kaiyen
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Clinging to a crumbling marriage, BJ hasn’t written to Hawkeye in five years. A phone call from an old friend after the death of Hawkeye’s father sends him across the country to fix his mistakes.
Something like dread begins to pool in his stomach, seeping in through the carefully sealed cracks. Margaret wouldn’t call like this without it being an emergency, he reasons. If she wanted to get back in touch with him, she would write. This feels important.
Margaret seems to steel herself. “Just…have you heard from Hawkeye lately?”
Ice flows through his veins. His stomach drops. “No.”
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Peg leaves BJ. Naturally, Hawkeye drops everything to fly 3000 miles and take up residence in his beach house.
“You okay?” he asks gently.
BJ nods. He’s more okay than he’s been in a long time. “I used to worry that if I were to see you again, it’d be like meeting a stranger.”
“Come on,” Hawkeye says, smiling. “We were never strangers.”
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All of BJ’s letters sit in a draw in his desk. He reads them sometimes and remembers why he stopped writing back. They feel false, cheery in the way BJ used to write to Peg about the war. A story about a life Hawkeye has no place in.
Maybe he’s not doing such a good job of moving on.
or; two people meet at the wrong time and then re-meet at the right one
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After months of silence from Hawkeye, BJ finally goes to Maine when his marriage breaks apart.
BJ loves Peg. He also loves Hawkeye. He’s known that for years, knew it while they were still in Korea, never thinking anything of it. He just loves them in different ways, as one is supposed to between their spouse and their friends. It has come to his attention that he may have got it the wrong way around.
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something we can't put our finger on at all by kaiyen
Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
12 Jan 2020
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All he can hear are Roach's hoof-beats against dry, trodden earth, no soft twangs of lute strings or Jaskier’s incessant chatter. His back feels inexplicably exposed – on longer journeys with the bard, he’d offer Jaskier a ride out of pity (or kindness, possibly, though he would never admit it) and he’d lean against Geralt’s back as easy as anything, facing backwards so he could continue his newest composition all the while. Something stirs in his gut.
Witchers don’t feel.
What a load of shit.
or; after parting ways, jaskier immediately gets himself into trouble and geralt apologises
Recent bookmarks
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“It’s very nice to meet you,” said the erstwhile ice-cube. He had a warm, deep voice; unaffected by his long sleep as the rest of him. It really was spooky. Francis had looked up the daguerreotype: a rusted and pitted old thing, scanned into some museum’s system, taken nearly two centuries ago of a man who had hardly aged a day since.
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Francis Crozier, a grumpy history professor, is assigned to introduce a recently unfrozen Victorian naval commander to the wonders of the modern era. Sparks fly, and all that.
Bookmarked by kaiyen
06 Mar 2022
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Francis Crozier is the Chief Whip of a beleaguered Labour Party. His best friend's abandoned him and his party leader's an idiot. And then there's the posh bastards on the other side, especially that shiny-haired eejit Fitzjames...
Bookmarked by kaiyen
26 Dec 2021
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In James’s arms and out of the sight of God, Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier was in love.
Bookmarked by kaiyen
23 Dec 2021
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“Captain Whitfield,” Margaret says politely. “I hope you’ve been settling in alright.”
“I have been, thank you,” Helen says. “I’d love if you would call me Helen, though.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Margaret says. After a pause, she adds, “You know, I don’t mean to be rude, but most of the other nurses tend to eat together. You know, not with the ranking officers.”
“There’s not any rule against it, is there?” Helen says, and then, before Margaret can reply, she adds, “I mean, do you not want me here?”
That’s the problem, Margaret thinks. I want you here more than I should. Despite herself, she finds that she doesn’t want to be outright rude to Helen, even though that might put an end to all of this much more quickly. So instead, having already eaten a bit of her breakfast already, Margaret finds herself standing up abruptly and saying, “I actually really have a lot of work to do. I hope you have a great breakfast, though.” I hope you have a great breakfast? What the hell am I saying?
“Alright,” Helen says easily, not looking offended in the slightest. “But I’m taking a rain check on this. This and that card game you promised me earlier.”
Bookmarked by kaiyen
09 Jul 2021
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“You,” BJ said aloud, as the hum of the hospital continued around them. There was no adequate end to the sentence. You have to wake up, so I can tell you I need you. BJ felt tears stinging his eyes as they formed, and he blinked them furiously away. He noted that someone had cleared the vomit from Hawkeye’s face, and the blood from his hair.
In another life, maybe, far into the future when the lines began to blur further, he thought he might have been meant to be a nurse, to take care with people who were beloved to someone, to clean their hair and their hands and to dress them in gowns and bedclothes. No more cutting, no more blood. He’d always thought Margaret would have done well in their shoes, but he never thought about taking hers. Or maybe it was all nonsense, and it was only Hawkeye whose troubles he wanted to smooth away.Bookmarked by kaiyen
30 Jun 2021