#did I somehow self sabotage this to always be my truth?!

[snittygoop]

Someone I once called my friend really stuck 10 knives into my back. I really must have not meant much to them if i was that easy to discard.

[da-rum-darim-da]

her.

Dear,

As time closes in on my strength, let me tell you one final time of how I came to be the man you loved, and if there's any truth more pure than this then I have not found it in this lifetime and it is that you made me the man I am.

I was sold the moment they said, "Love is not for you." And slowly with time and experience I began to believe them. Girlfriends? I had a few. And as much as it hurts when I admit now, that I never once fully loved any of them, it also gives me some comfort in knowing that I probably was meant to learn from you.

I wasn't always sure when I found my eyes looking for you, be it in crowds or places I'd be in and hope you'd bump into me there. But I knew, I knew I'd liked you. Yes, I did. And as always there was a but in our story too, and that 'but' included my insecurities and vulnerabilities that I thought admitting would make me less of a man.

I was wrong in the thought. Me not admitting those insecurities and not accepting them failed me either way. My actions were laced with the counter of those insecurities, I was shy and who'd have liked a shy man, so I acted rude because of the limited words I could ever manage. I was ashamed of my skin, and never admitted to the creams my sister would recommend for me to use and I did; because I had a tough guy persona to keep up with, the stereotypical male outlook of the society. But looking back I was nothing but a coward, who couldn't even love himself. I was afraid of standing out in that way. Writing this, I can remember my awkward laughter when I was standing with the rest of the baseball team players who snickered about the other guys' soft and clear skin. I hated sports, but somehow I always played one to hide my active and passionate interest in my academics.

Maybe it was because of how I was, life decided to teach me a changing lesson by having you show up at my most vulnerable moments. Key word, moments. Not once, not twice but thrice at the most crucial ages of my life. It's funny how you noticed me only on the third moment.

The first was the last game I'd play as the pitcher of the High School team, and it was not because of that, that I'd cried, I cried because I knew this was the last ever game I'd see you on the bleachers cheering for the team but my delusional teenage self took satisfaction in thinking you'd be there for me. I didn't go to the after party of the win, but I was standing alone in the field. Silently shaking with my tears as I glanced up at the big lights. That was probably the first time I felt weak and vulnerable, outside my self, my brain.

You have a picture of me standing alone in the field and looking up. But you didn't know it was me, until much, much later.

The second time was when I was not placed in any of the companies I sat in the interview for. I was wretched, my ego was bruised and I felt hopeless. I was supposed to be a man, earn, provide for my family but how come I failed at the very step of being a man? I was beyond devastated and confused, my mental state back then could only be summed up in a few words, destructive, self-sabotage and depression. How could I, the one guy who had the confidence, charm, and the excellent GPA not crack any of the interviews? I had back then lost all and every hope in my life, and at that time romance wasn't even on my mind.

I saw you by chance when my mother dragged me to the temple to pray, hoping that any evil and malefic on me would wash away. You were just the same as you had been in high school, breathtakingly beautiful, with your presence so soothing and calming that it felt as if you were one of the priestesses of the Gods from heaven itself, and your smile. Please, the gentle curve of your lips had haunted my dreams of building a future with you even in my teenage life, so when you randomly smiled at a kid when in line, I just knew my heart was stolen for the second time by the same person in my life.

I didn't dare to approach you, not with your family around and even more so because of the lack of recognition in your honeyed orbs.

Did you know, the very next day after the visit, I had gotten a call from one of the HR's of the company I interviewed for saying they'd had a technical error with my email and that I had to join as soon as I could? Yup, you were my lucky charm.

The third meet was something that I'd anticipated. The school reunion. I dreaded going, because I didn't feel accomplished enough as the others were.  I was still a nobody in my workplace and thus was on the verge of being laid off. But I ended up going, simply because I saw your story on your IG that you'd flown from wherever you were to the city especially for the event. I wasn’t polished enough, I should’ve shaved and put on the new cologne I’d brought. I should’ve worn your favourite shade of pastel even if it looked bad on me.

But nevermind all that when I saw you with a wide grin on your lips when you greeted everyone. You were loved by all, just how you deserved to be. And I was one among the many that had their gaze on you. 

It was all fine until someone brought up the changes I’ve been through. I understand that I’d change drastically from highschool to where I was. I’d no longer hide my preferences of making myself clean up and look up to the mark, always. But there was still a part of me that chose to blend in, so I picked up the alcohol even if I didn’t exactly want to. I shouldn’t have. 

A few sips and I’d had to excuse myself to wretch my guts out and guess who helped me even in the gents’ room? You of course. It had always been you, even when you’d seen my pathetic side. For someone like you it may have been a moment of kindness but for me it was the universe singing the chants of sacred marriage in my head. 

let me know if you need a pt 2.

[girl4music]

“It’s exactly like a Greek Tragedy. There should only be Greeks.”

I swear to God this is my favourite fucking line in ‘Restless’. It’s not just the truth of it. It’s that it’s Anya that says it - but it’s also that it’s also not… because it’s Willow’s dream: everything is in her perspective.

This is how she perceives of Anya perceiving her.

She somehow knows - doesn’t know when or where - that she’s going to fall into her Greek Tragedy. The same way she knew she was “bad” in ‘Bad Girls’. The same way she knew she was a “loser” and a “geek”.

Out of her insecurities/anxieties/repressed emotions.

But also the layered mental mechanism she has of how she thinks OTHERS perceive of her because it.

Her dream in ‘Restless’ is so fucking clever and profound because it’s just so truthful to that.

On the surface it’s imposter syndrome but there’s just so much more going on in that girl’s head that you can’t completely put it down to that or any condition that she has actually - because they’re all part of her complex trauma. They’re all part of her Greek Tragedy.

And because it’s ANYA. Anya - the one character in the show that Willow butts heads with most. Anya - constantly commenting on how useless and worthless Willow is. Anya - seeing Willow’s dark side arguably before anyone else really did. Anya - always wary of what Willow could become if she accumulated as much power as she once had as a vengeance demon.

It’s not just that the line said is the truth of it.

It’s that they picked the PERFECT character to say it.

And that of course - OF COURSE - Willow would unconsciously choose Anya to be the one who does.

‘Restless’ is not just excellent character arc foreshadowing. It’s also excellent at showing and telling us what we already know but may have overlooked because we’ve never considered it relevant until we look back on when and where it happened and how it informs all that is to come. Is becoming. It’s your honest look-in to who all these main characters are. But I just find Willow’s dream to be the most profound because she’s undecided on who that is. And she’s not only undecided - she’s also unaware.

That’s why she has EVERYONE ELSE say it for her. Because if they see it in her, then it must be true right? Except no, it’s not. It’s only true because she worries it is. Because she thinks it is. Because she believes it is. And that’s why it’s so damn clever and profound. Because it’s a whole construct of Willow’s perception. None of it is true - at the time. But it ends up true because self-sabotage and self-corruption is possible. So when Joss is making a case for imposter syndrome in this dream… it’s only half-accurate… because the only real condition Willow has is her own self-doubt.

And she never would have fallen from grace otherwise.

Okay… I just have to carry this on. Let’s look at ‘Buffy’ in Willow’s dream both when she’s in “costume” in the “play” and when she’s not. What she says to and about Willow. And by extension - what Willow says to and about herself. Think about all the lines “Buffy” has in Willow’s dream. All the quirky cryptic one-liners.

Even her whole “Men and Sales” monologue.

Why is Willow NOT this character in her dream?

Why does Willow not perceive of HERSELF as the one confident and outspoken and competent?

Why does she unconsciously give Buffy this persona?

Because it’s how she sees Buffy!

And therefore it’s also how she DOESN’T see herself.

And then when they’re not playing characters and they’re not in costume, why is Buffy suddenly so course and harsh in the way she speaks to Willow?

Why is SHE the one to expose Willow’s greatest fear?

Because when Willow’s around her - she is nothing special. She is nothing to look at and be in awe of. She’s not of any use or value when the Slayer is there

Except… she ends up being THE ONLY REASON the Slayer is there. So is what she believes the objective truth of her? No, it isn’t. It evidently can’t be the truth.

It only is because she chronically FEARS that it is. And fears can do some messed up shit to our psyche until we eventually see them for what they are. Just fears.

[sarahtrolls]

tadjah, what's one thing you wish you could say to someone who isn't in your life anymore?

...

i guesss theres only reallly one option that makes any modicum of sense here and thats unfortunately my ex. yvvviah i bet you stilll stalk me on here so if you somehow seee this i hope you know i reallly didnt do any of that shit on purpose. i know you claim it was to ruin your career and make you ugly or whatever but i was literallly just trying to keeep you alive. i would be willling to make you a more functioning body that loooks more like how you used to but with the level of disdain you have for me and seeemingly always did have im questioning if i should even let you be around me anymore. telll me the truth dude were you gonnna break up with me if engineeering felll through and i had to be a helmsman? was the only point of dating me that i was prettty and had a chance at succcesss so i could contribute to your vain self image of yourself as a beautiful lowbloood rising above the ugly highblooods? do you reallly think i hurt you on purpose or do you just keeep tellling yourself and everyone else that to perpetuate your victim complex? do you think i secretly hated you and wanted to sabotage your careeer because thats how you always felt about me?

...

sorrry i just have a lot of thoughts about this. if i have to narrrow it down to one specific thing to telll him i guesss its...

...

you deserved it assshole.

[x1e3ju]

sigh.

i realize i dont rant here enough like as much as i should. i should be drawing and not spending time being a fucking idiot ranting on TUMBLR at 2 am but shuake is just too serious for me

CUZ yall don’t understand my level of. crazy. my level of insane my level of obsession its been like 7 months of just straight up fixation and i always find the same things to feel the new feeling of love again for them. saw someone talking about their short film like a little summary on what its abt and the inspiration, a little love letter to their lover of sorts saying how the film is abt genuinely loving someone who is good to you for the first time, “This was the first time I would say "I love you" to someone, and it not come from a place of fear or a toxic one. This film is a celebration of vulnerability, and letting pure, secure love in without the constant impulse to self sabotage” I’ll quote and bc i cant think of love without immediately thinking of shuake (its a genuine problem lmao😭), i HAD to just think about them and yk what. idegaf their love is so beautiful to me. i think the idea of akechi having bpd and the same mental issues and disorders as me finding love in someone who is also very similar to him in some sense, like them both being autistic and such, just really speaks a lot to me.

im definitely not an opposites attract person, although they technically WOULD be opposites i think the whole troupe of “enemies” to lovers is the fact that they arent really enemies and actually have a lot more in common than first thought, at least when done well anyway so to me, they aren’t opposites when it comes to like. the things that matter like personality and the things that make people connect and become closer like the things u cant control ig lol but anywho, bc i hc (its basically canon) akechi having bpd i think thats why it means SO MUCH more to me and i love his character sm. he’s not my favorite, but bc that’s the first time i see a character like that be represented with something so similar to me and not be treated like a villain or just be really extreme like akechi is definitely. well. extreme but he’s not like, let’s say, like yuri level from ddlc like i wouldnt even consider that bpd she just straight up crazy😭 like idk, i just really relate to akechi so i really see him having bpd and bc ive always felt soo left out bc of my bpd even in spaces you would THINK would be safer, i always feel singled out somehow and although i still dont really know why, ig i see myself in akechi a lot and even akira too so the idea that parts of me could find that love and care like the fact that parts of me could find other parts of me, ig im not broken lmao like its all a little puzzle :)

okkk lore drop🔥🔥 got so hashtag emo there BUT that meant something i promise!!! that whole idea of feeling like ur missing something or theres just something wrong with u or ur unloveable or whatever, the idea that akechi felt that and FOUND it in akira makes my heart melt like a fucking fangirl i hate everything. i always think abt shuake and their love bc people always say how they are so toxic blah blah blah, and yk what, lemme not lie, that’s probably the truth! but i cant see them being soo toxic like that especially with how young they are like akechi was like. a few months of just turning 18, akira was 17 like they arent full grown adults even tho akechi was definitely aware enough to know what he was doing was wrong (even at 15 or however old he was when first helping shido i would say), you wouldnt understand the FULL severity of it like its a lot to explain but HOPEFULLY i make sense lol😭😭 and i think just being so young and growing through so much like im already. off. and i dont even live a life CLOSE to that EVER like of course he’s gonna be a little. off his rockets🤩 i mean what did yall expect😭 i keep using this phrase but yea!! so the idea of him meeting akira and finally being able to feel that youth and enjoy parts of life that typically teenagers get to live is si sweet to me.

mind u, im not saying that him living that “teenage life” is the way it HAS to be lived bc i think my life is better without those things as a teen myself and its most definitely not necessary but to me, akechi is just like. a very much stan twitter gay guy😭 he has his little bit of nerd (WHICH I LOVE^_^) but like anyone, of course he would want and need that friendship, that connection. do i believe he wouldn’t really care abt friends and shit? yea bc look, i dont really care for that myself but i wont lie to you and tell u i would love just ONE good connection in my life like yk, a friend i actually want but im not gonna be all friendless here so back to akechi!😊 he’s just very normal high schooler to me, ONE THING I LOVE ABT HIM AND SUMI ACTUALLY. i feel like with sumi, because ae doesn’t know like anything abt akechi’s past and what’s he’s done and stuff i feel like akechi just gets to live a “regular high schooler life” with sumi, yk? like everytime akechi and sumi would hang out (i like to believe they would hang out pre royal idgaf🥱) and akechi would complain or talk akira, sumi would just think “ah he’s on his crush thing again” like ae has NO CLUE he’s gonna shoot him in the head and yk what. that connection definitely means something bc that would be the first person akechi has ever met his age who ISNT involved in his “work life”?? like isn’t involved in his cases and shit like. a genuine healthy friendship🤯🤯🤯 and thats ANOTHWR reason i love sumigoro (make fun of me all u want but i seriously do not. gaf😜😝) bc i think akechi would really go and mess that up, he’d be like “wait. do i actually like sumi” all bc of the fact that they have a good connection and akechi isnt used to that

WHICH brings me to what i was GOING TO bring up (sorry for the crazy detour) but YEA, the whole idea of having a love and always feeling the need to self sabotage reminds me smm of shuake. akechi going and ruining their connection even though there was definitely ways he could’ve gone abt killing shido…. with the phantom thieves’ health possibly👀👀???? i feel like that was the prime explain of self sabotage, guilt and the fact that he wasnt even actually processing what he did and HAS done. like that one scene after 11/20 where he’s in the studio filming and their asking him abt the pts and he gets slient and thinks abt some shit like abt the pts and sorta feels guilty (idk if thats the undesirable child scene i think it is but im not sure lol) but yeah that, that is the PRIME explain of processing and guilt. after killing people and doing all that shit for so long i think that was the first time it actually hit him like “oh shit wait. i’ll never see these people again” like the idea that it hit so close to home, these were kids HIS age, even younger too and.. what EYE like to believe, people he thought probably deserved more life than even himself (like the after thought of it) bc u cannot convince me he really sent his ass over to shido’s palace just to tell joker some shit like girl. and getting himself killed too like naww that’s embarrassing as shit😭😭 like ik thats talked abt and thats what the whole scene is abt but like. EXACTLY he felt guilt for his actions and felt he needed to atone!! HE HADNT REALLT PROCESSED ANYTHING IF HE WAS FEELING THAT NOWW ofc he was going to get innocent people killed like. YEA😭😭 but he’s a fucking kid like what did u expect him to do, even if i had that power even with the current knowledge i have☝️🤓 i wouldnt even realize wtf im doing like yk ur doing something bad, but as a smart kid too.. its all abt competition lol, but in all seriousness tho and they show that in the game

ok sorry got off track again but yea, self sabotaging his love with akira all for the competition of it all, clearly i will never just flow into it naturally so ill state it plainly, self sabotaging his love and overall genuine connection with akira bc thats all he was ever thought to do, from his own mother and obviously, his own father. had to sabotage the love he had for his mother bc well. she ended up kwording herself😭😭 and had to sabotage the love for his father (which didnt exist to me idc) bc he had to kill him, i mean. he was awful😭😭 so having that constant battle between that, thats one thing i LOVE like ADORE ABOUT SHUAKE i love the idea that they could be vulnerable with each other i also love akira and his personality cuz he compliments akechi so well in SO MANY WAYS whoever wrote and made their characters and storylines personally ate with their yaoi deliverance😍😍 LMAO that was a joke but honestly. gave us such a good ship TY🙏 atlus at least for SOMETHING ur good at like like the thing i quoted said, THE WAY THAT IF ATLUS WOULDVE GAVE US AN I LOVE YOU BETWEEN THEM. aside from the fact i would’ve killed myself and died and then fell off a cliff and then kill myself again and killed myself a 3rd time just to make sure i also would’ve cried SO BAD, ik thats asking for WAYY TOO MUCHH but let a girl dream smh like IT WOULDVE MESNT SO MUCH AND HAD SM WEIGHT, it truly would’ve been akechi’s first ily that would’ve came from a genuine good place or would’ve been the first ily he ever heard that didnt try to manipulate or gain smth out of him!! which is. BEAUTIFUL ALL WAYS U LOOK AT IT like they definitely had their ups and downs (shuake i mesn) but the fact akira still wouldve loved him and seen him through everything is just so. something abt the unstable and the unstable but a little more stable dynamic😍😍 but seriously tho lol, i love their connection. again, it just speaks a lot to me SO PERSONALLY i hate everything

one thing i love abt royal is how we got to see akechi’s character a bit, i do like the royal writing a lot for this reason, some parts felt like aww yk lol and kinda reminiscent to the beginning of the game which felt a lot more genuine even tho royal’s writing felt more fanservicey, it had SOME sense of like, ok the characters arent written toooo bad here like the middle of persona so i appreciated it and u can tell atlus put a lot more work on the royal trio scenes (the fanservice was crazy in that part😭) so i also loved that too lol bc again, we got to see akechi’s character and the effect joker had on him and how like. less of an asshole he was like i wish we could’ve seen just a BIT more of him. again again i just LOVE dynamics like shuake and seeing characters grow and shit and shuake just does it so well UGH i hate them😭😭

[graysonheller]

When it came to relationships or anything resembling one Grayson had never fully taken the plunge, which to most people was a red flag when considering he'd recently crossed the bridge past thirty. It was likely a subconscious sabotage on his part when anytime he'd somewhat been seeing someone in the past that he let things fall apart. Grayson had always chalked it up to being too damaged and still in the thick of it, but then there was Damian who was familiar in that sense. It could've been why their friendship had worked so well and had stood the test of time and drug abuse, and how they'd maintained a connection through sobriety. But right now he was lost and confused, questioning everything that was and wasn't coming his way in regards to his friend.

The caress against his jaw, the display of affection, did little to distract him from the pensive state he'd fallen into. But he'd held Damian's eyes as his friend demanded by turning his head and listened. Just figuring it out as you go. That was the thing... generally Grayson was great at reading people. He had to be because his clients were rarely ever completely up front and honest so he'd had to become an expert at reading between the lines. It was just that Damian seemed more hot and cold and in and out than any of the people he'd been paid to defend. And it wasn't lost on Grayson that he may have been the cause of that. He was a broken soul, someone that since his mother had passed hadn't been shown how to love and open up properly.

Tactile in his search for comfort, Grayson found Damian's need soothing but also allowed his friend to mold him as needed as he worked to find the strength in putting his thoughts and feelings into words. If anyone could understand how difficult that was, it was likely himself. "I wish I could say it was fear for me. That I'm scared I'm not good enough to date anyone... for me it's more of a knowing," he said somewhat quietly. "I am all those things, yes," he smiled a little, his cockiness breaking through a smidge, "but so are you. It's just your natural inclination to self doubt and self hate that has you thinking otherwise." Somehow in the environment he'd been raised in that part had skipped Grayson. It could've been his pursuit of a law degree and the confidence it took to be a trial attorney that hadn't allowed for him to be that way. But maybe he'd just internalized it more than others and it came out in different ways. "I've never told you or even hinted in any way that you're not good enough for me... quite the opposite actually."

Listening as Damian went on and eventually found his way to his feelings and expressing what he wanted, Gray found himself going through a mix of emotions. Relief that his friend felt the same way, and fear that if they dated he'd ruin everything. That he'd somehow be the worst thing that ever happened to Damian. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been withholding and turned his head back to stare absently at the coffee table. Already in a nerve wracking confession he was failing to show up for his friend, but in truth he just needed a moment to process. "I need you to stop giving me outs," he said quietly, still fixed on the table in front of him, "it just creates doubt and I'm sorry that I'm demanding you to be sure of what you want and feel..." Grayson looked at Damian then, "but I don't want to be half in and half out." In fighting himself, he started to bounce his leg up and down. Anxiety had to work itself out in some way. "So... let's tell people we're dating then. But... that also means you have to let me take you on an actual date." Now, trying to find his humor and lighten up from the black hole he wanted to swan dive into... "No getting into my pants until after."

A smile lifted the corners of his mouth a little. "In case you ever question how special you are... I've never done this, with anyone, before." Which also meant if Damian broke his heart then there was no return.

Watching as Grayson pulls himself back, all Damian can really do in the moment is bring his knees to his chest as he listens to his friend talk. His arms wrap around them, brows furrowed as he tries to understand the words — Grayson’s talking about being confused, admitting that he feels like Damian’s been playing games with him. And he — well, he doesn’t know what to say to that, for a moment. He hadn’t realized that’s what he’d been doing — in fact, he’d felt the opposite, like Grayson had been the one flip-flopping on him. But — he supposes there’s fault somewhere in between the two of them, for not establishing a clear line of communication. Damian thinks all they’ve been doing is reading in between the lines, gauging moods by glances and postures rather than actually saying what they mean.

But saying what he means is so — terrifying, Damian thinks. Because what if Grayson says no? What if Damian offers him a way forward together and he decides it’s not worth it with him? He watches as Grayson’s demeanor shifts from his usual-confident self into something more vulnerable, more open — his shoulder slump and his expression shows the slightest bit of resignation and then he avoids Damian’s gaze after admitting he feels like he can’t read him anymore, and he thinks: well. So what if it’s a no? He puts aside his own vulnerabilities, his own insecurities, and instead focuses on what he does better than most people — being a good friend.

He scoots himself closer to Grayson, hesitating for a moment before bringing a hand to turn his face back to meet Damian’s gaze. His thumb strokes his jaw softly as he searches Grayson’s expression. “I didn’t, uh,” he clears his throat. “I didn’t know you were feeling that way.” He licks his lips nervously. “I’m sorry that you were. I — I think I just thought—” he shrugs, smiling a little sadly. “I don’t know. Maybe you didn’t want to hear it anymore?” He huffs. “I don’t think you’re fucked up,” he confesses quietly, pressing his forehead against Grayson’s. “I think you’re — like me,” his smile softens. “Just figuring it out as you go.” His index finger traces the line of his jaw. “But maybe that’s not a good idea, when it comes to us. Because then it ends with us being all confused and shit.”

His hands trails down Grayson’s arms in comfort, turning his body over to face Damian’s. He takes his hands in his, then inhales deeply, trying to find whatever ounce of courage may exist in his body. “I’m scared I’m not good enough to date anyone,” he admits quietly. “And you are — larger than life to me,” he continues. “You’re smart, and you’re funny, and you're handsome, and you’re talented, and you’re you and I’m me, and so the thought that anyone like you might want someone like me is,” he shrugs. “Kind of impossible for me to fathom, y’know?

“So,” he licks his lips again. “If — uhm, if sleeping with me is all you want to keep doing, then, by all means, let’s,” he says. “But if — if a part of you — feels about me the way I feel about you,” he adds slowly, squeezing his hands. “Then you should know — I’m not playing games,” he tells Grayson. “I want — to be with you,” he chokes out as best he can through the lump of nerves in his throat. “And not just in the, let’s fuck exclusively kind of way, but in the, I want to tell people we’re dating kind of way,” he laughs lamely, face flamed in red. “But — again,” he pulls his forehead back. “I — you don’t have to want to,” he assures him. “We can — we can just keep being what we are, if that’s what you want. No hard feelings. I just want you to be okay,” he confesses. “Because, well — you’re my friend, first and foremost. And I care that you’re okay.”

[neiptune]

twelve months

pairing: sanemi x female reader wc: 6k warnings: injuries, violence, abuse, sanemi's mouth note: just some really long, really slow burn, self indulgent content right here

The wind hashira is no master, nor he ever intends to be one. That is until you show up to sabotage his whole goddamn existence

Sanemi Shinazugawa never wanted a Tsuguko. He never wanted a successor and he certainly didn't want to have to train one.

You had applied for the position a year before, in the most annoying way he had ever have the misfortune of experiencing. He had no idea how you managed to find his estate, appear out of thin air just to kneel on the ground and bow dramatically, forehead resting on your overlapped hands as you asked him to become your master.

“Get the fuck out”, was the only thing he spat, before turning his back to you and disappearing behind closed doors.

But there you were again, the next day. And the day after that. For a whole month, you showed up every single day, with the same identical request, making the veins on his temples throb and his eyebrow twitch. He even attacked you, hoping it would be enough to make you desist. It was pathetic, the way you took his kick to the stomach, gasping for air, tears in your eyes. But even while on all fours on the dusty ground, struggling to breathe, with his foot painfully pressing on your hand, you had repeated your plea. It was infuriating.

At this point, he was ready to simply beat you every single day until you decided you had enough. Except, his brilliant plan coudln't properly take form because somehow Oyakata-sama came to know about the odd situation and asked to see him individually. Kind and balanced as always, he asked him to give you a chance. He asked him to train you. “A slayer with such an iron will, bold enough to ask for your guidance, surely deserves an opportunity. Don't you think, my beloved child?”

Sanemi curled his hands into fists.

“With all due respect, she's no slayer, master. And I do not wish to have a successor”.

Oyakata-sama smiled.

“I kindly ask you to guide her, Sanemi. I will not force any final decision on you, if after a year you won't be willing to take her as your Tsuguko, you will be free to let her go. It would give me some peace of mind, knowing that you would be her master. She refused the offer of every other Hashira willing to train her”.

First thing he thought: what? A whole fuckin' year?

Second thing he thought: is she a dumbass? Does she even know who I am?

Third thing he thought: goddamn it. Fine, but I'll give her hell.

And he really did, give you hell. He wasn't training you to be a Tsuguko. Truth be told, he wasn't training you at all. Sanemi actually liked having students sent his way from time to time, both because of how badly they feared him and the fact that he had permission to do as he pleased. He never gifted anyone with advice or instructions, by any means. Whoever was unlucky enough to be in his presence for a supposed training session, experienced one thing and one thing only. Relentless, violent, heavy beating. Like some sort of punishment. For having been so weak and yet dumb enough to insist on being slayers. For having been arrogant enough to think they'd be able to keep up with him. For just being there, instead of living normal lives, instead of traveling far enough to leave their pitiful stories behind and start everything from scratch.

That's what he did with you as well. One day, instead of telling you to fuck off for the millionth time, he just threw a wooden bokken your way.

“On your feet”, was the harsh order.

You did as instructed, no trace of triumph or satisfaction on your stoic face. He was so ready to wipe any smile or gratification from your face, yet you never showed any. Your expression always remained impassive throughout the months. Apathetic, even. Except for when you took his harsh, brutal blows. Then you allowed yourself to let the pain break through the outer layer.

Much like every other slayer, you never received advice or instructions from Sanemi Shinazugawa. Every single day, you were mainly just beaten to a pulp. It had gotten so bad that one of the other pillars, Kocho Shinobu, insisted that you went to see her at least once a week so that she could check on your injuries.

“At this rate you're gonna get yourself killed, y/n”, she would say, sorrow evident in her worried eyes.

“I'm being trained by a Hashira. It's the greatest of honors and I am grateful”, you would reply, making her sigh in exasperation.

Just because Sanemi didn't guide you through your training, didn't necessarily mean that he was quiet either. By the end of the second month, he had called you a number of things. Weak, pathetic, delusional, a sorry ass excuse of a slayer, the stubborn bitch who insisted on wasting his time. But anger didn't consume him just because of how inexperienced you were. No, it was just you. Never complaining, never surrendering, completing each day of nothing more but tormenting beating without a single protest. Hell, even on the day he broke two of your ribs, one of your fingers, you said nothing more than “I apologize, master Shinazugawa” or “I will do better, master Shinazugawa”. You apologized a lot, promised a lot, barely saying yes master, no master, whenever he harshly demanded for an answer. But that was it. And it infuriated him. Not knowing why you wanted specifically him to train you, why you even bothered suffering so much, how you became a slayer, who were you, how the fuck did you resist all day without a single drop of water or any food. Your training went from 6am to 6pm, no rest days except if your injuries were too severe.

To make things worse, you had met his brother. And you two had hit it off, bonded by the way Sanemi treaded both of you. Each day, he allowed a break of twenty minutes, so he could consume his lunch and you could do whatever the fuck it was that you did sitting in his garden, no matter the weather. If Genya happened to pass by, he sat with you. It was the only times Sanemi could hear what your voice sounded like, actually sounded like. You talked a lot, really, and you were friendly, kind, considerate. Asking him about his training, replying to his questions. Yes, Sanemi eavesdropped, so what? His estate was silent as he ate and you two were just outside. Not that he ever stepped out to greet his brother.

“Why are you doing this?”, Genya asked you one afternoon, casually offering you an onigiri. You didn't accept it.

“Doing what? I'm training, like every other slayer”.

He scoffed.

“Don't deflect. Why this? Why him?”

You refused to look at him, suddenly feeling very small and vulnerable. Dumb, even.

“He's the harshest”.

Genya blinked at you, confused. Your half smile didn't reassure him at all.

“I deserve the harshest training, Genya. No mercy, nor pity. I don't deserve the easy way, I just need some rigid, rigorous, rough training. I know he thinks I'm not even trying, but I am. I will be better, I will succeed”.

Sitting at his table, Sanemi honestly wanted to throw his rice bowl to the back of your head. What the fuck were you on? Just what did you even mean? And how could you so foolishly convince yourself of something as impossible as succeeding?

“You think you deserve this? My brother's training is not rigid, y/n. It's brutal”, Genya's words were exuding concern, so you felt the need to smile again.

“He won't kill me, so please don't worry!”

Sanemi kept his alarmingly violent pace until one day, after three whole months, you successfully not only guarded but even pushed back one of his blows. And then, it happened again. You had grown accustomed to how his movements cut through the air around you, you had memorized each angle he jumped on you from and the exact way his wind would tickle your cheek before the blow landed.

It shocked him. That day, it took him ten whole minutes of attacks to brutally take you down again. Then you got up and fought him. Sure, you never even managed to graze him, but it wasn't a one way only battle anymore. You were making progress, under someone who had never given you a single ounce of actual guidance.

It started gradually, so slowly he never gave you the chance to feel any excitement.

“Don't bend your knees like that, dumbass”.

“Release the tension in your shoulders, idiot”.

“Are you trying to get yourself fucking killed? Watch your goddamn back!”

“Faster”.

“Harder!”

And then, one afternoon, on month four, he put down his bokken and looked at you, pale eyes met with a familiar stern gaze.

“Good”, was all he said.

Yet, you didn't allow your heart to fill but with a little, tiny bit of pride. You still weren't good enough and you knew you had a long way to go. To prove to your parents that you were ready to go through hell, if it meant proving them that even if they were probably right about the wrong sibling having been murdered by that demon, you were willing to atone for your sin of being still alive.

Month five, and you had started to have lunch with him. Your break was now half an hour long and you got to sit at his table, something he had rudely insisted on. “I swear your stupid ass will die of dehydration before any demon gets the chance to kill it”.

Sanemi looked at you way more often than he liked to, and that's how he noticed the first time. Yet, he didn't say anything. The second time, however, he had put his chopsticks down.

“What the hell is that?”, was the question that had made you look up from your food. You followed his gaze to the bruise on your arm and cleared your throat.

“Just my negligence, master Shinazugawa. I am still unfit to-”

“Don't give me that bullshit”, he interrupted you, fuming. God, why did you never talk to him? Just say something different for once? Something true?

“That shit's not from training. Tell me”, he demanded. I never grabbed you like that.

You shook your head.

“You are mistaken, master. It is from training”.

“I am ordering you to tell me, y/n”.

Of course he knew your name. Then why was it so weird to pronounce it out loud for the first time in five months? And why was it so strange to hear him saying it? It gave you an odd sense of security. He was acknowledging you. Yet, you were firmly determined to keep your private life completely separated from your slayer one. Especially from him. You didn't want him to know anything about you, about your past, motives, fears, suffering. You had to be nothing else but a student, an empty shell. You had to conceal everything else, because nothing else was as important as your training.

“With all due respect, master Shinazugawa, you cannot order me to tell you anything”.

Sanemi had to restrain himself from punching a hole in the table.

By month six, you almost never had to visit Shinobu anymore. Sometimes you'd do it anyway, especially if you knew that Genya was going to be there. He was the closest thing you had to a friend and you liked talking to him, as much as he liked talking to you. You were allowed one rest day per week, which was usually spent working if your parents asked you to be at the market in their place. But if they didn't, you usually visited the butterfly estate, hoping Shinobu would offer you that special green tea of hers.

Month seven and Sanemi had received another crow from Oyakata-sama. He knew he couldn't find excuses to refuse anymore. His master believed that enough time had passed for Sanemi to bring you on a mission with him, as part of your training, and he just couldn't write another she's not ready yet as a reply. So he brought you with him to the village, barking not to do anything in the slightest and just stand there watching. But neither of you had anticipated the presence of two demons. One of them successfully luring you far enough from his battle, so that he couldn't notice. You had followed a voice that was just so painfully similar to your brother's, a voice crying for help, sobs suddenly turning into maniacal laughter as it cornered you, claws and fangs in sight.

Too consumed by anger to even think about running, you drew the sword from your back. It wasn't your first time cutting a demon's head off, it was just your first time having to fight one completely on your own. Which explained the blood dripping to the ground from your stomach, from where its claws were planted just seconds before you killed it.

You had managed to breathe steadily enough to close the wound on your shoulder, but you weren't entirely sure you could to the same to stop the bleeding from your other injury.

He had found you sitting on the ground, back pressed against a tree, crimson dripping from the hands you were pressing on your stomach. Oh, he got so mad. His entire being burned with rage as he ripped part of his haori to tie it around your stomach, cursing, insulting you, mentally insulting himself for not having been able to face two threats at the same time. For being late. Just while he was trying to decide how to carry you, where to carry you to, he froze as one of your hands faintly reached his cheek, then his forehead, to gently smooth out his furrowed brows.

“Don't worry, master. It's dead. I did well”, you had managed to whisper before passing out, making him erupt in a new series of profanities as he picked you up and pressed your stomach on his back, running as fast as he could to the butterfly estate. I want to finish this year, was all he thought while sprinting across the trees. That and yes, you did well.

When you woke up, a day later, Shinobu was sitting beside you. She had gently informed you about your conditions and kindly congratulated you on the successful mission. When you tried to get up, muttering about having already skipped a whole day of training, her hands rested on your shoulders as she kept per gaze down.

“Shinazugawa-san has decided not to continue with your training”.

That was a low fucking blow. Too low, even for him. So what if you got injured? You did your job. There weren't any casualties. Hell, you were making progress. You weren't to accept such an unfair decision without fighting back, so you ignored all of Shinobu's protests as you slowly got up and made your way to his estate. At that pace, it took you five hours of walking to reach the familiar entrance. The sun was setting as you marched into the garden, where he was training on his own.

“I don't accept your decision”, you let out between gritted teeth.

“I don't give a fuck about what you do or don't accept”, Sanemi didn't even turn to look at you while you stood there, breathing heavily.

“But why? Is getting hurt considered a failure? I've been getting hurt for months. You can't do this just as I'm getting better at-”

“Getting better? It took you three months to guard for the first time and after seven months I still can't trust you on an easy, regular mission because you almost fucking died like a dumbass”, he barked, making you flinch.

Rage bubbled up in your chest as you walked over to him and snatched the blade he was holding. He let out an incredulous, mocking laugh.

“Fight me”, you growled, struggling to control your breathing. God, that wound was giving you hell.

“You can't be this much of an idiot”.

You drove the blade across his chest, not hesitating and doing it again as he easily avoided your clumsy attack. The blade was heavier than yours and it didn't grant you enough agility, so you let it fall to the ground as you decided to rely on your body instead. Your kicks cut through the air as you chased him across the garden, furious because he wasn't taking you seriously and wanted you to throw away seven months of hard work and still didn't consider you worthy enough. Tears blurred your vision as your fist was finally able to come into contact with his jaw. That's how much he doesn't care. He isn't even willing to properly attack me. Very well, then.

You quickly spun around, leg lifted, ready to land your right foot on his stupid cheekbone, but he was faster. Of course, he was faster. You were pinned to the ground in a split second, wrists held above your head, knees painfully pressing on your thighs as tears of anger and frustration rolled down your heated cheeks.

“You're bleeding, you fucking moron”, he panted, eyes almost reddened by how angry he was.

“Don't worry, I'll go find myself some other place to bleed out in peace. I won't die in your goddamn garden, master”, you spat. Hand around your wrists tightened, his jaw visibly clenched.

“Watch your fucking tone”.

“Why? You won. You're not my master anymore. Maybe I'll make you even happier and leave the corps, so you won't be my superior either. Let me go”, you wiggled uselessly under his iron grip.

So, this is finally you, he thought. The cracks of your impeccable discipline and deference had finally let something raw, real, leak through. His lips curled up in a pleased smirk and it was a good fucking thing you could not see it, face stubbornly facing his mansion, eyes avoiding his.

He didn't know, what had made him tell Shinobu that he was done training you. After spending almost 24 hours at her estate, impatiently waiting for you to open up those big, stupidly bright eyes of yours, he just felt that he didn't want to do it anymore. He didn't want to take you on missions, he didn't want to guide you towards a future of battles, injuries, death. He didn't give a fuck if you thought that it was the kind of path you wanted, no, you deserved.

Your unexpected progress had startled him. Your improvement gave him no escape. He had never met someone so ridiculously stubborn, burning with such determination to be willing to be beaten every single day, month after month. It had been hell, yet you kept up. Without disclosing a single fragment of yourself, you kept up. Sanemi had to gather some pieces and put them together on his own: he came to know about your friendliness and wit through Genya, discovered your kindness through everything Shinobu would ramble about while stitching him up. And then, there was everything else he had both guessed and witnessed during those seven months. Determination, fury, discipline, intelligence, endurance, talent.

He had already changed his mind as soon as he had arrived to his estate. Not even his stubborn temper would've been enough to convince him to disappoint Oyakata-sama, especially after making a commitment. He was well aware of how much he cared about him and the other pillars, especially about them guiding and helping other slayers. He took great pride in all of his children and had waited a long time for Sanemi to be willing to actually train someone, to pass his legacy on. He wasn't going to bail out on his master, truth be told he didn't want to bail out on you either. Not after everything you had willingly went through. Not after you had almost fucking died on him. Not after all your shared meals, your daily “good morning, master Shinazugawa” and your ridiculous “thank you for today's training, master Shinazugawa”, even with broken ribs or fractured ankle. Not after the first “excuse me, master Shinazugawa, are you okay?” when he had greeted you with bandages wrapped around his torso.

“Can you let me go already?”, you snapped again, your attempts at freeing yourself getting weaker by the minute.

Sanemi's eyes traveled to your stomach, specifically to the wet, red spot on your uniform. He let go of your wrists but kept you down, letting out an exasperated growl.

“I said, watch your fucking mouth”.

You scoffed.

“You're not-”

“I am your master and you will shut the fuck up if I tell you so. You will let me check that injury, then you'll eat something and go to bed, I will have the guest room prepared. I want you up before sunrise, we're gonna start practicing breathing forms tomorrow”. So you can learn how not to bleed out in my goddamn garden.

You were at a loss for words but, for the first time, you also failed to suppress a content smile. A smile that forced him to get up and look away. It took a very long time after that night for Sanemi to admit that he was guarding, during your dumb assault. He was guarding, and you still managed to land a blow on him.

Month eight and he was barely able to catch you during your training sessions. Even with a blindfold on, you could sense his movements well enough to avoid his attacks and successfully land a few on him. You were fast, even while using his heavy sword, so fast you were able to complete the one hundred round runs around his estate each morning and afternoon in half the time he expected you to.

Month nine and Sanemi had learned about your parents abusing you. You couldn't blame any more bruises on your training, so you had reluctantly told him that sometimes you disappointed your father and it was simply his duty to teach you a lesson so that you wouldn't make the same mistake again. He honestly didn't know what made him feel more furious: if your asshole parents or your stupid, familiar, self destructive mindset.

“You're gonna stay here”, he had decided one day, during your lunch break. You only ate and drank if he offered you something, which made him think that your parents didn't want you taking anything with you before you left the house. Christ.

“Where?”, you had asked, stunned.

“There's a spare room”.

“I really can't, master”.

Sanemi took a deep breath in.

“You're gonna stay here. Go get your things and come back by sunset, your training's finished today”.

The confusion was evident in your apologetic gaze.

“But... I don't think I have ever been late? I get up very early to be here on time, my house is not that far away and I-”

“I'm sick of you showing up here beaten and bruised and not willing to do shit about it. So I'll do something about it”, he snapped, eyes very much focused on his curry.

You didn't look at him either.

“I can't leave them”, you muttered slowly, too surprised to realize that, for the first time in almost a year, your master was showing some form of concern.

And so you told him everything about your stupid, pathetic life. You told him about your brother, the absurd beliefs you gave in to, the reason why you wanted to become a better slayer so badly. Sanemi hid his clenched fists under the table, listening in silence. Listening for a whole hour and then, incredibly, telling you in turn. Not everything, but enough. He was a man of his word, after all, and your training that day was already finished.

Sanemi was overly conscious of the fact that there were only three months left before he had to make a decision. He kept updating his master about your progress, always sharing nothing but the truth, with a bitter taste longing in his mouth, in the back of his thoughts, something that kept him up at night, especially if you happened to be there. In the end, you had partially accepted his offer, just after asking your parents for permission of course. Each week, you would spend the night at his estate for two days. The relief he felt, knowing that you would be far from your parents for a while, wasn't enough to soothe his spirit. Not when he could hear you, at night. Whether you quietly walked out of the bedroom next to his at 3am to go and sit on the engawa until sunrise just to greet him with a joyful “good morning, master! I woke up early today”, or you just screamed until you woke yourself up. He had always heard everything, never gathering up enough courage to confront you about it.

Sanemi wished for a world in which someone like you didn't have nightmares, didn't feel like they had to go through his infernal training to make up for the fact of being still alive. As much as he would've preferred getting stabbed a hundred times before admitting it, he also wished for a world in which he didn't have to go through all that shit either. A world in which he could've met someone like you under different circumstances. Someone who could have called him by his name at that point, no stupid ass honorifics, meals shared while having actual conversation, a household shared with you and his brother who maybe could have just a little bit made up for the loss of yours. Sanemi knew he couldn't make up for shit. Not for the way he had treated you, cause it wasn't far from what your parents had done. Not for the loss of your brother, cause he had never been a good one. And, well, he certainly didn't want to be a brother to you.

By month eleven, you knew you were finally good enough to officially become his Tsuguko and stay by his side. You felt like he knew that too. But was it going to be enough for him to... actually want you? Sparring sessions had become much shorter, he only managed to land a couple of blows on you each day and you were finally able to reciprocate. The rest of the time, he would sit and watch you practice all the katas he had teached you. Harsh corrections were still being barked your way, but you could tell that deep down he was actually satisfied with your progress. So you finally allowed yourself to feel some pride. What you didn't allow yourself, was to feel anything else. Not when your master had made it a habit to get up and sit with you in the middle of the night, not a word nor an explanation escaping his mouth. Not when he had remembered your birthday and had proceeded to shove a plate full of ohagi in front of you at the end of your training session. Not in the moment you had catched his half smile as he had watched you successfully master his breathing technique for the first time. Definitely not every time your heart would beat alarmingly faster whenever he was close enough your hands could've touched by accident.

What a disappointment, you were. The path you had chosen to undertake with such resolution and discipline, had brought you unexpected, unwanted feelings for someone you were supposedly going to become the successor of. It didn't help, the fact that he was everything he was trying so hard not to be. Your master was considerate, sharp, unfortunately extremely good looking as well. But he was also in pain. He was someone who constantly punished himself, someone who didn't care about his life as long as he could save civilians or other slayers. Someone who didn't think he deserved to have anything. Not friends, not a brother, not a family. No relief, nor happiness, ever. Your master was harsh, brutal, lethal. Then why was it so easy for you to see beauty in him? To seek more than his approval? Why did you hope so badly that you hadn't fooled yourself, all those times you saw him stare at you from the corner of your eye? Why did you so badly want to share the burden of your vulnerabilities, make them merge, discover if they were compatible enough to keep each other company?

Sanemi couldn't figure out how you came to know about his birthday, too startled to remember you were friends with Genya. He had brought his gift early in the morning, wished him a happy birthday, reminded him of how much he loved his older brother. Sanemi had rolled his eyes and reluctantly accepted the wolf carved in wood Genya had been so eager to give him.

“It kinda reminds me of you, aniki”.

“Cause I could slash your throat under the fuckin' moonlight?”

Genya had done his best to hide his surprise at Sanemi almost cracking what honestly sounded like a joke.

“Well, yeah”, he faintly smiled, “but mainly because of how strong and protective you are”.

“Whatever. Get lost now”.

But he couldn't ask you to get lost when after lunch you pulled out a basket of fresh fruit and what looked like a handmade journal with a leather cover. You had never smiled at him like that, in such an embarrassed yet cheerful way.

“I hope this is not inappropriate. The fruit is from our market, I believe you once said you don't mind peaches, and this is just something I have made last night cause I couldn't think of anything else as a suitable gift. Happy birthday, master!”, you extended the basket towards him, struggling to keep eye contact because you were frankly terrified of the possibility of angering him. On his birthday.

But Sanemi just couldn't be angry while accepting your gifts with a barely audible “thank you”. He had promptly put the basket aside, cleared his throat and urged you to resume your training, cause he wanted to take his time. That day, after you had left his estate, his hands had gently grazed the cover of the journal, having to resist the urge to destroy it. Why should I keep something like this, anyway? I can't even use it. Goddamn it, of all people you could've made this for. But of course, he didn't. He couldn't. He hated and he was so scared of just how much he couldn't.

Month twelve, and you were sitting on the engawa at reasonable distance from him, having accepted the suggestion of consuming your takoyaki outdoor. He had turned to look at the entrance of his garden first, suddenly so vigilant you had turned as well, anxiety and fear clenching your stomach. Neither of you could anticipate the white shiba inu that had trotted your way, tail wagging so much you failed to hide your smile.

“Where the hell did you come from?”, Sanemi's unusually soft tone as he let the dog sniff his hand almost shocked you. You couldn't help but get closer, still smiling.

“Oh, you're beautiful”, the dog had probably understood that your tone had implied a compliment, cause it barked happily as you gently scraped behind its ears.

“Master, do you think someone lost it?”

“I-”, Sanemi's reply was harshly cut short as the shiba decided that both of your laps were the ideal place for it to hop onto to take a nap. Your cheeks had definitely grown hotter as you had noticed just how close the position had brought you to him, shoulders grazing, both of your faces frozen in embarrassment. Well, you were embarrassed. He was probably just fuming.

“Uh, sorry. Maybe we could just get up? I don't think it would be a problem”, your suggestion was barely muttered, drenched in the hope of your master not snapping at you.

But Sanemi had done nothing but let out a heavy sigh, hands distractly traveling across the dog's soft fur.

“I would like you to stay here”.

You had turned to look at him, appalled, heart suddenly beating furiously against your ribcage.

“You... accept me?”, your voice nothing but a faint whisper.

The pause had been so long it made you think you had imagined his words. But then he looked up from his lap, not at you, just over his garden as if you hadn't been sitting the closest you've ever sat next to him.

“I still haven't decided that. What I mean is, I don't want you here as my Tsuguko. I just... want you here as you”.

Month twelve and you were on a mission with your master again, this time ready as ever not to disappoint him. Ready to face anything with him, really. Ready to face anything except that woman, once again so dangerously close to your village. The gorgeous woman who had lured your brother out of his house, left him alive, hurt him long enough to force him to scream your name over and over again, just to slash his throat the minute you had managed to reach them.

Sanemi knew the second your breath had hitched in your throat, as soon as your lips had lost pigment. He knew from the cold sweat your forehead had suddenly been covered in. Although he ached to get it done and get it gone quickly, he knew he should've let you have it. He was there anyway, ready to intervene.

“Get the bitch”, was the only thing he said and you just felt ignited. You had never cut a demon's head off so quickly, so lethally. For just a split second, Sanemi thought you were a sight to behold, practicing his breathing technique perfectly, angrily, fiercely. And then you fell apart, crumbling on the ground as ashes flew around you, some of them getting caught up in your hair.

Sanemi knelt in front of you, took the blade out of your hands and tossed it to the side.

“It's fine. You're fine. You did a good job”.

Your sobs just wouldn't stop as you hid your face in your hands, shaking, feeling so cold and so numb and so angry at how easily it had been over.

“I did it all wrong, she should've suffered, she should've known it was me”, you whispered and it broke his heart, the way he couldn't recognize your voice. We're all so fucking broken.

Sanemi didn't think, he just placed his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, holding in a sigh of relief as you grabbed his haori and clenched your fists around it.

“I'm proud of you”, he said, eyes still closed cause it was easier telling the truth in the dark.

It was strange, not feeling embarrassed when your forehead found his shoulder and he hesitantly placed a hand on the nape of your neck, allowing your tears and the blood that had splattered on your face to stain his haori. When he lightly turned his head to the side and his nose grazed your hair, he closed his eyes again. I wish I could've met you in a different way. I wish I could've treated you right.

Month twelve and Sanemi couldn't bear the thought of you getting hurt ever again. However, he never allowed himself to forget just how much he had hurt you either. It served as a reminder of how undeserving of whatever you were willing to give him, he was. Still, he knew you were willing to give. Weren't you always?

Month twelve, and you were a perfect fit to become his successor. But Sanemi hadn't changed his mind, he still didn't want to make you his Tsuguko, although for reasons that were entirely different from the ones he held when he had first met you.

[yoonpobs]

together | myg

pairing: min yoongi x singlemother!reader

genre: fluff, very soft fluff, domesticity

words: 5, 007

summary: min yoongi is a good man but even a better father ... figure

“Baby … what did we say about boundaries?” You crouch down to reach Jihoon’s eye level and the mini you—as said by your friends—simply ignores your oncoming lecture by staring at his feet.

“Limits …” He mumbles softly and all you want to do is hug him and tell him he can do no wrong but motherhood is tough despite all the online blogs telling you that they’re with you. You loved your baby, you really did—but God decided to fuck with you by making him the reflection of yourself when you were younger and you heard nightmarish stories from your parents from when you were growing up.

You run your hand over his hair soothingly because as much as he was like you, he was still only two years old and his own person, fluff and bread arms. You knew not to restrain him with furrowed brows or raised voices but instead with the patience your parents always taught you to have and the compassion that you wished you were naturally blessed with. But life had a funny way of taking away things from you.

Well—your ex-husband was never really taken from you—he left you, and instead of feeling shambled and distraught you were made of such resolve that you merely blinked when he packed his bags after he said he was cheating on you. The only sweat you broke was realising that Jihoon was only three months old when his dad left without sparing him another glance.

But your baby grew up and so did you. Your job at office paid well enough for you to live comfortably with Jihoon and hire nannies to look after him whenever you couldn’t; even though you tried your best to always be with him so he wouldn’t grow up resenting an absent mother. But you worried like anyone else would because while your friends and family would say you were doing an impeccable job, your self-sabotaging tendencies nagged at yourself by saying that he needed a male figure in his life.

He mumbles a soft apology, so respectful with his big eyes and you smile at him. You knew he meant no harm when storming into your office and scrambling off with important documents because he was still impressionable and curious about nearly everything. Your heart dropped when you realised your reports were pretty much incoherent with the way he doodled over them but you knew not to blame him.

“Forgiven Hoon.” You kiss his forehead.

His eyes turn into tiny slits with his toothless smile and your heart clenches at the little human you created and love dearly.

“Love you mama.” He plants a sloppy kiss on your cheek before waddling off to his playpen where his toys are laid neatly. If there was anything he inherited from you; it’d be your meticulous tendencies.

You sigh, leaning into the wall of your kitchen as you watch Jihoon with fond eyes as he plays with his dolls and figurines, dressing them in dresses and pants just like how you taught him that gender had no look and that everyone was different. Obviously, explaining the concept of social constructs to a two-year-old is not a conversation any parent would have with their child but you believed that these fundamental core values of humanity were important to his growth into his toddler stages and eventually adulthood.

“I can’t believe you squeezed that cutie out of your vagina.” Taehyung snorts, sneaking up behind you and you don’t flinch because you’re way too used to his unwanted comments and sudden appearances.

“I am 90% cute so it’s only right that my child inherits that from me.” You retort, eyes still trained on your baby boy.

Taehyung looks over at Jihoon who directs a mini-play of a loving family, and your heart is still sad at the prospect of his adolescent years only being with you.

“You know … hyung is asking about you,” Taehyung says and you immediately still in your position, hands freezing in your pockets because you know exactly who he’s referring too and you weren’t exactly ready for that conversation, especially with your older brother.

“He says he misses Hoonie.”

You sigh, turning your head to face your older brother and you can only muster enough emotion to look fine with his statement but you simply looked constipated with the way your face scrunches up.

“We’ve been busy …” You mutter.

“Jihoon is two-years-old and the only thing he’s busy with is trying not to give you a heart attack every time he nearly runs into the wall and you literally work from home now that your boss is some progressive liberal that tries a new system every two days,” Taehyung says dryly, pinning you with a deadpan.

“Stop offending me by insulting my son!” You whine.

“That’s my nephew too.” He rolls his eyes as you punch him in the shoulder.

“That has a name and it’s Jihoon you bitch.”

“Mama said beech?” Jihoon tilts his head in a curious manner and your expression morphs into one of mortification as Taehyung cackles in response.

“Stop. Laughing.” You hiss but it’s no use because your brother has never once listened to anything you had to say throughout the last twenty-nine years of your life.

“You—” Your snide is cut short by rapt knocks on your door, and you see Taehyung’s grin widen. You know that look intimately because it’s the expression he wears before he pisses you off or embarrasses you.

“He’s here!” He sounds delighted as he skips towards the door. You want to pull his back by his collar to ask him what the fuck he was talking about but he’s quick with his hands and the door is open. Your mouth falls and you nearly get whiplash with the way that you stare at your guest.

“Y-Yoongi.” He was possibly the last person you wanted to see and you had no idea what he was doing at your apartment at night on a weekday.

Then you see Taehyung’s pleased expression and put two-and-two together.

“___, hey. Taehyung said you needed help with Hoon tonight?” He offers a tilt of his lips because Yoongi was not an expressive man by any means. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have a good heart; that was far from the truth of the enigma that was Min Yoongi.

He was a good person and an even better friend. Although the two of you had tip-toed on the line between friends to something more than that, he never explicitly said anything about his interests to you. And you didn’t want to pressure him by saying anything because even though he was in his thirties and still very much single with a stable job as a surgeon at the top hospital, a two-year-old son is rarely what a man that appealing ever wants when looking for a relationship.

That was why you stopped replying to his texts or inviting him over to hang out with Jihoon anymore because Jihoon adored him so much and your poor heart couldn’t bear to see the two boys interact without an ugly flower called hope bloom in your chest. He only ever knew who you were because he and Taehyung were co-workers and probably only tolerated you by association.

You loved Jihoon and wanted the best for him. Even if that was Min Yoongi—you needed to protect your heart too.

“I did?” You tilt your head and Yoongi automatically notices the habit that you and Jihoon share. Taehyung is somehow next to you already and you know that because he stomps on your foot and shoots you a glare when you hiss.

“I did.” You cough.

“Mama?” Jihoon peeks his head through the divider between the kitchen and the common area, and his eyes immediately light up when he sees Yoongi hovering by the entrance.

“Yoongi!” He squeals as he speeds as fast as he can with his little feet towards the man in his scrubs who shoots your son with his gummy smile.

“Hey, buddy.” He picks your son up effortlessly and you know you’re staring but you rarely ever see men who are this patient let alone this good with children.

“Close your lips,” Taehyung whispers into your ear.

“I’m—that’s not what was happening …” You mumble, a blush appearing on your cheeks as you look away from the hugs and kisses that Yoongi gives Jihoon.

“I meant your other ones.” Your brother says dryly.

“Kim Taehyung—!” Your arms are already reaching for his neck to strangle him but Yoongi calling your name snaps you out of your anger.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?”

Your head snaps to Yoongi who now has Jihoon on his hip while he plays with the material of his scrubs. You hate how your heart flutters at the domesticity of the question and how Yoongi looks so much like a father to your son and a husband in your home.

You realise the dangerous daydream you’re falling into and shake your head to snap out of it before you hurt yourself even more.

“Us? No, we haven’t. Tae and I were planning to order in at our favourite place.” You tell Yoongi with a small smile.

You see the hint of a frown marring on his face but it goes as quick as it comes as he stalks towards you.

“Actually—” Taehyung cuts in before Yoongi can say anything, “—I have a … thing.”

He points his thumb towards the door and you curse him in your head so much that you hoped sibling telepathy was a thing so he could hear what you felt about him right now.

“You … do?” Yoongi asks.

Taehyung shrugs, as ambiguous as ever before ruffling Jihoon’s hair and offering a fist bump and a kiss before he approaches your door.

“Taehyung—” You grit.

“Bye, buddy! Yoongi.” He acknowledges the two other boys but not you and you know it’s because while Taehyung loved to annoy you, he knew you were a handful and quite literally the spawn of satan when you were angry and you weren’t just angry but livid.

“Get back here—!” And he’s gone before you know it, and even Jihoon mumbles a soft bye Tae samchon after he’s gone.

You sigh, resting your head against the frame of the door that was now shut in your face, stuck in your own house with the man that you’ve been helplessly pining over that looks way too at home with the way Jihoon plays with the softness of his black hair.

You turn around, closing your eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

When you open them, Yoongi has an eyebrow raised, placing Jihoon on his high-chair. And you don’t know why you found that act so hot but you couldn’t even set your own son down into that chair without him making a fuss but he only giggled cheekily when Yoongi did so.

“What for?”

He doesn’t sound angry, just genuinely confused. You purse your lips and walk towards Jihoon who was simply babbling to himself and grab a cloth to wipe at the appearance of a new stain on his shirt which you suspect he got from his playtime earlier, and you internally groaned at the fact that he probably found some food and decided that it would be a good addition to his play family.

“I know it’s really busy at the hospital this time around and Taehyung basically scammed you here … with us.” You fiddle with your fingers after you pick up a toy on the floor and pass it to Jihoon to keep him occupied as you have a much more … adult-esque conversation with Yoongi. While you made it clear to Jihoon that he didn’t necessarily have a father in his life because you owed him that much, you tried to steer far from conflict and turmoil so he wouldn’t have to grow up knowing only the lows of life.

Yoongi just … stares. And it’s unnerving because you could barely read the man in general and he was looking at you with a blank expression that only causes your anxiety to settle further into your bones. You’re thinking of about a million different ways to apologise or to spontaneously combust so you could save yourself from the scrutiny of Yoongi’s eyes. But before you can say anything and embarrass yourself, even more, he speaks.

“Do you think I don’t enjoy spending time with the two of you?” He frowns, and that’s the most expressive you’ve seen him throughout your entire friendship with the man. The fact that the first time he’s ever shown any explicit emotion around you is one of … disappointment … only makes you realise how far out of his league you were.

“N-No!” You shake your head, flustered at his tone. When you look at him, his face is much softer; a type of expression that shows longing but you aren’t quite sure why it’s there.

“It’s just … you’re busy, Yoongi. You’re a hotshot doctor at the best private healthcare facility in the city and you’re here spending the last night before the weekend with some pathetic single mom who still—by the way—can’t decide on how to brush my teeth just because it doesn’t feel right.”

Yoongi blinks at you, then he looks over at Jihoon and you’re confused for a second because it seems like he’s dismissing your mini ramble, but instead, he reaches out to Jihoon’s hand and bends down so he can look Jihoon straight in the eye.

“Hey, bud?” He calls out to Jihoon and your son looks at Yoongi with all the stars in his eyes.

Your heart softens at the interaction and notices how the way Jihoon doesn’t pull away when Yoongi reaches out to carry him in his arms again.

“Yoongi!” He squeals, squeezing the man’s cheeks between his chubby fingers and you can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm and the way that Yoongi resembles a cat.

“I need to ask you something.” He whispers as if it were only the two of the room and you stand on the opposite of them with your arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

Your son bobs his head up and down in agreement as he waits for Yoongi to ask him his question.

“Yoongi …” You trail off but he pays you no mind.

“Do you love your mama?” The question surprises you and your mouth opens and closes, and your emotions are all over the place because the question makes you feel nearly inadequate. The way that he asks the question prompts you to wonder if it seemed like what you were doing for Jihoon just wasn’t enough.

“What is this even about?” You snap, eyes narrowed at Yoongi but he still ignores you.

Jihoon nods his cute little head eagerly without a moment of hesitation after Yoongi asks his … what you would say—preposterous question.

“I love mama with all my heart. She’s the best!” Jihoon giggles into Yoongi’s shirt as he leans his head against his chest. You don’t know why his words make you choke up when he tells you he loves you every day but the reassurance that your son does indeed love you makes you feel like you can do anything. It was also probably the fact that you noticed Yoongi smiling fondly between the two of you.

“Do you think she’s pathetic, Hoonie?” He throws your words to your son and you scowl at Yoongi who is still keeping his act of ignoring you very much alive.

“Pathedic?” Jihoon tilts his head again and you almost coo at the slight lisp he has when he asks.

Yoongi chuckles warmly and offers you a small smile as if to tell you that you’d see soon enough before repeating himself to your son.

“Bad.” Yoongi settles.

Jihoon gasps in his tiny little way and frowns, looking over at you with a cute crumpled expression that makes your heart swell even more. The urge to hold your son increases tremendously but you were still confused and curious as to what Yoongi was getting at.

“No no no! Mama is the best, didn’t you hear?” Jihoon squabbles.

You bite your lip to refrain from smiling so wide and choke back the tears that well up.

“Mama always cooks yummy food and never yells at me! I always see other mama’s yelling at their babies but mama … mama loves me too, right?” He rambles off and you sniffle.

“Love you a lot, Hoon.” You say from a distance and Jihoon is satisfied with your answer.

You turn to look at Yoongi and sigh.

“What is this about, Yoongi?” You sound stern and he acknowledges that. He knows the situation is much more serious than what he perceives but he can’t help but observe how the furrow of your brows resembles a squirrel. The comparison makes him want to laugh because you were so cute even when you were angry.

“I have one more question.” He tells you.

You don’t say anything but watch the way he leans in closer to Jihoon with eyes more serious than you’ve seen before.

“You want to see mama happy?” Yoongi whispers so softly that you almost miss it.

Jihoon nods.

“Of course. Mama always makes me happy. But she looks … lonely.” Jihoon frowns a little and you can’t help but have a tear fall. Your baby boy was young but observant and had a heart of pure gold. You didn’t need anyone but Jihoon but—

“What do you think if she gave you a papa?” Yoongi asks and the question stills your entire body. You don’t even see the way Jihoon lights up at the proposition and you also miss the way Yoongi looks over at you once to gauge your reaction.

“Will you be my papa Yoongi?” The question is what snaps you out of your reverie to realise the situation you were in and the allusion of Jihoon’s question.

“Jihoon! You can’t just—say sorry.” You squeak but Jihoon doesn’t pay you any mind because his attention is all on Yoongi who is smiling as wide as he possibly can.

“Only if your mom says yes, Hoonie. If only she knew how much I liked her.” He tells Jihoon but he’s looking at you. Your eyes are wide at the confession and your hands fall limp by your side; not knowing how to respond to Yoongi’s sudden confession.

It wasn’t anything spectacular, and it didn’t cause butterflies to erupt like it was in the movies but the confession was so wholeheartedly Yoongi that you felt so … comfortable. A surprising yet welcoming emotion.

Jihoon looks over to you but you’re looking at Yoongi who looks at you with soft eyes.

“Say yes mama!”

Yoongi stands up from his position to walk over to your frozen state until your hands rest on his chest unconsciously. He looks down at you as his arms wrap around your waist to pull you flush against his body. You blush and avoid his stare when he tries to catch your eyes. You know Jihoon is watching and that makes you feel all the more flustered. It was like you were back in high school and you were ‘canoodling’ behind your parents’ backs.

“Y-Yoongi …” You try to push him away but he reaches his hands to wrap them around your own.

“I’m sorry but you can’t run away from me this time ___.” He teases.

You flush and look away.

“I wasn’t … running …” You mutter.

He chuckles and shakes his head that you feel strands of his hair against your forehead when he leans in closer to connect your forehead with his own.

“Okay.” He agrees. He doesn’t put up a fight and you hate how even when you’re the one that’s flustered he can make you feel … safe. Calm.

“I like you, dumbass. I would go as far to say that I’m in love with you but I know how scared you get so let’s settle for the baby steps first, yeah?” He says so casually that your eyes bulge out of your eye sockets comically.

“You c-can’t just …” You blubber, “Say that!”

Yoongi scoffs.

“I like you Kim ___.”

You punch him in the chest but he doesn’t even flinch.

“No you don’t …” You whisper.

You don’t look at him but you can feel his frown.

“And who are you to tell me how I feel?”

You sigh.

“Yoongi … I don’t know if you heard what I said earlier but you’re … you … and I’m just some other girl that you know because of Taehyung and I’m a mother of a two-year-old. You could literally be with anyone you wanted and I just … you don’t like me. You just—can’t.” You exasperate.

He frowns at you, forcing your chin up to look at him with his index finger. You burn even redder at how close you were.

“I love you. I love Jihoon. And you need to get out of your pretty little head because I don’t want to be with anyone but you. I don’t know where you’re getting this weird picture of me being with anyone I want because I don’t want anyone. I want this—I want in, in this little family.”

You feel yourself choke up, and Yoongi notices so he holds you closer until your head is against his chest.

“I’m emotionally constipated half the time I interact with anyone but you just … you make me feel alive and things that I generally don’t feel on a daily basis. You and Hoon are the only things that keep me going with all the surgeries and stuff. I’m in love with you and it’s all your fault and Hoonie wants you to be happy as much as I do—so please: stop running.”

“Why are you running mama?” Jihoon asks and you remember your son is watching it all.

You flush but don’t move from Yoongi’s grasp. He thinks of this as a step forward because all you do is turn your head to look at Jihoon and offer him a smile through your tears.

You and Yoongi hear Jihoon’s whine and you see him reach his arms towards you as a gesture for you to carry him.

“Mama why are you crying!” He cries.

You feel Yoongi release you and you immediately reach out to Jihoon like it was second nature because it was. Jihoon was the only thing that kept you going when people would give you odd stares as a single mother especially when you were starting to look into preschools for your son. All the superiors would question your legitimacy and income when you were earning more than the average working man. You were always very particular about who you allowed into Jihoon’s life because he was young and got attached easily. But Yoongi made it so … easy. Just like he was that missing piece in both your and Jihoon’s lives.

“I’m okay bubs.” You kiss Jihoon on his cheeks as you hold back your tears.

“Don’t cry, mama.” Jihoon frowns and puts his thumbs between your furrowed brows just like you would always do when he was starting to sulk. You chuckle and hold your son closer to your chest, feeling all the more comforted.

“I’m serious about this ___ …” Yoongi steps closer to you and wraps an arm around you and Jihoon and the action feels so utterly domestic. You feel safe and content within his grasp.

“Yoongi …” You look up at him through your eyelashes and Yoongi has always been entranced with your beauty. It was never just about how beautiful you looked when you were a mother to Jihoon but the energy you carried around you was contagious and he’s immediately lightened up in your presence. He was patient with you because he knew you were serious about Jihoon and that he was your number one priority.

“No, please … listen to me ___.” He cups your cheeks while Jihoon is looking between the two of you with keen interest.

“I know you’re scared because of Jihoon and that’s valid. But I don’t want you to think that you’re not enough for me for superficial reasons because the truth is I probably won’t ever be enough for you and you’re here being the woman of my dreams. I respect your decision if you aren’t ready for a relationship and I won’t push you but I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere just because we aren’t together because I rather have you next to me as a friend than lose out on you forever.”

You had always been a crybaby and Taehyung was probably the reason why you cried all the time as children since he always had been the more rambunctious one between the two of you while you were far timider. But Yoongi knew that under all the times you shed tears because you were touched is a strong-willed woman that could withstand nearly anything in this world if it were for her son.

“And I know that I’m not over my head thinking this but … you want me too and it’s okay if you do but you don’t want a relationship. I respect you as a person, a woman and the mother of Jihoon. I just don’t want you to push me away.” He whispers so softly when he looks into your eyes.

“Mama …” Jihoon whines and you look down at him for a moment when he gives you a glare that doesn’t look so intimidating because of his bread cheeks.

“Yoongi is fun! Can he be our daddy?” You know his choice of words didn’t necessarily entail that context for you in particular but you blush anyway because he was just two. Yoongi senses your flustered state but squeezes your cheeks in between his hands and you feel coddled. It was a new feeling, one that was almost unfamiliar with how long you’ve been deprived of a significant other’s touch.

“I—Yoongi … I really don’t know what to say …” You mumble.

Yoongi smiles at you, comforting and homey all at once because Yoongi was a lot of things but never pushy.

“You don’t have to say anything. I don’t know if you realised this but I’m basically Hoon’s dad whether you like it or not because he and I spend more time together than I do with my colleagues at work and I work overtime all the time.” He teases.

“Jihoon really adores you.” You agree, biting on your lip as your mind races for the hundredth time this hour.

You liked Yoongi. You really did—and somewhere along the way, like turned into something more … dangerous. A territory that you usually reserved for Jihoon because you only had the capacity to care for one boy in your life but Yoongi smuggled his way into your heart and here he was causing a hurricane in your stomach.

The words he spoke were so truthful and genuine that you can’t help but believe that against all odds in the universe, Yoongi has somehow chosen you. You were the one that was afraid. He has always chosen you. That enough is shown when he makes his way after tiring shifts just to lay on your couch and play with Jihoon in times where all he could do was babble incoherent words. He chose you when he made surprise visits with the homemade stew that you knew he knew your son and you loved. He chose you when he invited you and Jihoon to spend Chuseok together because you mentioned just spending it with your son than with your family. His parents adored you and were even more taken with Jihoon.

He has always chosen you but now it was your turn.

“I love you.”

You say those words without much further thought because you’ve always felt it. Three words have never felt so safe on your tongue to utter into the atmosphere and you feel the same after the truth is out there. You always knew how you felt and you knew that Yoongi was smart to observe your feelings too, which was why when you finally said it he just looked … content. Happy—like he was in a place that was so familiar and comforting that he didn’t need to react any differently.

“I want—I want to be with you.” You clear your throat, “If you’ll have me.”

You look so shy and young—because you were. But you had that childlike innocence that he’s only ever had the pleasure to see when you would play fight with Jihoon. He feels his chest swell with pride knowing that he was the reason you looked like that and felt the way you did.

“Hmm … should I?” He leaned in closer until his breath was on your cheek.

You knew he was teasing you but you still can’t meet his eyes, and Jihoon simply giggles at the way Yoongi squeezes him between your chests in a way so comforting that Jihoon feels like it’s a warm hug from a blanket.

“Don’t tease …” You grumble.

Yoongi runs his hand through your hair and pulls your head closer to his to give you a gentle kiss on the lips. It was nothing seductive or implicative but so Yoongi. A kiss to show you he wanted this and that he felt whatever flurry of emotions you felt. A kiss like he was coming home.

He pulls away and you see Jihoon frowning between the two of your through your redness and shock.

“I wanna’ kiss too!” He whines, and you and Yoongi both look at your son with the stars in your eyes, then lock eyes with each other; and you do what comes naturally next.

You both kiss your son on the cheeks.

[skiyoosmi]

if fate permits

⤷ chapter twenty six: spotlight

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It was no surprise to people who always saw Atsumu that his eyes were constantly filled with a glitter that just managed to shine regardless of whether it was day or night. Volleyball, volleyball, and volleyball - perhaps, if you take time to ask these people what they think is the reason for that glitter, that would be their only answer. To those who truly knew him though, their answer might just be a tad bit different. Sakusa YN - from the moment he met you up to the present, a certain gleam seems to appear whenever you are the center of the topic. At least, that’s what Osamu has observed.

Kiyoomi concluded it’s just him unconsciously being a hopeless romantic for you. The grey haired lad remembers him saying it was pathetic, as always. But then again, he couldn’t deny the truth behind your brother’s words.

That said, he also knows that no one would have expected the same set of bright eyes to dull its sparkle. Unfortunately for the two of them (or three if you count Kiyoomi based on how often he visits the two of them now), you managed to take it away from him. There in the couch where you once sat during movie nights laid Atsumu, staring at the endless nothing, tears occasionally welling up his eyes as he remembers you, the way you looked at him as strangers do - empty, loveless, cautious.

It was karma. No matter how many times he tries to repeat it himself, it just doesn’t ease the thorns that prick his heart every millisecond that passes and every time, he just feels so sorry because he knows you felt the same pain before. How have you managed to get through it for more than twenty years? He has no idea because he sure as hell won’t be able to last one more day with it. Still, he can’t do anything but sit, mull over his self-sabotaged fate.

As he drowns himself deeper into his misery, a series of vigorous knocks disturb the twins’ “peace.” Osamu furrows his eyebrows together, a sense of oddness and urgency coming to him because Kiyoomi doesn’t knock that way - even when it comes to announcing his presence, your brother tries to be as prim and respectful as possible, knocking only thrice before waiting for the door to be opened, another three when he thinks no one heard him from the inside. Hence why the continuous knocks annoyed the grey haired.

Still, he begrudgingly sauntered towards the door and opened it, mouth ready to scold the person in front of him but he got beaten to it, “Where’s Atsumu?”

In her usual get up, Yui stood, a very much obvious fake smile plastered on her face and Osamu wanted nothing but to grab her hair and drag her to the deepest parts of hell for making you suffer (no one gets to do that except for him, he’s the only one who has the ‘drinking buddy and best friend’ privilege’).

Mentally, he took a deep breath before mustering the most sincere smile he can give her (it’s strained and forced, he knows it deep down), “Hello, Yui-san. I don’t think today’s the best day to-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Yui shoved past him and walked inside the house, acting as if she owned it. Osamu watched her trudge her way towards the living room in disbelief, fists clenching so hard it was painful already. Oh dear lord, please… just for today, let me strangle this woman… I’m willing to spend the rest of my life in jail if it means I get to do that for YN.

“Atsumu-kun!” She squeals upon seeing the blonde, ungracefully throwing her whole body to him, much to his shock (and annoyance).

“Y-Yui? What the fuck?” He shoves her away from him and backs up, creating a space which makes Osamu cheer quietly and form a devilish smile. Obviously not expecting the unappreciated response to her actions, she huffs, “You didn’t have to push me that hard, jerk Atsumu! That hurt me!”

“Yui-san…” Atsumu sighed exasperatedly, “I’m not in the mood, okay? Just… just leave, please?”

Yui’s smile disappears from her face and soon, an angry expression replaces it, “You’re such an ungrateful asshole, Miya. I’m busy and here I am, making time for you and you’re telling me to leave? Me?! THE Yui you wanted so much before? How dare y-”

“I didn’t ask you to come here, didn’t I? Just fucking read the room, Yui. I don’t like you here, not right now, not ever. I’m sorry but whatever I thought before, I was wrong. So just fucking leave,” he spat, patience running dry because all he wanted was sulk his life away in the couch.

As if finally being enlightened by the current situation, Yui begins to laugh, “Oh. my. god. Did she finally tell you? Wait… did she actually cut your thread? That’s why you look so miserable right now?”

Atsumu stands up from the couch, disbelief all over his face, “You knew?!”

The girl continues to holler her ugly laugh, “Ah, so hilarious! Of fucking course, Atsumu! One look at her pathetic face and I knew. Hell, I didn’t even need a Moira to figure it out. It was so fun, acting all sweet with the clueless you… and there she is, on the verge of tears every time!”

She wipes the fake tears away from her eyes, “But I guess she got tired too. I mean… you’re just so dumb, Atsumu. So hopeless and so easy to play with,” her fingers trace his jawline, rolling her eyes and snickering when he slapped it away from him.

“Now that I think about it again, you two shouldn’t have played Cinderella. You fit more into the criteria of Sleeping Beauty… you’re like Aurora, was it? But like, without the cure of a kiss because you ruined your true love! That’s my curse for you!”

The blonde grits his teeth, tears uncontrollably falling down his cheeks despite his desperation to stop them. Yui sees it and lets out a fake coo, “Aww, look at you, crying. You must be feeling so guilty, huh? It’s okay, I’m here… I can be the princess you’ve always wanted. You just have to behave like the foolish little prince you are.”

Osamu curses, taking a step forward to drag the girl out of their home but a voice stops him from doing so, “Is it fun? Playing with people’s fates like toys?”

Yui and Atsumu whip their head towards the source of the voice and Osamu is filled with relief upon seeing your brother standing, an unamused look on his face. Clearly liking the attention she was getting, Yui replies, “Ooh, what are you all? Avengers for YN? Protection squad or something? But to answer your question, yes! I’m enjoying it very much… but that doesn’t concern you, does it, Sakusa-kun?”

Kiyoomi paused for a second, removing his shoes and leaving them by the door, walking nearer the two, not too close but just enough to show her his height and intimidate her somehow, “You’re right, it doesn’t. If anything, I’m glad it’s all over now so my sister doesn’t have to suffer in between your acts of foolishness. But for some reason,” he trails off, looking down at her and throwing a look of disgust, “I pity you - because your fate is just as fucked up as theirs - your soulmate doesn’t remember you too and looking at you right now, something is telling me that you regret it too… because you have no one left. No Iwaizumi, no Atsumu.”

Judging by the way she glared at him, Kiyoomi feels a sense of accomplishment for hitting right on the nail.

“You-!”

“How unfortunate, Yui-san… the spotlight is not on you anymore.”

Silence filled the house right after Yui rapidly walked out of the house, a string of curses for your brother flowing out of her mouth. But Kiyoomi couldn’t care any less; instead, he turns to Atsumu who was already looking at him in awe before snapping off his thoughts and mumbling, “Omi… uhm… thank you.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” is the only thing he replies, “I won’t do anything for you...”

Atsumu swallows harshly, the bitter truth making it hard for him to do so, “Right.”

“... at least not anymore after this one,” he finishes, handing the blonde some neatly folded documents. Osamu smiles from where he stood, side-leaning against the doorway leading to the kitchen, as if he already had an idea what the papers were for. His twin’s eyes scan them and as if by a miracle, a familiar glitter appears in them, accompanied by a hopeful expression as he lifts his head and looks at your brother.

“Omi, this…”

“Be ready in three months. I hope you’re not scared of riding planes.”

note. i'm so sorry for the very very long gap between these updates T_T i swear i'll try to update more frequently now, at least school's being less of an ass these days (don't say sike pls)

[chaoslifeforme]

*Spoilers*

We all know Blitz has no trouble explaining himself.  In fact, he tends to over share except when it comes to emotions and caring. The fact that he doesn't ever explain why he traversed several circles of hell and maxed Verosika's credit card on horse riding lessons, got me thinking.

Horse riding lessons don't seem like they'd be super helpful for his day to day (like stealing the grimoire was). I mean he has a car, why would he need to ride a horse? This means the lessons were probably for some grand scheme of his.

Also, Verosika appears on his bad trip in Truth Seekers but it's not her anger she fears. This imaginary version of her is crying and that is what bothers him most. Thus meaning, he didn't want to make her cry or sad.

What truly makes me think this wasn't a run of the mill Blitz self sabotage, Is the fact he's prone to failed grand gestures for the one's he cares about. From stalking Moxxie and Millie for company, to offering snacks, water and guns during a fight, to being super over protective of  Luna. He's always trying to get people to stick around despite him being a dick.

Because he doesn't explain why he did it, the lessons aren't useful to him, he is most uncomfortable with crying Verosika, and grand gestures are his thing.... I think what ruined Blitz's relationship was a poorly planned grand romantic gesture. Perhaps even a failed proposal.

I imagine it being revealed during some sort of huge hell wide fight.

Robert (some random stable owner), goes up to Blitz and says:

"How'd the moonlight horseback ride, song and proposal go?"

Blitz, while ripping a bunch of randoes heads off:

"It didn't".

Verosika, somehow nearby hearing all of this and recognizing the owner of the stable where Blitz maxed her credit card:

" THAT'S FUCKING BULLSHIT! WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST FUCKING TELL ME THAT?!"

Blitz, trying to cover his tracks:

"I wasn't going to propose"

Robert:

"In that case you owe me the 50000 discount back"

Blitz:

"I MEAN I WAS. shit. It was just a bad fucking idea okay!"

Verosika:

"Why the fuck would proposing to me be 'a bad fucking idea!'. 

Blitz:

"It was doomed to fail, you were a successful popstar..(Cue viscious glare from Verosika) STILL FUCKING ARE..Jesus this is painful..and I was a failed circus clown. You would've gotten rid of me eventually.. It's better this way Vee."

Verosika:

"OH NO NO NO ASSHOLE! YOU DON'T GET TO MAKE DECISIONS LIKE THAT! IF YOU HAD JUST EXPLAINED YOURSELF LIKE A NORMAL PERSON-

Blitz:

"AND THEN FUCKING WHAT, ARE YOU SERIOUSLY SAYING THINGS WOULD'VE GONE DIFFERENTLY *insert super viscious triple kill* I ABANDONED YOU IN A HOTEL AND MAXED OUT YOUR CREDIT CARD ON HORSE RIDING LESSONS.. it doesn't really matter why.

Verosika:

I would've said yes you stupid DICK!"

Luna *hyperventilating and still killing things*:

"Verosika Mayday could've been my mom!"

Blitz:

"Keep breathing my sweet Looney"  *Cue realization* "WHAT?! ... (he looks over with a lost expression) Why?"

Verosika:

"It doesn't matter now. But for the record, you're still the best fuck I've ever had you big dick."

Luna:

"Verosika Mayday just said my dad was the best fuck she's ever had!" *barfs all over everything and continues heaving*

Blitz (taking out all Luna's opponents and handing her a juice box):

"You weren't so bad either, babe."

Verosika:

"You know damn well I'm the best you've ever had!"

Blitz:

"Comparing yourself to the prince of hell now, are you?"

Verosika:

"ARRGH!" (And storms off)

Luna (simultaneously):

"I don't want to fucking hear this!"

Stolas (somewhere on the fringes having seen everything grumbling to himself):

"What does she have that I don't! I'm the prince of Hell for Lucifer's sake! I'm the one he should be doing grand gestures for.. I mean I wouldn't get mad if Blitz maxed my credit card"

Blitz (having only heard the last part):

"Good to know, sweet cheeks. I'll be sure to max your credit card someday, I mean those toys you like don't come cheap."

Stolas:

"BLITZY! How much of that did you hear!?"

Blitz:

"Only the part about the credit card, don't get your panties in a twist, hot stuff."

[wasabito]

Babysitting the JJK First and Second Years (+ Gojo)

my granny was like the neighborhood babysitter back in the day, so this is just something quick and silly based on my memories 🤣

yuji itadori

a notorious snack thief 

very, very cute (chubby cheeks, big brown eyes, missing teeth, just so adorable~)

probably follows you around and asks if he can help you do things, but he’s literally a walking disaster, so you keep him away from the kitchen, and any electronics, and your bedroom, and, and the list goes on

the type to overshare and expose his parents on accident

says things like “my mama said we can’t come over anymore cuz your mom evades taxes”

megumi fushiguro

stubborn as hell and has a little mean streak too. honestly, he’s just not good with people other than his family yet, it’s okay

he’s not a busy-body like yuji, but definitely has a smart mouth that gets him in trouble with adults

glares a lot, and i mean he looks you up and down, then walks away only to glare at you from afar cuz he misses his parents and sister

pretends like he doesn’t care about anything until you bring out cookies and he’s like 👁👄👁 “c-can i have some?”

nobara kugisaki

such a smarty pants! and calls herself ‘big girl’

compares you to her mom in that innocent way that kids do, but it always somehow sounds shady like, “hmm,,, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

surprisingly agreeable once you get past her brutal honesty (and it is very brutal)

independent and sorta self-sufficient - she helps you reign in the other children too

the social butterfly who invites the quiet kid to play with her

maki zenin

chaotic neutral in its truest form

play fights and wrestles with you, but she’s actually being serious (guard your groin and face, i beg of you)

catch phrase is “i did my chores already, so can i go outside now? 🙄”

slips up and drops the f-bomb one too many times because she heard it on reality tv

would miss curfew on purpose. you really can’t control her, so who’s babysitting who at this point?

toge inumaki

a very cute, very small child

so, so goofy - he makes you laugh at least once every hour

kinda lures you into a false sense of security with his quietness

well-behaved on his own but anyone can easily light his fuse

has his own food packed, but will insist on eating yours instead. don’t be shocked when this tiny kid eats you out of a house and home

panda

often the one who gets blamed for things he didn’t do (but you know the truth)

super duper shy at first

a cuddle bug; accidentally calls you mom/dad

probably cried the first time he was left at a babysitters, because he thought his parents didn’t want him anymore

the first one asleep when it’s time for a nap, and doesn’t wake up until hours later

BONUS

satoru gojo

that one little kid who has a crush on his babysitter

hates it when your friend comes over because he wants all of your attention for himself

did you think he was above sabotage?? please, he hasn’t changed much, i’d say

flirts with you by showing you his model lego airplane. are you impressed yet? lmao

probably says things like “when can we go on a date? i like parks, do you like parks? 👀”

thank you so much for reading! likes and reblogs mean a lot ♥️

[matthewtkachuk]

problem - jj maybank

being friends with pope heyward unfortunately means suffering through more interactions with jj maybank than you’d ever ask for. except, what was that phrase about the line between love and hate?

warnings: none

pairing: jj maybank x reader

word count: 1.5k

a/n: i said i was done with the boat show, but @outerbankslut​ deserves the best secret santa gift i can offer her. happy late christmas and i hope you like it honey!

JJ Maybank is annoying. He talks a lot, never really knows when to shut up. Usually, the things he says have little value and yet somehow even less substance. More times than not, his words are careless insults, things said purely to pick at you and drive you mad. You’re usually the better person, can usually let things like that roll right off your back.

And yet, it gets under your skin so badly it has you spitting words of vitriol at him yourself, turns you into some kind of monster whose only goal in life is to bring JJ down. This is not entirely against your neutral persona; however, it makes you seem more high strung than you really are.

You’re Pope’s friend, first and foremost. More a lover than a fighter, more akin to Pope’s natural, bookish tendencies than his reckless side that you only see coming out when he’s around his other best friends. Come summertime, you see a lot more of the other side, as most of your hangouts with Pope take place with the pogues in the background.

You have no problem with the rest of Pope’s friends; they all try their best to make you feel welcome. Kie gets you a job at her family’s restaurant, and the two of you bond while dishing out food and dealing with the complaints of entitled kooks and touron parents alike. John B offers you his couch when you’re too tired to bike home, and Sarah turns out to be a stronger confidant than you had initially assumed based on her family’s socioeconomic status.

JJ remains elusive.

You don’t really remember a time where you ever found JJ Maybank to be anything but childish and stupid. From the earliest days you were aware of who he was - even back in the second grade, he couldn’t help but run his mouth in a way that you found highly insulting - you couldn’t stand the boy. He didn’t grow out of it the way that Pope and your other friends did. To you, JJ was the same immature little boy who once shoved your face in mud and ate worms.

He shows it again when you show hesitance about joining them on the boat for the afternoon. There’s a lot you could be doing at home, or you could pick up a shift at your second job, or you could get a head start on your summer reading - if you were going to get out of this dead-end town, you needed to work really hard to secure a full ride.

“What’s the matter, Bookworm can’t hang?” comes from JJ’s mouth as you’re preparing to turn them down. It causes anger to flash across your face, and Pope’s stepping forward to try and get between the two of you.

You just shrug them both off and get on the boat, using Pope for leverage. “Never said that.” You’re not sure what point you’re trying to prove or who you’re trying to prove it to, but you feel the need to all the same. 

There’s an awkward silence as you sit between Pope and Kie, one that she tries to fill as she offers you a drink. Again, you’re hesitant, and again JJ picks up on it, scoffing before you even have a chance to respond. You turn on him with a glare, “spit it out, Maybank.”

“Nothing, I was just thinking that it was stupid to offer. We all know you’re going to turn it down.” And, well, he’s not wrong, but the way he thinks he knows you or something is so annoying you almost grab a beer just to spite him. But, despite your need to prove him wrong, you’re not going to do something you don’t feel comfortable doing just because some idiot says you won’t.

“Sorry, we don’t all need alcohol in order to have a fun time,” you roll your eyes and grab a bottle of water instead, chugging the contents and ignoring the way JJ is looking at you while you do.

He laughs, but you ignore him in favor of turning to Kie and striking up a conversation with her about water conservation. JJ doesn’t like being ignored, and you know that choosing to not engage with him further will frustrate him more than any barbed insult you could ever throw his way. When John B finds a suitable place to drop anchor, you and Kie lie side by side on the bow of the boat, chatting quietly while the boys mess around in the water. That is until you’re both doused in water by one not at all sorry-looking JJ Maybank. 

Kie just screams and laughs, shouting his name as she leans over the boat to splash him back. You’re pissed, though. For some reason, this is the final straw for you.

“What’s your problem with me?” you snap finally, voice cracking with all the emotions laden in it.

He avoids your gaze, shrugging and speaking, “I don’t have a problem with you.”

It’s evasive, and it’s annoying. “Bullshit,” you snap again, “you’ve had a problem with me forever, so what is it?”

He just scratches at the back of his neck, gaze roaming the waves rather than meet your eyes. You roll your eyes again, so frustrated and tired with this old song and dance as you repeat yourself, “What’s your problem?”

“Guys-” Kie tries to mediate between you as John B and Pope scramble back on the boat. 

“Not now, Kie!” you shout from your place on the boat. 

She just sighs a little, clearly as fed up with your behavior as the other two boys on the boat. “You asked for this,” she warns before suddenly you find yourself in the water beside JJ. 

Sputtering, you flail your arms and legs to keep yourself afloat. The truth is, you’re not the strongest swimmer. It’s not like you’re going to drown out here or anything, but it’s going to take a lot of effort to keep from doing so. “What the hell, you guys?” 

JJ seems to have caught on more quickly than you have, as he yells up at them, “Don’t do this!”

You spin in the water to glare at him, “do what? What the heck is going on?”

“It worked for us!” Sarah shouts as you hear the boat engine turn over. Suddenly you’re furious.

“Don’t you dare!” you yell out, head snapping to Pope, “you’re dead to me if you don’t let us back on that boat this instant.” He just kind of shrugs and half-heartedly waves to you as the boat begins to pull away. 

“Now look at what you’ve done! You just couldn’t leave me be for one stupid afternoon, huh?” You’re pissed at JJ, pissed at Pope and the other pogues. You’re also pissed at yourself for how good JJ looks as he effortlessly floats beside you. 

“Hey, this wasn’t just me, Bookworm. You didn’t have to start yelling at me.” JJ is so calm it’s infuriating, and it makes you want to drown him. You don’t, of course, they don’t offer full-ride scholarships to felons after all.

“You pick at me literally every second of every day, and you’re going to blame me for yelling at you?” you ask incredulously. “Seriously, how self-unaware are you?” He doesn’t answer you again, and the frustration just explodes out of you like the volcano you’d won the fourth-grade science fair with despite JJ’s sabotage attempt with half a bottle of mountain dew. “I’m not going to ask again. I will swim all the way back to shore if I need to. What. Is. Your. Problem. With. Me?”

It’s like a switch flipped on JJ then, some sort of fuse just lit, or some circuit just broke. “You’re my problem, Bookworm! You’re too pretty, and funny, and smart; it drives me crazy. I just want to make you feel as crazy as you make me feel!” 

Your jaw drops, and the seconds tick by as his words enter your consciousness. Suddenly, you laugh - harder than you ever have before, head tilted back, eyes closed, entire body shaking with laughter, laugh. “You don’t think you drive me crazy? Surely you know what you look like? And you’re always so happy and carefree. I wish I wasn’t so hung up on everything and could just enjoy the moment like you do.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he says immediately after you’re done speaking, never one for silences or quiet. 

You shake your head in disbelief before something occurs to you. “Did you just call me pretty? Do you have a big crush on me, JJ?”

“What? No,” he sputters loudly.

“You wanna kiss me so bad, don’t you?” you taunt a little, more flirtatious than malicious, and he picks up on it right away.

Perking up, he says, “maybe I do?” 

As he’s kissing the life out of you in the middle of the water, you think to yourself maybe you wanted to kiss him, too.

[flowercrown-bard]

Sour Stench and Sunshine Scent - Part 1/2

pairing: Geraskier (platonic or romantic)

word count: 2k

content warnings: self-depricating thoughts, invasion of privacy, angst

summary: In order to make sense of all the strange things he smells Geralt writes them down in a journal. Jaskier reads said journal and he is not  happy about what he finds

also on AO3

next part

It happened again.

Of course it did. At this point Jaskier almost made a game out of springing affection on Geralt and watching his eyes widen and his nostrils flare as if he had no idea how to react.

So it was no wonder that when Jaskier slung his arm over Geralt’s shoulder as they sat at camp, Geralt looked as confused as could be, but at least he didn’t pull away as he had in the earlier years of their friendship. Jaskier was almost certain that Geralt was even leaning in a little as if he wanted to push his nose into the crook of Jaskier’s neck, before abruptly pulling away.

Jaskier sighed when Geralt got up and started rummaging through his bag. Yet another part of their little dance. At least they had reached a point where Geralt was now openly scribbling away instead of making up some excuse as to why he needed to get away only for Jaskier to later find him writing frantically in his little notebook.

“Now that’s just unfair,” Jaskier said lightly and leaned in. His heart skipped a beat when Geralt didn’t try to shield his notes from him, but he didn’t offer to let him read the book either. “You keep writing in that little journal of yours and yet you never give me enough details about your hunts when I want to write.” He nudged Geralt playfully with his shoulder. “Are you trying to sabotage me because you’re secretly a poet as well?”

Geralt grunted and snapped the book shut. “Not a poet.”

Jaskier snorted. “Could have fooled me.”

For a moment Geralt was quiet, then he let out a long-suffering sigh, his shoulders slumping.

“It’s something Vesemir made me do. After the trials.” Geralt put the notebook back into his bags and it looked as if he only did it to avoid Jaskier’s eyes. “I woke up to a world filled with more intense sensations. Seeing bette was weird but fine. Hearing others’ heartbeats was disturbing but I got used to it. But having heightened sense of smell… it’s strange. Disorienting. It doesn’t make sense.”

Jaskier stilled. As much as he was tempted to make a joke about onions, heroics and heartbreak, Geralt’s tone made it clear that now was not the time for such things. He rarely ever talked about the trials and Jaskier wasn’t going to be insensitive, lest Geralt shut him out once more and think he woudln’t be able to find comfort in sharing his worries.

“So you write down what you smell and what it means?”

Geralt gave a brusque jerk with his head that mimicked a nod.

“But you became a witcher decades ago.” Which didn’t mean the trials weren’t still haunting him. Jaskier had seen first hand how Geralt tensed an whimpered in his sleep, though he never admitted to having nightmares.

Jaskier reached out slowly. He knew Geralt’s reflexes were faster than any humans and he could pull his hand away no matter how fast Jaskier moved, but he felt it was impossible to show Geralt that he gave him the option to not be touched.

Geralt didn’t pull away and Jaskier gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’d have thought you’d have gotten to smell all there is by now.”

Geralt snorted and raked his free hand through his hair in frustration.

“I thought so too. But then –“ his eyes landed on their joined hands before his intense stare shot back to Jaskier, searching his face and clearly coming up with nothing he could make sense of. “You smell different and I can’t put my finger on what the fuck you smell like.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up. “You have pages dedicated to me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

A smile tugged at Jaskier’s lips. “Good. Because if you did then you could just ask me about it.” When Geralt scowled at him, Jaskier gave him a wink. “But since you don’t… well, I guess you’ll just have to figure it out on your own. Don’t worry, if you ever do wonder what I smell like, you’ll have more than enough time to realise what it means. I’m not going anywhere.”

--

Jaskier was bored. Maybe he should have just stayed back at the tavern and sung his heart out when Geralt had told him that he’d go on a hunt. At least then, Jaskier would have had things to do.

But no. He just had to insist on accompanying Geralt. And now he wasn’t even able to watch the fight because Geralt had insisted that he should stay back.

Jaskier just knew that when Geralt come back he would be too grouchy to tell him about what happened. And to think Jaskier was apparently inspiration enough for Geralt to start writing in his witchery little notebook again and here Jaskier was mercilessly drained of anything he could make into a song.

Unless…

“Oh, stop looking at me like that, Roach,” Jaskier said when he began searching through her saddlebags. “He is writing about me. I have every right to know what he says about my smell. Maybe I’ll finally find out which of my perfumes he likes the most.”

Roach didn’t stop giving him a judgmental stare and Jaskier determinedly ignored the flash of guilt he felt at going through Geralt’s things. The uncomfortable twist in his stomach was quickly overruled by the excitement of finally finding the notebook.

For a moment he just looked at the old and frayed edges of the book. It was clear that it was well-loved despite or maybe because of how old it was.

Carefully so as not to tear any pages Jaskier stared reading, his heart pounding in his chest.

His excitement quickly dimmed. The first couple of pages were utterly boring. Lists of flowers and food and what they smelled like. Things so easy to identify that even Jaskier knew how to distinguish between them.

He skipped the next few pages until his eyes caught something that piqued his interest. The neat lists had stopped and in their place was a wall of text that looked like Geralt had just written down everything that came to mind without trying to sort through it.

‘The fuck is this? It’s bitter somehow? Sour. Rotten. Leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Like ash? Needed ale to get rid of it, but the longer I stayed in the tavern the stronger it got.’

Jaskier’s brows drew together. This was still relatively at the beginning of the book. It must have been written during Geralt’s first year on the path. In the light of these frantic and confused notes, it started to dawn on Jaskier what Geralt had meant when he had said the heightened sense of smell had been disorienting.

‘the stench is all around all the people I meet in this town. But it’s also the first town i’ve come across. Sickness? Is that just what people smell like? Everyone smells like that. Smell always accompanied by racing hearts and sweat. People try to leave. They stare at me but when they see me lookign they avoid eye contact. When parents with children walk by it becomes worse. Reason?’

Oh.

Oh no.

With every word Jaskier read the sense of dread rose higher in him until it was almost choking him. He should stop reading. This was too private. He had no right to reading this, to finding out what Geralt - alone and new to the hardships of the Path - had to face.

But Jaskier had to know. He had to find out if Geralt had ever come to a conclusion. He prayed Geralt hadn’t realised what it meant.  

His notes on the smell continued on for far too long, each new line, each time Geralt was worried if maybe there was something wrong with the people he met, if maybe they needed his help, Jaskier’s heart broke more and more for Geralt.

And then came what he had dreaded.

‘Same smell as when the girl from my first monster saw me and screamed.

Oh.’

The simple ‘oh’ tore at Jaskier’s heart. Such a small word, not even something that most people would deem important enough to write down, but in this journal it carried the meaning of an earth-shattering understanding. It promised of decades of misery and self-hatred to come.

The rest of the page were attempts at finding the right word for what Geralt had found out. Again and again the words were crossed out, scribbled over, erased, as if Geralt couldn’t bear to read it on the page, as if he still hoped he was wrong about what he already knew to be true.

Jaskier turned the page and there it was, one word, simple and cruel.

‘Fear’

Jaskier stared at the word as if he could will it to disappear, as if he could make Geralt unlearn this ugly and unjust truth which he never should have had to face.

He wanted to close the book. He had already read too much.

And yet.

Images of Geralt tensing when Jaskier reached for him flared up in his mind. There were too many memories of Geralt looking at him bewildered and searching as if he expected… as if he thought –

Before he knew what he was doing, Jaskier thumbed through the pages until he found his name. He had no excuse, but he needed to know.

‘Maybe there is something wrong with Jaskier? He doesn’t smell of fear. Can’t be right. All the other signs are there. Sweat. From walking? He keeps staring at me. He keps glancing away when he realises I noticed. Racing heart when I look at him. More now than when I first met him. It got more the longer I knew him. But why? Why is there no smell of fear? Maybe his perfume is too strong.’

Jaskier snorted as he skimmed over Geralt’s musings on his perfume that almost seemed as if Geralt was trying desperately to distract himself from what he coudln’t understand. There wasn’t much to be said about that, apart from the fact that Geralt had absolutely no sense for what smelled good.

Until a few pages later -

‘New smell. Only on Jaskier. Floral but not like his perfume. Smells like…the sun? Like a warm day in spring?’

Jaskier had to squint to decipher those notes. Most of them were crossed out, but this time it made a pleasant warmth rise in Jaskier’s chest. He was sure he didn’t imagine the hints of ‘smells nice. Comforting’ under the lines trying to hide Geralt’s thoughts.

‘But why? Why does it get stronger when I touch him? He should he afraid. It doesn’t make sense. I brought him a blanket today and put it around his shoulders and the smell spiked up and Jaskier smiled. I want to do it again. See that smile again and smell him feel - What is it? What does he feel? Why doesn’t Jaskier make any sense?’

A fond smile tugged at Jaskier’s lips. As heartbreaking as it was to see Geralt so confused over the lack of fear, there was a softness to Geralt’s words.

The smile froze on his face when he came to the next paragraph.

‘Jaskier smelled of fear today. Of course. Only a matter of time. It’s worse smelling it on him. On other people it’s normal but I didn’t think - I hoped -  I shouldn’t have let myself forget that he would smell like that eventually.’

No. No, that couldn’t be right. Jaskier wasn’t afraid of Geralt, never has been. There must be some mistake. Geralt couldn’t think Jaskier was afraid of him!

‘He saw me today. After I had drunk Cat. I shouldn’t have let him see me like this. I shoudl have been more careful. Of course he was afraid. He must have forgotten who what I was. But. He still touched me? He asked me if I was alright. Was this his way of trying to find out if he could run away? If I was still strong enough to hurt him? I wouldn’t. But he was afraid. I don’t want him to be afraid. Tomorrow he is going to leave me.’

Jaskier’s breath got stuck in his throat. Geralt didn’t know. He really had no idea.

Jaskier remembered the day Geralt had written about vividly. He still had nightmares about it sometimes. Seeing Geralt with black eyes and blood coming out of a gash on his chest had been the most terrifying sight Jaskier had ever seen. He remembered his racing thoughts. What if Geralt’s eyes were black becausse he had been cursed? What if he was blinded? What if he was hurting because of his eyes and there was nothing Jaskier could do to help him?

Jaskier had never been more scared in his life, but not a for a moment had he been afraid for his own safety.

How could he even think that Jaskier could be afraid of him? How could he think that Jaskier was worried about Geralt hurting him when there was no one out whom Jaskier felt safer around?

‘Jaskier didn’t leave. He’s still here. The sun smell is back. It shouldn’t be. He should be afraid. I don’t want him to be afraid again.’

An ugly feeling rose in his chest and twisted his insides. As much as he had felt the irresistible urge to read what Geralt thought about Jaskier’s feelings, he couldn’t bring himself to read more of it.

His words from earlier came back to him. He had meant it to be teasing, when he had said Geralt would figure out what emotion Jaskier smelled like, but now, having read how despite spending years at his side, Geralt had still thought Jaskier could ever be afraid of him, he couldn’t help but regret his words.

Knowing what he knew now, it would be no more fun to watch Geralt be confused about his displays of affection, instead it would shatter his heart as it did Geralt’s. Every second of Geralt doubting Jaskier’s feelings for him was one second too many.

Maybe Geralt would be able to figure it out on his own, when Jaskier would take care of him or run his fingers through his hair gently as they lay in bed together tonight.

Or maybe he would still be confused and open the book to write down more of his swirling thoughts that didn’t allow him to realise that he was anything other than feared.

Well, if he ever did open the book again, he would find what Jaskier wrote in it now, the answer to what Jaskier felt and would continue to feel for his witcher who was his dearest friend and so much more than that.

‘Love’

[dinner-djarin]

dar'manda (Mando x f!reader)

Chapter 2: A Valuable Friend

Summary: After surviving the Empires attack on Nevarro, you reluctantly go back to your monotonous life. But when the Mandalorian returns, you find yourself in a new position you never would have expected: his friend.

Warnings: Me making shit up about Mandalorian culture whoops, alcohol consumption & getting sick (reader gets drunk), some self-deprecation on the part of the reader, vague talks about having children, mature language (real life and starwars),

Word Count: ~6.5k

Notes: (more at the end for important note on one line in the fic)

Previous - Next

No. NO?!

How and why would you -

Did you really -

You really kriffed up that one.

Not only was that the single most embarrassing moment of your life, but you also just blew your first real chance at escaping this prison sentence of a planet.

Ever since you arrived on Nevarro you’ve wanted to leave. It was something of an accident, ever ending up here in the first place.

After the death of your mother, you were effectively an orphan, although old enough to care for yourself. In fact, you had already been caring for yourself and your sickly mother ever since your older sister left to fight in the rebellion. You always admired her bravery, her passion to do good in a galaxy that had treated her so poorly. You only wished you had half of her sense of purpose. So, when your mother finally passed, you decided you needed a change. You needed to find your purpose. You had nothing and no one to hold you back, so why not search for it in every remote corner of the newly liberated galaxy?

After gathering your dwindling stash of credits, you caught a ride to every backwater skughole you could find, just for a change of scenery. Along the way you learned that being a young – relatively attractive – humanoid had its fair share of advantages. It wasn’t long until you picked up certain…skill sets…to help you survive. But you didn’t get very far. You somehow ended up on Nevarro with little to no credits remaining. Meaning you were stuck in the same position you had been desperate to leave behind in the first place – broke and alone. You figured you could pick up a job to save up, but it barely paid enough to get by. You were stranded.

But suddenly the perfect opportunity to get away from it all had landed in your lap. In a moment you were granted the perfect opportunity to flee this hell hole and never look back. But in that same moment your incredible ability to self-sabotage just couldn’t be contained.

You had no kriffing clue why he would ask you – someone he barely knew – to join him on his new adventure, but nevertheless he did. Had you really proven yourself that trustworthy, or was he just able to see that you were evidently no threat to him? But why even ask you in the first place? How could he know of your deep desires to traverse the galaxy?

You were baffled. So much so that in that overwhelming moment your confused consciousness decided to betray you. What in the outer rim could possess you to say no. To travel the galaxy with a Mandalorian, The Mandalorian that you couldn’t get out of your head.

He said join him. But now you realize he probably just meant like for a little while, until their next stop. Right? But your flustered idiotic brain had to go and overthink it. In your panicked state you started to imagine what it would be like to travel with the Mandalorian and his child. To see the galaxy, as you always dreamed, at the side of a man who could protect you from anything. There would be no safer companion, but maybe that's just it. You’d been crushing on him so hard that being stuck in confined quarters with him might not be the best scenario. There’s no way you could force yourself to act normal for that long. And that must have been the thought racing through your head at light speed when you choked out the words you may now live to regret.

~

A week later you decide its probably time to get over him. Your crush over Mando has only caused you pain and put you in unbearably uncomfortable situations. You’d be much better off forgetting about him and moving on with your life. Besides, you don’t even really know him. You’ve probably spent a collective hour or so with him, maybe a bit longer if you add up all of the small conversations you held whenever he bought supplies from you.

It’s not even a real crush, just some lustful wishing. Do you secretly wish he’d take you out behind the cantina and fuck you into the next millennia? Yes. Would you let him do absolutely anything he wanted to you... probably? But is that very realistic? What is all of that really based on anyway? A suit of armour. His hypermasculine gait. The intensity behind his unflinching helmet. Nothing really about him. You don’t know his name, or his age. What he even looks like, but you bet it wouldn’t matter. No-

You need to stop those thoughts if you’re ever going to get past this. You. Do not. Know him. Therefore, there is no logical reason you should have any emotions invested in him. And that’s that. The plain and simple truth. It just doesn’t make any sense. So, you need to stop. Take control of your horny ass brain and stop thinking about him.

And just then – as if the Maker himself planned it – the Mandalorian walked by your booth. The sight of his broad shoulders almost erases all thoughts of letting go of your feelings. But just then you notice something. Something in the way he’s moving through the bazaar. It strikes you as odd, almost as if he were stalking prey. He’s hunting, you think. He scans over the area, but a little too erratically for someone of his status. You thought he’d be more elegant, sticking to the shadows until the right moment. Invisible. Deadly. However, here he is frantic. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was afraid.

You don't know how one of the most frightening beings in the galaxy can become a beacon of panic and worry, but there he was. Suddenly, he spots you and makes his way over in several large strides, making quick work to shorten the previously large gap between you.

“Have you seen him?” he barks forcefully.

“Who?” you ask, immediately catching the worriy in his tone.

“The child, my-”

“You lost your kid?!” Your worst suspicions confirmed before he even finishes his sentence.

“I didn’t - I thought he’d be safer with me than on the ship. I looked away for one second-” and then you hear it. His fear finally pried its way into his voice and cracked it. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he may be on the verge of tears.

“Hey it’s okay,” you place a hand just below his pauldron, grabbing his warm, thick bicep. If the situation had been different you might have let yourself think about the fact that only a slip of fabric separated you from him. That only millimetres below was a man of flesh and blood, not of cold hard metal. “I’ll help you find him,” his tension melting away slightly at your words and your touch, so you continue. “You take this side of the market and I'll look over there,” you insist, hoping that giving him some sort of tactical plan might spring him back into bounty hunter mode and away from panicked Dad.

“Thank you,” he stops, and stares at you. “I’m sorry I never asked…”

But you finish his thought, and finally tell him your name. You can’t believe after all that has happened, all the times he came to your vendor, your dumb ass never told him your name. But he nods and returns quickly to his search for the kid.

You turn on the spot and sweep the area with your gaze. In that moment you think back to when you were small. You loved to hide. You were amazing at it. So good, that your father once looked for you for over an hour and the only way to lure you out was with the promise of your favourite Alderaanian sweets. You use that memory and thought where you might have hidden. The market is buzzing and booming, much livelier now that the Imps were gone, and amongst all the chaos it would be natural for a child to feed off the wild energy. You begin peering under other merchant tables, behind walls and crates, when you stumble across a vase. Oddly out of place, but the perfect size for a little green monster to hide. You lean closer and hear a distinct coo as you tilt the lid back. Those giant black orbs staring back at you fill you with relief. You scoop up the child as you wonder how the hell he would have even got in there in the first place, never mind how he then placed the lid back on top.

You move quickly to find his flustered father, hoping to give him that same sense of relief you just experienced. When you do find him, he meets your gaze and moves quickly towards you. So quick it's unbelievable. One minute he was across the bazaar, the next he was scooping the baby up from your arms.

“Don’t ever do that again kid. You had me worried sick.” the child’s mischievous grin suddenly disappeared at this scolding and he became quiet in his father’s arms. “I better let Cara and Karga know. I was with them when he went missing and they also went looking for him.”

“Tell them to meet us in the cantina, I think you could use a drink… or at least a minute to unwind,” you silently curse yourself for being such an idiot. Offering a Mandalorian a drink might be the most oblivious and inconsiderate gesture you could make. In your shameful silence you watch Mando place the child in a floating orb. You recognize it as the same one that trailed him into town on the day everything went down.

“Don't you have to go back to work?” Mando questions, kindly skipping over your foolish comment.

“It was a slow day, and the sun is almost down, which means I’m almost off anyway. I don’t think my boss will miss me. But I mean, if you prefer to be alone I-”

“No, please come” He interrupts. “Without you I may have lost him for good.”

“I seriously doubt that Mando. I don’t know if you know this, but you are a bounty hunter.”

And then he chuckles. Like an actual laugh. Quick, quiet, and modulated, but still there. You think about memorizing the gorgeous sound, which also makes you wonder how often that happens. When was the last time he actually laughed? And what it would take to make him truly laugh? Loudly and unabashedly. You wonder what circumstance would allow him to fully let his walls down around you. How you would fall apart at the sound of his full tenor. Finally, you make a mental note to scold yourself later for these thoughts.

As the three of you make your way to the cantina you decidedly lag one step behind the Mandalorian, walking right next to the floating orb that contains the child, just to make sure the kid doesn’t pull anything before you can get there. You’re shocked at how Mando can be so trusting of this little menace so soon, letting the orb follow him without keeping an eye directly on the kid. It’s starting to make more sense how he might have gotten lost in the first place.

When you finally reach the cantina Cara and Karga are already set down at a table with possibly the largest bottle of spotchka you’ve ever seen sitting centre of the table. You take the seat next to Cara, while Mando places himself directly across from you, next to Karga.

“So, we have you to thank for the capture of this bounty huh?” Karga somewhat insensitively jests as he glances over to the child. In fact, you think you see Mando stiffen at these words. The last time you were all together was in service of protecting the child from the people who put a bounty on him in the first place.

“She’s truly a wonder.” Cara says in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I mean how’d you find the little bugger?”

“Truthfully? It sounds kind of odd, but I put myself in his position. I just thought about what I would have done when I was a child” You answer back to her, a little embarrassed at your confession. “I remembered how I liked to hide when I was that age. I figured he’d probably be wanting to have some fun. Of course, he couldn’t know that hiding in the middle of a crowd was only fun for him.” You continue as you look down into your hands, slightly lost in your thought, “Kids are often like that, giving us grief for their own enjoyment. But it really is a wonder. They seem to have an ability to find joy in the most desolate of places. They still see magic in the galaxy; they still believe in the impossible.” A subtle comfort fills your chest, and you smile as you remember your time spent with children back on your home planet. Time spent with your younger brother. You glance up at the child in his crib, “They have natural curiosity for the world around them. An endless hope for what the galaxy could be.” When you finish you look back to the group at the table, only to see the shared glances of amusement between Cara and Karga at your naïve outlook. You felt a little embarrassed at their reaction, but it didn’t last.

A droid disrupts the uncomfortable silence by approaching your table with 2 extra glasses, obviously unaware of the fact Mando would not be joining in the drinking. Good to know your common sense was on the level of a bartender droid.

You however were unsure of what to do. It wasn’t that you were necessarily opposed to the beverage now being offered to you by Karga, but this didn’t seem like the right time to indulge. You had probably already embarrassed yourself enough in front of this particular group for one night. So, when the child began to stir in his crib you took it as an opportunity to forgo the beverage and focus on him. With your arms reached out towards the child, you suddenly think to get the consent of his guardian. You look up at the Mandalorian and smile when you receive a silent nod from him. After grabbing the child and setting him in your lap, you hope that you had successfully removed yourself from the attention of the others.

“You like kids then?” Cara pries at your thoughts, trying to continue your previous chain of conversation.

“Well, I haven’t really been around them in a while, not since being home. There were always so many children in my village, and they were always so filled with wonder. It made me see the world a little brighter.” You finish, hoping the conversation ends there.

“Ever think you’ll have your own?” She continues, obviously seeing the gleam in your eye as you speak.

You laugh at this question but honestly you hadn’t really thought of it. You’ve never been able to picture a future like that. Husband. Kids. Home. It had been too long since you had any feeling of security to hope for that type of life. You'd pretty much spent more of your life alone than with your family, to the point where you don't even know what it’s really supposed to look like.

When you don’t give her an answer past laughter, Cara switches her attention to the Mandalorian, “How ‘bout you Mando, ever thought you’d end up with a kid of your own?” and you turn back to the baby, hoping that you had finally left the center of the conversation.

It seems to work as you overhear the members of your table switch their topic to the criminals that still plague Nevarro, and the recent advances ‘Marshall Dune’ has made in her efforts to clean the town.

Tuning them out, you begin to play with the child, making faces and babbling along to his adorable coos. The child becomes fascinated by the idea of hiding your face behind your hands, only to suddenly reappear seconds later, and he tries to pry your hands away every time. After popping your face out for the tenth time the child begins to reach for your face again, but this time grabbing your nose, and you can’t help but giggle at his precious three-fingered grip. However, when his tiny hand slips to your cheek, a sudden wave of emotions rips over you, and you feel overwhelmed by a grief you haven’t felt in years. Your eyes tear up, and you remember flashes of a memory you’ve worked hard to repress. Standing in a dark closet huddling tight to your brother and sister. Then, the loudest sound you’ve ever heard fills your ears and-

“Kid!” Mando bellows and removes the child from your grip. You turn away from the table and look up at the Mandalorian, cheeks drenched by your tears and barely able to breathe. He sets the child in his pram, and crouches in front of you. “Hey, it’s okay just breathe, slowly, breathe. You’re okay, you’re safe,” he reminds you, holding your knees. It takes a few moments for you to catch your breath, but in those moments, you stare through the visor, past your own reflection, and focus on the eyes that you knew were staring back at you.

“What… was that” You finally manage to choke out.

“The kid, he must have done something to you. He’s got these powers-”

“He made me remember?” You blurt in disbelief.

“Umm, I’m not sure. Maybe. The people he belongs to, the Jedi, they are sorcerers.”

“So, whatever he just did to me… that’s what that woman, the other Mandalorian, was talking about?” You ask.

“Yes, whatever he just did, and more,” Mando adds

“More than that?”

“So far, a lot more.”

You finally snap back to reality, remembering that there are other people present, so you turn to give them a reassuring nod.

“How ‘bout that drink?” Karga asks in an attempt to lighten the mood, and you shoot back the beverage quickly, attempting to wipe the resurfaced memory from existence.

~

After the first round of spotchka had been downed, Cara and Karga made their way to the bar for more drinks, leaving you and the Mandalorian alone.

“So… you’re stuck with him, huh?” you ask, feeling quite light-headed from the drinks, any filter you previously possessed had now dissipated.

“Well, I wouldn’t say stuck,” Mando states sitting up straight.

“You don’t think you bit off a little more than you can chew? He seems like quite the handful.”

“He’s a good kid.” Mando snaps shortly, making you finally realize he has become defensive from your words.

“Oh. No, I just meant, kids are already a lot of work, I can’t imagine the magic powers make it any easier,” you joke, trying to diffuse your mistake with a small chuckle.

“No, I can’t say they do. Although without him or his powers I’d be dead.” Mando says blankly, as if his words were common knowledge to you.

“Wait, what?” You ask in shock, wondering if in your current state you forgot about some lifesaving event that took place previously.

“Yah, so would Karga.” He glances over at the pair at the bar, and you follow with your eyes. “Saved me from a mudhorn the first day we met. Healed the poison in Karga’s arm when he was attacked by a reptavian.”

“Wow,” you say quietly to yourself, “Look at you go kid. You’re pretty dang special.” You say towards the child, sticking your tongue out and successfully getting the kid to giggle at you.

“Yah he is.” The Mandalorian says quietly, almost a whisper to himself, and with a lightness that makes it sound like he might be smiling.

“So, will you raise him to be Mandalorian as well?” You wonder aloud, taking a swig from your drink, as if you needed to increase your level of inebriation.

“Not necessarily. Although I’ve adopted him as my founding, he belongs with the sorcerer group called the Jedi. My goal is to reunite him with them, but until then, technically yes.”

“Does that mean anyone can be Mandalorian, if they get adopted by one?”

“Yes. But they may not need to be adopted. If someone was old enough, they could simply train under another Mandalorian, and then swear an oath to the Creed once that training is done.” And although you want to know more about how he grew up, some grain of restraint is planted in your brain, thankfully stopping you from prying into his private life. Instead, your interest in the Creed is piqued, and you decide to follow that train of thought instead.

“And is that a difficult process then? I mean, not just anyone would be able to pass it, right?” And even though warning signs were flashing in your brain, telling you not to risk disrespecting the secrecy of the Creed, the Mandalorian responds. He continues to tell you intimate details of his training process, specifically towards the fighting corps, including how his adoptive siblings and he were forced to spar with each other, often walking away with several harsh wounds. He tells you about how he studied the language as much as he could, as it was rarely used, but still sacred among his people. How he had an affinity for languages, and how he specifically enjoyed the simplicity and poetic nature of Mando’a. He tells you of grueling trials, times where he thought he wasn’t going to make it. But he also explains how his low moments lead him to find the strength to persevere.

The whole time he spoke, you stared at him with glimmering eyes. You hung onto every word. Even through the modulator you could hear the care and restrained excitement in his voice,. You could tell just how important this culture was to him, how he cared deeply for the history and sanctity of his people and Creed. And as he spoke with such tenderness, you felt yourself become entranced with his words. As he detailed the responsibilities and dedication to his covert - how important his training had been - you felt something within your heart, a longing sentimentality. His words describing a life you wish you had known. A sense of purpose and duty. A greater cause to fight for. A chosen family with a common mindset. A place in the galaxy.

These were things you had dreamed about for your entire existence. Every day that passed felt meaningless and draining, knowing that you were doing nothing of importance. The life Mando described to you sounded like heaven. The idea of having something to fight for filled your entire body with electricity. You couldn’t help but stare at him with wonder as he detailed to you a life you had always wanted.

“Dank ferric.” He grumbles. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said all that.” Mando says, snapping back from the trance he had found himself in.

“Oh gods, no that’s my fault I shouldn’t have pried.” You try to apologize. “I’ll forget everything you said.” Although you don’t truly know if you had a choice. You think you might never be free from the wishful idea of belonging that had latched onto something deep within you.

“Oh, I don’t mean that I shouldn’t have told you. I trust you won’t do any harm with that information.” He says with a nod towards you and you can’t help but blush at his compliment. Being trusted by Mando might be the highest honour he could give. “I just shouldn’t have gone on so long. I apologize for taking up your time.”

“Mando, you don’t have to apologize for speaking.” You joke, although simultaneoausly noticing the way Mando had stiffened at your words, you continue, “At least not to me,” you say reaching out across the table to grab the Mandalorians hand, a gesture that your sober self would never have had the courage to do. “You obviously care about your heritage, and rightfully so. It sounds magnificent. You should be able to be proud of it.”

“I don’t usually have that privilege. Many people would take advantage of such knowledge.”

“Well, you deserve to have the freedom to talk about something you care about,” you say as you bring your other hand across the table and give a caring squeeze to his hand, “And I swear, the only exploitation you’ll get from me is my claim to babysit your little womp rat whenever you come to town.” you say retracting your hands away from Mando and instead making grabby hands toward the child.

“Well, I don’t know anyone better suited to the job. It would be unwise to deny you that wish, especially now that you have intel on me.”

“Was that a joke, and a complement? From a Mandalorian?” you scoff, “Wow. I never thought I’d live to see it.”

“Does that mean I have to kill you now?” he shifts to the edge of his seat and leans towards you.

“Oh, I’d like to see you try, bucket head.” you tease, knowing full well he could kill you in an instant without even trying. Regardless, you shift forward and cross your arms on the table, challenging him with the mirrored motion.

The two of you stare at each other in silence, your mouth creeping into a mischievous smile. You wonder what might be going through his mind, as all you can think about is the idea of him pinning you to the ground in a millisecond, and just when you think he will break, a voice brings your attention away.

“I think we gotta call it,” Cara says, a little too loudly for her close proximity to your ear. You wince at the intrusion, cursing the fact that you won't get to know how your challenge ended.

“I should be on my way then” the Mandalorian states, “Although I’m still missing some supplies-”

“Lemme grab them for you.” You insist, “I can meet you back at your ship in 30 minutes. Got a list?”

The Mandalorian lists off a handful of items, and you instantly know you have them all in stock. You give him a nod and stand from your booth. “See you in a few.” You say with a wink that you instantly regret the minute you turn your back.

~

“How long do you think you’ll be gone for?” You question Mando as you approach him with the crateful of supplies he requested.

“Not really sure. If I get any leads on the Jedi, I have to follow them up. Of course, Nevarro is always a safe place to refuel and restock.”

“So, you’ll be back as long as you need shit from me?” you startle yourself with your choice of language, remembering the several shots of spotchka you just downed and how your tongue might be a little looser.

“Not just you.” The Mandalorian states rather quickly, in a tone you’d almost label as flustered. “I can’t get fuel from you,” he continues much more coolly.

“Mhhhm, right. That is true. But no other reason.”

“Another reason for what?”

“For you to come back. Here. I mean you’ve got friends here-”

“I don’t really have friends.”

“Well, that mighta hurt my feelings if I knew you a bit better, but I’m certain Cara and Karga would feel a bit under appreciated. Especially after everything that happened…” You trail off.

“They are much more business partners then friends,” you squint your eyes and raise your brow at him with those words, making him corrects himself, “But sure. If you want to classify them as friends, then yes.”

After a brief silence you somewhat bravely somewhat stupidly ask, “And me?” Eyes wide and hopeful, sober-you would be ashamed. Taking a step towards him you muster up even more courage, “Would I be classified as a friend too?”

“Yes. A valuable one,” He states stepping towards you as well, “One who could teach me something about caring for a child.”

“Oh, no. I know nothing about that. I guess I’m just good at relating to them. Maybe I’m still young at heart” you tease. Something about the Mandalorian tells you he’s got a lot of years behind him, a lot of...experience. You don’t have much evidence to back it up, more of a vibe really.

After another small silence the Mandalorian speaks. “I guess it’s nice to have friendly faces around, for the child's sake. Perhaps I should make it a habit to return until he’s been united with his people”

“And what about you? You don’t go crazy having no one to talk to but the kid?”

“Not much of a talker”

“Except for tonight.”

“Fair.” He bluntly states. “It doesn’t seem too difficult to get information out of you”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“You seem to like to talk, is all”

“Well, it’s been a while since I've been in good company. To be honest I think I talked more tonight than in the past several years''

“I can agree with that.”

“We make a good pair then. Two people who don’t talk yet can’t shut up around each other” And at this point you don’t even know what you’re saying. The proximity to the Mandalorian and the alcohol in your blood are mixing at a dangerous level, making you blurt out things you’re sure you’d never have the courage to say.

In the silence that followed, you are eager to find something to fill it. You think back to how he talked of his upbringing, the joy you felt in his voice. It reminded you of the last time you could remember feeling that way.

“You know, the way you spoke of sparing with your siblings, it reminded me of my childhood.” You say, eager to find something to fill the silence. Normally you don’t mind quiet but drunk you has decided otherwise. “When I was very young my siblings and I would fight constantly, always in good nature of course. We wanted to win the affection of our parents, although they would have loved us either way. But they would cheer us on. They always encouraged our fighting, telling us we would be stronger for it when we were grown.

“When they watched us, they looked so in love, so proud. My mother would turn to my father and say ‘we raised warriors’. It was like they knew things would turn bad. I mean of course there were wars, and the Empire was a constant threat, but somehow, they were always prepared for the worst. Like they were ready for a fight that might never come.”

The Mandalorian stood silently, and it seemed your attempt to relate to him failed spectacularly. However, for a moment, you thought you caught the subtle tilt of his visor. Like he was examining you, maybe unsure of what to make of your lengthy anecdote.

“That does resemble my upbringing.” He spoke softly, finally filling the conversational void. “Quite a lot, actually.” But then silence returned. A buzzing filled your ears from the complete lack of auditory stimulation. You felt yourself becoming unsteady, like the force of the silence was pushing you off balance. You now realized the total effects of your inebriation were hitting you. “Were you-” but before Mando could finish his thought, your stomach forced its contents out violently, and you were lucky enough to find the sense to turn away from him, and rush towards a near alleyway, just in time.

As your body rid itself of the liquid poison, you couldn’t help but let multiple tears spill out of your eyes, unsure if it was from the force of the projectile, or the complete embarrassment.

“Oh, dear gods,” you finally croak as you regain your bearings on the spinning world around you. “I am so sorry, Mando. That was so kriffing embarrassing.” You try to cover your face, as you sweep your tears from your cheeks. But Mando already made his way over to you, crouching to meet you on the ground, grabbing your hands in his and placing a canteen in them instead.

“Drink. It’ll help.” He says in a soft hushed tone. You aren’t even sure where he got the canteen from, maybe it just happened to be near at the time, or he went back up to the ship in the time you were hurling… “Drink.” He repeats, interrupting your train of thought.

You unflask it with shaky hands and take a large swig, immediately feeling some relief from the burning sensation in your throat. “You need food as well.” He adds simply, grabbing your arms and heaving your dead weight off the ground as if it were nothing to him. After helping back to standing position, he turned toward his ship and made his way to the ramp. Before ascending, he turned back to you and finished his original thought, “Let’s see what rations you gathered for me. Come on.”

So, you make your way over to the ship, which is a task in itself as your legs felt as though they might give out at any moment.

“Wow,” you say in astonishment. You’d never seen a true cruiser like this. Any inter-planet hopper you’d taken to make your way to Nevarro had always been either completely basic and Imperial made, or a complete hunk of junk. And although you had nothing really to base it on, this ship was leagues ahead of anything you had experienced before. To think he got to spend all his time travelling the galaxy in a ship like this, all on his own. That was true adventure.

And you knew from the carbon scoring on the exterior that he had actually seen it. Excitement, danger, freedom. But the inside of this ship told a more complex story. You think that before it would have been simple. A weapons locker, a tiny sleeping quarter, a refresher, and not much else. The bare necessities for a man always in motion. No home. No attachments. But what you figured must have been new additions showed glimpses of a different man. A tiny hammock over the sleeping area, a small padded seat lifted to meet the height of a protruding shelf that almost resembled a dinner table, and what looked like makeshift toys strewn across the hull. All signs of another lifeform making itself comfortable on his ship and in his life.

“Here.” the Mandalorian grunted, breaking you from your daze, as he held out a ration stick to you. “Are you alright?”

“Well, I don’t feel as… vomitty, as before.” You start, now staring at the man in front of you, right where you figure - where you’re almost certain - his eyes are meeting yours. You think of his willingness to take care of you, twice tonight. Nothing added up. He was a complete mystery. Just when you thought you had him pinned, everything was suddenly flipped.

“That’s good, you just look a little out-of-it.” He said as he placed a hand on your shoulder, probably trying to steady you from whatever state you were in.

“Oh no, I’m just admiring the place.” You say, breaking eye contact to scan over the area again, taking in new details as you did so.

“Ha ha.” he says dryly, retracting his hand from you.

“No, I’m serious,” you reply sternly, offended that he would think so little of his own ship. “I’ve never seen anything like this, except for maybe in my dreams. I can’t imagine getting to fly in this every day. Or, oh maker! You get to see the stars in hyperspace, that was my favourite part! I only got to travel through hyperspace once. And, dank ferric, it was spectacular. Every other damn transport was sublight, not fun. Very slow, but generally cheaper, I guess. I’d kill to get to see that again” You could feel the excitement within you reach your face. A giant grin bursting out of you when you could no longer contain the joy within.

“Where were you travelling?” He questioned after examining your elation, and you could hear the genuine nature of his question, like he actually cared. Most people had never taken this much interest in your past.

“Oh, really anywhere I could. I just wanted to get away from, well, everything. My family, the war, my whole life. I tried to start over, but I didn’t get very far. Got stranded here, and I could never find the means to continue my journey.”

“Your journey?” He prompted, trying his best to stifle the laugh that followed.

“Yah okay that sounds a little ridiculous, but really I was just trying to find some excitement, something different. Just trying to find… something. It sounds dumb, I know, but I was so sick of my life, so when I had the opportunity to go, I went. I went everywhere I could afford, until I could barely afford food. So, I worked at that vendor for scraps until I saved enough to keep going, but I guess I never saved enough.”

“So, you’re still looking?’

“Huh?”

“You said you were looking to find something, but it doesn’t sound like you found it.”

“No. I haven’t. Not that I even know what I was looking for. But it seemed like one of those ‘you’ll know when you know’ things”

“Well, what if someone could take you away from Nevarro?” he questioned.

“Wouldn’t happen. I’ve got barely enough credits to buy bantha crap.”

“What if that person didn’t need credits, just company.”

The statement threw you. Suddenly you weren’t sure what Mando truly knew about your reputation. “Uhhh what kinda company, because I really don’t-”

“A friend.” He paused, making you wonder why he would propose such an idea, “A valuable one.”

And only then did the wires connect in your still-woozy brain. He was asking you to join him. Again. But this time as a friend. Someone he knew and trusted. Someone who he felt comfortable enough with to talk about his Creed with. And suddenly your heart stopped beating.

You could not – for the love of the Maker – mess this up again. But maybe you should make sure.

“Me?” you say while lazily pointing towards yourself for further clarification. “Mando are you asking me to join you two?”

“Maybe you’ll find what you’re looking for.” He says before making his way back out of the hull to finish packing the remnants of the supplies, apparently making the decision for you, as you definitely gave no answer. But it was the answer you wanted. A way out. An escape. And for kriffing sake, free.

As you stood, dumbstruck and alone, in the hull, you wondered just what it might be like. Getting to see some danger up close and personal. To see treacherous planets one week, then beautiful landscapes the next.

When Mando returned to the hull with the last of the supplies, only two words could escape your mouth, quieter and softer than you may have ever spoken before. “Thank you.”

Chapter 3

☆ I appreciate every like and comment so much, thank you all! And if you’d like to be added to the tag list let me know ☆

Taglist: @peppywitch @tobealostwanderer @thecraftyartist @ajeff855 @greatcircle79

Notes: In this chapter I say that the reader is “relatively attractive”. I’m not trying to single anyone out here or make you feel like you can’t be the reader if you don’t view yourself as attractive (because we are all fucking gorgeous anyway fuck societal norms). What I really mean to say is that like being a human looking person makes the reader more attractive than some alien-being might be (like weird alien species that would make up the general population of the more ‘outer rim’ planets she might be on). I was just trying to emphasize that she would be viewed as rare since young female humans wouldn’t normally populate those types of planets. Also, because the reader being female and kinda youngish will play a role later as I kinda touch on the dangers of the bounty hunter life and how the reader needs to navigate it.

[iamnightduchess]

Hi Queen ❤

I love your headcanons so much and I don’t know if you’ve ever done one of these, but I’d really like to imagine what it would be like if Mikasa and Reiner fell in love after the end of the manga, what this discovery would be like and how they would deal with this!

(Forgive me for my lousy english hahaha)

Hello dear, thank you for the Ask! 💖 It really helps me to envision a more ideal post-ending universe because the potential ending right now does not look promising that both of them will somehow survive (together) because I am foreseeing one of them voluntarily dies to save another person. I hope i'm wrong! 😢 I've only done a tiny snippet of ReiKasa in this Post-Rumbling HC AU. But, here's what I envision how it could possibly be IF they survive & they happen:

Reiner x Mikasa (ReiKasa) Post-Rumbling AU (Gen) Headcanon #16

Before we delve into Post-Rumbling period, it's interesting to observe the tiny moments where the seeds of trust and possibly, love between these two former enemies turned allies might have possibly begun sprouting.

The Rumbling

We've seen the way Reiner had implied on the plane in ch.133, how Eren might want to be stopped by someone. Reiner was using himself as a pretext; an example. If HE was the one with the FT & somehow finding himself unable to control it, he'd want to be stopped by someone he knows is capable of doing so (someone more powerful & stronger than he is) When he said that sentence, he was gazing at Mikasa.

There are 2 implications here, i) He is indirectly admitting in front of everyone that Mikasa is his weakness, like a failsafe. The one he knows who can take him down if he's the one with this enormous power & he's losing control, ii) Because to him, ever since they were younger, Eren is her family & a sensitive subject to her. Him voicing out his opinion and indirectly hinting that Eren is beyond the path of no return will hurt Mikasa's feelings & emotional state.

During the Paths Intermission, the moment Eren basically told the alliance to go fuck themselves, that he will keep moving forward for his freedom, while the alliance members are free to fight him if that is what they want; Reiner was horrified to know that Eren basically confirmed his deduction & how much pain and devastation Mikasa would be in upon receiving the awful truth from Eren himself. Even after pleading to Eren to let her share the burden of his sins, which as direct as it could have been to "I don't want to be so far from you. I want to be with you through both light & darkness inside of you. Please come back to us." Mikasa still believed that the previous Eren that she knew is still there somewhere, which is no longer the case.

The shock-induced tears in Mikasa's eyes - seeing her in pain, hurts Reiner too. He'd knew how heartbroken she would be.

In Ch.135, when everyone was on the verge of dying as they're losing the battle with the raised forms of past titan shifters, Mikasa reached her breaking point & Reiner felt helpless, because he was at his last limit & Mikasa was planning to make herself the primary target just to buy the rest a little bit more time.

There's this woman who's fighting towards an expected death in front of him - any man would be an idiot for not seeing how foolish yet selfless and brave this last female warrior of Paradis was. She's always been a fearless woman who has their backs and protects their fronts. He has never stopped respecting this woman. This might have been the starting point for that seed to have sprouted inside Reiner.

If Annie's timely rescue never came and they truly met their end there, the only regret Reiner has was he couldn't do anything else but watch this woman's final moments without being able to do anything to support her before his own ensuing end.

When Levi, Jean and Connie all collectively & firmly agrees that killing Eren is the only thing that stands between the world's survival, Reiner was silent the whole time. He believed he has no right to say anything, but he saw the vulnerable look on her face the moment Jean reiterated their ultimatum: "We need to kill Eren."

Reiner did what he does best: he took charge. When Reiner told her, "You go help Armin." He was indirectly telling her, "You do what you can. I will shoulder your burden with Jean. Let me be the strength for you to do what needs to be done." This was Reiner's way of telling her, he will carry her burden for her and shelter her from an unbearable pain. Just like how she told Eren much earlier in Paths. Reiner's indirectly telling Mikasa that she's important to him too.

This was the moment that the seed had sprouted within her heart. She realized that Reiner's communicating to her in the way only she would understand. How much she feels for Eren, Reiner feels for her in the same way because you can't give a reason why you care for or love someone. You just do. It just happened without signs. Annie, however, was able to catch that short but impactful interchange between them.

Post-Rumbling

They barely survive the last stand against Eren's final form but they did with Ymir's divine intervention in Humanity's New Dawn.

Reiner sustains extremely heavy injuries on his physical body. Mikasa is emotionally & psychologically affected by Eren's true death.

The remaining humanity struggles to rebuild from the ashes of destruction. It was beyond devastation. The world is almost completely annihilated but hope is a powerful energy. Hope persists.

Reiner sees her grieving - like a pair of wheels suspended in motion - trapped while the rest of the world moves around her. She refuses to eat, she barely sleeps but when she does, she would toss and turn around restlessly. Annie tells him in passing that when Mikasa sleeps, her body contorts and freezes simultaneously like she's in a lot of pain.

Seeing her drifting through the days like a soulless vessel pains him a lot. No one could humanly survived what she had to go through without serious ramifications towards her emotional and psychological state. Mikasa becomes withdrawn and sullen.

Yet, he retains his distance like he always does & watch silently from the sides as Annie, Armin & Jean tried to reach out to her to no avail. Reiner himself is haunted by his failed attempt to hold the Founder's original form down that, in a way, had forced Mikasa to do what needs to be done. He feels responsible that he couldn't prevent her from having to go through those painful yet pivotal moments of securing humanity's survival. The day the alliance managed to save the world, well, the world that she built for Eren inside her heart was destroyed in return.

One day, she mysteriously disappears without trace. A panicking Armin searches on his own but Annie tells Reiner that Mikasa's missing, nowhere to be found. Reiner and Armin later found her at the crater where Eren's last resting place had been. The exact same location where she had to slay him with her own two blades.

Mikasa says that she just feels lost and empty. Like there's a huge dark void inside her body that she can't escape from. She just sits there amongst the dust and debris, staring blankly at a makeshift, unmarked grave. She confides that she's terrified of falling asleep because she sees Eren's face in her nightmares.

Armin wants to console her but Annie holds him back as she notices Reiner already making his way forward and settles himself next to her. Armin understands what Annie was trying to do.

Reiner only tells Mikasa, "You don't have to do this alone...Lean on us." He offers his hand, despite knowing she wouldn't even touch him. "When you feel that you can no longer breathe, I'll breathe for you. If you feel like you're drifting, I will hold you."

It takes her a while but she accepts his hand and he holds it tight in his. Reassuring her that he is here to stay for as long as she needs him to be.

Little either of them know that it would possibly be forever.

It is Annie who helps to bridge these two together with Armin's help.

Ever since the day they talked, Mikasa slowly finds herself regaining an ounce of strength. Reiner talks a lot to her and offers his silent company as they go for walks together so she does not feel alone.

Reiner makes sure that he'll check in with Mikasa from time to time when he's not supporting the remaining forces with rebuilding, too frequent not to be noticed by everyone close to them in the survivor's settlement. However, none of them questions him about it. It is an understood, unspoken notion that Reiner cares a lot about Mikasa, and her for him eventhough she's being subtle about it. Armin could see Mikasa's eyes lit up whenever Reiner is nearby.

Mikasa shares a living space with Annie and Pieck. When her night terrors get too much that Mikasa thrashes around, screaming in pain despite being in a deep sleep, the two former shifters know that they couldn't possibly restrain the Ackerman girl physically on their own. They called for Armin, Jean and Reiner for help. When Armin and Jean hesitate to hold her down, it is Reiner who holds her tight even when Mikasa's unconsciously trying to struggle against him. They could see Reiner's face holding back his own physical pain from fighting against the immense resistance coming from her. But he'd never released his hold until she eventually wakes up and calms down. He stayed with her until the break of dawn.

After that night, however, Reiner seems to be pulling himself away from Mikasa as he couldn't get over his guilt and his helplessnesss as he also didn't want Mikasa to think that he's trying to take advantage of her vulnerability. The problem is, when he avoids Mikasa, she reverts back to the darkness she's slowly overcoming with Reiner's help and he's becoming miserable himself.

This frustrates Armin, Annie, Jean, Levi and even Pieck because it was fairly obvious to everyone but the two people in question that both Reiner and Mikasa are self-sabotaging and self-punishing themselves from pursuing something more than friendship despite their beating hearts calling out for each other.

Mikasa feels she's betraying her memories of Eren and she's afraid of moving on lest she would forget about him. Reiner feels he has no right to offer Mikasa anything more than friendship because she deserves someone better than him.

Mother's Intuition

Reiner's mother, Karina, finds herself naturally drawn to this young woman who seems to have her son's attention, even when he's trying very hard not to be obvious about it. She catches Reiner staring (longingly, she dare say) at the female warrior of Paradis from afar.

Apart from Mr. Leonhardt's daughter, she too, helps to bring her son and Mikasa closer. Karina has witnessed this woman's bravery and have heard from both Gabi and Reiner of her selflessness when she had saved both her son and her niece's lives. Through Reiner's story, Karina sympathizes with the pain this young woman is going through.

Reiner tells her that he feels helpless that he isn't able to help Mikasa and that she hasn't been eating well. Therefore, Karina brings her homemade meal and visits the young woman, wanting to get to know her better. Mikasa doesn't want to be impolite and relents to having the sudden company.

However, the moment Karina holds her hands to offer her comfort, Mikasa breaks down. She had lost 3 mothers/maternal figures in her life: her own, Carla & Hange. For some odd reason, she feels grateful to have an opportunity to be held by a mother again, even if it wasn't her own.

Karina finds herself growing fond of this young woman and deep inside believes that Mikasa and her son are meant for each other.

It is Karina who advises Reiner to fight for his own happiness and her mother's intuition tells her that his feelings isn't as one-sided as he thinks. Karina urges her son to tell Mikasa how he really feels and after all the years of fighting wars for Marley, Reiner needs to fight one last war: the one within his own heart and to win the heart of the one woman who had conquered his.

However, the relief entourage that arrives from Hizuru, led by Kiyomi Azumabito prevents him from telling Mikasa how he truly feels. He knows that she is destined to become the new empress of Hizuru and that her future would be brighter without him being in her way.

Mikasa tells him of her decision to ascend the imperial throne and Reiner feigns happiness for her decision, reassuring her that she will make a great empress and that she would have a better future there. Mikasa takes Reiner's words as him indirectly telling her to move on with her life without him in it.

Reluctantly, Mikasa leaves for Hizuru. Karina is upset that her son is still sacrificing himself & his own feelings even after being relieved of his Titan powers and its curse.

Karina tells him, "You've lived your life for me and for our family, Reiner. Now it's time for you to live for yourself."

Reiner thinks he's lost the only chance he still has left as Mikasa is already en route to the East Sea country. It is Armin who tells him that the Azumabito's ship is still docked at the nearest harbor because Armin has suspicions that Reiner will change his mind.

When Reiner, Armin, Jean and Annie reach the harbor, the sun is almost setting and Reiner finally revives his dwindling courage to tell her how he truly feels about her and he would like to remain by her side if she'd allow it.

Kiyomi forewarns Reiner that if he is serious about her kin, then he would have to sacrifice his newly-found freedom from being a soldier and titan shifter to become prince consort to their new imperial monarch.

Reiner only says, "I am as good as dead without Mikasa and my freedom means nothing if I'm spending the rest of my life without her."

In the sunset of the New World built from ashes, the two young loves finally seize the courage to pledge their hearts to one another with a kiss; the first of the many in their life together, which is only beginning.

*Continues in Pt. II

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

Thank you once again for the beautiful Ask! I truly enjoyed working on this ❤ Also, please don't ever feel that you need to apologize to another ESL speaker/writer for the language. We're always learning 💖 Take care! xoxo

[theartofimagining13]

WRITTEN BY: A.Wölf.

BASED ON: Imagine: After a big discussion with your fiancé Tom...

CHAPTER 3 (FINAL): THE WEDDING GUEST

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS: 1 DISENGAGEMENT | 2 THE TALE OF THE OFFENSE

TEASER  |  POSTER

As Pedro had assured, Tom did in fact forgive my little indiscretion. Not without giving me a hard time and making me swear one million times that I would never do it again, of course. It was like a very long trial and I was waiting to be sentenced by my fiancé. But there are always tiny holes in the law that defense attorneys creep into in order to save the guilty from the death penalty. That’s how I was absolved from my sins; my closing argument went something like this:

“It was a one-time thing. I was blinded by anger. And, technically, it wasn’t cheating. I had left my engagement ring on the bedside table.”

Hey, all is fair in love and war; even cynicism.

“And where did you spend the night anyway, Thomas?”

Touché.

Where had he spent the night indeed and why would I believe him? Implying that he could’ve been with someone else as well while I was at home, alone all night, was what finally made him reconsider everything. I obviously snapped when I woke up in the morning and he wasn’t there and… the rest is history. What about Pedro? Well, men understand men. However, Tom never wanted to see him again and they hadn’t spoken since that day. Pedro was found guilty and that friendship was sentenced to death. Case closed. Jury, pound the gavel.

I kept my promise and behaved. I didn’t see nor talked to Pedro the weeks leading up to the wedding, and Tom was obviously a bit paranoid and constantly checking on me. The more I behaved, the more he believed in me again.

The sound of a mug being placed on the coffee table in front of me suddenly brought me back to my living room and the book in my hands. I glanced up to see Tom sitting across from me with a mug of his own.

“Thanks.” I said with a smile as I reached for the hot chocolate he had been kind enough to make.

“Sure.”

I could see that he was nervous. He was sitting on the edge of the couch, just staring at the hot beverage in his hands. His lips parted and closed a couple times until he cleared his throat.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“What do you mean?”

“D-do… do you still want to do this?”

I felt a pinch of guilt in the pit of my stomach at the vulnerability in his tone. It resembled a kid’s after they’ve been scolded and traumatized.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” I calmly inquired.

He sighed and placed the mug on the coffee table and hesitated for a while but finally looked me in the eye.

“More than ever.” He said.

I swallowed hard.

“I just-” He carried on. “I just need to know that I’m not pressuring you because… maybe… I proposed too soon and that had something… or a lot to do with what-”

“Tom,” I had to stop him. “You cannot blame yourself for that.” I closed and left the book on the couch to get closer to him and hold his hand. “I made a mistake, and I am here because I want to be. That’s… if you’ll still take me, of course.”

I felt him holding my hand tighter before he leaned in and kissed me tenderly, almost thankful.

“You’re not going to run away on our wedding day, are you?” He half-teased.

I giggled, bit my bottom lip and shook my head as I leaned in for a second kiss. Maybe the Pedro situation still needed closure. Maybe this was it.

Maybe it was wedding jitters.

Someone from the catering service came to my table and whispered something in my ear that sent a chill up my spine.

I gave a discreet nod and then looked at my brand new husband and smiled for him. I waited a couple minutes and excused myself to go to the ladies’ room. I walked in a different direction; towards the parking lot of our wedding venue where a black pickup truck flashed its headlights at me.

“You have got to be kidding me.” I mumbled to myself as I ventured into the woods surrounding the parking lot and up a small hill where the truck was semi-hidden.

I was in a wedding dress and heels, for fuck’s sake. Of course I was mad.

I opened the passenger door and cocked my head at the sight of Pedro in a dark suit, white shirt, undone bowtie, behind the wheel and with beer number who knows in hand, since there were several empty glass bottles scattered on the backseat.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I said while folding my arms across my chest.

“Get in. Close the door.” He demanded.

Once I did, and looked ahead, I realized why he had chosen to park on the small hill. You could see the whole venue from there.

“Are you seriously watching my wedding from the parking lot with a portable beer cooler like a fucking redneck who didn’t get tickets to a concert?”

He ignored my insult and smiled. Mischievously like only he could.

“I couldn’t miss it.”

“If Tom sees you here, the only thing I’ll be getting on my wedding night is a divorce.”

“You look beautiful.”

Pedro was definitely tipsy. I had just had my first dance with my new husband, and here I was, ten minutes later, in my imprudent lover’s car.

“Pedro, what do you want?” I calmly asked.

“I guess I came here to say… congratulations.” He added with laziness on the last word and while leaning against the car seat headrest. “I sent you guys a gift with the waiter. The one with the gold polka dots. It doesn’t have a note.”

I frowned. Was he crazy?

“Thank you.” I cleared my throat. “I have to go back. You should leave, Pedro. This won’t end well if anyone sees us.”

I reached for the door handle but before I could get out, he took my left hand in his. When I looked at him, he was staring at my engagement and wedding ring set while deep in thought.

“Would you have said yes if I had given you one of these?”

I gave him a don’t-even-go-there kind of look. I hadn’t seen this man since our last encounter that had ended in tragedy and drama over not only Tom finding out about the affair but also Pedro’s strong aversion to any type of commitment. Some people were allergic to shellfish; my lover was allergic to love.

“I thought you didn’t do rings…” I said.  

“You do know why I said that the other day, right?” He asked.

I sighed with frustration and moved my hand away.

“I don’t know… because you hate the idea of marriage?”

“No, mi amor.” He chuckled. “Because I am not the man for you.”

I was starting to get mad.

“You’re too good for me.” He added.

I was mad. He “wasn’t the man for me” and apparently not good enough for me but he sure could fuck me, the shameless son of a bitch, who also added,

“I know what you’re thinking but… things aren’t black or white.”

Something finally clicked and the things Pedro had said in the past filled my mind. “Women like you”, “I feel like Beauty and the Beast.”, “Tom is the man you marry”, “I’m not the man for you.”, and the sight of him now; absolute resignation making peace with the fate he knew we could only share. Or he was settling for.

This man truthfully couldn’t see his own beauty but seemed overwhelmed by mine, which perhaps, I wasn’t seeing either. 

“So, the shades of gray are your many insecurities, is that what you’re trying to say?” I asked.

“I constantly ask myself how you ended up in bed with me.” He took a big swig of beer.

“Well, maybe you won’t have to anymore.” I said with a sarcastic tone.

Pedro got closer to me. He stared at my lips and swallowed hard. I knew he wanted to kiss me but he was restraining himself to somehow “respect” my wedding at little bit. The thought of me in this ethereal white dress, wildly kissing this currently scruffy-looking-fellow, was inexplicably appealing. But I, for once, kept still.

Let him suffer now.

“I will be here until you no longer want me.” He murmured. “Until you tell me you’re sick of me.”

I was furious. I stared straight ahead and saw Tom on the dance floor with a big smile on his face and realized many, many things. Were it not for these deep-rooted insecurities Pedro lived his life with, perhaps, we could’ve had it all. This is all I could ever be to him, a lover, a trophy of some sort because he thought he was unworthy of me. Ironically enough, he was so used to that belief that he would never risk taking a bigger step with me.

If I was such an “accomplishment” for him, then why wasn’t he willing to do something greater to keep me in his life? Truth is, I would’ve loved to be Pedro’s girlfriend at least. I loved the sound of that, even the aesthetic. But that was never even a possibility because he would always self-sabotage. And there Tom was, dancing, celebrating and showing the world he loved me and had me in his life, and all Pedro wanted was a smidgen of that.

I was only an ego boost, and a woman Pedro could not handle in the long run.

I forced a smile for him and got out of the car.

People accept the love they think they deserve, and Pedro, Tom, and I were playing by this rule that formed a triangle of tough love. I wasn’t so different to Pedro. I had sabotaged my healthy relationship. Did I feel like I didn’t deserve it then? Did Tom feel like he deserved my betrayal?

In this moment of clarity, I was sure now that I’d either have to break the chain or force therapy on each of us. I closed the door and started to walk away but Pedro called out my name as he rolled down the window to speak one more time.

“Give me a call when you come back from your honeymoon.”

I half-smiled and walked away.

Had I finally learned?