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pricelessemotion · 4 months ago

Text

Labyrinth | Javy "Coyote" Machado

pairing: Javy "Coyote" Machado x fem!reader (prev Jake "Hangman" Seresin x fem!reader)

summary: [4k] Jake may be gone, but Javy isn't. The two of you navigate your lives and your grief. Together.

warnings: jake is dead, RIP jake, grief and mourning, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, sickfic moment, friends to roommates to ...?

a/n: coming out of my writer cave to post a tgm fic that nobody asked for. idk why I became obsessed with the idea of jake's widow!reader falling in love w javy but here we are! enjoy and lmk what you think <3

read on ao3 | navigation

Lieutenant Commander Jacob Michael Seresin died on a Tuesday morning. At least that’s what they tell you, you don’t remember much of the days and weeks surrounding his death.

You flip the funeral card in your hand, over and over and over again. No expense was spared. It’s textured cardstock with fancy but easily legible cursive font. It reminds you of your wedding invitations. The back is a picture of him in his dress whites, face unsmiling. The same dress whites he’s going to be buried in.

Lieutenant Commander Jacob Michael Seresin was called home

Funeral to take place at Graham's Memorial Home

Reception to follow

Called home. It’s such an interesting phrase. It suggests that he’s meant to be wherever he is now. That the house that you bought together, the plans that you made were all just a waiting room until Saint Peter called his name.

You never considered yourself particularly religious. Jake, being born and raised in Texas, was a god-fearing Christian man. He believed in heaven and an afterlife. You’ve always been on the fence.

The day of the funeral, there isn’t a cloud in the sky. You want to scream and laugh at the same time but the only sound that escapes your mouth is a strangled gasp that has Javy taking you into his arms. It had rained on your wedding day. Poured would be a more accurate description. The officiant said he had never seen that big of a meteorological turnaround in all of his forty years of weddings. Due to California existing in a near-constant state of drought, there simply wasn’t the infrastructure in place to support the torrential downpour. Most of your guests had been left stranded in other states, their flights being put on a constant loop of rescheduling and then cancellation.

You thought it was a sign. An omen. Now you wonder if maybe it was.

Jake had simply shaken his head and laughed. He was never one for superstitions. It’s what made him a good pilot. He relied on skill and instinct. He said that there was no way in hell that a little water was going to get in the way of him marrying the love of his life.

His mother lightly smacked him on the bicep for using such language in a house of god, before subsequently melting and muttering how she must’ve done something right.

You think that this unnatural weather must’ve been his doing. It had been overcast and depressing all week. Or at least, as far as you could tell from your brief moments of lucidity before descending back into a fugue state. You know that he always hated the days that were few and far between when the weather would be too bad for him to properly run drills or train new recruits.

You loved the man more than anything. He always reminded you of the sky, the way he took you to heights that you had never even imagined before. Still, despite the thrill and the rush of adrenaline, all you could think about was the fear of falling.

Husbands and children have been left back in Texas. Jake’s mom and sisters have taken over the house. There’s not a dish left unwashed nor a basket of laundry left unfolded. You've eaten more casserole in the last week than you have before in your entire life. The fridge is filled to the brim with tin foiled pans that people will probably want back but won't bother asking for if they don't. Despite the array of choices, they all taste the same. Ashen and tasteless is the I’m-sorry-your-husband-died special.

The house is more lively than it usually is, with four Seresin women milling around. You see him in them. In the quirk of their mouths, the tilt of their heads when they’re thinking about something, the hard line of their jaws when they hold back their tears. You can barely look his mother in the eyes because they’re his.

They try to take you everywhere with them. Trips to the grocery store and walks around the neighborhood are treated as milestones when you spend most days unable to get out of bed.

On one of the drives, you can’t remember which one or even where you were heading to they all seem to blur together in the end, you passed by a car wash. Jake would usually handle all the car stuff himself, but he told you to go here when he was on deployment because it was the only place that didn’t upcharge for ridiculous shit. They have one of those inflatable tube men outside. Waiting at the intersection for the light to turn green, you’re stuck looking at him.

When they do finally leave, it's with little fanfare. They remind you of the food in the fridge and the local bereavement group they found. Kisses on cheeks are exchanged and you stand like one of those inflatable tube men at the end of the driveway, mechanically waving goodbye.

Once the cars are gone from view, it’s like someone’s turned off the fan that’s kept you upright. You crumple to the ground.

–

Javy tries his best to decode the text that you sent him while his phone had been in his gym locker. The series of texts seems to get more and more incoherent as time went on. He was used to this by now. He had told you that you could talk to him about your grief at any time and that he would always be there for you.

Which is how Javy comes to find you here.

You’re on the ground outside. Green California grass caresses your fingertips, despite the near-constant state of drought. You know you came out here to look at the stars but closed your eyes when you could feel the Earth spinning.

You feel like the two-headed calf because there are twice as many stars as usual. The Earth spins at a rate of 1,000 miles per hour. You swear, right there in the grass, that you can feel every single mile. You’re holding on for dear life.

“Jake said that when he was a kid, he used to believe that stars were actually holes in the sky. The white light that came through was Heaven. He used to sit on the grass and look up and dig his fingers into the dirt. ‘Said he was scared that if he let go he’d float away.”

Javy only hums in response. Slowly, his left hand nudges your right one. The warmth of his palm covers you and despite yourself, despite marring and ripping apart the beautiful meticulously cared-for lawn, you let go.

When your hand rises to meet his, it’s not without a few casualties. Blades of grass are plucked from the ground making snapping sounds like muffled guitar strings. It’s the saddest sound you’ve ever heard.

–

“I’m thinking about selling the house.”

The words hang in dead air. There’s a slight pause in Javy’s movements. From behind, you can see the muscles beneath his flannel tighten up before they relax again. He resumes stirring his coffee, the spoon hitting the sides of the ceramic mug with muted ting ting ting sounds.

The mug itself is UT Austin merch from many moons ago. It’s Jake’s favorite. Or at least, it was Jake’s favorite. The mug used to remind you of quiet Sunday mornings and waffles for two. Now it just reminds you that he drank from it and put it in the dishwasher, thinking that he would get another Sunday, another cup of coffee.

You’re not mad at all that Javy is using it. On the contrary, you’re glad that the mug is being used for its purpose. That it’s not being memorialized and thus, rendered functionally useless. It drove you crazy to see it sitting in the cabinet collecting dust, but you refused to be the one to drink from it. It’s good that this memory of him is momentary and not a monument.

Javy takes a long sip from his mug, cradling it in both hands as he leans into the kitchen counter behind him. “When you say thinking what do you mean?”

Javy knows you too well. He knows that if you’re telling him about it, then it’s pretty much already decided. You’ve gone about every major decision in your life this way. You research and refine results until you’re sure that the way you’ve chosen is the only way forward. It’s how you decided that being with Jake was worth the risk of losing him.

You never said that it was a foolproof system, just that it was the system you’ve always used.

“I mean that I’ve already gotten the house appraised and have been talking to a realtor. She thinks we could list it and sell it before the year is out.”

Javy blows out a breath, puffing out his full lips. He swirls his coffee cup once, twice before taking a sip and asking, “Are you sure that this is what you want?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I can’t–” Your voice thickens until it breaks, the words brittle. I can’t keep living in a haunted house.

Javy nods, taking another sip before setting the cup down on the counter and saying the last thing you expected, “Move in with me.”

–

Moving out occurs with very little fuss. The other daggers drop in and out, taping boxes and dropping them off at Goodwill per your request, but everyone seems to be keeping a respectful, yet unnecessary distance.

Before you even touched a single cardboard box, Javy went from room to room and photographed everything. From the arrangement of the magnets on the fridge to the clutter on your bedside table. He insisted that one day these would be memories to hold back on. That it wasn’t the house's fault that it was haunted. That sometimes ghosts don’t have to haunt you.

You’re beyond the point of sentimentality anymore. If you were, you’d still be catatonic on the couch, refusing to sleep in the bedroom you once shared with your husband. Everything is objective. Every dish is just a dish and not the first real set of glassware that you bought for the house after eating off of paper plates when the movers accidentally dropped the boxed marked kitchen FRAGILE off the side of the truck.

You’re glad that all of the Christmas ornaments are still boxed up in the attic. There’s one in particular that you loved. The one that you put on the tree first every single Christmas. It was the ornament Jake got you when you first got together. A silly little reindeer.

You’ve mostly gotten everything out of the kitchen now. The shelves are bare and now you will once again have to resort to paper plates and plastic forks until this move is over. You haven’t seen your new roommate–God, it’s still weird to think of him like that–in a while so you tentatively call out his name.

“Javy?” Your voice is rough from hours of speechless focus. It cracks and breaks the silence of the house like a pebble on a windshield.

He doesn’t respond. You call out again, removing your gloves and moving towards the staircase. The door to Jake’s office is left ajar. Javy volunteered to pack up the room and you let him without a fight. Jake didn’t spend too much time in his office when he was home. Honestly, you think it might’ve saddened you more to see his legal pads and his sticky notes with reminders that he’ll never get the chance to forget.

You knock, easing the door open and softly calling out Javy’s name before you stop. There he is in the middle of the floor, head to his knees, back shaking with silent sobs. You crumble immediately. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and feel his wet face causing the fabric to stick to your collarbone. You don’t care.

It occurs to you that the roles have finally been reversed. All these months, you’ve been so grateful for Javy’s steadiness. His immovability. You thought his lack of tears had been because he was processing his emotions in a way that was different than yours. You thought maybe he was better at compartmentalization than you were. And maybe that was true.

You look around the room, hoping to find the catalyst for what caused this breakdown. Maybe there was a picture from the good old days, or an old card that Jake always meant to give him but never remembered to. But looking around, you come up empty. That’s when you realize that it’s not one single thing that set Javy off. It’s everything. It’s the dust on the keyboard. It’s the stale air. It’s the way the calendar on the wall has an X drawn through every day and then stopped in the middle of June. It’s the World War II book that has a bookmark placed so close to the end, you wonder if Jake was leaving the epilogue until after he came home from work.

It’s been hours since Javy made his way up here. The two boxes he brought with him sit flat behind the door. They haven’t even been folded out.

So you just sit there with him, rocking slightly back and forth. This continues until he leans back and spreads himself out on the carpet, not unlike the way you did all those months ago in the backyard. You burrow into his side, your ear pressed to his heart, paying attention to the furious tempo. You lay there until the hiccups in his breathing cease and the rise and fall of his chest is as rhythmic as waves crashing on the San Diego shore.

–

“You can lay down, y’know? This is your couch after all.” The gray L-shaped sectional is more than big enough for both you and Javy, who has been trying and failing to stay upright for the past twenty minutes.

“First of all, this is our couch. Second of all, I will lay down thank you for offering.”

He starts out perpendicular to you. His large frame takes up most of the sofa cushions. Though it can’t be comfortable for an extended time, he stays propped up on his elbow, making jokes about whatever's on TV. His exhaustion starts to take over and his elbow slips, one, two, three times. He always catches himself before his head drops too far, agile and responsive even when fighting sleep.

You know you can’t outright offer it to him, so you go for the next best thing. Leaning back, you shift your position until your blanketed thigh is touching his bicep. From there, it’s only a matter of time until Javy gives in to the sands of time and his head falls into your lap.

You’ve missed this, you realize. There are a lot of things that you miss about Jake, specifically. But this, the simple act of being close to someone. The simple choice to be there for someone else to lean on. Joy and guilt are like lightning and thunder. When one comes the other will soon follow.

You think about this from the outside looking in. Javy coming home, kissing your cheek, telling you about his day. Him cooking dinner while you do laundry. You doing the dishes while he does the crossword. The two of you, lying down on the couch after a long day and watching television together. The scene is exceedingly domestic in a way that makes your cheeks tingle and your chest ache.

Your left thumb instinctually goes to caress the base of your ring finger, only to come up empty. Your heart drops to your stomach. Then, you remember. You always take off your rings when doing the dishes. It was best practice, to make sure that the delicate gems wouldn’t get unnecessarily tarnished. You’d never once forgotten to put them back on, though.

You linger on the absence of the rings and the presence of the man sleeping soundly right beside you. Joy and guilt. Lightning and thunder.

–

There are large hands around your waist. Lips flush against the skin of your neck, murmuring and muttering words of praise and astonishment. Those hands slip lower and lower, rucking up the hem of your nightgown to your waist. Calloused fingertips brush the junction of your thighs and you feel heat licking up your center.

Look at me while you come for me, baby.

You do look up, mind overtaken by heat and lust and longing. Your breath catches in your throat. You know this jawline. You know these lips. You know that voice.

Say my name.

Your mouth goes to form the word but you lose yourself in huffs of breath and twisted sheets. You wake, just as you hit your peak. The sound that was so difficult to make in your dream state emerges from your mouth, watery and wanting.

Javy.

–

You spend the next three days locked in your room. You take all your meals to go, even though you can see the disappointment on Javy’s face every time you do. Disappointment you only see when you are confident that you can look at him without bursting into flames. The opportunity is few and far between these days. He’s always in the background. Asking if you’d like to accompany him to the store or go on a hike. Your answer is always the same.

Your forced solitude only lasts for another two days before Javy politely knocks on your door and enters your room. You mumble out a lackluster greeting barely looking up from your laptop or your desk. There’s a water stain near your left wrist, a circular ring that matches the bottom of your favorite mug.

“Are you gonna tell me why you’re avoiding me?”

Maybe you should get a coaster. Civilized people used coasters, didn’t they? Civilized people used coasters and went hiking and did not have sex dreams about their dead husband’s best friend.

Javy says your name. It sounds weary. Like he’s approaching a wounded deer, hoping that she’ll let him near her before she goes running off into the forest to bleed out alone.

He sighs and sits on the edge of your bed, keeping a respectful distance. The mattress dips under the weight of him.

“Is it because we’re living together now? Do you—“ He clears his throat and suddenly, despite being well over six feet tall, he looks small. “Do you regret moving in together?”

You realize now that you’re not the deer. Javy is. He was living a fine and peaceful existence before you showed up with a shotgun and a need for flesh.

His question is tentative. Bleeding out in a forest alone doesn’t sound so bad, all things considered.

“No!” You blurt out your answer so fast it almost startles you. You take a moment, “No that’s not it at all.”

“Then what is it? Is it something I did?”

“Not exactly.”

“It’s just–God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this–I had a dream.”

“Like a nightmare? You know you can talk to me about those–”

“Not that kind of dream.” Javy had been helpful with nightmares in the past. He knew how to calm you down, especially when you realized that waking up didn’t necessarily mean that the nightmare was over.

He sits there, earnest and sympathetic and terribly understanding in a way that you don’t deserve and don’t know if you can handle right now.

“It was a sex dream.” You breathe out, cheeks hot and fists rumpled in your bedsheets.

“Oh. Oh.”

You both sit in silence for a moment. Javy decides to break it.

“Was it– Was I–” He tries so hard to make the words come out, but nothing does. His hands rest on his thighs and he furrows his brows and directs his gaze to the carpet.

“I think it was because we’ve been around each other so much. And obviously, it’s been a while.”

Javy agrees with you because of course he does. You try to breathe some lightness into your tone, anything to battle this heaviness that’s sunken into the conversation. “It’s crazy how the human brain works, right?”

Javy’s eyes drop to your lips, but only for a second. He smiles politely and bows his head in subtle agreement. “It is crazy.”

–

Flu season passes through San Diego like a plague. It seems every week, another one of your coworkers is out, whether it be their own health in distress or their children’s. It was only a matter of time before it came to you.

Despite having gotten your flu shot, you experience probably the worst bout of sickness in your life. You’re bundled up on your bed, fluffy robe with the drawstring pulled tight. Javy is hovering in the hallway–because that seems to be his neutral state of being these days, hovering. He dares not to open the door because of your self-imposed quarantine. You’ve created an imaginary moat of used tissues and dirty clothes, all to protect the fire-breathing dragon that is your feverish body.

“If you don’t go, I will strangle you.” You threaten, though it comes out weak and nasal.

“I can always reschedule–”

“You’ve been rescheduling on this girl for two weeks! I’ll be fine, I promise! I’m probably just going to watch old episodes of New Girl until I pass out from exhaustion.”

“Fine, but if you need anything–anything at all–just text me or call me.”

You verbally push Javy out of the door with more assurances and less thinly veiled threats. Things have been awkward between the two of you since your confession. You’re almost relieved at your sickness and the way it has allowed you to avoid more unnecessary face-to-face contact. At least that’s what you tell yourself. But when you hear the front door shut and the sound of Javy’s engine starting up, you look around the room. Running your hands over the wrinkled bedding, a feeling almost like loneliness settles over you.

–

It was an unfortunate ending to a mild evening. A broken Javy crackled over the speaker before he was speeding his way across town.

You’re shivering by the time he reaches you. Which makes no sense because you’re so hot that Javy hisses when his palm touches your clammy forehead. He’s about to scoop you up and load you into the back seat of his car when you come to. You murmur and whine and he tells you that he’s got you and he’s here. He explains that he’s gonna take you to the hospital and that seems to be the only thing that breaks you out of your feverish state because you open your eyes and tell him No hospital.

He’s lucky that the upholstered lounge chair in the corner of your room is as comfy as it is because that’s where he stays for the rest of the night. He holds a cold damp cloth to your forehead, murmuring apologies when you whimper at the disorienting change in temperature. He routinely uses a thermometer, because damn your wishes if it means that you die in this bed on his watch. Your fever stays just below the concerning range and it isn’t until 4 am that it finally breaks.

Only then does Javy let himself fall asleep.

You wake up weak and disoriented. Javy pulled up the chair from the corner of the room to right next to the bed. After a bowl of soup, he convinces you to take a bath and changes out your sweat-soaked flannel sheets for fresh ones straight from the dryer.

“Oh my god, your date! I’m so sorry—“

Javy waves you off with a wave and a gentle dismissal. He insists it’s fine. That there was no spark anyways.

It’s not until you’re tucked under the covers with half a cup of tea on your nightstand that he slips into the hallway and sends out a text.

Had a lovely time last night.

I just don’t think I’m in the right headspace for a relationship right now.

I hope you understand.

#top gun maverick #javy coyote machado #javy machado x reader #javy machado #javy machado fanfiction #jake seresin angst #jake seresin x reader #javy machado oneshot #javy coyote machado oneshot #javy coyote machado x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction

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altijdjouwnaantje · 1 year ago

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So y'all know about the ADHD audicity of "well I've never done this, how hard can it be?" right? Well, my undiagnosed mom just went through another iteration of that one.

My mom is an artisan and an artist who started sewing 44 years ago by refashioning my fathers worn-out trousers into tiny baby overalls for my big brother. By necessity because money was tight at the time.

Her skills have grown and grown with clothes and fancy dress for us four kids. By the time I was in elementary school she designed and produced many costumes for a local production of Hendrik Ibsen's Peer Gynt.

So when Raf started talking about his wish to make giants in the Flemish tradition, of course my mom found herself recruited to take on the project.

Last year, she made the stunning costume and bosoms for giantess farmer Anna Serafina De Groote ("Fientje"). The first head that was commisioned for this giantess did not turn out like the beautiful young farmer on the brief, but more like an elderly stroke victim... (Not pictured)

My mom stated she thought she'd be able to do a better job, so naturally she got recruited to do just that.

Over the course of the past year my mom made three giant shoulder pieces, two giant heads, two pairs of giant hands, one giant bonnet and the entire costume for her second giant, Emiel Antoon De Creeser ("Miele"/"Miel")

Of course, because she's extra, she did soooo many calculations to have pretty accurate anatomical proportions. And since last year, the measurements provided for the carrying structure were off, this year, she lengthened Fientje's sleeves, added lace trim over the seamline and added gorgeous cuffs:

The hands are made from shapewear and batting and they also have thick metal wiring in the fingers, which allow the giants to hold things like this basket:

Yesterday was the parade and the giants danced!

After the parade, Miele donned an extra piece of clothing:

A giant version of the vests for volunteers who help keep the neighbourhood clean by picking up litter.

That lettering? Again, my mum calculated how big the logo would need to be to be proportioned equally with a regular size vest, scaled up each individual letter, and drew them all on with permanent marker.

Ivago is the local waste collection and recycling municipality, and they're the "godparents" for this new giant.

So yeah. From sewing overalls for a baby over carnaval costumes and dressing four kids and costuming theatrical productions to making and dressing a 3.5m giant. That's ADHD audacity.

#actually adhd #sewing #giants #sculpting #painting #congrats mom!

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 year ago

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Hanged man with frankie please!

thank you for the request 💕

tarot pull: hanged man - reverse

meaning: the hanged man in reverse can indicate impulsive and rash decisions.

title: invisible string

pairing: frankie morales x female reader (nicknamed Baby)

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 5472

summary:

After fifteen years, the invisible string that ties you to Frankie Morales pulls you back together.

author's note: i had this in the works before my tarot announcement but it fits great, so i hope you enjoy. please consider reblogging or commenting if you do!

content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, friends to lovers to strangers to lovers, childhood sweethearts, reunion, reader is nicknamed Baby, potentially bad spanish translations, alcohol consumption, dance floor altercations, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v, dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, multiple orgasms, references to their childhood together, enlistment. let me know if any are missing!

Frankie vividly remembers the day that he met the love of his life.

He was six years old, a gangly kid with messy brown curls running barefoot around the ranch, catching frogs in the stream before the sun got too low in the sky and his mamá called him inside for dinner. He heard the moving truck and peeked at the palatial property that bordered his parent’s own humble farm. Men carried furniture and boxes from the trucks while another man watched on, hands on his hips in the same way Frankie’s own dad would watch him to make sure he cleaned up his room.

A blur of movement darted from the front door, startling two men carrying a rather ugly floral couch. The blur barreled straight into the legs of the man in charge, and Frankie watched his stoic face light up as he wrapped his arms around what appeared to be a young girl.

Later that night, at the dinner table, his parents discussed the new neighbors, and how they wanted to welcome them to their new home. The next day, his mamá baked two loaves of bread and collected some eggs from the coop, arranging them in a basket that she placed in Frankie’s arms with a warning to watch his step as they made their way next door.

His papá knocked on the door, smoothing his hands down his Wranglers. The door was opened by a lady he hadn’t seen while spying yesterday. She looked kind and gentle, and had welcomed them inside, thanking them profusely for the basket. Frankie had looked around the grand entrance, all marble and gold, before the man appeared. He shook hands with his parents, thanking them as well and offering everyone a drink.

Then the blur came down the stairs and Frankie got his first good look at you. A girl with big, bright eyes and an uneven smile.

“Oh, there you are, sweetheart.” Your mamá opened her arms to you, which you folded yourself into as you peeked shyly at Frankie and his family. “This is the Morales family. They live on the farm next door, and they brought us a gift.”

“Hi,” you said, waving your hand.

Your mamá had introduced you by name but added, “Everyone just calls her Baby.”

You’d looked Frankie right in the eye before grabbing his hand excitedly. “You wanna go find tadpoles in the pond?”

“Sure!”

And that was the start of it all.

________

Frankie also vividly remembers the day he lost the love of his life.

He was eighteen and about to graduate from high school with no solid plan. All he knew is that he wanted to fly.

The problem with that dream was the price tag.

With that in mind, the Army recruiting table called out to him. They would pay for flight training. He barely had to hear about anything else before he signed his name.

“I’m gonna learn how to fly!” He announced that night at dinner, waving his enlistment agreement in the air. The conversation around the table went quiet.

“Mijo…,” his papá had said, eyes flicking to you.

He’d been too excited to see the pain in your features.

“They’ll pay for flight school, and there’s an enlistment bonus,” he continues.

“If…if that’s what you want to do,” his mamá said with a watery smile. She picked up her empty plate, nudging his papá with her elbow. “Help me in the kitchen.”

His papá had given him one last loaded look before following his wife through the doorway. Frankie turned to you.

“I know it’s a lot, but as soon as you graduate we can get married and then you’ll be able to live on the base with me,” he told you as he reached for your hand.

You pulled back. “What are you talking about, Frankie?”

“I’ve got it all planned out. You graduate next year, we get married, and then you can move in with me.”

“But…what about college? You know I want to go to school.”

Frankie huffed. “You can go to school online or somewhere near base.”

“That’s not…,” you trailed off. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears from your eyes. “I want to go to UCLA, remember?” Your voice was smaller than he’d ever heard it.

He rolls his eyes. “So, what? You’re not gonna come with me? What about us?”

“I…no. Why should I have to give up what I’ve been working toward? What makes your dream more important than mine?”

“This is the only way I can even touch my dream, Baby! Not all of us have a rich daddy who can buy them a college degree!”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. The gutted look on your face and the tears you refused to let fall would all brand themselves on the back of his eyelids from this point forward.

“If that’s what you really think,” you took a deep breath, “then I guess there’s nothing more to say.”

Frankie held strong despite wanting to crumble. “I guess so.”

You nodded once and stood, tossing your napkin on your plate. Without another word, you walked out the dining room and out the front door.

And out of his life.

His mamá joined him at the table and rubbed a soothing hand across his back. “Mijo,” she murmured. “Is this really what you want?”

“I want to fly,” he replied. “But I don’t…I don’t want to lose her.”

“I don’t think you’ve lost her. But I think you’ll have to find each other again.”

__________

Fifteen Years Later

Frankie’s nursing a pint of beer at the hotel bar, surrounded by his best friends and fellow soldiers. The ambient noises of Las Vegas filter through the door every time it opens. Will is giving his brother, Benny, a hard time about where he disappeared to last night when they had all been taking advantage of the casino.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Benny replies, feigning insult. “Besides you were obviously occupied enough. Bet you didn’t even miss me.”

“Oh, really? What were you occupied with exactly?” Claire, Will’s fiance, asks.

“We were playing poker,” Santi chimes in. “Will lost, by the way. Hope you weren’t looking forward to a honeymoon.”

Will punches Santi in the shoulder. Claire checks her phone. She’s waiting on her best friend and maid of honor to come down and join the group. Her flight had been late so she was running behind schedule.

Claire and Will opted not to have separate bachelor and bachelorette parties and instead wanted to do a bar crawl with everyone who’d come in early for their Vegas wedding. She’s wearing a crown and a sash proclaiming her as the bride, which her maid of honor had shipped to her ahead of time so she’d have it in case she was late.

“She’s a doctor, so her schedule’s super hectic. She was supposed to be here last night, but she had to rebook her flight for late today due to an emergency case,” Claire had explained. “I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

“Your mystery best friend,” Benny jokes. “I’m starting to think she doesn’t exist.”

Claire and Will have been together for three years now, and have decided to finally tie the knot. And for all three of those years, he and the guys have heard about her best friend and former college roommate who lives in California, but no one, not even Will, has met her.

Claire looks toward the entrance of the hotel bar and her eyes light up before she shoves away from the table, teetering on precariously high heels at a speed Frankie can’t even fathom in footwear like that. She collides with a woman in the doorway, enveloping her in a hug as she squeals.

Frankie watches in amusement before the two women turn, putting the newcomer in better view. His heart stops.

Claire drags you over to the group, introducing you by name before adding, “But everyone calls her–”

“Baby,” Frankie finishes. Your eyes go wide.

“Francisco?”

“You two know each other?” Claire asks, looking between the two of you, brows pinched in confusion.

“We used to be neighbors,” you reply softly. Frankie feels his heart fracture the slightest bit more at being reduced to just neighbors, but he supposes he deserves that.

“Wow! What a coincidence!” Claire exclaims. Frankie can feel Santi’s eyes trying to drill a hole through his head for how hard he’s staring at him. “Alright, Baby, now that you’re finally here, let’s do introductions. This is Will, obviously, you’ve seen him in pictures, and this is his best man and little brother, Benny. That’s Santi, and of course you know Frankie. Tom was supposed to come, too, but his daughter got sick so he stayed home.” She points to each man in turn. Will gives you a solid handshake. Benny and Santi both pull you into hugs. Frankie has no idea how you’re supposed to greet the woman he’s missed for fifteen years.

Thankfully, you put him out of his misery by looping your arms around his shoulders, giving him a quick squeeze that he doesn’t even have time to reciprocate before you’re pulling away. You smile politely at everyone before Claire drags you off to the bar to order a round of shots. Frankie stares after you.

“What’s the deal there?” Santi asks, arms crossed in that way that tells Frankie he better not try to lie, because it’s not going to work. He sighs.

“She was my high school sweetheart. We broke it off when I enlisted.” He runs a hand through his hair before redirecting his nervous energy into chugging the remainder of his beer. Benny’s eyes go wide.

“No shit?” He looks towards the bar, his eyes sliding over you and Claire in a way that makes Frankie’s jaw tense. “Bet you feel like a fuckin’ idiot now.”

Tell me about it, Frankie thinks.

When you and Claire return to the table with a tray of tequila and limes, the bride-to-be leads everyone in a toast.

“To good times, great friends, and better drinks,” she announces before tapping her shot glass to the table and slamming the tequila back with a tilt of her head.

Frankie watches you, files away the vision of your lips wrapped around the rim of the shot glass and the movement of your throat as you swallow the liquor. Your face screws up in disgust and you reach frantically for a lime.

He passes you one, his fingers brushing yours and sending goosebumps down his arms.

“Thanks,” you murmur, biting into the sour fruit. You glance up at him and the flutter of your lashes feels like a fist straight to the heart.

Fuck.

________

To say seeing Frankie among the group gathered for Claire and Will’s Vegas wedding was a surprise is an understatement.

After leaving the Morales ranch that evening fifteen years ago, you’d removed yourself from Frankie’s life. You didn’t attend his graduation, or the party that his parents threw him. You didn’t see him off to basic, you weren’t there when he came home for leave. You didn’t answer his calls or open his letters, still too hurt from his parting words to hear from him. Until leaving for college, you would occasionally visit Mr. and Mrs. Morales for dinner, where they would slip in little tidbits of information about how their son was doing and you did your best to pretend like you didn’t care, even though you soaked up any information they would give you.

“Frankie’s finished basic. He’s planning on applying to warrant officer candidate school…”

“Did we tell you that Frankie got to Alabama? He’s really on track to becoming a pilot…”

“Frankie finished his officer course and now he’s going to start aviation school. We’re so proud of him…”

And while Frankie chased his dream, you were admitted to UCLA, where you pursued a degree in biology on a pre-med track. Your roommate, Claire, was getting her degree in criminology on a pre-law track. You got along with her like a house on fire and you stuck by each other’s sides through undergrad, and even applied to professional school together, leaning heavily on each other through the long nights of studying.

When Claire finished law school, she moved to Florida to be closer to her parents, where she met Will while you remained in California for your residency in neurosurgery. You stayed in touch, video chatting at least once a week, sometimes more if Will was deployed.

Turns out Claire’s amazing new boyfriend came with a whole crew of men that were part of the same spec ops team as him. You’d heard their names plenty of times before, but never did you think to make a connection between “Will’s friend, Frankie” and the boy who’d broken your heart.

Now you’re shoulder to shoulder in a crowded bar with a man you’ve never met before, a part of you mourning the boy you’d left behind. But years between that night and now have left you with an understanding that you were both wrong and stubborn in the way teenagers seem especially guilty of. You’d like to get to know this new person with the face of your old love, if he’ll let you.

Claire shoulders her way through the crowd to the bar for another drink, Will pressed at her back, head swiveling around as he cases the place in the same manner the other men with you are doing as they sit around the booth with their drinks.

“You guys look like owls,” you say to Frankie. He looks at you in surprise.

“What?”

“Owls. With the head turning, scanning for threats.” You take a sip of your martini.

“Hard habit to break,” Frankie finally says after a moment, his cheeks pink in the low light.

“I’ll be back,” Benny announces, eyes focused on a group of girls in short skirts, one of which is sporting a birthday sash not unlike the bridal one you got for Claire.

Santi sighs. “I better keep an eye on him.”

That leaves you with Frankie, who’s picking at the label of his beer bottle like it’s personally offended him. He takes a deep breath.

“I should apologize,” he rushes to say. You tilt your head. “For how things ended. I’m sure you hate me—“

“I don’t hate you, Francisco.”

He looks surprised. “You don’t?”

“If you had asked me that when I was nineteen…I’d probably have a different answer. We were just dumb teenagers who didn’t know any better,” you tell him. His shoulders relax.

“You were never dumb,” he replies. “I was the idiot there, diving headfirst into something I hadn’t even thought through. Like usual.”

“You seem to be doing well, though.”

His laugh is strained. “It’s been…rough.”

“I’m sorry,” you reply, unsure of what else to say. You rest a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades, rubbing gently. He looks up at you, big brown eyes slingshotting you right back to the days where you’d catch tadpoles together, to the nights in your late teens where you’d fool around in his truck in the woods to avoid getting caught by your parents.

Claire comes back to the table with another round of shots, passing them to you and Frankie. The man beside you holds his shot glass up, an eyebrow raised at you expectantly. You tap your glass to his before shooting back the liquor, sour mix and vodka burning down your throat as you keep your eyes fixed to Frankie.

You don’t miss the way his eyes go dark as he tracks the movement of your tongue across your lips.

________

You’re on the dance floor, your body moving with Claire’s to the club mix the DJ is spinning. Will stands behind his fiancé like a guard, legs braced wide and body unmoving as she has her fun around him. His lips tilt in a little smile every time her hands slide over him.

The table Claire had dragged you from is still in view, Frankie nursing another beer with Santi and Benny, who had returned unsuccessful in their chase of the group of birthday girls. Frankie’s eyes find yours, like he can feel you looking at him.

Maybe he can. Maybe the connection between the two of you, the invisible string that’s been wrapped between your hearts since you were only children, just needs to be dusted off. Not rebuilt.

The slide of hands around your hips and fingertips on the hem of your dress breaks you from your thoughts and your movement grinds to a halt.

“Why’d you stop, gorgeous? Just wanted one little dance,” a voice says, too close to your ear and too loud over the music for comfort. You dip away, turning to confront the man. A different body presses to you, one that shouldn’t feel as familiar as it does.

“Not interested,” you shout back.

Stupidly, the man reaches out for you again. Frankie’s hand wraps around his wrist, your old love twisting the man’s arm sharply as he snaps, “She said no.”

The man’s face goes red with rage, but Frankie doesn’t give him the chance to react, using his grip on his wrist to twist it until the man is turned away, arm angled painfully and pinned to his back. Will crowds in next to Frankie while Claire presses to your side.

Frankie gives the man a harsh shove, his body breaking through the crowd of people and crashing to the ground. Men in black SECURITY shirts descend, flashlights pointed at the scene. One grabs the man on the ground while the other grasps Frankie’s shoulder, tugging him along.

“Hey, wait!” Claire starts to protest, but they keep moving.

“I’m gonna go with them,” you tell her. She nods, pulling you in to press a kiss to your cheek. You follow the security guards through the crowd until they’re at the exit, shoving both men back onto the bustling Las Vegas strip.

“Francisco!” You call after the man. He freezes, turning toward you. You look into the man’s face, searching his apologetic expression curiously.

“Sorry, Baby,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t have to leave ‘cause of me, you can go back and have fun.”

“Don’t apologize, Frankie. Come on, let’s just head back to the hotel, I was getting tired anyways.” You turn to walk away, expecting him to follow, but he grabs your wrist, gently, a juxtaposition to the bruising force he’d used on the man in the club.

“You called me Frankie,” he murmurs. Your brow furrows and seeing your confusion, he continues. “You’ve been calling me Francisco but just now…you called me Frankie.”

“I guess I did,” you murmur, your gaze trapped in his. God, the way he’s looking at you makes you feel just like when you were fifteen, when you’d been laying beside each other in the field and he worked up the courage to kiss you for the first time. The hand around your wrist slides lower, warm palm kissing yours and tangling your fingers together.

“Lead the way,” he says.

________

Frankie has the same rush in his veins that he gets when he’s flying, soaring through the clouds like nothing can touch him, and it’s all because of your hand wrapped in his and the sound of his name from your lips after fifteen long years. It awakened a dormant part of him that he buried behind memories of you, ones where you were laughing and smiling at him like he’d hung the moon and stars in your honor.

When you reach the elevators, hands still clasped, you press the button for your floor. You don’t ask which floor Frankie is on, and he doesn’t offer it. He just holds your hand tighter and smiles when you squeeze him back.

You only let go of his hand when you’re at your door, digging your room key from your purse. You swipe the card, pushing into the room and holding the door open behind you for Frankie.

The room is dark, but the blackout curtains are open, the glittering lights of the Las Vegas strip illuminating the room. You set your bag on the desk before turning to lean against it, regarding him with those keen eyes and open expression that have haunted his dreams since leaving home.

“Hi,” you murmur.

“Hi,” Frankie echoes. He takes a step closer. “What are you thinking about?”

You smile, ducking your head. “You don’t want to know.”

“Well, now you gotta tell me.”

“I was just thinking…I didn’t even get to kiss you goodbye.”

Frankie pauses. “You could kiss me hello instead,” he says carefully, reaching for your hand. You let him pull it from where it’s curled around the edge of the desk and he steps closer, his chest now brushing yours when he takes a deep inhale, the citrus and mint scent of you invading his senses.

“Yeah?” You whisper.

“Yeah.”

You lean across the scant few inches left between your bodies, pressing your lips to his. His eyes flutter shut, savoring the experience. It feels like a homecoming he didn’t know he missed out on.

He can feel you drawing back, but he doesn’t want this to end. His hands come up, framing your face in his. He almost feels bad about it, holding your precious face between hands that killed while you were off saving lives, but when you gasp and he gets the opportunity to dip his tongue between your lips, he’s forgetting all about his morbid thoughts.

Frankie wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you onto the desk and stepping between your spread legs. He drops his hands to your knees, sliding them up your thighs until his fingers tease the short hem of your dress.

“Frankie,” you whine as his lips descend on your neck, leaving soft kisses and teasing bites of his teeth on your soft skin. He can’t help but smile.

“What do you want, mi querida,” he murmurs. Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders and he can feel your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He thinks back to nights when he’d borrow the truck and a pile of blankets, taking you out to the middle of the fields to stare up at the stars, his head pillowed on your stomach as you played with his hair in much the same way.

“Just you, Frankie,” you whisper. “Please?”

________

At your plea, Frankie takes a step back, helping you down from the desk. His hands are immediately lifting your dress up and over your head, leaving you in the lingerie set you’d worn.

“Christ, Baby, you’re killin’ me,” he groans. He pulls you close, his lips trailing along the newly exposed skin of your chest, hot as a brand. He snaps the elastic of your panties against your hip, making you jump. “Thinkin’ you would get lucky tonight?”

You smirk at him. “Maybe. Claire did say Will had hot friends, after all.”

Frankie’s eyes go dark, the sweet brown of them swallowed by lust as he turns your body and guides you backwards until you hit the bed. He crawls up after you, lying on his belly as his broad shoulders force your legs apart.

He turns his head to kiss a trail up your thigh, stopping just shy of where you desperately want his mouth before he gives the same attention to your other leg. You squirm beneath him, already so worked up because this is Frankie. The boy who chased after rabbits with you on the farm when you were children, the one that made you a jewelry box in woodshop in tenth grade, the one who touched you with shaking hands and fevered lips when you were sixteen.

“Te extrañé mucho,” he says, placing a kiss right over your clit through your soaked panties, making you gasp. He sits up on his knees to give himself space to pull them down your thighs, balling them up and shoving them in the pocket of his pants. You raise an eyebrow at him and he smirks. “You won’t be needing those, don’t worry.”

Frankie resumes his position, flat on his stomach between your legs. He leans in close, his breath ghosting across your aching clit before he puts you out of your misery, his tongue dragging through your folds as he hums appreciatively.

“Fuck, Baby,” he groans before diving in, tongue swirling around your clit and dipping lower to lap at your entrance, his nose bumping your sensitive nub and driving you crazy, your hips already writhing beneath him. He places a heavy hand on your hip, holding you down and you can’t help the little moan that leaves you.

You reach down, tangling your fingers into his soft curls. He groans against your heat, tongue moving faster over your clit as he reaches up and slides a finger inside of you, your back arching in appreciation. He looks up at you as he works your body with expert precision, mouth and fingers working in tandem and bringing you to the edge with record speed. When he works a second finger inside of you, the stretch of them makes you moan.

“Want you to cum all over my fingers, sweetheart. Come on, I’ve been a starving man for fifteen years, you gotta give it to me,” he says, fingers curling on each withdrawal of his hand.

“Frankie,” you moan, hips pumping desperately, fingers pulling his hair so tightly you’re certain it hurts but all he does is moan, the sound of it music to your ears and enough to send you toppling over the edge.

He works you through it, fingers slowing as he lifts his mouth to smile at you, a lust drunk tilt of his glistening lips. His head tilts to your thigh and he nuzzles his nose against the sweat damp skin. It takes you a moment to realize he’s not removing his fingers. In fact, they start curling against you again, softly at first, then with more intent when you can’t hold back a moan.

“Can you give me another one? Please?” Frankie asks, his thumb now circling your clit. “Need it so bad, cariño.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “Frankie, please!”

“What do you need, Baby?”

“Your mouth, god, please,” you beg, nearly incoherent with your desire for him. “Need it so bad.”

The strokes of his tongue are leisurely, wide swipes that drive you wild, your fists curling into the sheets as your back arches from the mattress.

“Please fuck me, Frankie,” you plead.

“One more for me, Baby, and I promise I will,” he says, fingers moving faster and sucking your throbbing clit between his lips.

You come again, clenching around his fingers as you cry out a prayer of his name. He lifts his head, eyes laser focused on you as he works you through this second release.

“That’s right, Baby, such a good girl for me,” Frankie growls. He finally pulls away, standing at the side of the bed to hastily remove his clothes.

He removes his shirt first, revealing miles of tan skin that makes your mouth water. He’s gotten thicker since you last saw him, his formerly lean muscles now hard with strength. You can’t help but catalog the new scars he’s gained, like the slash across his ribs and a circular one on his abdomen.

Frankie’s eyes trap yours as his hands come to the fly of his pants, popping the button and dragging down the zipper. He shoves the fabric down his thighs along with his boxers, standing gloriously naked before you, his thick cock

“You keep looking at me like that, Baby, this is gonna be over before it even starts,” he jokes as he crawls back onto the bed and between your legs. He presses his hips between yours, his hard cock sliding through your wetness and making you gasp. He freezes. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

“I don’t care,” you murmur, dragging your nails down his back. “Please, I need you so fucking bad.”

Frankie’s head drops, fevered kisses pressed to your neck, words you can’t make out murmured against your skin as he reaches between your bodies and notches the head of his cock to your entrance, pressing in slowly as you gasp.

“Aquí es donde estaba destinado a estar,” he says. “You feel that, Baby? How you’re still made just for me?”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your heart bursting with that overwhelming feeling of home as you look up into Frankie’s gorgeous face. He leans closer, his chest against yours as he draws his hips back before thrusting sharply back into you. His cock fills you so completely, dragging against the spot in you that drives you wild, your sensitive walls already fluttering around him.

Those tears spill from your eyes, sticking to your lashes and slipping down your temples. Frankie leans down, kissing each side of your face where the salty tracks are, so gentle it makes them rush faster.

“Baby,” he murmurs. “Don’t cry. You know I could never stand it.”

That takes you back to when you were children, no older than eight, and a newborn calf had passed in the night. You cried into Frankie’s shirt until it was soaked.

Or when you were fourteen and didn’t make the cheer squad, fighting back tears on the bus home as Frankie held your hand in his, whispering about how they didn’t know what they would be missing.

Most of all, it takes you back to when he ripped a cavern between your souls. His parting words, the vitriol in them, and the way your heart felt shattered for years.

Frankie captures your lips with his, like he knows where your mind wandered. It feels like an apology and a promise in the same shared breath.

He pulls back, focusing his efforts on the movement of his hips against yours with deep, sharp thrusts that leave you gasping and babbling his name like the sweetest prayer and plea.

This orgasm is slow, syrupy, all encompassing as it washes over you. You shake beneath him with the power of it and he presses his body to yours as his hips stutter in their rhythm, chasing his release. He buries his head against your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he moans your name, pulsing inside of you.

Frankie collapses beside you, folding you in his arms as he whispers praise against your temple. You can feel his heart racing against the palm of your hand where it rests on his chest.

“It’s funny,” Frankie says.

“What is?” You ask.

“Mamá said I didn’t lose you, just had to find you again.” He grins at you. “Guess she was right, huh?”

You grin back. “Yeah. She always was.”

________

Six Months Later

Frankie checks his watch for the thousandth time, then checks the arrivals screen at the airport.

He removes his cap, running a hand through his hair nervously. You’ll be back in his arms any minute but it feels like it’s taking forever.

The baggage claim alarm sounds, the conveyor belt grinding into motion. A wave of people appears at the top of the stairs leading from the terminals to the baggage claim, crowding the escalators and stairs. Frankie’s eyes scan every face in search of you.

A blur of movement from his left is all the warning he gets before a body slams into him, nearly knocking him off balance and punching the air from his lungs.

“Fuck, I missed you,” you say against his chest, nuzzling your face against the fabric of his shirt.

Frankie chuckles, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I missed you, too, Mrs. Morales.”

The ring on your left hand catches the light, a purchase from the hotel jewelry store in the early morning hours of your weekend in Vegas. Giggly and full of excitement, fingers tangled together as he pulled you along the strip in search of a wedding chapel. It didn’t take long with one on every corner, a man in an Elvis costume having you repeat your vows after him as you grinned at each other.

Frankie will vividly remember it as the day the love of his life came back to him.

You pull back from him with a smirk. “It’s actually Dr. Morales.”

Frankie laughs, loud and carefree, ignoring the gazes that land on him.

“Come on, Dr. Morales. Let’s get you home.”

Translations:

Aquí es donde estaba destinado a estar - This is where I was meant to be

Te extrañé mucho - I missed you so much

Cariño - honey/darling

mi querida - my dear

Frankie Morales tag list: @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @cutesyscreennamee @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @str84pedro @brilliantopposite187 @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @afterglowsb-tch13 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreall @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @casa-boiardi @sexpoisoned @mswarriorbabe80 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @darlingpedro @pascals-cat @therealcap @Sadbloatedegg @dimitra300 @ievutebebe @gracieispunk @alec0 @vabeachazn

Want more Frankie? Check out the masterlist

#francisco morales #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales smut #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales fanfiction #proxima-writes tarot pull

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rays-of-fire-and-ice · 1 month ago

Text

The Path Taken

BLEACH Anime Celebration - Day 3

Day 3: Shikai / Fave Friendship / Black Hole Disco

Rating: General/K+ for mild themes

Setting: in the 18 months between the end of the Arrancar arcs and the beginning of the Lost Agent arc.

Synopsis: When Rangiku discovers her captain has been responsible for the spare uniforms going missing from the Tenth Division, she didn’t expect him to be behind it, let alone lead her to the cave where he’s training and been keeping a secret.

AN: all aboard the BROTP bus! I was planning to save this moment for my ongoing fic An Unwavering Light, but I saw my opportunity to write it for the BLEACH Anime Celebration. I will probably rewrite this scene when the time comes in that fic, but that’s then and this is now!

The friendship between Toshiro and Rangiku gives me a chance to write something a bit more light-hearted but still allowing me to have a few serious moments sprinkled here and there.

I hope you all enjoy it!

___________________________

It started when the spare uniforms went missing. It’d been only a small number, and Rangiku might have missed it if it weren’t for third seat’s, Mingawa’s, stock take of supplies. She normally didn’t look too seriously into such things – her captain seemed to enjoy doing that, she’d convinced herself – but with him focused on training, she has to step up while he’s away.

She and her third seat end up in front of the supply closets in the laundries. A few meters to her left through a doorway, several officers scrub uniforms and sheets in tubs and setting them in even larger washing baskets. Outside, several hang the washing on long lines that sway in the winter breeze. She can hear them chattering as they work, but she doesn’t pay attention to what they’re saying.

She slides the closet door open. There are stacks upon stacks of folded clothes, each shelf housing separate articles of the shihakusho. She counts the large sized men’s uniform pieces. It’s only slight, but there’s definitely something strange going on here.

As noted by Mingawa, they aren’t scheduled to receive new recruits for another three months, there haven’t been any missions that required officers to receive new uniforms, and no officers had reported to either of them about needing them. It doesn’t make any sense for this many uniforms to be missing in just two weeks.

“Are you looking for something, Lieutenant?”

She glances at the unseated officer -- Anzai, she remembers -- who had stopped on her way outside to deliver the washing basket she carries.

“No, nothing in particular,” she says, before sighing and rubbing the back her neck. “Minagawa recently did a stock take of our supplies. He mentioned that we were running low in the larger sizes of a complete shihakusho.”

The officer frowns. “Is that so?”

“Have you noticed anyone coming to grab any extra uniforms lately?”

Anzai shakes her head. “No, I haven’t.” She gestures to the officers behind her, still scrubbing. “Do you want me to ask Banno-san and Okuno-kun?”

Rangiku shakes her head. “No need, it’s not a big issue. If you do notice anything, though, please inform either Minagawa or I.”

“I will.” She bows. “I’ll return to my duties now.”

Rangiku can’t help but chuckle. “There’s no need to be so formal. Keep up the good work, it looks like you’re getting through a lot in there.”

“Ah, yes, we are! Thank you, Lieutenant!”

She and Minagawa left not long after. On their way back to the office, Minagawa speaks up. “I’ll inform the captain when he returns.”

“Save it for tomorrow morning,” Rangiku advises. “We shouldn’t put this on his mind after his training. It’s minor, but you know how he can be.”

Minagawa gives a huff of a chuckle and smirks. “Yeah, I know. All right.”

The next day, before either of them could tell Hitsugaya, four complete large uniforms were accounted for in the washing. Another two came in the next day, but another went missing the same day.

____________________________

Three days since the discovery of missing uniforms, Rangiku thought she would get ahead of who was causing this. The worst she had in mind for them was a reprimand about not honoring their uniform, to use their current uniform until it was torn beyond repair or became to big or small for them and needed replacing.

She had it all planned, right down to casually walking by the laundry area everyday at a different time from each day, then ust whoever she caught taking the uniforms. Within only a few hours after formulating and finalizing all of this, it all came crumbling down at the sight before her.

She’s frozen to the spot, jaw dropped and eyes wide. Hitsugaya stares back at her, standing in front of the spare uniforms cupboard, holding a large sized kosode. The scandalized look makes him appear younger, as if he were child caught trying to steal something he’s not allowed to have. It reminds her of how he was as a third seat and he lied about eating the last pork bun.

She’s torn between being amused and shocked.

“What are you doing?” she asks in a whisper, despite no else being around. In the back of mind she’s grateful this is the case, not sure how Anzai and the others would react to seeing their captain is behind the missing uniforms.

“I was…” He robotically pulls his hands back to sides, letting the kosode’s ends drop to the floor. “Minagawa mentioned…” He sighs roughly. “Fine, it was me.”

She blinks, then cocks her head to one side. Amusement is winning out with how out of character this situation is for him. “Wait, what?”

“I’ve been borrowing uniforms. I didn’t return the last few because I didn’t have time to.”

“And why have you been borrowing them in the first place?” Whatever teasing or mock patronizing comments she’d been ready to level at him are silenced when he shuts his eyes. Something’s troubling him. “Captain, what’s going on?”

Another sigh, this one of resignation. “You don’t have to attend a lieutenant’s meeting until ten o'clock, right?”

She nods.

He raises the kosode. “Then it’s better if I show you.”

_________________________________

He leads her outside of the Seireitei into the forests of Rukongai, with Hyourinmaru strapped to his back and a complete large sized uniform folded up over his arm.

They’ve barely spoken a word since leaving the barracks, but she can sense the apprehension rolling off him. He can be quiet and not tell her what he’s thinking, but never because he felt he couldn’t or to keep it a secret from her. To see him acting like this is strange for her; it reminds her she doesn’t always know everything about him despite overseeing his training and working alongside him for the last few decades.

When the cave comes into their line of sight, she raises a brow. “Isn’t this where you’ve been training?”

“As I said, you’ll understand once you’ve seen it.”

She lets out a huff. “It has something to do with your training, then?”

He says nothing, continuing towards the cave. She remembers his troubled look, and can only cross her arms to quell her impatience.

Once they enter, her footsteps echo around her and she expects the warm, thick air to weigh down on her. She frowns at how cold it is, and finds herself rubbing her arms. Perhaps it’s due to his training; he has been coming here for months now, after all, there's a chance it's having a some kind of cumulative effect on the cave.

They're coming to the entrance of a wide chamber when he stops and turns to her. “Wait here. I’ll tell you when you can come in.”

She can only nod and watches him disappear around the corner. While waiting she, looks behind her to the entrance, a small archway of sunlight in the distance. She doesn't remember him going this far in before.

She grunts when she hears an echo of Hyourinmaru’s bankai release chant, and a brush of cold sweeps out into the cave’s corridor. She prepares for him to tell her to enter, but he doesn’t. More cold rushes out of the chamber as he trains, and she ends up sitting on the ground, letting out a huff that blows her bangs out of her face. She takes out her denreishinki to check and reply to her messages, but a signal is non-existent. She never thought that day would come where she wishes she’d brought the division’s paperwork to complete.

Several minutes later, she finally hears him say, “All right, you can come in now.”

She rushes to a stand, but feels an odd trepidation as she enters the chamber. Before even looking around, she stops when her foot grazes his folded-up uniform. She looks to the cave’s walls, which are are scored from his zanpaukto’s attacks and streaks of ice, and then at rubble rests in piles in random spots. At the center is her captain, encased in his bankai but now dressed in the larger uniform.

She claps a hand over her mouth to stop her laughter from exploding out of her, but the snorts escape. He looks ridiculous with how loosely the shihakusho hangs off of him. “S-Sir, why are you --?!”

“Just stay over there!” he yells back, indignant. “It’ll make sense in a second.”

Still Rangiku can’t control herself, having to lean back again the cave wall and keep her hand over her mouth. She tries to focus on something else in the area, and all humor rushes out of her when she sees there’s only one petal hanging above Hitsugaya’s head. “You’ve run out of petals!”

“I know, just wait.”

“But, once it breaks, you’ll –”

Crack.

A hairline fracture splits down the middle of the petal. A flush of panic spreads through Rangiku. She’s seen what happens. She’ll need to call Fourth Division, even searches her sleeve without looking away for her denreishikai and planning to make a run for it out of the cave to get a signal.

He raises his free hand, beseeching. “Trust me.”

The last petals breaks into piece. Before she can call out to him, mist explodes into the chamber and a wave of biting cold hits her, forcing a gasp out of her and to throw her arms up in front of her face. She can barely remain standing, her legs nearly being forced to kneel. She bows her head and grits her teeth, waiting for the force to down. It’s not until several heartbeat later that it does, and she opens her eyes. While taking a few staggered breaths, her eyes widen at the ice edged at her foot.

She lowers her arms and finally looks up. The mist swirls around the cave, wafting along the ice-covered ground before dissipating. Several stalactites hang threateningly from the ceiling, while the stalagmites block her view of her captain. She gingerly steps out on to the ice, half expecting to slip and fall.

“Captain? What happened? Where --?”

“I’m right here.”

Her eyes widen. The voice gives her pause. It’s familiar, but a few octaves deeper. Why is her captain speaking like that?

She continues on the ice, finding that it's thinner than she realized, cracking beneath steps. She rounds a stalagmite and comes to a stop. For a second, the world stills. A man stands where Hitsugaya once stood. His shoulders, legs and arms are encased in ice shape like amour. He has the same hair and his eyes, though more narrow, have the same steeliness and color.

No, it can’t…it can’t be! “Captain?!”

He winces at her exclamation. “Yes, it’s me.”

Her eye twitches and throws her hands out in accusation. “But…how?! What?! When?! How did you...How is this possible?!"

"This is Hyourinmaru's Completed Form." He raises his zanpakuto, twisting the hilt to he horizontal. "I can't access all of Hyourinmaru's powers and abilities in the bankai I've been wielding up until now. Eventually, I discovered the only way I could was to age up." He half turns from her. "That's the short version of it. I don’t have time to explain it in detail.”

“What do you mean?!”

“I can’t stay like this for long. I’ll show you it’s abilities while I can.”

“Captain…”

The shock wears off, and in its place, Rangiku lets out a bewildered laugh that bounces off the cave walls and stops Hitsugaya dead in his tracks. “Your bankai gave you the ability to grow up?! I should have brought my camera! No one will believe when I tell them about this!”

“That's not the point!” he snaps. "You’re not to say a word about this to anyone!"

It’s not enough to diffuse her exhilaration. “But, sir, look at you! The Women’s Association would make a killing off of photos prints!”

“Enough, Matsumoto! This is serious.” He lets a long-suffering sigh. “Stay there and watch, I don’t want you to get caught up in this.”

As he speaks, she notices the slight tremor running through him, as if he were struggling to hold something up. Himself? She can feel the immense reiatsu radiating off of him, filling every gap of this cave. She didn't realize it until he reign it in, and the freezing cold warms several degrees.

Hitsugaya nods his head to ground at her left. “Throw that over to the other side.”

Too bewildered to question it, she does as he says, picking up a rock the size of her hand and throwing it high. She watches it twirling through the air and narrowly miss a stalactite. Then, in a blink of an eye, it’s frozen in place by a line of ice. With a grunt she looks to Hitsugaya, his zanpakuto remains at his side, but his free hand is extended out, aimed at the rock.

He briefly glances over his shoulder at her, perhaps gauging her reaction. She can only offer widened eyes and chattering teeth, unable to speak a word.

Turning his attention to farthest wall of the chamber, he raises Hyourinmaru, slashing his zanpakuto in the air and sending a massive flurry of ice towards a cave wall. She’s never seen him conjured up this much in his strikes, or even from most of his other abilities.

He keeps going, showing new attacks she’s never seen, all more powerful than anything she’s witnessed him do before. Maybe the shock hadn’t worn off -- that the excitement she’d felt before had been a symptom of it -- but now it has, and her awe is tempered by fear. Not of him, but of this power.

She’s known him for decades, was there at the start of his life as a Shinigami. She’d encouraged him to set out on this path, to learn about the powers residing in him. To think ti could lead to this...

Without warning,she remembers that night, that child helplessly looking over at the Granny he was unknowingly harming. She’d felt the power radiating off him in uncontrolled waves when she’d bumped into him at the stall earlier that day. She would never seek out a Soul the way she had, but she knew that power needed to be contained, that he could -- maybe already had -- hurt others without realizing. He hadn’t been hard to find, the cold waves flowing from his home all the way to the second street of the Junrinan.

She’d wanted him to find a way to control that power, so others wouldn’t be harmed, but she also knew that feel of having something deep within, unable to voice exactly what it was but knowing it lay there, waiting for you to discover it. That feeling could be all consuming if not explored, a gnawing that ate away at a Soul like an opportunity not taken, a path one was afraid to tread. In his own way, Gin had taught her that when he’d told her why she was experiencing hunger.

At some point he stops and turns to her. She has to look away from the ice that coats every wall of the cave except the one she has her back to. He stares at her, waiting. For her assessment? Her judgement? To see if she was afraid of him? Something in the softens. He's come a long way, but deep down, he's still that boy from the Junrinan, isolated and not knowing why others were scared of him.

She's speechless, but after a drawn out breaths, she finally says, "How did you discover this?"

He blinks, and the slightest smirk twitches at the corner of his lips. "Training, Matsumoto. How else?"

She shakes her head. "No, I mean, what led you to...?" It dawns on her what she really wants to ask. "Why did you discover this?"

The question sobers him. His shoulders fall a fraction when he lets out a long, silent exhale. Something changes in his eyes. There's the usual steeliness, but there's also something somber. “Because I needed to.”

It makes her sigh. They been over this before, several times, but it seems it's never enough to quell his guilt. "It wasn't your fault, Captain. You couldn't have known."

"That's not it." A half-truth, she can tell, but she doesn't call him out on it.

He's steadfast, gripping Hyourinmaru tighter and slowly stepping towards her, his encased feet crunching over the ice. “We’ve faced threats that can destroy our world or any of the others. Who’s to say there won’t be others in the future? The Soul Society needs to be prepared, both in it's infrastructure and it's soldiers.” He stops a meter away from her. "If a captain isn't prepared, then how can those he commands be?"

She wants to say something encouraging, but nothing comes. She overcome by something she never thought she'd feel in a moment like this.

He must see the guilt building up within her, because he frowns and takes another tentative step to her. "Matsumoto?"

She shakes her head. "I won't tell anyone about this," she says. "What you've achieved, Captain...it's incredible. There's no other word for it. You should be proud of what you've accomplished."

Her words are sincere -- if stilted by the conflict of emotions running through her -- but his furrowed brow only eases a fraction. He raises Hyourinmaru, staring down at the hilt. "It's not what I expected when I started training. I never thought --"

He hisses. When he stumbles back while clutching his side, Rangiku lunges off the wall. "Captain?"

"Stand back!" he orders with a wince. "I have to...have to --"

Without warning, a fresh wave mist and cold blasts into the cave. Rangiku falls back against the cave wall, once again protecting her face from the force. Like last time, it dies down, but she can hear the gasping breaths of her captain. She rushes through the mist, almost slipping on ice to get to him. "Sir!"

She comes to an abrupt stop, nearly crashing into him. He's doubled over, panting and clutching Hyrouinmaru. He raises his head after a beat. He's back to normal. It's a stark contrast to the man he'd been, enough to stun her for a moment.

"Are you all right?" she asks, ready to ease him up.

He gives a curt nod before righting himself with a grunt. "I'll be fine. Changing back...can be painful." Before she can ask, he raises a hand. "Don't call Fourth Division, I don't need them."

She's not so sure, judging from the way he stiffly sheathes Hyourinmaru across his back and half hobbles over to his folded up uniform. She gets there ahead of him, picking it up and handing it to him.

"Thanks," is all he offers before she takes her queue to leave and let him get changed. She walks to the cave's entrance, but comes to a stop once she's back in the sunlight. She recalls the moments before they arrived. To think this is what he's been keeping from everyone.

He'd achieved something she's never witnessed in her life. Perhaps it's something no one in the entire Soul Society has ever witnessed or thought even possible. He could gain abilities that shouldn't be available to him, that have enough force to literally freeze a threat in it's tracks to the bone.

She should be honored to have been a force behind this, to have been the one to guide him on the path to honing and controlling his powers. The Soul Society has always viewed him as a valuable asset on the battlefield and in leadership, but now he could turn the tides in a war, may even be the only Shinigami they will need to send to neutralize a threat as powerful as an Espada.

It's an incredible feat, but a sad one. Her captain hasn’t been a child for decades, but by Rukongai standards he’s still too young for this line of work. A prodigy, but still young.

For the first time, she wonders if she’d done the right thing by telling him to seek out a way to control his power. Of course she had, she protected others from being harmed and he's proven himself to be one of the greatest recruits the Academy turned out. But was it right to have let him get to this point? To the point where he felt he wasn't enough, that he needed to transform himself so completely. She had no direct hand in those things, but they'd happened, and might not have if she hadn't guided him that day. What if she'd approached him a bit later in life? His Granny would still be freezing, perhaps even pass away from it, and he'd never know he might have been the cause. She saved the woman's life, and him from heartache -- from that one at least.

She hears his footsteps coming up behind her, echoing through the cave. She turns, unsure what face to make. She keeps her expression neutral, and he does the same. The larger uniform is folded back over his arm.

He stops directly at her side, gaze not faltering. The only sounds in the silence are the rustle of leaves when a breeze blows through, tussling his hair and sweeping hers over her shoulders.

"Captain?" she asks eventually.

He turns his attention to the ground. "Now that you know about Hyrouinmaru's Completed Form, it might prove to be useful."

She blinks. "How so?"

"For one, you'll know what to expect in battle should I ever have to use it. Given the toll it can take on me physically, it's a last resort. I also don't know every ability this form can afford me yet. I have to build my endurance so it can last longer before I need to transform back."

He lifts his head, looking ahead to the path they'd trekked to get here. "If I have a sparring partner, it might help me to unlock other abilities. It would help you to understand how these abilities work too, how we can incorporate Haineko's shikai into it."

She can't help but let out a huff. "My powers are nothing compared to that form." She ignores the indignant growl from Haineko in the back of her mind.

"It's not true," Hitsugaya says. "At the Academy, regardless of skill level, we're encouraged to integrated powers together."

She shrugs. "I suppose."

Another pause, and she can sense him considering his words. This is what he's truly been wanting to say since he left the cave.

"They also taught us to protect Humans and our friends," he eventually says. "Soon, I'll be able to do that once I've perfected my bankai."

Guilt comes back to the forefront, causing her to look away and cross her arms.

"I never thought my training would lead to me to this," he continues. "I'm glad it has. I can protect those who can't protect themselves. I can control my abilities so they don't harm others."

He returns his gaze to her. "I apologize again for the uniforms."

She waves a dismissive hand.

"I also appreciate that you came out here, and..."

She can't help but quietly gasp. Does he know? Had it been that obvious? Did he just thank her? She says nothing, afraid of interrupting him or discouraging him from continuing. Ever since Aizen's defeat, he's been more open with his emotions, but he's still prone to being stoic or reserved as his default.

She locks her gaze with his, deciding to risk it in the end. "Sir, I know you couldn't give me a full explanation for how you acquired the Completed Form, but if I'm going to be training with you, I'll need to know."

He raises a brow, as if what she said was a given -- and knowing him it was.

She steps closer to him. She nods to Hyourinmaru's hilt. "That includes Hyourinmaru's Completed Form. It will take a lot of training, and...I can't imagine what it felt like to discover it."

His eyes flash and then quiver in a way that says it all: it was near life-changing, the answer he's been seeking this whole time.

"Please remember, sir," she continues. "It's not only you who has to do protect others. It's all of our duty as Shinigami to protect and serve the Soul Society and those that will one day come to it." Then, a little more light-hearted. "Besides, it's my duty as a lieutenant to support the Tenth Division and to have your back, always."

He's stunned at first. Then, the faintest smirk shapes his lips and he gives a conceding nod. "With the exception of the last part, you've spoken like an Academy lecturer."

She expects him to end this conversation there, to snort and say something to the effect of, "Now, we need to head back."

Instead, he nods again and begins down the trail. "I already know I can count on you. We've worked this long together. Even before all of this...I chose this path after you showed it to me." Then, so quiet she isn't even sure he says it, "...Thank you."

She can't move for several heartbeats. She gets the impression it's not what he truly wants to say, another half-truth. Perhaps, more accurately, a part of a sentence that's incomplete. Still, the guilt dissipates.

It's enough for now, and she allows the warmth of pride swell through her heart without any shame. Is this how it feels to be proud of a younger sibling? It must be.

She's quick to catch up to him, grinning despite overly sad sigh she lets out. "Well, if nothing else, that form has given me a glimpse into future, and Captain, you're going be a heart-breaker."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he grouses.

"Oh, nothing." Then, quickly to herself. "As is, I'm certain you only have eyes for one person, and by the time you tell her, you'll probably be the same age as that form."

"Oi, speak up!"

"I didn't say anything!" She's the perfect picture of innocence with her shrug, but he only rolls his eyes.

"About that training," she continues, "I'll help you."

He nods. "Good. We can start tomorrow."

"Oh, sorry, no can do, sir. The Women's Association is going to a hot spring tomorrow."

"I didn't sign off on you doing that!"

"You didn't need to! I'm a grown woman, you know?" She snickers. "Although now you can become a grown man anytime you want now, huh?"

"Oh, shut up!" he growls. He folds his arms, and grumbles, "This is what I get for showing you."

She laughs, high and loud. "I feel so privileged to be the only one to know!"

"...With how loud you are, someone else might know about it now."

"Oh no, Captain, don't worry." She puts a finger to her lips and winks at him. Then, in a loud whisper, "You're secret's safe with me."

He only snorts derisively.

"Although..." She taps a her finger to her chin. "Those missing uniforms DID get noticed."

She doesn't have to look over to know his temp and eye twitch.

"I have a few ideas. You're either going to have to return them as soon as your training is done each day, or you use the same uniform and put it in for cleaning on a day you don't do training." And because she can't help, because she'd planned to do it to whoever she caught, "I would suggest the latter, because, if I remember right, didn't you once say to the new recruits that one must honor their uniform because of what it represents? That one could do that by making sure it's clean and repaired when torn and only get one, one, replacement when it's beyond repair or doesn't fit anymore, right?"

"...You're enjoying this way too much."

She smirks. "I don't know what you mean."

She shakes his head. "You've actually put some thought into hiding this, huh?"

"Hey, I can come up with good ideas!"

"I didn't even say they were good ones."

"Do you want me to help you keep a secret or not?"

"All right, all right!" He rubs the side of neck. "Discovering the Completed came as a shock, I wasn't thinking straight and didn't come up with a plan."

The fact he even admits that makes her do a double take. Yes, he's more open with how he's feeling, but to admit that he, the one Soul she knows who can't even go visit his Granny on his breaks without a schedule in place before he leaves, didn't have a plan.

"Well, as your lieutenant, may I suggest the last option?"

"Why that one?"

"Because you need to take breaks from training. You've come such a long way since you've started, and I meant what I said before, that you should be proud of what you've achieved, but it's okay to focus on other things." She's almost tempted to reach out and touch his shoulder as a reassurance, but resists. "You said before you did this so you could become strong enough to protect others from a threat like what we faced months ago. You've done that, and while there's still more you can learn about this Completed Form, isn't it enough for now?"

The furrow in his brow deepens as he considers her words. It's a long moment later when he raises his head.

"Fine, we'll do the last one." He hefts up the folded uniform. "But I'll clean it myself."

Responsible to a fault, but at least he's chosen it.

She smiles. "Good."

#bleach returns 2024 #toshiro hitsugaya #rangiku matsumoto #brotp: I've got your back #hitsuhina #if you squint #bleach #fanfiction #is it a little corny and out of character at the end?#yes #I will likely rewrite this scene (the ending particularly) for An Unwavering Light #but I feel like it needed to end with Rangiku knowing Toshiro chose this life #she gave him the option (perhaps the only right now) but it was ultimately he who chose to take it

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i-only-ever-asked-questions · 1 year ago

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I've been working on this post for a while and I am running out of time! So here goes: Today I want to talk about the dark side of Good Omens. This is a long post, sorry about that, but there are so many twists and turns. We all love GO, the romance, the banter, the comedy, the humanity of it. But it does a have a subtle dark side underneath which is usually overlooked. It has to do with the race to stop Armageddon, how their different views brought them to the bandstand conflict, and how Aziraphale ultimately came around at the airbase. It was a rocky road. In the book, when Crowley receives the basket and is on his way to the hospital, he has a thought. We didn't see this in the show so it may or may not have happened there, but it happened in the book. Ultimately Crowley didn't go through with it, but it did occur to him.

So Crowley kept driving and eventually came up with Plan A: Raise the antichrist together behind Hell's back. Surely as a normal, balanced human being the kid wouldn't want to destroy the world, easy and straightforward, right?

Aziraphale's orders are to keep Crowley under observation and so he does. But he also tells Heaven he will "influence the child towards the light". Heaven humors him as long as he keeps doing his job: monitoring Crowley and the antichrist.

However as the scheduled time gets closer, Crowley realizes that the only way to be 100% certain there won't be an Armageddon is to not have an antichrist at all (like 11 years ago). And he brings up Plan B: Kill the child, for the first time.

Aziraphale didn't like the idea of killing Warlock outright if there were other options. So he came up with Plan C: stop the dog. That... was very short-lived.

And here is where things will start to get murky. While both know they need to find the antichrist, they don't really know what to do afterwards.

Crowley probably thinks that whatever they do, they'll do it together, that Aziraphale will be on board with it. Aziraphale on the other hand still thinks Heaven are "the good guys" so he separately comes up with Plan D: Tell Heaven where the antichrist is. If Heaven gets rid of Adam, all will be fine. Heaven knows better and thy are going to win anyway. At this point, Aziraphale is fine with eliminating the antichrist, he just doesn't like the idea of doing the deed himself, let Heaven handle it. So he lies to Crowley about finding Adam.

And he lies again about having found the antichrist when they meet at the bandstand. Aziraphale has made his mind. As they talk, Aziraphale's reasons that if Crowley were to kill the child instead of Heaven, it would be a better solution for everybody. Again, he is fine with eliminating the antichrist, but not with doing it himself, Crowley can do it. Should this be a very short lived Plan E?

Crowley on the other hand, just like at the Crystal Palace, insists that Aziraphale do the deed. Aziraphale would not have it. Either Crowley does it or Heaven does it, but not him.

The book is more clear about how Crowley is afraid of Hell's punishment if he fails. In Crowley's mind, if Aziraphale kills the child it would be ok, Aziraphale gets brownie points in Heaven and Crowley gets punished for maybe only being incompetent.

But if Crowley kills the child, he would be in really BIG trouble, punished as the worst traitor there could be. (this quote comes from a later passage but it is the sentiment that counts)

Both agree that the antichrist needs to go. But Crowley won't kill the child and Aziraphale won't kill the child either. So they come to an impasse.

Aziraphale proceeds with his Plan D anyway and his conversation with the Metatron goes as pear-shaped as could. And this is where he decides to talk to Crowley and reconcile. That didn't work out either.

After a short trip to Heaven, Aziraphale finds himself on Earth and ready to follow Crowley's Plan B. However he still doesn't want to do it himself, so this time he is recruiting humans to do it (Plan F!). Humans are good at killing other humans, they have been doing it for a long time ;)

Said humans are on board with it until they realize that the antichrist is an 11-year old boy and Plan F goes up in smoke.

Crowley is not giving up though and Aziraphale, fully committed now that every other option failed, follows Crowley's lead. Third time is the charm, right? Aziraphale doesn't hesitate anymore and shoots when Crowley urges him to do so.

And, as we know Madame Tracy saves the day and Adam (although for all we know Adam is bulletproof at this point ;) ) So yeah, interwoven with all the fun there are these glimpses of hidden darkness, our demon who keeps pushing Aziraphale to kill the antichrist for lack of a better plan and our angel who doesn't want to taint his hands and keeps looking for other people to do the deed instead. There is certainly a lot more nuance to this, Crowley and Aziraphale are not selfish, detached entities who end human lives willy-nilly, not at all. But in a desperate hour, they will, if that means the survival of the whole world. As Crowley put it back at the Crystal Palace "one life against the universe". He was ready to sacrifice that life from the very beginning. Aziraphale meandered his way to get there, but at the end he got there and shot at the child.

It is certainly very fortunate that they were not very competent at this. It would have been awful killing Warlock and then realizing he wasn't the antichrist after all. And Adam is a nice and smart kid who found his very own human solution to the problem without intentionally shedding any blood. They both deserve to live, and our walking disasters deserve to get their world and their humans without having to pay for it with the life of a child.

#good omens #stop the apocalypse #crowley #aziraphale #heaven are not the good guys #kill the antichrist #adam does not deserve to be killed #neither does warlock

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sitp-recs · 10 months ago

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Anime Recs Pt 2

Any BL fan knows that sports anime is all about the homoerotic tension between the MC, his team players and his rivals 🤌🏼 trust this genre to serve in both aesthetics and feels - which means it deserves its own list! I tried to include a little bit of everything from hidden gems like Ryman’s Club to big hits like Haikyu. Most of these have 🌈 vibes if you squint (sometimes not that hard) with YoI being more intentional about it. And for those who love found family like me, you can’t go wrong with 1, 2 or 6. I hope everyone can get something for their tastes and find catharsis as they cheer for these pretty boys. This is the second part of my anime rec series, you can find the first list here. Enjoy!

1. Backflip!! 🤸🏻‍♂️

Summary: Shotaro Futaba loved sports, but was never good enough. But watching a group of gymnasts in the park and seeing them in a gymnastics tournament, he decides to join their school and become part of the gymnastic team. With new members, Shotaro and Ryoya Misato, the team aims for the upcoming Inter-High tournament.

2. Big Windup! ⚾️

Summary: The story follows the story of Ren Mihashi, a pitcher who was blamed by his middle school team for their string of losses, and as a result suffers from low self-esteem and transfers to a different high school. There, the school's first baseball team is being formed and Mihashi reluctantly joins as their Ace Pitcher.

3. Free! 🏊‍♂️

Summary: Free is set in the town of Iwatobi, Japan, which is based on Iwami, Tottori. The story is centered on high school student Haruka Nanase, a gifted swimmer. After encountering his childhood rival, Rin Matsuoka from Samezuka Academy, he and his friends revitalize Iwatobi High School's swim team.

4. Haikyu!! 🏐

Summary: Junior high school student, Shoyo Hinata, becomes obsessed with volleyball after catching a glimpse of Karasuno High School playing in the Nationals on TV. Of short stature himself, Hinata is inspired by a player the commentators nickname 'The Little Giant', Karasuno's short but talented wing spiker.

5. Kuroko no Basket 🏀

Summary: The story follows Kuroko's journey to success with his team, with most of the episodes being based around one or part of one challenging game, in which Kuroko and his teammates, most notably Taiga Kagami, perform plays and have short conversations with opposing players in the heat of the match.

6. Run with the Wind 🏃‍♂️

Summary: After abandoning competitive running back in high school, Kakeru Kurahara has no desire to return to the sport during his college years. But when an impromptu shoplifting-related sprint brings his talent to the attention of Haiji Kiyose, he soon finds himself wrapped up in an adventure he never imagined.

7. Salaryman’s Club 🏸

Summary: The story follows Mikoto Shiratori, a recently unemployed badminton prodigy who has the ability of foresight. After getting fired from Mitsuhoshi Banking for losing a match for their company sports badminton team, he gets recruited by Sunlight Beverage to play for their team and become a sales rep.

8. SK8 the Infinity 🛹

Summary: In Okinawa, a group of hardcore skaters participate in a secret, no-holds-barred competition after midnight known as "S", racing each other on skateboards down a winding road carved out of an abandoned mine. Reki, a high school sophomore and hardcore skater, takes new transfer student Langa to S one night, and ends up pulling him into the world of skateboarding.

9. Tsurune 🏹

Summary: Minato joins the Kazemai High School Archery Club and along with his old friends and new teammates, Nanao Kisaragi and Kaito Onogi, they aim for winning the prefectural tournament while trying to overcome their doubts and shortcomings.

10. Yuri!!! On ICE ⛸️

Summary: Japanese figure skater Yuri Katsuki faces a crushing defeat during the Grand Prix finals and heads home, unsure of whether or not he wishes to continue his skating career. After a video of Yuri mimicking Russian figure skater Victor Nikiforov's routine goes viral, Victor decided to become Yuri's coach, much to the dismay of his coach, his fans, and his fellow Russian skater Yuri Plisetsky.

#anime recs #reclist part 2 #Sitp faves

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moscnios · 2 years ago

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Hello! Would it be okay to request for Buggy the Clown? I was thinking of Buggy x Mime! Reader whose ability is to create invisible force fields? When she panics, her ability is triggered automatically, so she has accidentally used it on Buggy more than once because she feels awfully shy around him. So... I was thinking about reader talking to him for the first time to apologize and confess that when he is around she panics? Also, perhaps Buggy telling her that she should speak more because her voice is cute to him. Thank youuu 😊

✸ now playing … APOLOGY BASKET。

✸ pairing! … mime!gn!reader x buggy the clown.

✸ type of love! … romantic.

✸ cw(s)! … mentions of injuries. no pronouns used. reader wears mime-styled makeup. very nervous reader. not proofread.

✸ wc! … 0.8k.

✸ notes! … more of me writing in 2nd pov or at least attempting. i did not know how to end this🧎🧎 but thank you for this really cute request !! thank you so much for requesting !! <333

Standing at the door of the captain’s quarters was daunting. The mahogany door with the clown’s face carved into the center, staring you in the face reminding you of what you had done and why were stood out here in the first place.

Out of your usual attire and over-the-top makeup, you had settled for a simple t-shirt and a pair of slacks. Your sweaty palms were gripped onto a straw basket filled with different goodies, ones you had hoped your captain would appreciate, ones that would make him forgive you for your fourth blunder of this week at the expense of his nose.

It wouldn’t have been the first time you accidentally wacked Buggy in the face with your ability. Though you had hoped it would be the last. You didn’t know how many more times until he threw you overboard.

Usually, you could control your powers and make great use of them. You were a great ally in battle and would make a beautiful asset to the team. That is why Buggy recruited you to join the Buggy Pirates. You were flattered that he sought you out to recruit you personally. You couldn’t let him down.

Though that is what it seemed like you had been doing. Blunder after blunder all ending in injuries for your captain. The most recent error happened on the deck of the Big Top.

It was high noon, a rather slow day with nothing much to do than look out on the open sea and see if you could find anything other than the blue salt waters. Of course, you had found a much more interesting sight on board, your captain.

Anyone with eyes could see that you had the hots for Buggy. It became even more apparent as he was the only victim of your accidental force fields to the face when he got a little too close.

He walked over to you, standing next to you with his arms folded over his chest, grumbling about how lazy everyone was. Not you though, you could do no wrong. You were one of the few he never had any complaints about, well other than your force field mishaps.

He glanced over at you, looking at your makeup. You decided to try a new style with your look today. You hadn’t even expected him to really notice.

“Your makeup looks really nice. It brings out your eyes,” He complimented you without much thought. Even though you sort of short-circuited and unleashed a force field right to the nose.

Now here you stood at his door with an apology basket, hoping to make it up to him for hopefully the last time.

You raised your hand, lightly knocking on the wooden door. You had hoped he was asleep or couldn’t hear you so you could just return to your own chambers. But you could hear movement from inside of the room, footsteps coming toward the door, giving you little time to even prepare what you were going to say.

The door opened slowly, Buggy’s head peeled out of the opening, giving you a glimpse of him with his hair down. His nose was still wrapped in bandages. Believing it was one of the others, he answered the door with a scowl. Upon seeing your face his scowl was surprised by a surprised look.

He had never seen you outside of your mime getup. He hardly recognized you, “( y/n )?”

You held out the basket, “I’m sorry, Captain!” He fully opened the door, taking the box into his hands, slightly confused. You continued, “I…uh…I wish to apologize for my force fields colliding with your face. You see…when I panic and don’t know what to do with myself, they sort of…form. And around you, I get nervous so they…just form. I don’t mean to hurt you! Honest! I umm…”

“You didn’t have to do get me anything, you know. You’re one of the best members of this crew. Even if you gave me a black eye, I’d still keep you around,” He joked, “Though please don’t give me a black eye.”

“I swear not to, Captain!” You playfully saluted to him.

Buggy shook his head, “It’s late. Hurry off to bed, that’s an order.”

You turned on your heel and started to walk down the hall. However, you stopped upon hearing him repeat your name.

“And ( y/n )?”

You turned over your shoulder, “Yes, captain?”

“You should talk more, your voice is cute and pleasant to listen to. Have a good night, ( y/n ).” He smiled.

“Y-You too, Captain.”

With that, he returned to his quarters, closing the door behind him. Leaving you in the hallway, hands clasped over your mouth to keep the sounds of pure glee from leaving your mouth, so he couldn’t hear. You had to save that for the comforts of your own chambers.

#does switching povs make my writing feel different ??#i feel like it does #one piece #buggy the clown #buggy #buggy x reader #buggy one piece #buggy one piece x reader #buggy oneshots #buggy scenarios #buggy imagines #buggy headcanons #one piece x reader #one piece oneshots #one piece scenarios #one piece imagines #one piece headcanons #night rather than day ── 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘰. 𓂃 ★☆

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kikiswriting7 · 5 months ago

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Take a Chance ✵ JJK ✵ MYG - 2

✵ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook

✵Summary: Y/N just move across the world to start her University. She is paired with a roommate who is complete social butterfly and makes a bet, Y/N needs to take more chances. And at the hint of her new found friend, her social and romantic life take a dramatic turn.

✵Tags/Warnings: Smut, College AU, red flag, sexual tension. angst, dirty talking, drinking, friends with benefits, full of cliches, friends to lover, temptation

✵Notes: Hi Guys this is chapter 2! Smaller chapter this one but just felt like the right place to end it. Hopefully I can put out something else again soon! Thank you to whoever took their time to read it! Let me know what you guys think so far! Its very motivating and it might help figure out where to take some things hahah anyway....

lots of love, Kiki

CHAPTER 2 - STARLIGHT

Friday flew by like it was on fast-forward. Between binge-watching some new show on Streaming and sneaking in daytime naps, the day just slipped away before I knew it. It was a decent distraction from thinking about Jungkook and the upcoming get-together tomorrow. I can't say I was nervous, but I definitely wasn't thrilled either. I just don’t want to miss out on any potential friendships, specially as we are all just starting university. Plus, it was kind of a relief that Yoongi hadn't reached out again. But in the long run, I’m not sure if that was a blessing or a curse. We hadn't really talked much, but his presence in my mind was getting as big as Jungkook's, despite our limited interactions.

Even though I was nursing a hangover, I'm definitely more of a night owl. So, when I finally heard Gabi retreat to her room late into the evening, I took it as my cue to escape the confines of my dark cave, in search of something to eat. As I reached the kitchen in the dim light, the glow from the fridge was the only thing illuminating the room.

But, of course, there was nothing to eat. I had planned to do my weekly shopping this afternoon, but my not-so-healthy hangover coping mechanisms got in the way. My options are either starve until morning or make a quick run to the late-night shop that was a couple of blocks from the aparmtent. I guess my stomach made the decision for me. With hunger gnawing at my insides, I grabbed a jacket and shoes to tame the gremlin monster within.

February nights were always chilly, and tonight was no exception. As I made my way quickly to the night shop, I could see my breath forming puffs of vapor in the cold air. The neon sign declaring "OPEN!" in bright letters was a welcome sight in the darkness, the only sign of life at this hour. Inside, I quickly gathered what I deem essentials: ramen, cheese, chocolate, and a few candies. Balancing everything in my arms, I cursed myself for not grabbing a basket on my way in.

The last item on my list was chilling behind the glass door of the fridge. Great, how the hell am I going to reach that? Just as I pondered my options, and thinking how I should be recruited for the circus with my balancing skills, someone stepped in front of me. Perfect timing! "Hey, excuse me, could you grab the one on the top row for me?" I asked, only for my voice to falter when I realized it was Yoongi.

Oh God.

Obviously, he had to catch me in raccoon mode, scavenging for snacks at night. Just perfect. But to my surprise, he smiled softly, effortlessly grabbing the soda for me. He breezed past me like I was a wisp of smoke and headed to the cashier. It took me a moment to shake off my dumbfoundedness and follow him to the register.

Yoongi had already bought cigarettes from the cashier and was on his way out without saying much. I hastily dumped my items on the counter, tapping my foot impatiently as the old man processed my purchase, as if it would make him do it any faster. Why did Yoongi leave without saying anything? Was him walking me home just a courtesy? Does he think I’m annoying? Than why did he text me? Or bring me hangover medicine?

Once the transaction was done, I practically threw my card at the machine and rushed outside. The cold air hit me like a slap in the face, but it was the smell of cigarettes that brought me back to reality. Yoongi was leaning against the wall, seemingly unfazed by the cold. "Took you long enough. I almost finished my cigarette," he remarked, taking one last drag.

"Just making sure my raccoon tendencies were satisfied," I replied, cringing internally at my own words. Yeah, maybe I should join the circus, but as a clown instead.

Did he just laugh? "Let's go, I'll walk you back," he said, tossing the cigarette butt and offering his arm. Shivering, I took it, feeling the warmth of his hand emediatly envelop mine. We walked in silence, the only sound being our footsteps echoing in the night.

“Thanks for walking me back, even though you didn't have to," I said, pulling away as we reached the apartment building, the warmer spot on my side suddenly feeling more empty without his touch.

"Don't mention it. I live just a block away.” He motions to the end of the street “It's on the way," he replied casually, giving me a small smile.

"Good night, Yoongi," I said with a small smile, unlocking the door.

As I step inside, I hear him call out, "Wait! You forgot something." Oh, what did I do now? I turn to see him holding out a can. "Cheers. Good night," he says, giving me a side smile before disappearing into the night.

Despite the chill in the air, my heart felt warm. Maybe there was more to Yoongi than meets the eye, even if we barely exchanged words.

As I slowly emerge from the depths of sleep, my face feels puffy, undoubtedly a consequence of the late-night binge I indulged in to quiet the restless beast within. Groaning, I peel my eyes open, , the sounds of chatter and music drift in from outside my room, beckoning me to join the waking world. Still groggy, I reach for my phone to check the time, only to find a spam of unread messages from Gabi and Eli in a new group chat.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I open the thread unread messages in a new group chat with Gabi and Eli. My thumb hovered over the screen. They were going back and forth with outfit ideas, and Gabi had apparently summoned our other friend over for a get-ready session. Ah, so that explains the commotion outside

Taking my time, I will eventually emerge from my room. Today, I didn't linger in bed as long as I usually do on my days off, but I also didn't feel compelled to rush out the door any faster than necessary. I opt for a nice and long shower, I focus on washing away the lingering scent of smoke that clung to my hair from standing near Yoongi while he smoked last night, even if only briefly.

With my earphones in, I manage to finish styling my hair and applying makeup within a reasonable timeframe. I settle on a pair of black jeans and a cozy black sweater, striking a balance between not looking like a complete slob and not appearing to put in too much effort for him. After all, I'm doing this for my friends, not for Jungkook.

Just as I put the finishing touches on my appearance, my phone screen lights up with a message from Jungkook, his number still unceremoniously saved as digits I haven't mustered the courage to add to my contacts.

"Hey, I'll be there in about 10 minutes. Bringing some beers and chips,"

the text buzzes on my phone.

"Ok,"

"I will let the girls know,"

I add before slipping my phone back into my pocket.

With a sigh, I rise from my bed, knowing it's time to join the party already underway in our living room. Eli and Gabi are probably impatiently waiting for me.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Eli's voice greets me as I enter, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I was honestly starting to worry you forgot about us!" Gabi chimes in, her expression a mix of mock, and amusement.

"How could I forget when you guys have been screaming since 3 in the afternoon?" I retort, flopping down onto the couch beside Gabi and reaching for her cup of wine. I take a sip, grimacing at the taste. I guess we're not drinking for the flavor.

"Jungkook is arriving in about 10 minutes. He just texted me," I inform them casually.

Their reaction is immediate, a chorus of excited squeals that make me roll my eyes.

They both look stunning, dressed as if they're ready to hit the club. Eli's in a short black dress that accentuates her figure, paired with tights and I am guessing, th unfamiliar pair of boots by the door. Her makeup is flawless, making her stand out even more. Gabi, on the other hand, rocks a more casual club look with cargo pants and a cropped long-sleeved shirt that somehow manages to make her look taller. And then there's me, dressed like I'm about to run errands, in black trousers and a sweater.

"I honestly don't understand what you guys see in him. Why all this commotion? He's just a guy," I remark, trying to sound nonchalant.

"My dearest friend," Gabi says, snatching her cup back from my hand, "I think you need a new pair of eyes if you don't think he's hot."

"Also, I heard he's a really sweet guy," Eli adds with a shy smile.

As if on cue to prevent me from saying anything else, the doorbell rings.

Okay, let the games begin.

Gabi springs from her seat like a coiled spring, rushing to the door as if staying outside for more than two seconds might spell disaster. "JungKook, it's so nice that you came!" she practically shrieks, enveloping the waiting man in a hug. He responds with a brief pat on her back before she releases him. "Please come in, and welcome to our humble abode."

He steps inside, taking in the modest living room, which consists of two couches, a coffee table, and a TV. Despite our attempts at decoration, with nice lamps and Gabi's fairy lights, some of the lights were already falling off. Gabi gestures for him to join us, and he makes his way over, greeting both Eli and me.

The atmosphere is palpably awkward, and I'm already counting down the minutes until this evening is over. Time to employ my expertise: finding an excuse to leave, even if just for a few moments. "I'll go get a drink for myself in the kitchen," I announce, not wanting to draw too much attention as Gabi engages in small talk about his day and the aftermath of Thursday's party.

Just as I'm about to reach the haven of the kitchen, I hear Jungkook rise from his seat. "Oh, I completely forgot! I brought chips and beer. Let me go grab them and put some beers in the fridge." Just my luck.

"No worries! It's the door that Y/N just went through," Gabi directs him, returning to her conversation with Eli about some troublesome teacher they both had.

I manage to grab a new glass from the cupboard when I hear Jungkook approach from behind. "Hey," I manage, awkwardness oozing from my every word.

"Hey!" He smiles, his eyes bright and lively, a far diferent from the subdued party on Thursday. "Uh, I was wondering, where can I leave this stuff?" He gestures towards the packages of chips and the pack of beer.

"Oh! Yeah, of course! You can leave them in the freezer right there to make them colder faster for you!" I point to the fridge at the opposite end of the kitchen. He moves with such confidence, it's almost... captivating. I catch myself staring for a moment too long.

When he's finished putting everything away, I notice he left one beer out from his pack. "Oh, wait before you open that," I say, swiftly stepping in front of him to open the fridge again. "You can take one of these; they're already cold." I grab one of the beers and the bottle of wine we already had chilling in the fridge, handing him the new can.

We're closer than I'd like again. How is it that I've found myself in this situation for the second time in under a week?

"Guys, why's it taking so long?!" Gabi's voice pierces through the awkward silence from the living room.

I seize the opportunity to make a quick exit. Grabbing two bowls and splitting the chips between them, only to have Jungkook follow right behind. In the living room I find Gabi and Eli sitting comfortably around the cofee table.

"Okay, so," Gabi starts, gesturing for us to take our seats opposite each other, "Eli and I checked out the parties downtown, but they're all lame. We figured we could just hang here and have some drinks instead."

"Ah, that's a shame," Jungkook pouts slightly. "Maybe we could go for a walk to the beach later? It's such nice weather outside."

I doubt a February night beach trip would be ideal, but I nod along. "Yeah, some fresh air sounds good," rolling my eyes inwardly at Eli's suggestion. Of course she would think so.

As the night wears on, we chat about our first week of classes and play some silly drinking games Gabi found online. After a couple of hours laughing and enjoying the company, the drinks disappear faster than I expected, and soon Jungkook stands up, suggesting the beach stroll.

"Time for that beach walk," he says, offering a hand to Eli and Gabi. With a almost no effort, they're off the couch. When he extends his hand to me, I take it, surprised by his strength. My heart flutters, but I push the feeling aside. Eli clearly has a thing for him, and I can't afford to catch any sort of feelings. It just rather unfortunate – for me- that he is in fact a sight for sore eyes.

“Are you ok, B?” Eli asks from the front door. Earlier during the game, she decided that Bestie was too long of a nickname and that B it was.

The question makes JungKook look back wide eyed to check. As Eli mentioned earlier, yeah, he seems like a sweet guy. I hope it works out between them.

“Oh don’t worry! I was just looking for my phone” and I lift the device on my hand and make my way to join them.

Jungkook was right—the weather is surprisingly pleasant for February. The full moon casts a soft glow over the streets as we make our way to the beach, laughter and chatter filling the air.

"Are they always this energetic?" Jungkook asks with a bunny smile, nodding towards Gabi and Eli.

"Yep," I reply with a chuckle. "Just don't ever give them any caffeine, or we'll never hear the end of it."

He laughs and watches as the girls tumble onto the sand, already deep in conversation. As we walk along the shore, he casually compliments my outfit.

"I thought I was underdressed," I joke, glancing down at our matching attire.

"Well, then I’m glad ewe're in the same boat then," he grins, and we continue our wobbly trek across the sand, joining Gabi and Eli in their laughter-filled oasis.

“Agreed” He laughs and continues to look at the two people party the girls are making while they reach the sand and make their way to a spot closer to the water.

Deciding to sit next to Gabi feels like the safest bet, especially since JungKook has been hitting it off with Eli all night. I settle down in the sand beside my shivering roommate, wrapping my arms around her to offer some warmth.

But my plans are interrupted when JungKook unexpectedly plops down beside me. I shoot Gabi a questioning look, but she just shrugs and lies back, pulling Eli and me down with her.

As we all lie there in silence, listening to the soothing sounds of the sea, JungKook breaks the quiet by pointing to the sky. "See that star over there?" he asks, his voice soft.

I turn to him, surprised by the sudden question. "What?" I inquire, following his gaze.

"That one," he repeats, leaning closer to me. When I look up, I notice a star shining brighter, as if responding to the tip of his finger point it at it.

"Oh, yeah, I think I see it," I murmur, pointing to the same star. He takes my hand, guiding it along a line of stars.

"Along with that one," he says, tracing the constellation. "That's Orion."

“What? I cannot see it! Where is it?”My attention snaps back to reality when Gabi interrupts, completely missing the celestial lesson. I drop JungKook's hand, and our shoulders brush as I turn to her, trying to redirect her gaze to the stars.

“Girl I think you are delusional” she laughs looking back at Eli, who is now dead quiet closer to her “I don’t see shit” she giggles again

"Gabi, pay attention," I joke, lightly tapping her arm. "See those stars there? Connect them with these."

Her eyes light up with understanding. "Oh my God, that's so cool!" she exclaims, giving me an excited slap on the arm. "JK, how the hell do you know this stuff?" she asks, turning to JungKook with curiosity

"Ah, I was in the Navy before university, it was mandatory and I thought it would be better to be done with it sooner rather than later” " JungKook admits, his gaze still fixed on the night sky, lost in memories.

"Wow, I didn't know you were in the military! That's impressive," Gabi says, propping herself up on her elbows to get a better look at him. "How did you like it?"

"It was fun, got to see some cool places, but I'm glad it's over now," he replies, seemingly willing to share but cutting off any further probing from Gabi before she can start.

"I'm getting really cold, guys," Eli announces, sitting up. "Can we go now?" She doesn't sound upset, but her tone lacks the earlier cheer.

"Yeah, I'm freezing too," Gabi agrees, pulling Eli to her feet and starting to walk. JungKook and I follow suit, trailing behind them.

As we make our way back, the alcohol hits me harder than I realized, and I nearly stumble on the sidewalk. JungKook's hand tightens around mine, steadying me.

"Jungkook..." I begin, but he interrupts.

"First of all, don't call me by my full name unless you're mad. We're friends, right? JK or something else is fine," he says, brushing sand off my coat and tugging me along

"JungKo—" I start again, but he stops and raises an eyebrow.

“Kook, I will be fine you don’t have to hold my hand” he continues walking when he’s pleased to hear that I called him by a nickname.

“Dice, I'm not letting go until we're home. Last thing I feel like doing is to drag your drunk ass to the ER, after face planting on the hard floor." he quips, continuing to walk.

I sigh, accepting his grip as we slowly make our way back. Despite my inebriation, it's oddly pleasant. We chat about our shared love for trashy TV dramas, realizing we're both hooked on a show that's ending soon..

"Ugh, that sucks," I grumble, frustrated by the finale approaching. "I was really one of the best ones out there right now”

"Yeah, it's a bummer," JungKook agrees, squeezing my hand reassuringly. "But hey, maybe we can find another show to watch together."

I smile at the suggestion, grateful for his attempt to lift the mood despite my drunken state. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

As we enter the warmth of the apartment, the cozy atmosphere envelops us, contrasting with the chill of the night outside. Gabi and Eli are already in the living room, engrossed in conversation. I take a seat on the couch, sinking into the cushions with a relieved sigh. JungKook settles beside me, and I shoot him a grateful smile.

"Thanks for not letting me face-plant on the sidewalk," I say to JungKook, feeling a tinge of embarrassment at my clumsiness.

He chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "No problem, Dice. Friends look out for each other, right?"

His words warm me from the inside out, and I nod in agreement, appreciating his easygoing nature and the way he effortlessly makes me forget about whatver is going on around me. But maybe that’s just the liquor talking.

Settling into the couch, I feel a sense of contentment wash over me. Despite the alcohol-induced haze clouding my thoughts, I'm surrounded by the comforting presence of my new friends, and all I can think right now is how resting my eyes would be amazing.

Gabi and Eli's conversation fades into the background as I lean back against the cushions, letting the fatigue of the evening wash over me. The events of the night replay in my mind like scenes from a movie, each moment etched vividly in my memory.

Lost in thought, I barely register Gabi's voice as she breaks the silence, her words pulling me back to the present. "So, what's the plan for tomorrow?" she asks, her eyes alight with excitement.

I glance around the room, meeting JungKook's gaze briefly before turning back to Gabi. "I don't know about you guys, but I could definitely use a lazy day," I say with a yawn, feeling the exhaustion of the week catching up to me.

Jungkook nods in agreement, a smile playing on his lips. "Sounds good to me. We can order takeout and binge-watch some more TV shows," he suggests.

The prospect of a lazy day spent with friends brings a smile to my face, and I nod. "yeah that could be nice” I say, feeling a sense of anticipation building in the pit of my stomach.

I hear them talking and I notice Eli is already retreating to Gabi’s room with her. I feel quite far gone but I can’t help but feel myself being caried into a much comfier setting and being enveloped by warm fabric before completely drifting off to sleep. Maybe I am dreaming already. Previous ✧ Next

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convexicalcrow · 2 months ago

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Mediaeval Guild Hall Permit Office AU let's goooooooo

The work of the permit office of the Hermit Guild Hall was, on the whole, rather boring. The Hermits themselves were, well. They were Hermits. They didn't actually want to be bothered except perhaps when another Hermit started selling goods that they also wanted to sell. Then perhaps there would be trouble in the form of several strongly worded letters that the permit office had to handle. But for the most part, the Hermits kept to themselves, because that's what Hermits do.

This was both something Sir Grian appreciated, as it gave him plenty of free time, and also hung from his neck as a burden, given how lowly this position was. He hadn't even got one of the good Guilds to administer. No smithing, jewellery or otherwise, for Sir Grian! No, he got the Hermits! Of all the guilds to get sent to-

"Sir Grian, there's a man here t-"

Sir Grian looked up to see Sir Scar ushering in another man, one who pushed past Sir Scar and walked right up to Sir Grian's chair as if he was sitting in his seat. He was a large man, dressed as a Lord who clearly had knights at his disposal, and a coat of arms on his tunic.

Sir Grian looked up at him. "And you are...?"

"Lord Ursara. Get out of my seat. You work for me now," the man said.

The man had a bear displayed on his tunic, one that Sir Grian felt he should recognise. It was all he got to look at before he scurried out of place. If this Lord wanted to run the Hermit guild, well, that was his choice!

Lord Ursara sat in his seat and picked up some of the papers. "Hmm. About as disorganised as I thought it'd be, I see, I see."

"I mean, there's not a lot of work, really! They're Hermits! Most arguments we get are about who gets to live in the big houses, and who gets to sell which items. It's all very boring, really," Sir Grian said.

"Well, then, you won't mind if I take it off your hands, will you?" Lord Ursara said. "I have my orders. Now, go fetch me some lunch."

Sir Grian took one look at his dismissive gesture and left, muttering a 'yes, my lord' as he went.

"Lord Sahara-"

"It's Ursara. And you are?" Lord Ursara looked up from his papers to see Sir Scar standing there. "Oh, you must be one of the two officers Sir Grian employed to enforce the guild's decisions, correct? What's your name?"

Sir Scar beamed. "Oh! Hello! I'm Sir Scar, and the other officer is Sir Skizzly Wizzly Man! He's- where is he? I think he's out back. Hang on-"

Lord Ursara watched as Sir Scar somehow managed to trip over three separate baskets and still stay on his feet as he disappeared somewhere.

"Skizzly Wizzly Man? Jeez, it's really gone to the dogs round here," Lord Ursara muttered.

There was a similar cacophany as the two officers returned and stood before the desk, saluting with the eagerness and earnestness of brand new recruits. Lord Ursara stood and looked them over.

"Hmm. And you're the men he chose to enforce this guild's orders? Really?" Lord Ursara said.

"I mean, we were really just the- ow! Hey! Don't kick me!"

"Not in from of Lord Scarhara!" Sir Scar hissed.

Lord Ursara crossed his arms in front of his chest and waited for them to stop whispering to each other and stand to attention again. He sighed.

"Firstly, it's Lord Ursara. Secondly, you're fired. I can get better men with swords who've tasted blood down at the tavern. Useless imps," Lord Ursara said.

"Hey! No, we're good at this, I promise!" Sir Scar protested.

"Hmm, I don't think so. Leave me. I have work to do," Lord Ursara said.

He sat back down at his desk and didn't look at the men again as they left dejectedly.

"Did you just fire my two finest officers?" Sir Grian said as he entered with a tray of food. Preserved meats, jams, breads, cheese, fruits, and ale.

"Sir, I've seen drunkards more competent than those fools. Be glad that they're gone," Lord Ursara said.

"I mean, I guess, but-"

"I didn't hire you to talk. In fact, I didn't hire you at all. You'll have your own desk, and take orders from me. You will do nothing unless I say so, understood?" Lord Ursara said.

"Understood," Sir Grian said.

"Good. Now, brief me on the Hermits and their locations. And don't leave anyone out."

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #fanfic #mediaevial guilds permit office au #cubfan135 #grian #gtwscar #skizzleman #the hermits as actual hermits #bc why not lol #i have Plans for this au but we'll see where this ends up going once i get writing

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raidpirate52 · 5 months ago

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Backyard Sports OC

Name: Jett Hawke

Nickname: The Flyer

Gender: Boy

Birthday: November 18th

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Hair:

Body: Tall (between Ricky and Jorge)

Wears sports goggles.

Best friends: Felix Grant, Ace Patterson, Reese Worthington, Sidney Webber (crush), Marky DuBois.

Friends: Ashley Webber, Luanne Lui, Angela Delvecchio, Betty Houston, Buddy Cheque

Friendly Rivals: Pablo Sanchez, Kiesha Phillips, Ernie Steele, Dante Robinson, Stephanie Morgan

Bitter Rivals (but okay with off the field): Achmed Khan, Tony Delvecchio, Ronny Dobbs, Joey MacAdoo.

Enemies: Jay Green, Dmitri Petrovich, Jimmy Knuckles

Bio: A standard jock, Jett loves sports and loves to boast. Whether it's guarding the plate, guarding the endzone, the basket or the goal, you can expect Jett to come up with big defensive plays and then mock you in your face. Very competitive, he's often at ends with the Backyard Sports neighborhood at large with the more casual sports kids and likewise more competitive ones.

Around Sidney, however, his stats either go up or down. In front of her as a teammate he'll want to impress her and will play better. On the other team, however, he'll be at her whim (i.e.: He'll tell her what pitch is coming next, leading her to have a big hit, or hand the ball off to her for an easy basket in basketball), much to his teammates annoyance.

Before Reese rose to power as a sports captain, Jett was mostly an above-average generic, but one season would put the two together and the two would bond over their mutual liking of comics, film and video games. After that season, he, Felix, and Ace would become friends and nominate Reese to become a captain to regularly recruit the three of them.

(I might make a post about the shenanigans these four get into some other time, but as for Jett): His main role in the group is often protecting Reese after the latter runs his mouth off to the wrong person and has to run behind him.

General Notes:

Gets a stat increase when wearing green; a stat decrease if wearing pink.

Gets a stat increase when teamed with Sidney Webber; decrease if opposing her. Sidney is unaffected.

Nicknamed "The Flyer", beyond his name, is after "The Land Before Time" character, Petrie. His birthday was chosen to coincide the film's anniversary.

Sports Accomplishments:

-1x Backyard Soccer Town Champion*

-2x Cereal Bowl Champion**

-4x Clanky Cup Champion

*- I head canon that the neighborhood has its own league then sends its best players for the international tournament after season's end, which he isn't selected, but Reese regularly is.

**- Wone one without Reese and his other friends (there was a season where all four were strategically broken up).

Below is his sports stats.

Baseball Stats:

Main position: Catcher

Batting: 7/10

Running: 8/10

Pitching : 3/10

Fielding: 5/10

Football Stats:

Main Position: Linebacker

Throwing: 2/4

Catching: 3/4

Blocking: 3/4

Kicking: 2/4

Soccer Stats:

Main position: Defender

Kicking: 2/4

Control: 2/4

Defending: 4/4

Running: 4/4

Basketball Stats:

Inside Shooting: 6/10

Outside Shooting: 5/10

Ball-Handling: 5/10

Defense: 8/10

Quickness: 8/10

Hockey Stats:

Main Position: Defender

Shooting: 8/10

Passing: 5/10

Skating: 9/10

Defending: 10/10

Goaltending: 6/10

#backyard sports #backyard baseball #backyard football #backyard soccer #backyard hockey #backyard basketball #reese worthington #backyard sports oc

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lilacarclady · 10 months ago

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A snippet from my latest Erwin x Reader fanfic ❤️‍🔥

Find it on Wattpad/Ao3: @lilacarclady

The dark surface of your tea stares back at you as you sit at the table in the big dining hall. Tapping your index finger against your cheek as you prop yourself against your palm. It's, again, one of those early mornings, where you're being dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn to do your routine warm ups. It's been like this for three years now. And every year, where you think things will get better, easier, they don’t. If anything, they get worse. Harder. Rougher. The training hours seem to stretch for too long by each passing day. Four hours in the morning, then routine work at the barracks, depends on what you get assigned to, then two hours of training in the evening. Then dinner at the main hall, along your captains and your comrades.

Sometimes you lose your sense of reality, lose your grip on things, and you start to forget why on earth are you even here! With each drop of sweat, blood, tear, you ask yourself why? For what? For those ungrateful cowards living inside these walls? Or that pig of a king, sitting inside the safe and comfort of three walls, having people throw their lives in vain just to defend him?

But then you take a deep breath, and you remember. Remember why you're here, what brought you into this force. That deep aching grip around your heart.

Vengeance… That's what got you here.

Absentmindedly, as a reaction to these thoughts, your eyes blink and your hazy stare moves up. In the direction of the end of the hall, where that long wooden table was at. And precisely, at the figure sitting down at the far right, holding his cup of coffee in his hand, his head dipped down, brows furrowed, too focused on the papers in his hand. You instantly start glaring.

"Have you seen those poor things?" You hear a murmur, then a body slumping down on the chair next to you. Then the chair in front of you makes a scrape over the floor and another body sits. You blink again, and break away your eyes from that table, to your own. And see Connie next to you, reaching for a slice of bread from the basket. Sasha is opposite.

"They look like they're about to shit themselves." Connie snorts. "But boy, they're in for a ride with Captain Shadis!” His hand reaches for the butter next, and he starts buttering the slice. Sasha was already munching on hers.

"Mhm..." Sasha nods.

"Why are they still recruiting kids?" You blurt, your eyes switching between them. "I get we were signed when we were kids because of the need back then, but why again? We haven't even finished our training yet!"

Connie shrugs, his lips curling in confusion.

"Maybe as a reinforcement?" Sasha says, and you shake your head slowly in response. It doesn't make sense. A part of you feels proud of those little kids. Because you get it, that want to prove something. That desire to protect. Yet another part feels sorry, heartbroken even. Because you know what's coming for them, having been there yourself. Being treated as nothing but a weapon, or a shield, to protect this pathetic so-called humanity. Training to death, to literally walk into your death, to serve those higher ranks, who couldn't even bother to take one step into mud and blood.

Heartless…

Your eyes shoot again towards that table, realizing it'd probably been his decision to allow kids to sign again. Because that's all he cares about, new recruits to train, to replace the ones he loses each and every pointless expedition he makes outside of the wall.

You glance once again to the right, and he's gone. Not much of a surprise there. He never stays too long, because for him, business and duty always come first.

Spending these past three years training under his force, you realized everything you once thought of him was true. He cared about no one, nothing, but his job. This force. And his name, as the protecter of humanity between the walls. You never once caught him wasting time, never even saw him cracking a smile for once. He's always frowning, brows deeply creased and furrowed in focus on whatever he had in front of him. Whether it’s a report or someone talking to him. And he never talks much, only to his right hand, Captain Levi Ackerman. And some other captains. He never looks at anyone else, because that's how arrogant and proud he is. To him, the rest of you are nothing but disposal insects, getting trained to serve under his command and die under his command and if it were for him to decide, he would let you breathe under his own command…

You sigh deeply when you hear the bells, signaling the start of your morning training. You stand up, putting your plate and cup away, then you walk out of the hall. Your mind still buzzing, still whirling inside its skull, that you didn't notice the two people walking alongside you. Only a few steps behind. Heavy, confident steps, walking the way that led towards the training field.

Not until you heard a huff, then. "Oy!"

Your body instantly jolts, snapping you out of your thoughts, and your feet halt and you turn around. Your gaze lowers down, to a pair of grey eyes staring at you impatiently. So annoyed. Then your gaze looks behind those eyes, at the glaring blue eyes behind them. That didn't even bother to glance your way.

"Y-Yes?" You murmur.

Captain Levi arches a brow, and you shake your head quickly, as if taking that passing moment back, as your eyes keep dancing up and down, between the commander and his captain. Your heart pulses faster and heavier.

"Yes?" He repeats, his eyes even more agitated.

"Yes, captain Levi!”

"Tch… for fuck’s sake." You hear a click of tongue, and that comment, then you glance up once again at your commander, seeing his fiery eyes stare past you as he starts walking again. Annoyed and not addressing your presence as if you were another tree along his way. Your hands ball into fists by your sides.

"Next time, remember your damn manners, and walk three steps behind your superiors!” Levi snaps, then looks away and starts walking again.

Your feet stay glued to the ground, both hands still fisted, and you press them. So hard, you feel your nails digging in your flesh as you wait.

I loathe him. Them. All of them...

After a few minutes, when everyone comes along to the field at last, you start walking again. Reaching the training area with some of the last arrivals. As you walk, your brows furrow in confusion, as you see the unbothered faces of Levi and Erwin waiting there. Standing next to captain Hange, who is supposed to be responsable for your training this year.

Odd…

Your chest rises, taking in a slow inhale, then it lowers down with your exhale as you walk to your position. Second row, between Mikasa, your roommate, and Connie again. You hear chatting, questions and a few comments on why on earth the commander is observing today's training session. And you can't help but listen, because in the past three years of training, other than the captain in charge of your training, none of them stepped foot inside these fields.

"It's really coming faster than we thought, huh!" Connie murmurs, you hear Sasha hushing him from behind. As you slowly lock your hands behind your back and push your chest forward, your chin up. But your eyes stay glued to the blonde haired man a few meters away from your rows. Dressed in his uniform, his gear always strapped and ready, his face always proud and agitated for some reason. He's nodding to something Hange was saying, his eyes deeply focused on theirs, listening intently.

"Well, yeah! Considering the tragic and failed expedition they had last month, they need to get their hands on some new expendables." Jean mutters, in the row next to you.

They're here to finally choose new recruits for the Survey Corps!

You feel a twitch in the corner of your mouth, a smirk trying so hard not to show. It's so close. So, so close now. You could almost feel it in the way your heart started racing, in the blood that surged to your whole body. Your sweet revenge is coming so soon.

"Alright!" You hear Hange speaks, their voice so stern and filled with authority you almost frown. But then you conclude it's because they're being observed today. And they can't act how they act on regular basis, all goofy and indulgent.

They start the routine warm ups of your training. Hundred times jumping jacks, thirty minutes of jogging, fifty lunges, then your daily fifty push ups.

You take your space, everyone takes their positions. And just when you're about to get down on your knees, you hear murmurs from the front. Unconsciously, your eyes go up and you glance in the direction of the captains. You see Levi talking with Hange, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes not leaving them. Then you see him, commander Erwin, standing alongside them. His hands locked behind his back, his face scanning the laying bodies of your comrades as his ears keep on listening. His eyes, same as six years ago, still carry that empty, cold glare in them. It glints under the sun, and for a second you don't see the eyes of a human standing there. But the eyes of some beast, its stare so animalistic, so fierce and hard it makes your skin dot and crawl with uneasiness despite the blazing sun above your head.

You exhale, and just when his eyesight reaches your row, you duck your head down and get into your position. You know, if you'd been late for a split of a second, your eyes would've met. And that was the last thing you wanted. Because still, after all these years, you couldn't bear to look into his eyes. The murderer of your family…

Your mouth twitches again, as you face the ground and lay your palms flat over the dirt, you smirk. Your head manifesting the right place and time, where you'll finally look into his eyes. The day you draw your blade into his chest, his heart.

If he even has one...

"I don't hear counting!" Hange yells, they start walking, slowly, observing the rising and falling bodies of all of you. You start hearing numbers all around, your comrades already doing their push ups and counting. And you start going at it yourself.

"One... Two... Three..." Sweat breaks over your forehead, dots start to trickle and fall to the dirt in front of you. You exhale, your breath already struggling, but you know it's not that big of a deal. You've been doing it for years, fifty pushups is nothing for you.

"Twenty-five... Twenty-six... Twenty-Seven..." The murmurs you heard before had stopped, momentarily, then picked up again. In the corner of your eyes, you notice Hange is no longer observing, but in a deep discussion with captain Levi again at the far side of the yard. Yet, you still hear tapping, boots thunking the dirt as you keep pushing up, lowering down, pushing up, lowering down.

"Thirty-nine... Forty... Forty-one..." Your lungs exhale, a pool of sweat had already formed under your face in the dirt, your chin still trickling. Your elbows start getting that familiar ache, your core burn, and your toes get numb. Yet your ears keep following that sound, those boots, thunk, thunk, thunk...

"Forty- three... Forty-four... Forty-five..."

Cramp!

Instantly, your stomach clenches, your abs on fire, and your elbows give in. Your face falls first into that damp dirt under you. And your body follows. You slump into the rough ground, and a small puff of dust rises and gets swiped away with the breeze. You start breathing hard, inhaling and exhaling heavy as the dirt penetrates your lungs and you start coughing. You feel mortified, not because this was such a routine for you and it's your first time failing it, but because those boots, that thunking, had stopped. And as you lift your face slowly, almost in dread, you see a long, massive shadow had formed over your body. Blocking the sky and your whole view as you try to peek a glance…

Thud!

Your face slams, heavy and hard, right back into the dirt you almost wanted to groan from how hard you hit the ground. Your cheek gets grazed. Your lungs suffocate on the dust again and your chest lets out a few more coughs. You don't need to see, you don't need anyone near you to tell you what happened. As the pressing of his big and heavy boot keeps on pushing your head down into your pool of sweat.

"If you can't do a goddamn pushup the right way, you might as well sign to kitchen duties and save us all the effort of training such fucking failures!” He shouts, his voice is loud, deep, and filled with so much authority you almost shudder under his foot.

You can feel everyone's eyes on you without even looking, and you feel your cheeks heating up from embarrassment. This was nothing new, coming from him. He's always been known for how cruel and strict he was. But what he was doing to you now, was not only cruel but disrespectful you felt your blood boiling.

I'm not a failure...

Your palms fist, and your feet shift on their tiptoes again. You incline your elbows and with his heavy foot still over your head, you push. Up, up, up, until that loud groan finally escapes your delicate throat and you yell. "Forty-six... Forty-seven... Forty-eight..."

He doesn't say anything, doesn't do anything. He keeps his foot over your head, as you keep pushing, then lowering. Your chest letting out jagged and rough breaths, your voice so raspy and hurt, you keep going. And you could swear, with each time you elevated your body up, you feel him putting more pressure onto you.

"Forty- nine... Fifty..." You scream, almost wanting to let go of your body, move your elbows and let it fall to the ground again. But you don't. You keep yourself pushed up, your arms began shaking, your breath held inside your chest, and your face turns so red yet you keep on fighting it. Your body stays up that the pushup turns to a thirty second plank.

Not until you hear his annoyed sigh, and feel the pressure being removed from your head and his boot slams the ground in front of you once again that you let go and immediately crumble down.

You don't look up, not yet. You start dragging heavy breaths, in, out, in, out... Until you hear him walking away, joining his captains on the other side. That you look up in his direction, and immediately, your eyes lock.

He's been staring at you, muttering a few things to Hange, while his eyes stay glued to you. A piercing shade of icy blue, it traps the air inside your lungs.

Then you exhale roughly, your mouth starts curling in disgust and your eyes can't hide it anymore, you glare right back at him. And you feel it, something igniting, burning, inside your body. It makes your fingers dig deep into the dirt, you can feel your nails scraping. Yet you keep on glaring, your jaw grits, and your body stiffens. And now you're not sure who's the beast and who's the prey anymore...

He keeps on looking at you, a slight twitch in his lips happens. A slight lift of an eyebrow. As if daring you to break that glare away, to bow your head and show him the respect he deserves. But you don’t. You keep on glaring back, your chest keeps on panting. Your body rigid and your eyes on fire. And now you’re the one daring him to look away.

But Erwin blinks, finally, when Hange asks him something. And he breaks his eyes away with a hint of a vile smirk over his lips. As if telling you don’t get full of yourself, you didn’t win this one. But he merely let you have it.

Suddenly, your body flinches and jolts when a hand reaches you. "Y/N!" You hear Mikasa right next to you, then you look to see her crouching down to level with you. "Are you okay?"

You nod, your head feels so dizzy from how hard your nerves were tugged and strained. Then you hear a chuckle.

"Oh, my fucking God! That was BADASS!" Connie shouts, also approaching you to give you a 'well done!' slam over your shoulder. It knocks the breath out of you. And then you smile, then chuckle and shake your head.

"She really showed Commander Erwin who's the boss!"

You snort, shaking your head again. "Shut it now." And you shove him away, then you take Mikasa's hand to pull your body up.

Did I?

Everyone starts murmuring, talking with each other, as they start to head out of the training field. And you walk with them, ignoring their eyes and comments as you keep your head down. Your cheeks sting from that harsh pressing over the ground but you ignore it as well. Then you start feeling something else. Creeping up over you, seizing you, like an invisible magnet force, tempting you to look. To turn your head, and look back, to the left, at him. Because you are sure, the way your body is feeling it again, that he's staring right at you once again.

And, unconsciously, your mouth tugs, in a very wicked smirk, as you kick the floor to keep on walking, out and away from him.

I’m so close...

#attack on titan #aot fanart #aot x reader #aot smut #aot fanfiction #erwin smith #aot erwin #commander erwin #erwin x reader #snk erwin #attack on titan erwin #erwin smut #erwin x you #erwin fanfic #erwin smith fanfiction #erwin smith smut #attack on titan fanfiction

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