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katwriteswitcherthings · 1 year

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Title: Vi Moxt Miirik (Chapter Seven - Also on AO3)

Prompt: Wuv: Getting to Know Each Other

Pairing: Geralt & Jaskier

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Summary:

Our favorite lovable Bard is a little more than he let's Geralt know. Follow them through the years as he learns to let down his walls and show Geralt how beautiful he really is.

Chapter Seven

"Geralt! What am I going to do with you?" Jaskier's voice was melodic as he entered the little room Nenneke had let Geralt stay in while he healed. He was smiling, and had his lute and travel pack slung over his shoulders. Geralt grunted and slowly sat up, careful of his still-healing neck and shoulder.

"How did you even find me?" Geralt asked as Jaskier dropped his pack into the corner next to Geralt's things. The bard looked good. Healthy and vibrant in a light lilac ensemble that he looked good in. It suited him, somehow.

"A good friend of a friend in Temeria saw you heading toward Ellander. You told me the temple here would house you if needed." Jaskier said flippantly, and Geralt thought about that. It had been a throw away joke, actually.

Jaskier had asked him once what he would do if he got severely hurt during a hunt. Geralt responded with a bit of dark humor that the priestesses of Melitele in Ellander would give him proper last rites.

"Hm…" Geralt had nothing to say to that. He was caught off guard by Jaskier remembering such a little thing.

"Well, let me see." Jaskier was kneeling in front of Geralt now, off to the side of where his legs were swung over the edge of the bed. His hands were inches away from the bandages.

"You touch those, boy, I'll have your hands." A woman's voice from the doorway barked, making Jaskier jump. Geralt just smirked up at Nenneke. The older woman gave the bard an appraising once over and narrowed her eyes as she considered him. "I've finally got this stubborn mule to leave them be. Don't you dare undo all my hard work."

"Ah. Sorry, Mother Nenneke." Jaskier mumbled.

"And who might you be, then?" She asked as Jaskier stood, backing away quickly. He gave her a pleasant smile and a very large courtly bow.

"Jaskier the Bard, at your service, venerable Mother."

"So you're the one who's been singing those songs about Witchers the last couple years?" Nenneke said as she dropped the couple of books she'd been holding into Geralt's lap. She quickly fussed at the bandage ends, making sure they were still properly wrapped. "Didn't think you could take on such a vibrant travel companion, boy." She said to Geralt, poking him in the shoulder.

"I thought that Geralt deserved an image fix, what with all the nasty names people liked to give him. The White Wolf is so much better than… that." Jaskier huffed at the woman, slightly offended, but Geralt could see the gleam in Nenneke's eyes that meant she was teasing the boy.

"I have to agree there." She said, surprising Geralt with her earnesty. "You're that Pankratz boy Stefania talks about, aren't you?" Jaskier's jaw dropped at that, eyes wide in surprise and shock.

"You… I- Yes. Stefania is one of my aunts. How do you-?"

"She studied here as a girl, and she still visits from time to time." Nenneke cut off the rambled questions easily, and Jaskier could do nothing but nod. Geralt was surprised.

"I didn't realize." He answered, obviously out of his depth and floundering.

"You keep interesting friends, Geralt." She said softly to Geralt with a small smile and soft touch on his shoulder. Geralt just grunted.

"I'm leaving tomorrow, Nenneke. I'm healed enough to get back on the Path." Nenneke raised an eyebrow at him, skeptical.

"Can you even lift your sword yet, Geralt?" Jaskier cut in, frowning at him. "What about turning your head?" Geralt growled a little at him for that. He didn't realize the bard could read him that well. He had been trying to hide that fact from him.

"I'm going to go somewhere safe for the rest of the season. Heal until spring comes." He replied in a grumble.

"Going home so soon? Will Vesemir even be at the keep this early?" Nenneke asked, knowing exactly where he was planning on going. Geralt shrugged and immediately regretted it. He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to hide the wince.

"You've told me the trail up the mountains is dangerous even for you on a good day." Jaskier was radiating concern now, hands fluttering about in a nervous tick that only Geralt seemed to notice. Nenneke raised a questioning eyebrow at that. She knew better. He'd only told the bard that so he wouldn't try to follow him home. "Why not come winter with me? Oxenfurt is an easy ride from here. I've more than enough space in my house, and I'd planned on teaching this semester anyway."

"You teach?" Geralt asked, a little blindsided by that. Jaskier crossed his arms at that, obviously upset.

"I've told you that before. I teach rhetoric some of the winter semesters." Geralt was surprised by that.

"I thought you'd teach music." Jaskier wrinkled his nose in distaste, which was probably more endearing than it had any right to be.

"Melitele's tears, no! I'd fling myself off the roof of the Chancellor's building if I had to teach music to students who didn't truly love it." Nenneke laughed just a little at that.

"Go with him, boy." Nenneke whispered quietly, giving Geralt a small sly smile. "It'd do you some good, being around people for a while."

It was that stern approval from Nenneke that swayed him. Geralt stayed one more night in the temple before they both set off toward Oxenfurt.

"Well?" Jaskier asked nervously as they approached his house. Ever since he had asked Geralt to accompany him home for the winter, he'd been a nervous wreck. Not that he regretted the offer, but he was worried that he had effectively trapped the Witcher in his presence for months on end. After all, Geralt couldn't just run off in the middle of the night once winter had settled in. "What do you think? Three words or less."

"There's a stable." He grumbled out and Jaskier just laughed at his response. Indeed, that was the reason he had chosen to move to this house almost four years ago after meeting Geralt the first time. It was small and set about as far away from the university you could get and not be in the water.

"You'll have to make sure it's in good repair for Roach before we go get her." He said just as they were getting to the door. Letting himself and Geralt inside, he stood back to watch Geralt's face as he took in the house. It was probably nothing like what Geralt was expecting; he just hoped he would be okay living here until Spring. "And I'll need your help getting the spare bedroom set up the way you want it."

"Hm." Geralt grunted as he awkwardly set his bag and swords down in one of the vacant chairs. Jaskier sat his bag down in his favorite chair, the one at his desk in front of the window, before heading into the spare bedroom. It was little more than storage at this point, but there was an extra bed frame here already, propped up out of the way against the wall.

"Oh. We'll need to grab a mattress as well, when we pick up supplies." Jaskier started rambling when he heard Geralt following after him. "How about we head out to dinner after you check out the stables, and we can stop by the market on the way back from getting Roach. We can rent a cart."

"Hm." Geralt just hummed back, but Jaskier could hear the acceptance in it. Jaskier smiled back at his Witcher.

He felt his heart flutter in his chest as Geralt stepped in close to him before he carefully picked up one of the crates of books and stacked it neatly into the corner.

"We can just stack this up out of the way. Don't want to impose any more."

"Nonsense!" Jaskier huffed at him, crossing his arms and scowling. "I invited you, Witcher. You are not an imposition on me, and I want you to be comfortable here!" Geralt ducked his head a little and reached to pick up another box, but Jaskier was watching him now. He saw the little twitch in his face and arm that meant he'd over-reached. "Nope! None of that!" Jaskier flapped his hands at Geralt until he moved away from the box, amusement hiding in the corners of his eyes. "You are to rest, stubborn man. And that means I can move these boxes all on my own." Jaskier waved at the room thematically. "You go check on the stables and make sure Roach will be okay out there when we go get her." He poked Geralt in the chest, but he saw the slight smile tugging at his lips.

Jaskier wanted to kiss them.

"Fine." Geralt relented and turned away.

Oh, Jaskier knew his traitorous heart too well by now. He was falling for his broody Witcher.

#what about the bard #wuv the bard #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #getting to know each other #wintering at Oxenfurt #non human!jaskier #my fanfic

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nectaric · 1 year

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@seaprofound asked: renee, on a scale of 1 to 10, rank any number of your muses on how feral they make you and convince the jury on why they should be feral, too 👀

this is the funniest and best ask i've ever gotten sjdbnfdhbf ok here goes.

20/10 - zeus. misrepresented all the time, painted as an unintelligent, power-hungry, cruel and vindictive f*boy when he is literally everything but. number one hated god by the modern world, when in truth he's so complex and loves mankind and is known for being wise and hospitable and willing to change like ???? make it make sense

10/10 - hades. but in an opposite way to zeus because i think people glorify hades a little too much and they should come back down to earth. he's not an uwu baby misunderstood teddy bear who just wuvs his wife soooo much xx, he's a powerful, independent god who is capable of making bad decisions and hurting people, and he did. lets embrace that shall we

10/10 - demeter. just leave her alone, she is not the villain here my GOD the misogyny just bleeds through. i can't even talk about this or i'll scream

9/10 - mercury. i don't think canon merc is anything to write home about but i've made him mine and he's a very misguided individual who has only ever known abuse and really deserves to know a life without it so he can. maybe be a slightly better person, idk if i'm selling anyone but i go fucking nuts, i love this horrible MAN

honourable mention percy de rolo at an 8/10, its the autism for me

#seaprofound #KJDFNDFD FMD

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archvillain · 2 years

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Kyouraku and Ukitake for the character bingo please! (btw I'm absolutely in love with your Mayuri art)

omg teehee thank you for looking at it -//w//-(\ lessgooooo

starting with the obvious:

they are so cool looking: kyoraku is hot, ok? he's just a handsome guy. he's got everything in the world going for him and i'd probably fall prey to his wiles... i do wish kubo would've made more outfits for him, though, he really looks good in everything

they work better as part of a dynamic: with ukitake, kyoraku is a wonderful character. i looooved the regai filler with the evil gay clones fighting closely in sync and checking in on each other constantly. that being said, while kyoraku can stand on his own as a character, i feel like he just does better with a straight man to riff off...

nothing i like about them is technically canon: ...which is why him letting ukitake slip through his fingers with little fanfare rubs me the wrong fucking way. i get it; kyoraku is a self-sabotaging pity party on two legs at the worst of times, & he's always scummy and a little sneaky, but damn, that would've been an excellent place for fanfare that just got passed up. -_- that was your husband, dude! you just let him die & go to hell! this would be a radically different anime if he was the main character. it'd be a LOT gayer

they are a horrible person: kyoraku's vibes are rancid, almost as bad as isshin's (but not quite). the way he seamlessly blends the trope of "embarrassingly drunk uncle who can chess you under the table" and "creep hitting on you at a bar" in a way that's somehow both charming and loveable... this guy gives me iroh vibes something fierce i wish his backup straight man waifu was not his FUCKING niece however!!! kubo's obsession with fucked up relationships makes bleach so so interesting but the way kyoraku treats her is downright insane. the way that she never even seems to know that he's her uncle... imagine finding out your scumbag man baby of a boss is actually your BLOOD RELATIVE. EUGH

(a lot of this creep factor comes from the extra-canon omake collection from color bleach. the anime goes lighter on it! which is funny, because the anime's filler is MORE incesty with diff characters than the manga in places...)

they're like a blorbo to me: ....i still wuv him tho <3 i hemmed and haw'd about "deeper than they seem" and "not as deep as they seem" but i think all his depth is basically canon text. his depth is actually something i love about him

(climbs up the side of my soapbox with a knife in my teeth) im coming for you jushiro ukitake you son of a BITCH--

they're cool looking: he is so pretty. just getting that out of the way

they got done DIRTY by fans/everybody but me is wrong about them <3: since ukitake is basically what i'd like to call the ambassador of the bastards, the nicest cop in the regime, the poster boy for good boy did nothing wrong. he gets a reputation for being a saint. and that is both in canon and fanon! there's a LOT of angel fluff on this boy, because being the best of the worst still has to count for something? right?

wow! they are a horrible person: AND THEN THERE'S KAIEN'S DEATH. the way that ukitake stakes honor over life, the way that he lets rukia burden herself with the sole ownership of his death to the point that she feels like she deserves death for it... this man is both doing the most and also never ever doing enough. he practically orders kaien's death in the most sinister flashback, and then is never held accountable, leaving rukia to hold herself accountable instead... not to mention the way that he insists on sheltering his underlings & being kind and respectful and honorable, while coexisting like ROYAL GRADE A FREAKS like MAYURI KUROTSUCHI, and seemingly never noticing the blood on the hands of the system he upholds!!!!

wasted potential: this makes him SO INTERESTING. i wish i could crack him open and read his bones like tea leaves. his flaws make him so much more interesting than the candy floss man he tries to present himself as, but then he dies in a really predictable and unhelpful way, which is absolutely fucking tragic, but it doesn't really go anywhere.... gah!!! i have high hopes for this to change in the hell arc, but not... that high

not as deep as they seem/they got too much screen time: in spite of all of this deliciously interesting flawed material sitting seemingly just beneath the surface, ukitake then goes on to become Nice Guy: The Husband for a lot of his appearances. it's like the royal court guard squads are introduced as villains and then becomes the protag cast, and their war crimes are just like... funny. cute. the murders were justified in fact ect. kubo loves the deaths actually. i'm starting to sound like a broken record here: the first arc of the gotei is heinously interesting, but after that bleach loses a lot of steam in general. the blorboification of the gotei did almost every one of them a massive disservice to their complexity, as bleach moved from a story to a serialized performance. i know a lot of this is in fact the pressure of kubo's studio's fault, but it still is tragic

i'm mentally ill about them: ^^^^

they're like a blorbo to me: in spite of all of this i really do like him. he's cute. i like watching him do things on screen even if his flaws got lost in the gotei's move from "flawed military institution we must fight" to "it's fine they were just a little confused we love them now!!". like, what was THAT about

#spoilers for: bleach #i maybe came off as really critical of these two but they are in fact my little guys. little gay guys. i care them really i do

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heartburstings · 2 years

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what r ur guys's headcanons/theories for post-bare? mine is that matt has a sexuality crisis and has a crush on peter and is like, "how soon is too soon" but inflicts catholic guilt upon himself whenever he thinks like that so he just never makes his move, esp bc like. who the hell is he going to go for advice. bc the last advice guy he had made him homophobic so.

and u think this wouldn't be an issue bc like, after they graduate, how much would they see each other actually? but surprise! there's like way too much drama surrounding ivy's pregnancy and what she should do abt it. even tho it's like. nobody's business but yk how ~society~ can be. so the group sticks together and supports her in her decisions, so like, while it's tense bc. matt's there. he's also allowed to be there bc matt's valedictorian (allegedly) straight altar boy status helps them out in reasoning/arguing with whatever rando pta adult takes issue with ivy's decision-making, even when she hasn't made a goddamn decision yet.

speaking of. matt also has "how soon is too soon"-itus with ivy. he's like, well clearly she can't stand to be in the same room w me, but :( i wuv her :( [is repressing his gay realizations]. meanwhile ivy n nadia are eating chips and casually cussing out jason's dad for trying to pressure ivy into keeping the baby as if being the father's father even matters. he's like having 3 different crises in his little chair and everyone else is just chilling and bitching. he's like "how soon is too soon... no. i don't deserve him. not after what i did. and especially not ivy. they all deserve better than me... why am i here..." just brooding in the cvs aisle while peter asks him if he's got cash on him to help pay for ivy's shit bc he's a few bucks short. lucas takes a passing glance at him one day and is like jesus christ dude you need weed so bad and matt's like haha no ty :] i'm a good catholic boy. and lucas is like ok dude but lmk if u change ur mind i'll see u later. and now matt has 1 more thing to brood about even tho he has 0 qualms abt stealing church wine

#wynn speaks #bare: a pop opera #sorry this got long can u tell he's my blorbo. can u tell he's like a pathetic wet-limp hairball to me.#matt steals church wine and is like i hope i get to share it w peter again. as if somehow they will end up dancing even tho everything's #changed and peter is literally grieving his dead bf (whose death matt feels infinite guilt and responsibility for).#he's like well more likely peter will let me know how much he fucking hates me but i remember when we danced.#but i don't deserve him... n i can never tell him...... bc of jason.......#i don't think they hate matt tho. i think they think he's an asshole but they still look out for him.#they're not gonna throw him to the wolves. they're not gonna make him go it alone after everything.#mixed feelings definitely tho.#like nadia knows that matt is forming a crush on peter while also having a crush on ivy and just lets him.#she's like lmao suffer. bitch.#but when someone inevitably accuses matt of being gay himself bc why else would he continue to be friends w and support peter #nadia squares up w them #but she'll never let him know what bisexuality is. matt's gotta learn it from someone else but it'll never be her #u kno what i'm getting at?#the post-bare fic in my mind... it is so bittersweet and everyone is trying to live. live with themselves and with each other.

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dadsbongos · 3 years

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Liebeskummer

Movie/Game/Show: Danganronpa: Killing Harmony Dynamic: Korekiyo Shinguji/Reader (and his sister shit but i actually take it seriously, unlike kodaka) Warnings: korekiyo’s backstory/trauma (his sister), sexual/physical/mental abuse implications (and outright said but not described in detail except the emotional and mental), anxiety in both kork and reader and mental breakdown(s?), airhead shit but it’s sad Summary: It’s all her fault. ~~~

Korekiyo suddenly turned to the girl beside him in his quiet research lab, “Have you ever heard of Jack of Fables, (Y/n)?” at her, albeit confused, nod, he continued, “Well, all those myths, fairy tales, and even nursery rhymes in reference to ‘Jack’ are actually about the same man. What this means is that Jack Be Nimble, of the candlestick, Jack the Giant Killer, who sold his cows then murdered and robbed a giant, Stingy Jack, who tricked the devil so relentlessly that he was banned from both afterlives, Jack of Jack and Jill, who cracked open his skull, Jack o’ Lantern, Spirit of Halloween and Headless Horseman, and Jack Frost, Spirit who ends autumn and begins winter are all one in the same. He made so many poor life decisions that he now serves as an immortal representation of winer with a pumpkin serving as head and flashlight. Is that not fascinating?”

“Aw,” (Y/n) grinned, nodding once again, “Like the American ‘Florida man’.”

Korekiyo sighed, disappointment palpable in his tone, “That is… actually much more accurate than I wish to admit.”

“Wait, wait,” she tilted her head, patting the man’s arm despite his attention already being on her, “So… like, was he also Jack the Ripper…?”

His eyes widened at her statement, “(Y/n), I must be grateful you were not born to the life of a woman of the night in Victorian London because I assure you, Jack the Ripper was incredibly real.”

“Oh, that’s so sad…” she pouted before clearing it back into her usual smile almost instantly, “Well, thanks for the folklore fun fact, Kiyo! I didn’t know that Jack was so dumb! God, I’d hate to be like him…”

“You do realize you’re not so bright yourself, yes?”

She shrugged, “I’m fine with that, but at least I’m not tricking the devil!”

So sweet and kind, the Ultimate Composer was. Against all expectations, she wasn’t highbrow or traditionally genius, but she was more than excellent company. And, to top it off, the idea of turning her into one of Sister’s friends was oddly… sickening.

It should’ve been perfectly fine - she was a deeply respectable young woman unlike Miu and Maki, there’s no reason he could have against her.

It just felt wrong.

“Oh! Oh!” she burst out, clapping her hands together, before turning and reaching into a bag slung around her hip. Rooting through scrapped sheet music and notes, once she found what she’d been searching for she held it up excitedly, “Boom!”

Korekiyo took the item, just barely brushing his wrapped fingertips against hers, “Cleopatra’s Pearl Cocktail… much appreciated,” he pressed the small bottle into a pocket on his uniform, “If you enjoy giving gifts, perhaps we can discuss cultural gift-giving practices?”

“Ooh, Kiyo’s gonna teach me?”

“Hmm,” Korekiyo hummed quietly to himself, “Well, perhaps… you would prefer I tell you of a composition piece in relevance to mythology, yes?”

“That’d be nice,” the girl giggled softly, rubbing the back of her neck, “To be honest, I just like when you talk… you sound so smart all the time!”

“My thanks, (Y/n),” he nodded curtly, muttering to himself before coming to speak up, “Alright, I believe that the composition for you would be The Ring of the Nibelung, of Germany.”

“Oh, I know that one!” she knew most ‘ones’, to be fair.

“I had suspected so, but have you heard of the heroic legends behind the pieces?”

“Ah, no… are those what you’re gonna explain?”

“I had planned to, yes. Alright, well, the four parts, as you know, are The Rhinegold, The Valkyrie, Siegfried, and Twilight of the Gods. Nowadays, they are most commonly played as individual, separate works despite making one complete story. They were always intended as a sequence - as The Ring cycle, cleverly. Each piece revolves on a loose basis to German heroic tales and Norse legendary sagas, with the overarching tale of the magic ring forged by the Nibelung dwarf, Alberich, which grants the power to rule the world,” he paused at the sight of (Y/n) yawning, his lips pursed and eyes shot down to his shoes before flickering back up to the girl, “Ah, my apologies for taking far longer than necessary. You must find this- “

“Ah, no!” (Y/n) shook her head, waving her hands about as though it would physically prove how far from needed his apology was, “That’s not it! I’m just kinda tired, ya know?” as if to prove her point, another yawn washed over her, “I hadn’t slept well last night after Kirumi…”

“I see,” Korekiyo nodded, closing his eyes to think over his words, “I apologize for making it about myself. If you wish, I could walk you to your dormitory. Now that you mention it, it has been quite the long day.”

“You don’t have to, Kiyo, I’d hate to bother you so much in one day let alone one sitting,” the composer puffed her cheeks out, “That’d be so obnoxious…”

“I don’t find it obnoxious whatsoever, especially if it’s to aid- “ he hesitated, “to aid a friend.”

He hadn’t had friends before. People usually found him creepy and that was the end of the story - nobody approached him and he didn’t branch out. Life went on. The world spun. His loneliness was everlasting and yet nonexistent. He has Sister. Though, deep down, he knows. She’s on another plane of reality with loneliness stronger than his, that’s why he sends her respectable young women.

Just like (Y/n).

But just… not (Y/n). For reasons he personally chooses to not disclose to even himself.

“Aww, Kiyo! You care!” the girl placed a hand over her heart as if to show that the organ itself was squeezing in delight at his offer.

“Of course, I do,” Korekiyo didn’t like how quiet she made him. How jittery and nervous. And he didn’t like how it made him question the way Sister made him feel.

She also made him nervous but it felt different. He liked to pretend it was the nervousness of a love you don’t quite have yet, but he fully knows he’d be lying. She was a mean girl, a bully in school before being hospitalized. Prone to violent and outright frightening outbursts when she had the energy to do more than force him to her side.

But he didn’t like questioning those feelings for Sister. Who he was, was based on her. His uniform. His passion and talent. His hair. His perfect complexion. His life as the universe knows it is an ode to her.

It’s too late for him to go back now… he’s already done so much in her name it’d be cruel to give up now. He might as well continue for Sister.

“If you really don’t mind, then yeah, I’d like it if we could walk together… I get a little nervous going around at night, you never know who’s gonna snap…”

“And you trust me?”

Shit. That’s what gets him in trouble. It’s as Sister always said. ‘Too naive to make his choices, and once he’s free, too inept to make the right ones.’

“Well, yeah,” (Y/n) spoke as if there was hardly any thought to the answer, “All you’ve shown me is somebody worth trusting,” then, she’s quick to remember poor Kaede, “Well, maybe I’m being silly. But hey, if I have to choose between dying trusting my friends and paranoid beyond myself, then maybe I’d- “ she paused, “Ehhh, I don’t like the way that’s coming out.”

“I understand what you’re attempting to say,” Korekiyo reassured, turning towards his research lab’s exit, “Let us start towards the dormitories, yes?”

“Right!” (Y/n) nearly found herself jogging to catch up to Korekiyo’s long-strided head start, she clutched the strap of her bag as she did so, “So… you heard about Angie’s plan, right?”

“To perform a resurrection?”

“Do you think it’ll work?” she seemed antsier than was typical for her, “I mean, you’re into anthropology, so, like, has there ever been a case where that did work? Do you know?”

“No, besides, that would be more akin to history, remember?” she probably didn’t, her memory failed her at an ungodly amalgamation of best and worst of times.

“Oh, yeah,” she murmured and nodded, pretending to recall the difference between the two.

“Who would you desire back into this game, if you could?”

“Rantaro,” her answer was quick, her fingers looping together nervously, “We didn’t really talk much, but uhm, whenever we did - he was really nice. He said I reminded him of a sister of his… so that’s a good thing, right?”

Depends on who you ask, really.

“You grew attached to him so quickly?” there was no jealousy there, he tried to convince himself.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I’d gotten to know him more. He was always running around, trying to save us, and in the end… it got him killed.”

A lot of things will get you killed.

Korekiyo shook off the thoughts racking his brain, “Your care for him even through his estrangedness and peculiarity is truly beautiful, (Y/n),” he fiddled with the locket piece hanging around his shoulders, “Even your care for myself. I’d be lying if I’d said it wasn’t endearing.”

“You’re not…” her words died out, not wanting to lie to a dear companion of hers, “You’re a little off-putting but you’re not undeserving of love, Kiyo.”

It was a complete 180 from what Sister had told him his entire life. A new lesson coming in far too late. He had to earn love. He should’ve been crawling on his knees and pleading for affection, but now he was supposed to simply receive it? It sounded so incredibly fake. A fictitious tale told alongside gumdrop fairies and candy trees.

No place for someone of realistic standard.

No place for him.

“You’re far too kind, (Y/n).”

“Maybe you just haven’t known nice people,” she suddenly stopped, slapping a palm to her mouth and muffling against it, “I’m so sorry!”

“Worry not,” Korekiyo continued walking, “I’m unphased.”

Because maybe it was true.

Maybe Sister wasn’t so nice.

There was an itch at his skin in the thought and he shook his head.

Sister was kind enough to love someone like him. Who was of rotted soul and rancid heart.

“I shouldn’t have just said that, especially since I don’t really know your life…”

“Would you like to learn it someday?”

(Y/n) was fairly shocked at how quickly he seemed to breeze by her insult to his family and friends - well, if he had any friends - but she wouldn’t refuse. It was extra time with Korekiyo! Who could turn that down?

“I’d love to.”

“Tea and cookies,” (Y/n) pumped a fist in the air, “What could be better than enjoying those with a friend?”

Korekiyo felt his lips twitch up behind his mask at the rhetorical question, he reached out for his teacup, “Perhaps freedom from this killing game?”

“Oh, yeah, huh…” she deflated, “Jeez, I can’t believe I’d say that…”

Oh, great, of course, now he’s gone and made the local ball of sunshine in this school upset.

“Nevermind that, (Y/n), it was a tease…” he gripped the cup a little tighter, cheeks heating up in humiliation at his failed joke, “I apologize if it seemed like anything other than such.”

“No, don’t apologize, it’s fine! It was kind of a dumb thing to say, now that I put some brain into it,” so it made sense she’d said it, (Y/n) frowned at the bitter thought.

“Ah,” the clink of a cup against the table caught the girl’s attention, “I must change my mask in order to properly enjoy this tea and these cookies,” as the anthropologist went to turn, he was stopped by another outburst from the girl.

“No, don’t! Uh, here!” she clenched her eyes shut, papped her palms over her face, and turned her head downwards, “See? Now I can’t!”

“You don’t have to go to such lengths, I could simply turn- “

“No, no, I want you to feel comfortable and I heard once that doing things to make your friends comfortable is, like, a way to make them like you more?” she huffed at the wording, “Just, I don’t know… I want you to know that I care. Ya get it? No need to turn yourself away like that when I can just not look.”

A tuft of air passed through his nostrils at the girl.

Sister would adore a friend like her.

Korekiyo pulled down his mask, brows drawn tight towards his eyes at the new realization. It was no longer a matter of her being respectable, it was now the knowledge that someone as tender-hearted as (Y/n) would be loved beyond comprehension by Sister.

But… no. Sister couldn’t have her. She’d understand, right? Of course. She could have someone else - the other bubbly girl, what’s her name? Angie. She could have Angie.

Korekiyo just… he just needed (Y/n). Something about her was calming and sweet. He picked his mask for eating from a pocket in his uniform and carefully adjusted it over his lips so as to not smudge his lipstick. It wouldn’t anyway, he knew this, but it usually never backfired to be too sure.

The lipstick in itself was quite the hassle. Another homage to Sister that she might not even be seeing. So was the hair. It got tangled and knotted and was hell to dry after a shower.

“Not to rush you at all, but are you done? Cuz my eyes are starting to hurt… I think I’m squeezing them too hard.”

“Right, yes, I am.”

He really shouldn’t think like that… Sister deserved to be honored.

As if she’d been reading his mind, (Y/n) leaned over slightly, pointing at Korekiyo’s hair, “Hey, hey, how do you manage that? It always looks so silky and soft and well-kept.”

“Ah, well, it is quite troublesome most days, but with patience and rather expensive products, I keep it together.”

“I was wondering, too, do you ever put it up?”

“Not usually, though, that would be… nice on occasion,” he sipped at his tea, enjoying the way (Y/n) shyly glanced away to prove she didn’t want to invade his privacy. She was too delightful to be in a place such as this, even if he did enjoy the beauties of law-absence.

“Uh, I don’t want to come off pushy or like you have to let me, but if you want, I’d love to put your hair up! To be honest, I’ve been wanting to for a while,” her eyes widened at her own statement, “Oh, that sounded creepy. I’m so sorry.”

“I am hardly one to judge,” he reached over for a cookie, “But, if you’re so inclined, I won’t protest.”

“Yay!” she bounced slightly in her chair, “Oh, that’s great, Kiyo, thanks.”

“Shall we go to your dorm after finishing our refreshments?”

“I’d like that,” (Y/n) grinned.

And to think she almost didn’t approach Korekiyo on that first day in the school. How ridiculous could she have been to judge based on looks? Sure, he was a little strange and the way he spoke was unlike any teenager she’d ever met, but he was still a person. He deserved to be given companionship.

Besides, he’d only ever shown her kindness and support.

He didn’t even make fun of her when she said something stupid in front of everyone.

She cringed at the memory of every time Kokichi or Miu or Maki prodded at her. Even Ryoma and Kaito had picked on her when she misspoke during the first trial and just brought up a point the class had already proven. It made her heart wrinkle and shrink at the mere thought. Kokichi still made fun of her for questioning Tsumugi’s whereabouts during Rantaro’s murder.

“You’re staring into your tea, it will grow cold if you only look at it.”

“Oh, yeah,” shaking her head, (Y/n) silently cursed herself for spacing out. What an awful habit of hers, it was, “Sorry for taking so long.”

“You shouldn’t apologize, I’m not upset in the slightest,” he felt his heart lighten at the tiny smile that illuminated her face, “I simply enjoy spending this time together.”

“You’re too nice sometimes, Kiyo,” she giggled, but they both recognized the tingle of nervousness jumbling within it, “If you’re not careful, I might fall for you or something…”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing?”

I wouldn’t mind, she wanted to say.

If you’ll have me, he wished to murmur.

Then he felt his chest tighten.

“Can I…” he tapped a finger to the table, “ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Uhm,” she bit her lip as she thought back, “No… why?”

“How do you think it feels?”

“Like, you could be free and yourself around the person? I’m not too sure, but I think if you and someone else are in love then you’ll accept each other completely, you know? Sure, there’s flaws in every person, but I think you accept those, too.”

“I see…”

“Kiyo, why do you ask?”

“I…” his brows furrowed, “A lot has been on my mind as of late.”

“Alright, I won’t pry,” standing from the dining table, (Y/n) clapped her hands together, “Now, if you’re still down, I’d love to put your hair up!”

“As it stands, I am still, as you put it, ‘down’,” Korekiyo nodded before joining the girl and starting towards her dorm room.

“Nice!” she pointed directly ahead, “Now, onward!”

A total airhead at her truest, Korekiyo thought. He didn’t usually partake in the type, but something about (Y/n) just pulled him in tighter every time he tried turning away.

So, what’s the harm in giving in? Swimming against the tide only ever led to drowning anyway, so why fight it?

Sister… Sister was dead. Is dead. Resurrection isn’t possible and hasn’t been in human history. And she had changed so much of him. (Y/n) would never force him to bend to her ideal.

The more he thought about Sister in comparison to (Y/n), the more he realized that Sister felt like a ball and chain - and (Y/n) felt like a breath of fresh air.

Just her name inside his own head sounded as sweet as the best form of heaven.

“Here we are!” (Y/n) cheered upon their arrival to her room, “There’s probably a bunch-load of unfinished works in here so just… don’t judge them too harshly, okay?”

“I could hardly judge an unfinished masterpiece.”

“I don’t know about masterpieces…”

“If you create them with heart and soul, there’s nobody who can effectively say they aren’t except for yourself,” Korekiyo enters the room after her, legs carrying him towards her desk as she roots around her bathroom for a hairbrush and hair tie, “Sadly, this is also applicable to disasters with effort put into them. However, just from skimming these, I can tell you they are not such disasters.”

“Aw, thanks, Kiyo, you know - I know I’m the Ultimate Composer and junk, but jeez it gets so nerve-wracking when people hear my stuff. I like what I write, but who’s to say other people will?”

“I understand that. Showing others your work is extremely unsettling at times,” he followed the girl to her bed and sat between her knees on the floor, “I recall feeling that way when I would dabble in artistry.”

“You can draw?”

“I would when I was much younger,” he felt her fingers run over his scalp and through his hair and the weight looming over his shoulders practically melted off, “I haven’t held onto any of them, and they’ve likely aged poorly, but I know how I felt showing them around.”

“Why’d you stop? If you don’t mind my asking,” reaching around, (Y/n) threaded her fingers through Korekiyo’s bangs and, as gently as humanly possible, pulled the hair hanging over and around his face back into a slicked style.

“My… sister, she always rathered that I participate in anthropology with her. I wasn’t all that good anyways.”

“Aw, that’s kinda sad. Even if you weren’t good, you could’ve improved over time.”

“Do you truly believe that, (Y/n)?”

“Of course, I mean, talents are just developed over time, right? Angie didn’t pop out of the womb an art genius and I didn’t start off great at writing music, you just keep at it and eventually your skill level is way better than when you started.”

Sister always said he’d be garbage at drawing. Somebody like him could never learn.

She tied off and twisted until the bun was perfect - well, not perfect. It was presentable enough, and it was just a bun anyway! Not like they had anywhere to be.

“Sorry it’s messy,” she scratched at her cheek, feeling anxious that he’d be upset with her work.

“I…” he felt another little smile peek over him, it was indeed messy with stray hairs sticking out here and there and a few tiny bumps running over his head, but even so, “I love it.”

“You do?”

“It’s a gesture from you, why wouldn’t I?”

Standing beside Korekiyo at the mirror, (Y/n) twiddled her thumbs before spewing out her question, “It’s totally cool if not, but can I hug you? Sorry if that’s weird!”

“No… it’s…” Sister never asked to touch him, and now that he thought about it, she never seemed to care when he told her to stop, “That would be wonderful.”

As her arms slowly came around him, he felt truly at ease. With Sister, there was always this fear of never being what she wanted. That she hated him deep down. With (Y/n), it felt like finally being attached to someone you were meant to. Returning to a place of deep affection.

“You truly do care about me, don’t you, (Y/n)?”

“What kind of question is that?” she back-pedals, “I mean, of course, I do. You’re very dear to me, Kiyo.”

Maybe even a little too dear, considering the current climate of the killing game.

But even so, neither of them pulls away. Neither cares enough to wrangle themselves from indulging in the other’s touch. It feels too good against their skin.

It’s then that Korekiyo’s brain strikes the flint to create the burning thought - maybe Sister wasn’t all that great. Maybe Sister didn’t love him.

She’s only ever made him miserable, now that he recalls it all.

(Y/n) doesn’t. She makes him feel human and alive and adored. He likes the way she makes him feel. And between the two, he much rather would be praised than berated.

Oh God, what did this mean again?

Where do the creation myths go?

Who’s Princess Kaguya?

Her head throbs at the thoughts rumbling through her. She tried to get Korekiyo to get someone, anyone, but her to organize his notes.

Shuichi would love this stuff! You two should bond!

Gonta could learn about being gentlemanly from you! It’d be a great learning experience!

I know you don’t like Miu that much, but maybe spending more time together could make you understand each other more?

Anyone.

And yet, Korekiyo denied. He liked spending time with her. He wouldn’t mind answering every question she had - no matter how many times she asked it. He was a patient person, he could handle it.

(Y/n) looked at all the books and stray papers surrounding her alike, bottom lip tugged between her teeth in focus and face beating hot in vivid embarrassment. He wasn’t even looking at her, thank God, but still… it was so mortifying that she’d already lost track of what she was doing.

She tried so hard to pay attention, she really, really did!

She wanted to help so bad. She wanted to be useful so bad.

But she knew… she’s not a smart person, per se. It was beaten over her head repeatedly her entire life by her family, schooling, peers, and even her friends. She was an idiot who couldn’t do anything right.

It’s why she wanted Korekiyo to ask someone else.

But how could she say no to him? He was always so nice, it’d be downright mean to refuse him. Right?

She felt her eyes burn, vision growing blurry through tears. Setting down the papers in her hands - (Y/n) covered her eyes to keep any wetness from splotching the notes below. It was the least a fucking moron could do.

“(Y/n)? Are you feeling okay?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

She nodded shakily, just wanting Korekiyo to ignore her and continue his work. Better yet, he’d kick her out and she could dodge the incoming humiliation altogether.

“Yeah,” her voice cracked, lips trembling.

Goddammit.

She heard papers rustling before she could feel the presence at her side. Fingertips just barely grazing her body before hesitating back, “You’re lying.”

Understatement of the year.

“I just… I’m so sorry, Kiyo. I’m such an idiot, I knew I couldn’t do this,” she whimpered, desperately trying to grab and suffocate down her bubbling sobs before they wracked her throat, “I’m too fucking dumb to do anything right… I’m sorry…”

“No, no, don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong and you’re no idiot,” he’s immediately slammed with every memory of every time he’s called her such a thing. No matter how nice he tried to be about it, he still aided her insecurity, “I’m sorry for ever saying you were. Intellect is not measured by how well you can do a task nor should everyone’s mind be measured the same. Intelligence is fickle and is spread over a vast variety of subjects. You’re not an idiot for not being able to do something you’re not accustomed to.”

“I just… I- I wanted to help you but then I forgot everything you said about organizing them and then which regions are which and what even is a gorgon?”

He chuckled quietly at her question, “A creature in Greek mythology most commonly in reference to three sisters - Medusa, Euryale, and Sthenno - with hair made of living, venomous snakes that turned those who so much as looked upon them to stone,” he glanced around at what (Y/n) had gotten done, “I see that the filing in relation to music is nearly completed for your half.”

“That’s about all I’m good for.”

“And I would not have managed that so easily, music was never an incredible strength of mine - though I do admire it.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kiyo…”

“I would never,” he moved his notes away to sit more comfortably next to the girl, “In fact, if you’d be willing to listen…” his throat tightened and heart thumped in his chest, “I would like to tell you of something that’s been troubling me for quite some time.”

“Yeah,” she wiped away her tears, sniffling, “of course.”

“I told you of my sister, correct?” he waited for her nod of confirmation to continue, “Well, it’s my belief that…” his fists clenched.

What if she didn’t believe him? What if she blamed him? How do you tell someone your older sister raped and abused you when you’re barely even coming to terms with the fact yourself?

“(Y/n), I…” he stopped, gut bunching in knots before he suddenly ripped down his mask and turned to face her, “I think I need help…”

“What? You’re just wearing lipstick, Kiyo, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, no, no, no,” he shook his head, hands shaking wildly as he pulled out the ponytail (Y/n) had done up earlier and yanked through his hair, “E-everything I am is because of her! She consumes me even in death! She- she- she hurt me…”

“Oh,” the girl moved to sit up on her knees, hands reaching out but not yet touching him, “What happened, Kiyo? You can tell me, I’m listening.”

“She told me I was an awful boy, nobody but her could love someone so foul and creepy… she- “ he moved to grip his sleeves, “She touched me,” he looked into the girl’s eyes, “Is it my fault? Am I so disgusting? Why would she do this?”

“Do you want me to hold you or no?” at his shaky nod, she instantly took Korekiyo into a hug, cradling his head and shoulders to her body and stroking through his hair, “You’re more than what she made you. You’re bigger and better than her manipulation. And it’s not your fault she did what she did. It’s completely and totally on her. She took advantage of you, Kiyo, that’s not your fault.”

He grabbed her arm and pressed his face into her shirt as she held him, “Am I rotten? Am I lovable?”

“You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re worthy of love and care.”

His lipstick smeared over her shirt and across his cheek and neither of them minded. It would wash off eventually. Her stain on his life would come out.

“When we get out,” (Y/n) began again, “do you want to seek professional help? You can get it, Kiyo.”

He was slow to nod, beginning to grow tired from dosing out tears and trauma at once, “I do… thank you, (Y/n)...”

“No need to thank me.”

“(Y/n)?” she hummed quietly in acknowledgement, “Even if it isn’t for field work… I wish to travel the country with you. I want to show you the beauty of humanity as I know it… for our sakes.”

Looking down, (Y/n) caught the gentleness in his eyes, tender and soft and awaiting her response, she smiled softly, brushing back his hair, “I would love to, Kiyo. If it’s truly something you want to do, I would be happy to go anywhere with you.”

Nighttime was quickly approaching and with the atmosphere and turmoil of the class, (Y/n) didn’t feel very safe being out so late.

“You’re certain you don’t wish for me to walk you to your room?”

“No, you finish up here,” (Y/n) waved off Korekiyo’s offer, “Don’t be such a worry-wart, yeah? I’ll be fine! You better take care of yourself while I’m gone, though.”

He nodded, a small smile stretching over him, “I will, dear (Y/n), don’t worry.”

The girl’s eyes widened slightly before she returned his beam, “You have a cute smile, Kiyo.”

“Oh,” right, he didn’t have his mask on at the moment. It was refreshing to wake up and not trouble himself with makeup for a woman he wasn’t sure even cared - dare he say it, it was nice, even.

He’d only taken his mask off around (Y/n), it felt intimate. Sweet. Something passed only between them.

“Thank you.”

She nodded before turning back and pressing outward from his research lab, “I’ll see ya tomorrow, Kiyo! You better have the sweetest dreams, ya hear me?”

“You as well.”

He returned to cleaning up his lab, occasionally stumbling over a floorboard looser than the others. How troublesome.

That’s when her voice picked up from within his brain.

“You never loved me.”

He looked around despite knowing exactly where the voice was coming from.

“You let her do this to you. You let her take you from me.”

Pushing past them, he persisted in rooting through his notes and organizing his papers.

“She hates you. She’s scared of you. She’s just trying to be nice. You scare her. You scare all of them. You rotten, rotten boy. You’ve been ruined - only I could love a face so hideous and broken. A horrible, horrible boy lucky enough to be given the love I did.”

His hands shook, fingers twitching and heart thrumming heavy, “No. (Y/n) likes me. She enjoys my company.”

“Why would she enjoy the company of someone so lonely and depressing? So gross and foul? She probably hates you for partaking in your own sister’s touch.”

“No, she- she doesn’t… she knows it’s not… it’s not my fault…”

“Are you inside her head? How do you know? How are you certain? I’m the only one who ever loved you - and you’ve abandoned me. Left me all alone.”

“No, I- I haven’t abandoned you, Sister! Please, believe me, I never abandoned you.”

“So, you know what you must do to prove yourself to me.”

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like that…”

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like you anyway.”

She’s right, right? She’s right. Someone as wonderful and beautiful as (Y/n) could never adore him the way he does her. He loves her and she must find him repulsive. Staying out of fear.

Out of pity for the boy abused by his sister. And so, who better to return to than the more predictable of the two?

(Y/n) may have felt more like coming home than Sister - but Sister was home. (Y/n) was comfort. Sister was familiarity.

He found his foot planted against the loose floorboard once again. He knew how he had to make up for his misdeeds and abandonment.

“I’m truly relieved to see that you got to your room safely,” Korekiyo murmured to (Y/n).

“Huh? Oh yeah,” she pointed over to their local gentle giant, “Gonta and I crossed paths on my way and he wanted to walk me to my room and I just couldn’t say no to him. It’s nice to have someone you trust in this ‘game’. Well, other than you,” the elevator jumbled slightly as it dove down into Monokuma’s makeshift courtroom, “I trust you, obviously.”

She shouldn’t. And he wants to tell her that.

But as Kokichi and Shuichi take glances at him from across the elevator, he knows that she’ll figure things out soon enough.

And, during the trial, when Shuichi’s convicting Korekiyo of the murder of Angie Yonaga and Tenko Chabashira - she does. And she cries and screams and throws a fit. Demanding Korekiyo to fight back harder. Demanding Shuichi to stop lying and get serious. Because Korekiyo would never kill somebody.

He was nice. He was a gentleman. He cared about people. He had stolen her heart - and a man who managed that wouldn’t kill anybody. So, of course, Shuichi was lying.

“Do I have to remind you of what’ll happen if you don’t vote?” Monokuma bit out.

(Y/n) clutched at her hair - she knew what she had to do. But every time she went to vote for Korekiyo, her body wouldn’t let her.

Reaching over, the boy himself took her hand in his, “Allow me,” as he guided her hand over her voting panel. No matter how she swatted at his hand or tried to wrench herself from Korekiyo’s grip, he pressed her vote into his name.

She was forced to watch as he was strung up and spun. Made dizzy and sickly. She was made to watch as he fell into the melting pot. Fires eating at his body until he was no more than spirit.

As Monokuma and the sister who had harmed him so horrifically worked as one to rid the world of his soul.

Eyes went to (Y/n) as the execution subsided. Her sobs and hiccups drawing everyone’s attention.

Gonta was the first to approach, a large hand settling on the girl’s back as she cried, silently taking her into a hug.

Her heart wrenched, fingers squeezing at Gonta’s suit and throat rubbing raw with her wild wails.

He could’ve gotten help. He could’ve gotten out with everyone. If she’d just stayed with him then she could’ve done something. Angie and Tenko would be here. Korekiyo would be here.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Kaito’s voice peeked through, “Don’t cry because he’s gone, (Y/n). Move forward - for both of you.”

“I…” she shook her head, choking on a sob, “I don’t think I can…”

Shuichi placed a hand on Kaito’s shoulder, “Just give her a little time.”

As the group moved out of the courtroom, Gonta stayed by (Y/n)’s side up until she clumsily made her way into her dorm room.

Immediately, she collapsed into her bed sheets. Dreading tomorrow. And the next day. And the one after that. And the one after that. And so on. And so forth. Maybe she should’ve known better than to go around falling for a guy in the killing game. Maybe she should’ve held herself up in her room all alone.

There was no escape from this feeling. No hiding. It may get better over time - but Korekiyo would always be gone.

A buzz at the door caught her attention. Her movements were sluggish, honestly just hoping that whoever was there had given up and left by the time she finally answered.

Shuichi stood there, classically uneven, anxious smile and all, “I think there’s something you might be interested in? If you’ll follow me.”

No verbal response was given, only (Y/n) stepping out of her room and shutting the door behind her to give him her confirmation.

He began towards the casino. With a sigh, (Y/n) was about to tell Shuichi off - she didn’t need to start gambling to get over Korekiyo’s death - until he stopped in front of the building.

“I mostly just wanted you to get some fresh air,” he says earnestly before digging in his pocket and pulling out a key with a heart-shaped handle, “I got this from here. You can get your own or keep this one, I think you need it more than I do,” at her confusion he continues to explain, “It can take you into this weird dream-like state where you can see what ‘ideal’ you play in our classmates’ minds… I think you know who I gave this to you for.”

“Kiyo…”

“Yeah. You can see him again, if you want.”

She wanted to be strong and push the key back into Shuichi’s hand - instead, she just looked between him and the key in her hold and nodded slowly, “Thank you, Shuichi…”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, “Sleep well, (Y/n). I know you can grow past this.”

Because he did.

“I’ll try.”

But he wasn’t her. And Kaede was gone far before Korekiyo. And their grief was not the same.

“Thanks again, Shuichi.”

“Just take your time, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Her knees felt like collapsing under the weight of her nerves, hand falling to the doorknob of the hotel room.

She pushed through her anxiety and found herself in a red-tinted room, a large heart-shaped bed in the center with a merry-go-round circling it. Then, she found Korekiyo standing to the side.

What would his ‘ideal’ version of her be? A friend? An out-of-touch acquaintance? A lover?

Her heart throbbed at the last possibility.

“Ah, my dear, back so soon?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m, uhm, not sure?”

I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.

“Then don’t,” he seemed to glide across the room, taking the girl’s cheeks in his hands, “You’ve always had a problem with that, my love.”

My love? My love.

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” she huffed at her own word selection, “Oh…”

Korekiyo chuckled quietly, pulling down his mask to kiss her forehead, “I already took my medication while you were out.”

“Your medication?”

“Yes, from the doctor. You were the one who pushed me to go, have you forgotten?”

“Right! No, no, I just blanked,” she quickly lied, giving the boy a broad grin, “I’m glad, though.”

“It’s only medication, dear.”

“Still,” (Y/n) reached up to cup Korekiyo’s cheek, “it’s good that you’re following through with your meds.”

“Your support always helps,” he pressed another kiss to the girl’s forehead, “We’ll be leaving early in the morning tomorrow, I should warn you,” at her furrowed brows he explained, “In order for us to catch the first train to Iwate prefecture. Did you forget, darling?”

“Wait, wait, let me guess…” she waited for his nod before tossing out her suggestion, “We’re traveling for field work!” she was then quick to tag on, “As a couple that’s, like, super in love?”

“You didn’t forget at all, my love,” Korekiyo pulled away slightly, and sat on the bed, removing his shoes, “You play that memory of yours down too much. You’re far more intelligent than you think.”

“You think that?”

“Of course, I do. It’s not just because I love you dearly, either. You mustn’t let the words and actions of others control your opinion on yourself - you’re better than they say.”

This is his ultimate fantasy. He’s her lover. They travel and see the beauty of humanity together, just like what he said he wanted. He loves her. He thinks she’s so great.

He’s wrong.

She should’ve stayed with him that night.

He’s wrong.

She could’ve done so much to keep him with her.

He’s dead.

Because she should’ve stayed.

“Kiyo,” her eyes burned and began to soak, “I’m sorry!” her lungs rapidly expanded and contracted with her sporadic breaths, her hands clutching at her shirt. Her knees finally buckled and she collapsed to the ground, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being a stupid, stupid, stupid failure! Please… forgive me…!”

Korekiyo immediately stood up and rushed to (Y/n)’s side, bringing her into a tight hug as she fell to the floor, his fingers running through her hair. He kisses at her temple and cheeks, waiting until her cries settle enough for him to be audible in the room, “It’s interesting, dear, I first realized I’d fallen in love with you in a situation similar as this. I desired to comfort and reassure you just as I do now. You’re not stupid nor a failure, and I adore you above all else.”

Shaking her head, (Y/n) only began to cry harder into Korekiyo’s chest. This could’ve been their future. This could’ve been what they had to share and hold between only each other. If she’d only stayed. If she’d been with him that night.

“Oh, my dear, I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“It wasn’t you,” she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep back her cries, “I- I- it’s all my fault… it’s all my fault…”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, darling,” Korekiyo held her tighter, “I love you, my dearest (Y/n). No matter what you’ve done, I will always forgive you.”

And once again, her tears only came out harder. Her head pounding ruthlessly at the ache and consciousness fading out in her exhaustion. Korekiyo was dead. And no amount of her tears could ever bring him back.

#korekiyo shinguji x reader #korekiyo x reader #shinguji x reader #drv3 x reader #he deserved so much better :(( i wuv him #let me know if i miss anything with the warnings

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 3 years

Text

Hanging Out With the Right People

Prompt: MCD or near-death experience

Relationship: Geralt & Jaskier; Eskel/Geralt/Yennefer; pre-Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer

Rating: M

Warnings: depictions of hanging

Summary: Moments away from being publicly executed, Jaskier can’t help but strike up a conversation with the handsome, white-haired witcher standing on the scaffold next to him. After all, what better way to spend the end of his life than flirting with a good-looking stranger?

But when said good-looking stranger’s two lovers come to their rescue, Jaskier decides to turn his almost-execution into the opportunity of a lifetime.

This is my last whump prompt for @whataboutthebard. All wreck and wuv from here on out! You can read it below or find it here on AO3.

***

“So,” Jaskier asks the attractive stranger standing on the scaffold next to him. “What are you in for?”

It’s just his luck that he would meet the most handsome man he’s ever laid eyes on when he only has minutes left to live. He thinks he could write a thousand odes to the man’s snowy white hair, the chiseled cut of his jaw, his broad shoulders. He already has a tune in his head, but he’s finding it difficult to come up with lyrics that do it justice when there’s a noose around his neck, an executioner at his back, and a crowd baying for his blood.

The white-haired man doesn’t look at him. He looks remarkably bored for someone who’s only minutes from being hung. “Triple homicide.”

“Oh.” Jaskier blinks. “Did they deserve it?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

Well, that’s cryptic. “I’m here for debauchery.”

The stranger snorts. “Fuck the baron’s daughter or something?”

"Ha, if only! Just my luck, to be hung for debauchery the one time I haven't actually debauched anyone." Jaskier laughs, sounding a bit hysterical. “No, it’s who I didn’t fuck that was the problem. The baron wasn’t best pleased when I turned him down and next thing I knew, I was being clapped in irons."

"Hm," the other man says.

Jaskier laughs again, even though nothing is funny. He feels oddly calm after two weeks of utter, mind-numbing terror while he sat in a dungeon, awaiting the letter from his father that he hoped would convince the baron to spare his life. Instead, when the letter arrived, the Earl de Lettenhove stated that he had no son named Julian and that the man in the Baron de Tridest’s custody was an impostor that the baron could do with as he pleased. The way Jaskier sees it, he could spend his last moments weeping and babbling prayers, like three of the five men standing on the scaffold, or he could spend them making conversation with an interesting stranger.

Music starts up and Jaskier twists around to see a wiry, scruffy bard in a hideous hat striking up one of those vicious public execution songs that he’s always hated. And to add insult to injury…

“That’s my lute!” Jaskier jerks at the bonds around his wrists, leaning forward as far as he can without plunging off the scaffold and hanging himself ahead of schedule. It only took him twenty-five years, but he’s finally learned how to wait his turn. “Son of a whore, they stole my lute!”

The white-haired man still isn’t looking at him. “You’re a bard?”

“Julian Alfred Pankratx, Vis—” Jaskier’s voice breaks. He’s no longer the Viscount de Lettenhove; his father has washed his hands of him. “Also known as Jaskier the Bard. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

“Probably not.”

“And who might you be?”

“Nobody important.”

“Ah, I must disagree. As you’re the last person on this mortal plane I’m ever going to make conversation with, your name is quite important to me.” There’s a plea in Jaskier’s voice, much to his embarrassment. They’re reading out the list of charges against the first man— horse theft and poaching.

The white-haired stranger says nothing. There’s the sound of a wooden platform being slid away and then the hideous crunch of a neck breaking, audible even over the horrible song the bard is playing on Jaskier’s lute. Jaskier can’t quite contain his shudder.

“Geralt of Rivia,” the man says quietly.

Jaskier’s eyes go wide and he twists around to look at the man. “Oh, I’ve heard of you! You’re a witcher!”

“Hm.”

“The Butcher of—” At Geralt’s wince, Jaskier chooses a different tactic. “You know, years ago, I was in Posada and I heard word you’d just been passing through, dealing with a grain-stealing devil. I tried to track you down, but I must have just missed you.”

They’re reading out charges against the second man— assault and theft.

Geralt is still facing forward, but looks at Jaskier out of the corner of his eye. “And why would you be trying to track me down?”

“Because I’m a traveling bard and I’m always on the lookout for a new muse.”

“Hm.”

“I suppose I caught up with you too late for storytelling.”

Another slide of wood, a crack. Cheers from the crowd. Jaskier can feel sweat prickling on his palms and forehead.

“Not much of a storyteller anyway,” Geralt says. “You’d like my… uh, Eskel. He’s the storyteller of the two of us.”

“Ah, well maybe I’ll have better luck next time.”

That gets another snort out of Geralt, though there’s no humor in it. “It’s not that bad, you know.”

“What isn’t?”

“Dying. My heart’s stopped a few times. There’s nothing after this. Whatever the Eternal Fire spews about hellfire and demons, it’s all bullshit. It will be like going to sleep. You won’t suffer.”

Jaskier has never believed in hellfire or demons, but he can’t deny that his dreams have been plagued by thoughts of both ever since he learned he was sentenced to death. He lets out a shuddering breath as the third man on the scaffold meets his end. Jaskier didn't even hear the charges against him being read. “Thank you, Geralt.”

Geralt nods, turning to look at Jaskier for the first time. His slit-pupiled eyes are a lovely golden color.

“Geralt of Rivia,” the magistrate says. “For the brutal and senseless murders of three young men, you have hereby been sentenced to hang from the neck until you are dead. I would say may the gods have mercy on your soul, but you’re a witcher. You have no soul.”

Geralt faces forward again, nostrils flaring, as the crowd roars their approval. Jaskier is suddenly seized by the terror he’s been suppressing all day. He doesn’t want to die but he also doesn’t want to watch this man with his golden eyes and enigmatic little smile lose his life. He barely knows Geralt, but something tells him that this man has more soul than all the jackasses braying for his blood combined.

Jaskier opens his mouth. He’s not sure what he’s going to say, but he has to say something in Geralt’s defense.

“Stop!” A man’s voice booms across the crowd.

Jaskier’s head jerks up, heart leaping into his throat. A guardsman wearing the livery of the Baron of Tridest comes galloping through the crowd on horseback, parting the mob. For an instant, Jaskier feels the first swell of hope he’s felt in weeks. His father has changed his mind. He’s written to the baron to ask for his oldest son to be spared. Jaskier is going to live.

“By the order of his lordship the baron, all charges against Geralt of Rivia are hereby dropped,” the guard announces. “He’s to be released immediately.”

A swell of conflicting emotions rises within Jaskier— joy that Geralt gets to live and a kind of numb dread as the hopelessness of his own situation settles in. There’s no last minute rescue coming for him. Jaskier is going to die.

The executioner slips the noose from around Geralt’s neck and unties his wrists and ankles. The guard leaps down from horseback to take Geralt by the arm, as if afraid that Geralt is going to protest his stay of execution. For his part, Geralt’s expression is as bored as it was when there was a noose around his neck, like this is all a mild inconvenience.

“Well, nice chatting with you, Geralt.” Jaskier hates how his voice quavers. “I would say I’d see you around but, well, you know.”

Geralt turns to him, a furrow forming in his brow. Jaskier focuses on those golden eyes. They're a far finer last thing to see than the three corpses hanging from the scaffold, the braying crowd, or the leering bard with his lute.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz,” the magistrate says, recovering himself. “For the crimes of debauchery and disturbing the peace—”

“Fuck,” Geralt growls and seizes the sword from the guard’s belt. Before the man can react, he drives the hilt right into the guard’s temple. As the guard crumples, the executioner shouts and starts forward. Geralt makes a complicated little gesture with his hand and the executioner is blasted backwards into another guard that’s come to assist. Geralt swings his stolen sword, severing the rope around Jaskier’s neck from the scaffold. Then without so much as a moment’s hesitation, he picks Jaskier up, slings him over the shoulder, and leaps down to the ground.

“Geralt!” Jaskier shrieks as spectators begin rushing forward to stop the escape.

“I know!” Geralt says over the clash of steel against steel.

From his position dangling over Geralt’s shoulder like a well-dressed sack of potatoes, Jaskier can’t see much, save for his close-up view of a remarkably lovely, leather-clad bottom. He cranes his head to see Geralt doing his best to fend off the bystanders who are trying to prevent their escape, seemingly doing everything in his power not to kill the civilians rushing at him with pitchforks and clubs. It occurs to Jaskier that the witcher would have a much easier time of it if he were to drop the bard slung over his shoulder, but Geralt seems unwilling to let him be trampled.

Geralt is engaged in combat with what sounds like at least two or three attackers when another man comes rushing at him from behind, pitchfork aimed right at the back of Geralt’s head.

“Geralt, behind you!” Jaskier shouts.

Geralt’s only response is a curse.

Just when Jaskier is convinced that either he or the witcher is going to be impaled on a pitchfork, a broad-shouldered, cloaked figure steps between the charging villager and his quarry. The villager takes one look at the hooded figure’s face and turns tail to run, letting his pitchfork clatter to the ground. The cloaked figure raises their hand and sends a stream of flames at two of the baron’s guards, sending them running after the villager, shrieking in terror.

The newcomer turns and Jaskier’s eyes widen at the sight of a handsome, brown-haired man with the same slit-pupiled eyes as Geralt. “What the fuck, Wolf?” he demands.

“Where’s Yenn?” is Geralt’s only reply.

“Back at the camp. We didn’t think she needed to be here, since you were supposed to just walk away when the baron pardoned your life.”

“Couldn’t let them hang him. Here, catch.”

Jaskier has no warning before he’s sailing through the air, letting out a single, manly shriek of surprise. The newcomer catches him with one arm. Luckily, he doesn’t sling Jaskier over his shoulder, since his armor is spiked, but instead holds Jaskier in some kind of one-armed bridal carry that’s hideously uncomfortable.

“Why, hello,” Jaskier says, because he’s never let an awkward situation stop him from chatting up handsome men. “I’m Jaskier.”

The newcomer arches an eyebrow. “Eskel.”

“Oh, you’re Eskel. I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Have you.”

“Well, there wasn’t time for an in-depth conversation, but Geralt did tell me that you’re quite the storyteller.”

“Huh.” Eskel sends another burst of flame at a group of approaching villagers, sending them scattering. With perfect ease, he tosses Jaskier from one arm to the other and draws his sword.

“Do I weigh anything to you?” Jaskier asks more out of curiosity than anything.

“Not really,” Eskel says. “Angle’s a bit awkward, though.”

“Apologies. Had Geralt taken a second to cut the ropes around my ankles, I could at least stand on my own without getting trampled underfoot. Not that I’m criticizing his rescue efforts, mind you. They were quite heroic.”

“Sure he’ll welcome the feedback.”

There’s a whoosh of air and a portal opens up in front of them. A dark-haired woman wearing an elegant black dress steps through. Looking around at the chaos, she demands, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Hey, Yennefer,” Eskel says.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she asks again. “I bespelled the baron and his guards! All Geralt had to do was walk away.”

“Yeah, he’s not good at that.” Eskel shoves Jaskier at her. “Take him.”

Jaskier goes tumbling face-first into the woman, barely managing to avoid ending up with his face in her cleavage. “Apologies, my lady, I—”

“Who the fuck are you?” she demands.

“Julian Alfred—”

With a muttered expletive, she tosses him through the portal. Jaskier lands on his back with a surprised "oomph" and lies there, staring up at the blue sky. Nearby, three horses are tied to trees, grazing placidly. One, a chestnut mare, looks up and flicks her ears when she sees Jaskier sprawled across the ground, but doesn’t otherwise react. The clearing is silent and peaceful, save for the sounds of shouting and swords clashing coming from the other side of the portal.

And then Geralt, Eskel, and Yennefer come striding through the portal. Well, Yennefer comes striding through, dragging the two witchers with her. “The whole idea of this was to not make it obvious you were escaping,” she tells Geralt, acid dripping from her tone. “The baron would have gone to his grave thinking it was his decision to spare you. There wasn't supposed to be a brawl.”

“Things got complicated.”

“Don’t they always?”

For the first time, Jaskier notices that Geralt is holding his lute. He cries out in delight. “Thank you! I didn’t think I’d ever see her again. She deserves so much better than that idiot of a minstrel who dared lay a hand on her. Now, could someone please untie me so I can be reunited with her properly?”

Still looking faintly bemused, Eskel bends to cut through the ropes around Jaskier wrists and ankles. Jaskier bounces to his feet to take his lute from Geralt’s hands, checking it over for scratches. To his relief, it's unharmed. The idiot minstrel must have at least known how to take care of a lute, if not how to play one.

“What happened?” Jaskier hears Yennefer ask Geralt in a low voice. “We were only gone for three days and we came back to find you sentenced to death.”

“There was a contract to clean out a ghoul’s nest,” Geralt says, sounding tired. “It was easy work and there was a room at the inn included in the pay, so I took it. But I woke up that night to find three men breaking into my room with knives and pitchforks.”

Yennefer sighs. “And you defended yourself.”

Geralt nods. “One of them was the son of the baron's cousin.”

Jaskier grimaces. It seems the baron's family is full of charming characters.

Eskel goes to put one hand on Geralt’s shoulder and the other on the small of Yennefer’s back. “That’s what Yenn and I get for thinking we can leave you alone for more than an hour or two, Wolf,” he says softly, leaning his forehead against Geralt’s.

Clutching his lute to his chest, Jaskier looks between the three of them, interest peaked. The fact that three of the most beautiful people he’s ever met in his life all appear to be lovers is… intriguing. It’s certainly a more appealing thing to dwell on than the thought of what would have happened to him if Geralt hadn’t taken pity on him.

Yennefer notices him watching and frowns. “And who the fuck is this?”

“I already tried to tell you,” Jaskier says. “My name is—”

“He’s a bard.” Geralt shrugs. “He was about to be hung for a bullshit charge. Couldn’t just let him die. He didn’t deserve it.”

Jaskier swallows. “Thank you for that, by the way. I was quite thoroughly fucked before you came to my aid. And not even in the fun way.”

“What are we supposed to do with a bard?” Yennefer demands.

Jaskier offers what he knows for a fact is a beguiling smile. “If I could offer a suggestion—”

“Figured we can find someplace to leave him,” Geralt says. “Wherever it is that bards go.”

Eskel frowns. “We can’t just leave him somewhere. All he has is his lute and the clothes on his back.”

“Yes, thank you, Eskel,” Jaskier says. “You’re already my favorite.”

Eskel’s cheeks turn a fetching shade of pink. Oh, that’s delightful. “You’re Jaskier, right?” he asks. “The poet?”

Jaskier’s eyes widen and he bounces to his feet, delighted. “Oh, so you’ve heard of me? My poetry has not been as popular as my ballads, but I do have two books of poetry to my name, as well as several pieces published in anthologies—”

Yennefer shoots Geralt an exasperated look. “You couldn’t have saved the horse thief? I thought you would have some fellow feeling for that one.”

Geralt rolls his eyes, but he looks more fond than angry.

Jaskier opens and closes his mouth, torn between amusement and outrage. “My lady, I assure you, I am far more handy to have around than a horse thief. The songs that I’ll sing of your heroism today will be known Continent-wide.”

Eskel chuckles and slaps Geralt on the back. “Excellent. That’s the best way to thank Geralt. Write a song about him.”

Geralt sighs loudly. “Where can we bring you, Jaskier? Do you have family or friends you could stay with?”

“Well, my father, the Earl de Lettenhove, wrote to the baron to tell him to go ahead and hang me, since he doesn’t have a son named Julian,” Jaskier says, using cheer to cover up the fact that that still stings. “I do have friends, but they’re all traveling bards. I’d hate to saddle them with me. Like Eskel said, I have nothing but my lute and the clothes on my back. You could bring me to Oxenfurt, I suppose, but in the middle of the term, there won’t be a position for me. So I’m afraid I’m quite out of options right now. My coin and most of my belongings are back at the baron’s estate and I’d rather not risk his wrath by going back there.”

The two witchers and the sorceress exchange looks.

Jaskier steps forward, trying to look wide-eyed and not even a little bit annoying. “If you don’t mind me saying, the reputation of witchers is not… particularly flattering, is it?”

Eskel grimaces, turning his scarred cheek away, like he thinks it will frighten Jaskier. “We won’t harm you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Well, of course you won’t.” Jaskier chuckles at the very idea. “You saved me. Poor villains you make, snatching hapless bards from the jaws of death.”

Yennefer snorts. From the look on her face, she knows exactly what he’s angling for.

“The right song can change the public’s opinion drastically,” Jaskier continues. “There’s a reason kings keep bards in their courts to sing of their exploits in battle. I owe the three of you my life. Let me repay you by traveling with you for a bit. I can write a song that will make the people of the Continent see witchers as heroes, not monsters. Perhaps several songs.”

“And what about me?” Yennefer crosses her arms over her chest and arches one eyebrow. “What songs will you sing of me, bardling?”

Most bard would probably say her beauty: those violet eyes, those raven tresses, that flawless skin and perfect face. Most bards are idiots. “You seem like a woman who has a story to tell,” he says carefully. “I would be honored to hear it and sing of it, if you’d let me.”

It must be the right thing to say, because she lets her arms drop to her sides and shrugs. “We may as well bring him along for a bit. He could be amusing. And Geralt did ruin my perfectly good rescue plan for him. We shouldn’t let that be in vain by leaving the bard in the middle of nowhere.”

Geralt shoots her a wry look. “Next time you have to save my ass, Yenn, I won’t fuck up your plans.”

“Bold of you to assume there will be a next time.” But her words are belied by the fond curl of her lips. Oh, Jaskier needs to know everything about how the three of them ended up together and how their relationship works. They seem like such an odd threesome—two rugged witchers and one elegant sorceress—but he can see the easy affection between them that speaks of years, if not decades, together.

Only Eskel is still looking at Jaskier. “Life on the Path isn’t easy.”

“Neither is life as a traveling bard,” Jaskier says. “Hence the three death sentences.”

“Three?” Geralt asks.

“The other two aren’t important.” Jaskier waves a dismissive hand. “The point is, I’m always up for a new adventure, and an adventure that involves two witchers and a mage seems much safer than traveling on my own. So, what’s the verdict?”

Geralt, Eskel, and Yennefer exchange glances. Some silent communication seems to pass between them, because Geralt says, “Okay. You can travel with us for a bit.”

“A year?” Jaskier offers.

Yennefer makes a disdainful noise. “A week.”

“A month,” Eskel says.

Jaskier nods before Yennefer can argue with that. He has faith that once the month is up, they’ll want him to stay longer. Jaskier is a delight, if he says so himself. “A month I can do. That’s plenty of time for me to write a song of your heroics. Trust me, my friends, I’ll make this more than worth your while.”

“We’ll see about that, bardling,” Yennefer says, already turning away from him.

Jaskier beams at the back of her head, unable to let even her skepticism dull his eagerness. After seven years as a traveling bard, he’s finally going to have a real adventure, one filled with monsters and magic and excitement.

And maybe, if he’s really lucky, just a touch of debauchery.

***

#the witcher #geraskelfer #still determined to make this oT4 a thing #eskel x geralt x jaskier x yennefer #eskel/geralt/jaskier/yennefer #eskel #witcher eskel #geralt of rivia #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #whump the bard #what about the bard

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fire-and-sass · 3 years

Text

written for @whataboutthebard. while the original prompt is from the Whump list, the vibe is more Wuv because ✨ fluff is life ✨ now on ao3!

Title: Moving Pains

Prompt: Day 25 - Hand/Finger Injury.

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

Rating: T

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Tags: Modern AU – No powers, POV Geralt, Established relationship, Domestic bliss, Fluff, no plot only vibes, hurt & comfort (but minor), Idiots in love, Slice of Life

“Do you like my unpacking playlist?”

The first thing that Geralt sees when he drops the box on the floor is Jaskier, holding a frame with Ciri’s latest masterpiece – a wonky house with four stick figures holding hands – in a hand, and a hammer in the other. Jaskier almost looks imposing, but anything would in the empty flat. After all, it’s only square meters of beige hardwood floor and white pristine wall after white pristine wall.

There is a long pause, one in which Geralt considers the possible ramifications of each possible answer. None of them are optimal and it’s the only first day in their new apartment, so he opts for the most diplomatic option.

“It has a lot of Carly Rae Jepsen,” he answers. Maybe if his will is strong enough, his eyes won’t smile this time and betray him.

Jaskier narrows his eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

“No further comments, then.”

:readmore:

Jaskier sighs, waving his hammer hand around to dismiss the topic. “You’ll have time to get used to my excellent music taste, don’t worry.”

Geralt’s mouth follows in the smile. “Sounds threatening.”

“On the contrary, like wine, my music taste only gets better with time.” He grins, his smile going from ear to ear and his eyes wrinkling in happiness. “Just like I do.”

“I hope so,” he says as he closes the distance between them and places a little kiss on Jaskier’s hair. It smells like it always has, like cleanliness and lazy Saturday mornings in bed and shower sex. He can’t wait to keep smelling it for the rest of his life.

“Don’t you get sappy on me, darling. Save something for tonight, I’d like to christen the house as it deserves.” Jaskier wraps one hand around his waist and the frame hits Geralt’s ass with a soft thud. Jaskier laughs and his entire body shakes with him; Geralt just hugs him tighter. Jaskier’s ridiculous and he loves him so much.

Still in his arms, Jaskier bites his lips and tilts his head towards the wall. “Where do you want to hang Ciri’s drawing?”

“We haven’t even unpacked the kitchen stuff yet. Or the bed.”

“But pictures make the house feel so homey!”

“Are you for real?”

Jaskier shrugs. “We can sleep on the floor. Or, better even, not sleep at all.” He winks and Geralt rolls his eyes. It’s been years but it’s always the same with Jaskier. Not that he’d trade it for anything else.

“Stop being cheeky, Jas. We’ve got lots to do.”

“Never! I’d lose half my charm.” He raises an eyebrow and turns toward him. “How did you think I landed you in the first place?”

“By talking so much you wore me down?”

“Scoff as much as you want, Geralt, I know you love me.” After leaving the hug, he takes a step back and looks at the wall, furrowing his brows in distaste. It almost looks like it offends him, all white and empty, just like the rest of the apartment.

“What did that poor wall do to you?” Geralt asks, but Jaskier shushes him, brows still knitted. A frown line has appeared over his forehead and his tongue is poking out, as it always happens when he’s concentrating.

“Please, I am thinking, my love.”

“Thinking? Gods above have mercy on us.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes at his answer and smiles. “I’m thinking composition! Shapes! Colors! Important stuff!” He puts his hands on his hips and, while it’s always pretty hilarious, it’s particularly hilarious because he’s still holding onto frame and hammer, which poke out of his hips like particularly unflattering implants. “You’ll be glad when you have a pretty wall to look at for years to come,” he rules, implacable.

“I’ll leave it to your artist eye then.” With a huff, Geralt stacks the two boxes labelled “Kitchen” (the first is Kitchen Pots, the other is Kitchen Dish-ware) over each other. “I’ll start unpacking the kitchen stuff. We can’t have all that thinking getting you hangry.”

Jaskier’s stern expression softens into something else. Maybe there’s a hint of exasperation, or maybe it’s pride. “You’re a wise man.”

“Somebody has to be.”

Geralt lifts the boxes with another huff. They are surprisingly heavy, although he’s not entirely sure what Jaskier has put in them. It’s not like they are well known for their extravagant cooking in their friend group; Eskel is by far the best chef, maybe followed by Aiden or Triss. Yen would like to be, but it’s obvious that she caters all her events, she’s too busy to do otherwise.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t heart that,” Jaskier replies as he turns back around to face the wall. The tongue is poking out again, which spells trouble for the poor wall.

That’s the last thing Geralt sees when he enters the kitchen. The flat is minuscule – he’s got his doubts that it’s fit for more than one person – but the kitchen is separated from the living space by a small wall. It’s still white too, though Geralt doubts it’ll stay like that for long, with Jaskier so intent on redecorating.

He drops the boxes on the floor as carefully as he can manage and sits cross-legged next to them with a groan. He’s lost count of how many boxes he’s carried up those steep four floors of the walk-up. When he finishes cutting the sellotape of the first box (Kitchen Dish-ware), mismatched bowls, plates, and cutlery greet him. He spots Jaskier’s favorite mug, the one Geralt got him for his graduation when they weren’t dating yet, and the bowl decorated with lemons they picked up on their holiday in Naples, and the crystal carafe Jaskier inherited from his French grandma, the one that passed away before Geralt could meet her.

Those boxes contain their whole lives, the years apart and the years together. Hopefully, when they move again, they’ll have gathered a whole other array of mismatched, beautiful souvenirs of their memories together. But they are staying put for now. He can’t take another move so soon.

“By the way, did Eskel text you?” Jaskier asks from the other room, raising a bit his voice to be heard over the hammering.

“I haven’t spoken to him in a while. Why?”

“The housewarming, what else?”

Even though he can’t see it, he can picture Jaskier’s frown. Geralt sighs. He stares at the Italian bowl and the lemons stare back at him disapprovingly. “Do we have to?”

“And relinquish the occasion to see little Ciri again? Not a chance.” Jaskier laughs. “Plus I want to be gifted plants.”

“What if I buy you plants?”

“It’s not the same.”

Geralt places the Italian bowl on the floor next to him and fishes out Jaskier’s grandma’s carafe, carefully peeling off the bubble wrap around it. It’s hard to keep up with Jaskier’s extrovert nature and, ever the born entertainer, he doesn’t miss any occasion to host. “Can’t the house warming wait until we are settled?”

“I’m just giving you time to get warmed up to the idea.” Then he explodes in a fit of laughter. He’s probably holding his stomach, overly pleased with himself. “Did you hear what I said? Are you laughing, Geralt? Wasn’t the pun great?” There’s a little pause, interrupted by even more giggling. “Please don’t leave me, Geralt.”

“Do I still have time?”

“Nope, no take backsies,” rules Jaskier cheerfully from the other room.

Geralt finishes unwrapping the carafe and reaches out to place it on the kitchen counter, safely away from the countertop edge. They don’t use it very often, just for special occasions, but, as he remembers, it’s a bit chipped on the handle. And it’s precisely on that dent that the last sun rays of the dying day get caught, reflecting a kaleidoscope on the kitchen ceiling.

In the rainbows and orange flash of the play of lights, even that shabby London sunset has created a work of art. If he was a more superstitious man, he’d almost believe that a little miracle has already happened in their kitchen. A good omen for even better things to come.

That’s when he hears it.

An “Aw, fuck,” from the other room, followed by a soft, barely audible whimper.

At first Geralt’s not even sure he’s actually heard anything. He stops his rummaging and holds up the immersion blender midair, still half covered by bubble wrap. “Jaskier? Are you okay?”

There is a long pause where the only thing Geralt can hear is Jaskier’s moving playlist and godsdamn Carly Rae Jepsen singing about really really really liking some dude. Then a faint voice answers, “Yep, all good.” Which is the universal signal for things not being all good.

When he enters the leaving room in a rush, Jaskier is holding his hand, lips pursed in pain, on the verge of tears. The frame is leaning against the wall and the hammer is discarded on the floor.

When Jaskier hears him rush in, he looks up, apologetic. “I just wanted to make it pretty. Don’t say I told you so.” He sighs, closing his eyes and holding out his hand for inspection.

Geralt says nothing and takes it in his hands. It’s swollen, red, and the half-moon of Jaskier’s thumb nail has already started turning black. It’s nothing Geralt hasn’t seen before during his carpenter days: nothing seems broken, luckily, but it will definitely hurt for a while.

“How does it look?”

“Mhm.” He’s not exactly sure what Jaskier wants to know; it’s been years but he still hasn’t perfected the skill of delivering bad news. Jaskier’s permanent puppy eyes make it very hard for anybody with a heart.

Jaskier laughs and it’s the same nervous giggle he always does when he’s nervous. “That bad?”

“It’ll hurt for a few days but it’ll heal.”

“Is there anything I can do about that?” Jaskier asks then, opening his eyes just to squint suspiciously at his own blackening thumb nail.

Geralt shakes his head. “Nothing but time will fix that.” But something in the way Jaskier’s tentative smile turns downwards ever so slightly that makes him add, “But it’s the chance to sport some nail polish.”

Jaskier’s frown stops in its track and turns into a full blow, bright smile. “Look at you looking at the bright side,” he says, nodding in approval. “Ever the optimist, my darling.”

Geralt shrugs – they both know it’s not true, that’s Jaskier’s role in their household – and mumbles something about having learnt from the best without really meaning it, but Jaskier’s smile is infectious and he can’t help but mirror it.

“Do we have any ice?”

Jaskier smiles and it comes out a bit cheeky, even though there are tears pooling around the rim of his eyes. “There’s a bottle of prosecco in the freezer.” He bites his lip and lowers his gaze, like a mischievous child caught with his hand in the Nutella jar. “I got it at Sainsbury’s this morning.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. That cheeky bastard. “So that’s what you were doing this morning instead of helping me load up the van.”

“Hey!” Jaskier elbows him in the ribcage. “It’s for us to celebrate tonight.”

Geralt says nothing but his face expression must say something, anything, because Jaskier straightens his back. His eyes are gleaming, those big blue eyes that have become his favorite place and his personal sky, the one constant through all the odd jobs to make ends meet, the ramen dinners and the budget nights out to get there, to their own flat, their little home.

It’s after a few seconds of that staring contest that Jaskier answers. “Say what you want but, I got my priorities sorted out,” he says with a defiant, mischievous look, one that also spells trouble, but an entirely more fun version of whatever was in store for the poor empty wall just minutes earlier.

Geralt laughs. “Don’t get yourself into something you can’t finish. You’re injured.”

“But I’ve got two hands.” Jaskier pouts.

“Oh, do you?”

At his tone, Jaskier perks up. He never could resist teasing. “Yes, and you don’t even need hands for a lot of things,” he adds winking and, even though he tries to feign nonchalance with a breezy shrug, he scrunches his nose and stiffens.

“I’ll consider your proposal. But, in the meantime,” Geralt lets go of Jaskier’s hand gently, avoiding any sudden movement that could cause him more pain, “Let me get the ice.”

“Please, Geralt, it’s prosecco.” Jaskier sighs melodramatically. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

“Luckily it’s not your carpentry reputation.”

Jaskier casts a dirty glance towards him as he turns the corner to their small kitchen and his “Too soon, too soon,” is ever so slightly muffled by the distance between them.

In the freezer, as promised, there’s a prosecco bottle and a pint of ice cream, Ben & Jerry’s Half-Baked, Jaskier’s favorite. Geralt opens the fridge and, just as he thought, a package of strawberries is waiting for him. Prosecco and strawberries, that’s how they had celebrated their first anniversary and all of them after that one. It’s not quite their anniversary yet, but moving in together is cause for celebration enough.

When he comes back in the living room, bottle in hand, Jaskier is sitting down, leaning against another unopened box (Towels and Bed Linens). He’s holding on to Ciri’s framed drawing and there’s fondness in his eyes, the same look usually reserved to small animals and babies and even Geralt, sometimes. The hammer is still where it was before, discarded on the floor.

Geralt hesitates as he sits down next to him. “So you had plans for tonight.”

“Damn right.” Jaskier tilts his head and gently lays the drawing on the side next to his legs. “You just wait and see. This won’t stop me.” He raises the hand in question: it’s more swollen and the thumb nail has turned almost completely black.

“Maybe you should take it easy.” He hands him the bottle and Jaskier accepts it with a scoff.

“When have I wanted easy?”

“That is true,” he answers and, before Jaskier’s expression turns triumphant, he adds, “you do enjoy making things more complicated than they need to be.”

“Touché.” Laughing, Jaskier tucks his knees in, resting his chin on them, with his arm slack around the bottleneck.

They remain silent for a bit, save for more “moving playlist” consisting of Carly Rae Jepsen and similar-sounding white girls Geralt can’t quite name, before Jaskier looks up at him, sneaking a glance that could only be described as pleading with an edge of mischief. “Can we order takeout?”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you say that we were going to start eating healthy?”

“Please?”

His expression doesn’t have time to turn any sterner before Jaskier interrupts him. “But we just moved! And all of our kitchen stuff is still in the boxes!” He pouts and looks at his injured hand clutching the prosecco bottle with the longing of a seasoned actor (which, in his defense, he kinda is.) “And I’m injured!” he says, finishing with a flourish.

Geralt looks at him and sighs.

He’d always thought he had a gift for saying no to everything, parties, dates, drinks – something all his friends agreed on and made fun of him for – but Jaskier had changed a lot. His life had turned brighter, better, filled with love and laughter and saying yes to things. It often led to headaches but it was worth it.

“Which toppings would you like on your pizza?”

***

They are sitting in the middle of the living room, amidst all the still-unpacked boxes when the pizza comes. They’ve polished off the prosecco and Jaskier’s still holding the empty bottle around his hand, even though it’s now definitely warm, and Geralt goes to open the door, pleasantly buzzed.

When he sits back down and opens the carton, Jaskier’s double pepperoni and Geralt’s own veggie halves are perfectly complementary, just like them, and the tiniest bit smushed in transport, just like them.

Jaskier grabs the first slice and, after a few seconds of overtly intense staring, bites into it, seemingly happy with the result of his appraisal. “So much for a first quiet night in our flat, huh?” He asks, mouth half-full.

Geralt bites into his slice too. It’s just the right temperature: hot but not scorching-the-roof-of-his-mouth hot. “I’m starting to think you attract trouble.”

“Starting? I’m personally offended.” Jaskier grins, wide and bright, and he lights up the entire room. No, not only the entire room, but the entire flat and, probably the whole of London, all the way to Croydon. “You should’ve realized as soon as you met me.”

“Maybe I was too taken by your beauty.” Another bite of perfectly imperfect pizza. “Or your endless chatter.”

Jaskier nods, thoughtfully scratching his chin. “Maybe so,” he agrees, taking the next slice. “I wouldn’t blame you, honestly.”

“Who could?”

“Nobody truly.” He carefully balances the pizza slice on the uninjured hand and folds it, trying not to get any grease on his shirt. “No take backsies.”

“No take backsies,” Geralt repeats.

#whump the bard #wuv the bard #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #geraskier fluff #geraskier modern au #the witcher netflix #this will be up on ao3 at some point too

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twstedbeauty · 3 years

Text

My heart is soft for Azul right now and I just watched Markiplier's wisdom teeth removal video and it's one of the most wholesome, adorable things I have ever seen.

So please, take these headcanons I made for Azul based on that video.

Azul getting his wisdom teeth removed + being high on anesthesia

First off, he does plenty of research beforehand. The human body is a weird thing and it does things that he still doesn't understand. The way wisdom teeth can grow is one of them.

I don't think he'd want to film it to put on the internet. If anything, he'd film it just to watch back himself for research purposes. He wouldn't want it to be put on the internet (so don't let the twins find it...)

You're the one he trusts to go with him. He'd never say it, but he's nervous for the surgery and you can tell he's nervous. His knee bounces as he sits beside you in the waiting room and he keeps taking hold of your hand to interlace your fingers, squeezing it gently.

After the surgery is done, Azul is very sleepy and out of it. His cheeks are swollen underneath the head wrap and already, you can see tears in his eyes.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"I can't feel my tooooongue.....!"

It takes a few minutes to reassure him that he's okay and that the doctors didn't take his tongue. You might even have to take a picture and show him that it's still in his mouth.

Poor thing is just gonna cry over little things and you're gonna have to console him a lot. They say that anesthesia makes you reveal your true self because you're not fully conscious, so it would just make Azul so vulnerable and emotional.

He thanks the doctors. And the nurses. And you. And the janitor on his way out. He thanks everyone because he is just so grateful.

"D-D-Dhey've jush been sho shweet to me. Dhey've tweated me sho well and I don't feel wike I-I deserve it..." The poor thing is just crying. If he gets the name of one of the nurses wrong, he's gonna cry even more and apologize profusely.

If you ever wanted to know how Azul really felt about you, now is definitely the time. He's crying as he pours his heart out to you, how much he loves you and appreciates you.

"Y-You've....you've made me a better pershon...." He sobs as he takes hold of your hand. His teary eyes and swollen cheeks make him look so pitiful and sweet. "Yer jesh sho good....sho kind....I appreshiate you sho mush...!" His words are muffled by the cotton in his mouth, so it just makes it all the more endearing.

"I-I wuv you sho mush...!"

"I love you too!" You giggle, unable to find this both adorable and hilarious.

"I appreshiate you sho mush...."

"I appreciate you too!" You gently pet his hair and smile at him gently as he sniffles, leaning his face against your hand. "You ready to go back to the dorm? See the twins?" He gasps, his lips forming a comical 'O' shape.

"Dhey're not gownna wecognize me wiffout my teef..."

On the car ride back home, he's quieted down and pretty much sleeps the whole way. Upon arriving back to Octavinelle, Jade is already prepared to help with Azul. Floyd is just there to commentate and laugh at him. (You might have to stop him from filming Azul and putting it on Magicam...)

Azul might start crying again over how much he appreciates the twins. He'll cry because he's so grateful for them being his friends and being there to help him when he needed friends. The twins would be VERY caught off guard, as this is NOT like Azul at all, but I think they would appreciate it in their own ways. (And it will DEFINITELY become good blackmail material for later...)

Would they let him keep his teeth? I'm not sure, but if they did, it's the easiest way to keep Floyd from making Azul cry from teasing him. Just show him the bloody bag of teeth and he'll be fascinated by the gore.

Overall, Azul on anesthesia is just the sweetest, most adorable wholesome cry-baby you'll ever come across and you'll certainly never let him live it down~

#twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #disney twisted wonderland #twst azul #octavinelle #jade leech #floyd leech #twst #twsted wonderland #headcanons #twst headcanons

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aoi-moved · 3 years

Note

oughhh wait i gotta ask. do you have any yan mika headcanons

[ that i do!!!! mika is such a cute boy i wuv him ]

mika kagehira- yandere headcanons

Mika is incredibly clingy towards you. He views you as above him, like some kind of god, and wants to serve you, to worship you like you deserve.

He’s a bit of a stalker- well, I say ‘a bit’, but he’s stolen your clothes to use as pillowcases. But could you really blame him? He just wanted to cuddle with you!

Whenever he sees you, no matter what he’s doing, he will barrel towards you and tackle you in a hug. He just loves you so much and wants to be in your arms at all times!

Doesn’t like it when people talk to you. They obviously don’t see your worth like he does, so you shouldn’t bother with them! You’re better than them, anyways.

Overall, he can be very overbearing and overly-doting, but how could you stay mad at that cute face?

#super short bcs it’s almost time for my next class sorry anon aaaaaa #I FORGOT TO POST THIS ITS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS… IM SO SORRY…#enstars x reader #ensemble stars #mika kagehira #yandere enstars

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anneimaginesundertale · 2 years

Note

🐻 give my muse a valentine’s teddy bear if you’re still doing these this one please!!! I just think it would bwe swo cwute two gwive mwy bwossy a tweddy bwear >3<

The bear showed up on Boss’s desk a week before Valentine’s Day. Bright red, about six inches tall, fluffy, and holding a little white heart that said, “I wuv you bears much”, it was absolutely sickeningly adorable. If it hadn’t been accompanied by a card that told him it was from you, he might have thrown the thing out. Instead, he propped it up against his computer and left it there. People in the office knew better than to comment on it to his face, but he definitely heard muffled laughter and incredulous noises as his coworkers walked by his desk.

He thanked you that night with a rose and a small box of candy. Thank goodness the stores had been selling Valentine’s stuff since December. You beamed when he told you that he liked the bear and that made him feel better about having it there.

The next day, there was another bear on his desk. This one was hot pink and had, “Bee my Valentine” embroidered on it with a cartoon bumblebee. Boss set it next to the other bear and ignored the snickers and the looks. He brought you another rose and a card.

On Wednesday, the bear was white and just had a red heart on its chest. Even Boss had to admit that this one was cute. He brought you a personal lasagna and a third rose.

On Thursday, the purple bear held a silk rose. On Friday, the black bear dressed in a white tux and top hat appeared. At least they were getting less punny? Boss gave you more roses and the tickets for your Valentine’s date. He’d intended it to be a surprise, but he had to give you something in return for the bears.

On Saturday, Boss got up early and went on a bear hunt through the house, trying to make sure you hadn’t left him another one in a spot where his brother could find it. The office was one thing. People there knew better than to tease him. Here, though…Red would just be the start of the teasing. Sansy would get in on it. Stretch would get in on it. Anne would get in on it! He would never live it down if you left him another fricking teddy bear, and as much as he liked getting gifts from you, this was starting to get silly.

He’d finally finished checking the house and was headed for the kitchen to start breakfast when he heard the knock on the back door. Surprised, he opened it.

There was a giant teddy bear on the porch. It was absolutely enormous, dark red, and wearing a leather jacket. It held a silky heart that said, “Bossy” on it. Boss stared at it in combined shock, embarrassment, and awe. This was not a store bought teddy bear. This was very clearly handmade, personalized. It was beautiful. It must have taken you months. There was no way he could get this inside the house without anyone seeing him. He made a noise halfway between a moan and a crazy laugh. He picked up the bear.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” you shouted.

For a moment, Boss thought you’d appeared out of nowhere. He nearly dropped the bear. Then he realized you must have been standing behind the damn thing this whole time. Watching him.

Carefully, Boss set the giant bear in one of the rocking chairs on the porch. “Trashy,” he said, “you made this?”

“Onwy the best fow my Bossy,” you cooed, your eyes shining. You blew him a big kiss. “Youw just so pwecious and adowable, I had to get you lots of beaws to show you how much I wuv you!”

Boss tried very hard not to look like Doomfanger having a hairball. “I appreciate them,” he said. “I really do.”

“Hooray!” You dropped the baby voice and flung your arms around him. “I’m so glad!”

Boss hugged you back, any irritation forgotten at the feeling of holding you. He pressed a kiss to your wild curls. “I’m going to have to work very hard to make this up to you,” he said. “You went above and beyond.”

“I just did what you deserved, Bossy,” you said, “because I love you!”

Well, how could he argue with that? “Help me get that thing upstairs,” he said, “and I’ll give you what you deserve for all your kindness and generosity.”

#trashybonecan #boss and trashy #everybody sees the bear #boss can’t murder anybody in front of you and they know it #the teasing is exactly what you’d expect #Boss appreciates the gifts but also…you’re ruining his tough guy reputation #everybody’s gonna know he’s a big sweetie under all those prickles #darn you trashy!

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sitp-recs · 3 years

Text

Drarry for Beginners: Bond fics

Timeshare by astolat (2016, M, 14k)

“It’s not for long,” Hermione said. “By the time we get back to Hogwarts, the Unfettering Brew will be ready.”

“Listen to you!” Ron said. “He’s got to get through a month with the Dursleys and a month at Malfoy Manor. With Draco Malfoy.”

I’ll probably rec everything by astolat at some point because they’re just that good. This is the first Drarry fic of theirs I’ve ever read and it’s such a surprising little tale! I love the pain-sharing concept and Draco’s voice is amazing, insufferable and posh and he’s a little shit to the Dursleys, which is enough to enjoy this fic. Now add impressive back story and slow burn. There’s a lot packed in 14k and things go from funny to serious in a heartbeat without feeling rushed or floppy. I especially love the quiet and heartfelt moments where they start to connect by figuring each other out. Clever and unique!

That Old Black Magic by @bixgirl1 (2019, E, 77k)

Centuries ago, marriage contracts were the norm — ready-made alliances between families, expected and complied with, without complaint. But norms have a way of changing, and when a long-dormant contract flares to life, Harry has to navigate an unexpected splintering of the path he'd thought would be easy after the war... with Draco Malfoy.

Listen, arranged marriage won’t get any better than this. This fic is a masterpiece - creative, powerful and breathtaking. The bonding rituals linked to the house are fascinating and deliver the most beautiful enemies to lovers journey, combining fast sexual burn and slow emotional development. There are so many complicated feels playing here, so much resistance and resentment as Harry and Draco are forced to get intimate and vulnerable with each other. The build up is hot but devastating and almost too much to handle until it’s not, until they fall in love and everything becomes hopeful and tender as they learn each other again for the first time, and that’s when you realize you want to live inside this story forever. This is one of those rides that hits you just right in the feels and leaves your heart aching in its wake.

Bond series by AnnaFugazzi (2005, NC-17, 204k)

Yet another one of those Harry And Draco Are Forced To Be Together By Something Beyond Their Control And Then Stuff Happens Leading To Twoo Wuv stories. Because every HD writer has to write at least one.

A timeless fandom classic that set the bar for all the bonding fics that came after. I’m always awed by the fact that this was written back in 2005 and remains one of the best and most creative takes on this trope. One thing I love about this impressive novel is that it doesn’t beat around the bush; it goes straight for the bond incident and explores how Harry and Draco deal with it while standing on opposite sides of the war. This epic aged well thanks to an engaging plot and consistent character development that follows Harry and Draco growing both individually and together. Peak enemies to lovers with a little magical help 👌🏼

Drarry for Beginners: Soulmates

you've got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass (2018, M, 20k)

When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want. He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

A brutal yet brilliant read, with hardcore angst and a devastating ratio of 90% hurt - 10% happiness but it’s so wonderfully written. I find the concept of severed soulbonds absolutely genius and Draco’s redemption path is moving and bittersweet despite the heartbreak. His fierce and stubborn self-sacrificing persona is fascinating and convincing. I’m also utterly in love with this Ron Weasley. It’s refreshing to see him so caring and generous - in fact, his genuine friendship with Draco is a saving grace through so much hurt. If you enjoy catharsis with a happy ending, this is a must read!

Vortex by @xanthippe74 (2020, T, 20k)

“Don’t worry, my dearest one,” Draco’s mother told him when he confided his worries to her. When he was old enough to feel the pangs of adolescent longing, but still too young to sense the storm gathering around them. “Magic will overcome any distance or obstacles to bring two soulmates together when the time is right. Circumstances will arise that steer them in the right direction; strange coincidences will make their paths cross again and again. Then the most wondrous moment arrives, when you both realize that your soulmate, your perfect match, stands before you, and from that day forward your hearts will be one.”

Hands down my favorite soulmate story. It is also focused on Draco’s individual struggle of coming to terms with his fate (can you tell I’ve got a weak spot for his POV?). It’s bittersweet but also inspiring in a gentle and healing way. I love how @xanthippe74 builds these layered, resilient characters, all while sewing amazing social commentary within the plot. The slow burn is almost poetic - beautiful dialogue, a tentative partnership to help the outcasts and only then Harry and Draco come together, so naturally it feels almost like an afterthought. It’s amazing to see Draco coming a long way, from self-sabotaging to believing he deserves true happiness. Treat yourself and experience this powerful, thought-provoking redemption tale.

Written on the Heart by who_la_hoop (2016, E, 113k)

When he’s hit by an illegal love-spell though, Harry finds he has more to worry about than whether or not Blaise Zabini actually wants to be his friend. For if everyone affected has been blessed – or cursed, by the look on Malfoy’s face – with a magical tattoo revealing the name of their soulmate, what does it mean that Harry’s skin remains completely bare?

This fic is unparalleled when it comes to world building. The magical tattoos are a visually stunning concept, and the author establishes a rich, fun and engaging 8th year universe. I love how the plot explores Harry’s issues but also gives other characters room to shine. Blaise is a triumph, snarky, insufferable and as much a protagonist as Harry and Draco. He holds all characters together through amazing inter-house dynamics. The warm and captivating Hogwarts atmosphere is familiar and full of mundane bonding moments, the perfect setting for this sweet slow burn between a pining Draco and a gentle yet oblivious Harry. You’ll read 100k in one sitting without even noticing, so why not start right now :)

#Drarry for beginners #bonding #soulmates

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cottoncandyjester · 3 years

Note

need more content of darling with the yandere kids barley see them interact together☹️

Part 1 of wholesome parent darling stuff! Definitely will do a part 2

Warning this contains: talk about self harm, wholesome stuff

Lyric:

lyric was a mystery to you, he was always in his room for hours and hours never letting you in. You never felt more confused about your own child, when did he become so distant.

“Lyric, hey baby?” You cooed out as you stood outside his door, there was a few moments of silence before he opened the door. “Yeah? What’s up?” He said, now holding his camera in his hand.

“What are you up to?” You asked out softly hoping for some kind of answer, lyric looked down nervously trying to decide how he should answer “well I was gonna go out into woods and take some photos, I usually only take photos of the city so I wanna change it up” he said softly.

“Oh? How about we have a picnic then, just me and you!” You cheered out excitedly with a bright smile. Lyric looked at you in confusion before giving a soft nod, you reached out softly ruffling his hair, the contact making him tense up for a brief moment before he relaxed under your touch.

“Go get dressed yeah? We’ll make it a whole day” you said happily, now excited to bond with lyric some more. Lyric watched as you happily walked out a look of discomfort on his face as his gripped his camera

He didn’t deserve your love..he didn’t deserve neither your or zeke’s love, he was a bad kid..so why were you so nice? Lyric sighs before he got dressed, humming as he put cute hair clips you bought him in his hair.

He likes all the things you get him, it made him feel so warm and happy inside. “You ready?” You called out, your response making him perk up as he grabbed his bag and sling it over his shoulder now walking to the door where you stood with the car keys and a basket.

As you two sat on the picnic blanket, lyric laid on his back taking pictures of the sky, you suppose now was a good of time if any to try to get him to open up.

“Hey, lyric?”

“Hmm?”

“Yknow me and dad are here for you, right? No matter what” you said softly, your response making him shudder as he sat up and looked up at you now looking down nervously. “Something is going on with you, I just wish you would talk to me..I know you’re not a baby anymore but you’ll always be my child” you said lovingly.

You were surprised to see tears roll down his cheeks, a sniffling escaping him as he looked at you “I-I’m sorry, all I do is make you and papa stress..I-I wish I could be good, I just want to be good” he cried out, you quickly pulled lyric into a hug as he cried into your chest.

“ oh baby,. You are good. You’re amazing and smart and so talented” you cooed out as you pulled him back now wiping his tears away as he looked at you, for the first time in a while he let his walls down..he actually felt like a normal kid.

Lyric vented to you in ways he hasn’t for a while, he told you everything from the self harm to indigo to what he was feeling. There were lots of tears and crying but it made you two closer. “I-I wish you told me sooner, I’m always in your corner” you cried out as you hugged lyric close who was smiling despite his tears..

He really did love you so much..maybe he did deserve your love.

Yuuri:

“You didn’t have to come..” yuuri mumbled out softly as he glanced away, an embarrassed blush on his face as you two stood backstage. “And miss my kid’s first official concert? No way!” You cheered out happily with a smile, you were so proud of him!

“Ah, what if I’m not any good..” he mumbled out nervously with a shaky huff “there is a lot of people out there, what if I screw up?” He said softly with a scared expression, you softly grabbed his hands the action making him look at you in shock.

“You’re gonna do great! Wanna know why?”

“W-why?”

“Cause you’re the greatest no matter what! and I love you no matter what!” You cheered out, your remark being heard by his bandmates

“Oooh yuuri, they wuvvvv you!”

“Say you wuv them back, wittle yuuri”

Yuuri growled lowly, face red “s-shut up! We go on soon! Come on!” He hissed out angrily before glancing back at you “thanks..” he whispers out with a grin. “Hey, it’s my job” you said before giving him a thumbs up and walking off to take your seat.

When on stage, yuuri let out a shaky breath before looking out into the crowd eyes landing on you, you were proud of him..that’s all he really needed.

Yuuri put everything he had in that performance, he was pretty sure his voice was gonna be gone the next day from how much he was screaming. Even still he really wanted to find you and gush about how amazing it was. “I did it! They cheered so loud! And they sounded like they liked it! It was so cool and-” you held back a laugh as yuuri vented, where did the time go..he was already 17 yet here he was gushing and ranting like a little kid.

Without thinking you reached out and ruffled up his hair “you were amazing” you said softly. Yuuri stopped talking and looked at you, his smile growing bigger as he rubbed the back of his neck “of course I was!you raise me after all!” He cheered out

Kai:

“What made you wanna dye your hair?” You asked Kai as you applied the dye to his hair, he suddenly asked you to dye his hair..which you of course agreed to! “Well, I figured dying it blue would be fun” he cheered out making you tense up.

“B-blue..?”

“Yeah! The dye I bought is blue, the box is blue after all!” He cheered out, you glanced at the blue box with bright pink letters on it..oh dear. “You really want blue hair?” You said nervously, you and rin didn’t have the smartest kid..but damn he does try to be.

“Well honestly I thought blue would match me a lot, so yeah!” He cheered out happily. “Baby, my sweet boy..you bought pink hair dye..” you said softly as you looked at his hair..you already applied it all on.

“H-huh but the boy-”

“It says pink hair dye on it kai” you said softly making him silent.

“Oh..we’ll that’s okay!” He cheered out happily, you were so glad that he wasnt a picky kid. After waiting the suggested time you helped him wash it out before styling it.

“Ta-da” you cheered out as you two stood in a mirror, he gasps softly not sure what to think..pink did look nice but he felt dumb for getting the wrong dye. “ I look like a bubblegum..” he whispers out softly.

“You don’t like it?” You asked worriedly, he looked to you before smiling “no no I do love it! I just feel silly..I made a dumb mistake again..” he said sadly, you frowned now hugging him “aww Kai, it wasn’t dumb..I think it looks better like this!” You reassured him with a laugh

“Then will you dye your hair pink too? We can match!”

Freya:

You definitely noticed freya sneaking into the house, trying to be sneaky as she tried to creep to her room. “Freya, I see you” you said firmly making her squeak, you got a call from her school saying that she didn’t go that day.

“Wanna talk to me and tell me why you missed school?” You asked out softly, the girl looked down a wave of nervousness washing over her. “I-I don’t wanna go to school anymore..they don’t wanna call me freya, a-and they keep making me use the boys bathroom still” she said softly clearly very uncomfortable.

Your eyes softened and you sighed heavily, hugging the girl “I’ll make some calls okay? But next time you gotta let me know, or else I can’t fix it” you said lovingly.

“Also, you changed how you styled your hair..it’s pretty” you said with a smile, the fact that you noticed made the girl tear up with a happy expression. “Y-you noticed?! I-I’m trying to look cuter lately” she said softly as she messed with her hair tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I-of I look cuter than people will stop calling me a boy” she mumbled out softly, freya really was a soft sensitive soul. “You’re not a boy though. You’re my awesome and beautiful daughter!” You cheered out, now making the girl cry more as she hugged you tightly.

“Hey, how about we go out for a pampering? Nails done and even shopping yeah?” You asked softly, freya nodded softly still burying her tear stained face in your clothes. “You’re the best.” She whispers out softly.

“Of course I am, yknow how clueless your father can be about this” you said with a huff, you adored and loved prince..but he wasn’t the most knowledgeable about this topic and only ever made freya feel worse about herself.

You made sure to only raise her up and she adored you for that

#yandere imagines #yandere ocs #yandere #yandere kids

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