#MADE MY DAY TEN TIMES BETTER <333
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Everything you write leaves me breathless <333
Sorry in advance for my English
I was thinking about König, (maybe in an ancient rome/Greek settling) being so alone and desperate for connection that he turns to religion: one day he's walking in the woods, deep in thought, when he finds an abandoned temple. The inside is small but lavish, with a life sized statue of what must be its goddess. He sees this lovely sculpture, abandoned and alone and sees himself in her. He becomes a dedicated, fanatic and soso lovestruck worshipper. Unknownly to him his goddess, woken by his prayers, has been watching him and listening to him. One day while he's praying in front of her her statue moves and talks and now his deity is in front of him. Looks like he has an opportunity to worship her like she deserves ;)
granting you ten million kissies for this prompt and your sweet words! your English is perfect, little wisp! <3 also… giving me an excuse to write more loner/loner and mutual worship?! you have spoken to my heart…
content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical/myth au; vague time period, brief mentions of violence, fluff, pining, not very explicit smut, mutual worship.
The spirit of the temple feels disorienting, though the architecture is a still, white marble, the floor riddled with leaves and dirt, creeping up the sides of the building as if river water had washed the entire thing ashore… Something feels very alive here, feathered out on the air, a pulse of thunder, the breeze beneath dove’s wings, enthused and yawning. Hungry.
It only becomes more apparent the closer he steps to the statue.
She is unlike any he has ever seen before, carved with the same skill, but so much smaller than the other statues in their temples, so much more lifelike that he almost thinks to greet her. She’s been painted unlike most, a perfect vision bathed in color where she stands out amidst the sea of white and green surrounding her. The temple has not been stained with blood, no offering strewn before her bare feet, left for the rot or dragged away by the dainty hands of this very goddess. No maidens sit in prayer, no men lower there swords to her…
There’s nothing to tell him just who she is, either.
Despite his better judgment, his hand does find her side, a swift draw up from the vision of her thigh peeking from her robe upward to curl over her hip. Her beauty is unmatched, impossible to describe and the call seems almost tangible, shrieking at him in whispers to bend a knee and let her in. So, he does. He prays to her in the silence, alternating between whispers and his own thoughts.
He tells her of his struggles: a soldier brought in from a small tribe up north, robbed from his parents as a boy, how all he knew now were the Roman ways yet could rarely comprehend their customs and deities. Maybe she could offer him some counsel or solace…? Make the weight of his blade feel less heavy as he struck down men that could very well be his own brothers? Give him something to return to when old wounds reopened and he bled, hurt with no one but himself to tend to his heart or his injuries.
The goddess only blesses him with silence: the wind does not pick up outside, there is no disembodied laughter, no sudden thought of an offering or new words to speak to her. She is void of an answer just as the very temple she waits inside is empty of all else.
This does not dissuade him from returning.
Returning to the city after another battle some months later, his first thought is to return to her, to leave the things he’s taken from dead men at her feet, to paint the temple with the blood lingering on his weapon. There is honey, wine, meat and jewelry made of stones from the sea. There is brittle, dried flakes of blood polished from his blade and left to settle onto the floor like the leaves of late autumn. He presents these things to her with a grin, thinking that assuredly this goddess would call back to him then, grant him with a love so consuming that all of the evasion and emptiness cursed upon him would be untwined.
He kneels before her statue, presses his cheek to her thigh, sighs content at the feel of cold marble against the ever-burning of his flesh, gazes up at her like an adoring dog.
Assuredly, if this temple were built for a being that did exist at all she would know just how she was all that this lonesome soldier had, would know the way that he loved her and waited with bated breath and heartstrings pulled taut for her to love him in turn. A greedy, begging muzzle that utters his prayers, words he’s never spoken to anyone whether deity or mortal, only to her in the quiet of the forest.
It’s not madness that provokes him, but the gentleness of her face and the tender look in her eyes, an expression that no other had ever offered to him, no one but this little forgotten goddess. Whether pitying or loving, he did not know. It was only enough to keep him returning: for many days, his path from the city led straight to her feet, even some nights were spent lying upon her floor, finding peace finally being able to sleep next to something apart from lonely walls.
The sun rises and sets each day where he sits and speaks to her as though she were a living, breathing woman. Occasionally he reads aloud to her in the stillness, cheekily tells her when another goddess’ name is brought up within the lines of poetry that they could never hope to compare.
It’s ridiculous when he does not even know what purpose she serves, but this silent figure is his only companion, the only thing that sets his heart ablaze and mind focused in battle because above all else, he has to return to her. Though she can not share his words, he knows somehow that she shares in his loneliness.
Finally, he thinks to ask her the question that has been burning at the tip of his tongue for weeks and months. One, that he has tried to hold back, display a patience that he lacks. It’s after a night of sleeping on cold marble, an ache in his neck from its hardness and his own refraining from bringing a cushion from his own home in his desperation to return to her.
“Why won’t you speak?,” he asks, somber as he makes his way to leave the temple, only halting in place to cast her a fragile look from over his shoulder. He has read the epics, heard the stories and seen the blessings of other deities… Yet no matter what he does or how often he tethers himself to her leg and dotes upon her, she still meets his devotion with nothing but her silence in return.
König is left with the thought that his gifts are not enough, that he, himself, is not enough, even as her sole devotee. To keep his mind preoccupied, he keeps to the city for a time. The bed is cold, the people still see him as a barbaric outsider, and the horrible coil wound around his heart only seems to tighten its grip further. He feels as though he has left a part of himself out there in the forest within the four chalked walls of her temple.
This loneliness does not feel like one he is forced to swallow down, it feels like a vicious sort of ache, the twisting of a dagger beneath ribs to sink in and steal away what little of a life he does have.
He returns to her the following night, with a furrowed brow and a grave look upon his face. There’s an intent to demand she free him of her, that this longing finally pass, but as his sandals reach the entrance to the temple, those thoughts fall away from his mind like droplets of rain, a cool drizzle that begins to fall outside the very moment he is sheltered.
The statue— the goddess moves.
She tilts her head and inspects him fondly, the perfect mouth he has envisioned speaking to him so many times prior tilts upward in the gentlest smile as her bare feet move to carry her body forward.
“A test,” she explains as though answering his question from only the past day, almost saddened by her own words as her gaze lowers to the space between them.
König’s heart does not roar then, it only melts with the knowledge that someone like her has been left alone for so, so very long that she felt the need to prove to herself that he would return to her side. He would. Time and time again he would. When she raises her head to look him in the eye, her own clouded and misty, he only silently prays that she could see such a vow upon his face.
“I am worthy then?,” he questions, forcing himself to remain rigidly in place despite the call- the urge, to circle her, just once, drop at her feet to then feel her pulse beneath his fingertips. Anything. Even an assurance would be reward enough, but there is always a greed in the hearts of men, one he feels burning a hole through his very being even now.
Her lips press to a line and her gaze seems faraway, lost in her own thoughts that must be as mighty as Olympus itself. After a time, she only answers in a soft whisper, “It is I who am unworthy of you.”
All discordance in his chest pulls to a halt at this, all apprehension and sadness are whisked away when she instead comes to kneel before him. She curls her arms around his leg, presses her cheek to his thigh as he had done so many times before. The goddess gazes up at him with not just affection… but reverence, as though he were the strongest warrior of myth, deserving of even the love of something only as ethereal and sweet as she could provide.
His breath catches for a mere moment before he lowers himself at her side. The stares exchanged from both are full of an unspoken wonderment, all of the things that words alone would fail to speak in truth.
He waits out the rain there, sat beside her with the air surrounding them charged with such a great and unspoken affection that even Venus would taste a bitter envy on her tongue should she pass by to see.
She tells him she can not recall what she was the goddess of… or if she was ever truly any goddess at all. The marble surrounding her was put up for a purpose, but she’s never seen the Elysian Fields or climbed Olympus on her own. Her memories are scattered blurs, and she confesses that she feels tired when she tries to parse things together in a way that he will understand.
He listens while he tends to her by offering the honey and dried meat left in offering for her here, then fetches fresh water from the stream that brooks several yards away and returns to her side with a face both damp and flushed.
König tells her of his life too, how during every battle since stumbling upon this sacred place he has kept her in mind; he has no wife to return to, no other women to bed, that since their meeting his life has become hers. He confesses he had the intention of returning only to force a curse upon this madness that had enveloped him, but… he could never have brought himself to do so, even if she had not appeared to him warm and breathing.
Her laugh then could have prompted waves of flowers to bloom and birds to sing in tune, whimsical and so precious he only begins to feel himself fall, truly. Not out of sheer desperation, but with genuine affection.
When her exhaustion does take her, she does not mind the way his arm curls around her middle to tuck her body closer to his own. The goddess has no fury within her, only mirrors his own feelings with a fluttering of lashes and a soft sigh.
So she sleeps, pulled close to him like a lover rather than a stranger. When dawn breaks, when König knows he’s to be called back to train and fight with the other soldiers, have dull talks about what land to cross and take for their own next, she tells him she will wait there for his return.
He can not concentrate as well on his training this day. The plans for future wars and battles do not send flurries, hot excitement through him. The world is an endless gray, reflected above with darkened clouds threatening further rain. There is only one place he wishes to be, one that yearns for him more than his own home or the women waiting on the street for coins the other men readily supply. When one, a native Roman, does ask him why he does not just venture to the brothel to put himself in better spirits, König only grits his teeth to still his hand from quieting him eternally. These men knew nothing of the love he feels, and certainly they didn’t deserve to.
The temple is no different from how he found it the night prior. The goddess sits with her hands curled in her lap, smiling just as fondly at him as she had before. His heart shatters at the thought that she had sat there waiting for him in such a way all day. He swears to her that he will have a proper bed made for her, bring her the softest of furs and cushions stuffed with downy feathers to lie upon. For now his offering is only fruit and wine, things that she shares with him while she shushes his concerns with quiet words and gratitude that he had returned.
She lowers herself again before him after pulling her robe free and lying it upon the floor. It is no proper bedding at all, but she swears that it is enough, that his own warmth is just enough for her to be sated and comfortable. His head swims when she kisses his thigh, drags her lips up from his knee to rest there with that reverent look in her eye. Mortals coupling with deities was not unheard of, but to think it could happen to him…
She is a goddess. How is he supposed to… How could he ever dirty her with himself? He thinks to refuse her before she tugs away the barrier of fabric between them and takes him into her mouth. Stunned, he only watches her, feels her in a way he has never felt a woman before until he finds his voice again.
“Lie down,” he breathes, shaky and tentative as he rests his hand upon her cheek. She complies, giddy and content when she’s splayed out on the white robe beneath her, legs parting immediately and her arms reaching upward to invite him into her hold.
There’s no tact when he lies atop her, feels the warmth of her thighs around him and her arms curled over his neck. His forehead is pressed to her own when togetherness is found, and when she sighs so soft as she envelops him in full, his mouth descends upon her own.
She doesn’t praise him, doesn’t need to in words, because the muffled sounds and cries that leave her lips are more than enough to spear him onward. König, however… he babbles ceaselessly, overwhelmed and overcome by such a profound joy, he can not keep himself from reciting every word that comes to mind, whether vile or pure.
“My goddess,” he whispers into her hair, eyes half-lidded and dazed with each shallow thrust. “We could have had this for a season… you have made me wait so long, hm?”
The way she feels is unmatched, he thinks, when her breathing shudders and she only seems to constrict him further. To think he could bring a goddess to ruin… the grin that crosses his face when he pushes his head against her neck is bordering on both ecstatic and cruel.
“I will give you a demigod,” he hisses against her throat, not at all subtle about just how far he was willing to go to keep her here. With him. More than Olympus, she belonged beneath him, and the tremor that wracks her form then is all of the confirmation he would need.
She sobs his name when the tension becomes too much to bear, fingernails graze the flesh of his shoulders as she shudders, falls into such bliss that her words of praise come incoherent and weak. He follows her to a saccharine abyss with a guttural groan.
The aftermath is softer than any other moment he has shared with her. There are an abundance of kisses pressed between them, littered across her flesh and his own with whispers that leave his mind cloudy. Her worship is subtle by comparison to his own, coming in honeyed stares and such words he would never dare to repeat, no lowly poet deserved to ever hear them, their voices could never compare to her own.
The goddess holds him close, bumps his nose with her own and makes a promise; she tells him for as long as he shall live that this temple was as much his home as it were his own. That even when this body of his does die, she will seek him out in the Elysian Fields, lie at his feet as he had done her own; that no matter what may come, they will never be apart.
#könig x reader#konig x reader#storing your other request for now angel! <3#someone kick me and make me write! so sorry to anyone who has sent something in that i have not gotten around to just yet#i see them and i promise i am working through them! my heart soars any time i am entrusted with a König prompt!
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I NEED A NEW POST ASAP 😭😭😭😭
Coming your way! <333
Good News
It was a grueling couple of months for Pablo. You made sure to be besides him through all of it and show your support.
Oftentimes you couldn't do much about the pain but after the long physicals you would cuddle him and play with his hair while he sleeps on your chest.
You also tried to talk to him through more depressive steps where he would watch his old videos with teammates and reminisce of the times he played for Barça.
"I want to go back amor ... I'm lost without them ... and so tired" one night he cried after a very intnse physical feeling his whole body trembling from how much pain he had to push through.
"I know, cariño ...and you will just rest now" you reassured him while he kept swiping through pictures enjoying your hands in his hair.
Today was a talk with his doctors who will give him an approximate return date and Pablo was so nervous about it. It was scheduled for ten in the morning but he was already up at five twisting and turning in bed until you woke up as well.
"Pablo, it's not even morning ...go back to bed cariño porfa" I said and he pulled you closer starting to kiss all over your face not letting you sleep.
"I can't sleep amor ... I'm so anxious!!!" he whined and you giggled opening your eyes and pulling him into a kiss.
"Want me to make some breakfast then?" you ask and he holds you tight not letting you move away from him.
"I want you here with me ... just tell me everything will be fine porfa" he said twirling a piece of your hair around his fingers.
"Of course everything will be fine cariño ... you're recovering nicely and I'm sure it won't be too long until you return to the pitch" you said and he smiled praying to God you were right.
"Thank you, princesa ... what would have I done without you?" he said and you giggled kissing him.
"You wouldn't have anyone to torture at five in the morning!" you said and you both laughed while enjoying your time in bed.
When it was time to leave, Pablo's dad noticed his son's nervousness as he opened his car door.
"Did he sleep at all?" he asked you and you smiled saying he was just a bit anxious but will be better after the meet. You sat besides him holding his hand the whole ride.
Once arrived at the camp, there was a crowd all yelling "good luck Gavi!" while he nodded holding your hand tightly and limping inside carefully. There all his friends waited and gave him a reassuring hug before we were invite into the office with the doctors.
"Let's not crowd the room" the doctor said and you offered staying out but Gavi wouldn't let go of your hand now really starting to panic.
"Can she come inside with me, doctor?" he asked adorably and the older man smiled nodding his head and letting us both in followed by his father.
"First, I want you to know these are good news so don't be nervous" he started and Pablo finally relaxed. The doctor explained that his recovery is moving better than expected and that he will be ready for preseason maybe even earlier.
"So I might play Euros too?" Pablo was already ready to jump back in but doctor told him that would be a cardinal mistake.
"Cariño, remember we need to be patient" you say touching his cheek and he nods still a little disappointed but knowing this was all a blessing.
'You just keep listening to your lovely lady, and you will be back in no time kid" his dad says and Pablo kissed the top of your head lovingly while you smiled with red cheeks.
"I couldn't of done it without her ..." he said and everyone smiled at the two of you while you rested your head on his shoulder thanking God for there good news <333
y.n.bebe
Barcelona, Spain
From being his biggest fan to being his girlfriend ... my champion is coming back in June and I am thanking God for such a blessing every day. Love you, cariño ❤️❤️❤️
comentarios:
pablogavi: i love you mi amor!!!❤️❤️❤️
pedri: welcome back brother!
ansufati: the best!!!
fcbarcelona: waiting for you with open arms gavi❤️
aurorapezg: her love healed him❤️
gavisfans: love them together! come back strong champion
I'm so happy to hear he's coming back stronger! ❤️❤️❤️
#gavigif#gavi#fc barça#fc barca#fc barcelona#pablo gavi x you#pablo gavi x y/n#pablo gavi x reader#pablo gavi icons#pablo gavi#gavi x reader#gavi x you#gavi x yn#pablogavira#pablogavixreadersmut#pablogavixreaderfluff
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Could I request Jing Yuan slowly falling in love with a baker reader who manages to win his heart through the power of delicious baked treats?
Oml thank you so much anon I can finally write a request for my beloved malewife JY. <333
Reader gender: gender neutral
It starts out on a peaceful afternoon. I imagine that no matter how busy the Arbiter-General of the Luofu is, he likes to occasionally take breaks from the Seat of Divine Foresight to take a stroll or visit places on the ship to see how things are going. Despite his fame, I like to think that people have enough respect for their dear general that when he's out on these outings, they'll allow him his privacy.
On these walks, he likes to find something to eat if the timing is right. Seeing as it's just past lunch and he's yet to eat, Jing Yuan supposed it would be good to find somewhere to grab a bite while he was out.
It's then that Jing Yuan stumbles across your bakery. Initially he merely listed it as an option in the back of his mind, filing it away as a new bakery he'd have to try out later or maybe now if none of the other places suited his fancy that day. But then as he began to pass... The smell that wafted out from the door as a smiling customer left the building convinced him to go inside. He was pleased to find that while it did have Xianzhou specialties, it also had foods from beyond the fleet's norm.
Another thing that he was pleasantly surprised with was you, the owner of the bakery. Even with the unspoken rule of allowing the general his leisure time in peace, many would at least gawp at him for a bit before poorly hiding their awe and shock at seeing him in their shop. But you merely waved at him just as you did the customer who'd entered before him. The feeling of being treated just as a normal person was... Very nice. Jing Yuan's ever present smile widened a tad as he nodded to you before going back to perusing the options behind the glass of the counters.
He decided to get a wife cake (sweetheart cake) to enjoy on his way back to his office. The exchange between you two was easy and pleasant. You did your job and nothing more. Though- it was done with a smile and in such a way that he felt quite comfortable.
When he left, he glanced at you again. You were seeing other customers, not sparing him another glance.
Taking a bite of the wife cake, he found that it was better than any he remembered having before and the flavor brought back memories of times gone by. How lovely. Perhaps he'd have to visit your bakery again.
And he certainly did. Over time, the two of you built up a rapport. You were his favorite baker, and he, your loyal customer. Something about your baking made him feel warm inside. When he asked what you did to make them taste so good, you would respond that you baked them in the hopes of each good you sold bringing just a little more joy to the lives of those who ate them. He chuckled and said that it was surprisingly believable.
At some point, he became aware of the fact that the two of you were becomming... quite close. Concerningly so.
I like to think that with the life he's lead and with the personality he has, Jing Yuan is the type of person to give his affections freely. But his trust is hard won. Sitting in the seat of an Arbiter-General, not only has he had to lead troops to victory, but he's had to manuever on the political battlefield as well. After holding his title for longer than most of his peers and having to be the one so plan behind the scenes... Always planning ten steps ahead of everyone else... It would be hard to put his trust in others. Especially when you add on what happened to his old friends. Sometimes, no matter how good he is at what he does, fate will take matters into its own hands.
So when he notices this predicament... he's a bit... afraid, honestly. Huh- The Divine Foresight himself, afraid? It was the truth. He was still mortal and still had his fears and flaws.
Even so, he had no real reason to avoid you. Especially because he thought it would be best to continue as normal so as to not alarm you. You two did have a solid friendship after all this time... As much as you could when he held you at arms length.
Yet there was still tension there. In the brush of fingers when Jing Yuan handed over his payments and when you'd give him what he'd bought. The smiles the two of you would exchange. The heartfelt words that you gave Jing Yuan even when he was trying to keep a firm distance between the two of you. It made him feel a bit guilty for keeping a wall up when you were none the wiser... And perhaps the kicker was the way his heart felt full of warmth when eating the pasteries and other snacks you'd prepared for him specifically that morning, knowing he'd be in. The simple pleasure of always knowing you'd have food he'd more than enjoy ready for him. Knowing that you made it for him. Knowing you cared enough to do so. Knowing how much care and love you put into everything he ate.
And it was a moment like that in which he realized he was already too far gone.
He had been enjoying one of his favorites of yours while sitting in your shop, having enough time that afternoon to do so. He was brought back to memories of his old friends and comrads... And this time. Warm, fond memories of you. That was... new. It was then that he heard your laughter, causing the man to look up as you patted the hand of a woman who was smiling widely at you. She had been thanking you profusely for your help in making her anniversary with her boyfriend so wonderful. They had both loved the pastries and said that it seemed to make their hearts even more filled that day.
Oh.
Oh no.
His eyes crinkled as he felt a smile stretch across his face, unbidden.
He was in love with you.
From that point on, he subtly did what he could to become even closer to you. Let down his walls and allow you in. Just you. He did things to subtly court you, as well. Little gifts here and there that show his sincerety and that he remembered the things you said to him. Sometimes this would include ingredients you needed for the bakery. Eventually, he even gifts you a hairpin (even if you don't have long hair, this is mostly for the symbolism).
It was that gift that made you realize his intentions. It was a quiet morning, even before you opened shop that he stood in the back with you, under the artificial light of the shop and in casual wear due to a day off he took for this. Quietly and softly he told you that he had a gift for you and took your hand gently in his to place the elegant hairpin. He softly closed your hand around it with the hand that had previously been holding the hairpin, your hand and said hairpin held tenderly between his two larger, calloused and scarred hands. When you looked up into his eyes, searching, you saw how they had narrowed and clinkled at the edges with his warm smile. This was not a side of him you'd ever seen before in more than the barest of glimpses.
With a slow grin that he matched when he saw it, you leaned up to wrap your arms around his neck to pull him down into a kiss.
It seemed that not only your food could warm his heart.
Thank you again for the request! Feel free to send in another one~ Especially if it's for JY I love him so so much ijogee I could talk about him for daayyyysssss.
#Roro writes#asks answered#gn reader#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x gn reader#honkai star rail x gn reader#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan x gn reader#MY WIIIIIIFFFEEEEE-#he's my bbgrl my wife my EVERYTHING I LOVE HIM#a-yuan you're so cute ily-
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I can't live like this any longer. PLEASE I NEED YOU TO WRITE NEIGE CONTENT OF ANYTHING PLEASEEEEE
𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 (𝟐)
he takes care of you while you’re sick. (romantic)
author’s note : in addition to neige, i wrote hcs for che’nya and rollo! i love these three so much <333
crowley, crewel, and sam ver. of this prompt here!
neige leblanche
“you really called off a photoshoot just to come take care of me? you know you didn’t have to,” you said, smiling softly. neige shook his head.
“oh, i know, i know. but i just couldn’t help myself. the thought of you being all alone while sick just makes me so sad!” he pouts, taking your hands in his. “so i had to come! now, come on and lay down. take it easy and just leave everything to me! i’ll take good care of you.”
he babies you so hard, it’s to the point you almost feel embarrassed. like, he spoons feed you and everything. but he seems no shame in it!
he also decides to take it upon himself to do all ramshackle’s housekeeping and chores for you. (househusband material, honestly.)
no matter how many times you warn him that your sickness is contagious, he can’t resist giving you little kisses throughout the day. so it was no surprise when he called saying he was sick the next day…
“don’t say you didn’t expect this to happen, neige.”
neige only let out a whine and hid his face in the fluffy pile of blankets you brought him. as much as you wanted to scold him for not listening to your warnings, seeing him in such a pitiful state made it impossible.
you’ll save the lecture for later. for now, you’ll be gentle with him, just like he was with you while you were sick.
che’nya
“oh my, you’re not looking too well!” che’nya chuckles, quirking his head to the side as he looks at you. “well, don’t worry. nurse artemiy artemiyevich pinker is here to help you recover!”
you didn’t have the highest expectations when it came to his caregiving skills, but he actually does really well at taking care of you. he’s very attentive when it comes to your needs. be warned though, he will ask you if you’re feeling better like every 20 minutes just to annoy you.
he’ll exaggerate his cat behaviors to entertain you— and maybe to get you to coo over him being cute. he’ll knead blankets (or perhaps your lap if he wants to rest there instead), bump his head against you, and the like. if you had a cat toy, he’d probably play with it. all without feeling the slightest bit of embarrassment too.
“i’ve gotta ask… did you really come here to take care of me, or was this just an elaborate plan to get me to pet you?” you joked as you scratched behind che’nya’s ears.
“oh no, you’ve caught on! i just came for some pets,” he teased back, purring and leaning into your touch. “— just kidding, of course. hehe.”
you chuckle and lay your head against his chest, listening to the calming sound of his purring as you drift off to sleep.
rollo flamme
you got sick from getting hit by several spells. the perpetrators were none other than ace and deuce, whose fight you accidentally got caught in the crossfire of. (they’ve apologized to you over ten times for this..)
with all the chaos that’s been thrown your way so far, you hardly cared. this is just another tuesday at nrc for you. but you know who did care? rollo.
needless to say, he was not happy to hear of this situation. it’s only served to support his resolve of wanting to eradicate magic.
he tries to hide his anger about the context of how you got sick… and he doesn’t do a good job at it. you’ll look at him once in a while and his face will be twisted up in a scowl. or sometimes you’ll hear him muttering under his breath about “vile reckless mages…” and the like.
knowing how no-nonsense he is, you were a bit nervous about being in his care. but he ended up being a lot more gentle with you than you expected! (… he still made you study though. no falling behind in school on his watch.)
just like neige, he took it upon himself to do all the housekeeping for you. and you swear, you’ve never seen ramshackle so spotless. rollo does not play when it comes to cleanliness.
you watch in amusement as ace and deuce desperately try to convince rollo to let them enter your dorm. rollo is not even slightly swayed by their pleas, standing his ground on not letting them step foot in ramshackle.
“you two are the reason the prefect is ill in the first place. you’ve proven yourselves to be dangerous. i will not take the risk of letting you miscreants in and causing any more trouble for them.” rollo glares down at the pair, getting ready to shut the door on them. you quietly laugh at how protective he’s being.
you walk over to rollo, gently pulling him away from the door to let ace and deuce in. “come on, rollo. let them in. i’m sure they’ll be on their best behavior, especially with you here watching them like a hawk.”
rollo sighs and finally relaxes. “hmph… fine.”
#gn reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twisted wonderland#twst#neige x reader#che’nya x reader#rollo x reader
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Those Sunlit Kisses
part 2 here ! part 3 here! and part 4 here!
pairing: robert 'rosie' rosenthal x oc (lucy everett)
tw: mentions of war, alcohol drinking, death, mentions of nazis and hitler, domestic fluff, flirting, kissing, angsty ending-ish
description: a young man and woman meet while they're on a forced break and end up spending a weekend together.
a/n: so... this fic has sort of invaded my life these last few days and it's longer than i thought it would be (12k is insane). i've sort of become attached to it in a weird way ??? idk when you write something as a coping mechanism it sticks with you. i sort of have a plan for how this universe will work so there will probably be a few little fics that happen within it, look out for those! also this was lowkey inspired by before sunrise (haven't watched it but i've seen enough edits) and since we know real rosie fell in love and married his wife within like 3 days this is hopefully not all that ooc. ANYWAYS i hope you enjoy this and pls let me know your thoughts or if you want to send in any asks about lucy they are all welcome in my inbox! OH and this isn't about the real rosie, just the fictional character portrayed by nate mann (*swoon*). and to cut off this insanely long author's note, thank you for reading <333
Rosie rested his head against the cool window, the train was hot. It was almost too hot. How Britain had turned from a pea soup to a tropical country is beyond him. He had been forced to take leave… again. So he booked a little place by the beach, far away from basically everything and he felt tentatively excited.
The thin pages of The Great Gatsby turned in his hands, it almost felt too sticky to read but he hadn’t brought anything else with him, and he didn’t feel content by just looking out of the window.
Rosie didn’t like to take breaks but he knew he needed one after the last mission. His new crew was almost too different. He never faulted anyone for not reuping but it was still strange. So after another successful ten missions he was sent off. At least he wasn’t sent to the Flak House again.
The train finally ambled to a stop and Rosie caught a glimpse of the town name, this was his stop. Quickly grabbing the sparse luggage he had brought with him, Rosie walked off the train and onto the tiny platform. The loud whistle made him jump as the train started to move away.
At least he was finally here.
Lucy was daydreaming again. The taste of pencil filled her mouth as she nervously bit down on the wood. She was feeling better, better than she had in a while but she still felt like she was missing, well, everything.
She had just spent the past few weeks researching and slaving over an article on Hitler’s propaganda and it was a good article. Maybe even a great one, but the years spent working on articles about that vile monster were taking their toll on her.
Lucy could distinctly remember when her editor called her into his office after she had snapped at one of the top correspondents who made a comment about women belonging in the kitchen.
“I can’t have this anymore. Do you understand what I’m risking by even having a woman on my team? You may be good, but you’re not that good. Now take a damn break before I have to bar you from this bloody office!”
She understood that it was for her own good but his words stung. It irked her that a man was making her take a break when he would let any of her male counterparts strut around doing whatever they pleased and yelling at secretaries.
So Lucy booked a ticket and left on the afternoon train headed for her hometown. A place almost completely untouched by war… at least for now. She had spent the first few days in bed, trying to recover from the complete exhaustion that five years of war had wrought on her. Lucy also spent that time remembering.
Her parents had died a few months before Hitler invaded Poland. They passed away within weeks of each other in the same house that Lucy was in now. She was almost glad that they didn’t have to experience another war, even if she missed them more than she could handle sometimes.
Her father had risen through the ranks in the Great War, eventually becoming a Colonel and earning a few medals for his service. Lucy’s mother was a singer, she had met and fallen in love with John Everett during one of her performances when she caught his eye from across the room. Diana Everett always insisted it was love at first sight.
They were loving parents and did what they could to make Lucy’s childhood a happy one. Always aiding her in any of her hobbies, and allowing her to pursue her dream of becoming a journalist, even at a time when women were expected to go into gentler trades.
Lucy’s father was the one to die first, he had had a bad cough when Lucy first left for London and that quickly evolved into something worse. Lucy was able to make it back for the funeral and she spent the next few weeks watching as her mother became a shell of herself. One day she just found her mother lying in bed clutching a photo of her late husband and no longer breathing.
The doctors said she died of a heart attack but Lucy knew it was from a broken heart. The entire experience nearly shattered Lucy, she barely cried at either funeral and threw herself into her work, slowly getting more and more recognition for her radical articles informing the British people about the Nazis and Hitler.
But during those first few days at her childhood home, Lucy finally allowed herself to crack. She spent hours writing in her personal diary and crying more tears than she thought possible. Until Friday, when she finally made the decision to pull herself together, she still felt lost but at least she was writing something other than distressing poetry.
So now Lucy sat at her desk, the end of a pencil resting on her lips and the start of a rough outline of a story in front of her. It was a new day.
The smell of the sea filled Rosie’s senses, it felt strange to be walking through a town that looked normal, with no gaping wounds left by bombings. It gave him a renewed sense of duty, places like this needed to be kept safe from the monsters.
He had rented a little room in a B&B ten minutes from the beach. It was nestled between two colorful houses, one painted light green and the other white with a wash of blue. He overheard the sounds of jazz echoing from the blue one, and the soft tones of a woman singing along.
Rosie’s face broke out into a smile and he started humming before looking back at the B&B and heading into the cozy atmosphere. An old woman with a cheerful smile greeted him and took one look at his uniform before upgrading him to one of the larger rooms. He thanked her profusely before heading up the creaking staircase and depositing his luggage onto the quilt-covered bed.
After a few hours of work on the short story, Lucy needed a break and the outside was calling to her. Boiling some water in her favorite kettle, she put on a record and started to hum and eventually sing to one of her mum’s favorite songs.
Once the water was boiled, Lucy carefully went through the motions of pouring it over the Earl Gray leaves in the teapot and letting it steep for a while before straining it into a cup and pouring a splash of milk over it. All the while singing just like her mother used to do when she prepared tea for her.
Armed with a book and a steaming cup of tea, Lucy opened the front door of the house and sat on the porch swing. Carefully placing the cup on the side table and opening up the first pages of her book, Lucy looked around at the front garden. She could almost hear the sounds of joyful laughter and screams from her childhood when she used to play with the neighborhood kids on that very lawn.
With her bare feet up on the porch swing and the milky goodness of tea in her mouth, Lucy started to read the first pages of The Great Gatsby, and settled in for a book she had been waiting too long to read.
Rosie had changed into his civies before grabbing a spare towel and his book. He had to stop the owner for directions to the beach but other than that he was excited to see the ocean, and experience the sun for the first time in a long while.
As he headed down the street he was surprised to find a woman sitting on the porch of the blue house he had seen earlier. Her blonde hair was curled around her face and she was wearing an outfit similar to his own - a blue button down shirt and loose black pants. In her hands was a copy of a book that was identical to one he held in his hand.
All Rosie could think about was that she was beautiful. He was openly gaping in the middle of a sidewalk because a woman he didn’t even know had completely enraptured him. Shaking himself out of his reverie after he realized just how long he had been staring at her, he was almost tempted to say something, anything. Just to have her look at him.
He just couldn’t get his mouth to form the words. Rosie had always been a shy person, especially as a kid but it seemed like all those years of shyness were finally catching up to him. So instead of saying anything, Rosie just turned and walked over to the beach. His knuckles clenched around his own copy of The Great Gatsby, imagining the ways that he could approach the beautiful woman of the blue house and how the conversation would go.
Maybe he could ask her about the book, or the music streaming out of her window. Maybe he could ask her out to dinner or… suddenly Rosie’s thought process stopped short when he had the awful realization that the woman could be married. He hadn’t even realized he had made it to the beach when the sand crunched under foot and he was thrown off balance. Taking a few moments to steady himself he walked along until he found a sand dune that looked nice enough. All the while thinking of all the ways the blonde beauty could reject him.
Rosie had now convinced himself it would be the worst idea on Earth to even approach her, so he settled onto his blanket and cracked open his book. Allowing for the sun to finally seep into his pores and getting lost in the pages of Gatsby’s own romantic woes.
After all the tea was drunk and Lucy had gotten through quite a bit of The Great Gatsby, she decided to get back to writing. Instead of going inside Lucy quickly grabbed a picnic blanket and spread it out in the front lawn. The outline for her short story was coming along nicely and she needed sun after spending the last five years under a constant cover of smog and rain in London.
She also managed to make a couple of sandwiches to serve as her lunch and spread herself out onto the soft fabric of the blanket. Squinting her eyes in the sun she started to elaborate a bit more on the brother in her story, ruminating about how she would have loved to have siblings.
Once she had completed half of the outline, Lucy’s eyes travelled from the cream page to the sidewalk, where a few mothers were milling around with their children. Pushing them in prams or trying to balance picnic baskets and food as the kids ran circles around them. A warm smile spread itself across Lucy’s face, this town was like her little corner of heaven.
It was mid afternoon when she first spotted him, Lucy had abandoned her writing a while ago in favor of people watching and basking in the rays of sun. She could have gone to the beach, but she couldn’t be bothered to move from her lawn where the sun was hitting just right.
The man looked about her age, he was wearing civilian clothes but he had an air about him that made Lucy think he was at least part of some branch of the military. He had dark curly hair and a mustache and he looked like an angel sent down from heaven. In his hand, Lucy spied a copy of the very book sitting next to her and a towel covered in sand. He must have been at the beach.
Lucy knew she was blatantly staring but he was just so pretty. She was used to the men that made up her London office, balding and sexist, who flirted with her like she was an object to be used. So whenever she ventured out into the real world Lucy was basically set in a tailspin by the array of people that interested her, and for some reason this strange man made her heart skip a beat.
Almost like she had wished it to happen, the man caught her stare and smiled shyly. Bringing up his free hand in an awkward wave. Cute. In return, Lucy beamed at him and waved back, before quickly grabbing her copy of The Great Gatsby and lifting it up.
Rosie headed back from the beach feeling renewed, and he was also hopeful that he might get another glance at the beautiful blonde from the blue house. Ever lost in his thoughts, Rosie didn’t even realize he was on the sidewalk that led to his B&B until he caught the glance of the woman from the porch… except this time she was lying on a blanket in the middle of the yard.
He smiled at her when he realized she was staring at him, at him! Then he did the stupidest thing he could think of and waved. Rosie started to berate himself for how idiotic he was being when the blonde waved back and smiled at him with a smile that had his breath catching.
A moment later she held up her book, a copy of which he was also carrying, and he smiled even more broadly.
“Good book?” She called out to him with a voice that reminded him of the movies. A crisp British accent laced with laughter.
“It sure is.” Rosie answered, almost feeling slightly ashamed of his American accent which sounded so much more grating in comparison to hers.
“I’m Lucy!” The woman said, standing up and brushing herself off as she walked over to the whitewashed fence so she was now only a meter away from Rosie. How he wished she was even closer.
“I’m Rosie.”
“Ah, an American. I knew it!” Rosie blushed and ducked his head in embarrassment. “Hey! I never said it was a bad thing. It’s nice to meet you, Rosie. You have a pretty accent.”
“I think that’s the first time one of you Brits has ever said that to me.”
“We haven’t been very welcoming, have we? Well that must be remedied instantly! How have you been enjoying good ol’ Britain?” Rosie felt like he was watching a band play the most incredible set, Lucy talked like she could charm the entire air force in just seconds.
“First time I’ve seen the sun in years.” Rosie said, exaggerating the comment by squinting at her, making Lucy laugh - the sound making a blush spread across Rosie’s face, he wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life.
“You and me both. I like to think of it as one of Britain's charms but it does get rather melancholic, don’t you think? Where are you usually stationed, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Thorpe Abbotts, I’m one of the pilots.”
“A fighter pilot?”
“Oh dear God no. I pilot B-17s.”
“Ah the big birds, that suits you better I would say.” Rosie inclined his head in agreement which had Lucy smiling at him.
“I’m a war correspondent - although I haven’t been on the front lines quite yet. My editor still has rather old-fashioned beliefs about women and war.” Lucy’s eyes dimmed at the last part which had Rosie wincing.
“They should feel lucky to have you, not the other way around.” Blush covered Lucy’s cheeks at his statement and Rosie felt himself smile triumphantly.
“Oh you charmer. Would you like to come in for some tea or water, maybe?”
“That would be wonderful.”
Lucy felt a certain giddiness encasing her body, she never did this. She never invited strange men, albeit handsome strange men, into her home and yet she was doing this. At least he didn’t seem like an axe murderer, and he was an American! Mostly she was just trying to overcome the nerves of having someone she actually liked showing interest in her.
Rosie quickly followed her into the house, helping her carry the picnic blanket she had been using as well as all her writing materials. So he truly was a gentleman after all.
The record had stopped spinning a while ago so when Lucy saw Rosie eying the player she quickly took the blanket and papers out of his hands.
“Why don’t you put on some music? I need to put these things away anyways.”
“Are you sure?”
“Go right ahead.” Rosie smiled gratefully and walked over to the record player, Lucy watched him flick through the various options and let herself smile. She needed some good in her life, she was going to let herself have this, even if it’s only for a few hours.
Turning around, Lucy folded the blanket and set it on one of the wooden chairs by the door, placing the book on top of it before bounding over to the study and placing the sheets of paper into a neat pile next to the typewriter. The sounds of Artie Shaw suddenly filled the atmosphere and Lucy quickly walked back over to the living room, making the creaks of the wooden floor boards alert her presence.
Lucy found Rosie staring out of the window and tapping on the frame in time with the music. He looked completely lost in thought that Lucy almost felt bad disturbing him.
“Rosie?”
“Hmm?”
“Water?”
“I would love some.” Rosie said as he turned from the window and smiled at Lucy, her nerves of bothering him dissipating in an instant when he set his gray eyes on hers. “Do you need any help getting it?”
“No, just keep choosing good music and we should be fine.” Lucy turned to get to the kitchen and grabbed a few glasses as Rosie trailed in behind her. Leaning against the door frame as he watched her move around the kitchen.
“You have a great collection.”
“That would be my parents’ accomplishment. They drilled good music taste into me.” Lucy said with a sad smile on her face as she poured out some water from one of the pitchers.
“My mom was the same way. The one problem is that I am in no way musically inclined, I just know what sounds good.”
“Have you tried to sing?” Lucy asked with a teasing smile as she passed him the glass.
“Oh I have, you do not want to be there when that happens.”
“How bad?”
“Horrifying. I sound like a dying goat.” They both burst out laughing and Lucy felt a warm feeling spread through her limbs, it almost felt like she was being doused in joy.
“I cannot wait for the day when I hear you sing.”
“Why? So you can ridicule me? That will not be happening in a million years, ma’am.”
“I would never ridicule you! How can you think so lowly of me?”
“I barely even know you-”
“Exactly.” Lucy interrupted with a serious look on her face that had Rosie chuckling again. They quieted down into a comfortable silence as they each took little sips of water every now and then, just watching the way the other person reacted.
“How are you liking the book?” Rosie finally asked.
“I’m enjoying it, it isn’t the kind of book I usually pick up but it’s a nice reminder of a time when war wasn’t a part of daily life. I do have to say though, you Americans are quite strange.”
“I feel like I should rebuke that but it’s the truth. Doesn’t it almost feel like the book was set in a completely different world?”
“Yes!” Lucy fervently agreed as they started to drift back towards the living room, settling into the worn couch.
Over the next few hours, Lucy and Rosie inched closer and closer together on the couch. They talked about everything under the sun; their lives, their favorite books, pictures, music, war and their lives before it all. Lucy let Rosie take charge of the music and their conversation was soundtracked by various jazz hits and whatever obscure artist Rosie seemed to find fascinating in her collection.
Eventually the conversation turned to family and Lucy avidly started to talk about her parents, a subject which she almost never discussed with anyone she had just met.
“So yeah my mum met my dad at one of the pubs she was performing at and the rest is history.”
“Well now I have to get you to sing, it must run in the family! And it’s only fair.”
“Hey! That was a joke.” Lucy screeched, she never liked singing in front of other people she preferred doing it in the comfort of her own home and doing it alone.
“Aha so you do admit you were trying to ridicule me!” Rosie said triumphantly as he pointed at Lucy, making her face twist in complete disbelief.
“That is what you got from that?”
“Well it’s the truth isn’t it?”
“It is not! And I will not sing for you.”
“One day you will.”
“Will not.”
“Will.”
“You stupid, stubborn man.” Lucy said poking at Rosie’s shoulder, making him devolve into hysterics which had Lucy smiling stupidly at the man in front of her. The butterflies in her stomach hadn’t really gone away the entire time she had been talking to him, they had somehow managed to get worse.
That was when she realized how late it had gotten, the sun was just beginning to set and the living room was set alight with the glowing colors of the sky.
“Oh dear, I have kept you too late. You don’t have somewhere to be, do you?” Lucy asked nervously, once Rosie had started to calm down.
“No, no, not at all. I didn’t have much time to make any plans before I came here.”
“Well in that case how would you like to have dinner with me?” Lucy didn’t show it but she was practically buzzing with nerves - hoping and praying that he would say yes.
“Are you kidding?” Rosie was looking at Lucy with a completely gobsmacked expression on his face that had Lucy wondering if he truly thought she was messing with him.
“Not at all.”
“Well, in that case, I would love to have dinner with you.”
“Uh- wonderful. I haven’t cooked anything so you wouldn’t mind going out, do you?”
“Of course not, it would be a good opportunity to explore the town.”
“I’ll just grab my coat and we can go?” Lucy asked tentatively and Rosie nodded before settling back into the couch. Lucy yelled out a quick ‘I’ll be right back’ and disappeared into the hallways of the house.
Rosie felt like he was in paradise. Who would have known that going on mandatory leave would get him this? He wasn’t sure he had ever bonded with someone as quickly as he had bonded with Lucy. It was as if they were twin souls, linked so that it was inevitable that they would meet at one point or another.
The light in the living room changed as the sun started to set, it played with the shadows on the walls and highlighted the framed photographs and art which told a story of a happy childhood and a happy family. It reminded him of his own childhood home. Rosie hadn’t even realized how much he had missed laughing. Something that suddenly just became so easy around Lucy.
Rosie had to give it to his self-restraint, he somehow managed not to kiss Lucy even though many a time in the past few hours he fantasized of brushing his hands through her blonde curls and kissing her like his life depended on it.
“Rosie? Do you want me to find you a coat?” A muffled yell was heard from somewhere upstairs which had him looking up towards the ceiling.
“No, I think I should be fine!” Rosie yelled back.
“Are you sure? I can probably find something that fits you.”
“I’m sure it’s not that cold, Lucy.”
“Okay! Don’t go around blaming me when you’re freezing to death.”
Shaking his head in mock resolution and quietly chuckling, Rosie stood up from his place on the green couch and went to pick up his copy of The Great Gatsby and the towel he had brought with him all those hours ago. But he stopped short when he saw Lucy’s own copy haphazardly strewn on one of the wooden chairs that seemed to be scattered throughout the house. With a sly smile, Rosie left the book and walked towards the front door, empty handed.
“Hi! Sorry that took so long. My hair was a mess, are you ready?” Lucy quickly said as she basically ran down the stairs, a motion that had Rosie’s hair raising in alarm - worried that she would somehow trip and fall to a quick death.
“You’re going to crack your head open one of these days if you keep going down stairs that quickly.” Rosie said when she finally reached the bottom and went to grab her purse from the side table.
“I know those stairs like the back of my hand, Rosie. If I ever trip and fall I’m blaming your handsome face.” Rosie made an expression of mock horror, but inside he felt like a stupid teenager.
“I’m offended by such an allegation. It would be your fault for getting distracted.” Lucy hummed back in mock reply before opening the door and walking out into the brisk night air, which had Rosie quickly following after her.
“Milady.” Rosie said, as he offered his arm to Lucy once she had shut and locked the door. Lucy beamed at him before slipping her arm around his, physically linking them together.
“Alright, I know this little Italian place that a friend’s family owns. How does that sound?”
“Perfect. I’ve been eating army rations for the past few years, anything that isn’t that sounds incredible.”
The pair roamed through the cobbled streets, in search of the little alleyway that housed the restaurant and basking in each other’s presence. When they finally arrived at the quaint little restaurant, Rosie was surprised to see that there were various other couples seated and eating Italian dishes.
“Lucy! You didn’t tell us you were back in town.” Said a voice from behind the counter, it belonged to a tall, brunette woman whose hair was tied back into an elaborate bun.
“Hi, Renata! Yeah, sorry, this was a last minute thing. How have you been?”
“Good, good. Now who is this handsome man?”
“Major Rosenthal, ma’am.”
“How did you bag this one, Lucy?” The brunette asked, making a blush creep up over both of Lucy and Rosie’s faces.
“Renata…”
“Fine! I won’t ask anymore questions. A table for two, I presume? We have a nice one close to the back.”
“That sounds great.”
Rosie spent the next hour eating the best spaghetti he had ever eaten and staring at the woman he seemed to be quickly falling in love with. They seemed to never run out of topics of conversation, cycling through enough to fill an entire encyclopedia. Rosie learnt a lot more about the British news field than he had ever thought was possible and in turn Lucy seemed enraptured whenever he talked about flying.
They stayed until it was almost closing time,when Renata basically pushed them out and gave them a complimentary bottle of wine, which had Lucy blushing in embarrassment and Rosie laughing. Somehow the night air was still warm, even though the sun had long set and the world had started to fall asleep.
“I’m glad I met you Rosie.” Lucy finally ventured, after they had been walking for a while in complete silence. Just letting the energy of the day seep in.
“Me too. I never in a million years would have thought I would meet someone like you.”
“You really do have a way with words, Major. Have you ever thought of becoming a poet?”
“I will leave all the writing to you, sweetheart.”
“This is it.” Lucy muttered once they had arrived back at the blue house at the end of the street.
“And that would be me.” Rosie said, pointing at the B&B next to the house.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“You can bet on it, Lucy.”
“Great.” Lucy whispered the first word as Rosie started to move closer and closer to her. He felt a wave of dizziness hit him, but he carefully placed both of his hands on her cheeks and stroked the soft skin.
“I’m really glad I met you too, Lucy.” Rosie muttered before surging forward and finally doing what he had been meaning to do for the past few hours. He kissed her with such intensity that it caught Lucy off guard. She stood still for a few moments before kissing him back with the same intensity and love that he was emphasizing in that kiss.
Lucy tangled her hands in his brown curls and felt the world just go still. For the first time in a long while. They stayed like that, kissing and holding each other until they heard the distant sounds of a baby crying.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Rosie asked once they broke apart.
“I’ll be waiting.”
Lucy basically screeched in happiness once she had shut the door behind her. She finally understood what her mum was talking about when she talked about love at first sight. Rosie was her dream man, someone she didn’t even realize she had been looking for.
After carefully putting everything away and changing into her nightgown, Lucy settled into the comfort of her own bed and started to write lines upon lines about Rosie. She had filled up nearly two pages of her diary when her eyelids began to droop. It was almost midnight and she needed to be refreshed for tomorrow so she quickly signed off and pulled the covers over her body - allowing for sleep to pull her into its warm embrace.
The morning sun streamed through her window and softly woke Lucy up. Her relaxed joints groaned as she stretched and enjoyed the feeling of summer and sleep on her skin. Yesterday morning seemed like a distant memory. The darkness that usually invaded her waking hours felt almost less. Lucy had an excited thrill running through her body as she stretched.
Urging herself out of bed, Lucy slipped a robe over her nightgown and tied the sashes together loosely. The stairs creaked as her socked feet went down them and she was reminded of Rosie and his little comment about being careful. It was almost like this house was being reawakened with memories of the living, instead of being haunted by the ghosts of the past.
Once she arrived at the kitchen, Lucy started to go through her morning motions. Brewing a cup of Earl Gray tea, toasting some bread and starting to fry up some eggs. She was in the middle of beating the eggs together when a loud knock echoed through the house.
“There is no way that could be Rosie… could it?” Lucy wondered aloud, as she dried her hands on a tea towel and headed to answer the door. She turned the handle and pulled the door open to find that it was indeed Rosie. He was standing on the porch in civilian clothes again, his hair seemed a little less ordered than it was the day before and the morning sun was carefully lighting his face.
Lucy’s face broke out into a smile and Rosie returned it, before he carefully scanned her up and down and realized she was still in her nightgown. It was a long lacy and cotton thing that was only slightly covered by her robe. A light blush dusted his cheeks as he tried to focus on her face.
“Good morning. I hope I’m not disturbing…”
“Not all! Come, come. I’m just making breakfast.” Lucy stepped from out of the door frame, allowing for Rosie to walk into the house. She smiled and tried to contain her excitement as she focused on closing the door.
“Have you had anything to eat yet?” Lucy asked once she turned around and saw that Rosie was looking at her, he had a twinkle in his eye that wasn’t there a moment before and it made a surge of electricity run up her spine.
“I had some things at the B&B.”
“Alright, can I interest you in a cup of tea then?”
“Actually…” Rosie took a step closer to Lucy, making her raise her eyebrows in question. “I think I would like to do this first.”
Rosie pushed a stray curl away from her face and tucked it behind her ear before gently pressing his lips to hers. Lucy’s eyelids fell shut and she threw her arms around his neck, allowing herself to be swept away by the sensation. Once they drew apart, Lucy scrunched her nose up and looked at the handsome man in front of her.
“Well aren’t you presumptuous? Coming all the way here in the early morning just to kiss me.”
“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I met you, I think it was warranted.” Rosie said with a shrug as he looked at Lucy adoringly, stroking his knuckles against the apple of her cheek.
“Flirt.”
“You love it.”
“I’m not gracing that with a response, now come. I don’t want my tea to get cold.” Lucy entwined her hand with his and started to pull Rosie in the direction of the kitchen, he was all too happy to follow her command.
Rosie watched from one of the wooden chairs as Lucy busied herself with making breakfast. She was as graceful as a dancer, she seemed to have the routine nailed down to a ‘T’.
“Here.” Lucy said, as she carefully placed a cup of steaming hot tea in front of Rosie. “Let me know what you think.”
Rosie gingerly rose the mug to his lips and blew on the milky liquid. It smelled incredible, he usually just drank the weak coffee at base but this smelt like something out of a bakery. Then he took a sip and instead of tasting something incredible, it almost tasted flat. In an effort to not disappoint the woman in front of him, Rosie forced a smile and fake hummed in delight.
“You hate it.” Lucy said with a laugh, which instantly had Rosie’s façade falling and he too was laughing.
“I’m an American, what can I say?”
“I’ll excuse it. Here I just finished mine so I can drink the rest. No need for it to go to waste.” Lucy placed her hands over his and Rosie felt the familiar spark in his body that was elicited by being able to touch her. His beautiful Lucy.
“I’m sorry.” Rosie said once Lucy started to take moderated sips of the beverage.
“Don’t apologize, I, for one, hate the taste of coffee so I think we can move on from this.” Rosie’s face turned scandalized for a moment but he quickly schooled his expression and nodded seriously, making Lucy snort and continue drinking her tea before turning to stir the eggs in the frying pan.
“Are you sure you’re not hungry?”
“Yes. Mrs. Sloane gave me plenty.” Rosie distinctly remembered the large feast the owner had prepared, it was almost too much to handle but she had been intent on doing it so he didn’t stop her.
“She’s wonderful, isn’t she? She used to babysit me when I was younger. I was supposedly a very difficult child.” Lucy muttered as she plated her breakfast and sat across from Rosie at the breakfast table.
“I don’t believe that, you seem like an angel.”
“Oh no I was very much a devil child. The amount of times I was lost in the sand dunes is beyond count.” Rosie guffawed and watched Lucy as she scooped up pieces of scrambled eggs with her unbuttered toast.
“Did you sleep well?”
“I did, you?” Lucy asked, after taking a few bites of her toast. Rosie nodded and stretched over the table to tuck an errant curl behind her ear, seeing as a light blush covered Lucy’s face.
“Do you have any plans for today?”
“Nope. I was going to write but I think there is something else I would much rather be doing.”
“And what would that be?” Rosie asked with a smirk starting to spread across his face, he liked getting to tease her. To see what he could say to get Lucy all flustered.
“You’re really going to make me say it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Fine, Major. I want to spend it with you.” Lucy said quickly, relenting under Rosie’s teasing glare.
“Good, because I have no plans.”
“Great.” Lucy nodded resolutely and then stood up to put the dishes in the sink. Rosie watched her as the fabric of her robe swayed around her. He stood up from his seat and walked up behind her, carefully placing his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her head.
“Hello there?”
“You look beautiful.”
“Do I?”
“Hmmm.”
“Rosie, I need to wash the dishes.”
“Just stay with me for a moment, then you can wash the dishes.” Lucy turned around so Rosie was staring into those deep brown eyes he loved.
“What are we doing, Rosie?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean with us. I’m assuming you will have to leave soon and I have to get back to London. I want this to be good but I can’t- I don’t deal well with loss, Rosie.” Lucy muttered, making Rosie’s heart almost break in half. He stood slightly speechless for a few moments as Lucy took to rearranging his hair. Rosie hadn’t even realized that this would all end soon. He didn’t realize he would have to leave her so soon.
“We’ll write and I promise I will do everything in my power to keep coming back. I want whatever this is, Lucy. Darling, I haven’t felt like this ever. I don’t want to lose you, even if I have just met you.”
“So we do this. We promise we will come back to each other.”
“Yes. And I get to call you mine.”
“Rosie, I- alright. Let’s do this. I’m in.”
“Good, because I was all in the moment I saw that beautiful face from across the lawn.” Lucy giggled and suddenly rested her head against his chest. Rosie was sure she could feel the thudding of his heart, so he wrapped her up in his arms and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Lucy’s arms circled his middle and they stayed like that for a few long moments.
“What do you want to do today?” Rosie heard Lucy mutter against the fabric of his shirt, her hot breath making shivers run up his spine.
“Whatever you would like.”
“Does a picnic sound nice?”
“That sounds lovely.” Lucy started to unwind her arms and Rosie already started to miss the weight of her against him.
“I would need to get changed.” Rosie watched Lucy motioned at her clothes and smiled at the devastated expression on his face.
“Do you really?”
“Yes, you menace!” Rosie laughed at the scandalized expression on Lucy’s face.
“Fine, fine. I’ll start on the dishes.”
“Rosie… you don’t have to.”
“I want to. Now shoo, before I don’t let you get dressed.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“Watch me.” Rosie said, ducking his head so he was looking at Lucy through his eyebrows. She just rolled her eyes and pulled herself away from his arms, but not before giving him a quick peck on the cheek. Rosie smiled as he watched her walk away from him, he knew he was beyond smitten.
Lucy was desperately searching for something to wear when the sounds of Ella Fitzgerald filtered in from downstairs. Rosie had put on music, and she could distantly hear him humming to himself over the rush of water.
Staring at the closer, Lucy realized that all her clothes suddenly seemed too ugly to work, she wanted to dress up enough that she looked nice but also didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard. Why is this so complicated?
Huffing, Lucy finally pulled out a dark pink dress she hadn’t worn since before the war. It was made of cotton and she knew it looked good on her… five years ago. There was no fault in trying it on so Lucy quickly changed out of her nightgown and buttoned up the cotton dress up. Fluffing up her curls, Lucy carefully folded the strewn clothes and arranged the closet.
She knew she was probably just trying to procrastinate going downstairs when Lucy started to smooth out the fabric of her dress for the fifth time.
“Deep breaths. It will be fine.” Lucy firmly nodded in resolution before opening the door of her bedroom and walking out.
Rosie was finishing drying the dishes when Lucy walked in, she watched as he stared out of the kitchen window absentmindedly humming to the music and drying one of the mugs.
“How do sandwiches sound?” Lucy finally asked as she pulled the old fridge door open, trying to find if she had enough things to make a suitable lunch.
“That sounds great. You don’t mind that I used the record player?”
“Darling, you are free to use that whenever you please.” Lucy reassured him as she emerged from the fridge holding a parcel of cheese and various pieces of produce. Her heart seemed to stop when she saw how he was looking at her. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“No really, why are you staring at me like that?”
“You look like a vision.” Lucy ducked her head to stop Rosie from seeing her cheeks flaming bright red.
“Thank you.” Lucy placed the food on the cutting board and started to cut up the cheese into slices to go on the bread.
“You don’t take compliments well, do you?”
“I’m British, what do you expect?” Lucy said as she looked at Rosie over her shoulder, repeating the same words he had said to her. He had finished drying the dishes a while ago and now he was leaning on the counter with his arms crossed. The morning sun hit his face just right and Lucy was wondering how he had become a pilot when he clearly could have been put into major motion pictures.
Lucy turned back to the task at hand with a smile on her face, the song on the record player suddenly changed and Lucy started to hum in tune with the music.
She quickly finished making the sandwiches and ordered Rosie to try and find the basket that she had stowed away in the hall closet. When he returned, Rosie was also carrying the picnic blanket from the day before.
“Thought we might need this.”
“Perfect, you can set it- uh Rosie?” Lucy found herself being spun around and into Rosie’s arms. They were swaying in time with the music and she found herself looking at the man in front of her with a questioning look in her eyes.
“This song can’t not be danced to. And you look too beautiful for me not to take this opportunity.” Rosie said as he brought Lucy closer to him, leaning his forehead against hers.
“You need to stop that.”
“What? Saying the truth?”
“Rosie…”
“Nope, not taking requests. You’re stuck with me.”
“Oh God.” Lucy groaned in mock anguish and rested her head on his shoulder, feeling as he tightened his hold on her.
Once everything was packed and ready, Rosie found himself carrying the picnic basket in one hand and holding Lucy’s hand in the other. She truly looked like some kind of angel sent from heaven. Her blonde curls bounced as she walked and excitedly explained random bits of history or childhood stories about different areas of the town.
Supposedly they were on the way to one of the little alcoves that was the perfect picnic spot according to Lucy, but Rosie just felt happy to be around her. He still didn’t truly understand how exactly he had found Lucy. He could clearly imagine what would have happened if he never took leave, he would be going up again and would have never known about the blonde spitfire who hated compliments and lived in a blue house by the beach.
God, he can almost picture Crosby’s face when he tells him that he found a girl while on leave. That is going to be something that he would never want to miss.
“So tell me about you now, I think I’ve rambled on long enough.” Lucy said, as she beamed at Rosie, bumping her shoulder against his.
“You know almost everything about me, darling.”
“There has to be something. A dirty secret, perhaps?”
“No, no. Nothing of the sort.”
“Alright fine, Saint Rosie.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Any dirty secrets.”
“Hmm, a few, but my lips are sealed.”
“Now that’s unfair.”
“It is not!”
They continued on like that for a while longer, until both Rosie and Lucy had started to feel tiny pangs of hunger in their stomachs. The sun was shining brightly as they continued to walk on the beach, Lucy still intent on finding the cove she used to go to.
“Aha! There it is. I told you, my parents used to take me here when I was a kid.”
Lucy unlaced her hand from Rosie’s and he watched her as she ran across the sand, twirling and laughing like she had just won the lottery. A feeling of complete happiness and joy spread through Rosie’s limbs and he carefully placed the picnic basket on the sand, running after Lucy. Once he reached her he pulled her into his arms and twirled her around. Their laughter quickly filled the cove with joy it hadn’t witnessed in a while.
They had calmed down after a while and Rosie quickly helped Lucy set up the picnic. The ginger beer somehow still cool to the touch after being carried under the sun for a while.
Once everything was ready, Rosie basically inhaled his sandwich, whether that was because of Lucy’s culinary skills or the hunger that had built up in him during the walk he did not know, but Rosie felt calm for the first time in a while.
He was now watching the push and pull of the waves against the sandy beach and stroking a hand through Lucy’s soft curls. With her head resting on his lap she seemed to almost be dozing off, a small content smile adorning her face.
“You know, I’m glad my editor made me take a break.” Lucy’s soft voice carefully broke the comfortable silence, Rosie hummed in appreciation - urging her to go on. “I haven’t stopped working ever since… my parents.”
“It’s almost like you settled into a routine, you thought you were handling it well and then suddenly…” Rosie trailed off as he thought back to his time at the Flak House, he had gotten better at handling missions after that, he felt more human but he knew exactly how hard it felt to just stop sometimes. Because when you stop, you start to feel everything.
“It gets too much…”
“Exactly. I had- have, the same problem.”
“Birds of a feather.”
“Yes.” Rosie murmured, his mind far away in the clouds. He felt so connected to Lucy for some reason. Maybe this is why. They were two sides of the same coin.
“Read to me, Rosie.” Lucy said after a few moments of silence. Rosie looked down to find that Lucy’s brown eyes were fixed on his face.
“You want the silly American to read to you?”
“Rosie… everything about you is beautiful, now, read to me. The silly Brit commands you.”
“Commanding me now, are we?” Rosie teasingly asked, largely ignoring the first part of Lucy’s comment which made him feel like he was floating.
“Rosie.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Rosie picked up the copy of The Great Gatsby that Lucy had packed and flicked to a random page, starting to read the tale of some rich fictional idiots who had no care in the world except for the sorrows of love.
Pastels painted the sky as the sun started to set. Lucy was still lying in the same position she had been for the past few hours. Rosie had abandoned reading after a while and they spent that time talking and sitting in comfortable silence.
It was easy just being around Rosie, Lucy felt completely safe in his presence. He had this reassuring air around him which made her sure he was a wonderful Major.
“Sometimes I wish I could paint. I can write about this moment all I want but to create a piece of it would be a completely different experience.”
“Why don’t you start it?”
“What? Painting? No never, you have a better chance of turning me into a singer.” Lucy answered, making the pair laugh.
“Do you think we should head back?”
“Let us stay for a while more, Rosie. It’s too perfect. I want something to remember when we leave.”
“We’ll come back here, Lucy. I swear it.” Lucy smiled up sadly at Rosie, examining the way he looked down at her. She thought he looked earnest enough, but who knew with this war? Who knew if he would ever come back to her?
“I hope we will, Rosie.”
Lucy noticed how much quieter the walk back to her house was, Rosie had slung his arm around her shoulder, tucking her into him and protecting Lucy from the biting night wind that had started to pick up. It was almost as if the realization of leaving was starting to weigh on them. Rosie would be leaving late the next afternoon and Lucy on Monday. Both headed back to their lives and away from the slice of heaven they had been able to cultivate.
“Do you want to come in?” Lucy asked once they arrived at her house. She had already started to move to grab the picnic basket, making up her mind that Rosie wanted to at least spend a meal by himself.
“I would love to.” Lucy smiled and moved back to her original position under Rosie’s arm. “But only if you don’t mind me cooking?”
“You cook?!” Lucy must have realized she looked beyond surprised because she schooled her face a few moments later.
“I do. I haven’t had the chance recently, but my mother taught me well.”
Lucy smiled and quickly pecked Rosie on the cheek before bounding over to the door to unlock it.
“Come on, Rosie. I’m desperate to see what you’ll make.”
Rosie just laughed and picked up his pace until he followed Lucy into the house and shut the door behind him. He placed the picnic basket on the floor and then headed towards the direction of the kitchen.
He passed Lucy, who was quickly flicking through the record collection, intent on finding something to put on while he cooked. Rosie already knew what he was going to make, he just hoped Lucy had the right ingredients for it.
Rosie quickly spent the next hour prepping and cooking his mom’s famous tomato soup. Lucy poured them each large cups of wine and watched him as he cooked. Rosie felt slightly embarrassed by her calculating stare, feeling her eyes on him the entire time he was slicing or stirring, but after a while he realized she was staring at him in admiration. Watching as he fluidly moved through her kitchen and prepared a dinner just for the two of them.
When Rosie was finally ready to plate the food, Lucy offered him two china bowls her mother must have saved for special occasions and Rosie distinctly felt his heart swell. He was rather nervous after they finished serving everything and sat down next to each other at the large dinner table that was usually left unused.
Rosie watched Lucy as dipped her spoon into the tomato soup, raised it to her lips and took a delicate sip. He watched as her face contorted in awe and she quickly took a larger sip.
“Rosie. How? This needs to be in a restaurant. This is incredible!”
“It can’t be that good.”
“Oh it is. You must tell me your secrets.” Rosie laughed, relieved that he was able to please her. He took a sip of his own soup and relished in the familiar taste of home.
After dinner and cleaning up the dishes, Rosie found himself nestled next to Lucy on the couch. She had gotten changed once they had finished drying the dishes and was now wearing the long lacy nightgown he had seen that morning. It seemed that it was tailored to be his own personal torture device.
“Lucy, you really need to stop me, because I really want to kiss you right now.” Rosie finally said, it seemed like the two glasses of wine had given him enough confidence that his brain was no longer filtering his mouth. Lucy turned her head to look at him directly and he watched as a smile blossomed on her face.
“Oh I’m not going to be the one to stop you.”
This kiss felt different from the others. It was as if it was imbued with a special kind of love that came from knowing the other person on a much deeper level. Rosie’s fingers were tangled in Lucy’s silky blonde curls and he could feel as his own curls were being ruffled from where Lucy’s hands had started to tug on them.
When they finally broke apart, both Rosie and Lucy were panting hard. Rosie knew he was looking at Lucy with more admiration than he thought was possible and she was looking at him with the same depth of love in her eyes.
“You are quite a man, Robert Rosenthal.”
“And you are quite a woman, Lucy Everett.” Lucy laughed and she tucked herself close to him once again. Rosie relished in the warmth that her body emanated, how he wished he could stay like this forever.
Little by little, the sound of Bing Crosby started to fade and Rosie felt himself drop into a slow slumber. Lucy’s eyes also began to close and the two lovers drifted off into the sweet escape of sleep.
Only once did one of them wake, Rosie woke up panting after having what seemed like a nightmare. The moon illuminated the living room and he could still hear the distant sounds of a woman screaming. He shook himself out of it and instead focused on the blonde in his arms. He carefully readjusted her and placed a kiss on her cheek before falling back asleep.
Lucy felt a warm solid body pressed against her own. She blearily blinked her eyes open and watched as her living room blossomed around her. Then she remembered where she was, and who she was with.
“You’re finally awake.” Rosie’s voice made Lucy smile contently and she looked up to see Rosie’s intent stare on her face.
“Hmmm, good morning.”
“It is indeed.”
“You stayed.”
“I wouldn’t leave unless I had to, Lucy.” Rosie said with a sad smile, Lucy watched as his eyes dimmed slightly and she quickly nestled closer into him. Sitting up slightly to press a kiss to his jaw, and then his cheek and finally his lips.
“What was that for?”
“I thought you needed it.” Lucy said with a shrug before she was too attacked with kisses. Rosie’s mustache tickled her skin as he placed a flurry of kisses all over her face. She shrieked in delight, making Rosie chuckle against her. “Rosie! Stop! I have to go make breakfast.”
“Nope.” Rosie stopped kissing her for a moment just to respond to her comment and Lucy let out a sigh of relief, which was instantly cut short as he started his assault once again.
“Rosie…”
“Okay, okay fine. Come on. I’ll help you make breakfast.” Rosie said, finally relenting. He stretched out his arms and let out a groan as Lucy also yawned and started to stand up from her place on the couch.
“What are you feeling like?”
“Anything you want, darling. Just none of that tea please.” Lucy narrowed her eyes at him, which had Rosie smiling sheepishly at her.
“Fine, come on.”
Lucy quickly busied herself as she picked out the meager ingredients she had to make eggless pancakes, since she had used up the last of the eggs yesterday. Lucy could feel Rosie’s eyes on her when she started to do her little tea ritual.
“Can you put on some music, honey?” Lucy asked once she had finished pouring herself a cup.
“Of course.”
After the click of the record sounded, Lucy distinctly felt the weight of Rosie behind her as he pulled her towards him and hugged her from behind. Lucy was carefully measuring out the ingredients but she let her head lean against his shoulder.
“Hmmm. I’m going to miss you.” Lucy whispered, Rosie hummed against her head and Lucy felt herself start to sway against him. She felt a slow tear run down the length of her cheek and she allowed herself to just feel for a few moments.
“I may be leaving but I’ll always be in your heart, and you will always be in mine.”
“You’re already making me cry, Rosie, stop saying things like that.” Lucy said with a strained laugh. Looking back at him, Lucy felt her heart both swell and break simultaneously.
“Lucy… I-”
“I love you.” Lucy muttered, interrupting Rosie mid sentence. She watched him as his eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
“You- you? You love me?”
“I think I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.”
“I love you too. I’ve loved you ever since I saw you sitting outside on your porch swing reading the same book I was. Lucy, darling, I-”
Lucy cut Rosie off again but this time with a kiss. She threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled him towards her. She put everything she had into that kiss and she felt as Rosie responded in turn. His lips cautiously moved against hers and she felt a tingle run over her body by how carefully he cradled her face against his.
“Rosie. I really need to get to those pancakes.” Lucy finally said after a few long minutes of kissing. She muttered her words against his lips, feeling as Rosie chuckled and pulled away from here.
“Nothing is stopping you, milady.” Lucy huffed but turned back around. Savoring the feeling of the man that she loved cradling her as she fixed breakfast and took sips of her tea.
Rosie’s tastebuds ignited when he placed a slice of pancake in his mouth. The day was already starting to shape out to be a good one. He still felt like he was floating after Lucy’s admission only half an hour ago, now he just watched her in awe from across the kitchen table. She was also taking careful bites of her pancakes and stealing glances at him.
They had almost become more bashful than they had ever been, whenever they met eyes either Rosie or Lucy would immediately break eye contact. There was a comfortable tension between them that neither person felt necessary to break.
Once they had both finished their respective breakfasts, Rosie leant over and entwined their hands together. He watched as Lucy smiled adoringly at him and leaned over to peck his lips.
“Rosie… I- do you want to finish The Great Gatsby?” Lucy asked against his lips, staring at him intently. Rosie nodded and they both rose from their seats and walked over to the living room. Leaving the dishes for another time.
The morning was spent in a quiet comfort. Rosie’s voice echoed through the rooms of the house, although he frequently stopped his reading to press languid kisses to Lucy’s lips, or to caress the exposed skin of her arm. At the pace that he ended up going, he finished the book at about midday. When Rosie leaned over to place the book on the coffee table, he felt Lucy stir from his side and start to stretch out.
“I need to get changed, Rosie.”
“Yeah?”
“Hmm. I wanted to walk with you to the station and I can’t do that wearing a nightgown.”
“I wouldn’t be complaining.”
“I know you wouldn’t be, but do you truly want everyone else staring at me.” Rosie blinked up at Lucy from his position on the couch when realization dawned on him. “I thought so. Now busy yourself with something while I get changed.”
“Yes ma’am.” Rosie said with a sarcastic nod which had Lucy shaking her head at him before disappearing out of the door.
Rosie took to scanning the living room he had basically lived in for the past few days. He wanted to commit it all to memory before he had to leave. At that thought, Rosie dragged a hand over his face - he was leaving in less than two hours and he was leaving her. How he wished he could take her with him and show her the planes that so fascinated her. Most of all he wanted this damned war to end so he could be in her arms for the rest of his life.
His fingers caressed the worn fabric of the couch he was sitting on, he felt more at home here than he had in a while. Rosie didn’t want to leave. He knew his duty and nothing would stop him from that, but how he wished it wasn’t like this. He wished he had met Lucy at a jazz bar, or at a bookstore, when war wasn’t a constant in both of their lives.
He wished the world was different, but unfortunately it wasn’t. All Rosie could do was keep coming back from missions, and now he had another reason to.
“Very well, how do I look?” Lucy’s voice almost made him jump, he had been so lost in his thoughts that Rosie hadn’t heard the creaking of the age old floorboards. He took a few moments to take in his beautiful Lucy. She was wearing a long light yellow dress with black flowers embroidered on the collar.
“You look radiant as always, my dear.” Rosie said, almost breathlessly as he rose from his spot on the sofa and walked over to her. He pressed a kiss to her lips, trying to memorize the feeling of her warm body against his.
“Hmm. Not that this isn’t wonderful, but we need to make lunch. And I wanted to make some sandwiches for your trip back.”
“You really don’t need to do that.” Rosie said as he pulled away from Lucy to look at her in surprise.
“I want to, now come.”
After a quick lunch, Lucy had disappeared into her study to write him a little note - leaving Rosie to do the dishes. She sat down at her desk and stretched her fingers before starting to type.
Dear Rosie,
I know you won’t read this until you get back, but I wanted you to have something to remember me by. I just wanted to say that I love you and I promise to write to you nearly every day and try to call you when I can because I’m not sure I will be able to survive without hearing or reading your words for a day.
You have turned my world into something I never expected. I never expected you, my darling. I wish we could spend more days like this weekend. I will never forget them, I will never forget you. I will always cherish these memories, until we are able to make new ones just like them.
I love you, my dear. Remember that when you’re flying your plane and have your head in the clouds.
All my love,
Lucy
With a final ding of the typewriter, Lucy pulled the paper out and blew a little on the ink before folding it into a neat rectangle. She grabbed Rosie’s copy of The Great Gatsby that had been hanging around the house for the past few days. Opening up the book she slipped the note in between the pages and then picked up her pencil to scribble her name on the inside cover page.
“Now what might you be up to?” Lucy swivelled around to find Rosie leaning on the doorframe. His arms were crossed and he seemed to have been standing there for quite a while.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“Oh really? So you didn’t just slip something into my book.”
“Shhh, it’s supposed to be a secret. Be a dear and don’t open it until you get back.” Lucy said as she rose from her seat and placed the book into Rosie’s hands, an easy smile on her face.
“The suspense might kill me but I promise. When do you have to head back to London?”
“Tomorrow. I’m hoping for a new assignment.”
“I’m sure it’s going to be amazing.”
“You better buy a copy of the paper once it’s published.”
“Don’t worry, I will be on the lookout for it.” Rosie’s arms now encircled her waist, and Lucy was sure she was staring at him like a lovesick idiot.
“We better get going if we want to catch your train. You still need to pick up your luggage.”
“I know, but this is much more preferable.”
“Rosie… don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“Alright, alright.” Rosie’s hands rose in a defeated posture, making Lucy choke out a laugh.
“Come on.”
Lucy followed after Rosie as she went to grab the necessary things for leaving the house. She slipped on her shoes and tied the laces while watching Rosie take in the last details of the hallway before he left. He looked contemplative and Lucy wondered what exactly he was thinking about.
Rosie’s curls were all messed up from a night on the couch and from Lucy’s constant tugging and rearranging of them. Lucy thought he looked ethereal standing there in wrinkled clothes and messy hair. For the billionth time she wished she was a painter so she could capture him just like that.
“Ready?” She finally asked. Lucy’s question made Rosie’s eyes travel to her and he gave her a nod before going to open the door.
It felt final to Lucy, she knew she would see him again but there was always a chance, a high chance, that he wouldn’t come back to her. Even if he had promised he would.
She waited outside of the B&B for Rosie to collect his luggage, she had taken to kicking a pebble on the sidewalk and staring at the cracks in the pavement. Watching as the little weeds crept through the cement.
“Lucy… I have everything.” Rosie’s tentative voice broke her out of her thought spiral, making Lucy look over to him to find that he had changed into his uniform and had tamed his curls. He looked handsome, somehow even more handsome than he had while he wore civies. His hat was under his left arm and he held his luggage in the other.
“Well don’t you look handsome?” Rosie rewarded Lucy with a bashful smile and a blush. “Aww, don’t go getting all shy on me now.” Lucy teased as she came up to him and carefully took the hat from under his arm and placed it slightly lopsided on his head. She wrapped her hand around his now free arm and leaned against his shoulder.
The walk to the train station was filled with easy chatter, Lucy was trying to avoid facing the fact that he was leaving (possibly forever) and that she would have to return to a house that would now be void of Rosie. The small platform greeted the pair all too quickly, the station clock showing that it would only be a few minutes before the train that would take Rosie far, far away from her would arrive.
“Rosie, I- I don’t know what to say.”
“I don’t- Lucy, I don’t want this to be goodbye.”
“But you’re leaving, Rosie.”
“I’ll come back.”
“Oh, Rosie, you can’t promise me that.” She smiled tightly at him, and threw her arms around his shoulder. Feeling as he quickly reciprocated the hug. Hot, burning tears started to race down her face.
“I know, I know I can’t, but I promise that I’ll keep trying to come back. To come back to you.”
“I’m going to miss you so much. I love you.” Lucy whispered against his chest, as she let out a choked sob. She felt droplets of water hit her head and she realized that Rosie was crying too.
“And I’m going to miss you, my dear Lucy. I love you too, so much.” Rosie said as he leaned closer to Lucy.
“Promise me you’ll write.”
“Every day. Here, this is my address at the base and the phone number.” Rosie quickly pulled a piece of paper and pencil from his bag and scribbled a note on there, adding a heart for good measure.
The distant sound of the train whistle had Lucy’s heart clenching. She quickly swept away her tears and took the paper from Rosie’s hands. She pulled him in for one last kiss. Feeling as the top of his hat bumped against her forehead and how his lips pressed against hers.
The train whistle got louder and louder, making the urgency of the kiss increase. It felt like a goodbye kiss. Lucy hoped she would get to experience it again but she also knew this might be the last time, so she memorized the pressure and love that seemed to be behind Rosie’s actions. They finally pulled apart, reluctantly, when the train slowed into the station.
“Goodbye, Lucy Everett. Don’t cry, my darling. I’ll always be here. In our memories and in the love you know I hold for you.” Rosie muttered, Lucy stared deep into his eyes and nodded.
“Goodbye, Rosie. I love you so so much, now go.” Rosie smiled sadly and then pulled away from her. Lucy watched as her dear Major stepped onto the train and turned to wave at her and blow her a kiss one last time. She smiled as tears ran down her cheeks and waved back, making her remember that first wave he had sent her all those days ago.
Rosie was back on the train, except this time it wasn’t boiling hot and he was feeling the deep pangs of an aching heart. He missed her so much already and it had only been two hours. He would be arriving in London soon where he would have to change trains to get back to base, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything except stare at the piece of paper in his hands. He hadn’t opened it yet but he kept stroking the paper as if it would magically make Lucy appear in front of him.
He wanted desperately to ask the train to go back around, to abandon his life so he could run off into the sunset with his sweetheart but he had a job to do. A job which would keep her safe. So he spent the entire time on the train and then the jeep back to base thinking about Lucy’s silky curls and her ringing laughter.
Even Crosby seemed to notice something was up when he was quieter than usual at dinner. He tried to press him about it, but Rosie just brushed him off. Until he realized that Cros was now genuinely looking worried about him.
“Crosby, I’m fine.”
“What the hell happened during your leave that has suddenly turned you into a grouch?”
“I met someone.”
“You met someone?” Crosby tentatively asked.
“A girl.”
“You met a girl?!”
“Crosby, goddammit, quiet down.”
“Jesus, sorry. So you met a girl?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And what? I met a girl, fell in love and now I’m dealing with the fact I might never get to see her again.”
“Did you give her your address? Wait- fell in love? Rosie, you scoundrel!”
“It isn’t like that, Cros.”
“Sure. But did you?”
“Yes, I gave her my address. I’m sure she’ll write-”
“There! You see, she loves you too right?”
“Yes.”
“Exactly, you need to stop overthinking this and just allow it to happen.”
“Crosby… I just- I promised I’d come back to her.”
“Then you better do it. You’re one of the best god damned pilots I know, Rosie. If anyone could do it, you can. You’ll make it back and you’ll make gorgeous babies with this girl of yours. What’s her name anyways?”
“Lucy Everett.”
part 2 part 3 part 4
so... thoughts? queries?
also here are the moodboards i've made so far: meet the oc lucy's outfits
there will probably be an epilogue of sorts and some little drabbles/fics scattered around the timeline so let me know if you want to be added to the taglist !!
taglist: @justheretoreadthhx @callumsgirl <33
#rosie rosenthal#robert rosenthal#robert rosie rosenthal#masters of the air#mota#mota spoilers#mota fanfic#mota oc#masters of the air oc#masters of the air x oc#rosie rosenthal x oc#rosie x oc#robert rosenthal x oc#my ocs <3#harry crosby#nate mann#maria writes
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idk if this has been done before but Margo braiding Miles' hair? it seems basic but I feel like it would be super cute
thank you <333
Thanks for requesting! <3
No warnings except miles being a #gamer and the fact that I did not proofread this
"Come on, I could finish it in like, thirty minutes!"
"Yeah, after ripping all my hair out in the process."
Miles didn't take his eyes off of his monitor as Margo stood eagerly in the door frame, a clear makeup bag of hair supplies in her arms. The room was dim, the blinds having been shut to avoid any glare on the screen.
Miles wouldn't budge the first five times, but she'd get him today.
He sat with his knees pulled up to his chin in an old but sturdy leather swivel chair. Certainly not a traditional 'gaming chair', but he called it that.
"I'm real gentle, I promise!"
"I've seen you do your own braids,"
Miles executed a winning combo on his controller.
"and I told you I want no parts. Pun intended."
Margo pursed her lips, and thought for a moment.
"You still looking for a copy of 'Dandadan'?"
The boy paused the game, and gave her a sideways look.
"How did you know that?"
She shrugged, "Context clues. But that's not important. I can let you borrow mine--"
Miles lit up. "Really--?"
"--If you let me do your hair. Capiche?"
He paused, glancing at the sharp rat tail comb sitting in Margo's bag. Miles had blown most of his allowance for this week at Game Stop, so any new manga purchases would have to wait until Monday. Unless...
He sighed deeply, running a hand over his face.
"Fine."
Miles came to regret this decision as he sat in front of the living room couch between Margo's knees, wincing at every tug and pull.
"Is this the last section--ow!"
"Stop moving," Margo waved her wide-toothed comb around threateningly like a weapon. "You almost done, anyway. See?"
She put down the comb and grabbed a small mirror for him to look into. Save for a small tuft of un-braided hair, his entire head had been neatly cornrowed and shone with grease. There were about four total, and it had only been twenty-ish minutes or so.
After ten minutes more of pain and accusations of 'tender-headed-ness', Margo was finally done.
"You look so cute!" she chirped, clapping her hands together. "I'mma go wash my hands."
Miles rolled his shoulders and reached for the mirror to assess Margo's work. The braids tugged at his scalp as he turned his head at different angles, trying to get used to the look. His brows furrowed.
Miles' hair had stayed in more or less an afro since he could walk, with the exception of his mother's only attempt to sit him down and braid it when he was six.
...It did not go well.
The mass of hair became almost a part of his face. The cornrows made it feel like half of it was now missing. Weird stuff.
"D'you like it?" Margo asked, having emerged from the bathroom.
"It'll have to grow on me. I only did this for the free manga, remember?"
Margo's eyes widened, as if she just remembered something.
Very matter-of-factly, she said, "Oh, I lied about that."
"...What?"
Miles' face fell immediately as she knelt down and planted a kiss on his cheek.
"But you'll forgive me, right? I made you look cooler!"
Margo pulled him into a tight bear hug. He rolled his eyes.
"You might be right, but I'm gonna get you back for that. Better keep a close eye on...what's her name? Kimi?"
"Kuromi, dumbass," she picked up the comb from before and gently smacked him with it. "And don't touch my figurines. You won't walk outta my room alive."
"Count your days, man."
#miles morales#miles morales fic#margo kess#atsv fic#flowerbyte#cybershock#cyberflower#moralesanhour#requests
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jade my darling, could i please request the bf that is fred weasley looking after r with an ear infection? it could be muggle OR modern!au and not in the asf universe but up to u <333 i just need comfort from my freddie because i am in immense pain with a probable ear infection (spoiler: it sucks!)
sorry this took me those two days sweetheart i hope you're doing better now!! asf fred x fem!reader
"My mum said I should give you mudwort and lavender tincture," Fred says.
"Both sound awful," you mumble, laying on your back on the sofa, hands held out to take his as he approaches. He tried to make you chew mudwort this morning, you vehemently denied it.
Fred looks bitten by the cold, though he's barely been gone for ten minutes. Quicker to go see his mum and ask for a solution than pen a letter and wait for her to get it. He crouches down next to you and feels along your forehead with his cold fingers, a nice relief.
"You okay?" he asks.
"I'm okay, please don't make me take mudwort."
"No, I won't," he assures you. He's wearing a frown, the 'my heart is so broken for you' expression he actually lets you see these days.
"You used to do all your worrying secretly," you mumble.
"So did you," he says, kissing your head carefully.
You wince despite his gentleness, the ache in your ear having pervaded into your teeth and brow, even behind your eye. "Can I have more painkillers now?"
"Yes, I think so. It's not quite been four hours, but," —he sighs and kisses your hand before letting it rest on your chest— "I don't think it's alright for you to be in this much pain, lovely girl."
Even now his pet names make you giddy. Smiling through the pain, you pull the throw blanket he's laid over you upto your chin. You haven't cried for a few hours, but the pain is acute and building fast. Your eyes hurt, your nose hurts, Fred's too far away and his stupid brother hasn't come to see you, either.
"Will George be coming over?" you ask.
Fred pops ibuprofen and paracetamol into his hands. If you're refusing mudwort (as you have from the beginning of your sickness), then those will have to do. "Round two."
"Time is it now?"
"Two. Sit up, then, you can have these with some apple juice."
You blow out a suffering breath and sit up. Your ear feels better for it, honestly, so you elect to stay sitting, taking your tablets and shifting your legs to make room for your devoted boyfriend to sit beside you. Luckily you're not contagious. Fred's the one who made you sick, and he got sick from one of his many siblings who got sick from who knows, but so far you're the only person to suffer with an ear infection.
He's free to sit close to you and ogle you shamelessly. "You're still very, very pretty, even when you're ill. How do you manage that?"
You smile at him. It's a sad smile, too pained to really give him much minding. "Practice," you joke.
Fred appreciates your effort. He pulls your arm into his lap to touch gently, drawing shapes and stars and spirals into your hot skin.
"Mudwort's not as bad as you remember," he begins lightly, his nonchalance a dead giveaway that it is definitely as bad as you remember. "It's like long grain rice, you know?"
"It tastes like clay if clay was evil."
"Yeah," he says, his guilty smile making apples of his cheeks, his freckles dancing. "Okay. The lavender tincture will be ready in a bit, you don't have any qualms against lavender, do you?"
"Quite like lavender," you mumble, closing your eyes. You're too tired to stay alert but hurting too much to sleep.
"I quite like you, ghost," he murmurs. Ghost a silly nickname and not silly at all, a lasting moniker that the twins defer to whenever they feel like being especially affectionate. You used to be very quiet before you met them, like a ghost.
You frown deeply as a wave of throbbing pain worsens. Lost in it, you're unsure how much time passes, but George arrives at the same time as the tinctures ready, sitting gingerly beside you.
"This is very unfortunate," he says. He pokes your arm. "Fred does realise that if he fails to look after you, we'll only have Lee Jordan left?"
"You love Lee Jordan," you mumble.
"Ah, but I love you more." You squint at him. He looks a lot like Fred, but he doesn't look at you as Fred does. When Fred looks at you, it's with a lovelorn, inescapable fondness, like he wants to wrap you up in his arms for days at a time and just hold you. George grimaces at your dishevelled appearance. "Well, I loved you. I'll give a heartfelt eulogy."
"We aren't best friends anymore," you complain, pushing at his hand ineffectually.
Fred sits down. You'd barely recognised his departure. "I think you should mercy kill me," you say, scrunching your eyes closed. You're joking but tears well unbidden along your lash line, trying hard to push out. You scrunch your eyes harder.
"You'll be okay," Fred promises, tincture in hand. "I promise. You'll have a couple of drops of this, okay?"
"Wait, I have to eat it?" you ask, suddenly much more reluctant.
"Yeah. I'll take some too, if you like. We'll all have lavender mouths."
You close your eyes and tilt your head back, knowing Fred will dropper the tincture into your mouth. It's oily and tastes cloying. George presses a cup into your hands, and you drink quickly to get rid of the bad taste.
You nearly gag, swallowing roughly against the oily feeling coating your teeth.
"Bet you wish you'd taken the mudwort now."
"Shut up, George."
George doesn't shut up. He doesn't yell, but he talks to you for a while, staving off tears with his presence alone. He gives your hand a good squeeze as he says goodbye, promising to bring you a proper jar of sweets if you make it through the infection.
"I notice you haven't offered me anything," you tell Fred as he sits down. Tears bump down your cheeks from the pain. You're trying to ignore them. "I want things, you know."
"That's music to my ears," he says, pulling your head toward his chest gently, giving you the chance to stop him if it hurts. "I love when you want things. I'll get you literally whatever it is you want just as soon as you can fight your poorly ear off."
Fred gives you a tiny kiss at your crown. You sniffle.
"What can I do?" he asks.
"This is really perfect," you say, wiping your tears away before they can tickle. "I have everything I need until it's over. You and paracetamol."
He knows how much you mean it. Nearly every horrible thing you've lived through has been while you were holding his hand. Fred looks a little like he could cry himself as he smiles at you, stroking your damp cheek with the back of his hand. He softens his touch as your eyes flutter closed, his voice like a hum as he says, "Sorry, lovely. I didn't mean to make you so unwell."
"I could've slept on the sofa," you say with a shrug.
"But you insisted on taking care of me, and now you're not well," he says, kissing your crown a second time. "I'm sorry. Please try not to cry, okay, it's only going to hurt more."
"You need to distract me, then," you say, pursing your lips for a kiss.
He leans down to give you the kiss you're craving. "Love you," he says, all smushed.
"I love you, Freddie," you say, dropping back down into your cushion nest. "Don't feel guilty, okay? Everyone gets sick."
"I just don't like you getting ill. You've had a rough enough go."
You breathe in through your nose, pulling his upper arm toward you so he can't run away. He wouldn't, but still.
"I can manage. Have a really nice boy looking after me."
Fred makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan and settles down next to you for the long haul. "You're easy to look after. Try and have a rest, yeah? Let's kip."
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present.
It had been a long while since Genmei had set foot in this room, and she couldn't help but let her gaze wander, her eyes tracing the contours of the space. The memories of years gone by resurfaced, casting a warm, nostalgic light on her thoughts. The armchair in which she now reclined seemed as much a part of the room as the air and light that filled it, a fixture of comfort and familiarity that had stood the test of time.
GENRE: pre - hidden inventory arc to shibuya arc (1990s to 2010s);
WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;
LISTEN: present by khalid
NOTE: i rewrote this and made the two of them have more fun because, being married to gojo satoru for almost ten years changes you as a person. genmei certainly isn't all zenin anymore and gakuganji hates that. anyway enjoy this <333
masterlist
u s and t h e m
[ Hiromi Shrine, June 2018; Tokyo Prefecture ]
THROUGHOUT THE YEARS, THE SMELL OF INCENSE HAD BECOME A COMFORT. Throughout the passing years, the fragrance of incense had transformed into a source of solace. Just as the presence of the kamis in front of her, the smell of incense had become the means to find a safe zone. In her tender years, that aroma had often left her feeling queasy, prompting her to seek refuge behind her father's hakama, where she'd bury her face in its fabric.
The scent that emanated from her father's garment was a symphony of sweetness and tenderness, akin to the delicate fragrance of cherry blossoms in spring. That memory remained etched in her mind. Yet now, as she stood in the autumn of her life, Genmei found herself far removed from her childhood self. The scent was not as disagreeable as it once appeared; in fact, she dared to admit that she rather enjoyed it.
The sun's rays filtered through the dense canopy of leaves, casting golden lattices upon the moss-covered path. Birds sang sweetly, the gentle breeze whispered secrets of the forest, and a hush fell upon the world, as if nature itself held its breath in anticipation. Today was a beautiful day, she could admit.
The past few days were obtused by such gray clouds, though it did not rain. That perhaps relieved Genmei, for she would have to take the train rather than being able to walk. She after all enjoyed being able to walk. Though, had Satoru come with her, she was certain he would complain too much about it. He had always been like that.
An elder miko smiled when she caught sight of the young woman, dropping her broom as Genmei greeted her in return. Genmei could not help panic, but she could not stop the older woman as she led her body down into an elegant bow. A flush of red rushed through her, sweat palmed face. One of these days, Genmei wished that she wasn’t as well known as she was.
A long time ago, Genmei would have eaten the glory of being known. Yet these days, the attention is not warranted. However, it is beyond unavoidable. She purses her lips, sighing. Perhaps it might have been better had she convinced Satoru to come with her. Satoru would eat this attention to its bones, she was certain.
One can call it bad luck, he’s too saddled with missions.
But knowing the man, he was already sight–seeing.
Genmei sighed.
“It is good to see you, my lady.” The elder miko grins, standing upwards. Her hands clasped in a formal fold.
Genmei hastily bowed in return. “I am glad to be here. But you need not bow to me, you know? I am not a higher ranking priestess than you.”
The elderly woman shakes her head. “That is not true, my lady. You are a descendant, after all. You are touched by the sacred. To have you here with us, it is an honor.”
The young woman felt her mouth turn into a short line, the reminder of notoriety that she knew she will never be free from. The connection of the blood was what mattered in all clans. The thought of being from the direct echo of the founder, it is as though the founder touches you. It was almost like a blessing from kami. Genmei had never understood that.
She did not like it either.
The thought had made her feel like she was more alien than human.
A moment of glum echoes her aura.
“Are you here to pray, my lady?” The older woman’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.
Genmei nodded. “Before I pray my respects to the ancestral hall, yes.”
The woman led Genmei towards the inside.
Genmei moved with a grace and reverence that seemed almost as ancient as the shrine itself. When she could, she followed the ritual that had been passed down through generations with unwavering devotion. With her offering carefully placed in the big red box, she stood before the honden, the heart of the sacred place. As the sun's gentle rays filtered through the ancient cedars, casting a warm glow on the shrine, Genmei reached for the thick rope that hung beside the entrance.
The sound of the bell reverberated through the tranquil forest, a call that resonated with the spirits of the land. Bowing twice, she paid her respects to the deity, clapping her hands twice to signal her presence. In the sacred silence that followed, she felt the ancient energies embrace her, and her heart swelled with a profound sense of connection. With one final, deep bow, she conveyed her gratitude and reverence.
Her sand colored hair quivered against her back as she raised her body slightly. Genmei meets the golden eyes of the kami. She lowered her head, her lilac eyes closed. Genmei is feeling the waves of the kami whisper to her, unable to move for what seemed like hours. It was as though the kami was pulling her body downwards, to force her to submit. Her knuckles buck and close.
A huff of pained breath leaves her lips laboriously. There was always an expectation to submit an offering. To this kami, the cursed energy within her was the best one. It protected the dwelling of the holy abode, after all. From long ago, that had been the practice.
Lilac eyes shone against the kami’s face.
Sweat pears against her porcelain face.
Genmei sighed, exhausted in the fight.
‘You truly are a bitter one, aren’t you?’ The voice laughs, sending shivers down her spine.
‘I hate you.’ Genmei hisses back.
The voice merely continued laughing. ‘You’re far more interesting to tease.’
‘I am not lighting an incense for you.’
‘You’d do it anyway,’ The voice snickers dismissively.
Genmei snarls, knowing the voice was right. Genmei tried to stand up, but failed for a moment. A frustrated gleam in her eyes as her legs took ground. Whenever she visited the kami’s shrine, there was always such entitlement to her body. She could not fight a kami, that she knew. Her cursed energy was drained, but once she took some rest she knew she would be better again. Still, she was glad it was only at his altars where must feel this way. A small price to pay, the words of her ancestor a thousand years ago writes.
‘When has it ever been worth it to serve the powerful?’
‘Gojo Satoru isn’t powerful?’
She shakes her head. ‘I’m not his servant.’
‘As you say.’
Once she was able to gather enough strength, she took to walking. Despite the pain, she knew she could not look weak in front of the elder miko. The woman bowed to her once more, as Genmei moved gracefully, her steps echoing the rhythm of the shrine's ancient stones. The sound of the bamboo fountain ringing in her ears. Her light cerulean blue kimono danced against the white shawl covering her arms.
The elder miko led the way, all the while telling her of the shrine’s condition while they walked. Genmei could not speak, her strength only starting to return to her. Genmei sighed, slowly taking out the incense from her kimono’s safety. In her hands, she carried a bundle of fragrant incense sticks, each carefully chosen for their purity and significance.
As she reached the sacred courtyard, Genmei paused to bow deeply in respect.She stared at the bountiful piles upon the table. She approached timidly the offering table, a wooden structure adorned with offerings of rice, fruits, and flowers. The shrine seems to have offered it on her behalf. The estate must have told them in advance.
At its center lay an intricately carved incense burner, ancient and weathered, its beauty only deepened by time. Her mother had told her that they were the same ones from when the parent clan still existed in its power. Genmei carefully touched it. Memories were inside them, sealed tightly. She was sure. There was such energy in them. Genmei turned to the elder miko, but she did not speak. The woman merely kept her head down.
Genmei did not press the matter further.
Genmei started to hum as she turned towards the small clay pot where fire danced. The way it danced mesmerized her, its every essence alive in its willfulness. Genmei lit the incense sticks, their delicate tips blossoming into tendrils of smoke, fragrant and wispy. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be swept up in the gentle dance of the smoke as it curled and swirled, an ethereal waltz of devotion.
The world around her faded away as she began her sacred ritual. Holding the incense aloft, she first offered it to the kami, the spirits of the shrine, seeking their blessings and protection. Her whispers were soft, a heart's longing transformed into silent words carried by the fragrant smoke.
"O venerable spirits, o venerable kami, guardians of this sacred world, accept this humble offering! A symbol of my gratitude and reverence. May you watch over this land and its people, as you have done for countless generations. Guide us, protect us, and let your wisdom flow through us like the waters of a serene stream."
The incense smoke swirled and danced, ascending like a bridge between the earthly and the divine, a communion of souls.
Genmei then turned her attention to her own hopes and dreams. With each additional incense stick she offered, she silently whispered her aspirations to the spirits. It was a sacred dialogue, a conversation between her heart and the universe, a moment of pure connection.
With the final incense stick offered, she bowed deeply once more, her spirit lightened and her heart touched by a profound sense of peace. The incense continued to burn, its fragrant tendrils rising toward the heavens, carrying her intentions to the ether.
Once more, Genmei bows.
She stands and turns to the elder miko.
Genmei smiles.
Metallic scarlet pours from her hakui.
The miko’s eyes widened slightly.
“Lead me to the ancestral hall, please.”
THROUGHOUT THE YEARS, THE SMELL OF INCENSE HAD BECOME A COMFORT. Throughout the passing years, the fragrance of incense had transformed into a source of solace. Just as the presence of the kamis in front of her, the smell of incense had become the means to find a safe zone. In her tender years, that aroma had often left her feeling queasy, prompting her to seek refuge behind her father's hakama, where she'd bury her face in its fabric.
The scent that emanated from her father's garment was a symphony of sweetness and tenderness, akin to the delicate fragrance of cherry blossoms in spring. That memory remained etched in her mind. Yet now, as she stood in the autumn of her life, Genmei found herself far removed from her childhood self. The scent was not as disagreeable as it once appeared; in fact, she dared to admit that she rather enjoyed it.
The sun's rays filtered through the dense canopy of leaves, casting golden lattices upon the moss-covered path. Birds sang sweetly, the gentle breeze whispered secrets of the forest, and a hush fell upon the world, as if nature itself held its breath in anticipation. Today was a beautiful day, she could admit.
The past few days were obtused by such gray clouds, though it did not rain. That perhaps relieved Genmei, for she would have to take the train rather than being able to walk. She after all enjoyed being able to walk. Though, had Satoru come with her, she was certain he would complain too much about it. He had always been like that.
An elder miko smiled when she caught sight of the young woman, dropping her broom as Genmei greeted her in return. Genmei could not help panic, but she could not stop the older woman as she led her body down into an elegant bow. A flush of red rushed through her, sweat palmed face. One of these days, Genmei wished that she wasn’t as well known as she was.
A long time ago, Genmei would have eaten the glory of being known. Yet these days, the attention is not warranted. However, it is beyond unavoidable. She purses her lips, sighing. Perhaps it might have been better had she convinced Satoru to come with her. Satoru would eat this attention to its bones, she was certain.
One can call it bad luck, he’s too saddled with missions.
But knowing the man, he was already sight–seeing.
Genmei sighed.
“It is good to see you, my lady.” The elder miko grins, standing upwards. Her hands clasped in a formal fold.
Genmei hastily bowed in return. “I am glad to be here. But you need not bow to me, you know? I am not a higher ranking priestess than you.”
The elderly woman shakes her head. “That is not true, my lady. You are a descendant, after all. You are touched by the sacred. To have you here with us, it is an honor.”
The young woman felt her mouth turn into a short line, the reminder of notoriety that she knew she will never be free from. The connection of the blood was what mattered in all clans. The thought of being from the direct echo of the founder, it is as though the founder touches you. It was almost like a blessing from kami. Genmei had never understood that.
She did not like it either.
The thought had made her feel like she was more alien than human.
A moment of glum echoes her aura.
“Are you here to pray, my lady?” The older woman’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.
Genmei nodded. “Before I pray my respects to the ancestral hall, yes.”
The woman led Genmei towards the inside.
Genmei moved with a grace and reverence that seemed almost as ancient as the shrine itself. When she could, she followed the ritual that had been passed down through generations with unwavering devotion. With her offering carefully placed in the big red box, she stood before the honden, the heart of the sacred place. As the sun's gentle rays filtered through the ancient cedars, casting a warm glow on the shrine, Genmei reached for the thick rope that hung beside the entrance.
The sound of the bell reverberated through the tranquil forest, a call that resonated with the spirits of the land. Bowing twice, she paid her respects to the deity, clapping her hands twice to signal her presence. In the sacred silence that followed, she felt the ancient energies embrace her, and her heart swelled with a profound sense of connection. With one final, deep bow, she conveyed her gratitude and reverence.
Her sand colored hair quivered against her back as she raised her body slightly. Genmei meets the golden eyes of the kami. She lowered her head, her lilac eyes closed. Genmei is feeling the waves of the kami whisper to her, unable to move for what seemed like hours. It was as though the kami was pulling her body downwards, to force her to submit. Her knuckles buck and close.
A huff of pained breath leaves her lips laboriously. There was always an expectation to submit an offering. To this kami, the cursed energy within her was the best one. It protected the dwelling of the holy abode, after all. From long ago, that had been the practice.
Lilac eyes shone against the kami’s face.
Sweat pears against her porcelain face.
Genmei sighed, exhausted in the fight.
‘You truly are a bitter one, aren’t you?’ The voice laughs, sending shivers down her spine.
‘I hate you.’ Genmei hisses back.
The voice merely continued laughing. ‘You’re far more interesting to tease.’
‘I am not lighting an incense for you.’
‘You’d do it anyway,’ The voice snickers dismissively.
Genmei snarls, knowing the voice was right. Genmei tried to stand up, but failed for a moment. A frustrated gleam in her eyes as her legs took ground. Whenever she visited the kami’s shrine, there was always such entitlement to her body. She could not fight a kami, that she knew. Her cursed energy was drained, but once she took some rest she knew she would be better again. Still, she was glad it was only at his altars where must feel this way. A small price to pay, the words of her ancestor a thousand years ago writes.
‘When has it ever been worth it to serve the powerful?’
‘Gojo Satoru isn’t powerful?’
She shakes her head. ‘I’m not his servant.’
‘As you say.’
Once she was able to gather enough strength, she took to walking. Despite the pain, she knew she could not look weak in front of the elder miko. The woman bowed to her once more, as Genmei moved gracefully, her steps echoing the rhythm of the shrine's ancient stones. The sound of the bamboo fountain ringing in her ears. Her light cerulean blue kimono danced against the white shawl covering her arms.
The elder miko led the way, all the while telling her of the shrine’s condition while they walked. Genmei could not speak, her strength only starting to return to her. Genmei sighed, slowly taking out the incense from her kimono’s safety. In her hands, she carried a bundle of fragrant incense sticks, each carefully chosen for their purity and significance.
As she reached the sacred courtyard, Genmei paused to bow deeply in respect.She stared at the bountiful piles upon the table. She approached timidly the offering table, a wooden structure adorned with offerings of rice, fruits, and flowers. The shrine seems to have offered it on her behalf. The estate must have told them in advance.
At its center lay an intricately carved incense burner, ancient and weathered, its beauty only deepened by time. Her mother had told her that they were the same ones from when the parent clan still existed in its power. Genmei carefully touched it. Memories were inside them, sealed tightly. She was sure. There was such energy in them. Genmei turned to the elder miko, but she did not speak. The woman merely kept her head down.
Genmei did not press the matter further.
Genmei started to hum as she turned towards the small clay pot where fire danced. The way it danced mesmerized her, its every essence alive in its willfulness. Genmei lit the incense sticks, their delicate tips blossoming into tendrils of smoke, fragrant and wispy. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be swept up in the gentle dance of the smoke as it curled and swirled, an ethereal waltz of devotion.
The world around her faded away as she began her sacred ritual. Holding the incense aloft, she first offered it to the kami, the spirits of the shrine, seeking their blessings and protection. Her whispers were soft, a heart's longing transformed into silent words carried by the fragrant smoke.
"O venerable spirits, o venerable kami, guardians of this sacred world, accept this humble offering! A symbol of my gratitude and reverence. May you watch over this land and its people, as you have done for countless generations. Guide us, protect us, and let your wisdom flow through us like the waters of a serene stream."
The incense smoke swirled and danced, ascending like a bridge between the earthly and the divine, a communion of souls.
Genmei then turned her attention to her own hopes and dreams. With each additional incense stick she offered, she silently whispered her aspirations to the spirits. It was a sacred dialogue, a conversation between her heart and the universe, a moment of pure connection.
With the final incense stick offered, she bowed deeply once more, her spirit lightened and her heart touched by a profound sense of peace. The incense continued to burn, its fragrant tendrils rising toward the heavens, carrying her intentions to the ether.
Once more, Genmei bows.
She stands and turns to the elder miko.
Genmei smiles.
Metallic scarlet pours from her hakui.
The miko’s eyes widened slightly.
“Lead me to the ancestral hall, please.”
THE DAY ENDED BEFORE GENMEI KNEW IT. The day had not felt real, but perhaps its all that will ever be reality for her. She shifts, careful with her side. The wound could reopen once more. There were no healers in the temple that day, most off aiding in missions elsewhere. The elder miko was more learned in stopping bleeding than restoring the flesh to what it was.
But it would be enough, until perhaps tomorrow. Shoko should be there by then. All she had to do now was make sure that Satoru doesn't notice. But Genmei was certain that he'd be home in a few days. She was certain he'd get distracted by his sight - seeing again. A small sigh releases from her dried lips. That she supposes is levity. Otherwise, he'd dig into her and never shut up.
Genmei was beyond exhausted, she just wanted to crawl to her bed and let herself rest for the day. The usage of cursed energy beyond her minimum was stupid. But with the knowledge that there was a special grade curse that appeared among the grade one curses, Genmei knew that her cursed weapons would not be enough.
As she stepped out of the shrine's sacred grounds, she tried to bow to the elder miko and the other servants of the temple. They had gathered to say goodbye to her. Genmei gives a small smile, whispering a reminder about the weapons she would be leaving behind. They need repair. Only a Mikoto would be able to do that for her, after all. By the time Ichiji arrived, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched across the forest path. The world around her had transitioned from the vibrant hues of daylight to the cool, serene tones of twilight.
Genmei sighed as she got into the back of the car, its leather seats welcoming her with a comfortable embrace. She gave a small greeting, he greeted her back. The engine purred to life once more, and the vehicle began its journey back to the bustling city beyond the tranquil forest. The drive was a stark contrast to the stillness and tranquility she had experienced at the shrine. The city's lights came to life, and the sounds of life returned with a bustling energy.
Her thoughts drifted back to the day's visit, the rituals, the ancient spirits, and the connection she felt with the kami. It was moments like these that reminded her of the sacred lineage she bore, a responsibility she couldn't escape but had grown to appreciate. The scent of the incense still lingered in her senses, bringing her a sense of calm and clarity. The serene whisper of the Kyoto countryside began to fade away as she closed her eyes. She didn’t get much sleep last night, she supposed.
‘She was in my dreams again.’ Her eyes narrowed, thoughts of a smile far away flooding her for a moment. She shakes her head. ‘Haunting me too much, I fear.’
Before it was too late, she found darkness.
When she opened her eyes, Genmei found herself fighting against the beam of the city lights. Outside, the city buzzed with activity and life. and Genmei couldn't help but feel a disconnect from the urban chaos. For a moment, she wished she had stayed the night. Genmei had forgotten how busy the streets get when it's near the week’s end. For a moment, she found solace in the memories of the shrine, the serene forest, and the guidance of the spirits. As the car navigated the crowded streets, her thoughts remained anchored in the tranquil world she had just left behind.
“You must have been weary, Genmei-san.” The voice of her junior, Kiyotaka Ichiji, rings from the front of the vehicle. There was some concern in his eyes for her. Genmei sits up with a low groan. She could feel her hakui pristine against the movement of her body. “You immediately fell asleep.”
She sends him a reassuring smile. “I am well, Ichiji. Truly.”
“I heard Gakuganji–san sent you on a special grade mission.” A hint of concern in his voice. She couldn’t fault him. It has been much too long since she’s been in the field. "But there seemed to be more information unknown about it. It would have been much better if I postponed it until at least some observers were there to confirm more about it."
Genmei shook her head, yawning slightly. Her hands gently rested on her wide hakama. "Old man always did that to us when we were kids too. He used to leave out details. It's to see how well we'd do in unfamiliar territory."
Ichiji frowned. "Genmei-san, that's still not proper."
"It's fine." She snickers, waving her hand about. "That old fart is going to expect a long report on this. He'd berate me if I leave anything out."
"I still can't understand how it decided to stay that long in that abandoned shrine."
"Well, people still live in the town and they still have fears." Genmei huffs. "It was a perfect ground for growth. It adapted to the environment and grew stronger. And it was just waiting to be found. Observers couldn't have known how truly strong it truly was. Old fart was good to keep the information away. The observers would panic."
"Then I'm glad its dealt with, without you being injured."
"It got a scratch in, but that's not really a concern━"
Ichiji’s eyes widened slightly. “Genmei–san, you're wounded?"
“There’s nothing to worry about, Ichiji!” Genmei waves it off, giving a reassuring smile. “i''ve healed it up. Don't worry."
'How easily can you lie?'
'Shut up.'
'I'll talk how I like.'
‘I was just careless, is all.’
The voice snickers. ‘Careless? You were trying to be a hero.’
Her features hardened. ‘Can you leave me be?’
Another laugh. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’
“I’ll bring you to Shoko–san, right away!”
She shook her head. “Ichiji, there’s no need. Shoko should be heading home now, she needs rest—"
The moment stops when Ichiji’s phone rings.
Genmei purses her lips, a small contempt.
‘Gojo Satoru is calling.’
Genmei glares at Ichiji, her piercing lilac haunting him.
“Don’t tell him a word.”
THE DAY ENDED BEFORE GENMEI KNEW IT. The day had not felt real, but perhaps its all that will ever be reality for her. She shifts, careful with her side. The wound could reopen once more. There were no healers in the temple that day, most off aiding in missions elsewhere. The elder miko was more learned in stopping bleeding than restoring the flesh to what it was.
But it would be enough, until perhaps tomorrow. Shoko should be there by then. All she had to do now was make sure that Satoru doesn't notice. But Genmei was certain that he'd be home in a few days. She was certain he'd get distracted by his sight - seeing again. A small sigh releases from her dried lips. That she supposes is levity. Otherwise, he'd dig into her and never shut up.
Genmei was beyond exhausted, she just wanted to crawl to her bed and let herself rest for the day. The usage of cursed energy beyond her minimum was stupid. But with the knowledge that there was a special grade curse that appeared among the grade one curses, Genmei knew that her cursed weapons would not be enough.
As she stepped out of the shrine's sacred grounds, she tried to bow to the elder miko and the other servants of the temple. They had gathered to say goodbye to her. Genmei gives a small smile, whispering a reminder about the weapons she would be leaving behind. They need repair. Only a Mikoto would be able to do that for her, after all. By the time Ichiji arrived, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched across the forest path. The world around her had transitioned from the vibrant hues of daylight to the cool, serene tones of twilight.
Genmei sighed as she got into the back of the car, its leather seats welcoming her with a comfortable embrace. She gave a small greeting, he greeted her back. The engine purred to life once more, and the vehicle began its journey back to the bustling city beyond the tranquil forest. The drive was a stark contrast to the stillness and tranquility she had experienced at the shrine. The city's lights came to life, and the sounds of life returned with a bustling energy.
Her thoughts drifted back to the day's visit, the rituals, the ancient spirits, and the connection she felt with the kami. It was moments like these that reminded her of the sacred lineage she bore, a responsibility she couldn't escape but had grown to appreciate. The scent of the incense still lingered in her senses, bringing her a sense of calm and clarity. The serene whisper of the Kyoto countryside began to fade away as she closed her eyes. She didn’t get much sleep last night, she supposed.
‘She was in my dreams again.’ Her eyes narrowed, thoughts of a smile far away flooding her for a moment. She shakes her head. ‘Haunting me too much, I fear.’
Before it was too late, she found darkness.
When she opened her eyes, Genmei found herself fighting against the beam of the city lights. Outside, the city buzzed with activity and life. and Genmei couldn't help but feel a disconnect from the urban chaos. For a moment, she wished she had stayed the night. Genmei had forgotten how busy the streets get when it's near the week’s end. For a moment, she found solace in the memories of the shrine, the serene forest, and the guidance of the spirits. As the car navigated the crowded streets, her thoughts remained anchored in the tranquil world she had just left behind.
“You must have been weary, Genmei-san.” The voice of her junior, Kiyotaka Ichiji, rings from the front of the vehicle. There was some concern in his eyes for her. Genmei sits up with a low groan. She could feel her hakui pristine against the movement of her body. “You immediately fell asleep.”
She sends him a reassuring smile. “I am well, Ichiji. Truly.”
“I heard Gakuganji–san sent you on a special grade mission.” A hint of concern in his voice. She couldn’t fault him. It has been much too long since she’s been in the field. "But there seemed to be more information unknown about it. It would have been much better if I postponed it until at least some observers were there to confirm more about it."
Genmei shook her head, yawning slightly. Her hands gently rested on her wide hakama. "Old man always did that to us when we were kids too. He used to leave out details. It's to see how well we'd do in unfamiliar territory."
Ichiji frowned. "Genmei-san, that's still not proper."
"It's fine." She snickers, waving her hand about. "That old fart is going to expect a long report on this. He'd berate me if I leave anything out."
"I still can't understand how it decided to stay that long in that abandoned shrine."
"Well, people still live in the town and they still have fears." Genmei huffs. "It was a perfect ground for growth. It adapted to the environment and grew stronger. And it was just waiting to be found. Observers couldn't have known how truly strong it truly was. Old fart was good to keep the information away. The observers would panic."
"Then I'm glad its dealt with, without you being injured."
"It got a scratch in, but that's not really a concern━"
Ichiji’s eyes widened slightly. “Genmei–san, you're wounded?"
“There’s nothing to worry about, Ichiji!” Genmei waves it off, giving a reassuring smile. “i''ve healed it up. Don't worry."
'How easily can you lie?'
'Shut up.'
'I'll talk how I like.'
‘I was just careless, is all.’
The voice snickers. ‘Careless? You were trying to be a hero.’
Her features hardened. ‘Can you leave me be?’
Another laugh. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’
“I’ll bring you to Shoko–san, right away!”
She shook her head. “Ichiji, there’s no need. Shoko should be heading home now, she needs rest—"
The moment stops when Ichiji’s phone rings.
Genmei purses her lips, a small contempt.
‘Gojo Satoru is calling.’
Genmei glares at Ichiji, her piercing lilac haunting him.
“Don’t tell him a word.”
WHEN SHE SAW SATORU, SHE KNEW HE COULD TELL. But he did not speak it out loud. Instead, he smiled prettily at her as he gently placed the pink-haired boy into the front seat. The young figure appeared to be nothing more than a teenage boy, or so the young woman guessed.
Genmei pursed her lips into a flat line, recognizing that Satoru had found someone that peaked his interest. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that this meant something had happened. A sigh releases from her lips, Genmei was certain that she would have to look through the report Megumi would write. The elders would surely use this against them, more so with Satoru. There was so much they needed to discuss when they find the time to be alone, as she had no doubt he had much to share as well.
Satoru quietly exchanged a few words with Ichiji as he carefully fastened the seat belt around the young boy. The car door opened on her side, and her dark hair echoed against her lilac eyes as she shifted slightly, fighting the urge to groan from the pain that seared through her. Her gaze met Megumi's eyes, which glistened and blinked with a mixture of relief and concern. Genmei's heart ached as she took in the cuts that marred his youthful face and body. He was so young, she thought, yet here he was, willingly thrust into the front lines of danger.
Genmei exchanged a knowing look with Megumi as the car door clicked shut, enveloping them in poignant silence as the unspoken worry and tension festered. Had it not been for the gravity of their situation, she might have snickered at the familiarity of it all. She could vividly remember the way Toji nii-sama's eyes beamed with the same shine.
Toji nii-sama used to be that way when he would train with her father, after being knocked down a couple of times. Her father would egg on the younger man, but he would try not to show much of it loss after loss. He would have a silent scowl on his face, but he would make sure it was tender enough to go unnoticed. Just to avoid the worry. Genmei was certain that Megumi was indeed Toji nii-sama's son. He was a true Zenin, a boy who's carrying the weight of that name in his back.
Megumi nodded at her as he entered the car and settled in on her left. She watched him place a shopping bag down and make himself comfortable, closing the door. The car's engine roared to life once more, and they left behind the destruction that marked their world. Genmei was certain that Yaga would scold Satoru for his reckless actions, but as she observed Satoru's demeanor, he seemed untroubled by it.
But Genmei knew better.
She sighed and leaned back, her mind drifting to Gojo Satoru. He was a man of many words, but when he fell silent, it held a different weight. In a way, even his silence spoke volumes, and if they had been alone, she knew words would be flying between them by now. But she understood the need to let things unravel at their own pace, and she didn't want to push the issue. Megumi, sitting beside her, seemed to share that sentiment.
Genmei turned her attention to the young boy sleeping in the front seat. He must have been quite impressive, she thought, to have captured the attention and care of the most powerful sorcerer of their generation. Satoru thrived on excitement, and Genmei knew that all too well. Yet it was his unmatched skill that set him apart. His eyes held a depth of knowledge that had not failed them thus far.
As the vehicle navigated through the city streets, Genmei gently reached over and placed a comforting hand on the pink-haired boy's shoulder. The boy stirred slightly in his sleep, reacting to the warmth and reassurance of her touch. For a moment, Genmei saw her own youth reflected in his vulnerability. Her voice carried a soothing tone as she whispered, "Don't worry. You're safe now."
The pink-haired boy, whose name remained a mystery to them, shifted slightly, feeling the safety of her presence. Genmei couldn't help but let out a small, reassuring breath. He was just a boy, perhaps yet to experience much of life. Despite the pain that gnawed at her, she felt a profound sense of responsibility towards this newcomer.
She knew that the path of an sorcerer was perilous, and here he was, a teenager thrust into the frontline of a battle against the supernatural. It was a harsh reality they all had to confront. A bitter pit of worry gnawed at her, wondering how much of his youth would remain intact in a world defined by danger and darkness.
The rhythmic hum of the car's engine provided a backdrop to their thoughts as they continued on their journey. Genmei's gaze remained fixed on the sleeping boy in the front seat, her hand resting gently on his shoulder, offering silent reassurance. It was a fragile moment in the midst of a storm, a reminder of the innocence that could still exist in a world plagued by darkness.
As the cityscape gradually gave way to the open road, Genmei couldn't help but reflect on their shared responsibility. They were a motley crew of sorcerers, each carrying their own burdens, their own scars, both seen and unseen. The pain etched on Megumi's face and the heavy silence that hung between them were testament to the trials they had faced.
Yet they pressed forward, driven by a common purpose, a shared duty to protect the world from malevolent forces. Genmei knew that the path of an sorcerer was one of sacrifice and hardship, but it was also a path of honor. They were the defenders of humanity, standing between the known and the supernatural, often bearing the weight of the world on their shoulders.
The young boy in the front seat stirred once more, and Genmei's grip on his shoulder tightened, offering a sense of security in a world that offered so little. She knew that their journey was far from over, that they would face challenges and dangers beyond their imagination. With Satoru, she knew to expect that always. No matter the cost, he'd have his way. He'd do what would be right.
The car carried them further into the unknown, leaving behind the wreckage of their world, and into a future fraught with uncertainty.
Genmei knew that their fate was uncertain.
But one thing had always been clear to her.
They would face the front of danger together.
For bitter or worse, she stands with Satoru.
IT WAS LATE WHEN THEY ARRIVED. A yawn, like a whispered secret, escaped Genmei's lips as they arrived at Jujutsu High. The long journey had taken its toll, and her thoughts were now consumed by the sweet embrace of sleep. With great effort, she straightened herself, a soundless groan escaping her lips as she opened the car door. Her eyes followed Satoru as he carefully lifted the slumbering boy onto his shoulder, Megumi trailing closely behind, still clutching the shopping bag.
Satoru offered some words to Ichiji, a playful grin dancing upon his lips as he closed the car door from the front. Judging by some of the reaction of the younger man, Genmei thinks he seemed afraid. More than usual, she would like to say. Genmei knew that Satoru now knows what happened to her. It was unusual for Satoru to forgo the speed of the bullet train, given his impatience, but circumstances had led them to this shared journey. Genmei had grown accustomed to Satoru's preference for her company, even during the most mundane of tasks.
Satoru, with the sleeping boy still nestled on his shoulder, bestowed a parting grin upon Ichiji, sealing their gratitude with an unspoken promise of returning the favor. The car door closed with a muted thud, and the vehicle moved away, leaving them standing on the threshold of their responsibilities.
"Is that his souvenirs again?" Genmei inquired, nodding towards the shopping bag.
Megumi confirmed with a nod, "He asked me to hold it earlier."
"Give it to me," Genmei insisted, extending her hand. "We'll go together. You can rest."
A faint crease formed on Megumi's brow as he hesitated for a brief moment, "But the kid—"
"We'll take care of him," Genmei reassured him, reaching for the shopping bag. She smiled warmly, her hand lightly touching his shoulder. "You've worked hard all day, Megumi-kun. Satoru put you to work again, didn't he?"
Satoru interjected with a mock complaint, "It wasn't as bad as you think, Genmei. Megumi's doing his job, you know?"
Ignoring Satoru's pleas for attention, Genmei's gaze remained on Megumi, her smile unwavering. "Go, Megumi. I'll share some of the moon cookies I got from the temple with you once we wrap up here, okay?"
"Genmeiiiiiii, don't ignore me!" Satoru's melodramatic whining was met with a roll of Genmei's eyes, and she returned her focus to Megumi.
The mention of the delectable moon cookies brought a sparkle to Megumi's eyes. He had always enjoyed those temple treats. He nodded in agreement and handed her the shopping bag. Genmei took a peek inside, spotting two, maybe three boxes neatly arranged within. The scent of Kikufuku mochi wafted from the bag, the confections still fresh from Satoru's purchase. Genmei couldn't help but wonder how Satoru managed to sustain himself with his insatiable sweet tooth. She shook her head, her amusement evident, and then turned to Megumi.
Her grip on his shoulder was gentle but carried a profound warmth. Silver-blue energy emanated from her being, transferring from her to Megumi, who felt the tension in his body begin to ease. The radiant energy seemed to coax his wounds into closing, a soothing balm to his injuries. It was a moment of respite.
"I don't think my energy is sufficient at the moment to heal you," Genmei offered an apologetic smile to the young boy. "But it should give you some comfort until you see Shoko tomorrow, hm?"
Megumi nodded in appreciation.
Genmei smiles, satisfied.
She pats his head. “Good job, kid. Get cleaned up and sleep.”
As Megumi Fushiguro looked away, his cheeks tinged with a subtle blush, it was a reminder of the gentle, introspective nature that Genmei had always noticed in him, even when he was just a small boy. Yet, like so many, he struggled to openly acknowledge it. There was no denying the traces of his father's influence in his character, a shadow that he couldn't fully escape. It brought to mind her own memories of youth, of the times when her elder cousin had looked down on her with an understanding gaze.
Megumi mumbled a quick "good night" and awkwardly thrust his hands into his pockets, quickly walking away. Genmei couldn't help but giggle as she watched his retreating figure.
"He's definitely Toji's son," she murmured to herself, a hint of amusement in her voice. She could see the man he was in the young boy, yet she could truly see how different they were. Megumi was truly warm, the seeping lake in the mellow sunrise. Genmei adored him, cherished him as though he was her own. One day, Genmei knew he would be the Zenin heir. Yet Genmei wished he could just be like this, a boy forever. Just be himself, just be Megumi.
The night sky, an exquisite canvas painted with countless stars, bore witness to their parting. Each twinkling light seemed to applaud their resolve and the bonds that bound them together, whether through blood or shared purpose.
With Megumi's departure, husband and wife continued on their path, the night shrouding them in a blanket of tranquility. The air was cool and soothing, a gentle caress that carried with it the secrets of countless nights. They walked side by side, their steps synchronized like a well-practiced dance, the weight of their shared duty and their unspoken understanding guiding them toward the staff dormitories.
In the quiet stillness of the dormitories, Satoru gently laid the sleeping boy with fuchsia hair on his own bed, tucking him in with the care of a guardian. The boy slumbered on, undisturbed by the transition. Genmei, her steps soft and deliberate, placed the shopping bag on the languid coffee table, her movements a testament to the exhaustion that gnawed at her.
It had been a long while since Genmei had set foot in this room, and she couldn't help but let her gaze wander, her eyes tracing the contours of the space. The memories of years gone by resurfaced, casting a warm, nostalgic light on her thoughts. The armchair in which she now reclined seemed as much a part of the room as the air and light that filled it, a fixture of comfort and familiarity that had stood the test of time.
In the quiet embrace of the night, the room came alive with a certain timeless charm. In a way, Genmei could only register the familiarity of it all. The moonlight, filtered through heavy curtains, spilled a silvery glow across the space, casting delicate shadows that danced across the wooden floor like spectral memories of the past. The room seemed to sigh in relief, as if exhaling the accumulated history of years long gone by.
The walls, adorned with faded floral wallpaper, bore the gentle marks of age, their colors muted by time, yet still holding an elegant grace that whispered of another era. A framed painting hung proudly on one wall, its vibrant hues rendered in soft, dreamy strokes, a portal to an artist's vision and a journey through the artist's imagination. The painting was a window into a world of serenity, offering an escape from the everyday.
A wooden bookshelf, standing tall against the far wall, cradled the stories of countless lives within its shelves. Dusty leather-bound tomes, dog-eared paperbacks, and well-worn classics leaned on each other for support, a testament to the voracious appetite of the room's owner for knowledge and escapism. Genmei's fingers absentmindedly brushed against the spines of these volumes, and the faint scent of old pages filled the air, a fragrance that spoke of endless adventures.
The armchair where Genmei reclined was a sanctuary of comfort. Its upholstery, once a rich burgundy, had faded over time, yet its cushions still bore the imprint of countless sitters, each one leaving behind a bit of their history. The soft creaking of the chair's aged wood echoed like a soothing lullaby as Genmei settled into its embrace, feeling its warmth and familiarity envelope her.
The room's windows, adorned with lace curtains, framed a view of the night outside. The silver moonlight bathed the world beyond, revealing the serenity of the garden below. In the distance, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of old trees, their branches swaying in silent celebration of the night.
As Genmei closed her eyes and breathed in the room's distinctive scent, she felt a profound connection to the past. This room, with its muted colors, worn but cherished furniture, and the hushed symphony of memories, had become a sanctuary, a place where time flowed in a different rhythm, and where the whispers of the past intertwined with the peace of the night, creating a space that was both familiar and forever new.
She lets her fingers graze the edges of the chair, a hint of lilac gleam in her eyes transformed into a shade of reminiscing sorrow. She couldn't help but recall the days when the chair belonged to someone else, to two people who had made this room their own. It had been Satoru and another, someone whose memory lingered in the very fabric of the armchair.
‘Wasn't this his? Suguru liked this type of fabric.’ Genmei mused softly to herself, her thoughts tinged with a touch of melancholy. ‘Satoru kept this all this time, huh?’
Satoru, his characteristic cheekiness undiminished, settled on the edge of the armchair, leaning in close. He’s removed his blindfold. "You're definitely making yourself comfortable."
"Of course," Genmei replied with a snicker. "I'm exhausted, Satoru. I worked hard."
Satoru pouted playfully, his bright eyes dancing with mischief. "You're saying this as if I don't work hard too, darling. I worked hard today too, just like Megumi did."
A small laugh escaped her lips as she retorted, "Hm, yet to be seen."
However, the levity of their conversation was interrupted by a subtle pang of pain in Genmei's chest, which didn't go unnoticed by Satoru.
"The boy, Satoru."
"What about the boy?" Satoru inquired nonchalantly.
Genmei's brows furrowed, and her lilac eyes darkened with concern. "What about him? Is someone who you think could aid in your current project? The fingers?”
Satoru sighed, his playful expression betraying a hint of weariness. "You're making it seem like I'm doing a bad thing, darling."
Genmei shook her head. A somber look on her face. "I don't think its a bad thing. I just worry. He's just a boy. He's just like Megumi."
"Him being in our world is expected." Satoru sighed, looking at the sleeping boy's figure from where he was. "Well, especially with his interaction with the finger. He makes the perfect vesdel.
"I felt something when I touched him earlier," Genmei revealed to him, her voice tinged with worry. "Did he actually eat one of the fingers?”
“He admitted to eating it, Megumi saw it.” Satoru leaned back into the modest armchair, his playful demeanor shifting to one of contemplation. "Megumi has no reason to lie, doesn't he? Besides, I saw it for myself. The king of curses."
Genmei’s face fell. “So that’s why when I touched him—"
His gaze fixed on her face, his fingers drumming softly on the armrest. He looked intrigued. Having known the history, he would know why. He slyly smiled. “You felt the layers of his soul?”
Genmei nodded. “But his soul, it’s still more dominant. I’m not sure, Satoru, but as long as he could control it, there’s a chance that the king of curses wouldn’t over take him.”
“I gave Sukuna ten seconds before the boy took over.” he murmured, a stern look creasing his features. "I've got a feeling this boy's a lot more complex and interesting than what he appears to be. No one has been able to cage Sukuna as a vessel before. Well, not that anyone’s tried, really.”
“This is going to be a mess.” Genmei purses her lips. “We’ll have to deal with this, Satoru.”
Satoru nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on the sleeping boy in the adjacent bed. “We will, you have my word on that.”
Silence engulfed them for a moment.
Satoru let out a low whistle, his bright blue eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity. "You really think he's connected to one of my 'projects,' as you put it?"
"Your projects and that boy don’t correlate." Genmei shakes her head, lips locked. "He just bumped into your project and now is forced to participate in our world. Like a cog in the machine, like the rest of us."
Satoru laughed, “You make it sound so scientifical, y’know!”
Genmei gave him a look. “The higher ups already complained about losing the item, Satoru. I got the message from your mother."
“And now there’s someone who can may be able to control it. Well, we still have to teach him.” Satoru retorts snidely, waving his hand at her. His eyes darted to the bed. He rubs the back of his neck. His eyes turned serious. “He’s going to be a target now, that’s for certain.”
Genmei hummed in agreement, her fingers slowly traced the top of his hand. Infinity is always off when they’re together. “We have to protect him, Satoru. We can't let him be in harm's way. No matter what. He's still just a boy."
He watched as his free hand rested upon her arm. “You don’t think I could protect him?”
With a fond smile, Genmei leaned back into the armchair, her fingers now wrapping against his own. "I do, Satoru. My faith in you is unwavering. I just hope you're not biting off more than you can chew. I don't want all of this to overwhelm you. You're threading a thin rope, Satoru. I just worry, as always."
Satoru's grin returned, laced with a hint of mischief. “I can deal with all of it. Especially those old geezers. Don’t worry about me.”
“I know you can,” Genmei fondly whispers back, slowly leaning her figure against his. “I worry too much, don’t I?”
“It’s not wrong to worry about people you love.” He says, lilac and cerulean meeting in a warm gaze. His hand squeezes her own. “We’re in this together, hm?”
The room was filled with a comfortable silence, the knowledge that they had each other's backs acting as a reassuring presence in the midst of their enigmatic circumstances.
Genmei finally let out a contented sigh, nodding. “I’ll talk to Gakuganji myself, if need be.”
“You really wanna waste more time with the old fart than be with me?” He pouts at her, causing Genmei to laugh.
“Do you wanna spend time with the old fart?”
Satoru looks away. “No way.”
Genmei laughs again, shaking her head. “In any case, they’ll not say no to me, you know this .”
Gojo Satoru knew that too well. Genmei was, after all, the pride of Kyoto Jujutsu High. Even during her student days, legends of her prowess and dedication had spread far and wide across the Jujutsu society. A proud scion of the most ancient bloodline, she was the embodiment of a world that Satoru couldn't fully grasp—a world steeped in tradition, a world where honor and duty ran deep in the veins of those who belonged to it.
Genmei carried that world within her like a precious heirloom, a living relic of ancient traditions and noble heritage. Her very presence, from the graceful way she moved to the dignified tone of her voice, was a reflection of the centuries of wisdom and responsibility that coursed through her veins. Her actions resonated with the echoes of a lineage that had shaped her into the formidable woman she had become.
It wasn't just her bloodline that set her apart; it was her unwavering dedication to upholding the values and honor of that world. Even as she had chosen to diverge from the path that had been laid out for her, she had done so with the utmost respect for her roots.
In the world of Jujutsu sorcery, her name carried weight and reverence, a testament to her skill, her knowledge, and her unyielding commitment. Yaga–sensei used to say that a Jujutsu sorcerer was deep inside, truly so alone. Yet despite it all, Genmei chose to be with him. Her loneliness matched his own, formed something beyond it.
It was a testament to her strength, her resolve, and her unwavering belief in the path they had chosen. She believed in his cause, to change their world into something more. Gojo Satoru couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for having her by his side, for her unwavering loyalty was a force to be reckoned with, one that strengthened their alliance in the face of all odds.
After all these years, she still chose him. Even when it caused her the world, she still chose him. She had become his most ardent constant. Pride swells in his heart, as it always did, when it comes to her.
Satoru's gaze softened as he examined her, finally letting his eyes fall upon the side of her stomach. "You got injured, didn't you?"
Genmei met his concern with a defiant look, attempting to downplay her condition. "Not a big deal."
At least Genmei thinks so. When she had been less experienced, injuries were normal. She knew it wouldn't change when she became a more experienced sorcerer. Still. she supposed Satoru expected more from her. She was after all like him, a special grade sorcerer. But it had been years. Sorcerery was the farthest thing from her mind. Training was the farthest thing from her mind.
She had been rusty from years of not being in the field like Satoru. Much too much had happened in the past ten years.
Genmei herself thinks that she was needed elsewhere. There was other ways to expel curses, there were other ways of supporting Satoru. Moreover, Megumi and Tsumiki needed her. Satoru needed her. Her family needed her. Who else would be there if not her? Still she can't help but think about the mistakes that had gotten her injured.
In the shadowed underbelly of an ancient, forgotten shrine, the air was thick with malevolence—a breeding ground for curses long stewed in bitterness and resentment. Gojo Genmei, her posture as sharp as the blade she wielded, moved with calculated precision through the dimly lit corridors. Her cursed weapon, a yari, gleamed with a sinister light, its shaft adorned with subtle engravings that whispered of old battles and victories.
The mission was clear: eliminate the special grade curse that had taken refuge here, a malevolent spirit that had grown too powerful, feeding off the stray emotions and dark histories embedded in the shrine's walls. Genmei, though usually unflappable in the face of danger, felt an unusual heaviness in her chest—a residual ache from recent emotional turmoil that she couldn’t shake off.
As she advanced, her yari pulsed with heavy cursed energy, drawing from her own reserves to manifest its deadly efficacy. She channeled her energy into the weapon, feeling the familiar tug at her core—a drain that she was well accustomed to managing during combat. The tip of the yari vibrated with the intensity of the power flowing through it, ready to strike down the corrupted soul that lurked ahead.
Suddenly, the air shifted, a cold gust brushing against her neck. It was a warning, a whisper of imminent danger. Genmei tensed, her instincts screaming for her to dodge. She pivoted on her heel, swinging the yari in a wide arc. The blade sliced through the air, meeting resistance in the form of a dark, amorphous shape that materialized from the shadows.
The curse, a grotesque amalgamation of despair and fury, howled in anger as the blade cut through it, dispersing part of its form into black mist. Genmei readied herself for another strike, her eyes narrowing as she searched for the core of the curse—the source of its power.
But in that moment, a flicker of distraction shattered her focus. A sharp, stabbing pain in her chest—an echo of the emotional wound that had not yet healed—pierced her concentration. It was a fleeting second of weakness, but it was all the curse needed.
With a vile screech, the curse reformed, lunging forward faster than shadows flee from light. Genmei attempted to react, to raise her yari in defense, but she was a fraction too slow. The curse’s appendage, sharp and oozing malice, struck, piercing her side. The pain was immediate and searing, a fire that spread rapidly through her veins, as the cursed energy of the entity invaded her system.
'Are you going to lose to this?' The voice in her head snickered at her. 'You call yourself a descendant of Hiromi?'
"You better shut up!" Genmei hissed back in pain.
Genmei staggered back, her hand clamping over the wound that now marred her side. The fabric of her kimono darkened with blood, warm and wet against her skin. Breathing heavily, she gritted her teeth against the pain, her mind racing to assess the situation.
The curse hovered before her, its form swirling with triumph. But Genmei, descendant of the Zenin clan, was not one to falter in the face of defeat. With a grunt of effort, she straightened up, her grip on her yari tightening. She could feel her cursed energy waning from the injury, each pulse of power now mixed with stabs of pain, but her resolve hardened.
Summoning the last reserves of her strength, Genmei whispered a vow through clenched teeth, a promise borne of pain and determination. "Not today," she hissed, her eyes blazing with a fierce, indomitable will.
With that, she lunged forward, her movement fueled by a mix of desperation and skilled precision. The yari sang through the air as it burst through with a dangerous amount of cursed energy. Genmei aimed for the heart of the curse, determined to end this here and now. Her pain became a distant echo, her focus narrowing to the point of her weapon and the dark core before her.
She will win.
Triumphant yet gravely wounded, Genmei had pushed her body and spirit to their limits. The final thrust of her yari had vanquished the special grade curse, a fleeting moment of victory that came at a steep cost. As the adrenaline that fueled her through the battle ebbed away, so too did her strength, leaving her exhausted and bleeding heavily.
She managed to staunch the worst of the bleeding using rudimentary first aid techniques she’d honed over years of combat, but healing her wounds completely was beyond her current capability. Overcome by fatigue and blood loss, she collapsed, the world around her fading into darkness.
When she awoke, the sharp sting of her wounds was a harsh reminder of the battle’s toll. Ichiji, a fellow sorcerer who had been searching for her after she missed their planned rendezvous, found her by the pond. Genmei had managed to clean much of the blood from her kimono and had temporarily stopped the bleeding, but her pale complexion and the grimace of pain that flickered across her face spoke volumes about her condition.
"I should take you back," Ichiji suggested with concern, eyeing her warily as she struggled to maintain her composure.
Genmei shook her head stubbornly, her voice a whisper of determination. "No, there’s a shrine nearby. I need to... to perform some duties there," she insisted, pushing herself to stand despite Ichiji’s protests.
"You need to rest, Genmei-san. You’ve done enough for today," Ichiji countered, but he knew arguing with her when her mind was set was as effective as trying to calm a storm with words.
She managed a weak smile, her usual resolve flickering in her tired eyes. "I promised Satoru I'd head home after the mission, but this... this is something I need to do."
Ichiji sighed, recognizing the stubborn set of her jaw, the same determination that had made her a legendary sorcerer. "He’s going to notice, you know. You can’t hide this from him forever. And then he would get angry at me━"
Genmei laughs. "It'll be fine. Don't worry too much. Just go and drive."
"Genmei-san━"
"Ichiji Kiyotaka━"
"Yes, yes, I'll do it!" She could see the panic on his face as he started to drive.
Genmei thinks that her request was reasonable.
Her husband's lips curl into a frown, he's displeased.
But she knows it's not how she had imposed her will.
"Ichiji told me you passed out the moment you got in the car," he countered, his voice laced with worry. Genmei's eyes hardened, and she turned her head to the side. "You should at least have told him about the injury and tell him to contact Shoko."
Genmei looked away, with almost a guilty face.
"I did tell him about the injury."
"You didn't tell him the whole story."
"You didn't have to scare him." Genmei grumbled back.
"It's beyond a big deal," he insisted.
"I just had a tiring day—"
"Genmei," Satoru interrupted her, his eyes locking onto hers. The intensity of his gaze made her pause, and she refrained from arguing further. "Give me your hand."
Genmei hesitated, reluctant to accept his help, but Satoru reached for her hand, gently taking it into his own. She watched him warily as Gojo Satoru allowed his cursed energy to flow from his body and into her own. In that moment, she could feel her entire being being rejuvenated as his power surged through her. When he was finished, he smiled at her, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He places a small kiss on her palm as she pulls away, horrified.
Genmei smacked his hand, agitated. "You didn't have to do that," she replied, hitting his arm. He chuckled, not taking her outburst too seriously.
"You wasted your cursed energy on me. This is stupid—"
Satoru didn't respond with words. Instead, he seized her wrist again, pulling her closer to him, their bodies pressed together. Genmei's lips formed a thin line, and her eyes met his, a mix of flustered emotions beyond understanding. It was a dance they had engaged in for years, the ebb and flow of their relationship, with Satoru knowing full well the power he held over her. Despite the time that had passed, he remained endlessly fascinated by her, intrigued by the depths of his connection to her, and enchanted by the mystery of their bond.
"I'd do anything for you," Satoru whispered against her cheek, his voice a gentle caress that sent shivers down her spine. "Anything."
Genmei couldn't help but smile, the weight of their shared history and the depth of their connection settling around them like a warm embrace. She leaned into his touch, savoring the closeness, the reassurance that they would always be there for each other in a world fraught with danger and uncertainty.
"You're insufferable, you know that?" she whispered to him, her fingers lightly tracing the lines of his face.
Satoru grinned, his cerulean eyes dancing with mirth. "I’m glad to hear that, darling.”
In the quiet of that room, a sanctuary within the bustling storm of their lives, the night unfurled its velvety tapestry to envelop them. The world beyond the walls faded into obscurity, its clamor and chaos drowned out by the serenity they shared. It was in these moments, when all was hushed, that they discovered the solace they had long sought in each other's presence.
Their bond, forged through trials and tribulations, was a testament to the resilience of their long standing marriage. Time and circumstance had woven their stories together, threading their lives with the unbreakable ties of camaraderie and loyalty. It was a bond that had been tested in the crucible of adversity and had emerged stronger, like tempered steel. No one could ever impede on it. Not even if they tried.
As they sat together, bathed in the soft glow of the room's lighting, their gazes met, reflecting the depth of their partnership. Theirs was a connection that transcended words, an unspoken understanding that needed no affirmation. It was a source of strength that anchored them in the face of an ever-uncertain world, providing them with the courage to confront the unknown, side by side.
Genmei thinks that she would finally have a good sleep.
But as the clock turns and drifts, nothing did ever change.
She leans towards Satoru's chest, taking a deep breath.
At the very least, the present is fine because Satoru's in it.
facts about the chapter
genmei hasn't partook in missions for near seven, eight years. she's been as inactive as tsukomo yuki, whom she's fond of.
genmei is one of the five special grade sorcerers. genmei herself was classified as such since entering kyoto jujutsu high.
genmei started hearing voices since her cursed technique manifested at six years old. the cursed technique she has was from her maternal line.
gakuganji was very strict with all his students, but most especially on genmei because her father was his favorite student. she always got the most dangerous cases because of gakuganji.
genmei was very close to toji and considered him her elder brother.
genmei is an only child and was very close to both her parents.
moon cookies is a reference to half-moon cookies. they're butter cookies and they're really good. the mikoto clan just adores said cookies and gives them out to little kids who go to the mikoto shrines.
genmei and satoru are megumi and tsumiki's adoptive parents. she's megumi's second cousin, making satoru a in law of megumi.
ichiji considers gojo satoru his primary source of stress, but because genmei is almost like satoru now, her anger is also very scary to him and can cause him stress when it does happen.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x oc#jjk x reader#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen x oc#gojo satorou#gojo satoru x oc#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x oc#jjk satoru#gojou satoru x reader#jujutsu satoru#gojo#satorugojo#gojou x reader#jjk gojou#satoru gojou#gojou satoru#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#jujutsu gojo#satoru x reader#satoru x oc#jjk fluff#jjk angst#jjk fanfic
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PAC Reading #6
What Blessings and New Experiences Does JUNE Have in Store For You?
NOTE: this is a general read, take what resonates. If you would look to book a personal reading on my page are my prices. If you would like to do exchanges on free readings, DM me. enjoy babies 🧞♂️
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PILE ONE.
oracles:
+ ask and receive
+ worth waiting for - divine timing is at work in your love life
reading:
< main theme: 2 of swords, ace of cups, ace of pents, king of swords, two of pents, seven of pents >
hello pile one babies :) the main theme for the month of June for you is choices and new beginnings. you will be in this up and down energy of indecisiveness as your obstacle is thinking too logically and rational. for some of you there is a decision to be made in regards to a new beginning in love whether it be platonic, romantic, or family wise. for others, it will be a choice in regards to a creative endeavor that you may want to proceed on with or maybe even for some of you, it’s both. whatever it is, it carries a lot of what ifs, doubts, and paranoia which may make you feel like you will not get anywhere with it. but do know, you will reap the rewards if decided to put in the work for it. this will even create the opportunity to invest into something long term.
< career & finances: high priestess, three of wands, knight of pents, eight of swords >
so yes, again, there will be a choice in your career in the month of June that you will come around on. I feel like in the first few weeks or days of June you will be in your head a lot but slowly and surely you will proceed to listen to your intuition and it will guide you to help push you to move forward. this choice will help bring long term security and generational wealth, even financial freedom if possible but you still may feel like you made the wrong choice. there is abundance in the decisions you have made or will make this month, but do not limit yourself to believing that your prosperity is not coming because you haven’t reaped the rewards as soon as you may like.
< love, advice, outcome of the month: knight of cups, nine of wands, page of cups, ten of cups >
in regards to your love life in June, expect an invitation, offer, or message/call from someone whether it be a person from the past or new but for majority of you, there is a heavy energy of a past person. you may have a unstable history with this person which may cause you to be in defensive mode or a bit withdrawn. know that your happiness and life is in your own hands. whatever choices you make in the month of June should be made fit to your desire and inner peace. you are being advise to change your perspective on things and think outside of the box. when making choices, do it out of your own content and make sure all your values, morals, and goals are aligned when you do. the beginning of the month may feel overwhelming, but the experience of this is leading to an outcome that will leave you emotionally fulfilled and happy in all aspects. it only gets bad when in the end there’s something better! keep your head up babes.
channeled messages:
+ “be careful”
+ “777”
+ “persistence”
+ “work things out”
+ “pause and reflect”
+ “accept any consequences of your actions”
+ “333”
PILE TWO.
oracles:
+ courage & bravery
+ stay optimistic about your love life - positive thinking and faith will bring you romance
reading:
< main theme: queen of swords, knight of swords, three of wands, five of wands, three of cups >
there is a lot of thinking, planning, and taking action in the month ahead for you pile two. I don’t know who you are but you are giving very much emperor energy. strong energy and we loveeee to see it LOL. I’m getting you guys are the type to pull through transformations and tower moments without even a scratch. I’m hearing heavy Scorpio/8th, Capricorn/10th, and Aries/1st house placements. warriors and dominates that get shit done and this month will be exactly that. June you will be thinking strategically before making an impulsive decision/choice to move toward your desired happiness as your obstacle for the month is inner and outer conflicts within yourself and others around you. you will be receiving many offers but whichever choice that you choose will be the catalyst for a new beginning in whatever road you choose to go down on. you will be using both your intuition and logic as it may be vital and come in handy for you.
< career & finances: three of swords, knight of cups, death, five of cups, seven of pents >
in the month of June, if you haven’t already recently gone through a transformation in terms of your career, you will be this month which will make you feel like you are having a identity crisis. wondering what the hell are you doing in this position. whether it be for some, having a hard time finding work or not knowing what you want to do it regards to your career and you can’t catch a break from it. while others are having conflicts at work or about work which has caused you to question where you want to be at in life career wise. this rough period wasn’t punishment, but a tower moment to help you go down the path of your soul purpose. it was the catalyst to fulfill a destiny or desire to do something that more resonates with you and makes your soul happy. because of this, an offer is being rewarded to you. you may be too focused on the negative as your transformation could have left a dint on your finances, but you will be sure to reap the rewards you have to gain from it.
< love, advice, outcome of the month: knight of wands, six of pents, king of cups, the moon, king of swords >
either you or someone you may have been talking to may be in the energy of seeing from a higher level and may want to finally commit. one or the other or maybe even both of you will initiate the idea of wanting things to go to the next level, be reciprocal, and balanced as they confess their inner romantic feelings. for others in the month of June, you may take this time to date around and explore in hopes of finding your desired partner whom you may come across. regardless, you are being advised to let go of all worries and troubles. you know you have been through learning lessons before and in the end everything turned out to be alright. trust in the universe and your guides and believe this time will be a grand opportunity for you to expand and grow. the outcome of the month will be a new beginning that will leave you happy and content.
channeled messages:
+ “get out of your own head!”
+ “accept any consequences of your actions”
+ “777”
+ “blessings shall abound!“
+ “take a chill pill”
+ “run fast!”
+ “if you want a fresh start, start fresh”
PILE THREE.
oracles:
+ guardian angel
+ true love - this is the romance of a lifetime
reading:
< main theme: knight of wands, the hierophant, six of wands, ten of cups, king of pents >
a spiritual awakening is in the horizon for you pile three. one that will strike your creative mindset and may even lead to a desired manifestation coming to life. you will be in the energy of victory and success. receiving recognition and/or both of that and rewards from this awakening. this is an opportunity to provide stability and security in your life and even help you gain abundance as you let go of what no longer serves you. I hear someone is starting a family business or inherited something from your family. with these blessings, some may see it as a burden instead as your obstacle for the month is realizing this is something you have been wishing for. it may not have worked out the way you have wanted, but it was planned to work out in your favor in the long run. there is a need for you to see from a higher perspective, do not cry over spilled milk.
< career & finances: queen of pents, page of cups, ace of pents, the hanged man >
some of you are stuck in limbo in regards to your career but a change of perspective will be present to help you come out of your shell. there is an opportunity to have a new beginning in both your career and finances, but it may be hard for you to come around towards it. the month of June will lead you to be acknowledging old habits and ways and releasing all that comes with it once you recognize that it holds you back from the dream life you inspire to have. an epiphany will push you towards financial abundance and new career paths.
< love, advice, outcome of the month: six of pents, the high priestess, two of pents, the lovers, the hermit >
in terms of love, some of you have two people hoping to connect and build with you and a choice between the two will have to be made. others of you will have a hard time juggling family, your love life, personal life, and work which may effect your loved ones personally. whichever resonates with you, you are being advised to make a choice in regards to the situation. ultimately, this will cause you to feel burdensome. due to other overwhelming factors, you may even result in ending your month in hermit mode to make your decisions. be mindful and see things from all perspectives this month whether it be love, career, are the manifestation you have received. do not ignore any blessings for growth and exploration because of things not seeming to go your way.
channeled messages:
+ “not the best time to do you”
+ “seek clarity”
+ “run fast!”
+ “follow your calling”
+ “when one door closes, another one opens”
+ “blessings shall abound!”
+ “take charge of whatever is going on in your life”
PILE FOUR.
oracles:
+ romance & connection
+ finances & career - financial issues are a factor in your love life right now
reading:
< main theme: ten of cups, ace of pents rx, two of pents rx, five of swords, the moon >
there is a new beginning or offer that you may pass up in the month of June or for others, you will take a moment in solitude to reclaim what makes your inner self truly happy. It won’t be intentional, but you will be in the energy of feeling overwhelmed and all over the place. things will be out of balance and disorganized in your life this month. you may be dealing with a situation that holds a bit of deceitfulness which may leave you feeling chaotic. your obstacle for the month is either defeat or learning how to operate a situation to your advantage. you may feel all is not what it seems this month when it comes to something that appears to make you happy. listen to your inner voice to decipher what’s what. your obstacles will come into view that can hold the possibility of everything working out in your favor.
< career & finances: the hierophant, knight of wands, strength, the emperor >
you will recieve some guidance that will help you restore your confidence to move forward. a higher learning and awakening will help you take yourself out of limited beliefs and challenges to overcome your obstacles. when it comes to your finances, you will be standing strong while going through a storm. this month will be a slow around everything for you, but you have every chance to take matters into your own hands. use this moment to use advantage of time and reflect on yourself and old traditions that you have once been stuck in.
< love, advice, outcome of the month: page of swords, seven of swords, the empress rx, page of wands, nine of wands >
when it comes to love this month, you will be a bit isolated and keeping to yourself. though you may be a bit in the energy of depression and self isolation/sabotage, you will be patient with yourself and others will keep the same spirit with you in return. you are being advised to break free from negative vitality and reclaim your power. it’s time to come out of your shell. it’s okay to take time to refresh and balance your body, mind, and soul, but you will be holding yourself back if you continue to sulk in sorrow. the outcome of the month will be you cutting ties to all that burdens you.
channeled messages:
+ “meditate more”
+ “seek clarity”
+ “get out of your head”
+ “1212”
+ “focus on healing and recovery”
+ “take some alone time to charge”
+ “if you want a fresh start, start fresh”
I literally pick out the pictures and oracles before hand but always get so surprised when the readings, pictures, and oracles end up all resonating with each other when I’m done with everything😭
PS, if anyone ever needs someone to talk to, I am here. feel free to dm me whenever, no pressure at all. with love babies, asé 🤍
#free tarot reading love#free readings#free tarot readings#free tarot#tarot#tarot love reading#tarotdaily#tarotoftheday#daily tarot#tarot reading#tarot cards#tarotcommunity#tarotscope#pac#pac reading#free pac#pick a pile reading#pick a picture#pick a card#pick a pile#june#gemini new moon
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skz as patrons at the library where i work
Genre: crack
Synoposis: literally what it says on the tin lmao
Members: OT8!! maknae line below the cut :)
Disclaimer in case my boss sees this that I love my job and almost all of our patrons <3 also none of these statements describe a specific person they’re just amalgamations of things we do and see every day
CHAN:
Mostly comes in to use our wifi/study rooms
Once asked us if we had a spare ethernet cable+hookup and we were all like ummmm we don’t really do that here?
Accumulated a $0.50 fine on his account and was extremely apologetic while paying it off like dude it’s okay it’s not that serious
Needs to print like 150 pages off of his laptop every single week and we feel bad for being annoyed because he’s really very nice about it*
Leaves ten minutes before closing <333
*this is annoying because printing off your own laptop means we have to leave our desk and go get your papers from the wireless printer the back office, whereas if you printed from the library computers you could get it yourself from the public printers
MINHO:
Runs a whole-ass business out of our meeting rooms
Like seriously shouldn’t you have an office space or a building for this….but no he checks out the same room key almost every day like clockwork
Actually doesn’t even live in our township but pays the PLAC fee because he likes our facilities better
Every time he tries to speak to us at the desk and it echoes he goes, “Wow sound really travels in here doesn’t it?”
When you ask him for his name for the financial records he jokingly refuses to tell you because “You should know who I am by now”
CHANGBIN:
Constantly forgets that he has to check out items that are on the holds shelf before leaving
It's such an issue like we've marked more than ten books as missing/lost but it turns out he just took them and left
Regularly attends the adult programming, like book clubs and mental health information sessions, always thanks the presenter for their time <3
Uses the library as Google, will call us and ask “Where’s the cheapest gas station close to where I am?” like sir where are you????
Has a punch card for the coffee machine and will stand around and make small talk while the coffee brews
HYUNJIN:
Gets so unbelievably embarrassed to come up to the desk for any reason as we’re going to verbally berate him for asking us a question
Bitches about every fine no matter how small, will ask for a manager over $0.75.
Seriously he does not like owing money. He got a book wet one time on vacation and paid for it as passive-aggressively as possible
“I’m telling you that the person before me must have done that because I would never treat a book that way, I treat all my books well and I’m one of the most frequent users of the library” like ok sir that'll be $27.99
One of those people that finds weeding atrocious and hates when he sees damaged books in the trash
Constantly complains about how the classics section lacks diversity (he’s right but us circ assistants can’t do anything about it)
JISUNG:
Has about a hundred books checked out on his account and can never remember which ones are next
He has a phone plan with a weird provider so we can’t text him notices and even though we explain this several times he constantly complains that he doesn’t get notices by text
Tries to pay his fines off with Apple Pay and can’t understand why we, a library using a cash register from 2007, do not take Apple Pay
Once used a website that made the computer set off a LOUD ASS ALARM for being a “forbidden or unsafe network” and we were all like what the hell did you do like even porn doesn’t set off an alarm????
Always asks to “use the bathroom really quick” after we’ve officially closed and forces us to stay an extra 20 minutes because we can’t shut anything down until the building is empty
FELIX:
Never actually reserves a meeting room but will always come to the front desk and ask if there’s one available and will be SHOCKED if we’re booked straight through for the day
Regularly brings in books for donation and when he pays fines in cash he always hands us a $20 and says to keep the change <3
Notices every minute change to the layout like “Why are the atlases no longer at the front of nonfiction?” and we’re like when was the last time you even checked out an atlas
Gets embarrassed if a book he wants is in the teen or children’s section and asks us to go get it for him
Can never connect to Libby because he keeps forgetting his PIN number so he calls us to reset it like once a month
SEUNGMIN:
Checks out a TON of DVDs. Treats this place like Netflix fr
Will request we get a movie that’s currently in theaters and we’re like “It’s not even out on disc yet so we literally can’t buy it”
Prefers to hand all his returns to a desk person and watch us check them in while he’s there instead of putting them in the return so he can "make sure" he doesn't get any fines
Asks us why mysteries are shelved separately from all the other books because it’s confusing as to what is and isn’t a mystery (we have no clue either)
Likes picking books off the cart while you’re shelving because they're "peer reviewed" and "probably better than what's on the shelves"
JEONGIN:
Constantly forgets his library card and is forced to come up to the desk so we can check his books out
Does not understand the difference between librarians and circulation assistants and so is always asking circ assistants do work that only librarians can do
“What do you mean you’re not a librarian? Isn’t everyone who works in a library a librarian?”
Thinks literally everything is going to get him banned from the library as if you'd get banned from the library for...using the services we offer?
Got anxious when we entered the room with a giant mallet after he reported one of the tables was stuck and we had to explain we were not going to attack him and we use the mallet to fix stuck tables
Walks away with room keys sometimes and returns them like 30 minutes before we close in an absolute PANIC
#this is the pinnacle of posts that are only funny to me#skz crack#incorrect skz#skz headcanons#skz imagines#bang chan headcanons#lee felix headcanons#lee minho headcanons#seo changbin headcanons#yang jeongin headcanons#hwang hyunjin headcanons#kim seungmin headcanons#han jisung headcanons
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it's in my nature {Tangerine} // 10
ten. tangerine: indistinct by design.
Summary: Tangerine has no idea how to feel about Clementine's possibly attempts at manipulation, he doesn't have the time. None of them do, a fact which is only made more frustrating when Clementine tries to insist on leaving The Twins to do her actual job.
{ Masterlist }
A/N: 2669 words. hello it's been five months its good to see you! yes i'm still writing this, but i'm also working internationally at my day job so that's been taking up a lot of my life lol. but i get so happy every time i think of this fic, even though I was SO stuck on this for MONTHS. anyways, i love you, i hope you enjoy, let me know what you think?
Warnings: Don’t be surprised when the OC is a terrible person and is implied to have done terrible things along with the rest of them.
Chapter Warnings: light discussions of murder
Taglist: @venusthepirate @malar-region @tangerinesgf @esmaada @sarcastic-sourwolf @chuyouchu @justshutupmars @somikesoc @chachadelight @andydre4m @evangelineflowers @darkchai @basementsoup @bellatrix124 @kunikidaswhore @thewinterschildren178 @deadtildeath @folkloreandfall @aniglio18 @geeiz @mimidior @justice-333 @ltlthetrifecta @salsasadd @xkawax @hellsgatelove22 @brownficgirl @tangerineswife @cigarettesandfigureskates @ceciliahargrove @welcometothescreaming20s @moonlight-matcha @thyeb @emilia527 @tangerinefics @charlemagnethesecond @little-miss-bi @megplant @kalli0pes @aaronperryjohnson @nachtcirce @literatureisair @nina-isabelle @queenofspades403 @ayaahaddadd @sweetbutpsychobutsweet
---
Clementine's already dubiously murky motivations were growing even harder to guess at as the day went on. Perhaps she was trying to get him on side, lull him into a false sense of security, sway his perception of her despite everything he'd learned that day. The part that Tangerine found rather infuriating, however, was that it was kind of working. Little things were adding up, things she'd mentioned today, memories of moments back in New York that kept resurfacing, and now, something about the way she'd admitted that making him happy was never part of her job description, he couldn't help but begin to think she was being genuine, at least about that.
He wasn't sure how to feel about it all, let alone her, not that he had time to feel things; later? Perhaps. Now? Not so much.
Slipping into the seat across the aisle from his brother, he can see Lemon's working hard to retain his composure, and despite how tense he's feeling, Tangerine does at least allow himself to breathe. He doesn't relax, persay; none of them are, and he's rather sure none of them really can, even if Clementine may look like she's never experienced a damn hardship in her life. While she's wearing that little smile that almost looks pleased as she sits daintily across from him, gaze roaming, searching the cabin in a way that anyone else could misconstrue as simply curious, Tangerine knows it all too well as her planning her possible escape routes. Lemon takes his focus for the moment, however, glancing furtively between them both.
"Well that couldn't 've gone better," he offers, more hopeful than anything else.
"Yeah, let's hope they buy it," Tangerine grimaces, before looking between them both, "we need to find that glasses twat like right - the fuck - now -"
Except Clementine's phone buzzes.
All three of them turn their attention to her bag.
"What. Now." Tangerine says through his teeth, practically oozing frustration. Clementine, having frantically fished the phone from the bag's depths, looks at the screen, seemingly ignoring him as she stands abruptly.
"Royal pain," she mutters, mostly to herself, and makes a start towards the back end of the train. Before she can abscond, Tangerine's grabbing her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. The moment she looks at his hard expression, it's as if she suddenly remembered he was there at all.
"Something more important to get to?"
"Actually yes," Clementine says with surprising ire, "my job." Again Tangerine's mind lights up at the thought of the girl in first class, and the dishevelled man in the seat adjacent who she'd called her Uncle. Right. Weird. Not his problem right now.
"She's got her Uncle, she'll be fine for a few minutes -"
"What?" Clementine says so sharply he could swear he could feel the sting. A strange look flashes across her face but she can't seem to regain her composure entirely - "no, I really have to go. If I see our man I'll be sure to send him your way -"
"Just one more question, Clem, I promise," it's Lemon's voice that cuts her off, altogether far lighter, far more amicable and earnest, "just before you go; I'm curious." Tangerine notes how he'd used her nickname with such ease, sounding almost jarring, at least to him, since Lemon had exclusively been referring to her as The Scorpion since that revelation - faint surprise reads on Clementine's face, but still she grants him a hesitant smile.
"Not sure if there's time for that," she tells him, still standing, though her tone is almost apologetic. Almost. Lemon's smile is bereft of humour in a way that rather unnerved his brother.
"Humour me would you?"
After a moment of hesitation, Clementine obligingly sits once more. All three of them hear her phone vibrate where she's got it clutched to her chest. Both brothers look to it, but Clementine just holds it a little tighter.
"What do you really sound like?" Lemon asks her, "you're not really from the states; the Late, unfortunate Son of our boss implied as much; whaddya sound like when you're not talking to us?"
"What a dangerous question," her tone and smile indicate that she's impressed with his audacity, but she doesn't answer the question, "making a scrapbook? Is this how you choose to waste time?" It evidentially comes out a little harsher than she'd probably meant it, a sure but surprising sign that he'd touched a nerve.
"Careful with your tone there," Tangerine warns, "just call it part of the explanation you owe us." Tangerine backs up his brother's line of questioning without hesitation.
"I don't think it is," there's a new, faint reservation in her words; despite her promises, she still can't fully commit to being honest with them, "it's not the same; you two don't put the same kind of effort into obfuscating your identities."
"Big word for a girl like you, isn't it? Obfuscating," Tangerine's condescending tone allows a crack in Clementine's armour; she rolls her eyes, expression dropping and lips pursing. Still, he continues to needle her for the information, "you're doing more than your fair share of that now, aren't you?"
"It's my speciality," she gives a flat smile but can't look him in the eyes. She crosses her arms, seemingly letting go of the bright demeanour for a moment, falling back into being quiet and sullen; there's something about the question that appears to bring her more genuine discomfort than Tangerine had expected, "why are you asking me this, Lemon?" Her gaze keeps flicking around, both the cabin behind them, and the Twins themselves, though never looking them in the eyes.
"We want to trust you," it escapes Lemon before his brother can speak, appearing to catch both Clementine and Tangerine off guard.
"I don't believe that," she huffs a quiet laugh, gaze now focused down the aisle ahead of her. After a very long moment of deliberation, however, she takes a deep breath, "what was the question again?"
"What do you really sound like?" Lemon repeats flatly.
"In which language?"
"English, Clem," he sighs, but the irate edge has softened from his voice. Clementine glances over her shoulder for a moment, but then meets his gaze with a vaguely confused frown. Then, seemingly having processed whatever it was that had confused her, she makes a strange expression.
"I heard English in so many accents growing up, lots of tapes from all over the world, I think so I wouldn't have one that would be my default, I think they were afraid that when I was young, if I got into a situation where my accent would drop, it would be telling."
Her phone buzzes again, but this time she just places it face down on the table.
"You don't know," Tangerine says flatly.
"I don't know," Clementine agrees, once more looking distinctly uncomfortable, wearing an expression that seemed to say 'I don't know what you expected'.
"So when you, say, default back -"
"I don't default to English," she pointed out.
"Wouldn't your honest accent be based on your first language then?" Lemon points out, but Clementine shifts, again with an unfamiliar discomfort.
"Steps were taken to erase defining parts of my identity."
"That sounds downright fucking terrifying; what do you mean?"
"It's far more helpful than you might think, though some of the methods could stand to perhaps be more gentle," she gives an awkward, almost self deprecating laugh, before looking straight at Lemon with a vacant smile, "I'm fully ambidextrous, no preference for left or right, always have been."
"Is that why he took fingers instead of a whole hand?" Tangerine hears himself asking. Clementine, however, looks genuinely shocked that he'd made that connection.
"Among several other reasons," she said slowly, "yes." Then, with another furtive glance and a buzz from her phone, "Lemon, you know I'd love to chat and explain myself to you until I'm blue in the face, but we really don't have the time." Lemon's quick to thank her for her willingness to humour him, gesturing as if to say that she's no longer bound by social contract. Again, her phone buzzes as she picks it up and both brothers see her grimace as she goes to answer, voice growing faint as she trots hurriedly away. They both hear how she answers in a completely new accent, however, and Tangerine knows, clear as day, that it's a mirror of the young woman he'd met up in first class -
"What have you done now -"
"Spooky that is," Lemon muses after a moment, before he looks sharply to Tangerine, "Russian, right?"
Tangerine frowns obvious confusion.
"Her accent," though he amends without even a beat, "or, no, her original accent; do you think she's Russian too?"
"As far as probability goes," Tangerine says after a bit of thought, "chances aren't zero, I'll give you that."
"Well what's your leading theory?"
"I have bigger things to worry about than Clementine's country of origin, like that fuck with our case, and a fuckin' murder mystery," Tangerine scowls, "what's it even matter now?"
"I've been thinking- well, I've been panicking, wracking my brains," Lemon's half-rambling, leaning across the table to whisper to Tangerine the moment Clementine's out of earshot; his gaze doesn't stray from the door she'd disappeared through, "tryna figure out how she's connected to what happened with you in Russia all those years ago, and for the life of me I can't figure it out otherwise."
"So you think she is Russian?" Tangerine, despite his scepticism, matches his brother's low tone, meeting his conspiratorial energy.
"It matters because I can't rightly remember the details of the case, and I was hung up on them for years because I thought you'd end up dead, but she -"
"- somehow still remembers well enough to maybe want to kill about it," Tangerine sighed, finally realising where his brother was coming from, "despite not being personally tied to them."
"Allegedly."
"Allegedly."
"Or she could have been competition."
"What?"
"Like competition for you; The Scorpion kills her competition, right? Maybe that's why? Took her a good few years after that to make a name for herself, right?"
A long silence followed, Tangerine scrubbing his hand over his face as he ruminates upon this.
"She wasn't the first."
"The fuck else have you done that I need to worry about -?!"
"Not the Russia thing, do you really think I wouldn't tell you if I did something like that without you again?" Scowling at his brother, Lemon at least has the grace to give him that. After a long moment, Tangerine exhales his frustration through his nose, sitting back in his seat, "wasn't the first like her, who kills her competition, was she? If she's been doing this for as long as I think, then she's kept a low profile until the past few years; she wasn't the first, and I doubt she'd be cut about that a decade after the fact, even if she was one to hold a grudge that long."
Lemon took a deep breath.
"Maybe that's why she killed The Cockroach."
"What are you talking about?"
"The Scorpion killed The Cockroach," Lemon insists, "'s what I heard, 's why she is the only one who does what she does anymore." It's ringing a very faint bell bell; Tangerine hasn't consciously thought about The Cockroach in a very long time. All Tangerine tries recalling everything he'd heard about the operative in the few years they had been operating, but he can't call to mind much that's positive.
They'd been scum, with friends in high places that kept them from being a target the way they sought to target other operatives in their path. Rumours said they were like an alien to encounter, cold and strange to anyone outside of their targets, bug-like with they way they watched, and their skittish nature; he thinks he recalls the derisive way someone once compared them to a preying mantis, or an alien. The Cockroach, despite their reputation, and everything they were rumoured to have done, everything they'd supposedly endured. Even when they weren't targeted by fellow operatives, their jobs were often said to be dangerous and required close contact. The Cockroach was said to be unkillable, in more ways than one.
But then, one day, though Tangerine supposed it would be a different day for everyone, he realised he hadn't heard anything about The Cockroach in months. Everyone stopped hearing about The Cockroach, but no-one really acknowledged it, or knew why. Rumours circulated of course -
"You know I'm right," Lemon says, sounding just a touch smug in the way he only ever did when he was menacing his brother.
"I think you're distracting yourself -"
"You're thinking about it, and you know I'm right."
"Well right now she's not trying to kill us, so I don't give half a shit about who she has killed, or if she's Russian, or English, or American -"
"Well once we untangle ourselves from this bloody mess, ten-to-one odds she's gonna decide to start being a problem, so it matters -"
"Not right now it doesn't," Tangerine snapped finally, and took a moment to attempt to compose himself with very little success, "we're looking for that glasses-fuck; I'm gonna go up, you go down, double back when you're done. If you see him, fuckin' deal with him, yeah?"
His brother is covered in blood that Tangerine hopes to God isn't his; he can't look at him right now, even as he's finally focusing back on their situation at hand. So Tangerine casts his gaze to the door Clementine had just passed through, trying to keep the description - glasses, blonde, American - in his mind, trying to recall anything else he can about the bastard who'd startled him earlier without Tangerine realising that he'd been the thief.
Except that it occurs to him that he's not even sure what counts as up and what counts as down on a train. Of course Lemon would know -
"- towards Tokyo," Lemon clarifies, pointing in the other direction, "departing trains are always moving down." In all honesty, Tangerine doesn't know enough about trains to confirm as much, and Lemon already seems to be wary of Tangerine's dubious relationship with Clementine; for all he knows Lemon's concerned about his focus too, and trying to keep him from getting distracted. It doesn't sit well with him, however neither does acknowledging that Clementine has a knack for being able to distract him when she wants to. Either way, he trusts his brother on this - "and look, be careful," Lemon, as if hearing Tangerine's thoughts, turns to him, gaze intense, "something else is going on here," his voice is still low, still conspiratorial, as if he can't bring himself to trust any of the unsuspecting civilians around them, "I feel like there's still another Diesel lurking about."
Fucking Thomas the Tank Engine.
"I swear to God, what did I say?" Tangerine hissed, fed up with this bit his brother insisted upon doing, "what did I say?" Any other day, hell, any other time he'd humour his brother in this, but right now was not the time - "I said I'd -"
"Shoot me in the face," Lemon finishes with exasperation, but clearly it's more than a bit, "Thomas still taught me how to see people, how to read them for real," he points out firmly, which Tangerine does agree to, "and I'm never wrong, am I?"
"No," Tangerine concedes.
"Glasses," Lemon insists, "he is not our guy. We still have another fuckin' bug to look out for."
Right, The Hornet.
Tangerine lets himself breathe for just a moment. He trusts his brother, he always has; Lemon's instincts have never been wrong before.
As he pulls out his gun, Tangerine deliberates for a bit, gives himself a million reasons before he hands it over - Lemon's a better shot at close range, if one of them were to spot The Hornet first his money was on Lemon, Lemon's less likely to shoot the wrong person - but knows deep down that if he let his brother leave unarmed, and something happened to him, Tangerine would never forgive himself.
"Shoot first, come up with the answers later."
#tangerine bullet train imagine#tangerine bullet train x oc#tangerine bullet train x reader#bullet train tangerine#bullet train fanfic#bullet train movie#bullet train#tangerine bullet train#lemon bullet train imagine#lemon bullet train#tangerine imagine#tangerine x oc#tangerine x reader#bullet train 2022#tangerine x clementine#its in my nature#bullet train oc
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hihi!! i saw your 1k celebration post and i thought the idea was so so so cute :< so i'm sending in an ask!
i'm a pisces sun, gemini moon and aries rising, my mbti is infp-t ^^
my hobbies are usually gaming (cause i'm a stinky gamer), reading and listening to music 🎧
my fav fic of urs is the txt as your bf headcanon because tell me WHY it gave me 1303 butterflies in my tummy (hehe see what i did there with the number)
i'm so excited to see your writing and here's a virtual kiss! >3< chu~
THE VIRTUAL KISS IS SO CUTE OMG!!! :* CHU!!! <333 anon, i have THE date for you
BEOMGYU + DAY AT THE ARCADE 👾
besides the fact that you and gyu are both gamers, your suns and mbtis match up <3 i think you'll have a lot of fun together huhu c:
if you thought this was going to be a fun and romantic date, you thought WRONG. beomgyu has made it his personal mission to beat you in every. single. game. (mostly because he wants your approval and praise <3 but he'll never admit it outloud) whenever you beat him, he sulks until you give him a kiss on the cheek (please give him a kiss on the cheek)
"i definitely let you win that time."
"yea, yea. tell that to my 100 tickets."
he takes cute pictures of you on the motorcycle game, posting it on his story with the caption "my little racer 🏁❤️" because you're just too cute and he loves to show you off!!
beomgyu swears that he can win whatever plushie you set your eye on (and even though he fails like the first 20 times, he's DETERMINED to win that bear for you!) when he does, he brags about how "ez" it was for like a good 10 minutes (dont say anything okay just let him have this)
"you should name it 'gyu' because it's as cute as me," he says, blinking dramatically at you with the coyest smile you've ever seen. (and yes, you will be naming it 'gyu')
it's even funnier when you try the same claw machine and win a tiger plushie in one go. he pouts for a bit, but once you say you won it for him, he's all smiles and hugs!! prepare to be engulfed by a clingy beomgyu for the rest of the day
when it gets late, he takes you out to eat and you guys sit in his car listening to music, talking about anything and everything <3 he's your best friend, and the fact that he's your boyfriend too? ten times better
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It's October 18th which of course means it's time for my annual waavaposting :')
every year I start writing this post thinking "I have nothing new to say" lol. It's always kind of the same thing: I love Wan/Raava, I love the friends I've made because of them, I hope everyone's doing well even if we haven't talked in years and years. maybe it's silly that I keep writing these, year after year, but I like the routine I guess haha. Waava/LOK was my first time really venturing into an online community and, for better or for worse, that means something to me.
this year it's the ten year anniversary of beginnings first airing and I feel like that's supposed to mean something extra. like....10 years!!! that always felt like a Big number to me. so many things have changed in the world and in my life since then, obviously.
but here's a little secret...today is not my beginnings watch-iversary. back when lok book 2 was airing, I didn't have nickelodeon at my house, so I would watch the episode the day after online. I remember watching beginnings hunched over my laptop on the floor of my room and just being....totally captivated by wan/raava. I walked around the day after watching the episode in kind of a daze, lol. It was my first time ever being THAT fixated on something.
and, I guess, my real waava-versery would be next month, since I didn't join the community until after the book 2 finale aired. but today is still special to me. I hardly use this site anymore but I still come back every year around this time to make this post. it's a precious tradition to me at this point. I hope I can keep doing it.
so, as always:
I love you, Wan and Raava! I love your devotion to each other and to doing the right thing and to trying to make the world a better place. Thank you for everything <3
I love you, my friends, some who I still am in touch with, some who I am not. Wherever you are I hope you're safe and happy <333
See you next year, I hope :)
(special shoutout to @pinacoladamatata and @ebonynightwriter for rewatching beginnings with me today. thanks for indulging me <3)
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OH EM GEEEEEEEEE i missed u so much
literally never been happier to see a person come back on the internet before. i just wanna say that you basically raised my fanfic self and i think of you all the time when i come online. you have been one of the only people i have ever read that has such unique and personal characters. they could easily be standalone works unrelated to bts, which i think they have become for the ceemen as a lot of us move away from the group as we grow. even going back now and reading the fics they still hold strong which is amazing !
now that the pleasantries are over i sent an anonymous ask SO LONG AGO (years i think) asking you to name my new (not so new now) car for me and you didn’t!! and now whenever someone asks me what my cars name is i think of you. so i will now ask mechanic!yoongi to name her for me since he probably cares about my poor neglected car. me and u have beef cee, but i am still madly in love with you and your beautiful writing 😋
p.s. to help him out it’s a silver toyota corolla if he needs a general vibe
this is such a sweet message i literally read it ten times over and i still don't know how to respond properly because i am just so!!!!!! touched!!!! it means so much that you think that and feel that way about the stories :')) i'm busting my ass in grad school so i can make my dreams come true and publish books one day and this message made me feel so much better about my decision to pursue a writing degree <333 ahHhhHH i can't wait to post new stories for you guys i'm so excited to be writing again and interacting with everyone
ok we have beef WHATEVER i'll hand u over to mechanic!yoongi smh
"Woah, look at this handsome guy- he looks like a Jackson to me. Doesn't he look like a Jackson to you?"
"He looks like a car to me."
"You don't get it Y/N, look how strong his eyebrows are, look at expressive his eyes are... Yeah, that's a Jackson to me."
talk to my characters!
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Re: This post
First off, congrats on three years, girlie!! This is so cool, man. I love seeing Soulsborne games change people’s worlds and give them passion and inspiration for years afterwards <333
(Now hurry up and get to over ten years like me you scrub 😎😎)
Asfghajsdg but in all seriousness, I love that we both started getting active around the BB tumblr fandom around the same time, because even though I was a Soulsborne junkie, I had never found a stable group of lore-friends to enjoy it with, and throughout 2020-2021, I was just drifting aimlessly after watching my old fandom community collapse.
I had been only using tumblr for random shit on another account before this one, but one day I looked up something about the Doll and Gehrman, kinda wondering if the whole “Even the Doll” creep-theory had any other interpretations. I just didn’t like the idea that Miyazaki had written his main “sad old man” of Bloodborne to be a weirdo because it didn’t sound…right? Something felt really off lol. His “sad old men” types usually are dark because of their grave mistakes that led to the deaths of people they cared about/innocent people.
It’s always more tragic than it is gross, and Miyazaki is big on that type of story-telling. He likes his refinement. Sure enough, that gave me the hunch that the Doll wasn’t…ya know.
And voila! I stumble across your brilliant post! I think it was one of the things that made me finally create a Soulsborne blog because I wanted to reblog it. I’m not sure if that’s the exact timeline, but it was definitely part of what drew me over here.
And now here we are, going strong, trying to move on after going through fandom drama hell, and it’s been three years!
Honesty? You are kicking ass <3
Girl you say this, but at the almost same time, Fantomette also started scouting the fandom and figured she wanted to stick with me over that post :pensive: That post makes me extremely nostalgic! It was just... so chill, so nice, so leveled. 0% fatigue. Where did that nice version of me go and who is this angry unlikeable bitch typing this ask response now? xD
But yeah, overall, Soulsborne games are just written in such a way that it genuinely helps to know all of them on at least basic story level to understand each of them individually! The more I learned about reoccuring themes in other games in the series, the better my lore understanding became. You know I would not do shit on Research Hall and Deep Sea without DS3, or better grasp ER characters without entire DS trilogy! If you don't want to play, just learn their themes and story, I promise it helps a lot!
Anyways thank you for the nice words; I had not even noticed how fast the time went by! It feels like I have not done "enough" considering three years span, but maybe I am underestimating myself and focusing too much comparing amount of my drawings compared with faster and more talented artists. After all, fandomry is first about discussions and passion, and I've had nothing BUT that on the way x) So yeah, let's just give up and die watch fandom crash and burn. Because, you know what? THE very "system" that made it crash and burn to begin with will also, eventually, crash and burn, and something good will sprout from the ruins. And we won't miss it! Except, that good era will also crash and burn eventually. And then the thing that destroyed it will. And then what people build from THOSE ruins will. And then another thing... and another thing... and another thing.....
STILL I want you to be there for me through every turn of the downward spiral, you chicken <3 *stabs u affectionately*
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hello op do tell me what is the wangxian fic you mentioned in the tags of this post https://www.tumblr.com/tittyblade/711997184926711808?source=share i am very much interested in a fic with lots of gender
thank you so much and hv a great day <3
(x) HELLO IM SOOOO GLAD YOU ASKED BC IT MIGHT BE MY ALL TIME FAVORITE WANGXIAN FIC SERIES <3333
See all this and more for just ten dollars a month! by ScarlettStorm
its a modern setting OF au. wangxian met in college and theyve been friends for 10 years, obviously pining like hell and cant do anything abt it for the fear of it messing w their friendship LOL. then things change and they change.
the first book focuses on how their relationship comes to be. its got good conflict n even better conflict resolution <33 if you’re specifically asking for what the post says that doesn’t come until the second book i think? there are still QUITE gender parts in the first book too tho. especially if youre into fuckin around w gender presentation <3 there are certain scenes where reading it gave me so much secondhand gender euphoria. reading this series (n im not even done yet!) made experimenting w my gender both identity and expression wise so much more fun. its definitely a comfort series for me <3
some of my favorite bits abt this series:
lan zhan is autistic and his autism is written rlly nicely. making me reconsider trying to get a diagnosis bc of how relatable he is to me LOL
same with wei ying and adhd
they both fuck up but work thru it together. theyve got really good communication and honestly its so refreshing to read people in a genuinely healthy relationship (it gets worse before it gets better)
^i should add to that. its written from lan zhans pov and quite a few of the first chapters are. anxious. the narration reflects the mental state of the characters so reading those first chapters were a bit uncomf for me but TRUST me. it gets so much better. its still definitely worth to push thru it and keep reading it.
the gang goes to therapy bass boosted! not getting into more details bc spoilers. just read it. its written very realistically which i adore.
nie huisang is nonbinary n goes by they/them <333 incorporating it into my belief system. they’re also a. sort of indie fashion designer WHICH??? I LOVE???? they work w burlesque performers so you can get a sense for their creations <3333
ScarlettStorm, the author, is a burlesque performer herself!! she know what shes writing. which shes Good at. (shes also on tumblr so if youre seeing this HI. i adore your fics)
in the second book, you get social commentary thru the characters’ dialogues abt things like being queer, being a sex worker, etc. which to me felt INCREDIBLY satisfying to read. even just writing queer characters living a good life is a form of resistance.
the smut is like. really really good LOL. thats all im gon say abt it find it out for yourself
#mdzs#wangxian#wangxian fic rec#nsft#suggestive#THIS SERIESSSSSSSS oh my GOD this series#its on the longer side i think but. its got you wishing it was wven longer. trust me#im near the end of the second book i havent read it in some while bc once i start again its impossible to stop reading for me LOL#you KNOW a story is good when it makes you completely reconsider your identity and genuinely change you#thank u for asking me abt it given the chance this is one of those fics ill never shut up abt <333333#asks#owlfindmydream
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