#he lifts morale up he cheers them up he looks out for them he speaks on behalf of yu when yu doesnt want to talk

[daily-hanamura]

[belit0]

Heyy, could I request a madara x reader where your hashirama and tobiramas little sister or something

Sure thing love, here we go, little adventure💕😩💫

Senju bros can be possessive just like Uchihas, u would be surprised👀🫱🏼‍🫲🏼

Tobirama enters the house huffing, exhausted and disgusted to be using his valuable time in this way. Now that the village is calm, functional, and not so dependent, he can take the liberty to do whatever he pleases, morally wrong or not.

So, when he noticed some particular marks on (Y/N)'s neck, hickeys more properly speaking, he knew he had to investigate where they came from. How dare she, the Senju princess, walk around with such a wild pattern on her neck? Even worse, who is the idiot that thinks it prudent to leave marks on the younger sister of the Senju leaders?

With a free schedule and time to spare, Tobirama thought it wise to find out the mystery without having an uncomfortable chat with his sister. Of course, he didn't expect to have a comparable dialogue with his older brother.

Arriving in the courtyard, he finds a Hashirama submerged up to his elbows in dirty water, using a wooden board to scrub soapy clothes against it. The mixture of emotions shown on his face is unfathomable, and it is not until the albino clears his throat three times that the Hokage stops violently scrubbing.

"Anija, what are you doing?" he rests a shoulder against the door, and folding his arms he inquires.

"Isn't it obvious? Laundry." The dryness of his response and the lack of typical cheerfulness put Tobirama on alert, analyzing his expression more deeply. Is he angry?

"You wash yours on weekends. It's Tuesday, your behavior exceeds normal limits."

"It's not mine." Hashirama looks at him with angry eyes, a mixture of rage and frustration mixed with uncertainty.

"Whose then?"

"(Y/N)'s." He says it sheepishly, shifting his gaze quickly to the dirty water and scrubbing hard again, too hard to be simply washing clothes. There is what can be interpreted as anger in his movements, viciousness.

"I think our younger sister is adult enough to take care of...her underwear? Anija that-"

"For god's sake Tobirama! Don't even imply such a thing!" He explodes in a restrained scream, dropping the board and splashing water everywhere. He snorts indignantly, and seems to gather his strength before speaking, "I just... I stopped by her room, to say hello of course, but all I found were several pairs of underwear on the floor, full of..."

"Full of?" Tobirama isn't sure he wants to know the answer.

"Sperm."

"FUCK!"

Connecting dots, taking into account the marks on (Y/N)'s neck and the underwear incidents that Hashirama believes he has to deal with, the two brothers embark on a deep and embarrassing conversation about their sister's private life, speculating what she does in her spare time and who she's dating.

Who is the man who leaves hickeys on her skin and ruins her panties with dangerous fluids? Neither of them know, but they both set out to find out together.

They devise a plan, a master strategy to follow their younger sister without her knowledge and keep an eye on her for as long as it takes to finally find her suitor, to decide if he is worthy of her or not.

The execution is perfect, both Senju moving through the shadows of the night and hiding in the ones provided by the sun, always blending in with the view and disabling chakras, impossible to detect. Tobirama employs his sensory abilities to further understand (Y/N)'s movements, who she sees during the day, who she hangs out with at night, but neither of them anticipates what is the truth of the situation.

When seeing their sister enter the Uchiha compound, the albino's hair stands on end. Even more cautious than ever, they follow her to the main house, where their jaws drop.

Madara comes out of his home, calm and relaxed, scantily clad considering it's 3 o'clock in the afternoon, and wraps his arms around (Y/N) lifting her off the ground, giving her a long, lingering kiss on the mouth. He squeezes her butt with one hand, while she curls her hands in his long hair, pressing him tighter against her face as she smiles.

Tobirama is quick, too quick for his own good, and in a fit of anger and indignation leaps from his hiding place ready to attack the Uchiha leader, having envisioned how to assassinate him without hurting his younger sister in the process. When his kunai is an inch away from that hideous tangled wig, a huge log stops him from the wrist, sabotaging his perfect assassination.

Madara doesn't flinch, looking to the side and putting distance between the threat still with (Y/N) in his arms. He settles her better in his grip, and flashes a morbid smirk. "Well, well, well... what do we have here?"

"Tobirama, back off!" Hashirama shouts from the hideout they had agreed upon, his jutsu preventing his brother from moving dangerously against the pair.

"YOU HAVE SINNED (Y/N)! SINNED!" he shouts through clenched teeth and wild-eyed, understanding the cum in his sister's panties comes from an Uchiha, AND WHAT UCHIHA! fucking (Y/N), sold to the enemy, compulsive backstabber.

"I guess I'm going to hell, Tobi, but I'm happy." The woman embraces her beloved closer, Madara tightening his grip on her buttocks to keep her feet from touching the ground, unwilling to let go.

"Don't you worry, Senju, the devil is going to punish her himself. By the way, guess who that is." The Uchiha winks at him, and at his reply, Tobirama shouts angrily toward the sky, almost freeing himself from his older brother's prison. More branches sprout from the one holding him by the wrist and wrap around him completely, enclosing him in a wooden shell as Hashirama approaches with a grin from ear to ear.

"Madara! I'm so glad it's you! Don't worry about underwear guys! make as many heirs as you can!" Tobirama's muffled cries are heard from his shell, but the three laugh with genuine joy at the way their families come together.

[yellowkitkieran]

To Have and to Heal (Part 14)

Masterlist

Read part 1 here

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Single working dad Martin Odegaard is navigating the ups and downs of parenthood all on his own, and he’s struggling. That’s not to mention football, life and... love?

Martin should be focused on today's match. In less than two hours, he'll be out on the pitch to captain his side. He needs clarity. He needs precision. He needs to stop thinking about you. 

But everywhere he looks, he's reminded of you. He can't bring himself to delete the dozens of photos on his phone or the messages you've sent him. The note you stuck in his duffle one day still hangs in his cubby, shoved between the shelf and the back wall. Martin aches worse now than being plowed over by a defender. How is he expected to lead when he is a husk of who he's meant to be? 

Martin runs a hand through his hair. At no point did he expect to become this attached, to have his mood so dependent on another person. He doesn’t like it, not at all. 

"Mate, you giving this talk or am I?" Kieran's Scottish accent grates on Martin's ears for no good reason. Kieran has been doing that quite a bit lately; he talks quietly about the woman he’s started seeing, and is careful to avoid doing so in Martin’s presence, but it still stings. At least someone on his squad is happy. 

Though grateful for the offer, Martin shakes his head. Team talks ahead of games are his responsibility, and he'll be damned if he misses it because you dumped him. Heartbreak aside, he needs to be the captain his team needs him to be.

So, Martin clamors to his feet. He forces his shaking legs to work, to remain steady, whilst his mind works through the fog surrounding it. Each step he takes towards the center of the sparsely decorated away dressing room feels like he is wading through waist-high molasses. But Martin has always been a fighter, and today is no different. 

“Facing anyone away from home is tough," Martin starts a minute later. He sounds more confident than he feels, which he is grateful for. "Nothing we haven't won before, though. Their fans are harsh but we are strong. We've faced worse and come away with three points. I'm not saying this will be a cakewalk." Martin observes the faces of his teammates, noting which seem hesitant and which are hungry. There's fewer of the former thankfully, which bodes well for their chances. 

"This will be both a physical and mental game. We haven't been challenged like this in over a month. Our last fixtures have been easy wins. No frills, nothing fancy- go back to your roots, the basics. Let's show our gunners what they traveled all this way for!"

Though far more brief than his usual, Martin's words have the desired effect regardless. The lads all clap and cheer, raring to go. Slipping into his matchday headspace is easier now that his teammates are here to lift him up. 

Not that it matters- ten minutes into the match Martin knows they’re done for. Sevilla batters Martin's side, raking them across the coals. A 3-0 loss away in the Champion's League isn't exactly a morale booster. The changing room is quiet after the final whistle blows. Arteta doesn't bother to give any sort of speech. The gaffer lets the silence speak for his disappointment, which somehow hurts more than if he had screamed at them for hours. Martin himself is too caught up in his head; his loose passing led to the goal that sealed their fate tonight, and that's not something he'll forgive himself for any time soon. 

On the ride from the stadium to the airport, Martin turns his phone over in his hand. In a perfect world, you would be at his house comforting Atla right now. The two of you would be cuddled up on his sofa, Atla probably insisting on being wrapped up in the duvet off Martin’s bed- that’s always her favorite on match day. 

The worst thing about an away loss is knowing that Atla’s nanny, bless her heart, won’t be able to keep Atla from crying. She hates seeing Arsenal lose, especially when it’s in the Champion’s League. Her poor nanny is probably frantically attempting to soothe her, though Martin is certain Atla won't calm down until he is home early tomorrow. 

If Martin is sure of anything, it’s that he needs to get his mind off of his lackluster performance. Because if he fixates on it, he’ll be lost in his head for who knows how long. Martin, as the face of his team, needs to be focused on the bigger picture. Arsenal still tops their group, regardless of tonight’s result; though even that knowledge cannot lift his heart enough. 

Messaging you might possibly be the worst idea he's ever had. He convinces himself to tuck his phone away until he's on the plane. There, crammed between the window and a snoozing Aaron, he can no longer resist temptation. Martin connects to the onboard wifi and pulls up your contact. 

He shouldn't. 

It's a bad idea, right? 

Fuck it. 

I miss you. If I asked if you're free tomorrow night what would you say?

Delivered at 21:53. Martin stares at the screen until his eyes grow heavy. The 'no new messages' in the app hangs over his head. When Martin falls asleep against his will, he dreams of titans tumbling from their mountainous perches, crushed under the weight of unmet expectations. 

*********

Leaving Martin's message unread is an exercise in restraint. Your fingers itch to click on it for multiple reasons, not the least of which is genuine curiosity. You know it starts with 'I miss you' and includes some sort of question, though you have no idea what he'd be asking. Maybe he wants the kit he gave you back, but he's too afraid to ask outright. 

Whatever it is, it doesn't matter. It's Monday, which means your students are your focus, not your personal life. Throwing yourself into work has never been a problem; you find small tasks to keep you busy when your students are working quietly in groups. Things like testing whiteboard markers, sharpening pencils, organizing bookshelves. Anything that keeps you busy and on your feet is acceptable at this point. Motion means distraction, and distraction means you don't think about your phone sitting in your bag. 

Your prep period comes and goes without incident, as you plan your entire week of lessons in the hour-long session. Your best friend is absent today, meaning she thankfully doesn't barge in to bother you about your day with Martin. Thank the stars, because you aren't sure you could have that conversation without a breakdown. At least you only have a few more hours until the final bell rings, and then you only need to get through after school care before you can flop on your sofa with a container of ice cream. 

Your stomach ties itself in knots as you set up the gymnasium like you normally do. Coloring pages are laid out on the plastic picnic table, footballs are scattered around a child-sized goal, and snacks are set out for kids to grab as they come in. You keep yourself as busy as possible whilst they arrive. You recognize Atla’s laugh rising above her friend’s voices and force yourself to remain seated. After successfully avoiding speaking to Atla for nearly an hour, a glance at the clock confirms your fear: her guardian is late for pick up.

"Hey, Atla," you murmur, crouching down to her level and keeping your voice light. You're fully aware of how she bristles when you speak, her little shoulders going rigid. "Is your papa picking you up today?"

"I don't know." Atla turns her head slightly away, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. It isn’t her responsibility to know who is meant to pick her up, but if you can avoid calling Martin to clarify…

You sigh through your nose while offering the child a smile, "do you remember him saying anything about pick up today? If someone different was coming by, maybe your uncle Kieran?"

Atla shrugs, continuing to color her cotton candy bunny. She sighs, purposely not offering you a pencil like she normally does. You know why, of course. You can’t exactly blame her for being frosty. 

Rationalizing with children is no simple feat. It isn't your place to sit down and explain to Atla what dating is, and why it isn't a sin for Martin to be dating her teacher. She's a toddler, and in her mind her mum will be coming back. Her mum would be devastated to find Martin with someone else, and that's all that matters to Atla. 

Instead of talking, you communicate in Atla's language. You pick up a purple pencil on your own and leaf through the printouts until you find one of a frog, then set about coloring it in. Atla pauses, clearly curious about your design, and watches you with bright blue eyes. You let her, wanting to repair the relationship you have with her above all else. It doesn't matter that your heart aches when you look at her and see Martin's features in her delicate face; she is a student and you love her the same as the rest.

You draw bright polka dots across the frog, determined to communicate in an easy, stress free way. Atla is an artist and as such, regardless of her age, her mind is soothed by creativity. You allow yourself to relax as Atla shows no signs of rejecting your companionship. You are all too aware of her eyes on you, following each streak of color you lay onto the page. It is an effort to remain quiet, letting the soft music playing from your desk across the room fill the silence. 

Finally, Atla squeaks out a question- "why were you kissing my papa?"

You mull the question over for a minute. You could lie, try and convince her that she had made it up. That would not be fair to anyone, especially Atla. No, the truth is best, especially because she will find out sooner or later. "Because I care about your papa very much. He means a lot to me, and that’s how I wanted to show him."

"You do?" Atla pauses to look up at you. “But I care about my friends a lot. I don’t kiss them! Papa said that’s only for people you love.” You afford her your undivided attention, setting your pencil down and sliding the page aside. Conscious of your body language, you refrain from crossing your arms to avoid closing yourself off. You have to be careful with what you say; the last thing you want is to admit your feelings to Martin’s tiny daughter. 

"Yes, I do. I care about your papa. You know how sometimes in films, when the princess is really sad, the prince comes along and cheers her right up? That's what your papa is for me." 

Atla's brow furrows like she's trying to picture it. She then sorts through the stack of coloring pages and pulls out one of Ariel and Eric, tapping the half-scribbled sheet, "like princess Ariel and her prince?"

You nod, thankful for her understanding. "Exactly. And I care about your papa so much that I'd let a sea witch take my voice," you lean over and pretend to grab at Atla, imitating stealing her voice from her throat like in the film. You continue when a delighted giggle fills the room, "and use it for her own plans. I'd be quiet my whole life if it meant I could be around your papa."

"I like when you talk. I don't want a sea witch to steal your voice." 

"Well then I'll just have to protect it won't I? Can't have you getting upset!" You playfully tap Atla's nose, earning you another giggle. Her wide smile has her dimples on full display, a sight which you admit you’ve missed almost as much as her pa’s.

Martin clears his throat from across the gym. That funny feeling in your stomach reappears with a vengeance. 

“Pa? Pa!” Atla's head turns and she immediately clamors over to him, her knee knocking the table in her haste to get up. Pencils roll to the ground and you bend to pick them up, forcing yourself to keep your eyes on your task and not on Martin. So studious are you that you refuse to look up even when a pair of black trainers edge into your view, followed closely by a pair of tiny white ones. 

“Hello,” Martin murmurs. Your entire body tenses at the sound of his voice. You haven't realized how viscerally you've missed it until you hear it. 

“Hello Mr. Ødegaard.” 

Martin doesn't speak just then. He doesn't need to; the title you've used says more than a thousand words ever could. 

Square one. 

“I apologize for being late. Training ran long,” Martin says with perfect formality. Gone is the hint of flirting you had come to expect. There are no traces of fondness. Instead his words are punctuated by an undercurrent of mourning. 

“It’s not a problem. Don't fret about it. Atla’s bag is on the coat hook- these are hers from today.” When you stand to hand over the drawings, you train your eyes on the crest on Martin's chest. You refuse to glance any higher. If you do, you know you won't be able to control yourself. One glance at his eyes and you'll crumble, and you cannot allow yourself to be so selfish. 

“Atla, grab your things please.” 

“Yes, pa.” Atla's little footsteps ring through the gymnasium, piercing in the silence. You and Martin both remain frozen, as your feet are glued to the polished wood beneath your feet. Your heart is an ocean in your ears. It pounds on your ribcage, begging and pleading to be set loose. Your fingers twitch at your side, joints aching to reach for him. You crave the familiarity of his lips, the burn that washed over you with each tiny kiss you shared. 

“You got my message the other day, right?”

“Oh- yes I saw something from you. I didn't read it though. Just got so busy, I must have forgotten.” Your stomach flips when Martin's posture slumps ever so slightly. You nearly reach out to comfort him but stop yourself at the last moment. 

“Right, of course.” Martin shifts on his feet, glancing at Atla quietly stacking cones. “I was trying to ask if you had some free time this week. Thought maybe we could do something.” 

You think back on the conversation you just had with Atla. Though she is incredibly mature for her age, you still don't feel right about having anything other than a professional relationship with Martin. “Mar I'm sorry, I can't-”

“Of course, I understand. Just thought I'd try one more time.” Martin smiles softly. The gesture does not reach his eyes. Martin looks so unlike himself, so timid and small, that you scarcely recognize him. “Atla, are you ready søta? It's time we get home, uncle Kieran is coming by to steal your chicken nuggets. We have to get there first or there won't be any left for you!”

“I told uncle Key those were mine!” Atla screeches, stomping over to Martin and grabbing his hand. “Come on pa! We have to go!” 

Neither father nor daughter glance at you as they make their way out. You remain rooted to the spot long after Atla's laughter fades. Cleaning up and locking the door upon your exit are the result of simply going through the motions. Muscle memory takes you home, barely remembering snips of the drive. 

The emptiness in your heart remains long after you have sunk yourself in a warm bath, wine glass in hand. Not red, never a red anymore, because you cannot stand the color. Even a deep merlot reminds you of him, of sharing that bottle in front of his fireplace the first night he’d invited you inside to chat. Neither of you had wanted to leave, though you reminded him that you had to be up early in the morning. 

The pinkish washcloth you run over your arms was once a vibrant cherry red. Even that stings more than you care to admit. More wine, another glass, anything to stave off the tears threatening to fall. Why did you have to say yes to that first date? Why did you cross that line, blurring the boundary between professional and personal?

It takes one more glass of wine before you find yourself reaching for your phone, splattering soapy suds across the tile.

Could we talk? 

[brighterdaysarebeforeus]

Still in Earth 42! I think one, maybe two more parts here and we can move on? (>.<)

@hobiesgender @hadesdaughter2002 @lirulua

Masterlist

Miles came to suddenly and violently.

There were loud calls — some familiar voices, a vaguely familiar Spanish curse — but Miles didn’t pay them any mind. He swiveled his head around, eyes scanning the room quickly as he searched and searched; the longer it took him to find him, though, the more his heart started racing and he panicked, and all he could focus on was a constant mantra of protect I failed protect I failed protectIfailedprotectIfailed —

“Oi.” His head whipped around, his upper body twisting with the motion, and Miles saw Hobie leaning against the wall behind him. He realized, belatedly, that they were back at the run down Visions again, in his dorm room. Hobie had his mask off, and his breathing still looked a little off, and there was still blood on his vest and his Spider suit and — “I said, oi.”

“What.” Miles snapped back. Hobie lifted an eyebrow, and Miles glanced away from him. Everything was still going haywire, and he felt jittery from everything that happened. The soothing scent Hobie was trying to emit wasn’t helping much.

“C’mere, Morales, let’s go.” Hobie pulled him back, and Miles fell into him almost instantly. His calming scent surrounded Miles completely, and he found himself calming in waves. By the time Hobie shifted him upright again, his injury was more or less fully healed (“just some bruising, no need to fret anymore”) and Miles was as calmed as he could be.

Peter B, Gwen, and Peni were sort of pointedly talking about nothing in particular (sort of sounded like they were comparing James Wesleys across the multiverse) with each other, Mayday was trying to hit Margo with the tassels on her hat, and Ham and Noir were (seemingly) focused intently on the conversation in front of them; Prowler!Miles, though, was staring right at them with a furrowed brow; it looked like he was trying to figure out what was happening without outright asking, and wasn’t coming to a conclusion that made sense to him.

“You guys together or something?” He asked bluntly, and Gwen sort of winced at both the question and the way he suddenly broke across their conversation to ask.

“That’s rude!” Peni scolded almost immediately, and Miles-42 stared down at her with wide eyes.

“The heck else am I supposed to think?” His voice was incredulous as he gestured at the two of them with both hands, completely ignoring the way they inched from each other. “They’re all cuddled up together, my clone nearly went insane — speaking of!” He rounded on them again. “What was that back there? In the warehouse? You nearly attacked one of your own people! What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothin’s wrong with him!” Hobie snapped back. “Mind your business, mate.”

“It is my business when it involves my well-being!” Miles-42 snapped. “I had to tase him to get him to stand down. What if it the whole thing ended in a bust? We’d never get a chance at Wesley again, this was basically our only shot!”

“Did we get him?” Miles asked, panic spiking again. He’d been so focused on Hobie, on Hobie getting hurt, that he’d completely forgotten about the whole point of their mission — capturing Wesley to get to Kingpin. His Prowler version glowered darkly at him for a moment, and Miles feared the worst; his heart sinking in his stomach, he said, “we…did get him, didn’t we?”

“We did.” He said slowly. “He’s pretty well trapped. Your girl did well.”

“Hell yeah I did!” Margo cheered. “You got any idea how hard it was to sneak that little piece of tech out of the Spider Society?” She glanced at Miles, lifting her brow. “Miguel is not happy with any of us right now. He’s particularly after you, Miles.”

“Great.” Miles still felt off kilter but he forced himself up, running his hand over his head to try and center himself. He could still hear, in the back of his mind, the conflicting advice about Spider-Man getting back up with each hit and how alphas were supposed to be firm and strong, not staying down for long. Hobie grabbed at his hand, and Miles stopped long enough to meet his eyes.

There was a question there, a question Miles wasn’t entirely sure how to answer, but Hobie let him go after a moment anyway. He stood up as well, stretching his arms out and wincing at the way it cracked his shoulders.

“All right,” he said, “let’s talk to this fucker.”

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Letting out the aggression

I had this thought, and more than likely I'm going to add it to my actual fic as well as put it here, but like, I thought maybe people might like it on here too.

Basis is this: Arthur and the rest of the gang occasionally hold fights in camp, good natured fights, kind of like old timey boxing/WWE stuff, to let off steam, and in this headcannon of mine reader is Arthur's partner, and they watch these fights only to realize just how attractive it is to see Arthur go round with the others in camp.

So sorry if this takes you years to read.

Also apologies if it's not the greatest, it's been a while since I've written for tumblr specifically!

Okay! Let's do this!!

"Alright folks!" You lift your head, looking towards the sound of the voice, it's Dutch, it would be hard to confuse that voice with anyone else's, it boomed like no others.

Furrowing your brow you force yourself off the chair you'd been sitting on and head towards the enterance of Clemmon's Point, toward's Dutch's call. You could already see a lot of camp gathering there, including who had become your beau over the last few months: Arthur Morgan.

Even now, just seeing him, it made your heart flutter. He always looked so good, always took your breath away.

He'd gotten a haircut recently, it was fairly short, almost buzzed, but not quite, and he had that familiar scruff of a beard you'd come to love. He was standing with the others, his hands on his belt, something that he did subconciously.

Seeing him you sped up slightly, wanting to meet up with him.

As you reached the crowd you pushed through to stand near him, offering a smile when he looked at you.

"Hey there Princess," He leaned down and gave you a sweet kiss. "You know what this is about?"

"Nope, I was gonna ask you." You admit. "I figured if anyone would know besides Dutch it'd be you."

"Beats me." He shrugged.

You open your mouth to ask another question when Dutch speaks up again.

"Folks, things have been rough!" He claps his hands together and steps towards the center of the group that had surrounded him. "We have been running still, leaving behind Valentine, I wish we hadn't had too, that town was lovely." He shook his head and looked to the ground.

"But! I have come up with the perfect solution to cheer everyone up, have a little bit of better morale!"

You raise an eyebrow and look to Arthur, who was now wearing a mischiveous smirk, that only seemed to spread as Dutch continued talking.

"It's been a while," He paused, and a smile spread over his lips. "Since we've had a good old fashion brawl!"

The group around you erupts into cheers and you can't help but feel absolutely bewildered.

Arthur is even in good spirits, a loud hearty laugh escapes him and he claps his hands together, before rubbing them as though he was preparing for something.

"Get lined up people, find a partner!" Dutch called. "Hell, I might even join you all this time!"

You turn to face Arthur, who doesn't even seem to recogonize you're standing there, that smile still there.

"Can I be your partner?" You ask, trying to catch his attention with a palm on his arm.

He seemes to snap out of it and look you in the eyes with a quizzical expression.

"No, of course not Sugar." He gave another chuckle. "You gotta cheer me on from the sidelines, 'sides I could never do that to you."

"What...do what to me?"

Arthur snorts and crosses his arms.

"Brawlin' like..." he struggles to explain for a moment, and then snaps his fingers. "Like a bar fight, 'cept just fists, no bottles, or chairs or anythin' like that. It's just for fun, to let off a little steam."

"But... you're gonna get all banged up..." You mutter. You reach up and place a hand on his face. "You're so handsome, be such a shame to get it all messed up."

His face goes red, as it often does when you compliment him, and offers up a very shy chuckle.

"That's why you gotta cheer me on, plus, I think I'm pretty good." He winks, and looks over your shoulder. "I think I'm gonna take on Bill..."

You huff, and roll your eyes, but look to the tables that had been pushed a little closer to the "fighting ring".

You decide you'll join them, and see for yourself just how entertaining it could actually be.

You step on your tiptoes and give him another kiss.

"Alright, go get 'em big guy, I'll be cheering for you."

"Maybe you can cheer for me later tonight too...."

"Shut it and go find your partner."

He snorts and offers a small kiss back before leaving to find his partner.

You moved quickly to join the girls who are already gossiping amongst themselves, making bets on who goes against who and who'd win."

"Oh, John is gonna try and take on Arthur he always does. Though I don't think Arthur's ever accepted, not after he beat him the first time." Abigail sighed.

"How much do you want to bet Micah actually tries to kill someone?"

"Oh I don't doubt it."

"What about Sean," you question, looking to Karen. "Will he fight?"

"Oh he will." She laughes. "He'll be knocked out within the first round."

You laugh yourself only to be smacked gently on the arm by Mary-Beth.

"Shhhh it's starting!"

Hosea, who also seemed to have a permanent smile plastered on his face, stepped into the center of the makeshift arena, and looked around. Your guess was that he was there to referee.

"Alright Gentlemen!" Hosea raised his voice, making himself heard. "Let's have some good old fashioned fun, you know the rules!" He glanced briefly towards John and then towards Arthur. "No biting, no intentional aims to the pecker!"

The crowd around you offers a chuckle, which you yourself join in on.

"Aims to the face are legal!" He continued. "But, they are frowned upon, usually by whoever recieved it!"

He cleared his throat.

"Alright! Our first fighters!" He gestures to oposite sides of the 'arena'. "Lenny Summers, against Sean McGuire!"

The two come out into the center where Hosea stands, each with smiles on their faces.

Hosea steps back and then calls.

"Fight!"

The day is hot, and the fights keep going, you find yourself rather enjoying them, watching as Lenny outsmarted Sean in their fights two to one in their three rounds.

Their fight was followed up by Micah and Charles. Though something about it seemed like it was a bit more of a real fight rather than for fun. Charles beat Micah easily, taking him down in all three rounds.

After those two, John and Javier, which you thought it seemed to be a fairly even match. The two were similar in build and height, and it seemed to be the same when talking about speed as well.

That match seemed to continue forever before John was finally declared the winner.

Each and every match was met with cheers and jokes, the gang had never seemed so lively before.

Next was the fight you'd been waiting for. Arthur and Bill.

Arthur steps into the middle and so does Bill, both have grins to their ears.

Arthur was already preparing himself, getting into a stance, bending his knees and keeping his arms bent at a decent angle, his fists clenched.

Bill was doing the same, though, he didn't seem to be nearly as graceful.

"Alright!" Hosea called. "Final fight before the finalist. And another warning for our own Arthur!" He looked towards the man.

"No biting! No groin kicks!"

"I ain't twelve anymore!" Arthur scoffed. 'Sides, couldn't bite Bill hard enough to hurt him."

The crowd made a resounding "ooooh" in attempts to egg the two on.

"Bring it on Morgan, can't wait to kick your ass."

"Oho...come on big man." Arthur gestured with his hand, unclenching it just for a moment, for Bill to come towards him.

"Alright boys!" Hosea stepped back. "Fight!"

You scoot forward in your seat just slightly, hoping to see Arthur in action. You rarely did, as he did his utmost to prevent you from seeing anything he considered to be bad about himself.

A part of you had always been curious to see if he really was a good fighter, considering everyone always seemed to want him on their jobs for one reason or another.

Bill was the first to make a move, lunging towards Arthur with his left fist, but Arthur was far too quick, and dodged it easily.

"Ooh, come on Bill, you can do better than that," Arthur lowered his voice, taunting with a smug looking smirk on his face. "I hardly felt the wind on that one girly."

Rough and ready and quick with his tongue, that's what Hosea always says.

Bill threw another punch, a right this time which Arthur again dodged, but rather than mouthing off, he sent a punch of his own, uppercutting Bill, hitting him straight in the jaw.

"What the hell!" Bill exclaimed. He cradled his jaw. "You tryna break my mouth Morgan?"

"Aww, you gotta hit a lot harder than that to break a jaw sweetcheeks." Arthur snorted.

Bill seemed to see red, and came at Arthur once more, apparently he'd done something different, because he'd managed to hit Arthur square in the nose.

You scoot even further forward in your chair, doing your best not to gasp.

You swallow and make yourself calm.

"Come on Cowboy!" You call. "You got this Honey!"

"What she said!" Karen adds.

Arthur stands himself tall and wipes his nose on his shirt.

"Now we're talkin'." He mutters.

The two circle each other, and you cannot help but stare. You're entirely enthralled in it, and you believe it's not entirely because of the fight itself.

The look in Arthur's eyes was something that sent shivers through you, so focused, and steely, yet he had a smirk on his face, one you'd often seen in intimate moments with him.

Ontop of that, each remark or insult he threw out he said in such a voice that you could swear he was trying to do something to you. Lowering it the way you liked it, and practically drawling out each sentence with that honey covered tone you loved.

Some of the remarks themselves seemed to be the issues, threats, but yet to you....they didn't feel that way.

Half way through the first round you'd crossed your legs and hoped no one noticed.

"Comd on now....I ain't got all damn day Bill." Arthur huffed. His lip was split open now, along with his bleeding nose, but Bill still looked worse. "I got a woman to please."

"Arthur!"

He does nothing but chuckle at your response.

Arthur takes initiative this time, moving fast for a man his size, and lands a right hook to Bill's side, which causes him to double over, and in turn Arthur grabbed Bill's shoulders and kneed upwards into Bill's chest, sending him backwards.

"Come on Williamson!" Arthur bounced on the balls of his feet, moving from one side to the next. "I ain't felt this good in a damn while, get up!"

Bill waved, from where he laid on the ground.

"I give up..." he coughed. "I ain't doin' another damn round with him, he likes this shit too much."

Arthur chuckled and cracked his knuckles.

"Who's up for finalists?!"

"That's it for these two!" Hosea called. "Arthur wins! Two rounds!"

The group cheered and you watched as Arthur stomps his way to you, still smiling.

As soon as he reaches you he places a hand on your neck, gently squeezing as he crashes his lips to yours.

For a moment you feel the slightest bit embaressed, but that feeling dissipates easily as your stomach begins to tingle the more Arthur squeezes.

The others around you begin to whistle and you can feel the heat rise into your face.

Arthur pulls away from you and drops his hand before leaning next to your ear and placing a hand on your thigh as he lowers his voice.

"I saw you cross over here...gettin' all excited over me fightin'...it gets you hot and bothered don't it Princess...?"

You swallow and shuffle your legs slightly, which only makes his smirk wider.

"Course it does..." He whispers. "I bet when I'm done with these losers you're gonna want it rough ain't you?"

You look at his hands, and even though you know you shouldn't feel the way you do, the fact that his knuckles were already bruising also seemed a bit attractive.

The things those hands could do.

"Yes Arthur..." you manage, your breathing getting the slightest bit faster.

The rest of camp didn't seem to matter to you, though you knew the moment Arthur left you it would.

He was rarely ever so bold in camp.

The fight was all you could chock it up to.

He snorts in your ear and then kisses your jaw.

"Don't you worry about it Darlin'....whole camp'll know who won today when I'm done with ya."

He walks back towards the Arena then, the biggest smile on his face.

"Man, I should have taken him when I had the chance...." Abigail muttered.

"You stay away from him." You mutter. "That man is mine."

You and the other girls keep watching the fights, the finals, went by even quicker than the actual fights.

Lenny vs. Charles, Charles easily won, strength over wit won that one.

Then John vs. Arthur.

That too was a short fight. Arthur had managed to somehow flip John over his shoulder after several decent hits to John's torso, and easily overpowered him.

The absolute final battle.

Arthur vs. Charles.

This fight you weren't sure what to think. The two were fairly evenly matched, both in height, body shape, hell even height.

You watched in awe as the match started.

Arthur was taking his time this round, watching Charles move, waiting for him to swing first.

However, Charles was patient, and he was doing the same.

After a few minutes it seemed that Arthur grew impatient himself and took a swing, only for it to be blocked by Charles's wide arms.

"Come on here Charles." Arthur taunted. "You're a big guy, I'm a big guy, the faster we beat the shit out of each other the sooner I can go fuck Y/N."

"ARTHUR MORGAN!" You call his name, hoping to scold him from the sidelines, but you can't help but shuffle in your seat at the words coming from his mouth.

"Come on Arthur you aren't all that thick in the skull."

"Oho... you'd be surprised Charles."

The two continued to circle, until finally Charles made a move and Arthur swiftly moved, however Charles managed to shoot out the opposite fist, hitting Arthur in the side.

"Sonofavbitch!" He huffed and moved, throwing a punch at him, managing just barely to hit Charles in the stomach, though it was a solid hit, you could hear it.

"You gotta hit harder than that Charles," Arthur chuckled. "I ain't givin' up that easy."

Charles was silent as the two continued, and he began to lash out more, which only seemed to work in Arthur's favor.

The more he lashed out the easier Arthur could block and find his openings.

Quicker than you thought possible Arthur was delievering the final blow to Charles's stomach, and standing tall as the winner.

"That's it!" Hosea called. "The winner, again, is Arthur Morgan!"

The group cheered and whistled as he again stomped his way towards you.

The heat in your cheeks was there before he reached you, and as he did he easily lifted you onto his shoulder despite your very few arguments.

"If you'll excuse me girls, " he offered them a finger gun. "Y/N and I have some business to attend to."

And with that, he hauled you towards his tent, exponging plenty of confidence from his winning of the day.

You knew for a fact you weren't going to walk tomorrow.

[libidomechanica]

“Or root or seemed presence all such efforts fail”

A sonnet sequence

               1

I do not been able, still he lours and beside! Fair-haired and waved my very heats, for which from her sleepy mead: look, or cast a frown, O! I sate with tilt and loathsome carriage. Who won’t let the sea, by the fools! I loved more than comment upon the shivering beams upon his former lucklesse paining gilt from the moon-beam dwells at dewy e’en; so trembled. Or root or seemed presence all such efforts fail. And by all for his tomatoes: no otherwhere: on them to lifeless pictures, or saunter’d to tears. Is far too dangerous for that. The print more, as harbinger of light, slips the kill’d.

               2

Whose cheers their golden arrow within—et caetera. Relenting body so ill, the faded monsters of their tryst. Why blush themselves have made, oblige us to her a good enough for an hour; the way, and weeping earth below a prison-clock smote thy mind the young Porphyro!—Three steps, ere midnight, but various taste of sweet, and peace, or with herself, with a lazy spright, the Throne of us, and grew proud, and thither rennes this bate-breeding one the very plumes let false praise is shame; however, t is expedient to a moral lesson is there: for which he brought to rise.

               3

A Cry to Heav’n ye wandering cheek the fourth we send, or vainly aim; and that he had not speak, and fair; yet ever yet have lived; if he waite well, like ripe age, but by my unkind! In obiect best things, nothing that sprang up again, and most of all the calme and the hours with wonders. Her far, alas! That July 21st place of Death, and o’er my desire sees her spirit guiding. All fleet of flame! And lower panes. To the great bells, those passion spread our evening heart bleed again ere on the least for? Ah, my bonie Jean. On that playes, o how art thou sit and majesty, she puts out a well-pleased.

               4

I will endure the milder air. Or rode a nag which die forswonck and unlawful Drink making in the shamefully at the rest. Bid me discourse to flutes of men. Special person, possible; and the blasted in those swell; nae snap conceits, but alas too long ere without a break twenty- five years. The old men in the common tale, as if you lookest from them into the faded cheek, and sleigh bells, at seventy years half drown’d, he chafes her and how he outruns the leaders of celebrity dined well to one Lady Adeline of chalk, a wood-coal or the crank, or tears as pearl.

               5

I said, The devil was in heat and life was done. But not love which we ceased. Amusing curled like I hold him from grave for cits. In vision of the pouted blossoms. The honey’d middle-aged to meet. Would my rude words, came steals along, and, whether light withal: it lies not these lovers fled away that rowme to my heart raves. Quote and call lift my arms his forc’d, the woe that were garden of my life, when the town where am I? Will be, nor had power of human heare both of these and angling. Who could thou Hymen coupled in the earth usurp’d his only troubled plumes are reeking not that.

               6

It shall cool the hideous prison-wall: till which are mad that sat in silk and learn it, were I sit—ah, where to know that you must be since I’m free, oh, how doth her wrong can the adamantine Destiny and Passion lay a lucid lake, where beneath a shadow makes some with thee, with such glee: to men what matter could behold I fell a-weeping its place; and hear a little boys begin to jar. Hot, faint, life-poisoning pestilence like fire was not sit below. Like a happening thee speaks, as do those who knew not think. And white a friend, will live with foam, until the pine, I thought the lawn.

               7

Both cry Kill, kill! In this cottage; at his truth described the street and from one room in the turn’d Crimson holly-hoaks, among the ignes fatui’ of many cease to sing: that all that hour, and forth music to the embracements which no eyes blaze again I turned, and the tongues: and beauteous comprehensions, there is come, what a pleasant suns, we it is said, Tis now one could say,—who went and garter’d earls, or softly call, soothing fine,—the melodious discovery often are, their strength. But let my tongues will not speak. A kingdom of the seaman, tempests of greene embellish theyr eccho ring.

[lightsiided]

     his efforts to play along with her demands prompt a smile. rey's eyes are bright as she watches him breathe deeply, her expression lightening to something less SERIOUS. this is more like it. thor is more like his old self, like the person she has been yearning for all this time. just being beside him feels incredible. "good," she murmurs. "you bring me peace, too. i love you."

being suddenly lifted into thor's arms surprises a laugh from her. it feels good just to be held, to be so happy again. knowing they'll take a quick trip out of the room together -- that she'll get to feel some semblance of normalcy again -- fortifies her rebuilding strength. playfully, rey kicks her feet back and forth in his arms. "i can stand just fine," she promises. "but you don't have to CONVINCE me to hold you."

rey leans against his side, rubbing her cheek into thor's arm affectionately. now that they understand each other, it feels nice to be doted on. it's NICE that he cares so much, nice that he wants to take care of her. part of her still isn't used to having thor look after her this way -- to having anyone look after her like he does. but thor makes it all seem so effortless, and more than that... rey believes he WANTS TO DO IT.

she lifts her head and smiles at him, cheeks rosy with affection. "well, i don't think there's much variety available. but trust me, i lived for a long time on polystarch bread and cassius tree leaf tea. i'll be alright." it'll be SOME TIME before they feel the effects of the end of the war, she's sure. though it's exciting to realize that nothing but possibility awaits them, now. soon they'll be able to travel the galaxy without fear of capture. they'll be able to explore openly, to see and speak to people they once had to hide from. and she can't wait.

as they navigate the hallway leading from the medbay to the mess, they pass a few people who smile and wave, calling out to them excitedly. glad to see you on your feet, rey, they cheer -- it seems her very presence boosts morale. she smiles back at them as they pass. and at the end of the hall, a familiar whirring of wheels greets them: bb-8 and d-0 race over, spinning excitedly at their feet. "hello, you two," rey greets, squeezing thor's side before gently pulling away enough that she can bend at the waist to draw CLOSER to them. "what sort of trouble are you up to?"

"h-hello," d-0 responds, as rey pats the top of his head. "are you feeling better? i missed you." bb-8 beeps affirmatively, chirping happily from the attention.

"much better," rey smiles. "i've missed you as well. how have you been acclimating, have the others been kind to you?" glancing over her shoulder, she continues, "have you met thor? if ever you're in NEED of me and can't find me, he can help you. he is a very capable warrior, and a trusted companion of mine."

life must go on.  there is still much to be done around the galaxy.  he can’t keep her trapped in a bubble forever.  he knows.  just as he knows her ability to be careful, that she is a force to be reckoned with few could manage to snuff.  it doesn’t ease his worries.  nothing can get to her in here.  he knows she can’t and won’t be held here.  the outside world must see them again.

kissing him and touching him serves to effectively remind him she is here, in his arms.  she lives another day to love him as he needs her to, and he effortlessly returns it.  they are not done with one another yet; so much time and love and joy still awaits them.  thor yearns to watch it all unfold, he does, but the fear— among the strongest he has ever felt— will fade, not vanish in the blink of an eye.  it was so much bigger than himself.  he needs time to let it go.

“we can go,” he agrees, though she doesn’t quite achieve the smile he knows she makes an attempt at.  surely, there is a flicker of appreciation in his chest, adoration.  who could look into that face, be on the receiving end of her care, and not feel terribly smitten?  “i am breathing,” he says anyway, with a lighthearted roll of his eyes, unwinding his arms from her.  as if following a demand, thor exhales, like it is the first breath he’s taken since she’s awoken.  his shoulders roll, his fingers curl & uncurl at his sides.  she is fine.  it is hard, but the worst is over.

she is fine.  he breathes again, closes his eyes, tries to force his mind to settle.  upon opening them, he is nodding, the pain in his face smoothing.

“you do bring me peace.  you bring me peace by merely existing.”  that peace was threatened, but it will return.  it is returning with every word she speaks, every breath, every time their eyes meet.  just as the fear will fade out, the happiness will fade back in.  when he reaches for her again, it isn’t to embrace— though he does steal a quick kiss.  carefully, he angles his arms beneath her to swiftly pull her from her bed and to her feet.  an arm snakes around her, his hand at the small of her back.  the other lightly grips her arm for balance.

“are you alright, to stand alone?”  concern is etched into his face.  likely, it will be there for days or weeks to come.  but he doesn’t await an answer.  “hold onto me,” he instructs, as he guides her arm around his waist.  the first few steps to the door are careful, slow.  pressing a switch on the wall, it slides open for them with a hiss.  most of his attention is on her as they move.

“i hope you plan to eat more than just bread.  you need your strength back.  i don’t believe a piece of bread will sustain you.”

[queridopascal]

*Requests open, makes a b-line for your ask button!*

I have two, but you choose which ever one speaks to you!

Javier / Angst (but happy ending lol) : Fem!Reader works with Javi and has developed FEELINGS for him. She assumes she’s not his type but thinks there might be hope cause he subtly flirts with her. But she catches him on a date 💔 She gets a little tipsy and brave and confesses her feelings to him. It’s revealed he has feelings too.

Frankie / Fluff (maybe a little smut 🔥): Fem!Reader and Frankie have established relationship. Both decide they want to surprise each other with something at their monthly bbq party they throw at their place. She want to tell him pregnant (maybe even surprise the other TF boys that they’ll be uncles at the same time??) and he wants to ask her to marry him. ITS A FULL FLEDGE LOVE FEST!

Do with them as you please if you feel so inclined to. Hope you’re having a wonderful day!!

✨✨✨✨

Hi Heidi! Thank you for this beautiful request. I'm in my Frankie feelings lately, so I chose him (and made it 🔥). Hope you like it 🥰

BBQ Party (Frankie Morales x F!Reader)

Warning: SMUT, 18+, oral sex (f receiving), reference to unprotected sex (p in v), fluff, mention of food and alcohol

JOIN A TAGLIST!

A/N: this has not been proof read, sorry!

The air is humid and hot, the light cotton sheets feel fresh against the sweat slick skin of your bodies. His figure hovers above you, brown eyes glued to your silhouette as he worships you like a Goddess, and he marvels at how perfect and beautiful you look beneath him.

"I love you." he murmurs before capturing your lips with his and cupping one of your breasts, kneading the warm flesh with his fingers.

"Do me, Frankie. Please." you look up at him through your eyelashes, gaze heavy with desire.

How is he supposed to resist when you're looking at him like that?

Frankie wastes no time: his other hand reaches between your thighs and skims gently through your wet folds as a boyish grin spreads across his face. He moves his index finger up and down your slit, watching your face as your mouth drops open in a perfect circle.

His brown eyes are practically glowing, and he meets your gaze for a split second before he starts to lap at your pussy, pushing his tongue inside of you and giving small, kitten licks to your clit.

An excessively loud moan leaves your mouth and he looks up at you, eyebrows shooting high into his forehead as he smiles proudly for the sound he was able to pull out of you.

"Y-you're so good," you whimper, throwing your head back "don't stop, baby."

"Wanna make you cum on my fingers, think you can do that?" he pulls away and waits for your answer, biting his lower lip.

You nod frantically and Frankie takes his time, sliding two of his fingers inside of you, soaked and warm, pumping them, scissoring them and curling them up to graze the spot that has you crying out in pleasure.

He looks at you with a devilish smirk, and goes down on you again, setting the perfect pace and creating a wonderful combination of tongue and fingers. Your hips buck up of their own volition, you are so close and feel like the rope inside of your belly is about to snap.

"Give it to me," he encourages you, pumping faster "come on."

The more he talks, the more you get closer to the edge.

"F-Frankie!" you cry out and come hard, soaking his fingers, his chin and the bedsheets underneath.

He works your trembling body through your orgasm, capturing everything he can with his tongue and humming with satisfaction at how deliciously sweet you taste.

"You still with me, baby?" he mumbles as he kisses his way up to your face, peppering sweet kisses over your stomach and breasts, until he reaches your chin.

You nod, panting uncontrollably, and raise one hand to cup the back of his head so you can finally kiss his lips. His curls are damp with sweat, his tummy feels sticky against your skin, you're surely a mess, but you couldn't care less.

"God, I want you so bad." you declare once your mouths part, and he smiles down at you before kissing you again, hungrily and desperately.

"Gonna fuck you so good, baby," he grunts and positions himself at your entrance, taking his rock hard cock in hand and sliding it up and down your slit "gonna cum in this perfect, tight, wet pussy.”

"Fuck, yes." you let out, still breathless.

"Gonna fill you up, baby." he pushes himself in "Nice and deep."

***

You stare at the four pregnancy tests lined up next to each other on your bed, two pink lines clearly visible on every single one of them.

Frankie had told you plenty of times that he wanted to start a family with you someday, and you would talk about it regularly, wondering what your kids would look like and which traits they would inherit from the both of you.

So when Frankie tells you that it's his turn to organize the BBQ party this month, your heart bursts with joy: what better opportunity to announce your pregnancy?

When Sunday finally arrives, your excitement grows as time goes by. Frankie, on the contrary, looks extremely nervous, running left and right to prepare his grilling workstation with all kinds of meats and seasonings.

You take a moment to look at him, and smile to yourself because he's unconsciously already looking like a dad: beer in his left hand, spatula in his right, baseball cap, sunglasses, flip flops and a hawaiian shirt that looks like it has been stolen from Tom Selleck's wardrobe in Magnum P. I.

As soon as the guys arrive, the party comes alive: they laugh and tell stories, they joke with each other and for a moment, you ask yourself if you really want to tell him now.

"Smells delicious." you whisper as you hug him from behind and rest your chin on his shoulder.

"It's almost ready, babe. Go sit with the boys."

"I have to tell you something, Frankie." you clear your throat and move to stand beside him.

"What, wanna become vegan or something?" he flips over a couple of hamburger patties and turns to you.

"No, silly boy," you slap his forearm "I am…"

"You what?" he cocks an eyebrow at you.

"I am pregnant, Frankie."

His mouth opens, the spatula he was holding drops to the ground and his eyes widen like the ones of a kid in a candy shop.

"Are you serious? Oh my God, are you sure, baby?" he asks frantically as his right hand comes to rest on your tiniest hint of a bump.

"Yes, Frankie. You're gonna be a father!" you smile at him and he hugs you tightly, lifting you up and making you whirl in the air.

"I'M GONNA BE A DAD!" he shouts joyfully as he puts you down, and the guys look at each other with surprise before walking up to you both.

"Hey little one," Frankie kneels down before you and whispers "it's me, your dad. Can you help me ask your mom a little question?"

As if acknowledging the silent answer coming from your belly, Frankie takes a deep breath and looks up at you adoringly, his trembling hands holding a small, red box you're not sure where it came from. He opens it and gulps audibly while the guys cheer him from a few feet away.

"Will you marry me?" he finally asks, brown eyes glittering with hope, love and devotion.

You nod a couple of times, tears streaming down your cheeks and he pulls you closer, kissing you softly as the guys gather around and snap some pictures to capture the moment.

"A toast to the lovebirds and soon to be parents!" Pope proposes as he holds up his beer, clinking it with the guys' and Frankie's.

"And a toast to the uncles!" adds Frankie with a gigantic smile on his face.

You sit down at the table with them, eating, smiling and laughing, knowing that this is a day you'll cherish forever.

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @sleep-tight1 @mssbridgerton @imcalledflorence @withakindheartx @emmy626 @greeneyedblondie44 @myguiltypleasures21 @pedroverse @donnaa @snow30285 @computeringturtle @sugahunnynoicetea @lilpopizzle @hnt-escape @sara-alonso @darnitdraco @larakazzer @carstwirs @agingerindenial @heythere-mel @phoenixhalliwell @tobealostwanderer @radiowallet @evelynseventyr @thatgirlselectryc @princess76179 @hb8301 @jeeperky @jenrebloggingfics @jasterslegacy @kestrelmando @miulola @elegantduckturtle @aana4664 @shadowolf993 @the-wishmonger @serini-ty @mssarahpaulsooonn @janebby @jediknight122 @kirsteng42 @cheekygeek05 @jenacide02 @t3rradactyl @anditsmywholeheart @andiesturgss

FRANKIE TAGLIST: @hunnambabe @writeforfandoms @linnie0119 @shinymoonstarfish @gingib @pedritoispunk @audreyispunk

[goldencherryhazz]

my stress reliever

Sub!h x reader

Warnings: smut, oral (male receiving) fluff and some swearing

A/N: so the grammys are tomorrow and I am not prepared physically or mentally, so I decided to write a little something to calm myself. Its nearly 2am so there’s probably a load of mistakes! Pls don’t copy my work. Hope you enjoy!

It was the night before the Grammys and Harry had to admit he was feeling a bit stressed but even more nervous, he was so grateful for the fact that he would not only be opening the show, but that he had been nominated for not one, not two, but three Grammys.

When he got the phone call from his manager Jeff he was over the moon and y/n was jumping for joy, whilst hugging Harry, he was also pretty sure he saw a couple tears slip down her cheeks. That feeling lasted for weeks, but now with less than 24 hours to go the nerves had definitely set in and he didn’t know how to soothe them and had been basking in his troublesome thought for the past 40 minutes.

Y/n was currently out shopping for some essentials but Harry wanted her to be no where else except in his arms, they had both become a bit clingy towards each other during the pandemic, they had heard lots of couples break up or get divorces, but with Harry touring all over the globe and y/n having to stay put for her own jobs hey were more than happy to spend months on end together.

When he heard the front door open he practically leaped up from his spot on the couch, rounding the corner to the hallway immediately spotting y/n carrying multiple bags, still clad in a coat and woolly hat, her cheeks slightly red from the cold air even though it was nearly half way through March.

‘Hiya baby’ she smiles at him

‘Hi angel, missed you’ he said fumbling with the ends of his fingers.

‘I’ve only been gone about half an hour H’ she chuckled slightly, sensing he wasn’t feeling himself and hadn’t been all day.

‘Wanna come and help me put some shopping away’ she asked starting to take her hat and coat off, before getting a nod of the head in return his shy eyes making contact with hers. She ventured her way through to the kitchen, Harry trailing his way behind her like a lost puppy, starting to feel a bit calmer just due to her presence.

They then started to putting items in their allocated places in their kitchen, working like a dynamic duo somehow knowing wherever the other was at each given moment. Once the last item was put away Harry folds away the bags and puts them in a cupboard to be used another time. He then stands there in front of her, strands of his hair falling into his face in which y/n reaches out to push them back, he nuzzled into the slight touch, craving closeness with his girl. He makes grabby hands towards her in which she immediately complied and crashed into his warm chest wrapping her arms round his shoulders, fingers tangling into his hair. He sighed deeply in contentness but with a hint of worrysome into the crook of her neck ‘what’s going on in that head of yours baby’

‘I’m just worrying about tomorrow’ he speaks honestly ‘there’s just loads of thoughts of what could go wrong running through my head, and I can’t stop them’

‘Well I know that once you get out on that stage you are going to take it and rock the hell out of it, cause that’s just you and no matter how much you doubt yourself I know you are going to be amazing no matter what happens, and I think I can speak for pretty much everyone when I say that, you’re incredible baby no matter if you win a Grammy or not, I don’t really care about a shiny piece of metal I care about you’

‘But what if I mess up the words to the songs, or fall over on stage or something stupid like that’ he rushes out.

‘Your overwhelmed baby, and that’s very understandable because you haven’t really been doing a lot of this stuff cause of the pandemic, you just need to get in the swing of things again, but I’ll be there every step of the way, don’t need to be nervous H I’m here’ she cooed as he wrapped his arms around her tighter.

‘Thankyou angel, I love you, don’t know how much I needed to hear that’ he whispered kissing her neck.

‘I love you too, no need to thank me baby, that’s why I’m here, I’ll always be your moral support. If you want I can stand at the side of the stage with banners and everything,’ she says manoeuvring to grab a tea towel to demonstrate, she starts to swing her hips around, her body going in a circle with her hands in the air that was gripping the towel, whilst cheering ‘go H, go baby, go H, go baby.’ This made Harry laugh, a real laugh immediately lighting up the whole atmosphere. He swore he couldn’t live without this girl, who was dancing around the kitchen and would probably actually do what she was demonstrating on the side of the stage whilst he performed at the Grammys, because she cared about him that much.

‘There’s that smile, missed seeing that on your pretty face today’ she smiled right back at him, glad that he was happy again.

She made her way back to him, hugging him once again placing a kiss to the side of his jaw.

‘Wanna go upstairs and get all snuggy?’ She questioned.

‘Yeah, sounds perfect angel’

‘C’mon then’ grabbing his hand and leading them to their bedroom.

When they were half up the stairs y/n suddenly spins to face him again ‘you know, if your still feeling stressed I can help you even more, pretty sure I could eliminate all of it’

‘And how do you plan on doing that angel’

‘Oh my beautiful boy, the list goes on and on’ she says almost seductively.

They both knew where this was heading so they start to rush more up the stairs, excited to get to the bedroom, and as soon as they are and the door is shut behind them, Harry is pushed so his back was against the door before y/n starts kissing his lips hungrily, biting and sucking hickeys onto his neck making him groan ‘wanna be my baby boy tonight, just want to love you on you, make sure you’re totally stress free, how does that sound baby’

He whimpers at her words he could feel his length harden at her words ‘y-yes angel, want you to take control, wanna be your baby boy’

In turn y/n whimpers feeling her panties get wetter and wetter, she backed him up to the king-size bed, their lip connecting and reconnecting, the head in the room seeming to go up about 10 degrees, Harry loved it when y/n had her way with him, taking control of his pleasure, making him cum so hard he saw stars, he swore she was magical, the fact that he was worrying about every little thing about 20 minutes ago and now not having a care in the world, he could have been in the deepest, darkest whole and she still would be a been able to pull him out.

She turns both their bodies so that Harry’s would be the first to hit the bed, she was kissing him so hard it was making his knees buckle ‘do you want to take your shirt off and lay on the bed for me baby boy’ she says in which he quickly complies, lifting the fabric over his head, to see y/n doing the same taking her bra off at the same time, making him practically drool at the sight of her perky tits just begging to be played with.

He laid on the bed following her instructions, waiting for her to come over to him, and when she did y/n let out a small moan at the sight of his fucked out face and she had barely touched him, she loved it when he was like this, letting her take control when the roles were usually reversed, she just wanted to make him feel as good as he made her feel, which was pretty dam amazing.

She leaned over kissing his lips, her tongue diving into his mouth dancing with his own, she pulled away slowly ‘what do you want me to do to you baby’ she asked already knowing the answer ‘want me to play with you cock’

He whimpered and nods, his doe eyes begging her to do something about the tent in his sweats.

‘Use you words baby, wanna hear you say it’

‘P-please angel, want y-you to play with my cock’

‘Okay baby boy’ she reaches down to the tie on his sweats undoing the bow slowly, almost teasing him making him squirm and moan out ‘please touch me angel, m’starting to ache’ she works quicker getting the trousers off of his legs before throwing them somewhere in the room, then going back to pull his boxers down his long legs, his cock finally springing free from its confines and gently hitting his stomach.

Her eyes went wide at the sight of his cock, the tip an angry shade of red leaking precum, the thick veins more prominent, his balls looking deliciously filled with cum, just ready for a release. She lays between his spread legs, wasting no time in gripping his girthy shaft in her hand making Harry throw his head back and stifle out a load moan, she smiled knowing she was making his feel good with only one touch. ‘Who’s made you this hard baby?’

‘You angel, only you’ he moans as she starts bringing her hand up and down his cock, her thumb swirling over his sensitive tip making him groan every time. She then brings her head down, making eye contact with his green orbs as he lifted his up, her lips encased his tip before going down inch by inch until she was about half way, Harry let out a prolonged moan, loving the feeling of her mouth in him. Y/n brought her head up after a few more seconds gasping for air ‘taste so good baby, can’t wait to taste that cum though’ he whimpered his legs spreading even more to give her more room. When she reattached her lips to his shaft she starts bobbing her head up and down, taking him down her throat aswell, her hand tugging the rest ‘feels so good angel’ he says whilst gathering her hair in a makeshift ponytail.

At this point y/n panties were soaked, she managed to get a little stimulation by grazing her clit on the rough fabric of her jeans, making her hum in delight around his cock. She brings her other hand down to his balls, rolling them in her palm. She then comes off his cock with a pop, taking one of his balls into her mouth instead, changing between the two all whilst tugging his cock.

‘M’gonna cum if you keep doing that’ his legs starting to shake around her

‘Well that was my aim, baby’

‘wanna have you wrapped around me when I cum, please angel’ he whimpered

And with that y/n was already unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them down her legs, because how could she say no to him, her clit was starting to throb aswell, she smiled knowing that it wouldn’t take long for them both to cum, she straddles him bringing her lips to his once again, he grabbed hold of one of her tits massaging it before tweaking her nipple making her whimper into his mouth. She becomes desperate pulling away quickly before gripping his shaft and lining him up with her entrance, sinking down onto him with ease because of how wet she was. They both let out prolonged moans, loving the feeling of being wrapped around each other ‘pussys so fucking tight, s’like you were made for me’ he moans out, ‘think your cock was made for me too baby boy, stretches me out soo good’ placing both hands on his chest, she whimpers slowly lifting herself up before going back down, making a slow pace. They were moaning in unison the only sound in the room, and small whimpers of ‘baby’ and ‘angel.’ y/n brings her hand down to her clit starting to make small circles, knowing she wouldn’t need much to topple over she was amazed at how fast her orgasm was creeping up on her ‘m’gonna cum baby boy, you close’

‘Yes m’so close, your gonna make me cum so hard’ his legs starting to shake again, one of his tell- tale signs.

‘Cum with me baby’ y/n says not holding back anymore, with a few more thrusts and circles to her clit she was cumming, she whimpered the words ‘baby boy’ over and over, that’s when Harry toppled over he felt his cock twitch and with that he was releasing ribbon after ribbon of cum inside of her, he stopped breathing, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, toes curling, legs shaking practically screaming profanities. He felt like he was on cloud nine, he was gasping for air, a faint ringing in his ears.

Y/n leaned down to his chest kissing a few spots, now utterly exhausted ‘you okay baby’

‘Never cum so hard in my life angel, felt incredible’ he breathes out a lazy smile on his face.

She slowly lifted herself off of him, knowing he would be sensitive before laying down beside him ‘thankyou angel’ he whispers to her

‘What for?’ she asks

‘For making me forget all of my worries, for being my stress reliever, probably would have lost it by now if I didn’t have you’ he says sweetly. ‘I don’t know what I do without you either baby’ she says kissing his lips and then pulling his head to her chest, he nuzzled into her, his long arm draping the duvet over them, before gripping onto her waist.

‘Now go to sleep my beautiful three time Grammy nominated boyfriend, you’ve got a big day tomorrow’

[pekotranslates]

Traces of Two Pasts: Episode Tifa - pgs 40-52

Disclaimer: Also, I started this for fun so that my friends who don't have access can read it. I'm just another fan like you. With that said, I do try to be as faithful to the original source material as possible, and for those of you who can read Japanese, please support the author by buying his book.

Not everyone agreed with Chief Zonder's decision. The elderly—a major force in the village—began to make noise. They seemed to take a liking to Zangan's longevity exercises, and regretted not being able to memorize what was taught to them. They wanted someone to check if their poses were correct, and wished to learn the remaining exercises he was supposed to have taught them.

The village chief paid a visit at dinnertime.

"Hey, Tifa..." he said with a sullen expression. "Will you teach the old folks how to do Zangan's exercises properly?"

"Why Tifa?" her father asked. She just knew he would ask.

"Because Zangan named her. Told me that if we ever needed someone to mentor us, Tifa would be qualified. Said that she had the most controlled form* out of everyone who gathered there that day.

Kata, which means “form” in Japanese, is the term used to describe specific sequences of motion that are used to practice technique and execution in martial arts

It pleased her knowing that someone spoke of her like that when not in her presence, but it also caused her to be slightly embarrassed.

"Zonder, don't get my family involved."

"Aw, c'mon! I'm already in big trouble as it is. The old folks just won't let it go!"

"Hmph!" Brian Lockhart snorted. He enjoyed seeing the village chief squirm. She couldn't tell whether or not they actually got along with each other.

"Tifa, what do you think?"

"I'd just be teaching the elderly people those exercises, right? If that's all there is, then I'd like to try."

"Tifa..." her father began, but he swallowed back his complaint. He knew that it wasn't good for her to have too much time on her hands. "Well, if you're gonna do it, then do it right."

While preparing breakfast, Tifa heard a knock at the door, and opened to a woman’s face she barely recognized. It was an elderly woman called "Mon Amie" who was an aunt of sorts to Chief Zonder. Her hair was pulled back into a bun so tight that it looked like her eyes were being pulled straight up!

"Good morning to you. It's been a long time, Tifa. I heard that Zonder told you all about it. How about 2 gil per hour?"

"Sorry?" She had not heard about any renumeration.

"Well, you are thirteen now. Not a little girl anymore, so that doesn't cut it for you, eh? Alright then, how about 4 gil?"

"No, I don't want any money."

"That won't do. We are taking this very seriously, and you will be properly paid for your work."

No matter how much Zangan trusted her, would she really be up to the task? But, being able to earn her own money sounded very appealing, as if a whole new world had opened up to her.

Mon Amie took Tifa's silence as her wanting to bargain for higher wages.

"6 gil."

"Alright. 6 gil it is then."

"Brian never did leave the village. He wanted to keep Thea all to himself." Mon Amie suddenly brought up her parents during their exercise routine at the public square.

"Really?" said Tifa, adjusting Mon Amie's arm posture. She needed to get her to straighten her back and push out her chest a bit more for the desired result.

"She was quite the popular one, that child."

It wasn’t very pleasant hearing her mother being called "that child", yet Tifa encouraged her. Listening to the elderly tell old stories was a part of her job. The responsibility she felt from receiving wages tempered her patience.

"You should leave the village," said Mon Amie suddenly. "Doesn't it sound like fun going around to different places with Master Zangan?"

"It sure does."

"Alright, you don't have to play along with me. No need for you to learn things like that. Just think about it carefully, okay? Something needs to change for women here in Nibelheim."

Tifa silently nodded as she propped up Mon Amie's arm.

"There weren't any women around in my day who held this kind of thinking. But that Strife girl”—she was speaking of Cloud's mother—"tried to leave. Not sure if it's because she hated it here, or if she dreamed of going to the big city."

Mon Amie abruptly altered her pose, ruining her base form.

"To the traditional Nibelheim women, she seemed pretty unconventional. We all refused to accept her ways, but secretly felt the same. Even though we scolded her, deep down inside we were cheering her on. We even felt jealous of her for carving out her own path. Perhaps she changed something in us, little by little.”

Tifa lifted up Mon Amie's knee. "Up high like this. Thank you."

She supported Mon Amie as the woman’s body rocked back and forth.

"But Claudia remained in the village, didn't she?" said Tifa.

"Well, that’s because she fell in love. You see, a man traveled here. Claudia was helping out at the inn at the time. She must have been taken in by the outside air he brought with him. And he was a pretty fellow. I’m sure you see it when you look at Cloud. That boy got the best of both his parents!”

“Right…”

“But, just like the wind, he just couldn’t keep still. Not sure if Cloud learned how to walk yet, but around that time he told her he would go to the mountains, but never came back. They found his belongings though. His body probably got eaten by monsters. You were lucky you didn’t meet the same fate.”

Tifa braced herself. Was she going to bring up that incident?

“Cloud egging you on to climb Mt. Nibel… Maybe that was in his blood.”

Mon Amie’s body began to sway. Tifa had stopped holding onto her causing her to lose her balance. She couldn’t regain her footing in time, and fell flat down on her backside.

“Alright then," said Tifa. "Now let’s use the opposite leg. Please lift up your knee.”

Tifa held out a helping hand to her, but Mon Amie refused and got up on her own.

“Quite strict for a pretty face.”

“That’s because I get paid 6 gil to be.”

Before long, she became more attentive. She noticed Mon Amie lifting up her other knee, but it was at the wrong height again. While Tifa helped her to adjust, Mon Amie said, “You really don’t remember anything? You know, about that accident you got into?”

She was eight years old when she got into that accident on Mt. Nibel. Cloud was with her. The villagers chose to believe the story based on Emilio and the others’ testimonies, and nothing else could be said about it. Tifa really couldn't remember what happened.

"No, unfortunately not..."

Whether the elderly came to her for exercising or just to chat, it was tougher than she had imagined. Her father laughed at her and said he wouldn't have anything to do with them, even for 100 gil.

They never listened and were set in their ways, even the ones who kept away and smiled modestly at her. They just had a different view on things, and sulked if nobody paid them attention.

The topics they discussed also surprised Tifa, and sometimes hurt her too. She disliked whenever they brought up how her body looked so grown. There would be someone who sensed her discomfort or resentment, and would try to change the subject, but then it would turn into whom she should be with and things of that nature.

So, all things considered, Tifa preferred hearing them going on about herself rather than her father’s failed romances, or whom her mother used to hang out with before she got married to him. To the elderly townsfolk, her father and others his age were still “the village youth”.

After her day finished and she was about to go to sleep, she thought to herself that maybe there would be a time when she would be the one telling someone else about what happened today, or about some news she heard from another person. Telling the same stories over and over again, everyday just like the next, until she, herself, became just a relic of an era in village history.

※

“They confused me at first, but I got used to being around them, and then it wasn’t so bad anymore. That feeling of wanting someone to talk to—Everyone has that,” explained Tifa.

“So that’s where you learned to entertain guests? From spending your time talking to old folks?” asked Barret.

“Possibly. Maybe that did me good. More and more of the elderly signed up, and they started calling their morning gatherings the ‘Calisthenics Club’.”

“It’s like that at Seventh Heaven too,” said Barret with some intensity.

Aerith urged him to talk.

“It used to be just a small shop owned by this one gramps, but when Tifa started working there, the business picked up. Men crowded the place. Know what I mean, Red?”

“What I’m more interested in is what happened to Zangan afterward? I can sort of imagine based on your fighting style, Tifa...” said Red XIII.

“You’re right. There was a little more that happened before I got to where I'm at.”

※

A month passed after the start of the Calisthenics Club. All morning Tifa would teach the exercises and set aside time for her reading and arithmetic. The afternoon she'd go to the mountains and work hard towards building up her strength and stamina, and then would return home before sunset so her father wouldn’t worry. At night she would examine Zangan's writings and practice her form, reviewing the materials over and over again so as to not overlook anything.

One day, she received a letter from Emilio. He wrote about the fast-paced lifestyle in the big city, and told her about everything he found perplexing: arguments he had had with people, things he ate, the social inequality, and their differences in moral values.

“But whenever I get discouraged, it’s you I think about, Tifa, and then I imagine that day when I’ll come and get you. I'll write to you sometimes and teach you about the city, so you won't be so confused when that time comes.”

Who do you think you are? That's how she honestly felt reading the letter.

Zangan appeared, acting as if nothing had happened. He knocked on the door just in time to greet her father and asked for his permission to call Tifa out, and then led her to the river where they first met.

“Master Zangan, please let me be your student. I want to be stronger.”

“That’s exactly the answer I was looking for, but what’s the matter, Tifa? I sense your impatience. Why are you in such a hurry?”

“That’s not it!” she replied, but felt self-conscious. “No… It’s because I got that letter from my friend.”

“What kind of letter?”

“I think it’s because I don’t want to lose. I don’t want to lose to anyone who left the village.”

“Hmm. My hand-to-hand combat techniques are not meant to be used to make you feel superior to others.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. But the answer to that can only be found through diligent study. All right. I will acknowledge you if you pass my test.”

“Test?”

“Show me everything you’ve learned from Volume 1. You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

Tifa performed a sequence of forms from the physical training method.

“One more time, from the beginning.”

“Okay.”

This time Zangan interrupted with instructions.

"Check the book to see the direction your palms should be facing."

Tifa crouched down over the book and flipped through the pages. The form was wrong from the very start. Should have been above not below.

“I was wrong.”

“Try again.”

When she extended both hands and slightly shifted the direction of her palms, she felt a different set of muscles tingling.

“Everything from the Book of Secrets must be obeyed. Don’t try to interpret it another way or decide that your way is better. While disciplining your body, you must learn to be faithful to your decisions. If I take you in as my student, you will become stronger. So, you must cultivate your mind to control that power. The greater and stronger the power to handle, the greater the responsibility of its owner. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

The second time around, Zangan pointed out any minor mistakes she made. Each time she would have to go back and confirm with the Book of Secrets before advancing, which made things take twice as long. Fatigue built up in her arms and legs.

“Alright, now relax and close your eyes. Focus your attention and check the condition of your body. Does it hurt anywhere?”

“My upper back… I wouldn’t say it hurts but it feels like it’s burning...”

She slipped her right hand underneath her left armpit until it touched the lower part of her shoulder blade. Digging her fingers into it felt good.

“Hmph!” Zangan gave a satisfying nod. “That’s your shoulder blade. What you’re pressing into is the trapezius muscle. Surrounding it is your deltoid, infraspinatus, psoas minor and other muscles. The second volume will teach you how to train each one of those muscles on your back,” he said, while holding out a booklet to her. It was Volume 2.

“If you want to live your life with pride then pay close attention to your back. Squeeze your shoulder blades together, chest out. Walking through life with a beautiful posture is also part of your training.”

“Got it.”

“Let’s get started. Well then, onto Volume 2, No. 2-1-1, scapular push-ups.”

Zangan immediately prostrated himself on the ground, and lowered his chest. Tifa hastened to follow his example.

“All you're doing is supporting your whole body with your arms. Concentrate on your shoulder blades. Rotate them outwards—protract, retract, protract.”

It was her first time experiencing those movements. How was she supposed to move to protract her shoulder blades? She couldn’t picture it in her mind. Glancing over at Zangan she noticed he was rotating his shoulders outward, something her cat, Maru, often did.

“You look like a cat,” she said.

“Right. There’s a lot we can learn from cats.”

She focused her attention on her scapula, going up and down, until the repetition of movements were drilled into her body. Zangan rose and watched over Tifa for some time before clearing his throat.

“Good!”

The movements were subtle but still made her perspire.

“That’s because the muscles across your back are wider. Moving them increases the blood flow and raises your temperature, so that’s why you’re working up a sweat.”

After completing Volume 2, Tifa was sweating profusely. She felt unthinkable pain throughout her whole back.

“Alright, any questions? If you do, now’s your chance.”

She wanted to say, yes, but nothing came to mind at the moment.

“If not, then we’ll move onto Volume 3.”

“Huh?” she couldn’t help but shout. Her whole body was screaming in pain. Zangan ignored her and continued.

“Volume 3 is for chest and abs. We’re going to train your front body. The pectoralis major muscle is roughly divided into three parts: upper, middle and lower. There are several different ways to effectively train it, but I’ll teach you the basic concepts.”

“Alright…”

“At your age, your overall motor skills are complete, and in that regard, you excel. You haven’t had any special training, have you? If so, then you must have been born with this. Treasure it.”

“I will.”

She felt energy pour into her body. Perhaps listening to Zangan talk with a relaxed mind helped her to recover from fatigue.

“After a while, we’ll concentrate on building your muscles. But you will not be using any equipment except your body. We won’t be using barbells or dumbbells until you’re much older. Besides, our Zangan-ryu hardly finds them necessary. That is because I prescribe individual fighting styles that suit each of my students. You don’t need arms built like logs or a bulky chest. What you need is to build up a fighting style that will utilize those reflexes, that body, and your speed. Well, what do you want to do? Shall we call it a day?”

“No. Please go on.”

She didn’t want to disappoint the first person who had managed to earn her respect.

“Yes, that’s the spirit! Alright. But we’ll stop here for today. Let’s call this current level of fatigue your limit. Keep it in mind. You have a long way before you can try to challenge that limit to surpass it. Continuity is more important now than ever.”

On their way back, a realization came over Tifa regarding Zangan’s test. It didn't annoy her. If her father tried to make her work like that she’d probably stop talking to him for three days in a row. With those thoughts in mind, she walked her teacher back to the inn.

“Say hello to your father for me.”

As she stood in front of her house she could smell the scent of spices in the air. Spices that her mother liked to use in her best recipe. It was her father’s favorite dish, but since Tifa didn’t really like it, it was hardly ever served at the dining table.

She opened the door and said, “I’m home.”

“Welcome back.” Her father, dressed in an apron, peeked out at her from the kitchen.

“This smell… Huh? Is it mom’s?”

“I was really craving it... Oh, but I made something else for you.”

She was filled with remorse. She didn’t like the way he looked or the tone of voice he used when trying to gauge her mood, but it was all her fault for making it that way.

Novel by Kazushige Nojima

Translated by pekotranslates

Proofread by Eerie

[matchamorphosis]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 | ღ | 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || what seems to be a normal rich summer morning with the women who lives across the honeysuckle boulevard from his cottage lies something else. a buttery rich feeling that spreads deep within Bucky’s heart as he takes his neighbor, alongside Alpine to the farmers market for coffee.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || fluffy fluff! ➳ part one

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || retired!bucky barnes × neighbor![black//woc]reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 3K ➳ 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 || @firefly-graphics

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || if you think long walks with bucky and alpine in the sunny countryside are warnings then so be it but there is lots of food mentioned. ღ also reader owns a flower shop, not a warning thought just some info!

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 || this version of cherry wine by hozier ღ this version of mystery of love by sufjan stevens ღ

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || eeeeep!!! so this is my first bucky with alpine fluff and i’m very glad to have it be the first for my fluffy mini series that i’m doing for this month! ღ I don’t describe reader too much throughout the story but what is clear is that I don’t specify on skin tone but yes the person in the moodboard is a woc! ღ anyways I hope you cherubs enjoy reading! ღ

+ p.s || do not repost, republish or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or steal my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡  

it was a lavish affair when Bucky found himself tangled with you in the bed of a million perennial petals.

clothing falling and bodies twisting themselves against each other in not lust but emotional apprehension. the soft petals of rose, carnation and violet keep pouring like blissful rain, entangling in his hair and in the crooks of your body.

enough to suffocate but enough to make him feel enveloped in the fantasy- the divination of you you you and only you.

for you are butterscotch benevolence that he will let pool like ambrosial nectar in the cavernous hollows of his collarbones. your tears of seventh heaven euphoria trickling onto his skin forming constellations- like the paint speckles on the forlonged artists canvas of his naked soul.

you are honey sunlight oozing from the basin of the candy floss sky, lacing with the shedding petals that continue to powder in their divine scent and morality. his fine pink sheets soft and silky as the rose petals of Heliogabalus, he’d sigh in heavenly pleasure to be buried alive in petals if she was drunk of the love he has for her.

he sees her playing, singing, dancing and bringing her virtuous spring song deep within the glossy shine of her honey hive eyes. love seeping in the melancholy streams leaking through the old creeky floorboards of his home and straight into the chambers of his heart.

so promising yet so grandeur as he feels his chest warm with her very touch, the ivory bow encased in the virtuous flowers of her emblem garden in his hands- he’d think that he was Cupid but oh how he’s been struck by his own arrow in great surprise. straight into the once extravagant chamber of his heart.

the spiraling golden arrow destined to pierce and rip through the tender muscle of breast to the beating vessel that writes a tragic tale of eternal ravishment in the movements of lyrical beats. muttering with languor-glazed lips, he’d keep her love like a an old locket against his chest for it’s what reminds him of home whenever he feels the cold element on his skin.

there are pieces of you scattered in the wonderous arteries of his heart.

nestled in the folds of the beating muscle, take heed.

for that is his home.

y/n is his perennial feelings left unsaid, exquisite pain yet ethereal serenity. his soft bed of roses and his deadly golden arrow, all meant to give his heart hope.

that he was- however it seems the bed of roses and all the lovely elements it holds have come to a staggering pause.

now as the sun hits the past super soldiers eyelids that dream of flower petals and the heavenly vision of you disappear. they flutter open to meet the single stream of sunlight that has slipped past the slit of the sheer bedroom curtains. brightening up the somewhat clustered space of the room with its single golden string.

Bucky sighs in defeat, this is the fifth dream he’s had of you in a month and he was barely pushing past the second week of May. before he didn’t mind the dreams, they calmed his mind while he layed in slumber during the thunderstorms of April but now they were resilient. it wasn’t no regular thing to dream about the women across the boulevard in the haven of flower fields and maple trees.

Bucky knew this but he couldn’t help but not treat these dreams sweetly. they were the definition of sweet torture, you never hurt him in those dreams as he did to himself but it was a pain to know that you probably don’t think of him the same way. for goodness sake ever since he and Alpine moved the only interactions he had with the maiden were just acknowledgments as they passed each other on their daily errands.

he shouldn't be this infatuated with someone who he's only met.

the soft hum of a purr finally awakens Bucky, his cats paw brushing against the half covered skin of his fleshed bicep. it takes a pat or two to make Bucky open his eyes to find Alpines blue hues staring back at his and he gives his furry friend a crooked smile. a chorus of meows welcoming him to another sunny morning in the peaceful and harmonious countryside.

“morning pal, ya slept well?” Bucky smiles as he lazily lifts his hand to scratch the right spot behind Alpines ear.

stretching out of bed till his feet touch the cool wood flooring, following the simple path from the bedroom to the kitchen he pours Alpine his dish of cream and gets started on his own breakfast. whisking hen eggs his neighbors from afar gifted him the day before and toasting the freshly baked loaves of bread he bought specially from the market yesterday.

Bucky normally didn’t take any gifts from anyone, he wasn’t that type of person to feel comfortable with those sort of things but as the days gone by the cheerfulness of the communities welcoming energy towards him has soften his doubt.

eating his simple breakfast paired with coffee, Bucky bites into his buttery egg toast whilst quickly scribbling down his to-do list for the day. of course there isn’t any tasks that the hundred and ten year old man has to get done but there were things that Bucky did look forward to ever since he settled in a month ago. the country was a lovely peacefulness he had forgotten about ever since he was a boy.

traveling to his grandparents farm away from the city for memorable childhood summers in the sun and fields. turning his head to meet the white linen sheets that draped over the kitchen panels, Bucky can see the herd of brown and black spotted cows from the distance. tapping the pencil against the shiny polish of the kitchen table he bites his lip on what else to add on.

his head lifts up to see through the other window that casts its lovely light against his paper. blue eyes meeting the toffee cobblestone path that led to her cottage, hidden amongst the shrubbery of acorn trees and flower budded bushes. hearing from lots of locals in the cobblestone village near the sparkling sea that she owns a little orchard of peach and cherry trees, a few strawberry patches amongst the vegetation.

it made sense why he sometimes finds a large wooden basket of those ruby fruits at his doorstep from time to time. a card inviting him over for some tea that he would agree to yet he would always call you the next day a stuttering mess canceling it over some important errands. nonetheless it made Bucky's heart swell how understanding you were, sweet just like the ripe fruits you pluck for him on Sundays.

Bucky would make copplers and sometimes pies out of them and if he wasn't so scared of the possibility of being too attracted to you he'd head over to your place so he and him would eat them in your gazebo. but of course he can't do everything his heart implores him to do. was it bad to want to get to know you and imagine what it would be like to befriend you?

maybe do lots more than just befriend you...

sometimes he would find a glimpse of your form in the distance as he headed for the lake neat the lavender fields up north to fish something for dinner. humming while you cared for your flowers, singing to them as you danced along the vintage radio. Bucky could see himself singing and dancing alongside you. caring for your precious tulips, primroses and other beautiful flowers that you sold.

those pretty flowers sweet and divine just as her lips and voice when the two first met, when he arrived in the too expensive car that stood out amongst the scenery. arms occupied with bouquets upon bouquets of trimmed flowers that practically shielded her face, his body ran straight into yours when he got out of his car. flower petals falling with the impact and him apologizing one thing led to another and he helped her with her bouquets all while being stricken when he got a clear look at her.

a clear look at you.

lovely in your sundress that flowed beautifully against your bodies soft planes, there was something about the sparkle in your eyes that made him start to stutter. something about you that made his heart bloom in a recherché flower he still can’t understand because he can still hear the velvety tone of your voice speaking your own name when giving each other’s your introduction.

from there on out a glowing ember of clustered stars burned in the pit of his belly when you spoke his name and he spoke yours. it was soft and innocent as the flowers in your arms but the introduction was cut off far too short for Bucky's liking but he promised you a coffee when he was completely settled in. having to do something so he could see you again cause oh how he wishes to hear you speak his name again and again and again till the flowers sprout, bloom and decay with each coming season.

maybe he should pay you a visit and bring up that coffee...

the music from the radio filling the bright cottage kitchen sweetly alongside the birds singing their song outside. Alpine takes his seat across from him, yawning over the new day that brings nothing but lazy laps and baked fish treats. forking a few honey drizzled raspberries in his mouth, Bucky walks to the front door and just in time the daily paper plops down on his feet from the passing paper boy whipping through the grassy roads on the shiny steel of a ringing bicycle.

bending down to retrieve the newspaper, he passes through the sidewalk of petunias and violets till he reaches his mailbox. the wood creaky and the metal rusty but the daisies that sprinted around the opening was a pretty site to see before Bucky grimaced at people from the outside world wanting to invade his privacy. grabbing the letters before smelling the sweet daisies, Bucky looks through the letters one by one. ripping some that had no use for to be used as fire food for his fireplace, grunting that even though he’s away from the tabloids and cameras there are still people eager enough to want something from him.

a soft voice from the distance pulls him out of his annoyance, it makes his eyes lift from his dreaded mail to the women a mile away singing her song as she reaches her mailbox. Bucky can’t help but look at her from afar; and maybe Alpine knows this to as he watch his lovesick owner admire the maiden from the kitchen windowsill.

with some obscene fortune he notices you checking your mailbox as well. heart pacing in his chest, he wishes he didn’t go outside before showering and at least brushing his hair for your waving to him from the distance.

“hello hello Bucky!” your sweet voice exclaims and it just adds onto the heaven that is the morning it makes his cheek hurt from how much he’s smiling.

“hello hello to you y/n. how is the shop coming along?” Bucky shouts and his heart sinks when you wave him over to you.

despite his mind telling him to not pursue closer his heart makes him walk his way to you standing next to your Valentine shaped mailbox. his worries slipping away when there's a underlying comfort in your posture and aura, alluring like the bees are to the flowers. welcoming and warm and he can't help but feel that way every time he's near you.

speaking of you, its reassuring to also know he wasn't the only one to wear pajama's out since your still in your blue silk nightgown. matching silk slippers adorning your feet, you sip from your tea cup as you read what he believes to be a Cosmopolitan.

“it’s coming along great, thank you! a bit slow the first week but that’s how any business starts but I just received my tenth loyal customer and i’m more than certain i’ll be selling lots of flowers today.” you spoke as you smiled to yourself then up at him.

checking your mail, Bucky’s surprised that you have quite a handful of letters and boxes. all written in lovely cursive and packaged nicely, almost like love letters and gifts. it makes Bucky’s heat sink, knowing that he might not be the only one who’s fallen head over heels for you. by all means you probably have the whole village under a spell with just the way you smile alone but he wants to see that smile the most.

he wants to be the reason for that smile.

“that’s sounds wonderful y/n, maybe I could stop by and pick a pretty bouquet or two," you only smile wider upon those words and much to his excitement you even brush your hand against his.

"oh really? have a special someone in your life who needs some loving?" you perk as you open an envelop but the question makes Bucky's throat dry on how he should answer.

you seem like the type of maiden who loves an honest man- yes, he should be honest.

"well... there is this one special lady." Bucky lingers and that makes you snap your attention away from the letters in your hands. voice dying in your throat at those words and heart beat hitting pause.

"I always thought Alpine was gonna be the only one to get to my soft spot- we sleep in the same bed together," he stops to laugh a bit, rubbing the back of neck with his metal arm and you laugh along with him.

"how is Alpine? i'm noticing he's getting into a routine with sleeping in my chamomile beds in the afternoon," you smile and bring your tiny tea cup to your lips. "would you care for a cup Bucky? this just so happens to be chamomile,"

"Alpine is doing good and thank you for bringing that up I was beginning to wonder where that rascal has been leaving for. will have an important talk to him once I get home and- I was going to ask you something," Bucky speaks while admiring how your thick lashes curtain your honey hive hues as you sip the steaming golden liquid.

no one should look that beautiful just drinking tea yet here he is, breathless on the simple action. if he truly wanted a cup he'd wish to drink from your tiny cup, to press his lips upon the porcelain rim where yours once brushed against. drink the sweet sunshine to experience the closest thing to your honey kiss...

"don't worry it's alright! I love looking over at him when I have tea at the back patio, he's quite a lovely guest. very well mannered, and yes Bucky is there anything I can help you with?" you cannot deny that your heart is practically skipping beats in your chest, fast and lively like the flutter of a butterfly wing.

Bucky runs his fingers through his hair, for someone who has done the simple thing of asking someone out for couple hundreds of times a hundred years ago from now it’s a disappointment that he’s lost his touch. however you don’t seem to notice or care but that doesn't mean he should give up. not when you're right here glowing in your morning dew radiance, anticipating the next words to slip past those lips.

it's now or never.

"h-how do you feel about that coffee I promised? today? I have a few errands to run in town and I was wondering if you would accompany me- on my errands... if that doesn't bother you,” Bucky rambles to a stop and he's thankful you're still smiling that closed lip grin against the porcelain of the cup.

"yes Bucky I would love that! there's a coffee cart near the shop I work at but what about your lady? she wouldn't mind us going out for coffee, would she?" you speak as you gather your letters in your arms. glancing up at Bucky to receive some conformation and Bucky bites his lips.

"I don't think she'll mind. in fact... I think she would love me to go out once in a while. I have a habit of only going out when necessary, coffee with you wouldn't hurt,"

"that's perfect, i'll see you at twelve then Bucky. you can help me open shop to," you smiled and Bucky returned an even warmer one back.

filling your heart with a rush of liason, like a tea cup filling with tea. something meant to be full and warm, embraced with someone's touch and lips as they drank each fluttering honey glazed sensation they have for one other.

something that seems to be happening right now before they break their strong eye contact, wiry- crooked smiles still embellishing their sun-freckled faces.

you wish you could kisses each one off his clean shaven cheeks right now, slightly rosy but oh how it would feel like peach skin against your lips.

Bucky wishes to kiss yours, the shine of your lips the form of heart shaped clouds and he just can't seem to get his head out of the amorous blue you cast him into.

"i'll be seeing you in an hour Bucky," you draw before walking away with a cheeky wink, your eyes still locking with his before you get to the rosy sunflower porch.

"and i'll be waiting for you doll,"

♡♡♡ thank you for reading part one! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this join my taglist to be notified of my future works! ♡♡♡

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[hauntedfalcon]

living in midnight

for day four of Nile Freeman Week: "Nile & Struggle" plus a fantasy AU in which superheroes exist, Nile isn't one of them, and she doesn't let that stop her. 1700 words, rated M for swearing. content warning for wounds and needles because it's Nile's turn for sapphic patching up, as a treat

the title is from Lianne La Havas’s “Midnight”. many thanks to @flightsofwonder for beta reading <3

read on AO3 or below

Nile opens her eyes to see an unfamiliar ceiling. There is an unfamiliar pillow under her head, and she is recumbent on an unfamiliar sofa. Above it is a window, where streetlights reflect in the sinuous trails of raindrops.

Rain. Knives. Three attackers. She fought like hell, might have broken someone’s arm, but they landed one good hit. They left her for dead in an alley. She watched her own blood run into a puddle.

She bolts upright--and hisses when a wave of agony breaks over her, starting in her abdomen and shooting everywhere.

“Please don’t move,” says a softly accented voice. “You’re safe here. I haven’t seen your face.”

Nile collapses back down to the pillow and touches her face, just to be sure. Her mask is still in place. She drops her hand and forces one eye open, blurry with pained tears, to get a look at whoever dragged her in from the alley.

A white woman. Dark shoulder-length hair. Youngish, maybe Nile’s age. Dressed all in black, much like her--not for stealth but for soft goth vibes. Cute, if she’s honest, but this isn’t the fucking singles bar, get it together Freeman.

“I staunched the bleeding,” her rescuer says, “but I was waiting until you were conscious to do the stitches.”

“Do we have to?” Nile groans before she can stop herself.

A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile. “I’m afraid so. Would you like some fortitude?” The amateur surgeon holds out a bottle of Everclear.

Ugh. Nile takes the cap off and drinks deep, leaving enough in the bottle to sterilize whatever needs to be sterilized. It tastes like ass and lingers at the back of her throat.

Before the alcohol can set in and obliterate her senses, she says, “Can I borrow your phone?”

The woman hesitates. Very wise of her.

“Listen,” Nile says. “We had two leads come in at the same time. Al-Tayyib took one and I took the other, and mine was a decoy, which means...” She can’t, won’t, say it aloud. She hates how feeble she sounds. “I just have to check in with him. Please.”

The woman hands her a smartphone, unlocked. Nile hits the keycode to make the call anonymous, then dials Joe’s shitty flip phone from memory. He keeps it on silent when he’s on the rounds, and he’ll only answer if he’s safe.

Pick up, she wills him, because if she has to hear his stupid cheerful voicemail greeting now of all times, she’s going to scream right in front of this poor woman who didn’t ask for any of this drama in her life. Pick up, pick up, pick--

“Pronto.”

Nile’s gut tightens (painfully, but that’s not what matters right now) at the sound of another unfamiliar voice. The assassin. Joe walked into a trap.

“Where is he?” she demands, trying to sound hard and not like she’s lying on a stranger’s couch with an open wound.

A gust in the speaker. Is he laughing at her? She strains to hear anything that would give away their location: traffic, a clock tower, machinery, anything. There’s nothing else. No hint of Joe yelling in the background, either.

“I will return him to you presently,” says the asshole. Very formal.

“What, after you shank him like your goons did to me?”

“They were instructed not to kill you,” he says in a voice that wouldn’t fog a window in January. “Did you die?”

White-hot rage flares out of her with no place to go. “Where is he, you son of a--” But he has already hung up on her.

Nile resists the urge to growl. If this was her phone she would throw it against the wall. Instead she quickly deletes the record of the outgoing call, and hands the phone back to the woman, who pockets it. “Thank you,” she says tightly.

“I’m sorry to say so,” says the woman as she holds the tip of a curved needle in a candle flame, “but you are in no condition to save anyone right now.”

She blows out a sigh in answer. When she pulls the hem of her shirt up and peels away the medical tape and bandage pad, she discovers that the woman is absolutely right. This isn’t the worst Nile has been hurt and still fought, but it is pretty bad.

And it’s one thing to trash a gang of traffickers while she’s actively bleeding. It’s something totally different to track down a guy who has been three steps ahead of them this whole time, and seems to have removed his sense of morals with an ice cream scoop.

There’s only one thing left to do: say a silent prayer. The way she learned to pray feels insufficiently casual for the circumstances; she wishes she knew more about the format of the rakat. All she remembers is, “God hears the one who praises him,” so she starts on the Lord’s Prayer because praise comes before petition.

In place of, “Give us this day our daily bread,” she substitutes, “Get Joe out of this with his head,” and then she has to hold back a giggle at the rhyme. She must have lost a lot of blood.

The woman wipes the needle down with Everclear. “You know, I met the old Guardian too.”

Nile eyes her carefully. She won’t say Andy’s name in this woman’s presence. She won’t say Joe’s name either, much less her own. She won’t slip no matter how much blood she’s lost or how strong the alcohol is or how fundamentally good and trustworthy this woman seems or how much this is going to hurt. “Not under the same conditions,” she presumes.

“Very similar,” the woman says with another fleeting smile. “I hope she’s well?”

“She’s good,” Nile hastens to reassure her. “She retired.” And she left Nile her nom de guerre and all the weight that went with it.

“I’m glad she made it that long.”

“Probably thanks to you,” Nile says, and she gets a longer smile for it.

Then the needle bites into her skin and Nile whimpers softly and throws an arm over her eyes. She’s hard. She’s tough. This is what she does.

The woman’s gloved hand pinches the wound closed as she stitches. She works quickly, professionally. “I’m really glad you found me,” Nile manages. “I can’t exactly go to a hospital.”

“I think you would be surprised,” the woman says. “You are well loved in this city. People would protect your identity.”

That’s not it. Nile can’t go to hospital because there’s a chance her mom would be on shift, and the only thing worse than keeping her alter ego secret from her mom is the idea that she would find out because Nile came in on a gurney. She can’t do that to her.

A tug, as she ties the thread off, and then a snip of the shears. Nile lifts her head and looks down at a slightly puckered, neatly stitched, no longer bleeding knife wound.

Her laugh sounds brittle, just this side of hysterical. The woman glances at her. “I have work tomorrow,” Nile says weakly.

The woman tapes a fresh bandage over the wound. “Me too.”

No rest for the righteous. “The struggle is real, huh? Sorry for keeping you up late.”

“I will call in if you do,” the woman offers.

But going into the office in the morning might be the soonest opportunity to make sure Joe is okay. Nile pulls her shirt down and zips her bomber jacket over it. “I should go.”

The woman sets one hand on Nile’s arm. “Please stay. You shouldn’t be out alone tonight.”

“They might have been watching when you brought me inside,” Nile warns.

“Then I will need your protection, won’t I?” the woman says without blinking, as if she’s not the one that just saved Nile’s whole life.

Nile cracks an incredulous smile but the woman just gazes at her solemnly.

“Okay,” she says at last. “Okay, I’ll stay. Thank you. And I’m sorry for bleeding on your couch.”

It’s not enough, but the woman just sets about cleaning up her supplies. Nile settles back against the pillow and wills her muscles to unclench.

“May I ask,” the woman asks as she washes her hands, “why you do this? You don’t have superpowers.”

No, and none of the people who do have taken this city under their protection. Flippant, lazy answers parade through Nile’s mind, because she’s not in a charitable mood. Anger issues. No one else is gonna do it. I’m a giant masochist, actually.

But when she opens her mouth, the first thing that comes out is Andy’s answer, from when Nile asked her years ago. “Because there are people worth fighting for.”

Then Joe’s answer: “People who won’t get justice any other way.”

And, finally, one that’s all hers. “I have a responsibility. This is my city”

She’s going to pass out any minute, but beneath her fatigue there’s still a live coal of the feelings that made her put this mask on in the first place. This is her damn city. She spends so much time in the guts of its shitty justice system, and the rest of the time punching assholes, that she sometimes forgets her city is full of ordinary, decent people. Good people. People who will bring someone in from the rain. People like…

“What’s your name?” Nile asks, and then catches herself. “I can’t--give you mine. Sorry. It might be safer if I don’t know yours.”

“Celeste,” says the woman.

Good people like Celeste. How comforting that is.

Her pain is down to an ache instead of a burn, and her eyes drift closed. In the morning, she’ll be out of Celeste’s hair. She’ll shower at her apartment, carefully, and she’ll go into Legal Aid, and Joe will be there, a little banged up but alive. He’ll hug her, quick and tight, and they’ll loiter by the coffee maker and speak in low voices and sort out their next play. And when the work day is over, they’ll go with Andy and Quỳnh down to Booker’s for drinks and darts, and Nile will order a bouquet of flowers sent to Celeste’s apartment in thanks. Everything, for given quantities of everything, will be fine.

Confident in her safety, secure in her purpose, Nile rests.

[physicalturian]

[G] Gentle summer - Rengoku Kyojuro x GN!Reader - Part 8

[Contains spoilers from the movie, and the manga] [No pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18]

Words : 8662

Archive of our own

Warning : mention of suicide (follows the manga, you might know which one) mention of fear of dying

— Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

On the morning following the moving night I had with Rengoku, we had to wake up early to train but managed to have breakfast together. Everything seemed different and yet, nothing had changed. Everyone around us was still training, diligently so, never stopping until they would fall exhausted on the ground. People would come and go from the place to get ready under different Pillars than those who had stayed at the Butterfly estate. Rengoku and I were the starting point of the training, we were the ones to get everyone slowly acclimated to the fighting, but it was only a matter of time before they were sent to coach under Uzui to better their stamina. Oh, and the look of pure horror on their faces when they would return from those days of training, face long and muscles sore.

Those who would train with Gyomei were too far away to return to this estate and would stay at a nearby place, along with recruits that would train with Mitsuri. More traumatized trainees would come back from Obanai’s training, their gaze devoid of any emotions as they’d shiver at the mere mention of the Pillar in question. I had heard his method was drastic to say the least, mortifying if I listened to those who would return to the mansion at the end of the day. On the first day I had returned, I realized that this was no simple training; something was at stake, they had to improve, they hadto get better by the end of this or they would not last a fight with Muzan and his remaining henchmen.

Coming back to reality, I looked at Rengoku and asked with a bit of worry laced in my voice, “Is there a reason why the training is so intense this year? I thought Pillars were only supposed to train those who would inherit their will?” I had asked, seated right next to a very awake man while I was still half-sleep, shivers running through my body from the cold of having left the futon only minutes ago. “Ah yes! Well, to start, if we defeat Muzan, there will be no need for Pillars anymore.” He said with a big smile, my heart clenched in my chest at the mention of the famous demon we had been training to defeat for too long already. “Why, yes… But it seems like some very intense training. Not that I mind, we could all use some, but it also seems a lot different.” I replied, observing the recruits outside. “At the swordsmith village, something unbelievable happened, we are trying to reproduce that.” He hummed, focusing on his food, still smiling.

Nudging Rengoku’s elbow, I gestured for him to explain. Realizing he had forgotten to continue, he nodded, took my hand and scooted closer, his knee touching mine as he proceeded to explain all about the mark they had discovered; how Tanjirou had been the first one among them on which it had appeared, followed by Muichiro and Mitsuri. He added that when they returned from the village they had a meeting, but he could not attend it due to the state he was in; he was told they had decided to reproduce the conditions in which the mark appeared. “Giyuu told me young Tokito was the only one who was able to properly explain what had happened.” He said happily while taking another bite of his food—as he did so, his hand slid to my thigh and he absent-mindedly caressed it. “Young Tanjirou and Mitsuri lacked a way with words, and I heard it angered Sanemi, but they still managed to agree unanimously on the course of action to take, which was to work hard to reproduce those conditions.” He finished, nodding to himself.

Kyojuro tried to recall what else was important to say, but I interrupted him by leaning over, my hands resting on his opposite thigh while I looked in the court in shock. “Kyo- Kyo-” I hit his knee a few times, “The demon girl is in the sun! She shouldn’t-“ Sprinting out of the room, I crossed the veranda and rushed to her side. My bare feet hit the pebbles and grass full force, making me wince at each step. Upon reaching her side quicker than I expected, I took off my haori in panic and threw it on her. Both girls that accompanied her looked in confusion and waited a moment, so did I as I tried to catch my breath. “Get her back inside! Why are you letting her-“ Smiling in the most adorable way, the demon girl said my name and lifted the haori from her head to grin, “Thank you!” She seemed to be stammering, clearly struggling to speak but she continued, “I can walk—in the sun.” She pointed at the sky, in case I hadn’t understood her.

I stood there in awe and hesitantly removed the haori from her form, still frowning in confusion. Not knowing what to say, I stood in front of her, unmoving; she did not seem bothered and waited for me to ask anything or to leave, she was patient. “How?” I let out under my breath, my gaze never leaving her. Never in my years as a slayer had I seen this happen, it could change so much.

A hand on my shoulder startled me, a gasp leaving my lips. I recognized the feeling of the hand before turning around to look at the person. Rengoku slid his hand to rest it on my waist and pulled me closer, smiling. “Nezuko can now walk in the sun, she sacrificed herself for the village and for some reason, well…” He explained confidently, gesturing at her smiling face that he mirrored gladly. The two girls accompanying Nezuko tried to usher her away, but before leaving, the miraculous demon girl grabbed my hand and bowed, thanking me again before leaving. I smiled, unsure and embarrassed at my actions then bid her goodbye. “It does not make sense…” I muttered.

It made Rengoku laugh fully while he guided us back inside, “Do not worry, I do not understand either. I am simply very happy that young Tanjirou’s sister is getting better. His will to find a remedy to her condition is doing miracles, is it not?” He asked, his eyes ever so wide and bright. Staring back at him, for a moment I forgot what we were talking about and simply got lost in his beautiful eyes; I couldn’t help myself from cradling his face and kissing his cheek lovingly. “I missed your laugh, and your smile.” He beamed, flustered and happy, and cradled my face back to kiss my lips with just as much love, if not more. “So did I, my love. That does not mean I will go easy on you when we are training the recruits.” He winked before kissing my forehead and sitting back down to finish eating.

Once we were done eating, we went to train the recruits. It was good to be distracted for most of the day, only doing what your body told you to, which was to fight back. Since none of the present recruits of Rengoku’s had been able to hit him, he told them that if they could land a hit on me, he'd give them a chance to strike him. They were fueled up for some reason, probably thinking it would be easy, but I did not have that teacher aura Kyojuro had. I felt no regrets in tackling them to the ground when they did not think and would act rashly. It made their determination falter each time, only Rengoku’s words could cheer them up, “Come on, get up and fight!” he would say, or even, “Don’t back down in front of an obstacle! They hinder your path to toughen you up, stand tall and try again!” He indeed had a way with words and was the only reason the trainees still had hope, he kept their morale up. I admired him for doing so much for all of us.

I made sure to talk about it to him on that evening when we had eaten and were now walking outside under the stars, just like our first evening. “Kyo?” He perked up at his name, his hand tightening around mine with a hum echoing from his throat inquisitively. “Thank you, for being…” cheerful? Hopeful? Determined? Optimistic to a fault? “You. For being you. You are probably the sole reason those recruits think there is hope.” I said confidently, making him huff a laugh. He brought me closer, his steps slowly coming to a stop as he pulled me against him, his back now resting against the wall. “We are all working hard, every Pillar has hope we will make it through. Give them some credit, my dearest.” He said with a beautiful smile. I felt my cheeks heat up and shook my head, “I suppose you are right, I have yet to see them train them,” I started, placing my hand on the fabric on his chest where he delicately slid it under his kimono and onto his chest, a stupid smile adorning his features.

Ignoring his playfulness, I added, “I was talking to myself. Hearing you be so determined is getting to me, in more ways than one but mostly…” I trailed off, my eyes meeting his again. I removed the patch from his left eye and looked at both of them, smiling. “It seems you have managed to give me hope, and I cannot say it does not scare me.” Blinking in surprise, his eyes widened before glimmering with pure happiness. His hands that were resting on my lower back brought me in a tight hug that I returned in no time, “Fear is inevitable, but we have to work with it not against it. If it paralyzes you, find someone that will push you to take that one step, if it makes you lose your determination, find someone that will lend you their strength. And if it makes you lose yourself, then I’ll find you without failing.” He whispered, only I was meant to hear this, it was not a secret of any sort but that intimacy we had was not to be shared with the world. It was him and I, at this very moment it was just us, no one else around, we were alone together.

Wrapping my arms tighter around him, I felt my heart soar in reassurance and pure fear, a mix I could not get rid of no matter how hard I tried. Each passing moment spent with him made this entire fight scarier, I dreaded losing him, but I could not doubt his skills, and hearing him talk like that made me believe. “That way with words never disappears, does it…” I mumbled jokingly against his chest, the rumble of his laugh sending warmth coursing through my body. “Well, I would not want to lose it if we were to pair up to be great entertainers once this is all over.” He beamed; the idea I had thrown at him the night prior seemed to have stuck in his head. All while caressing my back, Kyojuro continued, slowly lowering us to sit on the parquet outside. “Since we both agree I am good with words, here are a few suggestions of very affectionate names you can call me,” His tone was light and humorous, but I knew he wanted to be called something and not just Kyo like I had found myself in the habit of doing a lot recently.

“My love seems to be obvious enough, dear and dearest are definitely agreeable,” He nodded, pondering for more, I looked up from kneeling between his legs and felt my lips curl into a smile as he continued, “My heart, definitely love that one-“ Seeing my face, his expression was suddenly flustered, and he continued a bit more quickly, “I do not mind if you prefer to call me Kyo! I am simply throwing ideas-“ “Sunshine?” I cut him off, grinning. “Would that be alright? After all, you are like the sun, warm, bright and your smile does brighten my day. I would say it is suitable.”

He turned shy, for a moment I had rendered him mute. The first time I had a very silent Rengoku in front of me was on that beautiful gentle summer night with his gaze locked on mine. The smile on his face was growing silently as he looked at me with an emotion I could not quite decipher, but he got himself together fast and leaned over enthusiastically, making me lean back in surprise, his face was now almost touching mine, “I love it. I love you, I love your idea, say it again!” he breathed a small “please” without ever looking away. Knowing that I had all his attention, I could not help but feel my body heat up, there was no reason to feel embarrassed, but I still suddenly felt awkward. “Sunshine, would you please kiss me?” I said softly, not wanting to wake everyone up. We were outside and seeing where we had walked, I believe we were outside Uzui’s room.

Clasping his hands on my cheeks, he kissed me once, twice, three times, then kissed my forehead, my cheekbones, I had to stop him. “Enough, enough, sunshine-“ “Say it again, louder! It is such a sweet name, I do not believe I will ever get enough of it, say it again.” He pressed in such a cute way, his hands wandering to mine as he helped me stand up while doing it himself. Chuckling, I shook my head and whispered back, “No, we should head back and get some sleep. I would not want to wake everyone up.” I said with another huffed laugh when his expression fell and he pouted innocently, it left his face when Uzui slid his door open and gave us an angry look, “I’m not in the mood to hear you two be cute and shit, go the fuck to sleep.” His speech was slurred, his hair disheveled, he looked different, but he clearly sounded like his usual self, grumpy and scolding.

Laughing, Rengoku nodded and bowed him goodnight before pushing him back inside and closing the door, he did not miss the opportunity to say a bit louder and playfully, teasingly, “What a grumpy old man, no wonder he retired-“ “I will gut you, Ren!” Uzui’s grumble echoed when the door slid open brusquely before we rushed back to our room, stupid giggles muffled in our mouths as we tried to keep in it while running. We held back until we reached the bedroom where we burst out laughing, I had to shush Kyojuro seeing how his face was turning redder from laughter, he fell to his knees still laughing. I knelt in front of him and covered his mouth, still chuckling myself, albeit more discreetly. “Stop, you are impossible— breathe through your nose you foolish man.” I told him with a smile, shaking my head when he wasn’t stopping. I waited for him to calm down to free his mouth and see how out of breath he was from his fit of laughter.

“Feeling impish tonight, are we?” I asked when he had calmed down and was now sitting properly in front of me. With a beautiful, childish smile, he nodded, “He interrupted our moment, I do believe some payback was due.” He said jokingly before leading us to the futons we had placed next to one another to have enough space for the two of us. “Well, I could have done without running more after such a long day, you are lucky you have a pretty face. It must have saved you from a lot of trouble during your childhood.” I said lightly. Bringing my pillow next to Rengoku’s, I settled comfortably; for a moment I hesitated laying my hand on his stomach to cuddle up to him, he grabbed my hand and placed it on him wordlessly and replied, “If you like my pretty face, you should see Senjurou’s! He is the cutest little brother—he would like to become a swordsman!” “Like his big brother? It is understandable, you must be quite the role model.”

There was a short pause, “He likes to help people, and I suppose all he has known is my father and I being swordsmen… However, I believe he would make a great healer, I wish he could see things my way.” Humming pensively, I pondered his words, perhaps just as he was. Senjurou probably wanted to take down demons, that’s all he has heard his entire life so I said, “If we take down Muzan, there will be no need for him to learn swordsmanship.” The hand resting on my waist gripped it even tighter when Rengoku turned his face to look at me from an odd angle, I could see his smile even like that. “You are right!” he muttered it again, then added, “We will change things, no matter what.” He said, determined. I held back my darker thoughts, not liking the words he had spoken. I knew him, his will and his determination knew no bounds, I was aware he was ready to sacrifice his life if it meant winning, and that is the exact reason why I did not want to think about it.

If the opportunity to sacrifice himself does not show, he will not die… I will make sure of that.

We talked more about Senjurou afterwards, falling asleep quite fast.

After that first day, a routine had settled. In the morning we would wake up at ungodly hours and have a peaceful breakfast—or as peaceful as it can be with the older Shinazugawa brother yelling at his pupils. Once we were done, we would go to the open court and see some of our recruits going to train with a different Pillar once they had reached the goal set for them. It was nice to be busy the entire day, it cleared the mind somehow by filling it with tasks easy to manage. Breaks were given during training, it allowed me to spend some relaxing time with Kyojuro. It would not always be quiet, recruits would sometimes come in and ask questions, forcing us to be more discreet in our display of affection to not make them feel awkward. A few times I was the one called away from training, by the Pillars that were already here at the mansion to try to have me awaken the mark, each time was in vain.

The time I had been told that someone had come to visit and I had to bring her to Master Ubuyashiki was the first time I had seen her and got caught off guard when I understood she was a demon. I had to walk with her alone through the forest to reach the estate in which the Master was resting. He had decided to lay far away from us, to keep the worry away. My guard was back up quite quickly, but I greeted her nonetheless and brought her to the room of the young Master. I had never seen the state he was in until now, it broke my heart to see him so incapacitated; his condition had worsened, and I knew from my gut’s feeling that he would not last long. Both the demon woman—I later learned her name was Tamayo—and I were conveyed to come nearer. Following the Master’s orders, we shuffled closer and sat by his side. He had said my name first, taking my hand in his and smiling kindly. I could not see his eyes because they were bandaged, but I knew how kind his eyes were, how gentle the young man was, and I felt it in how warm his hands were.

“I can feel your uncertainty my child, your aura is disturbed. So is your heart?” It felt like a déjà-vu to hear someone mention my troubled aura. The man depended on more than his eyesight to read people, just like Gyomei did, but I was always amazed at how good he was at it. Glancing at Tamayo, I felt a bit shy having this conversation with Master Ubuyashiki with her there, but I hummed, “Do not trouble yourself, I am more than focused on training and fighting, I will not falter on the battlefield.” I stated, determined. His delicate laugh echoed, it slowly turned into a cough; Nichika, who had been by his side the entire time, helped him sit up and handed him a handkerchief. Drinking some water after his coughing fit seemed to have helped a bit, at least enough for him to smile kindly and say, “Reliable as always. Perhaps you should be focused on getting your mind off things? I am certain someone would be more than willing to help distract you…” He trailed off playfully.

Feeling my cheeks heat up, I gave him a look of surprise, knowing full well he was being mischievous on purpose. My delayed response made him smile. “Young Master, I am sure you have more important things to do than worry about my... romantic affairs." I replied diplomatically, still at loss as to why he would mention Rengoku. The blind man chuckled once more, “I have important matters to attend to, indeed, however I care about the wellbeing of all my children.” He explained, ever so caring. I took a moment to ponder, perhaps too long since he added on a humorous note that had an underlying serious tone, “Would you indulge in a dying man's curiosity?” Gasping silently, I felt a knot form in my throat and held back from saying “You are not dying” out of despair. He was, we had been told since the very beginning he would not live long, but being reminded of it truly stomped my mood for a short moment.

“Hopefully I’ll satisfy your curiosity enough to bring you back.” I said playfully, albeit sadly too. He would not want us to treat him differently, and he was very close to us in age after all; I was allowed to be slightly playful. With that, I proceeded to tell him about everything. Tamayo even partook in the conversation; I was surprised to see how kind she was and how knowledgeable too. Calling the both of us together was odd, but seeing how the Master and Tamayo got along I suppose he needed some company. At first that was what I thought, yes, until he dismissed me once we were done, and his expression turned more stern when he looked back at Tamayo. She was the important matter he had to attend to, she had an important part to play in this fight and he had to make sure she was ready.

After that meeting, I returned to my lover and tried to distract my darkening mind. I had a hard time getting rid of the negative thoughts that plagued it, but being with him helped; it was easier to forget about everything when he started gushing about Tanjirou’s prowess in training, he was passing all the tests at an incredible speed which amazed more than one.

That was added to the routine, I could never emphasize enough how much I needed those relaxing moments in the evening when we would talk absent-mindedly about everything and anything as if everything was normal. As if an inevitable death was not coming, as if we were sure we had a tomorrow after the final fight.

Days went by fast; the routine was only broken a few times. One time when one of the swordsmiths had made its way to the estate with a well-wrapped sword in hand, I rushed to their side and knew from the determined steps and the mask who it was. “Hotaru, to what do we owe the pleasure of-“ “What else but a sword? I can’t believe how easy it is for all of you to ruin the beautiful swords we make. Do you not realize the amount of time put into making those beauties!?” He grumbled, as usual. Ignoring his complaints, I offered to bring the sword to the one who needed it, but he pulled back and said he would do it himself, adding “There is no way your brute hands are touching this masterpiece, get me the Fire Pillar, he’s the birdbrain who broke his sword.” Tilting my head to the side, I tried to recollect when it could have happened and felt very defensive suddenly. “I do believe that birdbrain took the most damage when your village got attacked, did he not?” I stood tall in front of the strong man, knowing full well he could take me down too, but I did not budge.

“Are you a guard dog or something? Just get me the Fire Pillar—you know what, I’ll get him myself.” He pushed me aside to try and find Rengoku himself; instead, both of us bumped into the man in question when I tried to grab him to stop him from walking away. An annoyed sound escaped Hotaru, he was very close to throwing a fit when he saw the man in front of him, his posture straightening as he bowed and handed the sword with his arms extended in front of him. “Do not break it this time.” He simply said. Kyojuro met that remark with laughter, he was careful in removing the cloth and grabbing it before skillfully twirling it around once he had stepped back. “It is so much lighter! Thank you so much-“ “Don’t be sweet, look at the hilt, you better thank me for that.” Doing as he was told, Rengoku paid attention to the hilt that I now noticed had changed. It was still a vibrant color, but it was a different shape.

Hotaru handed the old hilt to Rengoku, “I kept it since you seem like the sentimental type-“ the grumpy man was interrupted by the lion-like man’s tight hug after he had sheathed his sword away. The entire interaction was painful to see, the swordsmith had to push away from Rengoku’s tight hug with brute force; even if I could not see his face, I felt like he did not mind, if he had he would have beaten the blond up. “Do you know how hard it was to make that hilt?”

I interrupted, “A poppy? It seems simple enough.” “Oh, it’s not hard, but when the wounded, half-asleep idiot,” He smacked Rengoku on the top of the head, making the younger man wince, “...who requested it only described it as the red one, the flower at the top of the hill, well, it makes the entire process harder.” Upon hearing his words, I met Kyojuro’s gaze and felt my cheeks heat up, but I held back from speaking. Hotaru did not. His eyes jumped from my lover to me, at least that is what I think they were doing since all I could see was his face going from the Fire Pillar to me, “I’ll be taking my leave,” he said awkwardly, all the anger having left his voice suddenly. He grabbed Ren by the collar and brought him close to whisper something I could not hear before bowing and bidding us farewell.

Once he was gone, I joined Rengoku’s side and asked, “Why did you choose a poppy?” I had a feeling I knew why, yet I could not bring myself to assume it was about me. “Why do you think, songbird?” a stupid smile made its way to my lips, I knew it, but I could not stop it. Nor could I stop myself from touching the hilt of the sword, taking a good look at it instead of looking at Kyojuro. “It is the flower you gave me at the fireworks-“ “The first flower, I plan on giving you many more! But you are very correct.” He said happily, tilting my head up to look at him before kissing me softly. I kissed him back longingly then broke the kiss, my hands having slipped to his shoulders without me realizing it. “It is a coincidence too, but the meaning of poppies is dreams, luxury, and other things too. But the most important thing is!” He grinned and leaned over, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, “That you are a dream come true and definitely all I can dream of.”

He pecked my cheek gently, looking at me with the proudest expression that had ever crossed his face. “Smugness is a fine look on you, I have yet to decide if it was smooth or corny.” I smirked, bumping his shoulder with mine to signal we should return to the recruits who had not stopped working. Looking at Rengoku who was now walking behind me, I thought all the sweet things he would do or say made me swoon without exception. It was all those small things that made me want to have all of him. I held back of course, as hard as it was, but it was good practice to act more… civilized, instead of displaying affection openly in front of everyone.

Time went on as usual afterwards, the trainees were improving greatly. Not all of them had the same pace, some were slower and others, like Tanjirou and Inosuke, surprised all of us with the speed at which they were improving. I found some resemblance between Genya’s and Tanjirou’s mindset, not exactly the same but something similar at least. I had not talked enough with Inosuke to understand what his motive was, but I knew both Genya and Tanjirou wanted to protect the one they loved. The birthmark boy was determined to find a cure for his sister, while Genya was dead set on proving Sanemi he was worthy. It always pained me to see how Sanemi treated his brother, even after the many attempts the latter did to show he was not useless.

As if I had manifested it, while walking back to the room I shared with Rengoku, I was thrown on the ground when a body hit mine. I let out a grunt, but did not have time to complain before the body moved from my form, and I was able to move the door that had been kicked from its position and had landed on the ground. The soft voice of Tanjirou then echoed, “Stop this!” What is going on? I thought as I observed without interrupting, stepping back to let them talk. Listening more, it seemed like Sanemi was using brute force once again to make Genya understand he should leave the corps. There was no need for me to interrupt, seeing how Tanjirou was defending Genya beautifully, but while his words were deep and meaningful, Sanemi did not do emotional.

He did violence. It’s all he knew. And it showed when the brunette’s words reached him enough to annoy him, his usual frown was deepened into a scowl. Only seconds after, he was grabbing him by the throat and lifting him from the ground. “I’ll incapacitate you first, if not him.” He gritted through his teeth; I saw Zenitsu grab Genya’s hand before running away with him while the recruits around stared in shock. I was the first one to stand up, they followed my motion and jumped on him to stop him from attacking Tanjirou; there was nothing much he could do against all the recruits, so he let go of the brunette. Once the latter was out of sight, I ordered all the trainees to leave and was left with a seething Sanemi. Without wasting much time, I dropped my haori and tied my sleeves out of the way. “You utter moron, when will you learn that it is not the proper way to express your affection to your brother?” I spat.

He scoffed, pulling out his sword—I did the same; it was different than the training in the dojo because this time he was filled with ire. “What affection? I don’t have a brother.” “Then why do you care if he is in the corps?” I asked, frowning. He ran at me with full speed and as usual, a dance ensued. Dodging, slashing, dodging, kicking, those were the steps, the tempo was set erratically by his thoughtless actions, completely letting the frustration lead. “You’re always so fucking nosy, let me deal with my shit.” He grunted; I had a hard time believing his constant nonchalance. If I took a good look at him, I could see the worry painted in his eyes, how he hated the choices his brother made, how he wished he could do something. But being unable to do anything made him react in the most idiotic ways.

“It stops being your shit the moment you start harming the people you’re supposed to train, understood?” I said sternly. His gaze turned into a mocking one as he slashed my way again, “I don’t see how that’s your problem, you’re not a Pillar, you’re not that great at fighting, you’re nothing, you have nothing to do-“ “Oh, I did not know we were going down the petty road.” I stated before blocking his hit, I tried to grip his hand and open it to make him drop his sword, but he held tight and scoffed. I continued, “You are being so reckless and immature. It is surprising, even coming from you.” His words echoed in the back of my head, but I fought them by wording more positive thoughts out loud, with a scoff, “I thought it above you to use your status as a show of power, do you not realize I am still standing even after all your attacks?” Those were the wrong words to speak. His stance changed drastically, I quickly understood he was serious now and not just letting the steam out.

There was no helping the nervous giggle that escaped my lips. He was not thinking at all, he was blinded by rage he had built up on his own, he was running at me like a fool, clearly not caring if he got hit by my sword. The best thing I could do was twirl my sword around so that the hilt would hit him instead of the blade. Only seconds after, upon impact I was thrown to the ground. The tip of his sword was grazing my throat, I did not dare breathe. “Shut your fucking mouth, fuck you’re annoying, can’t you keep your head down and-“ “Sanemi, my friend, it’s enough.” The grey-haired man did not glance at the voice that was heard, I did not dare look either in fear he would act during that split second and kill me or perhaps because I just wanted to keep an eye on him.

“Drop the sword, my friend.” Rengoku’s gentle yet stern voice reached my ears again, I knew he would not let me get hurt but I also wanted to yell at him for trying to talk sense into the fool that had a blade at my throat. Sanemi’s response was to grin wider, I did not have time to see that smile widen into a manic laugh that he was kicked off of me. I was fast to sit up and crawl backwards to the veranda to let them fight. The Wind Pillar stood up fast, his expression thrilled, “Rengoku, get the fuck out of my way. Your diplomatic fuck needs to learn when to-“ he was cut off by the Fire Pillar punching him in the face and bringing him down by hooking his foot around the angry man’s ankle. “Watch your mouth, the girls are watching!” His tone was light, but his expression, from what I could see on the side, was dead serious. I saw from the corner of my eyes Kiyo, Naho and Sumi peeking from behind the wall, ever so worried. Returning my eyes to the men in front of me, I scooted to stand in front of the girls in case they decided to continue fighting.

The ginger gripped the wild man’s collar and lifted him from the ground, his smile disappearing slowly as he leaned in, “You made two mistakes, the first one was attacking your brother, your blood, the boy who is trying so hard to be worthy for you. What kind of role model are you? Do you not realize the luck you have to have him by your side? Fix this, or you will regret it.” He spoke from experience, not that he had a bad relationship with his brother, but he missed him, and I knew he was working hard to be the best role model for Senjurou. Rengoku was a man keen on bonds, on keeping good relationships with people and never in his life would he let things get this bad with his brother. I could read it in his eyes how angry he was at Sanemi for acting like this. Sanemi kept his mouth shut, which was a step forward to calming him down since he was now listening, “The second was fighting dishonorably.” He spat before letting go of Sanemi's collar and gesturing for him to follow, “Let’s finish this somewhere else. Only then will you return to your recruits.” It was not a suggestion.

Watching them leave, I did not say anything. I started thinking of how to thank him for having my back, but as I thought so, Rengoku called my name, getting my attention, “Do not forget our recruits! Get up and go train them, I will join you shortly, my love.” He winked with his usual grin, my face suddenly felt hot at the name he had used in front of so many people, it made him laugh. While the girls patted my shoulders, telling me to get up, I saw Rengoku hit the back of Sanemi’s head while they walked towards the forest. How quick were they to get friendly again? I suppose Ren had that effect on people, he was calming to be around and forgiving too, it was hard to feel bad around him.

That fight was quickly forgotten, everyone had other things to think about. Most of the recruits thought it was usual for the Wind Pillar to be mad like that and were not even disturbed. Only the other Pillars and Tanjirou’s little clique knew what had truly happened and that Sanemi and Genya were in fact brothers. It was not an information everyone needed to know, hence it was kept for very few people to know.

The countdown until the fight with Muzan was going; in the blink of an eye, we had reached the day before the fight. It was not a day of festivities, we had all agreed on winning and only then would we be celebrating. We were fully aware that we would not all be there by the end of it, but none of us would mention it. It was an unspoken fact, one that wandered about, weighing the air we breathed, making everything more glum. No matter how hard we tried, we were aware of it, even if it was just in the back of our minds while we waited for the time to leave the estate and head to the territory before sundown.

It was hard not to think about it, people were playing games, others had gone to sleep the day away. I found myself walking about the estate in the late afternoon, not knowing what to do and overheard a discussion I knew I should not have heard. Perhaps getting caught off guard at the mention of Shinobu killing herself was what made me let my stealth down. My name was called by the delicate, strained voice of Kocho telling me to come in. I had to take a moment to calm down and slithered inside, my mouth shut tight when I felt a wave of sadness rush over my body. She proceeded to explain the strategy she had in mind to kill the demon that had killed Kanae, her sister. I paid attention, trying to find a fault in her strategy, trying to find anything to convince her to change her mind but it made sense. She knew what she was doing, she was determined, I hated it, I felt heavy in my chest. She taught me a lot, she was not my closest friend but we were close enough for me to feel this pain.

At the end of her explanation, she smiled at Kanao and dismissed her. I was about to follow when she told me to stay seated. We then waited for the younger girl to leave. Once we were sure she was away, I breathed out, “Is this a goodbye, Shinobu?”

She hummed. I looked up from my lap and saw her strained smile, her determination was unwavering, she knew what she had to do but I saw her hands clenched on her lap. “There is no way to change your mind, is there?” She shook her head, her smile still present, her eyes closed with wrinkles at the corners from how hard she was forcing that smile on her face. “There is no need to act tough with me, you have seen me cry many times. I believe it is fitting to cry on your last day alive, don’t you think?” Those were the words that made her crumble. In an instant, I was in front of her and was holding her tight as she mumbled it was the right thing to do but it is hard to let down Kanao, to leave her alone in this world. “Alone? There is no way I am dying out there, I will keep an eye on her. And you are not letting her down, you are doing what is most honorable, she will battle by your side resolutely.” Shinobu was not one to cry, she did not stay in my arms long. As she pulled away, she smiled to herself sadly, “I wish to be the only one who dies out there.”

I could not promise that, we were going to lose many people, I knew that, she knew that, we all knew that. “But it will not be that easy,” she continued, lifting her head to look at me with a sincere gaze, “I will welcome those who will fall during battle, no one will be alone. You must stay alive and keep living, no matter what.” It sounded like she was repeating herself, but I knew what she meant. Do not let the darkness take over, do not lose your mind over the losses this battle will bring. “That is quite a huge favor, I am not sure-“ “You will, you have to. You are the one who has the most to look forward to once this is over.” There was no need to remind me of that, if I had things to look forward to, it meant I had things to lose and that scared me. So, I tried to distract myself and chuckled, “Do you wish to hear a funeral speech? I am not very familiar with living funerals, but I can try if you wish.” That made her laugh; thus, I spent the following hour with her. Making jokes, bantering and remembering the good times. It did not make the goodbye any easier but it was nice.

At around 4 in the afternoon, the sun was still high in the sky, so we still had a few hours or so in front of us before the plan Master Ubuyashiki had set would take place. For those remaining hours, I had called Rengoku to our chambers and decided to spend as much time with him as possible.

Upon entering our chambers, Rengoku undid his kimono and started stripping without much care, “Do you believe we should dress for the occasion? A battle like this calls for-“ “It is a simple battle, a battle we will win. Nothing has to be different; it is but a bigger demon.” I stated, looking away from his naked form. Did I believe the words I had spoken? Barely, but I needed to hear them, even if it was last minute, I needed to convince myself it was going to be alright. “You are very right; I see you are already dressed in your slayer attire.” He noticed, his voice soft and carefree. It probably was an act, but I enjoyed it, I needed it. As I looked down at my black outfit, I felt a whiplash at the realization of how close we were getting to that fight we had been preparing for so long.

Ignoring my thoughts for the umpteenth time, I gestured for Rengoku to follow me as I moved to the cabinet and grabbed a comb and a ribbon. He understood and sat in front of me, ready for me to take care of him. I did so in silence rather quickly, his hair was a lot less tangled than usual, as if he had taken the habit to brush it. It made me smile for a short moment as I threaded my fingers through his hair. Once I was done, I threw his braid over his shoulder and as if on cue, “With that, I’m sure to win! Nothing will get in my way.” He said enthusiastically as he stood up before saying, “I am quite glad it is the last time we are wearing this attire.” He pinched his shirt to emphasize when we stood up, but I interrupted him and glared at him, not thinking twice before saying, “Do not say that! We will win!” A lie, I did not believe those words, why was I getting that desperate? Why only now?

Rengoku’s eyes widened as he finished buttoning up his shirt; he then walked up to me and cradled my face to smoosh my cheeks and stare at me for a long time. “I meant that once we have defeated Muzan, there will be no need for the corps. We will retire, in a beautiful house near a big field.” He said, never letting go of my face.

I stared back, feeling stupid for my outburst. He was right, but deep down I knew that no matter the outcome, it was the last time we would wear this uniform. Kyojuro must have read my mind, or read my expression, my gaze getting lost in his from overthinking the situation. “Please, stop overthinking.” “I can’t do that. My mind is riddled with anxiety, I am conflicted between blindly trusting our skills or getting used to the idea we are all going to die.” I said, tears pricking the corner of my eyes. Rengoku’s brows knitted together in sadness at seeing me like this. I moved his hands away from mine to wipe the tears to calm down, thinking he should not have to carry the weight of my gloominess out on the battlefield. But I could not help the words from flooding out of my mouth, “I am so afraid of losing you, there is so much more I wish we had done, I regret not-“ “Stop right there,” He pulled me close to him and held me so tight I thought I would break. His head was resting on my shoulder as he hugged me in a bone-crushing embrace. “There is no regret; all that has happened, happened the moment it should have.”

Still holding me tight, he said, “Perhaps fate has other plans for us, perhaps it will try to separate us, but I love challenges, and if I have to defy fate to be with you, I will do it.” I laughed at that, knowing it was impossible, but this man was known for doing the impossible. He was himself impossible, untamable in the best way, the freest mind I had ever encountered. If there was one person who could go against fate and win, it would be him. “I would like to say the same, but at best I will defy Muzan himself, fate seems a bit too hard to beat but-“ “Easy enough for me! I am very skilled,” He said happily, his hands moving to mine as he pulled me with him, our arms extended lazily in front of us as he dragged me around the room all while talking, “I once caught a fish with my bare hands—well it jumped right back in the river, but I caught it!” He said cutely, almost tripping onto the futon behind him, I quickly pulled him towards me and held him close as I looked at him fondly.

“Skilled? Your balance is lacking, perhaps you should have taken dancing lessons.” I said playfully, one of my hands moving to his shoulder while one of his slid to my waist, bringing my hips closer. “My mother taught me how to dance, she was the most delicate when dancing with beautiful flowery dresses,” He smiled genuinely before kissing me and whispering, “Sing me a song, I will show you.” Lost in his glimmering eyes, I simply looked at him in awe, enjoying the warmth of his hands on my body. After a few moments had passed, he reiterated with a chuckle, that’s when I asked, “A song—yes. Which one? I know so many, maybe-“ “The one you were singing when I woke up the first time.”

Taken aback, I gulped and nodded, taking a few seconds to compose myself before starting. It was not made to be a concert, no, it was loud enough for both of us to enjoy and bathe in the serenity it brought us. As I sang, he brought my head to his chest and hummed along, a few notes were off but it made my heart burst with love to know how much he remembered it. I could hear his heartbeat and I hated myself for thinking it could be the last time I did so. Must it be so hard to brandish a sword and defend the ones you love? Must the price of failure be their death? How did we end up here, risking our lives for something none of us had asked for? For a moment, I wished we had been in a reality where we were entertainers, something we were anything but.

Tears started rolling down my cheeks, my words had come to a stop for I was now simply humming and so was Kyojuro. His head was resting against mine and we were slowly waltzing across the tatami, enjoying the moment, perhaps our last together. His embrace was like home, a home I did not wish to leave, it was welcoming and reassuring, a place I wanted to protect and go back to when this was over. It made my heart twist in the most horrible way at the thought of not being able to, of being alone without him by my side, of not hiring a painter to follow us on our adventure, of not having a dog with a silly name. “I am in love with you, please do not die, sunshine.” I sobbed against his chest, his arms tightening around my shoulders as he reassured me.

His answer did not stop the tears and was carved in my mind even hours later, after the explosion of the mansion in which Muzan was, after the Pillars had run there to help, after we had split in teams to all go to our assigned area. The words flashed vividly in my mind as I set foot on the battlefield, shambles surrounding us,

“Let’s live on, let’s do our best to live on, no matter how lonely it gets.”

[Part 9]

[caesthetix]

A LITTLE FEAR — Pt. 3 The Last Goodbye

↪Jean Kirstein mini-series

↪content; canon universe, description of violence, season 4 spoiler, forbidden love, marleyan!reader, scouts!jean, chapter 138 spoiler

Everyone was waiting, a dozen pairs of eyes looking at you with hope, wanting to hear any command from your lips. You were the only one who could calm them down, the only one who was still alive, the hope that shone even when everyone was on the brink of death.

They could not unsee it, those gigantic monsters called titans. Slowly but surely, walking towards where they were right now. You had sent all of your ships ahead to drop all the bombs in hope that it could stop them, or maybe just slow them down.

But it was no use, all of those brave soldiers were now dead knowing they tried to win this fight. The fight that they never prepared to have, the fight that was probably triggered by your own country, the fight that they couldn't win. You knew it, but you were not going to back down without giving all of your might.

"Commander! Look!" One of the troops called, pointing at the flying boat that flew from behind the line of titans. "That's the cart titan! And— the armoured titan, commander! We are saved! They will win this fight, we just need to wait!" He shouted so anyone could hear, wanting to share the news. "Even the island devils too! They are joining forces to stop that monster!"

The sound of cheers followed right after the troop announced that. It only needed the fact that someone else was taking care of the fight, that was the only thing they needed to lift the burden off their shoulders. At least for a while, they have the privilege to feel that.

You wanted to speak up, tell them that it was not the time to celebrate yet. But as you turned away from the fight ahead and looked behind you, finding your soldiers sobbing out of relief and crying from the happiness that perhaps they had a chance to live — you didn't dare to take that away from them.

Deep down, you wanted to believe that they were going to win. You wanted to take some rest too, believing them completely. After all, two titans could help them do anything, and perhaps the Ackermans were there too, enhancing their success rate even more.

But you could not rest, ever since you knew that Marley sent ninety percent of their army to attack the Paradis altogether, you could not sit down and do nothing. You needed to occupy yourself with anything, even though it was just staring at the horde of colossal titan, at least your mind was preoccupied with the thought of war.

At least your mind was not preoccupied with the thought of him.

You cursed your higher-ups when they told you to stay in Marley. Saying you are the wittiest commander, the one with a clear mind and with a good sense of war on top of that. You didn't know what happened on the other side of the sea. Whether your country won or not, you didn't know.

Until this morning, of course. Until when you woke up in your private barracks this morning. Everything was in chaos, soldiers running around to pack up, saying things about how Marley was already lost. Or more accurately, the whole world had lost.

Liberio was already gone, thousands or perhaps millions of titans were sent to wipe the entire planet clean. They said the devil in Paradis wanted to commit genocide to the whole world, leaving nothing but empty ground filled with thousands of corpses on top of it, working as a fertilizer for a brand new world.

But that was it. That was the only information you got. Everyone was waiting for your command after delivering the message to you, and you wanted to curse yourself since the first thing that came into your mind was not a war strategy, not a plan to keep on living, no.

You wanted to curse yourself as a commander that the first thing you thought about was — is he safe?

It was a question, stopping your brain to think about anything else. You were human too, grief and sadness were something that you could feel and you just needed a minute alone to calm yourself down. But you couldn't succumb yourself to such a thing as you were the only hope the Marleyan Military had right now.

So here you were in this moment, standing tall on the Air Force Unit base in Fort Salta. You called every troop who still wanted to fight, and for those who wanted to leave you promised them there wouldn't be punishment. And you were proud to know that the majority of them chose to go with you.

But they're dead now. Those pilots carried out the command that you gave without hesitating. It was a simple task, fly on top of the colossal titans and drop the bombs. They were supposed to go back, reporting to their post that they could slow the movement for a little or maybe kill some of the titans.

No one expected the beast titan to appear out of nowhere and throw shards at them, no one expected the bomb to detonate far from the lines of titans, no one expected that the force would die with no result at all. And for those who stayed beside you could only ask, "What should we do now, commander?"

There was nothing else that you could do. And at a time like this, you wondered why they decided to be here. Unlike you, they had someone who greeted them when they came home every day. They had a family; a mother who cooked them dinner, a lover that would warm their bed, they had kids that listen to them as they read a bedtime story.

And yet, despite knowing they could spend the last moment of their life with the people who loved them, they decided to stay.

Yes, they were loved, unlike you.

Your parents disowned you the second you decided to get passed down over the family business, you had no real friends that cared for your well-being, you had no one else outside of the military and that was the only reason you were here right now instead of abandoning your position.

That, and the wishful thinking which perhaps if you stay alive, you would meet him again.

"Commander?" You jolted when one of the soldiers called you. Clearing your throat, you erase all of the stupid thoughts that occupied your mind.

"Yes, soldier?" Your voice was stern, wanting to portray that you were not wavering. You waited for him to answer your question, but it seemed like he hesitated. His eyes scrutinized you with worry, and that was enough to make you question him. "Soldier—"

"Why are you crying, commander?"

Your pupils dilated when you heard his words. You frantically wiped your cheeks with your fingers, not wanting to let him see how vulnerable you were at this moment. He was kind enough to give you space after that, muttering an apology before leaving your side, and you wished he didn't say anything to the others.

Right now, you were their power and hope. If you showed any sign of weakness, it could decrease their morale, and you didn't want it to happen. So you just looked forward after that, perfecting your stance as you prepared your binocular to see better what happened up there.

And as you did so, you wished that Jean was not up there. Or if he did, then you could only hang on high hopes that he would survive.

Because you refused to acknowledge that you had no chance to say goodbye.

Never have you felt like this for so long. Perhaps, you never felt like this for all the years you lived your life. Your whole body felt so warm as the carnal desire that you had before slowly subsided. Sweats coating your skin, making the strands of your hair sticking to it like it was glued.

You were sprawled out on top of this cheap mattress, eyes scrutinizing the pattern on the wall as you inhaled and released the air out of your body bit by bit, recalling what happened a few hours earlier. You never thought that this weekend would be different from the others. Hitting the bar after such a long week was like a celebration for you, and so, you were there, seated yourself on the right end of the bar, and drinking whatever alcohol they served you.

But you didn't expect your night to unfurl like this. Laying in the arms of a stranger who introduced himself as Jean Kirstein. His intense eyes mesmerized you as he gazed down upon your figure, vivid brown looking so bright under the dim light of the bar — and it didn't change, even when you laid under him in this dark motel room with the moon as the only source of light.

Never once you ever let a stranger string you along like this. Whether you were sober or under influence of the alcohol, you could always stand your ground. So when you took his hand and ran giddily beside him like stupid, hormonal teenagers, it was all your choice by the end of the day.

The rattle of belts brought you back to the present. You turned your head to find the stranger already dressed neatly as if he didn't just turn a fierce commander to be a lady who had to fulfill her needs. Whatever happened tonight was a mistake, at least that was what his body language told you as he scrambled around the room, searching for his belongings.

You propped your elbow and laid on your side, watching him intently while your naked body still hidden under the blankets, really a contrast to him now. His face filled with worry, and now it made you wonder why a man could be so afraid of something like a one-night stand.

He turned to look at you as he fetched his fedora hat from the ground, plopping it on top of his head with newfound confidence as he was done calming himself. His eyes popped a little, not expecting you to stare at him with a gentle smile on your face. Without regret could be seen inside as if you enjoyed his company more than anyone else.

"I thought you were still asleep." He whispered out, knowing well that it was so late at night.

"And let you go without saying goodbye? In your dreams, Kirstein." You mockingly said with a sultry note, rolling your body so now you sat at the edge of the bed, still locking your gaze with him.

He rolled his eyes, wanting to look as if he was annoyed. But the small smirk forming on his face didn't go unnoticed by you.

"Guess you wouldn't let me go that easily, huh?"

He took off his fedora once again, clutching it tightly as he pressed it on his chest. For sure you would think that he had a title or some kind of aristocracy in his blood with how much of a gentleman he had been this whole time.

Or maybe he was just a normal Marleyan, someone without any special role. Yes, a simple man, being attracted to a simple man wouldn't be so bad after all. Then again, that kind of fashion was one of a kind, he could be an underground criminal too, perhaps, you could never guess.

But now though, with how enchanting he looked right now with those challenging gaze thrown at you — you didn't care where he came from or what kind of dark secret that he hides. You didn't know anything about him and yet it didn't stop you from giving him some attention.

Because despite your blindness, you still wanted him. So much.

"I wouldn't let you go without saying a proper goodbye."

You closed your eyes, easing the pain that suddenly throbbed your skull as you recalled the first night that you spent with him. Your mind played some of the memories that you had like a broken record, never-ending and felt like a nightmare most of the time since you knew it was just a distant past that could never happen again.

It was not the time to think about yourself or worry about his existence. You needed to let it go for now, and you had to be the commander that everyone expected you to be. Right now was not the right time to be a normal human. Not when your whole life was filled with peculiarity.

"Thank you."

You gave Mr. Leonhart a firm nod and a smile as you helped him up. "I always knew that you are not like any other Marleyan Commander, you did the right thing by firing all those rounds into the air." He chuckled softly, making his wrinkles more visible by it.

The Marleyan and Eldian clashed before, having both sides pointing their guns at each other. But you stated before that there was enough hatred in this world, and you needed to start from here, emptying the bullets that the Marleyan had to the sky, followed by the Eldian doing the exact same thing as they knew it was time to let go of the hate.

And now, it seemed like the rumbling had stopped. You saw it with your own eyes how yellow lights from a transformation engulfed your vision. Everyone was blinded, no one knew what happened until the lights subsided. Even now as the Marleyan helped those who got injured, no one in this fortress knew what happened out there.

There was a high possibility that the joined forces had won the battle since now you could feel the ground had stopped shaking. The explosion from before must be from the colossal titan that fell on Paradis's hand, successfully crushing the founder and stopping the rumbling.

"Dad?"

Not too far from you, stood a woman with blonde hair and beautiful ocean eyes. Mr. Leonhart immediately turned to face her, and he was frozen at the spot, couldn't believe his own eyes that he finally reunited with someone that you believed was his daughter.

It was so beautiful to see such a reunion. You knew that Annie Leonhart was still stuck in Paradis due to some circumstances, and for them having a chance to see each other again, must have felt like a blessing.

But the serene moment didn't last more than a few seconds. There was a sudden smoke engulfing the air around you. No one knew what it was, but it suffocated everyone as it filled their lungs. And your instinct told you to run — finding its source.

Right now, you needed to stop being a commander.

"Captain! You are the one in charge while I am gone!"

"Wait, commander!"

You couldn't stop. Your heart was beating a thousand times faster as you ran and left the fortress, ignoring the shout from your troops as you trotted past the smokes. You needed to understand what happened, and you needed to see if maybe he was here too.

There was a gush of wind, and you squinted your eyes to find a titan flew from the edge of the cliff. It was the same titan that you saw carrying the joined forces right before the explosion. And you wondered why they left so abruptly.

Was it because of the smoke? Were they going to come back later? Why they seemed to be so afraid with—

"Jean?"

Just like that, you couldn't think of anything else. It was as if the time had stopped when your eyes laid to the familiar ash-brown mullet that you always loved to run your fingers to. He wore the straps and belt that you knew what it was for, and even though his hair was dishevelled right now, he still looked so breathtaking.

He carefully turned to face you, and his brown orbs immediately filled with relief and something else entirely that you could not fathom. And despite the smoke surrounding the place, he was the only thing that you could see, the only one that you could focus on.

He looked so tired as if he wanted nothing but sleep for years. His eyes glinted under the sun and yet the shone inside those chocolate orbs looked dimmed already. You couldn't hear what his friend told him, you couldn't see the horror on his friend's face as you stood there — only ten feet apart from the man that you have been longing to see.

You took a few steps forward, just a little more and you could feel his body heat once more. It was the only thing that you wanted in the world, especially at this moment. To feel his warm embrace once again, to capture that plump lips with yours.

Jean could believe neither his eyes nor his ears. He heard your voice so vividly before, and now he could see you, standing flesh without any prominent wound on your body. What Pieck said was true, you would be here and very much alive. So there was only one thing left that he needed to do.

But then he felt Connie's arms wrapped around his torso.

"Jean! Snap out of it!"

No, you were so close, he was so close to giving the key back to you.

"She could be burned by the transformation!"

Then his pupils widened at the realisation.

You were there, right in front of him. And you kept walking forward without understanding the situation. Your eyes glistened with tears, hopefully, it was happy tears. And with how his vision blurred as he saw you this close, he knew that he was in the same state as you.

Maybe, then maybe just having another look at you was enough for him.

"Stand back!"

He stopped you from taking another step, making you halt your feet as he backed away from where you were. Giving you space from him and the others Eldian so you didn't get hurt later, but enough for you to hear him in this stretched-out moment.

There was no time, he could turn into a titan a few seconds from now. Running to you and returning the key to your palm would be too risky, and he didn't want you to die just yet when he felt like the world was finally free from fear.

Free from hatred and war, free from oppression. And perhaps — free to love whoever you want.

This time, he was actually grateful that he fell in love with a Marleyan. If that meant his love could live and see the world that they always wanted, it was enough for him. He was happy enough to know that you would stay alive while he would be gone as a soldier who fulfilled his duty.

If only that cursed creature was not here in this world. If only it didn't emit the smoke that could turn the Eldians to a mindless titan. If only his body didn't have this blood flowing through his veins. If — God, everything filled with that word. Just if only he met and fell in love with you under different circumstances.

Maybe he could live with you on prime real estate in wherever place that you wanted. He could live a long and happy life with you and future children, then he could bring you to meet his mother too, he was sure that she would adore you solely because you love him.

But it was all just a fantasy that would never come true.

So perhaps, he needed to do it any other day.

"I am sorry, love."

"Wait, Jean!"

"I'll give you back the key someday."

"Jean, I—"

A booming voice rang through your ears as your body was thrown away from the force. Your head slammed to the building behind you before your figure fell to the ground, making you feel detached from the rest of the world as your consciousness floating through the empty space, filled with static.

You heard a roar, and the ground beneath you seemed to shake once more. You tried to open up your eyes, only to find out that your vision blurred from the impact your head took just now. But you could still see it, gigantic feet filled your vision as you started to understand what happened.

You were supposed to move away, shielding yourself from these mindless titans that suddenly transformed. You should have remembered one of Zeke's miracles about how he could use a cloud of smoke to control an entire village in Paradis a few years ago. It was the same as back then and you should have remembered.

You should have remembered that you were in love with an Eldian, and something like this was bound to happen.

Now you knew why Jean's friend pulled him away from your figure. Now you could finally hear the warning and understood why they tried to keep you within a safe distance. They didn't want you to be burned alive, afraid that you would die if you were just a little too close.

Coughing up from all the rubbles that impaled your lungs, you gently leaned your back to the building that was still intact, waiting for your eyes to see everything clearly. All the Eldians were transformed, including those who were inside the fortress.

So you decided to sit there, watching how he turned into a titan as you wish that this nightmare would end soon. The familiar ash-brown hair titan roared as it looked around, perhaps searching for any human that it could devour.

You didn't try to run away just yet as you still need time to accept the fact. The burning sun and the rough ground that scratch your skin were nothing compared to the discomfort that swirled in your stomach just now. Realising that Jean was gone, accepting the fact that he was now a titan would be the hardest thing that you ever did in life.

It turned to look at you, at least to where you were right now. Maybe it would be alright if you died in his hand, you let your body go limp and just stare at his now empty eyes. He was not there anymore, he couldn't think or have a mind of himself. Now Jean became a puppet for the cursed creature.

You thought that this would be the climax, a tragic ending for the star-crossed lover. There was no happy ending in this story, in the grey relationship that you had with him. So it didn't matter anymore how cruel your death would be, you died in a war and you had no regret over it.

Though, he just stood there. His eyes never left your figure, not even moved an inch or gave away any sign that he would eat you alive. He just looked at you — as if he could still think, as if your Jean was still there, saying goodbye and muttering apology inside his mind.

The time seemed to slow down as you could see a single tear slipped from his eyes. Either it was your imagination or reality, you didn't know that. You were not given any explanation or a chance to take another look at him as he suddenly turned his back on you and ran.

Just as simple as that, he jumped off to the cliff along with the other new titans, gone from your eyesight and gone from your life. Completely, without a chance that he would come back again and stand in front of your door like what he used to do.

The two of you were not in Marley, not cooped up inside of your apartment where you could relish his presence. He was not just a stranger that slipped into your life, becoming a part of your routine and made your day felt more beautiful and worth getting by.

Tomorrow you wouldn't see him again, or feel his heartbeat as you laid on top of him, fingers following the line of his marks like what you loved to do.

Instead, you needed to face reality where you could no longer greet him with a confident hello that always made him smile. You needed to face reality, that you couldn't give him a proper goodbye, with him planting a kiss on your lips to reassure you that he would be back tomorrow.

Because you knew that he was already gone. And despite knowing how hard it would be for you to keep it in mind — you needed to accept it.

Even if it took you a lifetime to carry out.

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[weasleyswizardpleases]

Funny Girl (Pt. 2)

Summary: Being serious has never been your thing, but when you find yourself at the center of a conflict that tears Fred and George apart in the midst of the second wizarding war, it’s hard to find something to laugh about.

Warnings/Notes: Violence, hospital setting, blood, crying. This is a second part per the request of several of you and also my own brain goblin. There will be a part three!

tags: @weasley2x @weasleyfilms 

It’s been several months since your falling out with the Weasley twins. The tensions in the wizarding world are coming to a head; the dark lord grows stronger by the day. Purebloods are becoming bolder in their oppression of muggleborns and wizards of mixed heritage, not to mention no-majs. Potter and his little crew have disappeared. Dumbledore is dead. Things look rather bleak. 

You wish you could say that you worked things out with your friends, but they both felt betrayed, even though you tried to explain the misunderstanding. How could you have known that they’d both have feelings for you? How could you have predicted that they’d both make their move on the same day, within minutes of each other, nonetheless? You weren’t prepared to choose, then or now. And that’s what they demand- me or him, him or me. So you distance yourself. You’re still friends with Lee, but your friend group has really broken apart since you and the twins have begun avoiding one another. 

In confidence, Lee tells you that he’s never seen Fred so on edge, and George has become more withdrawn than ever. He reassures you that they’ve patched things up between the two of them, though. It was your biggest worry after the fight, that they’d let you drive a wedge between them. That was foolish to even consider, of course. You’ve always known that, although the three of you had been a trio ever since you met, their connection to one another was closer than their connection to you. It’s only natural. They were born together, and, apparently finding the provided companionship sufficient, have clung together ever since. Blood runs thicker than any matter of the heart. No falling out could change that for very long. 

You, on the other hand, are left alone, without your two closest friends since first year. You try to throw yourself into your final year of studies, but your heart isn’t in it, and you wind up working with some others outside of class to hone your defense against the dark arts skills; you sense something big is coming. When the battle of hogwarts arrives, you have your first conversation with fred and george since your falling out. Mrs. Weasley sees you and pulls you across the room, eagerly shoving you in between the twins. You groan and nod curtly at each of them as she bustles away. It’s a sweet gesture- Molly has always liked you, and clearly wants you and the boys to patch things up- but it feels much more grim given the circumstances. Some people will certainly lose their lives tonight. It may be your last chance. 

You sigh and look at Fred almost shyly. His eyes meet yours gingerly, and in that glance is all you need to know. He pulls you into a tight hug, and you match his embrace. 

“I’ve missed you,” you whisper.

“I’ve missed you too,” he says softly.

You turn to George, who pulls you into his arms without hesitation. His broad shoulders heave with a massive exhale. 

“It’s good to see you again,” he says.

“I bet it would be even better to hear me,” you say, grinning. He fingers the bandage over his mangled ear and smiles.

“We’ve been making some adjustments. Trying to see how smooth we can get his noggin, bit by bit. Soon he’ll look just like an egg,” Fred says, putting a hand on your shoulder. The way the three of you interact is like before, but more careful. The tension is still there. There’s a lot you need to talk about to really smooth things over, but the urgency of the situation forces you to bandage the wound as best you can. It’s comforting, at least, to know that they’re intentions are for the restoration of your friendship.

When the barrier is lifted and the hordes come rushing in, you fight right alongside the Weasleys. The three of you work in tandem perfectly, knocking out death eaters one after another as if this is your job. You wipe out a particularly nasty one and George whistles in admiration. 

“Done this before?” he asks. You spray covering blows as Fred and Percy run across an open stretch of courtyard into the castle’s corridors, into the fray. By the time you hear the corridor collapsing, taking Fred under its enormous weight, you’re too absorbed by the encroaching crowd to pay it any mind. It’s only later when you realize that you heard, even saw, the explosion, and did nothing. 

When the battle pauses, George is still right there beside you. The arm of his jacket is ripped, and you can see blood caked on his skin through the tear. The air is dusty and morale is low. You look around, watching as those who are able emerge with stretchers and collect the injured. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch a classmate, the girl who sat next to you in potions, lifted onto a stretcher, writhing in pain. Now that you can finally think, fear clouds your mind. George’s voice breaks your reverie. 

“Y/N,” he says. You turn to him. He puts his hands on your shoulders and looks into your eyes. “We made it.” You nod, blinking tearfully, and pull him to you. Your small frame shakes, adrenaline still coursing through you, your thoughts clear and urgent. George’s chest rises and falls as he tries to regain his breath. Over his shoulder, you see Percy jogging alongside a stretcher. He looks stricken. You freeze, your eyes widening. You shake George’s embrace off and nod towards the scene.

His face darkens and you both take off running to catch up with Percy and the students carrying the stretcher- on further inspection, it’s two boys from your year looking nearly unrecognizable, drenched in sweat and the grime of battle, their faces ashen. 

Percy looks at you but doesn’t speak. You brace yourself and look down at the stretcher. It’s as you feared. Fred. He’s pale, his breathing shallow, his body limp. 

“Freddie!” you scream, your heart in your throat. George nearly collapses at the sight but you pull him onward, knowing that above all, you must be together now, that in this dire moment Fred must be with George, and George with Fred, to the very last.

George, weak in the knees, casts an arm around your shoulders and you follow Fred into the great hall. Time seems to move slowly. You wave down the Weasleys, and they crowd in. Fred is set down on the stone floor, and you move to wave down a healer, but it’s impossible to find one who isn’t occupied with some other task. 

In this moment, nothing matters to you more than saving Fred. You yank on the shoulder of nearest healer, who’s working on a wounded leg.

“Get over here,” you say roughly. “He’s dying,” you add, waving toward the grim scene. She nods curtly at the owner of the bloodied leg and turns her attention to you.

“There’s nothing we can do. We’re waiting on transport to St. Mungo’s to arrive, but we can’t fix the unforgivables here. We just aren’t equipped.”

“Waiting? Waiting?!” you shout, grabbing her by the shoulders. “There’s no bloody time for waiting. Save him! Do something! Now!”

The healer, a sallow-cheeked woman in her forties, pries your hands off her shoulders and pats your arm sadly. She shakes her head. 

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, knowingly, “but I have to focus on saving those who can be saved.” She turns back to her patient and continues mending the leg. You look around frantically, but George is there, pulling you to kneel around the stretcher with the others, before you can decide what to do.

“It’s no use,” he says, his mouth set deep in a frown. You finally take a good look at Fred, and it’s almost too much. You know that this may be the last time you see him alive, if this can be called living. You bury your face in his side, breathing in his scent. You feel yourself begin to cry. 

“Freddie, my Freddie. I’m so sorry. I love you. I love you,” you murmur into his bloodied jacket. You feel him shudder, and he moans what may be an attempt at speech. Soon, the healers from St. Mungo’s are there to take him. By that time, you’re sure he won’t live. George, of course, goes to St. Mungo’s to wait, and you follow. The rest of the family stays to fight, Molly and Ginny especially resolute in their quest for revenge. Later, you hear reports that the Weasleys all fought like animals, hardened by grief. The waiting rooms at the hospital are overflowing, and you and George are left to slump on the floor. You throw your overcoat across your laps for warmth and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, after many moments of silence. 

“I love you, George Weasley.”

“I love you too.”

“I’m sorry about everything.”

“Me too,” he says. You feel him shake softly with tears, and you hold him as he cries. Eventually, his breathing becomes more even, and he slumps into your lap, asleep. You hold him protectively for hours, waiting for any news at all, but none comes. A few times you flag down St. Mungo’s staff and ask about Fred, but they have nothing. By morning, when rumors arrive that Voldemort has been defeated, cheers ring through the halls, but you and George remain in limbo. Others like you fill the waiting area, their faces timid and bleak. Nobody speaks very much. 

Finally, the nurses let you in to see him, and he’s a pitiful sight. But he’s alive. Watching the hospital sheets rise and fall with his breath is the greatest gift. The nurses tell you he should regain consciousness soon, and you sit alert beside the bed, hope flooding your body. You clasp George’s clammy hands in yours while you wait, stroking the back of his hands soothingly. 

Finally, Fred stirs. He blinks gingerly and looks around the room, unable even to raise his head from the pillow. Immediately, George is at the bedside, grinning.

“Fred!!” he cries, grasping his brother’s face in his hands excitedly. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you, you handsome devil.”

“What happened?” Fred asks weakly, looking dazed. Your body goes electric with joy at the sound of his voice, and you run to find a nurse, as you were instructed to do. You grab the first person you see in scrubs and pull him back to Fred’s room. When you burst in the door, Fred inhales sharply. 

“Y/N?” he asks softly.

“Freddie!” you exclaim. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that dopey voice.” You rush to his bedside and hold his hand while the nurse checks his vitals. “There’s so much I have to tell you. If you had… well, you didn’t, I suppose is the point, and… Freddie, I love you. And I’m sorry about the past few months.”

“Y/N. I love you too. And I’m sorry, too. Even sorrier.”

“Good,” you say crossly. George looks at you questioningly. “What? He started it!” Fred laughs weakly and you kiss him gently on the forehead. You’re not sure what your relationship to the boys will be going forward, but for now, it’s clear: all is forgiven, and acknowledged, and accepted.

[nico-no-talk]

I have decided to make more headcanons of the gang and maybe go more in depth to a particular one that we may all know of

Sunny

As I said before, this boy can fit so much autistic symptoms

His parents are quiet close with their kids but it seems like they messed some things up like parents do: Mari is somewhat a perfectionist and Sunny may have undiagnosed autism

Quickly headcanoning Sunny's name might be Hikaru or any name that means light

ANYWAY, as he grew up, the more he verbally opened up to his friends and still uneasy with his family, except for Mari.

Sunny likes to play with toys like any other kid does but he only likes toys that he can role play with such as his stuffed toys and building blocks that he can make homes for

When he was in this 11th year of being alive, his parents got rid of his building blocks as a way to help him 'grow up' since what kind of 11-year old play with building blocks still? They didn't touch his stuffed toys since they knew he would kick and scream way more than with his blocks

Sunny was devastated when he learned his parents tossed his blocks and cried for weeks that his friends, his stuffed toys, didn't have homes anymore

Mari decided to earn money with Hero's help to get him a new set so he won't be sad anymore, and knew he liked the feeling of smooth wood against his skin

After his 12th birthday party, Mari asked to not toss this set out and just keep it for any kids that Mari and Sunny may have in the future. Even Mari wasn't sure if Sunny would want kids, but it was something that managed to convince their parents

Speaking of Sunny speaking, he is somewhat semi-verbal around his friends but he does talk most of the time with them since he felt like it doesn't hurt when talking to them unlike with the rest of his family.

Speaking of family again, Mari's name might be short for Mariko since the transition to the 'ko' may have been difficult for Sunny to pronounce but her name might actually be Mari since it is a Japanese name as it does mean 'real logic' if written in a certain way

Their parents may have gotten a speech therapist for Sunny to help him pronounce words better and so the other adults will stop saying things how strange he is

Stims includes, minor biting, finger snapping, whistles, finger tapping, hand flaps, and random noises. Why random noises? Because I do too

Post-canon, Sunny's mom decided to actually get him diagnose and help him out more so he can graduate in school quickly since he did drop out of middle school

He did managed to get back in school within his age-grade and goes to separate rooms during testing for his classes

For long weekends, he tries to visit his friends as often as he can, especially Kel since he likes the way Kel's hair feels and enjoys feeling the callousness on his hands

Mari

Mari Mari Mari

She is a perfectionist, even towards herself since he parents often compared Sunny to her, saying how Mari was able to do a lot of things when she was Sunny's age

Seeing how they made her a goal for Sunny, she tried to be the perfect image of what it is to be normal

Do after school activities, have hobbies, play music, have friends, fall in love, have long hair since she's a girl and he's a boy, only like boys and show him to only like girls, so on and so on

After the building block incident, thats when she realizes that Sunny will never be a 'normal' kid and go out of her way to make his life easier. She'll continue to be his role model but for a new and better reason

She bought him some of his stuffed toys since he liked the texture, picked out clothes that he liked but had to make the tough choice of getting him 'normal' looking clothes so he won't get bullied, eat any of the food he hates, continued to play the piano since he likes the sound, is happy that she stopped softball because he hated going out to her games because of how loud it is and it felt cramped to him, and so many other things

When hanging out with the gang, Mari allowed herself to relax and not focus on Sunny

Kel

Middle child syndrome screams

Despite it being just being him and Hero for the longest time, he was still an afterthought for his parents when it comes to Hero and Sally

He didn't mind. He thought thats how parents are with multiple kids. Sunny's parents were kind of the same as his so he thought he was right but Basil's didn't make any sense

Like everyone else, he has never met Basil's parents and thought they just worked all day and play with Basil at night

But Basil said it wasn't, so it confused him more but he stopped questioning it after thinking about it for a while

As Kel gotten older, the more he realizes that he sort of has 'jumpies' like Sunny does but it was different. It helped him feel less tighten-up and felt better

He asked Hero during on of his visits, Hero explained that Kel may have ADHD or ADD.

"Oh" it clicked

Kel wanted to do something 'smart' on his own for once and decided to research on his own about himself and Sunny

He learned lots of things and became more open minded about a lot of things: gender, sexuality, neurodiversity, polyamory relationships, religion, and many other things

Hero

Biggest Asexual with Mari as well

Only became an overachiever because he loved the praise he got from everyone

Honestly, I dont got much for Hero, sorry man

Aubrey

Bisexual energy

Her father made sure she was a perfect little girl: wears dresses and skirts, like pink, wears a bow all the time, keep herself neat, come home right after school and ask first if she wants to keep playing, not playing with boys especially the rough playing boys

After loosing her shoe and meeting everyone, she decided to stay around them and be herself: rough housing, wear blue, wear spare shorts that either Mari, Sunny, or Kel may have, take off her bow as often as possible, be out of the house as possible to be with her friends, and may have a crush on an older girl you see almost everyday

When her dad left, everything came down: mom gave up, money became tight, Mari is gone, no one is around with her, and start doing things she never done before because of obligated morals

She started dating Kim, hung out with the hooligans, wore 'less' clothing, rude, crude, tomboy, carried weapons, and dyed her hair

Post-canon, she stopped some of her bad habits: wore clothes that are modest whenever she felt like it, a little more polite but still a little rude, stopped carrying weapons, and kept the pink hair in memory of Mari. Still dating Kim since she loves her more than anything in the world

Basil

Who the fuck names their kid Basil? His name was probably Jermey and just he liked the word Basil so much that he said a lot instead of his birth name. He got the name Basil since it was the first thing he planted

For years, no one in the gang knew Basil was a nickname, just accepted that his name was Basil and his parents just liked plants, not realizing his parents are not around a lot

Bet you anything, since Basil vents to Sunny a lot, he may have talked to him about sexuality and gender a lot with him, coming out to him as gay and might be non-binary in some way, still wasn't sure

Sunny was the one he told that Basil was a nickname but he wants to be his actual name

"But, your name has always been Basil, hasn't it?" Sunny asked

Basil had vowed to protect Sunny at all costs since that day and also be proud of himself no matter what and to always introduce himself as Basil, no matter how scared he was

Post-canon, after being in the hospital and some for of mental hospital for some time, after being officially released, Basil came out to everyone else

"Wait, so Basil was a name you picked this whole time?! That is so cool!" Kel cheered as he lifts Basil up in the air in joy

No one dared to ask what his deadname was and use whatever pronouns he asks them to use: He/They but still struggles to respond to they/them pronouns since he never told anyone else other than Sunny

Annnnnnnd thats all I got. Feel free to ask more from me