hero of this love!

She is the true hero of their family! Leaving her shoe for him to find, being able to articulate to her mother how he really did take an interest in her, got to know her, and even confided in her. Smart girl. She was able to see what her mother could or would not.

Kiraz does seem to understand him and his gruffness doesn’t faze her at all, on the contrary she just stands up to him and gives the sass back to him. Like I said last week, he challenges her in a way she’s not used to because all the adults in her life just let her run wild with little discipline or accountability and just give her whatever she wants. But she also challenges him in a big way, and in the next episode I think we’ll see him facing her existence as the biggest challenge of his life.

The scene when Serkan teaches her how to apologize (the irony!) and make amends was especially great. As we saw in the season premiere when Burak was dismissive and haughty with a customer rather than rightly reminding Kiraz to apologize for knocking over Serkan’s water, Kiraz, as I said above, is surrounded by adults that dote, but think she does no wrong so they don’t always model proper behavior. What a relief to see a contrite Kiraz and Serkan being patient and taking the time with her. And the hug! Awwww. “Are we really strangers, Serkan Bolat?” was a perfect line.

Anonymous asked: Heey! What are your thoughts on the fragman? Cause now I'm a bit afraid to watch the next ep... but I think Serkan can be understood; like day ago he told Eda that they didn't need kids, so I guess it would be weird if he was all excited to know that they have a daughter. But idk... I just want Kiraz to have her dad back with her, she wants him so much!!! and the girl is so smart, like I know that is unlikely, but I think she figured it out on her own that Serkan might be her dad! Offf, I love her. I just hope Serkan's "I'm not ready to be a dad" is in the first half of the epi, and then it is him being afraid but doing his best to get close to Kiraz cause we already saw how he liked her. After all, it seems like the end of the epi will be Kiraz's b-day, and Nesli said that the end will be very sweet and emotional.

I think the next episode is Serkan��s story of becoming a father, and by the end of the episode we’ll see him stepping up and accepting his role and hopefully fully embracing it.

We’ll see how he reacts but at some point he obviously says, “I’m not ready to be a father.” I just hope it’s more, “I’m not ready to be a father, so let’s hold off on telling Kiraz for now” and not “I’m not ready to be a father, so I’m planning on ghosting the both of you.” My guess is that scene is maybe midway through the episode? Like maybe he finds out, freaks out, then he decides it’s too much right now, and says that to Eda, but by the end he figures out his business and thus the sweet and emotional ending. I mean what else could a sweet and emotional ending be for an episode about Serkan finding out he’s a father?

We also know from the IG live on premiere day that Kerem was out of sorts and in a bad mood after filming an “intense” scene for this episode, and that Hande’s hair in that live matches her hair in the “I’m not ready to be a father scene.” So that’s either the scene or a scene probably before or after it on the same day, so I think we’ll need to emotionally prepare to be put through the wringer. However, I don’t think there’s anything to fear in watching it. This season’s storyline is about them becoming a family, so just remember that’s what’s going to happen

As for Serkan’s mindset, it’s understandable if at first he feels overwhelmed and not up to the job. This is a man who did not have a good father role model, doesn't think he’s worthy of love, and finding out Eda had their child and didn’t tell him is going to make him think that Eda doesn’t think he’s worthy either. Think of that from his perspective, he might have pushed her away and said he didn’t want children, but she is the one who decided that their daughter would be better off not knowing him. At least that’s how he’s probably going to take her secrecy, and I can’t really blame him for that. That would be a blow to anyone, but Serkan Bolat will take it especially hard. After all she actually loved him and knew him best, so if that person doesn’t think he’s fit, that’s not going to help his confidence or allow him to think he has anything to offer a child.

Obviously he’ll come around and quickly in the scheme of things, it’s just going to take approximately 2 hours for him to do it.

#Sen Çal Kapımı #Sen Cal Kapimi #Edser #sckask #sck episode discussion #edser discussion #asklizac #sck 2x03 #sck 2x42 #anonymous #serkan bolat #eda yıldız

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beerecordings · 3 years

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Marvin’s Cage - Part Four

Anti is getting impatient to see Marvin fall apart. Jackie starts making tough choices of his own. Here’s part one, part two, and part three. Hope you enjoy.

He is, by now, a person used to making difficult decisions.

You have people you love, it means you have to make choices. You make decisions that hurt other people. You do what you have to. And if you have to sacrifice one brother for another, you do what needs to be done.

Because no one else has the strength to do it.

No one but him.

And today – here, now – under the cold fluorescent of the lights – alone, far from home – Marvin the Magnificent has another impossible decisions to make.

He can get him the goldfish or the llamas.

“Yeah, fucking great, Marv,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head and feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him. “I'm sure cute socks will make this all right.”

The bulbous eyes of the little herd of goldfish stare back at him from a blue cotton sea. The llama has glasses on. It admires itself in a mirror, a tie around its neck and a smirk on its face. Jamie will love them.

Or he would have, Marvin supposes, back when they were both pretending Marvin loved him.

He hears himself groan aloud in the shop. It draws attention, but he just ignores it, rubbing his temples.

He unlocks his phone for a second and opens contact name “JB,” staring down at the smiling, frozen image of his older brother in the picture above the name. Below it, his phone prints out the latest text he got from him.

JB: I spotted him in the area last week and you still go out without telling someone where and when you'll be back? Let me know you're safe dude

It's followed by several angry-face emojis. Marvin wishes he could appreciate the attempt at levity.

Just call him. Just ring his number. Tell him everything. Just call Jackie.

He closes out of the contact and clicks on messages.

Marv: I just went for a walk. Home in twenty

JB: can I come meet you?

Marv: Just give me twenty

JB: Marv i'm nervous come on. I feel like he's close let me come meet you

Marvin tucks his phone away, sighing through his nose.

He gets the goldfish and the llamas, packing them into a little plastic grocery bag and grabbing a pack of JJ's favorite candy to boot. Maybe he'll eat something today. Or move at all.

He steps out of the store and pulls open contact name “Herr Dumbass.” Henrik could help JJ get better. Probably. He's not really that kind of doctor, but they make him act like one half the time. He definitely wasn't qualified to be Jackie's chiropractor last week, and yet here their brother is, back on his feet, enduring the back pain instead of being completely debilitated by it. Progress!

His phone buzzes.

Herr Dumbass: Your brother is losing it, Marvin

Marvin scowls.

Marv: Why is he my brother when he's losing it

Herr Dumbass: you're not doing well already, Anti shows up in town, Chase is drinking again, and you run off without telling him where you're going. You're breaking the camel's back here, my friend

Marv: don't 'my friend' me when you're trying to lecture me. I'll be home in twenty. If Jackie can't handle that he needs to be seeing his therapist again

Herr Dumbass: undoubtedly he does. But that appointment is a week away. Right now, he wants to know that his siblings are safe.

Marv: I'm not allowed to go to the store now?

Herr Dumbass: You can and will do what you want, Marvin.

Marv: But?

Herr Dumbass: But what? Stubborn dick

Marvin growls in frustration moments before feeling a small laugh escape his mouth.

“Goddamn you,” he mutters at his phone. But he feels a little better.

Call him.

What, and tell him all this? Everything he's done? Admit it? He'd be so hurt, so angry. So disappointed. Bleck. Marvin can't take that. It makes his hands shake.

But there is one person he can call.

“Hey babyyyyy,” he draws out, picking up the phone on the first ring.

Marvin laughs, clutching the phone to his face. “Amata.”

“Marv, did you get me snacks?”

“What? No.”

“Then why'd you even bother going to the store?”

“Honey, listen, get off Overwatch and go get Jackie before he does something dumb. Put on that claymation he loves so much and make some hot chocolate. He'll calm down in just a minute.”

“But I'm winning!”

Marvin snorts. “I can already hear that you paused it. That's my nice guy.”

“Aw, shucks. Little old me?”

“Stop flirting and come help!” Henrik shouts from somewhere on Chase's end. Marvin laughs and hears Chase laughing with him. He pulls the phone away just to look at his contact picture, an image of Chase making his stupidest, goofiest face. Perfect.

“I love you,” says Marvin. Today, the truth of it makes his voice tremble. “My amata.”

“Love you too, witch bitch. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Well, he called him, but there wasn't any meat to the conversation. Didn't tell him anything worth telling him, not really. Except 'I love you.'

Coward. He's a coward these days. Oh, fuck, what he wouldn't give to feel like he could go to any one of them like this. But this pressure – shit, this pressure that sits on his chest – it's just for him to bear.

Otherwise they wouldn't be safe. They'd let his secret go and he'd kill them.

Marvin has to keep that secret locked away.

But what he wouldn't give for a little rest from the stone on his heart.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Marvin jolts so hard he drops his shopping bag, JJ's Riesen slipping out onto the pavement. Er – no, sorry. The brick. The brick of this alleyway. Where is he?

His eyes raise.

It was day a moment ago. He knows it was. Where did the light go? Instead there is only shadow, cloaked around a slim, dangerous figure perched on the side of the dumpster at the back of the alley. Rats crawl over torn black jeans and death birds crow warnings above his head. A slug moves slowly down the side of Anti's shadowed face.

His green eyes glow in the darkness.

“Anti,” says Marvin, hushed. He is too startled to sound unafraid. “You transported me here.”

Anti tilts his head, blood clinging to his eyelashes. Marvin sees the glitch flicker and Anti, for just a moment, is a screaming, cut-throat Jack, and then he is still again. Just waving his legs and slow circles.

“No,” he says, disinterested. His accent is so thick these days Marvin feels like they may as well have switched right to speaking in Irish. “You just aren't paying attention, alleycat. Walked here. Mumbling about socks and superheroes. Real cute. Can I tell you a secret?”

Marvin pants, glancing around the alley. Behind him, normal life is continuing. People pass by the little alleyway, holding phones to their ears or carrying shopping bags or bouncing little round-faced babies. It is day after all.

He could turn and run. Anti does not make bold plays these days. He's a snake lying in wait. Marvin knows this. Just a scare tactic.

He doesn't run.

“What do you want?”

His voice comes out in a whisper. He doesn't think he has the strength to snipe at him today, blade dulled for any battle of wits. They usually mock each other.

Anti comes to see Jamie perhaps twice a week. Usually, Marvin isn't there, but he'll step into the mirror dimension and find JJ collapsed at odd angles, bleeding from the nose or eyes, or otherwise simply crying for Marvin to stop his big brother from coming to see him anymore, saying he doesn't want to play. Lately, though, Anti's visits have slowed. Maybe they're both getting tired of Jamie's increasing apathy. His growing reticence.

“Focus, now, my pet,” says Anti, tilting his head back the other direction, then right – right, left, right, left, a slow rhythm back and forth. “Can't think about anything but the boy. What'd old Anti tell you would happen, Whiskers?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” says Marvin.

Anti pushes himself off the dumpster, landing on the ground with his hands and feet. He crawls along the ground towards Marvin, form glitching into different places on the alleyway. A snake slinks out of his shirt and slithers away. Anti picks up the shopping bag and then draws himself standing, eyes still glittering like gems on display.

“Chocolate chews and llama clothes,” says Anti, voice evening out the closer he gets to Marvin. His body shifts into the magician's form, the darkness fading away, and he seems to stabilize, pulling a spider out of his mouth and flicking it to the ground. Now he stands before Marvin as a prettier and neater version of himself, almost disturbingly beautiful in a way that makes Marvin's skin crawl. A quick glitch and Anti is filthy with mud and ash once more, blood dried to huge swathes of otherwise moon-white skin, and then, flicker – back to Marvin. He shakes the shopping bag in front of the magician. “Wonder who these are for.”

Marvin snatches the bag away from him, chest heaving. Anti laughs aloud, stepping away again, hands upraised.

“Chill out, kitty cat,” he says, adopting Chase's accent, and he shifts again, wearing a cap and basketball shorts, shoeless in the alleyway and tattooed up and down his arms. “Come on, man, I just want to talk.”

“Don't call me man.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“How about you leave me the hell alone?”

“Come on. Come on.”

He signs it now, eyes going huge and languid, turning blue as his outfit changes to a torn dress shirt and worn slacks. “Talk with me, Marvin, won't you? Won't you talk with me? Can't I have just one hug, just one, just - ”

“Stop!” shouts Marvin, stalking forwards. “Stop it, he doesn't say things like that!”

Anti has vanished again. Shadow curls around Marvin's neck. Something grabs him by the waist and hauls him back towards the dumpster, pinning him bodily against its cold metal. He hollers, but it's cut off just as fast as it started by someone else's beard scratching against his cheek.

“Here's the secret,” says a voice just like Jackie's, strong hands gripping his hips. A vole skitters into Marvin's shirt and he chokes as a mouth presses close to his ear. “I'm getting a little obsessed with you, big brother.”

He doesn't have an answer.

He doesn't want to give one anyway, not one with any meat. Don't let him get a rise out of you. That's what he wants.

Don't be afraid.

“Your creepy forest fairy act is getting a little overdone,” Marvin hisses, tilting his head back to let his mouth close to Anti's skin, the two of them pressed close together.

“I am as I am,” answers Anti, almost distantly. “It's so hard to stay human when master cut me off from him.”

“You slit Jack's fucking throat.”

“I was just curious,” protests Anti, his voice going high-pitched, almost childish. “How would I know what would happen? I was exploring. I was an infant. It is what infants do. When you are curious about something...”

Teeth scrape against Marvin's throat.

“You put it in your mouth.”

Marvin drives his elbow into Anti's stomach and shoves away from him, backing off, hands raised. As he begins to regain his composure, his magic drifts towards his fingers, hot and dangerous. Anti coos like a dove, tilting his head at the sight of it, his eyes lighting up with the colors.

“No wonder JJ cries and cries when I ask questions about you,” he snarls. “I can't imagine the way you've treated him.”

“Him and I did not play games the way you do,” answers Anti calmly. “So I was less cruel.”

“Fuck you.”

“It is the truth of things.”

“What do you want? I know you won't try anything. Not with Jackie close.”

“I like Jackie. He makes me curious the way Jack used to. But not like you, Marvin. Not like you.”

Another rat scurries out of Anti's entourage of shadow. This time, Marvin reaches down to snatch it up, holding it by the tail. He steps close, into Anti's space, and holds the squirming rat up between them, letting it writhe.

“Stop trying to scare me and talk.”

“Be gentle,” protests Anti, voice going weak. “He is just a little boy.”

He reaches tenderly out for the rat, cupping his palms. Marvin hesitates, confused, but the squeaking and squirming of the rat doesn't make him feel any better. A failed power play. He closes his eyes and sighs.

Anti takes the rat from him, holding it in his hands. He purrs and lets it lean in to sniff at his mouth, stroking the back of its head.

“Little man,” he whispers, pressing it to his chest.

Marvin stares at him, taking deep breaths. He's beginning to steady out. Yes, Anti is deadly, cruel, terrifying, monstrous – but he's also just Anti. Bored, clever, inhuman. Playful in a deranged sort of way. He doesn't know his own strength and he never has.

“I've been stalking you most all the time,” says Anti, turning his attention back to Marvin, his eyes gleaming. “No fun watching master sleep. No fun sitting around with JJ. But you... Marvin... mh. I am watching you the way one watches a dying star... waiting for the collapse. And then the explosion.”

“You stay the hell away from me,” warns Marvin. “Jackie will tear you apart, Anti, and you'll go licking your festering wounds just like last time.”

“You stole my birthday present,” pouts Anti. “And you expect me not to find someone else to entertain myself with?”

“JJ was not yours.”

“JJ was from Jack to me, for my birthday, otherwise he would not have made him on my birthday. Jack is just frightened like you – was just frightened like you, before I got a little carried away – so he gave me something to distract me, someone to play with. So you see, that boy was created to be used.”

Marvin shoves Anti's chest, turning to stalk away. He's breathing hard, overwhelmed. He needs to go home. Jackie must be losing it.

“I'm watching, big brother!” calls Anti after him, his eyes flashing red and all the shadows burning away into a vivid crimson glow. “I'm waiting for the day you reach your limit. That day, I won't be bored. I'll watch you implode for as long as you last, dying star. 'Don't call me man,' huh? Silly mortal thing. Birds know the seasons and rats run when storms are coming, but men heed nothing but their own pride. Your own choice will kill you, Marvin, and I, for one, am just drooling for the day that it happens!”

He bursts into wild laughter and the sound floods Marvin's ears, making him clutch at his skull with one hand and JJ's socks with the other. Llamas and goldfish and snakes on his shoes, crows tearing at his hair. He yells and launches himself forward, followed by the sound of Anti's cackling and screaming.

“I'd ask you to give me my birthday present back, but I know you're too stupid. But you wait until the day that master dreams of me again – I'll be waiting to step on your throat the second your brothers find out that you're even more of a monster than I am!”

“No!” shrieks Marvin. “No, no, you leave me alone! Jackie!”

“Sir – sir – hey, he's really not – dude, calm down!”

Hands are gripping at him, Anti's hands on his hips, on his shoulders, on his head. He screams aloud, thrashing as he's held firmly against the ground, as voices raise around him and nails descend on his skin –

“Marvin!”

Familiar hands. Familiar skin, no – not skin. Gloves. The gloves he's known since the day he was created.

“Marvin!”

A loud, firm voice, breaking through all other chaos. Gloves on his cheeks, holding him. He reaches up to grip at them, panting.

“No, I got him, I got him. Thanks for the help, but – no, our brother's a doctor, I just want to get him home. Thanks, yeah. We're fine, thanks. Come here, Marv. Come here.”

“Jackie,” he hears himself croak out. “Jackie. He was here... or... or maybe I just...”

Strong, familiar hands beneath warm gloves pull him aside even as he opens his eyes to dispersing crowds and the quiet of a clean, quiet alleyway to his side.

“Jackie...”

“I know, Marv,” comes his cool voice. “I know. Let's... let's just go home.”

“You turned the location app on on my phone again,” Marvin manages, accusing.

Jackie just holds his shoulders and leads him. “I'm sure you're glad I did now.”

He is. He is. He shudders and leans into his brother's body, letting himself by pulled towards home on a path he has long since lost.

“Do you think he really saw Anti or just...”

“So pale, like so goddamn pale. Like my ass is Irish but he's...”

“So loud, so loud, all of you stop talking. Marv's fine. He says he's fine. If he weren't he'd tell me, I'm sure...”

“Anti has been nearby...”

“Might be hurting him.”

“Drug use, if I...”

“Losing weight, paranoid, self-isolating, I mean...”

Marvin covers his head with his pillow and tries to block them out.

He's been confined to the house for a couple days. Doctor's orders. He's never seen Schneep so simultaneously scolding and concerned. And that's saying something, considering all the times he's found Chase drunk off his ass and having a breakdown at two in the morning.

Marvin sighs, a shuddering sound verging on a sob.

Can't take this anymore.

Maybe he could just give Jamie back to Anti. He'd take him away again. Might try to use his body to hurt the others, yes, but Anti is already a threat whether or not he has JJ. Marvin doesn't keep JJ in that box so Anti can't have him – he keeps him so Jackie can't have him, and then get attached, and then have to lose him, have to fight him, have to kill him. All when Anti inevitably gets his hands on his birthday present again. Inevitably.

“Cause I'm not smart enough to figure out how to protect him without doing this,” grumbles Marvin, shoving yet another grimoire off his bed. “Useless.”

The voices of the others have gone dull upstairs in Henrik's room, quieted by the pillow over his ears.

Can't go to them. Can't go to Anti.

There is one place, though.

There is one person.

Marvin finds himself slipping out of bed. Finds himself standing in front of that mirror. Finds himself lifting up his hand and whispering the password: “I'm not so faraway.”

They used to use it for transportation, back when Jack was in England and they were still in Ireland. Things were kind and easy back then.

He presses through the mirror. The world between worlds is endless and quiet, broken only by a faint scraping.

Marvin moves towards that little puppet box.

“Hey,” he breathes. “Oh, thank God... you're awake.”

JJ turns towards him, overgrown curls falling into his eyes. He's covered in charcoal, his torn dress shirt stained in black. Marvin can't help but smile. His little brother.

“Marvin?” asks JJ uncertainly. “Don't look well.”

Marvin nods weakly, running his fingers through his hair. “I know.”

JJ puts his charcoal down, abandoning the paper he was scratching at. He points at the grocery bag uncertainly.

“Can I come in?” asks Marvin.

Jameson stares, mouth slightly parted.

“JJ?”

“Yes, yes,” he signs quickly, shaking his head out. “Yes, but kind of dirty, sorry, I - ”

Marvin is already unlocking his side door and stepping inside.

JJ stares up at him in awe, blinking. After a moment, his blackened hands reach tentatively up –

Marvin tackles him in a hug.

There's this low squeak of a gasp from JJ, and then they're wrapped up together, entangled in a hug on the floor of that box in Marvin's mirror, rocking each other and pressed close together. They fall onto the mattress and don't let go, locked together like two parts of a key, their foreheads pressed close and their hands digging into each other's ribs and shoulders.

“I'm sorry,” whispers Marvin, kissing at his cheeks and his forehead, soothing at his uncut brown hair. “Do you know that? I – ”

“I know.” A fragile sign, pressed into the space between them. “I know, just don't leave me alone.”

“I won't let you go back to him. I won't. Maybe I'm worse but you will never – never, never – have to go back to Anti.”

JJ cries against his shirt, hiding in his chest.

“I love you.”

Marvin squeezes him against the mattress, slating his starvation to be touched, if only if for a few minutes.

“Not well enough, I know, but I do, I – ”

“I love you too, Marvin,” swears JJ, giving him a weak kiss on the cheek in answer. “You're all that I love. Just don't go. Don't go. I love you.”

And he knows that it's wrong, and he knows that it's convoluted, and he knows that it's Stockholm's –

But for a moment, it clears the debris from his broken heart, and his chest can rise easy.

“I brought you socks with llamas on them,” he adds after a long moment, and when he hears JJ laughing beneath him, he recognizes the sound of his family.

“So what do we do?” asks Chase lowly, sitting on Henrik's bed, staring up at his brothers with big blue eyes. “How do we help?”

“It's his birthday next week,” says Henrik. “We can do all his favorite things. Spoil him rotten. Get him whatever he wants. And then after that...”

“We start really prying,” says Jackie.

His back is turned to them. He stares out the window, eyes flickering with the shadows of the wind rocking the trees. For all that Marvin thought he would be overwhelmed – for all that he often is overwhelmed – right now, he feels calm.

“This has to stop,” he says.

He turns to see Henrik and Chase looking back at him, ready for whatever he asks.

“And it will,” he adds, stepping past them and heading towards his room, leaving them behind. “Before next week is out.”

In the yard, a flash of movement startles both of Marvin's cats, and the great grey mousers go scurrying away from a little white rat.

#disturbing imagery tw #imprisonment tw #marvin's cage #marvin the magnificent #writers of jack #bee writes

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Family Drama.”

I did not sleep in today, and have written you a story.

Warning: there are a few mentions of drugs and addiction, but not a ton

He had never felt so defeated.

As the Taxi door opened, and he stepped out onto the quiet residential street he had to hold back his shame and kept his head high. What would his family think? Should he even tell them? Well of course he should, that wasn’t an option anymore. If he wanted to make them proud he was going to have to make himself ashamed for a little while.

Waffles whimpered at his heels.

He looked down at her with a small smile, “Alright, alright, you’re right, I’ll shut up.”

He rubbed her ears and walked up the concrete stepping forward onto the grass as a group of kids whirred past on hover-skates. They turned upon seeing them, voices suddenly raised pointing and waving at him as they rolled past.

He raised a hand to wave back, but quickly turned to the front door.

There was no way he was ready to interact with people that weren’t his close family.

He walked up the step and held out his implant to the door, it would open when it knew it was him.

The lock clicked, and he reached forward ready to finally relax and let off some steam.

The door clicked open, and he was immediately assaulted by a wave of sound.

“ADDIE!” He was grabbed around the shoulders and pulled into a massive crushing hug. It took his brain way longer than it should have to figure out what was one person, but then again, there was only one person he knew who called him Addie…. Like a fucking dog.

“Uncle Ben?” he grunted

The man set him down on the floor and slapped his back. Below him Waffle growled nervously, but she was ignored, “It's been YEARS. We had no idea you were coming.”

The sound of kids screaming reached his ears and a t least five of them came rushing into the hallway.

“Hey that’s not fair, I wanted to be a pony too!”

“But I was one first, you can pick something else.”

Uncle Ben turned, “Hey everyone! Guess whose back!” His legs swiveled uselessly under himself as he was dragged through the hallway and into the living room, where the entire extended family seemed to be crammed.

He blinked as the group turned into an uproar upon seeing him.

“What is that on his face?”

“Did you really lose a leg?”

“It’s been so long?”

Aunt Marry got up, “Lost all your baby fat finally.” He winced as she grabbed him and pinched his cheek, which wasn’t really for pinching anymore, or honestly had never been, but when he had more of a baby face she had always done that.

“Tell us about space!”

He was shoved onto the couch with Jeremy on one side and Grandma Vir on the other.

Jeremy gave him a look.

He grimaced back as Waffles crawled under his feet resting her head on Jeremy’s shoe.

“Where is dad?” he muttered to Jeremy, and his older brother leaned in to whisper, “where do you think. Hiding in the garage while mom entertains.”

“Coward.” Adam replied with some amusement.

That was just like their dad to avoid all extended family, even his own.

“Wait, wait, everyone calm down, our little Addie is Commander of the UNSC. You all remember when he was just a little guy who used to believe in flying saucers.”

Adam crossed his arms over his chest. Uncle Ben had always made fun of him as a kid.

His grandma looked at him from across the room, “What is that on your face?” She repeated.

He sighed, “An eyepatch grandma.”

“Why are you wearing an eyepatch.”

“Because I lost my eye.” He sighed.

She put a hand to her chest just as his mother came walking into the room, a Trey in one hand an apron tied around her waist and her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She looked more than a little frazzled.

“Martha, why didn’t you tell us he lost an eye!” She sighed, “Because I didn’t want to worry you mom.”

“How is the army still allowing you to command a ship with a missing eye?” Uncle Andy wondered

“He flipped up the eyepatch and the mechanical tech hopped to life nearly freaking out as it tried to track all the faces in one place all at once.

Gasps, “IS that a mechanical eye!”

“Yes.”

His other grandma put a hand over her face, “and he used to have such pretty green eyes. Now look at them, he looks like one of those cyborgs! Did you know some of those people intentionally cut off their limbs to look more like that.”

Martha sighed, “That’s not how it works mom.”

His Mother’s sister waved at him from across the room. He smiled back, he had always liked her, “I love your eyepatch, it looks cool.”

Her husband grinned, “Space pirate.” he nodded sagely.”

Adam tilted his head across the room where he found David and Jordan squished against one wall sitting on the floor Jordan mostly sitting in David’s lap as they tried not to take up any space.

His brother grimaced at him, he grimaced back.

His mother's father leaned forward his steel grey hair and serious face set, “So tell me Adam, what are exactly your duties in the UNSC.”

The entire family rolled their eyes at once, some not even discreetly. He only got involved in conversation if he considered it “useful” and that meant all of the thing other people didn’t want to talk about, money, religion, politics, family history……

“Er, well Uh.”

“After commanding an entire fleet of ships you would think he’d be better at public speaking.” Uncle Trevor announced from where he was hidden behind the piano.

Adam frowned and cleared his throat, “I am fleet commander of fifteen UNSC deep space vessels for both exploration and military combat, but my primary directive is to foster good will with alien races , and save others from destruction, subjugation and slavery while expanding our knowledge of the universe through prolongued deep-space exploration.”

“Ohhhh his directive!” The rest of the family oooooed as well, but it was mostly sarcastic in nature.

His niece, Kimver walked into the room and crawled up to sit with him and Jeremy leaning against both of their arms as she played on her handheld. Kimber’s new obsession seemed to have shifted into vintage gaming. Glancing over her shoulder he could see her throwing tiny white and red balls and strange looking animals and a very pixelated screen.

“Have you met any sexy alien ladies.” Ben butted in

The rest of the family raised their eyes to the sky. Grandma looked almost offended.

“Ben would you stop with that.” His wife muttered from where she sat on a chair in the corner.

“What the whole LFIL thing is legal now, so he totally could have met some sexy alien babes.:

“It’s not a joke Ben, those people had a rough time of it the past few years.” David piped up from the other side of the room.

“Why the GA decided to legalize that behavior is a mystery to me. The world really is getting more wicked.” Grandpa muttered,

Adam clenched his fists, “Actually, Grandpa, I convinced them to lift the ban.”

The room went very quiet very suddenly.

Adam wished he had just shut his mouth.

“You what!”

“Look I spent a lot of time around LFIL members when I was securing the GA hall from protestors. I met a lot of them, and they are just good people who want to be left alone to do what they want. So yes, because of my position I was able to walk into the GA council chambers and convinced them to lift the ban.”

They stared at him.

“But what they are doing is wrong, it’s like bestiality.”

He felt his fists clench, “Grandpa if you ever met an alien you wouldn’t say that. They are sentient being that can consent, and if they can do that than it isn’t bestiality, and also stop calling my friends animals. My ship is staffed by some of the best alien crewmembers I know, and I wont have you comparing them to cattle or dogs or whatever else you want.”

The room went quiet.

Grandpa stepped out in a huff.

HE sighed and leaned his head back against the wall with an audible thud.

His mother walked over and handed him a stack of cookies with a smile on her face that said: Sorry about that.

He took the cookies greatfully shoving one completly into his mouth to avoid saying something else stupid.

“So, does this mean you DID find a sexy alien girl.” Ben wondered and was immediately elbowed in the ribs from two sides producing a grunt of surprise.

“So Jeremy, how long have you two been dating.” Adam looked over Jeremy’s bulk towards where a petite red haired woman with grey eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across her face was squished into the other side of the couch.”

Sensing him looking, she waved a hand with a bright smile, and he waved back.

“Almost a year now.” Jeremy beamed putting his arm around her.

“Should we be expecting an announcement from you two soon?’

Everyone groaned, “Grandma!”

Jeremy’s girlfriend took it like a champ and continued to smile unaffected.

“Speaking of relationships.”

Dear god please descend from heaven and rapture him straight to hell, not that, that's how it worked but anywhere but here would have been great

“Adam, when are you finally going to settle down, how old are you now 25?”

He wondered if he prayed to satan hard enough he could summon a demon to swallow his soul whole.

“I know have you ever even dated anyone”

“Kissed anyone?” “Kissing is fun, you should definitely try it sometime.”

“You're grandmother definitely needs more grandkids.”

Oh the irony, the thought bitterly to himself.

At his feet the dog whimpered.

“You know there is this really pretty girl who works down at the corner store, I think she might do really good for you, a very down to earth girl. You could get promoted into a better paying desk job at the UNSC work 9-5 it would be a dream.”

Jeremy placed a hand on his shoulder, “Actually, Adam is more of an action guy, right Adam/”

Adam gave a weak smile, “Yeah.”

“Oh, he’ll grow out of that, besides you wouldn’t want to put a family under that kind of stress. It’s like you’re never home.”

“Space is my home.” He grumbled

“Don’t be silly, humans weren’t meant for that sort of thing, besides your obsession was cute as a kid, but now that you’re older, you really need to start thinking about the future and having kids before you’re too old.”

He wanted to scream and bash his head against the wall.

“You know what though, how about that cute younger guy that works at the DMV, he looks about your age Adam.”

“I’m not interested in having a family right now!”

The room looked at him quietly, “You asexual or something?” Uncle Ben piped up awkwardly.

Adam felt his face go red, what kind of question was that? No, no uncle Ben I am not horny, or yes, yes uncle Ben I would love to find some hot person to plow just not right now.

And in front of the entire family?

Because he really wanted to have an extended discussion about his sex life with his entire extended family.

Waffles whimpered at his feet.

And then like an angel she descended from the sky to save him, either that or a billowing superhero cape like the saint she was. He couldn’t decide, angel or superhero, but decided on both.

Supermom, and part of her costume is angel wings and a halo.

“Adam why don’t you take waffles outside, she sounds a little nervous. Maybe take her out through the garage?”

He nodded and bolted to his feet like there were rockets firing from his ass, and hurried towards the door with the dog trailing at his heels.

Voices faded behind him, and he quickly hurried through the door and into the garage, where he found his dad sitting with Thomas on a set of lawn chairs drinking cold sodas and watching the clouds pass overhead.

They turned as they heard the door open.

“Adam! We didn’t know you were coming, pull up a chair.”

He did so and unfolded it between the other two men sitting down as Thomas handed him a drink.

“They drive you off too?” Thomas grumbled

Adam looked at his brother. Thomas was looking a little better than usual. His hair was only a little bit scruffy and his scraggly beard was at least trimmed. The tract marks in his arms had faded to pale scars on his arms.

“Yeah, uncle Ben asked about my love life in front of god and all his creatures. You?”

“Rehab. “

“I thought you were out of rehab.”

“I am, which is why I would rather not talk about it.”

“You doing good?”

“Yeah, got a stable job now, so that’s nice, go to meetings twice a week. One more month and I'll be six months sober.”

“Awesome, congrats.” He paused, “You know what, bet I could get you a job as a stuntman if you wanted.”

Thomas laughed, “Maybe I'll take you up on that. Once this job bores me to tears, which it will.”

“Did grandpa bring up LFIL.” Dad asked turning to look up at him

“You know he did.”

“He’s been meaning to ask you. He’s worried that spending so much time up in space has confused you.”

Adam snorted, “Don’t stargaze to long dad, the stars will make you extrial.”

“So that’s what dark matter is.” Thomas muttered and the three of them laughed. Waffles had climbed up on the chair with him and curled up on his legs to fall asleep.

“So what are you doing back here?” Dad wondered, “I thought you had just taken time off.”

He sighed, “Yeah… but things got complicated….” He paused, “Ever feel like no matter what you try to do you keep failing at it.”

Thomas raised a hand “You mean my life.”

More laughter.

Then he got serious again, “Been so stressed lately that I can barely function as a person, has the UNSC questioning whether they should ground me or not. My friends set up an intervention, and it turns out that I am a raging control freak.”

“Could have told you that.”

“You got that from your mother.”

He glanced over at thomas, “What do you mean, could have guessed that?”

He shrugged, “Come on Adam, did you ever do anything you weren't sure you could do properly. Like riding a bike, or swimming, or how you threw a fit if we moved literally anything in your room, or how you had to have everything arranged on your plate before you ate it, or….”

“Yeah yeah ok. But I’m a fighter pilot, that's kind of not-”

“Yeah that is the most control freak job ever. You have to be in so much control that traveling at more than three times the speed of sound won’t kill you. Imagine the amount of control you need to fly in formation without killing everyone.”

“Alright I get it.” He grumbled.

“So what, you try to do everything yourself?” dad grunted

He turned to look at the older man, “how did you know?”

“Every school project you ever worked on in a group, but you just ended up doing the entire thing.”

“I thought that’s just because the other kids were lazy and weren’t going to do their jobs.”

“Or because you wouldn’t let them and they just gave up on trying.” Dad responded

Adam sighed and sunk back against his chair, “I had no idea.”

“Welcome to personal growth, how may we kick you in the balls.”

He sighed, ‘I just, how can I be a leader without losing my identity and becoming boring and stuffy. How can I still… I don’t know, be happy and have fun when I have a job like this…. Or am I just not meant for it.”

Dad waved a hand, “You were born for it, but you need to remember that while, most of the time, you can be friends with the people you work with sometimes you need to stop being their friend and be their commander, which entails doing some things that aren’t so friendly. At the end of the day it is a ship, so you have to make them and allow them to do their jobs, fun comes later.”

“How am I supposed to reduce the stress?”

He glanced at thomas who shook his head, “If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be a recovering heroin addict.”

“You just have to find something you love doing, and then take a little time every day to do that thing which you love. Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

He sighed and looked out at the deepening sky.

He really hoped so

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bibliocratic · 4 years

Text

For @babtest, who asked for the prompt: Martin showing normal, genuine human anger.

Jon/Martin, set in a nebulous post-160 AU. Cws in the tags.

“And if you want me to call – ”

“I know, I'll send a message.”

“And if you don't feel safe, or you want out of there, there doesn't have to be a reason – ”

“Jon.”

“I'll have the phone on me in case – ”

“Jon,” Martin snaps, and his voice is saw-toothed, edged with an irritation that serves as a defensive carapace to his nerves. “It's – it's fine, he's probably not going to be there anyway, this whole thing is going to be a waste, s-so would you please stop fussing, for – ” He releases a grunt of annoyance but tries to muster some calm, breathing with heavy huffing sounds. “I just need... this bloody Christ, this tie – ”

Martin's made a knot-eyed strangle-hold mess of it in his rush, and he tugs angrily at it, making it worse.

“Do you want me to – ?”

“No, I don't! Would you just let me do it! God forbid I be able to do it myself.”

Martin's voice raises to a shout that dips into a hollow of passive aggressive sniping. Jon stills, steps back from where he's been moving into Martin's space and crowding him, and tries not too feel too hurt, pushes down the knee-jerk cutting responses that will neither be helpful or deserved.

Martin tussles with the tie for a few more vicious seconds, his smart shirt having been tucked, untucked and re-tucked again and taking on a rumpled, disturbed pattern. He finally breathes out again, a heavy, weighted breath, closing his eyes. He takes a few calculated, noticeably deeper inhales and exhales that Jon recognises as the deep breathing his therapist taught him. Jon lets him tide through it.

“I'm sorry for snapping,” Martin says lowly, roughly. “I didn't mean – I'm not handling this very well. That's no reason to take it out on you.”

“Considering how many times I was short with you, you probably still have a surplus until we're even close to equal,” Jon replies, trying for levity. Martin wrings the abused tie miserably in his hands, and Jon wishes that this was easier, that this wasn't drawing out all of Martin's embedded poisons, his anxieties he's long laboured to conquer.

“Can you – Will you help? With the tie?” Martin says in a smaller voice, and Jon takes a step into Martin's unhappy orbit, and removes it gently from his hands.

“Of course,” he replies. “If you want to wear it. But you – Martin, you look good without it. And you hate ties.”

The last time he'd worn one was at his mum's funeral, Jon both knows and Knows. He hadn't been able to tie it then either.

“I want – ” Martin says, looking frustrated when the words don't come as easily as he desires. “It looks professional, yeah? Smart? I don't want to look – do I look like I'm, I dunno, trying too hard? It's – huh – it's only a cafe, right, not the bloody Ritz or something – will it, do you think it'll look too desperate?”

Jon touches Martin's arm with his hand. Martin's fidgeting with his shirt sleeves, the buttons at the cuffs, keeps tugging them down like he's worried they're not long enough. He twists and twists and twists his wedding ring and bleeds out nerves like a weather front stagnating in fog, and Jon selfishly wants him to cancel.

“You'll look fine,” he replies. “Smart, and put-together. And I'll think you look handsome, but that's by the by.” That coaxes Martin's lips to twitch. “But you don't... you don't have to wear it, if it's going to... if you're uncomfortable in it. Especially if you think not wearing it will make him disapprove or some nonsense.”

Martin huffs a sound that's the verbal equivalent of a long-suffering eye-roll.

“Spooky mind-reader strikes again, huh.”

“Fear my psychic powers,” Jon dead-pans, and Martin chuffs another one of those aborted half-laughs. Then, quieter, softer. “Want me to help with it?”

“I – I think I'll leave it,” Martin responds finally, with a nod to himself. “It's a Costa anyway, I'm just going to look like a hipster anyway in this shirt.”

“It's that and the beard,” Jon agrees, rubbing his hand at the thick scratchy weave of it until Martin bats his hand away with a 'get off you'. “Do you need your umbrella?”

“ 's only ten minutes down the road, should be alright.”

“You get caught in a downpour, it's your own fault.”

Martin's lips do actually quirk in a smile then, finding the grooves of their light-hearted bickering as a comforting oft-replayed melody.

“Your compassion never ceases to astound me.”

“You didn't have to marry me.”

“Not like any one else was going to do the job.”

“How noble and public-spirited of you.”

Jon kisses Martin's lips briefly, raising himself up on socked tip-toes. Martin's hand slots into his, faintly trembling.

“Whatever you decide, I'll support your decision,” he says in the tight woven space of their bodies. “Even if this isn't what you want, or even if it is.”

Martin nods, and returns a dry, bristly kiss in return before he heads out.

It starts spitting with rain not a minute later.

Jon has not been blessed with an abundance of patience. Martin's meeting is at half two, but he checks his phone at obsessive intervals, watching the screen lighten and the clock on analogue mode work through the grinding seconds. In case Martin's changed his mind. In case he wants out, doesn't want to do this. In case he was stood up, or is sat alone because there was some problem with traffic, or, or, or.

Jon, half-heartedly, tries a great number of things to distract himself, and to avoid any instances of Knowing. After an hour, he's given channel-hopping a go – watching five minutes of a mid-afternoon western, and then ten minutes of a reality show about buying houses on the coast and renovating them. (Martin loves these types of programmes, and in the spirit of them is trying to doggedly renovate the front hall. Meaning that any time Jon wants to go to the front door, he has to pick his way over old blankets thrown down to protect the flooring from paint drips, Martin's small forest of tester pots and paint pots and drying brushes).

Martin's got a window seat – the window misted with condenseness, some child has imprinted a pudgy hand as a calling card – has ordered a mocha – over-sugared, tacky in his mouth, he regrets the choice immediately –

SHUT UP, Jon fumes at himself, and tries to read, manages a few pages before he's struck with the frisson of Martin's spiking anxiety every time the ding of the cafe door pipes up, and stomps into the kitchen to occupy his mind by making himself an unappetizing lunch that he doesn't even want to eat.

His phone remains silent. Jon fights the powerful urge to send a brief check-up message, a little everything going ok? but stops himself. Martin's going to have enough on his plate.

Jon frets and waits for him to come home.

–

There's the plaintive squeak of the front gate (Martin will need to oil it again), and Jon sits up from where he's been petting the cat and poorly playing one of Martin's hand-held console games. He's been on the same level for about an hour now, and stubbornness is preventing him from giving it up as a lost cause.

The pad of two footsteps.

“You've – the flowers are nice. That you've got growing.”

“Thanks. It's not really – it's more Jon than me. He's pretty green-fingered.” The footsteps peter out. “So – er, well, this is me, heh. Close by.”

“Time really flew, huh.”

“Yeah. T-thanks for the, thanks for the coffee – ”

“Don't mention – ”

“ – and for the walk back – ”

“ – You can keep the umbrella, if you – ”

“N-no, it's, it's fine.”

The conversation stalls and splutters like an engine with the wrong fuel. Jon's moved out into the hallway, the cat restless but demanding in his arms, and sees the blurred bulk of Martin's stiff shoulders in the frosted glass pane of their front door, set high like he's shoved his hands into his pockets.

Jon skirts around the paint pots to get nearer.

“So,” the other voice – and it's so similar, strikes the same gulleys and furrows, the stop-and-start of thoughts eking their way out into expression, and it wrong-foots Jon to hear it, the ill-matching echo of it. “I – I'll see you again? If you, that is – I really liked... It was good. To catch up, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Martin says, and he sounds wrung out, straining on some mental rack he's internalised. “It was. Yeah. It was good to see you.”

“You want to do coffee again, sometime?”

“I – er. Maybe. Maybe.”

The first fuzz of hurt creeps to moss over the over-eager nervousness of the other voice. “Oh. Er, yeah. S-sure. That's... it's not a problem. Why, why maybe?”

Martin's hackles go up defensively. “I'm not sure, alright?”

“Was everything ok?”

“I guess relatively?”

“What's that mean?”

“Relatively as in, it's been thirty years, there's a few things to iron out after all that. Hence the, y'know, the maybe.”

“Right,” comes the response. “I am – you know I am trying here.”

Martin's voice goes low and flat and judgemental.

“And how long until you lose interest this time?”

There's a punch of silence. The cat buts against Jon's chin. Through the vague blurring of the glass, Martin shifts in that way of his, when he says something he wishes he hasn't, but he makes no move to take it back.

Half beseeching, half reproachful: “That's not fair, Marty.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

“It's Martin,” Martin replies, blistering with something bubbling to the forefront. “It's Martin, not Marty. I'm not – I'm not a child any more, so you can just – just drop that.” He scoffs a breath, and it's hard and hurt and deliberate. “And no, it wasn't fair. But neither was you leaving. So guess we're equal.”

“I – I tried to explain,” the other man starts, a heat of his own starting to shade indignant.

“And it was bollocks – ”

“It's the truth!”

“It wasn't good enough!”

“Your mother, she was – ”

“She was ill! She was sick and you knew, you knew she was just going to get sicker, and so you cut your losses and you legged it.”

“It wasn't like that – ”

“I was eight!” Martin snarls, and there's no pausing in his words any more, no careful consideration, it's a scatter-gun of words he's had secured in his chest for a long time now. “What the fuck sort of parent leaves an eight year old in that sort of house, with that sort of responsibility? What the hell kind of a life did you think I'd have?!”

“She had – you had aunts and uncles! They were, nearby, they were always cluttering up the house, popping round. I thought – I thought if, when she got really bad, they'd take you in!”

“She cut everyone out! What a stupid – you knew her! She hated anything that felt like pity, she was proud and she didn't want anyone to see her as she got worse. You think she'd have accepted someone implying she couldn't care for her son? No. And eventually it was – it was only us, and you know what, she hated me for it. Because I looked so much like you! Because everything I did, everything I ever did was just a reminder of how much she hated you for leaving.”

“I didn't – ” The response is regret-mired, apologetic, but Martin doesn't want to hear it. “I couldn't have known that...”

“No,” Martin replies, his voice all venom and hurt. “But it's not like you checked, did you? Pop in, see how I was doing. A visit o-or a letter in the post, o-or something! Christ, you didn't even come to the bloody funeral!”

“I.. No one told me! I found out she'd... she'd passed about a month back. I swear, Marty – Martin, sorry. I swear, I didn't know.”

“And now here you are.”

“I wanted to – I wanted to make amends! To be a better, a better father to you.”

“I'm nearly forty, dad,” Martin snipes unkindly, his throat thick. “What makes you think I need you now?” He sniffs, his words damper than he'd like. “Thirty years is a long time to wait to try and play happy families again.”

“Martin, I. Look, I had a lot of problems. Back then. For a long time. I'm not saying them as an excuse – ”

“Then don't say them,” Martin cuts him off. “I don't – I don't want to hear them. I... just. Don't.”

The conversation dies abruptly. There's a horrible, terminal sort of quiet to it.

“I'm going to go,” Martin says, his tone sanded down to quiet exhaustion. “I've got – Jon'll be waiting and I – I can't do this any more.”

“Right,” Kenneth Blackwood replies with an equal tone. “I'm staying, I'm nearby if you want to – I hope to see you again, Martin.”

Martin doesn't reply. Jon has enough warning of the looming shadow in the door to skitter back as Martin uses his key to twist the lock open.

His face is ruddy, splotchy with patches of red. His eyes wet.

“Guess you heard some of that, yeah?” he bites out bitterly on seeing Jon, tugging off his coat.

“Some,” Jon admits honestly, and Martin shakes his head like he's trying to knock something loose, throws his coat over the banister head, pulling off his scarf and balling it up and chucking it in the corner by the door like it's wronged him.

“What a fucking – It was a mistake, I knew I knew it was a bad idea, me and my stupid bloody – playing the bleeding heart idiot again as per fucking usual.”

“Did it, did go badly?” Jon asks, putting the cat down and skirting the edges of Martin's return, watching him pull off his shoes unlaced and slam them into the shoe pile into the corner.

“Absolutely fabulous!” he responds with a false bitter cheer that tinges yellowed and sick. He's not calming down. His hand threading through his hair, his face continuing to redden with an angry heat, eyes welling up. “He's so bloody sincere and apologetic and what the – what am I supposed to do with that now? Where were all his sorries then, where was he when I wanted to hear them?”

Martin plows on, clearly not wanting answers.

“A-and he was so interested, wanted to see our wedding pictures, and kept asking so so many questions like it was a job interview or something – what are you doing? What do you like doing? What are your hobbies? How long have you and Jon been together? – a-and, like, I couldn't help thinking that it's none of his – he wasn't there, he doesn't get to be all friendly like he didn't just walk out. And! And then!” Martin's voice rises to a furious damp crest, throwing his hands about. “Then he wants to share! He had pictures on him and his new wife and new kids – a-and mum, she always, she always said he hadn't wanted a family, hadn't wanted to be a dad, didn't want the responsibility that'd fall on him when she got sick. But he was so happy! So I don't – what am I meant to think of that? I don't know, I mean, was it lies she told me, how much was the truth, and how much did she twist like she did everything else?”

Martin sniffs loudly. “He got married a year after he left mum, and they're still together. His other kids are finishing uni or they've got cushy jobs in the financial district, and h-he was showing me and he sounded so... god, he was so proud of them.” Martin wipes at his eyes. “S-so that's, that's just great.”

“Martin...” Jon starts, despairing, listening to the croak in his voice, the way it keeps catching, the hitching jagged rise of his breathing.

“No. No, don't you get it, it's clear as fucking crystal. Because he wanted a family, yeah, he wanted kids he could dote on and take to the park and play football with. He just didn't want me, did he? And what the hell was s-so wrong with me?! I wasn't – I wasn't a bad kid, I was quiet and I kept out of trouble, and there's no, no reason he couldn't have taken me with him when he left. S-so what was so wrong with me?” Martin's shoulders are starting to shake. “Why – why wasn't I enough for him?”

Jon surges in as Martin bursts into angry bitter tears. Sobbing into Jon's jumper, fisting his hands into the hem of it, repeating snatches of recrimination and confusion over and over. Jon tries to tell him that he's enough, that he's always been enough, that he's so so loved, but Martin can't hear over his own hitching breaths, the sea swell of his grief.

Jon just holds him and waits for the tide to go out.

–

The doorbell rings around nine o'clock, and Jon Knows who's at the door.

Martin stirs under the twisted covers with a questioning noise, but Jon shushes him.

“It's the postman,” he lies. “I'll get it.”

Martin hums.

“Put the kettle on?” he asks sleepily, as though he won't be back snoring in a minute. Jon promises he will regardless, manoeuvring himself out of the heat-packed bed and Martin's loose grip, slipping on his slippers and a shirt.

He opens the door with his most imperious of gazes already set on his face.

Martin is there. Or, a man uncanny in resemblance. He shifts his weight from foot to foot like Martin does, has the same nervous twitch in the flutter of his hands. His skin is more weathered, maybe, has built up a collection of lines Martin hasn't sourced out just yet, a further progression to the receding hairline that's beginning to retreat back at Martin's temples.

“I – um, is Martin in?”

“Yes.”

“Can – would I be able to – ?”

“No,” Jon replies. “He's still asleep.”

It's taken for the denial it's meant to be. Kenneth Blackwood makes an 'oh, right' with the same ringing nervous cast to his movements that Martin had when he first came to the Archives.

“It's...” he starts tentatively, and politely does not have his gaze stray too long on the scars on his hand, his face, his throat. “It's Jon, isn't it?”

“Jonathan Blackwood,” he responds, feeling the odd need to stake the territory here. “I'm Martin's husband.”

“Oh!” Kenneth replies, a little surprised “That's... that's good. I didn't know you took his name when you got.... That's... that's great.”

“It's a good name,” Jon responds, and his father gives a sad, crooked look.

“Not sure Martin would agree with you.”

“It's not my place to comment,” Jon counters, and Kenneth nods and replies with a: “Yeah. No, no, you're right.”

The cat has come up to the door out of curiosity and nudges at the back of his legs before deciding to stay indoors. Jon clears his throat, feeling the nip of early morning under the thin cotton of his nightwear.

“I wanted to – ” Kenneth Blackwood starts. “I wanted to apologise. I didn't keep a cool head yesterday, and he – he deserved my honesty, not my defensiveness.”

Jon gives nothing else, and Kenneth Blackwood continues, clearly grateful for the conversational opening.

“Look, I'm – I have to head back today. I live up near Preston these days. But I hoped – Can I leave my number? I know I shouldn't have pushed so hard. It was a lot to expect. He doesn't...” He makes a half-sigh. “Martin doesn't have to call. I won't contact him again, if that's what he wants. I just – I'm there. If he wants to give me the chance to get to know him again. But if he doesn't.... I understand.”

Jon takes the piece of card offered.

“I'll give it to him,” he says, firmly but not unkindly, and then gives a nod. “Drive back safe, Mr Blackwood.”

He takes it for the dismissal it is meant to be, and he returns the nod. Shoves his hands in his pockets to stave off the chill of the morning as he leaves.

Jon closes the front door with an unobtrusive click, pockets the card he was given. Pauses for a moment, listening to the lull of the house, the rumble of snoring upstairs. Then he makes his way past pots and paintbrushes into the kitchen to make Martin a cup of tea.

#the magnus archives #martin blackwood #fic #prompt #cw parental abandonment #cw emotional abuse #cw intense emotional outbursts #cw poor parent-child relationships #jonmartin #angst #some domestic fluff #this is kinda heavy so if you want me to add more tags #please tell me #i wasn't sure how to word them

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