#I may have shed a tear whilst reading this for the first time and some subsequent times and also when copying it out here

[animartiin]

I posted 1,209 times in 2022

That's 1,091 more posts than 2021!

58 posts created (5%)

1,151 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@redstonedust

@daily-grian

@dailyrendog

@daily-ethoslab

I tagged 1,190 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#red mourners' art - 369 posts

#solidaritygaming - 286 posts

#red mourners' talk - 242 posts

#tango tek - 206 posts

#grian - 165 posts

#goodtimeswithscar - 159 posts

#team rancher - 151 posts

#pearlescentmoon - 136 posts

#smallishbeans - 121 posts

#empire citizens' art - 117 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#i've already got a load of stuff i'm watching/reading (both mcyt and other) but the temptation to see what's up with this is too strong

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

the Canary can't sing, won't sing

not yet

not so soon

he has fallen but once and that is not enough

but he can speak

can utter harsh words and spit accusations

bury that man in blame 'till he drowns

say "it's all your fault

you should have been more careful."

he doesn't though

the thought crosses his mind but he says no

in the forest at the beginning of the end, he says,

in not quite these words, "It's not your fault"

to bleed and to fall is the Canary's life

more so than some others

but there are worse things than endings

there are worse people than those who bring about them

the Canary takes the hand of his killer

his spark in the coalmine

there is nothing to forgive

99 notes - Posted June 24, 2022

#4

"The power of belief and disbelief is too often underestimated or outright forgotten."

The power of belief and disbelief is too often underestimated or outright forgotten.

None know this so well as Mezalea and its citizens. They know from experience that certain things, not all things, but certain things only have power if you give it to them. Faith can make or break a plan, can lead to the death or survival of a people. Faith, or the lack of it, in certain circumstances can make for the greatest of defences.

Thus, if the Mezalean King says that he can see nothing, if the Mezalean King says that he can hear nothing, there is nothing to fear, nothing that can hurt you. The one they call "Demon", "Corruptor", "Champion of Exor", has no power on your shores of red sand and terracotta, cannot bring harm upon any of you whilst you still live and breathe and deny his existence.

Likewise, if the Mezalean King says "fight for our allies", if the Mezalean King says to defend those to whom he has sworn his heart, you will. By whatever higher being or beings you may or not believe in, you will; because Mezaleans are nothing if not a loyal people. It is only right, in their eyes, that they should do so. Saltwater or driftwood1, it's all the same. To shed blood, sweat or tears for those you love, regardless of who or what they are, in battle or in art, is the greatest of gifts.

He is undoubtedly a man who delights in bloodshed and beauty, stubborn as anything when it comes to grudges, yes, but he is also one who places love and loyalty highly, willing at times to forgive and forget those same past insults2. Furthermore, it was this admiration of beautiful things and natural stubborness that caused Mezalea to become what it is today. He, as well as all those who looked at this mad man and decided that he was the one they would follow, transformed an all but empty, arid mesa into a colourful and brilliant nation brimming with life.

After all, among the first things any visitor catches sight of upon entering the Matral Palace is testaments to said love of his; embassies built by his beloved wife and brother-in-law, given pride of place inside of the palace he had spent so many long years carefully building up block by block.

It's because of all this that King Joel has his people's trust. Something which I think we can all agree is far from misplaced.

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

1 An Oceanic phrase denoting bonds of both blood and chance, meaning that the ties between family and friends are equally as precious, though the exact meaning is untranslatable into any other tongue. The phrase "blood and water" is similiar, though the meanings don't quite match up well enough for one to be substituted for another. I picked up the phrase during my stay in the Ocean Empire a little while ago and I couldn't resist the opportunity to make use of it (especially considering the fact its queen, Lizzie, is married to King Joel, making it all the more appropriate).

2 Long story short, a few decades back, when Mezalea was still sorting itself out and wasn't quite standing firmly on its feet, Count fWhip called King Joel poor. His Majesty, being His Majesty, took offence to that insult and held a petty grudge against him for years. Right up until a couple of years ago when he suddenly went right over to the Grimlands to play the Count a song (occasionally nicknamed the “Kiss Track” by some) asking that they put aside their past conflict and become allies (suggesting that they go bug and/or kill one of the other rulers if I remember right).

111 notes - Posted February 2, 2022

#3

Team Rancher team pet chickens. They are nicknamed after each other.

(Already posted this in the Team Rancher discord a few days ago. Can’t believe I forgot about it ‘till just now.)

113 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

#2

tubbo what. sir, what is your obsession with the cage life.

140 notes - Posted October 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Anyways, I have come to the conclusion that Pearl is 10/10. An absolute delight.

162 notes - Posted January 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[cilogram]

Memory of Jacques Tati, by Ron Mael

Jacques Tati entered the lobby of the Paris Hilton looking very much like Monsieur Hulot---same raincoat, same determined gait. “Hello, I’m Jacques. You can pronounce it like ‘Jack’.”

When a band is given the opportunity to appear in a film, it usually is a cameo in a prom night scene with adoring teenage actors feigning hysteria at the lip-sync performance of their new song. Here we were, in 1975, being given the chance to make preparations to appear not in an American teen comedy, but in a French film, a Jacques Tati film, and not as a performing band in one scene, but as actors in the entire film with Mr. Tati.

A Swiss record company executive had thought there were similarities in sensibility between Tati’s view of the world and ours. We were under no illusions as to the relative genius of Tati versus Sparks, but we kept our mouths shut and a meeting was set up in the Paris Hilton.

Perhaps Tati, who we doubted had ever heard of Sparks, had accepted the meeting and the inclusion of us in his next film as an attempt to widen his audience. We, of course, never asked him whether it mattered that we weren’t actors. The process began.

Over the next several months, we had numerous discussions with Tati in his Paris office about the planned film “Confusion.” It was to be centered in a television studio with Russell playing a television director and me playing some sort of technician.

We learned that the oft-debated “auteur” theory in film did at least exist in Tati’s world. Attending the meetings were only Tati, his sketchbook and notepad, his personal assistant, and the two of us. Our job during the “collaboration” was mostly to marvel at the brilliance of his ideas, a job made easy by the brilliance of his ideas. Each meeting would typically begin in the French manner of starting a statement with “no”, as in “No. we must be certain we are completely prepared before beginning anything,” in effect contradicting a statement that had never been made.

As the meetings progressed, it seemed as if there was a basic structure in his notebook on which to hang “gags.” I use the term “gags” with some hesitation as these were not modern American comedy-type gags or even silent comedy gags, but more visual playthings or visual puns. A highly decorated military general, wearing numerous colorful battle ribbons on his chest, finds the colors of these ribbons begin to run down his uniform into a pool on the floor. Another character would be shown to leave the frame of the film, much as Tex Avery characters sometimes do, perhaps in order to make you aware that you are in fact watching a film. Jacques, tell us where to stand and we’ll do anything.

Outside of his office, Tati seemed always to be studying peoples’ movements and behavior. He would always take public transport, never a taxi and most certainly never a limousine, in order to be able to watch people and not feel sheltered from the surroundings. Even a lunch at a restaurant would be more than just steack-frites, with Tati asking a waitress what part of the animal a certain cut of meat came from. When she demonstrated and left the table, he would mimic her action, not in a mean-spirited or patronizing way, but in what seemed like the transformation of her simple act into a ballet move.

At one point in the series of discussions in Paris, Tati and Sparks were asked to be guests on a Swedish television show. Tati’s only request of the show was that they supply a white horse for his use during the TV performance as a “prop.” No problem! (Our 25 year long search for a video copy of this performance ended when our recent pilgrimage to the same Swedish television station revealed that copies of the show no longer existed. Tragic). Soon, our meetings with Jacques Tati occurred less and less frequently. Perhaps there were financial problems. Perhaps there were health problems. We never knew. Finally, sometime late in 1975, our meetings stopped.

People in bands are always selfish about one thing or another. My selfishness was wanting to forever be linked in some small way to the brilliance of Jacques Tati. How ironic that after 30 years as a musician, my sole regret is not being able to have appeared in a French film, a Tati film. I will always remember that first Jacques Tati entrance into the lobby of the Paris Hilton and how, in a sense, being in his presence for even a short period of time made me an actor in Monsieur Hulot’s world.

------- Ron Mael

This essay was written by Ron and appears on pages 30-32 of the Guide Book. Paragraph breaks added by me for readability; punctuation/spelling errors are the book’s own. For copyright reasons, I haven’t included the Japanese translation by Tsuzuki Hajime, my apologies.

[softyoongiionly]

Talk to Me in Korean (Advanced Edition)

Your boyfriend’s English is basically better than yours at this point.

After an amazing birthday, he decides to use his newfound skills to get ahead and begin planning next years celebration.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Genre: established relationship au, domestic au, idol! jk, this is a part three to my other talk to me in korean installments but they don’t have to be read in order :)

A/N: Hiiii I’m back??? Hopefully??? This past month has been ROUGH (but like 2020 am I rite?) so I’ve been having a ton of writers block but as always, Jungkook has a way of pulling me out of all of the that. I’m sorry this is like my 50000th domestic jk story in a row ok??? I CANT HELP IT, ITS HIS FAULT. okiii anyway I love you, it’s 3am- this is unedited and im so sleepy. I love you again. 

Warnings: smut (18+ only plz), more so dirty talking than anything but stillll 

Fresh coffee.  

It’s the first thing Jungkook smells when his eyes peek open.  

His flush against the white cotton of the pillow that still holds the scent of your shampoo.  

He literally can’t help the grin that erupts onto his lips as he remembers exactly how the night before played out.  

As he remembers exactly where he is.  

He remembers that his members had organized a surprise dinner for his birthday party which included the finest selection of meat, veggies and various other side dishes money could buy.  

Not to mention, they ended the evening the introduction of a giant banana milk themed cake.  

Despite stuffing himself till near immobilization as well as being surrounded by his best friends, nothing could have prepared him for his final gift: you.  

The boys had flown you in from out of town and organized for your arrival in the middle of the party.  

Jungkook may have shed a few tears as nothing could have made him happier than seeing his beautiful girlfriend pushing through the doors of the venue.  

Once the boys had gone to home, Jungkook had taken you up to his room to finish off the evening with birthday sex.  

Predictable? Maybe.

Did either of you care? Absolutely not.  

It had been 3 months since the two of you had seen each other and he was nothing short of desperate for your touch.  

Now however, he’s experiencing a different kind of bliss as the smell of bacon begins to waft in through his cracked bedroom door.  

His smile broadens as he realizes very quickly that the same beautiful woman who had made his birthday so special had woken up early to make him breakfast.  

He cannot begin to imagine how lucky he is but, he plans on using his day off to show you how much he appreciates you.  

In a million different ways...

Running a hand through the raven locks on his head, he pushes himself to a sitting position. Upon doing so, he notices the faint red marks over the valleys and curves of his stomach whilst simultaneously feeling a hint of pain across the middle of his back. He smirks to himself and curiously runs the tips of his fingers over the aggravated flesh of his stomach.  

What a night...

He finally stands up, moving his body in every necessary direction to stretch out the soreness in his muscles before taking note of his current attire.  

Given the events of last night, it surprised him that he had even managed to pull on the pair of white boxer-briefs that currently adorned his figure. He assumed he had fallen asleep naked.  

Jungkook experiences a pivotal moment then, completely on his own.  

He realizes that he doesn’t want to put anything else on.  

To some people, this wouldn’t be a big deal but to Jungkook, its everything.  

When he first travelled to Seoul, he was too shy to remove his shirt in front of his hyungs, let a lone strut around the dorm in his boxers.  

But with you, he’s finally starting to realize that not only is he comfortable with you but, he has a massive desire to express that to you.  

He wants you to have parts of him that no one else has.  

He wants you to know that you’re the only one who gets him this way.  

Without the fancy clothes, the layers of makeup, the band aids on his tattoos, the carefully scripted words and persona...

That you alone have all of him.  

He chuckles to himself, running a hand through his hair once again as he picks on himself for making such a big deal out of something so small.

But he knows that you’d get it and that quickly squashes any of his desire to make fun of himself.  

As he approaches his bedroom door, he feels the ghost of nerves directly in the pit of his stomach.  

Why was he nervous? You’ve literally seen him naked before.

He’s been inside of you more times than he can count so why was he overthinking going out to greet his girlfriend in his boxers?

He rolls his eyes at himself, “Because you’re weird, that’s why...” He mutters to himself before finally pushing open the door.  

His kitchen is off to the left, slightly tucked behind a bit of wall and he is annoyed with the layout of his apartment because he is getting in the way of immediately seeing your pretty face.  

When he does see you however, it’s entirely worth the wait.  

You’ve got a portable speaker set up a safe distance away from your work station emitting a bit of soothing music throughout the kitchen along with a pot of fresh coffee on the island with his favorite Iron Man mug sitting right next to it, awaiting his arrival. There’s a few pans on the stovetop sizzling with various breakfast items that Jungkook doesn’t care to notice at first because his eyes are far too concerned with you.  

And boy does he desperately wish that this was his daily life...

Your wear minimal clothing as well but there are fuzzy socks on your feet and a bit of bedhead adorning your crown and that’s really all that he needs to see to conclude that you are the most fantastic thing to ever grace the planet.  

“G’morning...” He nearly mumbles, placing a hand on the counter.

He ensures his voice is soft enough not to startle you and thankfully his presence emits nothing more but a smile from your lips.

You turn towards him with the same smile, eyes raking over his body shamelessly before returning his greeting, “Good morning birthday boy. Did you sleep ok?”

He chuckles lightly, his head cocking to the side in confusion, “My birthday was...yesterday yeah?”

Your smile grows at his question as you make your way over to the sleepy man before you.

“It was.” You concede and as you near his figure, you slide your hands around his waist, “But I wasn’t with you the whole day so, I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

Immediately, he grins boyishly his capable hands sliding up your body to pull you flush against his.

“But you already gave me so many presents...” He insists, leaning towards your lips, “Remember last night?”

You take a moment to admire how good his English has gotten and silently applaud him for managing to lead such an incredibly busy life and learn a second language all at the same time. You try your best not to vocalize your praise to often though because you know how shy it makes him.  

Before you can answer, he presses his lips to yours, humming gently in his throat and promptly smiling into your mouth.  

As you indulge in him for a moment your fingers gently brush the tan skin across his back. Your touch sends a shiver up your boyfriends back which then gives you no choice but to return the smile present in your kiss.

“Duh...” You murmur which prompts a delighted chuckle to escape his mouth, “How could I forget? You were like superman last night with all that stamina...”

Your observation causes your boyfriend to frown playfully as he points to the mug sitting atop the counter.

“Not superman- Iron Man.” He insists, still holding you close, the warmth of his presence infecting you.  

With a snort, you pull back slightly to catch the glint in his eyes, “I don’t know how me comparing you to Ironman would make much sense babe but, if you want to be Iron Man then how am I to deny you?”

Jungkook smirks, already satisfied with his response before he’s even uttered it.

“I’m like Iron Man because he is a machine...” He wiggles his brows at you, “...and so am I.”

After the look of incredulity that crosses your face, you have no choice but to laugh, leaning slightly away from him to indicate that you have to head back to your breakfast before it burns.

“Alright fair enough-” You concede, still giggling a bit as his grip tightens on your body, his own beautiful smile still present on his mouth, “I gotta finish cooking, or else we’re gonna have burnt bacon for breakfast.”

He shrugs, unimpressed as he uses his inhuman strength to hug you tighter,  “Bacon is bacon.”

This prompts more laughter as he reluctantly walks to the stove with you, your body still encased in his grip.

“I can’t cook with your mega muscles constricting my arms-” You point out, craning your neck slightly to try and meet his gaze, a ghost of a smile on your lips, which is still locked onto a mixture of mischief and joy.

With a furrowed brow he leans in slowly before pecking your lips quickly and finally releasing you, “What is constricting?”

His question is asked from near the coffee pot, his hands gingerly moving his mug closer to him.

He is VERY careful with this particular mug.

“Constricting is like when you squeeze something really really tight-” You explain softly, taking the now well-done strips of bacon out of the pan before laying them on some paper towels.

He’s pouring himself a cup of coffee, his eyes narrowed in focus as he nods, “Ohhh ok- you mean like how snakes do?”

“Yeah exactly!” You smile brightly, turning towards him with encouragement on your face, “that’s why we call certain kinds of snakes constrictors because that’s how they kill their pray. Honestly, it wasn’t the best word choice on my part because, people definitely use the word squeeze more but-”

He shakes his head then, his eyes still focusing on preparing his cup of coffee, “It doesn’t matter- you taught me another new word without even trying to.” He assures you before a cocky smirk comes across his face, “I bet I know more words than Namjoon-hyung now...”

His comment makes you laugh as his competitiveness is something you adore despite the fact that you don’t fully understand it.

“Oh for sure, you probably know more words than I do honestly, with how often you practice.”  

Jungkook smiles broadens at your praise, his eyes finally flitting up towards you, “Probably.”

He laughs along with you now, the sound of your giggling sending warmth into his heart as he brings the mug to his lips.

“You’re a brat.” You point out simply, still smiling because you literally do nothing else with this kid as you begin to fry up the last batch of bacon.

Suddenly, you feel his presence behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist whilst his nose burrows playfully into your neck, “Noooo an angel.”

Snorting again, you pretend his lips near such a sensitive area doesn’t affect you as you continue with your current task, “An angel? What on Earth would make you think that?”

Your teasing prompts a bout of snickering to leave his lips as he hugs you tighter to him, the soft scent of his hair sending a wave of comfort through you.

“You call me a good boy all the time...”

Although his comment is meant to be innocent, the way he intentionally lowers his tone causes your thighs to press together.

“I do,” You admit, trying to keep it together as you crack a few eggs into an awaiting pan, “I don’t know if that makes you an angel though.”

Jungkook senses the change in your voice and rather then shy away from the direction the conversation is heading, he decides to go with it.  

“That’s true-” He murmurs and it’s then you can feel the smirk against the curve of your neck, “Especially since you only call me that when I’m making you cum huh?”

This causes your eyes to grow wide and given that your flirtatious boyfriend is staring at you already, there is no way for you to hide it.

So instead you play along, enjoying this new side of him more than you care to admit.

“Exactly.” You mutter, giggling to yourself as you feel a bit of heat on your cheeks, “Go set the table or something- you're going to make me burn the kitchen down.”

With a cheeky giggle, he seems satisfied with his mission to fluster you, placing a kiss to your cheek and rushing off to do as you’ve asked him to.

Breakfast passes without any more of Jungkook’s reckless behavior and you’re thankful for it because, you sincerely doubt that you’d be able to focus on your plate when you have a foul-mouthed buffet sitting across from you.

Jungkook insists on helping you clean up whilst also reminding you once again that his birthday was yesterday and that he doesn’t want any more special treatment.

All he wants is to be with you today.

You honor his request by sitting up a massive mountain of pillows and blankets in his living room and situating yourselves in front of his flat screen.

With the curtains closed and the scent of Jungkook’s sea breeze candle wafting throughout the room, the two of you begin watching a movie together.  

However, halfway through the movie, the plans begin to morph into something else entirely.

Armed with newly found confidence, your boyfriend begins kissing you, his hands making their way towards your hips.

The pace of your breathing picks up rather quickly when he suckles your bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling against the swollen flesh.

“For my birthday- next year...” He whispers into your mouth, eyes fluttering open as he nudges your nose, “I want to kiss you all day.”

His request causes you to smile, your hands slowly sliding up his neck to tuck into the hair at the back of his head, “Whatever you want.”

Your response causes his eyes to sparkle with mischief once more, delighted at how willing you are to give him whatever he wants, “Oh- it’s whatever I want hm? Just like that?”

The way he’s speaking to you makes you a little light headed and rather than try to reign back his bout of authority, you decide to run with it, “Just like that.”

Your response is spoken into his mouth, the kiss between you breaking so he can maneuver you onto your back. For a moment, he braces his hands on either side of your head, his perfect body hovering over you, with only the long strands of his hair and the thin silver chains around his neck reaching for you.  

“What if-” He grins before grinding his hips against you, the swollen bit of his boxers rubbing against your clothed core, “I wanted to be in here all day? Would you let me?”

Through the waves of pleasure, your eyes squeeze shut for a moment before you nod, your fingers beginning to wander up the outsides of his forearms.

“Whatever you want...”

His grin is stable but the pace of his breathing is quickening, indicating his excitement.

He wants more out of this conversation though and decides to press you further.  

“Would you let me put my face down there all day too? You wouldn’t have to cook for me if you did...” He points out before his grin morphs into a smirk as he leans down towards your lips, “I’d get full off your pussy wouldn’t I?”

The switch in languages also indicates his level of arousal as his mentioned before that English is far more difficult when he’s wrapped up in his emotions or in this case, his desires.  

Using your nails, you lightly tickle your way up to shoulders tugging playfully to see if he’ll come to lay down on you fully but he doesn’t budge. He merely chuckles and grinds against you once again.

“Patience...” He parrots a phrase that you often utter to him when roles are reversed in the bedroom and the glimmer in his eyes informs you that he is eating up your reaction to him.

“But I want you...” You whine to him, hoping his thing for hearing you speak his language will be enough to break his resolve but he isn’t ready to give in just yet.

“That’s too bad jagiya, I’m not finish planning my birthday just yet.” Jungkook whines mockingly in return, the innocent curls framing his face contradicting his salacious demeanor, “I want to know how many marks you’d leave on me- maybeeeeee...” He draws out the word as his teeth tuck into his bottom lip, “25? One for every year of my birthday?”

Since attempting to tug him down didn’t work out, you decide to wrap your legs around his waist to further some sort of contact between you two.  

“Twenty five? Your stylists would kill me...” You point out giggling, pushing your now damp panties against the swell of his length beneath his boxers.  

Rather cockily, Jungkook snorts and leans down once again to brush his lips over yours, “I don’t give a fuck what the noonas say, they know how to cover me up and, even if they can’t- people are just gonna have to deal with it.” Another smirk forms on his mouth before he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, “it would be really hard for them if they fired me don’t you think?”

You gotta admit, his new found attitude is turning you on. It’s not like Jungkook to be so cocky, despite the way some people may think and although you know for a fact that he’s putting it on for you, you have no problem sucking it up anyway.  

“Definitely. BigHit would have hell to pay...” You concede, your words slightly muffled due to the current location of your bottom lip. Once more your hands tangle their way into his hair and you take advantage of this position to kiss him, hoping that will be enough to convince him to drop the teasing.  

He kisses you back with enthusiasm, his lower body relaxing slightly as more and more of him presses against you.  

“You’re wet.”  He whispers, his eyes still closed whilst he continues to peck at your bottom lip, “Are you ready for my dick now?”  

With his inquiry, he grinds against you once more, sending a shiver of pleasure up your spine.  Your surprised that he spoke the second sentence in English as he usually would have switched fully to Korean at this point.  

“Namjoon’s really been rubbing off on you lately...”  

This insignificant comment lights a fire in Jungkook’s chest and prompts him to quickly pin your wrists above your head. His features hold a bit of disapproval but, mostly they hold that competitive look that is so uniquely Jungkook.  

That “I’m going to win just to show you how good I am” kind of look.

“Why does everyone assume that Namjoon is the most perverted huh? Just cause he talks about it the most? He writes a few dirty lyrics and talks about porn and suddenly he’s the only one who wants to fuck? Jagiya- do you want to know why I look so distracted all the time?” He giggles in an almost maniacal fashion, a dark smirk prominent on his lips as he cocks his head, “It’s because I’m usually thinking about fucking you. Everyone always thinks I’m so shy- so innocent, but you’d let them know huh jagi?  You’d let them know how fucking dirty I am wouldn’t you? I don’t think ARMY could handle it if they knew the truth...” Jungkook offers that same type of laughter once again before kissing you once more, “Now answer my question- are you ready for my dick now?”

His words and behavior stun you a little bit but mostly it just sends more arousal to your core and ruins your odds of putting these pair of panties back on when the two of you are done.  

“Yes sir...” You giggle, saluting him playfully as you wrap your legs around his waist again, “I’m so ready for you- please? Can I have it?”  

Your pleas work immediately on your boyfriend, who is already struggling with his level of arousal and before you know it, he is fucking both you of you into orgasmic bliss.  

It’s over too quickly but it’s the kind of fuck that you know it going to prompt a round two.

Or maybe even a round three or four if you’re lucky...

Jungkook’s head is on your chest now, his arms hugging you tightly to his body, his post-orgasmic glow riding him of any of his previously cocky attitude.  

“I like this.” He murmurs, licking his chapped lips and nuzzling between your breasts.

You smile fondly down at him, “Cuddling?”

He shakes his head, his eyes beginning to flutter shut, “Not just cuddling- but you, being here, at my house with me.”

With a kiss to his forehead, you use your free hand to brush his hair from his eyes, “I like being here with you too.”

There is a bit of color that finds it’s way to Jungkook’s cheeks as he utters a suggestion, “You should stay here with me. I will move my stuff around for you...”

It’s such a simple notion and yet it nearly moves you to tears but before you’re able to breach the topic further, his eyes fully close as he relaxes his weight completely.  

Without clarity regarding whether or not he can hear you, you utter your response into his hair,

“Sounds good, roomie.”

[earnestly-endlessly]

Hi, how are you? Your blog is amazing and your recommendations have already allowed me to read wonderful stories, so thank you so much! I wonder if you could suggest me any cherik fics of them as detectives? I remember reading one a long time ago, but unfortunately I don't know the name and even less the synopsis. Thank you in advance for your help.

Thank you so much @remember5novemberv for your kind words. I'm so sorry this took me so long but I hope you enjoy this list. There are some excellent detective AUs in this fandom so you're in for a treat.

Cherik Detective AUs

Their Mouths Always Lie – keire_ke

Summary: Charles adheres to most police protocols like they are a personal code of conduct. Erik gets things done and over with, for better or worse. Raven knows what she's doing, most of the time. The serial killer kills, regardless. Police AU.

Guilty by Association – Reagan

Summary: While investigating the homicide of a John Doe who he suspects might've been murdered while working the streets as a prostitute, Detective Erik Lehnsherr finds an unexpected ally in a hooker named Charles who seems as determined as he to solve the case. As they become more deeply involved both with the case and each other, there's just one thing that Charles neglects to mention -- that he's really an investigative journalist, one quickly convinced that what they're dealing with is more than simple murder. cop!Erik, fake-hooker-slash-reporter!Charles, Modern AU.

Incy Wincy Spider – Tawabids

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a renowned homicide detective, with his husband Charles at home and his partner on the job, Moira MacTaggert. When a twisted serial killer starts targeting mutants, Erik and Moira are the perfect team for the job, especially since Erik himself is the mutant poster-boy of an NYPD trying to improve their image.

But what they don't yet know is that the serial killer is an old soul out of Erik's past, and his next move is to pull Charles into his web.

The Theory of Partnership Dynamics – Pangea

Summary: “Detective Lehnsherr, how wonderful to see you out on the job!” The fed in the front greets him as they draw nearer. He’s shorter than the other two by a full head, and he’s beaming at Lehnsherr as if completely undeterred by Lehnsherr’s paint-peeling scowl.

“What do the feds want?” Lehnsherr asks bluntly.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the fed answers cheerfully. Then his gaze lands on Alex, and, impossibly, his grin gets even brighter. “Did you get a new partner?"

“No,” Lehnsherr says through his teeth while at the same time Alex says, “Yes.”

Charles’ Killer – luchia

Summary: When detective Charles Xavier finds himself hunting down a vendetta-driven serial killer, it doesn't take long for him to realize he's in over his head. It only takes a little longer for him to realize his killer is, too.

Demoted – JayPendragon

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a detective-specialist with the NYPD Mutant Tactical Unit, ready to help out where his skills are needed. Or he would be, if he and his partner hadn’t been demoted. For the next four months, he is patrolling the Lenox Hill precinct with Azazel – if he doesn’t die of boredom first.

One night they are called in to investigate a potential case of domestic violence, yet the tenant assures them he is both alone and unharmed. However, there is something about this Charles Xavier that compels Erik to follow up.

Watching the Detectives – Clocks

Summary: Detectives Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are good friends and colleagues. However, when they go undercover at a Christmas party to nab a prime suspect, Erik keeps reminding himself to stay professional and ignore feelings of unexpected jealousy.

Oh, Sinnerman (Where you gonna run to?) – TintagelCastle (orphan–account)

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is one of the best homicide detectives in New York. From small time stabbings to high end mob hits, Erik (and his equally scary partner Logan) makes sure all the bad guys get caught, searching for the final clue to nail his mother's killer. As a string of murders draws the net ever tighter on Erik's life's work, he needs to catch the nightmare of his past whilst continuing to be the darling of the Force...

And so what if he's completely in love with the British guy on Forensics? Who's he ever going to tell?

Wrap up my bones – waifornight

Summary: Damaged detective Erik Lehnsherr is grimly searching for a serial killer whose victims all have extraordinary gifts. But without any clues or leads he and his partner Logan are in the dark. Until Charles Xavier, abducted by the killer, escapes. Together Erik and Charles must confront something far darker than either of them had ever imagined.

Alternate Universe loosely based off the crime movie Kiss the Girls.

I’ll see your heart (and I’ll race you mine) – sirona

Summary: For Kriminalhauptkommissar Erik Lehnsherr, this case will change everything.

Paralyzer – Yahtzee

Summary: In 1965, Erik Lehnsherr has infiltrated the NYPD for his own purposes -- but his powers make him a brilliant detective. Yet that's not why FBI agent Charles Xavier has sought him out. It's because the mysterious killer they're both trying to find is murdering people like them: other mutants.

Their search for a madman binds them together. Their inner demons may tear them apart. But the greatest danger comes when the killer they're looking for looks back.

Wrap up my bones – waifornight

Summary: Damaged detective Erik Lehnsherr is grimly searching for a serial killer whose victims all have extraordinary gifts. But without any clues or leads he and his partner Logan are in the dark. Until Charles Xavier, abducted by the killer, escapes. Together Erik and Charles must confront something far darker than either of them had ever imagined.

Alternate Universe loosely based off the crime movie Kiss the Girls.

The Long Bright Dark – lachatblanche

Summary: Ten years ago Detectives Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr closed the case on a grotesque series of murders that continue to haunt them even in the present day. When they are pulled in for questioning a decade later, they finally have confirmation of something that they have both suspected for a very long time - that there is unfinished business for them to take care of and that the case they thought they had closed so very long ago is in reality still all too open.

A True Detective AU.

Finding North – ClarkeStetler, Goosenik

Summary: Charles and Erik are (loosely) friends with benefits. They don't share personal details, last names, or anything concrete about their lives. This is ruined rather spectacularly when Charles gets recruited by the Mutant Apprehension Division of the FBI. Surprised is a bit of an understatement for their reaction to finding themselves partnered up and sent out on cases with the team.

Closer (to God) – dsrobertson

Summary: Se7en/The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo AU-ish.

Political journalist and editor, Erik Lehnsherr, has just lost £150,000 in a libel case against businessman, Kurt Marko. Down on his luck and in need of money, Erik is approached by the Metropolitan Police’s Detective Inspector Charles Xavier. Well-known for his investigative journalism, Erik is asked to help in the search for a serial killer in return for £200,000 if the killer is caught.

Wrapped up in murder, religion, and sex, Erik gets more than he bargained for.

Homo Sacer – unveiled

Summary: In a not too distant future, Detective Erik Lehnsherr meets Charles Xavier: street magician, former academician, and telepath.

One Good Day – troll_under_the_bridge

Summary: One case which is going to turn Charles' world upside down, while he struggles to pacify his boss, investigate murders and come to terms with the mess his life has become.

Playing With Fire – professor

Summary: Charles is a detective determined to catch a serial killer.

If the serial killer doesn't catch him first.

Hold on or let go – aesc, pearl_o

Summary: Teenage telepath Charles Xavier takes a job as a consultant, working with prickly police detective Erik Lehnsherr. Charles is used to being on his own and taking care of himself; he has no reason to think that his relationship with this stern, icy man is going to change any of that. (Also known as: Tough Little Baby Telepath.)

MCIS: First Case – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr considers himself a great MCIS agent, and he puts up with a lot from his boss - Moira MacTaggart - in the name of solving crimes against mutants, but he's not so sure about this new empath, Charles Xavier. Their first case together will test Erik's patience, but doubtless be the beginning of a brilliant friendship.

MCIS: Fathers, Sons, and Brothers – Pookaseraph

Summary: Alex Summers has a single case that he has obsessed about ever since coming to MCIS two years ago: Su-M-94-0708-0034, the murder of Christopher and Katherine Summers, and the presumed kidnapping and possible murder of Scott Summers. Very little evidence was found at the time, but hopefully a new team - and new leads - can shed light on the case that left Alex an orphan.

When the Crazies come to town – Chinchillaatthedisc0

Summary: Erik is a surly detective with zero people skills who has just been assigned the murder case of Kurt Marko. Prime suspect? Charles xavier. Who's no where to be found.

My old man is a bad man – faerie_ground

Summary: Sebastian Shaw dies at two am in the morning with a dagger embedded in his forehead. Detective Erik Lehnsherr is on the case, and the number one suspect is the recently widowed Dr Charles Xavier, Sebastian Shaw's husband.

Deep Cover – Subtilior

Summary: Omegas in heat? The perfect whores. Sebastian Shaw? The bastard who kidnaps them for his Hellfire Club. Erik Lehnsherr? A hard-boiled detective who's been on the Hellfire case for months. The catastrophe that unfolds when he goes in on retrieval and finds Charles Xavier still writhing in a Hellfire bed? .... Deep Cover.

A Murder of Ravens – AbandonedWorld

Summary:Charles Xavier is wrongfully accused. Erik Lehnsherr is a top-notch homicide Lieutenant who stumbles upon the case of a lifetime: a serial killer targeting mutants–and only mutants. Charles bides his incarceration waiting on a miracle, reciting Poe's timeless gem in effort to retain his sanity...

Note: Unfinished

[matchamorphosis]

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

𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 | ღ | 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || fluffy fluff! ➳ part one

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

for that is his home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

maybe do lots more than just befriend you...

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

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

a clear look at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he wants to be the reason for that smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it's now or never.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || @cloudystevie ღ @steebsbabygirl ღ @honeychicana ღ @afriendlyblackhottie ღ @chrissquares ღ @denisemarieangelina ღ @hevans-angel ღ @drewsbuzz​ ღ @assoftheamericana ღ @gracechristo ღ @little-baby-vixen ღ @sohoseb ღ @quxxnxfhxll ღ @peachesofcolour ღ @abschaffer1 ღ @sea040561 ღ @afriicanhoe ღ ღ ღ

𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || @burninmatches ღ @lovesguiltypleasuress ღღღ

[shyvioletcat]

this prompt seems made for fireman whitethorn and aelin: “Sitting on the doorstep in the cold, waiting for their S/O to come home from working on christmas day (emergency services?) and hugging them for so long whilst whispering ‘merry christmas’ into their neck and kissing any inch of skin they can reach.” 😭❤️

Here it is! The last one, getting it in on the last day of December with day 5 of the Rowaelin Holiday Celebration. And it’s another baby’s first Christmas thing but I’m not even mad about it. I hope you’ve all had an enjoyable holiday season, considering everything. Thanks for reading guys, sending hugs to everyone. Striking Matches Masterlist

~~~~~

Aelin sat on the swinging bench on the front porch of her home. It was bitingly cold, almost freezing, to try and keep it out she rearranged her fluffy scarf and hugged her mug of hot chocolate tighter. If she were sensible, she would be inside in front of the gas fireplace or even better in bed. But instead she was outside in the cold, waiting for her husband to get home.

Rowan was coming off a night shift and she was waiting for him, too excited and desperate to see him to do anything else. They had been stressing that his roster would have him working for the entirety of Yulemas Day and they were both heartbroken at the prospect. This Yulemas was not just the first in their new home, but it was also their first as a family of three. So when the roster had arrived, showing that his team would be on the night shift during the holidays, Aelin had just about jumped for joy. She had a sneaking suspicion that Lorcan may have had a hand in Yulemas miracle so his present had been particularly good this year as a very heartfelt thank you. Aelin sighed, the cold air biting at her lungs, holding her mug in one hand she reached down for the baby monitor that sat on the bench beside her and held it up to her ear. The only sound she heard was the hum of the feedback, Elspeth was still asleep.

It was then she heard an all too familiar vehicle approaching and Aelin put everything down, her face splitting into an unstoppable grin. Rowan pulled into the driveway and parked his truck, Aelin could see his smile through the window and the shaking of his head. Her knee began to bounce with excitement as Rowan got out of the car and she didn’t let him get much further before she was up and bounding down the steps, throwing herself into her husband’s waiting arms. She felt him breathe her in, his face burying in the scarf around her neck. Then he was kissing her, anywhere her skin was the least bit exposed. That set her giggling as his lips tickled her cheeks, her nose, her earlobe that peeked out beneath her beanie.

“Happy Yulemas,” Aelin whispered into his neck.

Rowan finally pulled back then. “Happy Yulemas, Aelin.” Then he kissed her lips. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing, love.”

Rowan put her down and Aelin shrugged, tucking herself in close as they walked to their front door. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”

“What about Elsie?” Rowan asked, a gentle expression on his face that only appeared when talking about his daughter.

Aelin left the warmth of Rowan’s side to grab the baby monitor and she smiled as she heard soft babbling coming from it. “Looks like she just woke up.”

The two of them bustled inside, shedding layers and hanging them up on the coat rack.

“You go get her,” Aelin said as she unwound her scarf. “I’ll get you a tea.”

Rowa just nodded and headed upstairs while Aelin headed to the kitchen, prepping the tea and the pasties she had bought especially for breakfast today, and some puréed apple for the baby in a fancy little squeezy tube with a spoon on the end. By the time she had put the teabag in Rowan’s mug they two of them arrived in the kitchen. Rowan was whispering to his daughter, her hands on his face, dressed in her festive pyjamas covered in little cartoon reindeer. The sight made Aelin’s chest feel all fuzzy and she walked over.

“Happy Yulemas, my darling,” Aelin said as she kissed Elspeth’s chubby cheeks, earning the mother a smile. “Food or presents first?”

“Food,” Rowan said, depositing Elspeth in her high chair. He pulled it closer to him so he could feed her while he drank his tea and ate as well.

Aelin just watched them together, twin green eyes watching each other. She managed to eat two chocolate croissants by the time the other two were done, and started on a third while Rowan started the clean up. When that was done he picked up Elsie, kissing her cheek like he just couldn’t help it.

“Coming?” He asked wryly when Aelin didn’t move, too busy watching them.

��Yes, yes,” Aelin said, abandoning her croissant. For now.

A large Yulemas tree was set up in the corner of the living room, decorated to perfection and wrapped presents underneath it. Rowan sat on the floor beside it, putting Elsie down to let her roam free. She had nearly perfected crawling at 8 months old, Aelin put it down to her determination to follow her cousin Ruben around. The baby went straight for the tree and found the largest present, which conveniently belonged to her. Aelin sat down next to Rowan and he put his arm around her, kissing her temple before they watched what exactly their daughter was going to do.

Elsie sat on her butt, keeping her hands on the present so it fell in her lap. Her parents laughed as she slapped at it, squealing in delight. Rowan lent forward and ripped the paper a little, giving her a spot to focus on. Elsie took the hint, her little fist clutching at the paper and pulling at it until it started to rip. Aelin lent on Rowan’s shoulder, just watching and thinking. After presents Aelin would send Rowan up to bed for a nap and she would start getting lunch ready. Her parents were coming over, Aedion, Lysandra and Ruben too. Rowan’s big Yulemas present was the surprise of his parents coming as well, sneakily flying in a few days ago. For Elspeth’s first Yulemas they wanted to keep it simple, just spending time with family. Aelin couldn’t imagine it without his parents being there.

But this morning, it was just for them.

Rowan sat forward again, Elspeth making good progress on her present, but he didn’t lean forward to help her. Instead he grabbed a small box from under the tree.

“For you,” he said simply, as he dropped it in her lap.

“Oh, thank you,” Aelin replied, shaking the box.

“You didn’t snoop while I wasn’t here, did you?” Rowan asked, brows high.

“No, of course not,” Aelin said innocently.

Rowan pinched her side, making her yelp. “Why don’t I believe you?”

Aelin just smiled at him before ripping the paper off in one clean swipe. It was a pair of earrings, she could tell by the packaging then she had most definitely checked out last night. She flipped open the lid and choked out a laugh. It was a pair of rose gold hoops, but what had made Aelin laugh was what hung from them. Two little padlocks.

Aelin turned to Rowan, smiling so much her cheeks were starting to hurt. “I love them.”

“I thought you would,” Rowan murmured, his lips meeting hers in a gentle kiss. “Happy Yulemas, Aelin. Thank you for all of this, this life together.”

Tears were starting to prick Aelin’s eyes as she kissed him again. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. Happy Yulemas, Rowan.”

The moment they were sharing together was broken by musical laughter and excited clapping. Little Elsie had finally got the wrapping off her present, revealing a pack of small animals she was trying to pull from the packaging. Rowan smiled, moving forward to lie on his stomach so that he could help her.

“Let me help you, my little love,” Rowan told his daughter and started to dismantle the packaging. Then he booped her on the nose, making her giggle, “Happy Yulemas.”

Elspeth took that as an invitation to tackle his face and try to kiss him, making Rowan laugh as he tried to wrangle her before she took out an eye. It all made Aelin laugh too, wondering how she had been lucky enough to end up with all this, a husband who loved her and a darling little girl who was the light of their lives. It was a very happy Yulemas indeed.

~~~~~

Officially my last fic of 2020. Of course it was going to be Striking Matches.

Tags: @tangledraysofsunshine // @nalgenewhore // @highqueenofelfhame // @galyxsy // @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @http-itsrebecca // @highladyofthesith // @aelinfire-bringer // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @sleep-and-books // @3am-reading // @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius // @rowaelinforeverworld // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @tswaney17 // @mydarlingfireheart // @rowansfirebringer // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @vanilla28 // @fireheart-of-your-dreams // @enquires-state-building // @im-not-rare-im-rarr // @your-high-lady // @mariamuses // @ttakeitbacknoww // @vi0let-femmes // @kindofawalkingpoem // @sleeping-and-books // @armixers-unite // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @princess-galathynius // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @unassumingsodalovesherbooks // @empire-of-wildfire // @brittneym15 // @camerooonchiu // @worldoffae // @mybbyfeyre // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows //  @thesirenwashere // @pilesofriles // @chemicha // @keshavomit // @sarahbringsoutmygay13 // @wifeofchrishemsworth // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @illyrian-velaris // @flowerspringsea // @whitethorn15 // @whiskeybusiness1776 // @notaddictedtoanything // @thereaderandfangirl // @mynewdreamwasyou // @tintinnabulary // @the-regal-warrior // @searchingforbellarke // @queen-of-wings-and-fire // @court-of-fuck-me-daddy // @officialasianbitch // @burningbookz // @viajandosinalas // @chaoticskyy // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @meltalgel-ig // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @hizqueen4life // @the-third-me // @queen-of-glass // @belamoonbeam // @bestmelle // @cursebreaker29 // @b00kworm // @superspiritfestival // @aesthetics-11 // @maastrash // @the-last-apprentice // @charincharge // @aelin-queen-of-terrasen // @scarznstars // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships // @df3ndyr // @trinitybailey2003 // @littleboxofthunder // @ladywitchling // @booknerdproblems // @rowaelin-cressworth // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7 // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10 // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @anntheintrovert // @starborn-faerie-queen // @loudphantomdragon // @alyx801 // @amandaswallowtail // @louiseleblancdiggory // @abookishfreak // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth // @fangirlprincess09 // @maddymelv // @sierrareads // @empress-ofbloodshed // @acciowests // @booksbqueen // @rowanwhitethornisbae // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx /

[meetmymouth]

the one where harry pays his ex’s rent (harry styles imagine)

READ PART 1 HERE Word count: 2,6k Disclaimer: not proofread.

She looks at the phone on the passenger seat. No one called her. Though, there was only one person who would’ve called her that night. She wanted him to call. It wasn’t because she left the house for attention but she at least waited for his text to either ask where she was going or if she was okay.

But it never came.

Once she parks the car in front of the too familiar white building, she grabs her phone and locks the car before going up the couple of stairs that led to Nick Grimshaw’s flat. They weren’t best friends but one: Y/N liked him and two: he lived close.

After a few minutes of greetings and hugs and sad smiles, Y/N finds herself in Nick and now his boyfriend Mesh’s spacious kitchen with a cup of tea in her hands. Nick’s dog Pig sits near Y/N’s legs in hopes of some cuddles and treats.

Mesh was the first to break the silence.

“Going to the shops for some fags, I’ll take Pig too, you two need anything?” bless him, he asks quietly as if he was speaking to a baby.

Nick shakes his head while Y/N could only muster a tiny smile.

And then there were two.

“Let’s sit,” Nick speaks softly and guides Y/N towards his spacious sofa.

She takes notice of the paused rom-com on the TV and she feels kind of embarrassed to have been interrupted the couple’s night.

After a minute of sitting down and looking at each other, she begins talking as if someone had just pressed her ‘on’ button. In between sentences, she starts shedding tears in frustration while at the same time trying not to think about how weird she might’ve looked whilst doing so. She needed a good cry and she was lucky for Nick’s presence.

She tells him everything after Nick gives his word that he didn’t know about what Harry did and that they hadn’t even had a proper chat in weeks.

“So you just left?” he asks later when she stops crying.

He takes the now long forgotten red mug from Y/N’s hands and places it on one of the books that was on the coffee table.

At the sight of her now cold tea, Y/N wants to start crying again as she remembers how Harry also makes a habit of leaving his tea go cold after a few sips. Just the thought of Harry in bed, the reading glasses sliding down his nose slowly and his soft, bare hands holding the mug makes her heart heavy.

“He spent thousands on her. It’s not even the fact that he spent his money on her it’s just-“ she sniffs once more.

She continues:

“Why? Why is he this daft? He always does questionable things out of kindness but this just- it ruined me. How could he not share something like that with me”

“Y/N I don’t even know what to say,” Nick too looks frustrated as he slides his long fingers through his equally long quiff.

She sighs and ignores the urge to throw up the mini tacos she had for lunch that day.

“Look. I don’t really know Camille, only met the girl once,” he admits hesitantly. “I don’t want to point fingers but you know H. What if she manipulated him?“

Y/N didn’t want to put the blame on her because first of all, she didn’t know her and didn’t know her side of the story and second, she wasn’t going to try and shift the blame since it was Harry who accepted to go through such thing. “I feel like shit.”

Nick gives her a broken smile and strokes her arm at the confession.

“Well... understandable.”

She honestly takes no offence at his bluntness; she knew Nick by now and knew him well enough to know that he was very straight forward and never spoke to offend his friends. In most cases.

When she opens her mouth, her phone lights up on her lap. At the cheesy smile of Harry that shows up on her screen, she takes a deep breath.

They both stare at each other until Nick grabs the phone between her thighs and places it face down next to Y/N’s tea. She feels instant relief as he doesn’t pester her about answering it.

“You can stay here tonight if you like, although I know it would make him feel like shit and I would really want you guys to talk this through. Have you at least texted him where you are?” he asks, watching her closely.

“I don’t care about how he feels. He deserves to feel like shit,” she basically scoffs.

“Just send him a text love, let him know you’re safe. I know him, he’s probably pulling his hair strand by strand right now” he tries again which makes her sigh and lean back.

Nick was such a weird person, she thought. In a good way. She met him through Harry but they hit it off as soon as Y/N gave him hell for his questionable fashion choices and his haircut. Since then, they kept in touch and at times, they invited each other over for drinks or dinner since they lived really close.

She felt grateful and loved and it made her even more angry at Harry.

Trying to be more sensible, Y/N reaches for her phone and texts him, ignoring the five missed calls.

At a friend’s. Don’t want to talk rn.

She never doubted his love and loyalty. Even in a situation like this, she knew he loved her. She wasn’t the type to go on and on about the possibility of her partner still being hung up on their ex.

She knew he wrote songs about his ex. A lot of them.

OK, when she first heard Cherry she felt like crying at first but then came to love the song so much so that she never once skipped the song when it came up on her driving playlist and even sang along.

She knew they both didn’t have time for what ifs and immature games like starting arguments about the ex. They were honest with each other and that was enough for them.

Well. They were.

She took pride in always being honest with him- maybe except the time when spent two days morosely contemplating how to tell him how she crashed her car into his motorcycle that left a tiny dent on the vehicle.

Call her selfish but she wouldn’t compare the two together.

“I think I’ll go,” she stands up, giving one last pet to the black pug who was yawning under the coffee table. This made Nick stand up as well.

He looked like he wanted to argue but he wasn’t the type to do so.

“The offer still stands. Just... just try to be open minded about this, yeah? I know what he did is wrong but still.”

“Thanks for the tea and sorry for throwing a pity party at your house,” she tries laughing but only a pathetic chuckle leaves her chapped lips which earns a slap from Nick.

“Come here you,”

They hug until Y/N sniffs again and Nick gives her a one last look.

“You alright to drive?” he asks once they’re standing outside, Nick’s foot squished between the door to keep it from closing.

Despite it being May, evenings were still chilly so she cuddles Harry’s jacket even more, as the faint smell of his cologne remained present.

She smiles- genuinely smiles at his thoughtfulness. “Yeah, it’s like a five minute drive. Thanks again. Mesh seems great, I’m really happy for you.”

He gives her a smile of his own and a side hug before she goes down the stairs, into the car. As she checks the left wing mirror and drives away, she smiles at Nick’s loud ‘love ya’ coming from behind.

When she arrives at the flat, she sees that the light outside was on which makes her feel woozy.

When Harry stays in London, at hers during the winter, he always tells her he would leave the light on since it would get really dark by the time she got home from work. It always made her smile and now it teared her insides apart because how could he be this stupid?

Part of her wanted to go inside, hug him real tight and say, ‘it’s okay, you’re just an idiot but I love you I love you I love you, let’s make a cuppa and watch stupid reruns of Corrie’ but she knew that wasn’t realistic. She knew that wasn’t fair on her, on both of them really.

She knew he knew that she was home because the Mercedes made a lot of noise and they both knew the sound by heart. She also knew that he changed his position on the couch numerous times because he was nervous and didn’t want to seem too comfortable when she came in.

After grabbing her things and locking the car, she walks to the door and then, she was inside the cosy flat.

Harry’s green Nikes were still where she saw them last when she first got back from work. The house still smelled like vanilla. She could still see the dust build-up on the small table that held their keys and other knick-knacks. It was as if nothing had changed and it made her want to break down and cry right next to Harry’s trainers because she was that pathetic.

She takes her shoes off, throws everything near them and goes inside where he could see Harry sitting on their well-loved pink sofa.

If she weren’t this angry and hurt, she would make fun of his greasy curls and pout.

When she was fully inside the living room, he slowly lifts up his head and looks at her. When their eyes met, she hears him sniff.

“You’re back,” he speaks quietly as if there was a baby sleeping in the other room.

She doesn’t reply. In fact, his question makes her angry. Didn’t he see she was back? Why was he breathing so hard? Why was that strand of hair in his eyes? Was she wearing a bra?

As soon as her minds drifts off to a weird place, she manages to turn it all off and concentrate on Harry.

She walks further into the living room and sits down on the armchair, wanting to keep her distance. Her hands immediately find their place between her thighs.

Minutes pass and she finally begins talking.

“I’m not even going to ask why you  didn’t tell me. I just want to know why you did it in the first place because I’m really curious.”

He sniffs again but she knows it’s mostly because of hay fever acting up.

“She called me two months ago. She said she was in a lot of debt. She said she started renting this place downtown LA and that her and-”

“Bloody hell, where was I when you had a heart to heart?” She cuts him off, growing angrier by the second.

“The friend also left her alone at the house so she couldn't to pay the rent herself-” he explains but Y/N’s scoff shuts him up.

“And since you’re like, shitting money, you jumped at the opportunity?” she can’t help but mock him out of frustration.

Harry looks distraught as he slides his hands through his curls. The movement catches Y/N’s attention but she lowers her gaze so that she wouldn’t think about how soft his curls looked despite the grease.

He opens his mouth again, probably to tell her off for cutting him off for the second time but he knew better than that.

She then blinks twice when their eyes meet again, to tell him to go on.

“It was a mistake,” Harry starts, “I know and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. You and mum always tell me off for being too nice and well, you’re right. Of course you are.”

When she doesn’t speak, he continues:

“I paid two instalments of her rent. I felt bad for her but I knew- I know that it was stupid of me. I know and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you or- or talk to you before,” he gulped and slid his fingers through his hair. “I knew I fucked up after the money went through. I now have nothing to do with her, I promise you. I know you’re angry with me. Rightly so. But please know that I’m sorry. I really am,”

He looks close to tears and Y/N sighs, going to sit down next to him on the sofa. This surprises Harry and he looks down.

“You’re just- you’re so nice, Harry. And I don’t mean it in a positive way. Sometimes your kindness backfires. And this is huge. You went behind my back.”

“Are you done with me? With us?” He practically whispers and it breaks Y/N. It tears her apart and she feels like her heart is in her mouth, wanting to escape and fall in their feet.

Stupid Harry, she thinks. Stupid, stupid.

“I’m serious about this, about us. That’s why I’m this angry and hurt, Harry. I’m so hurt. Do you understand that?” she says, earning a nod from Harry.

“I do. Baby, I do. I promise. I do.”

She doesn’t reply. Instead, another sigh leaves her mouth as their eyes finally found each other.

He looks like he’s contemplating something.

“I can go, give you some space or- or I, I’ll sleep on the-” Y/N cuts him off immediately, understanding where he was going.

“Don’t be silly. No one’s leaving this house anymore tonight. I just- I just want to sleep.” she admits quietly and looks down at her hands.

She felt drained. She felt like her body was too heavy for her to handle right now. She felt hungry and hurt and hungry and hurt, hurt, hurt.

When she next looks at him, her stare is hesitant; shy, almost. She knows it’s not practical. But she says it anyway.

“Will you- I mean, can we- can we lay down for a bit? I feel like someone’s suffocating me and I... can we just lay down?” she asks quietly, almost embarrassed. She knows it’s stupid of her. It’s pathetic.

She feels like a child, running away from her problems. But she knows they’re not going anywhere.

She wants to be selfish, unreasonable right now.

When she next looks at Harry, his eyes look almost glassy. He gulps as he slowly reaches to her, wanting to test the waters.

She doesn’t let him touch her but she stands up and stands in front of the stairs. She can see Harry’s socks at the top of the stairs and it makes everything hurt even more.

She turns back to Harry who was watching her from where he stood by the sofa. After a minute of silent conversation, he makes his way towards her and they slowly go up the stairs.

When they stand in front of their bedroom, she looks at him again.

She sighs as they go insides.

Later, she thinks to herself as she climbs onto their bed, clean sheets making her sigh in satisfaction.

“Come on then,” she whispers as Harry takes off his shirt but leaves his joggers on.

As he lays under the covers, he knows they’re far from okay. He knows it’ll be a while until they’re okay. But he lays there like a statue, not wanting to do anything to make Y/N uncomfortable.

She turns her back to him and hugs the covers.

When she doesn’t make any noise, Harry sighs and turns his head towards her, watching the back of hers. He doesn’t know how long he watches the back of Y/N’s head until a pain shots through his neck.

Later, Harry thinks. They’ll do it later.

[soft-for-them]

you’re going to feel so warm when you meet him ♡ aos montgomery scott x plus size reader ♡ soulmate AU

anon: Hey could I please request a aos Scotty and preferably but not necessarily plus-size reader soulmate au? Thank you so much! Your writing is lovely! ♥️♥️

really like this one, not proof read.

You were always fucking cold and you blame your soulmate.

Everyone has soulmate, a forever friend, what ever you want to call it. 

Soulmates are your other half, your best friends and whilst they aren’t necessarily romantic they can lead to your future significate other.

Soulmates feel the feelings of their other half; some people feel it straight from birth some have ‘the moment’ when they’re older, when they finally connect with their soulmate’s feelings.

For so many years you felt nothing and it had begun to worry you. Well it worried you until you felt their feelings on your first week at the academy.

You remember it like it was yesterday. 

It was a sweltering day and you had felt good enough to roll up your uniform sleeves with out people judging your chubby upper arms. 

Your new friend Jim Kirk, a man who had attached himself on you on the first day, also had his sleeves rolled up.

‘It’s too hot.’ you complained as you pulled at the form fitting red uniform.

‘We’re too hot (y/n), turn a negative into a positive.’

You playfully slapped the taller man on the arm as you both entered the large classroom.

‘Shut up Jim you know the only hot one here is Nyota Uhura.’

For the rest of the class you were taking notes whilst talking to Jim but then you had felt a shiver run up your body.

At first you had though it was the air conditioning blowing on you too much but then you realised that there wasn’t any air conditioning in the classroom.  

‘This sucks, they haven’t fix the aircon yet.’ Jim said whilst fanning himself with one of you notebooks.

Another shiver shook your body, the polar opposite feeling of cold overwhelmed you.

That day the shivering got progressively worse, so bad in fact that you collapsed in class from violent shivers with the beginnings of hypothermia.

And from that day you have been wearing an oversized winter coat so you don’t die from being so cold.

You don’t feel your soulmate for most of your life but then all you can feel is coldness and the occasional hangover, how romantic.

.

.

‘God damn it Jim this is a serious situation.’ you shout to the tired looking man and his good doctor friend, Leonard McCoy.

It’s the aftermath of the Romulan attack and you had been running around in your puffer coat all day, now only realising that you feel warm.

You don’t feel cold any more.

Leonard had checked all you vitals and he has concluded that you’re at normal body temperature, unlike your below zero temperature you normally had.

‘(Y/n) take off that coat, I don’t want you overheating.’ Bones demands.

‘Nope. Never. It’s my comfort blanket.’  you snuggle more into the ripped and sweaty garment which had taken the full force of the Romulan attack.

At first when you had gotten the specially made coat you felt horrid. It made you already big body bigger and you though you looked like colourful marshmallow.

However, you have grown to love the puffy coat with all your heart and you are hesitant to remove it from your person, even if it’s falling off you.

‘What if their dead?’ you ask out loud, it’s the only scenario that is playing in your head but Jim has been telling you that it isn’t true.

‘He’s not dead (y/n)-’ Jim sits down next you for some reassurance. 

‘But I can’t feel them- wait him?’ your plea turns into confusion as you peer up to your dear friend and then to the more confused doctor. 

‘I think I’ve met him (y/n).’ Jim calmly says to you.

You look to and from Jim and Bones watching their reactions. 

Jim looks knackered but happy whilst it takes a moment for Bones to click on about who Jim is talking about.

‘Jim. Leonard.’ you stand anger bubbling up instead of happiness, ‘You better not be fucking with me.’

Tears bubble in your eyes. Too much has happened, you don’t want any false hope for who your soulmate might be, you need to be sure.

Jim nods at Bones who swiftly carries on with his job, leaving you two alone.

‘Jim. What’s going on.’ you are desperate, salty tears are now flowing down your face.

Jim stands up and hugs you. The hug is one of great comfort and friendship, like an older brother's hug.

‘You’re going to feel so warm when you meet him.’ he holds you away from the hug like a proud dad looking at his child, ‘Though you won’t feel it with that thing still on you.’

Jim points at the coat which is over heating you.

‘I’m not taking it off Jim.’ you give him a grumpy look and cross your arms.

‘Can you even take it off?’ You look away from the man which makes him giggle.

‘...No, the zip is stuck...’ you pout, ‘I’m not cutting it off. It’s sentimental to me!’

Your arms uncross, showing the many cuts across the coat. Even though it’s broken the cuts can be easily stitched up and covered up.

Jim takes your dangling arm and drags you with him.

‘Come on, let’s get this thing off you.’

‘But what about my soulmate Jim! Don’t change the subject!’ you arm starts to hurt from the enthusiastic man pulling on it.

The signature James.T Kirk smile pops on his face, he doesn’t respond.

Through much walking and a turbolife ride you both end up in Engineering.

‘Scotty!’ Jim shouts out as you look around at the engines of the ship, ‘need some help here!’

Beads of sweat start to form on you from the warm room, the coat you wear feels like it’s getting smaller around you. 

Maybe it is the best thing to take it off.

‘Aye, Captain. What do you need?’

A man, who you suppose is Scotty, walks out towards you both.

He is a red shirt with receding hair and a sweaty forehead. However, you find him to be quite cute, especially when he sees you and smiles.

‘You got anything to unzip my dear friend from this death trap?’

Jim turns and points at you, you give Scotty a tiny wave.

To Scotty you look too cute but he does wonder what you look like underneath due to the coat covering most of yourself.

‘Ah, we just need a pencil and some patience.’ Scotty hurries away to find a pencil.

‘A pencil!’ You stare daggers at the all too happy man, ‘Jim we didn’t need to come down to engineering to get a pencil!’

Your whisper shouting is interrupted but the resurfaces of Scotty holding a flat pencil in his hand.

‘May I?’ Scotty says coming closer to you. You shyly smile and say a small ‘yes’ before he comes closer.

‘You see you use the pencil on the top of the zip-’ you allow him to closer and begin to use the pencil on the zip, ‘-and it should loosen it-’

A blush has surfaced on your face, though you can easily say it’s from you overheating but the same blush has appeared on Scotty’s face. 

He jiggles the zip which undoes, he steps away so you can unzip the coat fully.

Like it’s the easiest thing in the world the coat comes off like shedding skin. You are automatically cooler as the puffy thing drops to the floor reliving your yellow dress uniform underneath.

You feel naked.

The coat was a comfort that coved up the your curves and the shortness of the uniform dress. Sure, you’re wearing thermal tights and big bulky winter boots but you still start to feel a tad insecure.

‘How you feeling (y/n)?’ Jim shouts from the sidelines with the same big smile on his face.

‘Weird. I feel weird Jim.’

You go to kneel down and retrieve the coat but Scotty beats you to it.

‘Here lass, I’ll get it for you.’

Scotty bends down and grabs the coat, he examines the cut up martial in his hands, he looks up right in your eyes and speaks.

‘Thermal martial, quite expensive for a normal winter coat.’ his is really just thinking out loud but the observation makes you smile.

He hand you over the coat which you hug into your body.

‘Yeah, well good job I didn't have to pay for it.’  Scotty looks confused, ‘It is- it was apart of my uniform. I had a thing before, was always cold.’

Jim looks on at you both babbling about the coat, he decides to intervene for both of you haven’t realised yet.

‘Didn't you wear a similar coat on that ice planet Scotty?’ 

Jim walks closer to you, who is hugging your coat too much to fully comprehend what’s to come.

‘Nah, I still froze half to bloody death.’ 

‘...what...’ your focus sifts to the Scotsman, shock morphs onto your face.

‘Yeah had hypothermia but somehow survived. Don’t know how I did?’

Scotty is oblivious to what has just dawned on you, he carries on talking about his time on the ice planet. However, he is interrupted but the soft thud of the bulky coat dropping on the floor.

Scotty turns to you to see tears escaping your face, his eyes start to water too.

He had been sweating more than usual for most of the day and now he is crying in front of a pretty lass and his Captain, how embarrassing.

‘A-are you sure Jim?’ you barley whisper as you stare at Scotty in front of you, salty tears still poring.

‘As sure as the day follows the night (y/n).’

A sound, that is like a mix between a laugh and a exclamative ‘huh’ escapes your lips along with the biggest smile. Your face, despite having tear stains, is a bright as the sun which is still shining.

Scotty is overcome by your happiness, a deep blush rises up his neck and covers his face.

‘Lass, you ok?’ he scratches the back of his neck in slight embarrassment for his sudden ripe red face.

‘I think we may have to sit down before I tell you this.’

.

.

You groan as you wake up from your slumber, the alarm blaring for you to get up.

Like you’ve done every day you heave the heavy and thick duvet cover off yourself however you are surprised to see the thing on the floor.

‘Whaa-’ you pat around yourself to feel that you have also striped yourself of your thick cotton pyjamas, only leaving yourself in some underwear.

It the dawns on you like deja vu, you feel warm.

‘Yeah, I found him.’ you groggily say as you swing your legs off the bed. You get ready for the rest of your day, with the recurring though of ‘I feel warm.’

To making the bed to putting on uniform, you are hit with the realisation that you don’t need all this thermal stuff for you’re not going to die of the cold.

Even when you slip on the horridly short yellow uniform that does fit well around your curves, you feel slightly more happy to wear it.

Despite that, you still hover at your door when you’re about the leave. Sure it’s stupid to bring along a cut up coat but would it hurt to take a long cardigan for comfort.

You run to your wardrobe and take out a thin and long black cardigan, which hides enough of your ‘bad looking’ areas that the uniform dress has created.

Old habits are hard to kill and you’re happy that they aren’t completely dead.

In your long cardigan and big boots you joyfully walk to the bridge.

The bridge doors swish open and you feel eyes on you.

‘Ah, (y/n) you’re finally here!’ your good friend chimes, the rest of the bridge crew agreeing.

‘You look very nice (y/n).’ Uhura says.

‘I agree, everything you wear is very efficient.’ Spock joins in.

A small and polite ‘thank you’ comes out. You walk over to your seat near Chekov and Sulu, both men say their ‘good mornings’ like the normally do.

You sigh as you lower you gaze to the small screen. However, you feel a hand on your shoulder. 

Looking up you see Scotty, your soulmate, holding a cup in his hand.

‘I though I’d come and check up on you-’ he passes the mug to you, ‘And give you your morning tea/coffee.’

‘You remembered!?!’

‘Aye. We did talk for three hours last night you know.’

You remember the night before when you told the man your realisation of you being his soulmate. For three hours you sat and watched him fix parts of the ship whilst talking.

It was the best three hours of your life.

‘I’ll see you at lunch?’ Scotty questions, hoping that you also remember that you agreed to have lunch with him.

‘Would miss it for the world!’

.

.

.

it took me so long to finish this one but i really like it! i love scotty so much so i didn’t feel like a drag to write it at all.

anyhow, i’m always up for writing more scotty so if you have a star trek request please send it in!

this was edited on the 6th of December, just some little spelling errors changed.

(also finding good star trek gifs is sooooo hard.)

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

The Ending of The Everlasting Sun.

Soukoku angst: will have 2 parts, one is Chuuya pov another is Dazai pov (Dazai is part 1 aka this piece. I'll start chuuya's tomorrow)

I’ll do a version for Dazai after (not pov but version so Chuuya can have the dose of Dazai’s pain T_T).

Warnings: Death, gore, violence, angst with just more angst. (idk if i consider dazai ooc but towards the end is mostly how i feel the situation would happen, so kinda ooc)

TBH, I don't know why I wrote this but hey I love feeding peeps and myself angst so, here you go.

The Ending of The Everlasting Sun. | A Soukoku Angst one-shot |

words: 4264

Dazai’s pov- (it swaps between third and first. I know my writing style is weird af)

The sun, a forever gleaming light in life. They say even in death, the sun won’t fade from your view. For light, something that brings reason to a life so pitched in black is everlasting. There is a place that resides within a person the sun that will never leave. Like the memories that one left behind shall forever hold. Memories will not fade, even as the deceased are placed within mounds of dirt, their body left to neatly decompose.

They say it is natural to feel your heart so heavy. To feel so pained when death washes over. Death can change a human, they say, death is rebirth, something shall always come from it. In some ways, Dazai knew the truth of such words. For he’s experienced the death of his light. At least he had thought the brunette, who’d stuck by his suicidal tendencies, his cruel ways, he thought that man had been the light. He had changed, he’d moved on into the light of this world. His heart may still be shadowed in the darkness the mafia left. The memories of those he left may never leave, but he was in the light. He was the light for another now. Still, dark himself, he’d help lead his news pupil to the light. He repeated this so often, yet why, why did his mind travel back to those days, the days when he was alongside that small ginger boy? The boy with anger issues could be heard a mile away, was he important? Why must he feel as if he left behind something important when he’d listened to a friend's dying wish? Surely he was better off now? He felt better, life wasn’t as black or as unlit as it had once been. So why? Why was it always that ginger that popped into his head on those restless nights? He worried so much if he was okay. If he was out there using that uncontrollable side without him. Ever since he left, he’d worried that ginger would do something as stupid as that. So maybe, just maybe, this world had blessed him with two lights. A light to change, that light had left him to save him. Then the second light, the light that showed him he could love and be loved. This world could take both lights to make such a realization, and eventually, this world, so cruel and dark would. Not by fate, but by the hand of an enemy who sought out Dazai’s weakness.

I stood beneath pelting rain, my mind held within it one thought, where was he? Never had the small boy I'd fallen for in my early teens missed a chance to torment me as I had tormented him. Never had he let the phone, to which we still held each other's numbers unblocked, reach the full number of rings before the voicemail kicked in. I had never felt this before. Nor had I the courage to admit such a thing. For feelings were only a danger to men like myself. I am undoubtedly cruel. Even now, in my early twenties, I stand beneath the rain alone. The mistakes of my past hanging over me for somebody to eventually discover. The past profession I had tried to hide and had hidden well for many years was creeping to my heels. The man whom I'd sought help from was gone, his final words my reason to be in the light. If neither side means anything, he told me to help the defenseless, to help the orphans. That is what I did. I left behind the ginger-haired boy whom, I now say with hesitance, I loved. It is a fine point that I was able to decline such things until after I left the mafia, for otherwise, I may have tried to do good whilst in the mafia, so I could stay with my final light within my life. Many have shed their light on me. The orphan I took in has shocked me many times, reading me in a way I thought only Oda, my extinguished light, could. He knew I was mourning that past friend when he found me at his grave. He continues to shock me to this day, the only one who can occasionally see past the mask I've worn since I was 14, since Mori found me. Kunikida has taught me responsibility and morals. There is still a bottle of things I shall never change. Some people can’t change. My mind prevents me from collecting such information about being human. My ability says it all, does it not? It is a perfect description of myself. The intelligence I share with Dostoevsky is merely one of the many things that keep me behind the wall of change. I may do things for another reason, but I am still a shadow over the people around me. I curse them all, I have brought heavy burdens onto the agency, I harm all of those around me. Love is a feeling I'm incapable of. At least, I can not recognize true love, only conclude that is what this pain is. It is a pain like no other, it is not physical, but no sense of being can push away the tangent throb of every beat. It is my mind, and the way I was brought up so young, that initially warped me beyond repair. That is why I am here, running in the rain despite my coworkers protesting to stop me.

Dazai understood the trap he was headed for, but he knew the trap would result in a fatality either way. If it was his death that waited for him, then he was alright with that. If it was painless, and he died a quick death before his mouth could run to say final bidding words to Chuuya, then he’d die. If this taunt was to break him, if he were to be late, he would drop to his knees and beg his old friend, who lay watching over him, to be forgiven for his actions tonight. If some awful being really did oversee this world, let it give Dazai one moment of peace. Let him have one good light stay until he is gone. He couldn’t do it again, the pain of holding a bloodied body within his arms, it would be hell. He knew not of true mourning, the pain of losing the one, who in a storybook, could be considered a soulmate. He knew it, others knew it, so many people knew the way he stared at Chuuya was not a friendly matter. There was lust within his soft chocolate hues, a hidden cave behind closed doors. Secret thoughts hidden in his mind. The things he wished he could have done before he left, the way he wanted to fix things, to regain what he had lost by leaving the mafia.

With every soft patter, Dazai flew between streets and yards. With every step, he grew closer and closer. With every new step, he felt his heart sink. For the area around was brittle and frail. The ground was crushed and indented. Some buildings lay in tattered pieces. Holes the size of beds lay stretched in the buildings and grass. The worst began to form in his head as his legs picked up into a pace he thought he could never take into. His lungs burned with the inhaled drips of water that turned to flames within his lungs. He pushed past the pain, the burn, the tired flail of limbs. His legs grew numb, but he refused to stop until his arms were flying open doors to a building that looked so horribly damaged.

As if I were the show that night, I could remember the lights. My lungs felt like fire, and my legs were ready to buckle beneath my frail body. I had not eaten a proper meal for weeks, my pockets empty from money spent to cover the scars I had littered my body with. The night is a haze within my mind. An unwilling nightmare I wish to set aside and to never look at again. A night I wish could be rewritten. It was a night that even I had thought the same way as Destoveski. My mind was no longer set right, that side of me to which was feared, had ripped from its confines and torn through to confine me to my own mind. I had truly wanted to tear a sheet from the book spoken about so much in this little town of Yokohama. If it meant my lights could come back and this world could change, then I would, I would do it without a blink. I’d make myself the villain to free my light. I would do it for the right reasons. Yet, I could never ruin the lights of others. There would be too many sacrifices to do such a thing at that moment. To this day, I curse myself for thinking like that man, thinking about such things would make me like him. Dostoevsky was no man I wanted to be.

The light pulsed for a moment before illuminating the room in a sharp glow of white. Dazai stood blinded before the room came into focus, the empty space warm in comparison to the pelting rain. For a moment, the world had paused, allowing his mind to make a sharp halt and think. Though his thoughts were not something he wished to hear. The thoughts inside his head screamed an equal verse to the night he’d lost Oda. He had no more time to pause, as soon as he’d adjusted to the blaring lights, he was scanning the room, finding the spots of blood, the corpses littered on the ground. Then, he was running against his will again. The next thing he knew, he was diving forward too quickly brush against the ginger, who’d consumed his thoughts since they reunited all that time ago.

The first thoughts I had when I felt the cloth of his jacket, the same one I had sown hat-rack into when we were 15, were thoughts of panic. I was always the type of man who wore a mask, but that mask only masked my depression. I yearned for death, I lived to be human, and that feeling you have right as you fall victim to death may be my only chance at life. My co-workers were never worried about me. At first, I had shocked them. I remember the way Kunikida halted with his trust, how on my first job he watched me with a hawk's eye. Never once did I not feel the burning gaze of his judgment. I never blamed him, I was a man with an erased past. There was nothing to tell whether I was good or evil. The day I entered the agency, I would have said I was that darker gray that wisps on the side of black. Today, I would tell you I wanted to be the light, to be good, but I am far from it. It shall always be my nature to look up into another and dive within their soul. My hands are skilled in ways of torture. I could shoot down an enemy with my eyes closed. These pieces of me still exist, even though I had locked them to the confine of my mind, a faraway nightmare that haunted me. The faces of the victims who plead because they had family, haunt me. It’s not remorse I feel, it’s a haunting reminder that I shall never see that friend again. When I die, I shall not meet him in the afterlife, if there is one at all. I like to believe that one can look up and think there is such a place. These thoughts, wishes, all suddenly reappeared the moment his body fell to the floor. Yet, even coated in his own blood, his breathing so unsteady I feared he was only a few breaths from death, he remained beautiful. How could I, a genius strategist with an inhumane IQ, let this happen? Why had I not called him, this ginger, ocean-eyed slug? Chuuya, he’d always be those names to me. I still wonder why we call each other such things, but it makes us both feel alive. With him, I could act like a child, as I never had a true chance to be a child. Even now, if I could muster up the courage as I write, I'd twist the narrative so it looked as if I did not care. If I did that, I would dishonor the words we had shared that night.

Dazai rushed over the pavement to grab hold of Chuuya. His hands sliding over the boy's body to pull him over his lap. His eyes are a sea of worry and panic. One of his hands grabbed the boy’s wrist lightly, his pulse was so slow, his eyes were already slowly dropping, but Dazai stayed confident. “Hey Chibi, you’re an idiot.”

The frail form of the boy beneath him cracked a small smile. “You’re the idiot you- his body racked itself with a spurt of coughs, his lips dripping crimson to join the stains on his perfectly pale skin.- d-damn mackerel.”

Dazai dropped the boy's wrist with a chuckle, pressing his hand to the boy's lips. “Yeah, I know Chibi, I know. - The ginger's eyes began to flutter shut.- No Chibi, your eyes have to stay open. Look, I've got people coming to fix you up. So just try to keep yourself awake.” Dazai’s hand moved to cup the other's cheek. “You’ll be okay.”

Chuuya’s breath staggered a wheeze interrupting the shallow breaths he’d been going through. “I’m dying, aren't I?”

Dazai shook his head, feeling his chest sting with the familiar pain of grief. As if somebody took a microscope over the feeling, it continued to grow. By now, he was sure the pain exceeded the total amount of grief he’d gone through with Oda’s passing. “No Chibi, you’re not… you're not dying.” He paused in that sentence looking down at Chuuya, who laughed dryly.

“So fucking optimistic.” They sat in silence, and Chuuya's eyes fixed on Dazai. Though it was unnoticed by Dazai, his clouded tired eyes were on his lips. He was taking into memory the parts of wishes he’d never get. Every passing second, Chuuya felt his eyes threaten to drip shut. He was trying to listen to Dazai, but his eyes were bricks; sleep a melody that sang to him. With the fear of never waking up again, Chuuya lifted his hand from his side to reach Dazai’s cheek, his blood leaving a mark. “Hey, Dazai.” His voice lacked anything but sincerity.

“No Chuuya. No, you’re okay! Just a few more minutes and Yosano will be here! Fuck, just stop moving, keep your eyes open, keep breathing because you’re alright.” Chuuya had never seen Dazai act like this before. So as Dazai’s hand warmly wrapped around his, his head pressing into the cold touch of Chuuya’s, words were spoken.

“Dazai, I. Never. H-hated… you. I. lov-” before those words could finish, his body was shaking. Tears were forming, he was still conscious and very much alive, but his entire system of organs and cells were rejecting him. The use of corruption had been at its limit long before Dazai had touched him. Before his ability had been canceled out, he was beyond death. The way he coughed his hands, flailing out to grab Dazai’s shirt and press their bodies together, made even Dazai emotional. Dazai managed to still the boy's movements. His eyes half-open as he tried to hold onto whatever string was left. “Lo-” this time he was cut off by Dazai’s hand. His head shaking, hearing Chuuya speak would make this far too real.

He wasn’t ready to let him go. For the first time, he wanted to be far from death, far from the pain and suffering of humankind. So as Chuuya smiled and looked to the ceiling, his hand continued to stroke Dazai’s cheek. A reminder he was still alive.

That moment ended all too quickly when Chuuya took a final staggered breath and looked to Dazai. “Loved you.” He finished his sentence before his eyes dropped shut. His hand slipped into a limp state within Dazai’s hold.

It took the brunette no time to jump to compressions. He continuously screamed. A voice that had never once mourned, or shed a tear, now sat in a contorted expression between agony and doubt. His mind was static, for the first time nothing clear could form within his head. He shrieked out for Chuuya. Open your eyes, he had chanted and begged before he no longer had the strength to continue. He simply fell on top of Chuuya, his ear to his chest praying to hear a soft thud. Three minutes passed before his body, devoid of any, and everything was yanked away. Had he been shown a mirror, one would not have recognized Dazai. His clothes were bloodied, his hair disheveled and wet from the rain he’d run in only a handful of minutes ago.

Dazai sat numbly as his co-workers looked around trying to find if there was any danger left. When the scene was clear and Yosano made the final statement, the world truly crumbled. Still, despite having started CPR and rescue breaths, despite having felt the cooling touch of his skin, Dazai had held onto the hope that Yosano would fix this. He watched as she put on a work face. Her heels clicked across the ground as she walked over to Dazai with a doctor's approach, not a friend's approach. She bent before Dazai and began to speak. “Dazai, I need you to focus your eyes on me, alright?” Dazai could read her mind like an open book. His mind, in his numb state, had returned to his 17-year-old self. Devoid of any real feeling, bent on causing pain and suffering. He tilted his head like that child-self would in this situation. For once, he genuinely felt human. “I understand you were close to Nakahara-san. You were also here at the scene. It’s with much regret-” before she could finish, Dazai’s eyes grew cold and clouded, his lips a snarl as he shoved her.

“He’s okay! Chuuya is okay, he’ll wake up! He always does, even when I have to change things in a second advance because I fucked up. He's okay! We’re soukoku, double black. We can’t be put down. We’re partners, we need each other." even Yosano froze at the sudden outburst. The way Dazai cried without realizing the tears were falling. The way he tried to look happy as if he hadn’t watched Chuuya die within his arms. “Right… he’s okay right?” Dazai hardly knew what he was saying, his head foggy, his mind trying to stay collected.

If one could compare him to anything, one would say that moment he'd looked like a child, no older than fourteen, who’d watched a death before their eyes. Yosano collected herself before shaking her head. She decided to take the approach she’d have with a child instead of an adult. For in this moment, Dazai was experiencing what one could call his first-ever truly emotional loss. This was the first time his mind was catching up with him. “Dazai, Chuuya cared very much for you. You know that right?”

Dazai seemed to calm slightly at the thought as he focused on Yosano. “Yeah, he loved me… he said he loved me.” Suddenly, the situation became worse than she’d thought.

“Mhm, and you loved him too?” Dazai took his time to slowly nod before gulping and shrinking down.

“And now… he’s not coming home. No more loud, annoying comments. No more nights at the bar…” Dazai’s voice choked before the sounds of more footsteps followed in.

A high-pitched female voice screamed in a shrieking roar. “Where is he!” Dazai knew that voice. Kouyo, his Ane-san. At least, at one point she’d been his Ane-san. But his eyes stopped looking at Yosano and instead took a glimpse at Chuuya, whose corpse still lay there.

Once more, Dazai’s emotions took control, and he placed his hands over his eyes and shut himself away. Yosano swore under her breath and stood up. “Which one is he?” Yosano stood up rather angrily. She disliked her conversations being so rudely interrupted, even if it were somebody she had a small connection with.

“Chuuya…” the red-haired female stormed over before spotting Dazai first. His body cradled in like a child. A position she’d never seen him in. Her heart could only lurch to the worst. Hesitantly, she looked off to the side and saw it. The bloodied corpse. She spent no more time looking, she couldn’t.

She shoved Yosano away from Dazai, a boy she had once helped to look after and almost raise. Though she resented the boy for abandoning his role as an executive, she knew how much the pair had been connected. So she’d be a mother or older sister for a bit. Something Dazai had never seemed to have. “Dazai, it’s Kouyo, can you look at me? I just wanna make sure you’re alright.”

Dazai peeked from his arms, sniffing in his delirious state as he lunged towards her. Not in a hostile way, but an embrace. Something he never thought he’d need. He felt so human, so alive, but at the same time, he felt so dead inside. He felt as if his life had been torn and replaced within seconds. This feeling he couldn’t place a name on. “I was too late… I couldn’t, and now he’s and I… it’s all my-'' Kouyo was quick to shut him down, muffling her own sobs as she rocked Dazai in her arms.

“Hush child, these things happen. The fault is never that you could not make it in time. The fault lies within the bastard who did this. He always took extremes to protect you, Dazai. So hush now, let yourself grieve.” There was a slight pause as the agency starred in shock. This woman, who most of them knew as a vengeful woman with no remorse, sat cradling a grown man from an opposing organization as if he were her child, no more like an older sister cradling a younger brother. “Dazai, I won’t criticize your reaction, I've seen it many times in the mafia. Little children who witness death at such a young age think they are immune to it. They find another blame or they say they are monsters. You were 14 when Mori took you in. You never had somebody to teach you to grieve. You never needed to, not until now. So listen to me child, you’re going to let it all out, the years of pain and suffering, the years of grief for lost friends, even I have cried in my life. Nobody is immune to pain, some of us just think we are.” As Kouyo spoke, she noted Dazai’s breathing reached a slowing point. He was fast asleep before she finished her words. Her touch was gentle as she brushed a lock of his hair behind his ears.

Next, she walked over to Chuuya and hung her head, murmuring words of mourning. She walked off quickly, but came back moments later with his hat. “He’d want somebody to have it.” Yosano stood beside Kouyo, who choked back her own tears.

“I think it should go to Dazai. He always mocked his hats, even though he loved seeing Chuuya in them. They really were meant for each other. It’s unfortunate such a great pair ended up… in a life like this. Perhaps they will be reborn in an era where they are nothing but students who fall in love. I like to think there is always a second chance for lives that end too short.”

With a nod, they both looked to Dazai, who looked at peace sleeping on the ground.

~

When I woke up that day after, I could hardly remember anything. I had lost myself completely to the side that was human. I truly did try to live on, but it was difficult. No matter where I looked, I could see his laugh, I hated it. The pain that constantly wrapped around me. Hence, why I sit here with a pen. I never took myself to write my thoughts down. Oda had once ruminated about being a reader, he died before he ever could. I miss them both. I say that, but when I look down at the tear-stained paper, so many of them were for Chuuya. A love I never got to kiss or truly love. Today, I will not wake up. I no longer care about things like making my death overly complex and comfortable. I shall go to sleep with Chuuya’s hat at my side. I shall die with him at my side. That is how it should have been. Chuuya should have lived that night. I shall never know what sparked him to use corruption without me there. All I know is the worst person in the world, Destovesky, who now lay in a ditch from my own pistol, threatened the ginger to such an extent he felt the need to use it. In a way, I have solved several problems with one action. I killed the criminal, and I'm killing the single person whose blood runs more mafia black than any other.

Tag list If you want to be added when I upload fics/HC etc., just shoot me an ask: @jadegreenimmortality

[pen-observing]

Yellow feelings

You hold pure feelings for an unpure being. Then again, so does Lucifer.

Warnings: none

Masterlist

Walking through the garden you tried to remember a truth universally acknowledged. In nature, and in solitude, lies the place where humans have to be honest with themselves. Where humans have to admit to their emotions. What nature was more beautiful than the unique hybrid flowers decorating the paths of the House of Lamentation? What nature so odd to a human vessel? Among these paths is where the fragility of humanity turns into undeniable honesty. Why? You realize how small you are whilst your feelings overwhelm your body and soul. You realize that truth sets free in all cases.  

When you strayed off the path and walked the streets alone, in moments Mammon had a photoshoot so he could not tag along, you could lie to yourself. You could lie in the halls of RAD. You could stay quiet in front of Diavolo. In a way; you would, in an impulsive moment, even lie to the most powerful being of that strange world. But, my dear, you cannot lie to yourself.

What is the difference between love uttered and love unspoken? The simple secret, once complexities are out of the way, is how it influences people. The massive love which marks growth everyday inside your hearth is unspoken. It is secret. Unlike those that utter the feelings to regain control, you try to swim inside the flutters and crashes of waves that a single glace may bring. You try to fight, you try to silently give in but the end result it always the same. Unspoken love towards him drowns you. It does not even give you a glimmer of a glowing chance to fight back.

You have contemplated long and hard about what having these feelings towards Lucifer really meant. You have questioned and wandered into depths of your mind in trying to find answers. Denial was the strongest weapon at first.  

Maybe you watching the way his glowed hand held the tea cup just meant you wanted to find more grace? Perhaps knowing how his hair decorated his features just meant admiring the beauty of a creature who once was an angel? Perhaps knowing which eye of his would twitch first from another crazy idea the prince had was just you, well, finding fun in such circumstances?

Oh, how denial came naturally to you. Oh, how denial dispersed once your feet stood on the stone grounds to look at the flowers.

What you held for Lucifer; shielded in such a small body, guarded with such helpless hands and nurtured with unnoticed care was not, - could not - be anything short of love.

These hybrid flowers were witnesses to your promise. These cold stones showed you the path towards fulfilling it. You swore to tell Lucifer the truth.  

Countlessly drowning in waves of secret love would hurt immensely.

Knowing yourself meant taking determined steps towards his study with wavering confidence. If you did not confess now, your own cowardice would eat away any other chance. Why was it that in this moment, in this brief time, you felt so brave? Fate, my dear.

Your feet carried you in front of his door. The door that was almost always slightly ajar, just in case some brother was sneaking out front trying to play another petty trick towards the man that undeniably felt fond of them. His door seemed to loom over you like never before. It seemed to carry a warning. The anxiety of finally uttering feelings, as you did not plan a confession yet, kept growing. However, your impulsive bravery overcame it and stepped a bit closer.  

“Pass me my favorite pen, please?”, Lucifer’s voice stopped your hand. Your breathing. All at once. It cut through the air.

Who was the other person in Lucifer’s sacred room? Who was he speaking to in such a voice? Surely, it made you stop but this; this voice plainly displayed exhaustion. Lucifer usually masked worries and held up a proud persona. He had invisible walls to represent himself in such a light that would intimidate everyone. And, hold up- Lucifer has a favourite pen? How come you did not know this despite all the habits your love swayed you to see?

Whoever the other person was in the room with him did not reply. Why? Why was there no reply? If you are breaking the moral codes of privacy just by staying rooted in curiosity they might as well offer something. Anything. Who was the person Lucifer let his guard down for?

Your vision could only take in a bit of what was happening. With quiet breathing and an even quieter step forward; you ducked to see into the room more.

“Oh.”

It is odd how sometimes a heart carrying so much love can break; logical realizations along with atmosphere impressions do not ask you whether the emotions were spoken yet. People always claim that expressions of great partnership and infatuation are carried out with grand displays of affection. Grand displays can feel special regardless of what the person means to you sometimes. You always looked at the little things; the things that stand as invisible strings of love between two people. And, what you saw was enough.  

You looked at the sight smiling softly. The need to ardently confess to Lucifer was vanished. It was replaced by understanding and a soft heartbreak. Unspoken love deserves this kind of heartbreak, this kind of ending, my dear.

What do you think hurts more? Rejection after a confession or not a chance to confess at all? I claim it is never having confessed while wishing the object of your affection all the best in this world.

How dare you walk away from the study door faster than you came? How dare you not notice the garden flowers expressing a sad ode to your feelings? How dare you curse the stone path which lead you there? It is paradoxical really. How could you smile when you saw Diavolo’s hand gracefully extend a pen towards Lucifer? How could you smile at Lucifer’s loose tie while Diavolo gazed at him like he was still an angel? It was true intimacy. True intimacy was in that space, between Lucifer and Diavolo; in small moments of everyday life that signified something so grand. It signified a true mark of love.

So, how could you smile and wish their love all the best yet still shed tears and run away from that sight? Run away from that space? Where were you running with such clouded eyes? How did you manage to stay so quiet?

You did not know. All you knew was that a path seemed to open up. It led somewhere you never explored before. Was it always here? Running from something is easier than not knowing where you are running. Something tugged your soul towards that field. Something your clouded eyes could not recognize.  

Perhaps it was the magic of humanity?

Was it even necessary to name the force that lead you to a small field which seemed to stand alone in that strange world? No. That field called upon you to answer. The steps carrying you there reached their destination. You stopped in the middle and looked around.

Daffodils. This place was overflowing with daffodils.   Golden stars amongst the green grass welcomed you as one of their own.  

This was the first time that the Devildom was kind enough to show flowers from the human world. It awakened something within you. A spark.  

“I wandered lonely as a cloud...”

Those words just came out of your mouth as if asking to harmonize with the surrounding scenery.

Yellow flowers. What does that love mean now? Blue feelings. Where is that love supposed to go?  

Thinking back...when did romantic love lead you up until now?

You dropped down on your knees, completely quiet as one tear drop slid down your right cheek. Yellow feelings. 

While gazing at the daffodils in front; you brought your hands up, palms pressed together.  In this strange world you found a place to be a broken human again. The gaze shifted towards the sky.

“Please, God, do not let my love be in vain forever.”

Here you were. Praying in a field of yellow under the eternally dark sky. Hoping that your next love, uttered or unspoken, would not waste away.

What is this? Okay basically, I wandered lonely as a cloud is a name of a poem which starts that same way. I had to learn it for one of my classes. It is by Wordsworth and you can read it if you wish to understand more. It is about him being lonely and wandering around until daffodils /which, signify unrequited love by the way) charm him. It is my way of saying unrequited love is not the end, while it is very common. No, I do not ship Dialuci but Diavolo was the first one that came to my mind!

[bixbythemartian]

you know, I never can tell when I’m going to release a story and it’s going to do numbers, especially one with a readmore, but the daycare one is doing some numbers

not exactly what I expected publishing a story at like 9 pm on a Tuesday

before I get on with this long ramble, I want to thank everybody who took the time to make a comment on this when they reblogged it, or replied to it. there’s enough that I can’t reasonably respond to them all, but they’ve been universally lovely. for those who this particularly resonated with because you work with young kids: I was thinking of people just like you, and I’m glad this story found you.

I wanted to talk about my writing process on this one, because it was actually kind of interesting. if you’re not interested, just scroll on baby, I’m rambling to myself as much as anything.

this story is like many of the other prompts I’ve written, finished and unfinished- I picked it because I knew how the next bit went. the ones I finish are because I know how the next bit goes until I have said what I wanted to say, which is mostly because I figured out what I wanted to say by the time I’ve said it.

the thing about this one in particular is I wrote it all the way through with a much more traditional narrative style, and then the ending just wasn’t working so I deleted most of it. I’ve heavily edited a lot of them, but I haven’t completely rewritten them in a more experimental (for me) style.

I kept getting bogged down in the details, the transitions between the things I wanted to say and the things I had to say to get to the things I wanted to say, and I was worried that to tell it properly it was going to have to be much longer. so I started over with the bit I was certain came next, those first couple lines.

I wanted to keep the immediacy of the first person present tense that it started with, and tried to think of how she would say that first line ‘my mom has been texting me...’

I realized her voice was low, she was almost murmuring. why is she talking so low?

she has a voice recorder. she’s talking into a voice recorder. she’s in a closet or a bathroom, away from the kids so they don’t hear her.

why does she have one of those? 

she uses it to manage forgetfulness, so she has a habit of talking to it when stuff happens she wants to remember later, and over time it’s turned into more of a journal kind of thing.

once I had that, then I had the framing. I didn’t need to write transitions, I could boil the story down to strictly character moments.

what’s that thing about ‘to make an apple pie, you first have to invent the universe’? I think it’s a science related quote, actually, but I’m really feeling it at the moment.

my biggest struggle once I found the framing was how much to describe her voice and crying and such, and I ended up deciding to leave it more vague.

that made more sense for a transcript style, to me, and also left room for your interpretation of her voice, but I was worried leaving it too vague would mean the emotions would not be conveyed as strongly. there’s always a trade off between authorial intention and leaving room for reader interpretation. too much stage direction can ruin things, so can being too vague.

by the reactions I’ve gotten, I hit a sweet spot, but that was the part I was the most worried about.

I cried almost the whole time I wrote the second version, btw. And, to be clear, at this point I’d written the whole story. the substance barely changed between drafts. I already knew the day was saved. I had shed some tears writing the previous version, as well, so if you shed some tears whilst reading it, let it be known that I was fucking waterworks writing it.

here’s some quick fun facts

just thinking about the part where she worries about making sure they don’t eat too much pizza and candy so they’re not sick or hurting when the end comes is still fucking me up

so is the part where she’s reflecting on them having a good day, feeling inadequate, completely unaware of what an amazing thing she has done

the guy who brought the pizza had stolen that car and was joyriding, and encountering Addie changed his life forever, and I may tell that story, too, at some point, if I figure out how the next bit goes

the second draft I actually composed every line vocally and typed as I spoke, the dashes are where *my* voice cracked and I stopped speaking. I’ve never written quite this way before, it was interesting, might try it again.

I deliver pizza until like 2 or 3 am so it’s normal and reasonable for me to still be up at 5 ish am my time, if you are doing the math and are concerned.

I’m mulling over doing an audio version of this post. I kind of want to, but I don’t want to fuck it up. 

[scotianostra]

On August 18th 1746 Arthur Elphinstone, Lord Balmerino and William Boyd, 4th Earl of Kilmarnock the Jacobite nobles, were executed.

The two were found guilty of treason and sentenced to death; this was commuted to beheading, rather than the usual sentence of Hung,drawn and quartered, which had already been carried out on some Jacobites, most notably the English Jacobite Francis Towneley on 30th July that year, with eight of his comrades from the Manchester Regiment.

Before I start on this post proper I have to say we should remember that whilst the high profile executions may make the “headlines” in my posts, we should remember the ordinary soldiers that also died, both during the uprising and afterwards. Also the provisions that followed stripping the country of their way of life.

Magnus Magnusson recounts in Scotland The Story of Nation: “Of the total of 3471 Jacobite prisoners, 120 were executed: most by hanging, drawing and quartering, four by beheading because they were peers of the realm -- the privilege of rank. Of the remainder, more than six hundred died in prison; 936 were transported to the West Indies to be sold as slaves [which, at that time, meant that they would almost certainly be dead of yellow fever or the like within two years], 121 were banished ‘outside our Dominions’; and 1287 were released or exchanged” 

Of those released my guess is that a large number of these would have been co-opted into the British army.  Highlanders were among the world’s best natural soldiers and if given discipline, training and leadership would make a formidable force. Which indeed was proved true. 

Numerous clan chiefs were attainted, having their titles and lands stripped of them. More importantly the Heritable Jurisdictions Act of 1746 removed all judicial powers from the chiefs, smashing the very structure of Highland society as sheriffdoms reverted to the Crown.  The Act of Proscription of 1746 banned anyone north of the Highland line from the carrying of arms and the Dress Act section banned anyone in Scotland from wearing Highland dress, especially the kilt, on pain of six months in jail – transportation was the punishment for a second offence. Also banned by extensions of the Act were the bagpipes and the speaking of Gaelic in public. In a few short years, that Act had great effect, and the repression of the Gael was almost total. Many Highlanders opted to emigrate to America and Canada in a bid to preserve their way of life that was now under assault on all sides – lowland Scottish people, it has to be said, largely backed the brutal repression of their fellow Scots.

On to the day of the executions, much of this is first hand accounts from the history books.

Everyone who was anyone wanted to be at the execution, among the spectators was the English army officer and naturalist George Montagu, it is his description that I have pinched for an eye witness account of the gruesome events that day in 1746. Montagu was allowed close access to the prisoners from before their trial until they met their end.

“Just before they came out of the Tower, Lord Balmerino drank a bumper to King James’s health. As the clock struck ten they came forth on foot, Lord Kilmarnock all in black, his hair unpowdered in a bag, supported by Forster, the great Presbyterian, and by Mr. Home, a young clergyman, his friend. Lord Balmerino followed, alone, in a blue coat turned up with red, his rebellious regimentals, a flannel waistcoat, and his shroud beneath; their hearses following.

They were conducted to a house near the scaffold; the room forwards had benches for spectators; in the second Lord Kilmarnock was put, and in the third backwards Lord Balmerino; all three chambers hung with black. Here they parted! Balmerino embraced the other, and said,

“My lord, I wish I could suffer for both!” He had scarce left him, before he desired again to see him, and then asked him, “My Lord Kilmarnock, do you know any thing of the resolution taken in our army, the day before the battle of Culloden, to put the English prisoners to death?”

He replied, “My lord, I was not present; but since I came hither, I have had all the reason in the world to believe that there was such order taken; and I hear the Duke has the pocketbook with the order.”

Balmerino answered, “It was a lie raised to excuse their barbarity to us.” –Take notice, that the Duke’s charging this on Lord Kilmarnock (certainly on misinformation) decided this unhappy man’s fate! The most now pretended is, that it would have come to Lord Kilmarnock’s turn to have given the word for the slaughter, as lieutenant-general, with the patent for which he was immediately drawn into the rebellion, after having been staggered by his wife, her mother, his own poverty, and the defeat of Cope.

I’ll interject here this conversation pertained to the lie that the Jacobite commanders issued an order that “no quarter” was to be give ‘no quarter’ meant that no prisoners would be taken. Any men on the battlefield would have no mercy shown to them and surrender would not be accepted.”

On the eve of the Battle of Culloden the Duke of Cumberland was determined to end the Jacobite Rising and prevent the Jacobites from ever being capable of challenging the throne again. After losing to the Jacobites at every turn, up to this point, he would not let them win again. To motivate his men he informed them that Lord George Murray had ordered ‘no quarter’ to be given to the Government men on the field. This meant the men would be shown no mercy by the Jacobites . However, this claim was not true. No such order had been given. From copies of Lord Murray’s orders there was no mention of ‘no quarter’ anywhere. But, in Cumberland’s papers there was a copy in which the words ‘and to give no quarters to the electors troops on any account whatsoever’ had been inserted. Whilst Cumberland may not have been responsible for doctoring the order he certainly did not shy away from the words written and retaliated in kind.

After the battle Cumberland ordered his men to search out any surviving rebels who were to be treated as traitors, outside the conventions of international combat. Those with the French Royal Ecossais or the Irish Piquet’s would be regarded as prisoners of war but everyone else was to be considered traitors. Whilst some men in the government army refused to kill, and tried to turn a blind eye, there were some who committed terrible acts. As well as wounded soldiers, civilians, women and children were all killed in the horrible aftermath of Culloden.

Back to Montagu’s account…..

“He (Kilmarnock) remained an hour and a half in the house, and shed tears. At last he came to the scaffold, certainly much terrified, but with a resolution that prevented his behaving in the least meanly or unlike a gentleman. He took no notice of the crowd, only to desire that the baize might be lifted up from the rails, that the mob might see the spectacle.

He stood and prayed some time with Forster, who wept over him, exhorted and encouraged him. He delivered a long speech to the Sheriff, and with a noble manliness stuck to the recantation he had made at his trial; declaring he wished that all who embarked in the same cause might meet the same fate.

He then took off his bag, coat and waistcoat with great composure, and after some trouble put on a napkin-cap, and then several times tried the block; the executioner, who was in white with a white apron, out of tenderness concealing the axe behind himself. At last the Earl knelt down, with a visible unwillingness to depart, and after five minutes dropped his handkerchief, the signal, and his head was cut off at once, only hanging by a bit of skin, and was received in a scarlet cloth by four of the undertaker’s men kneeling, who wrapped it up and put it into the coffin with the body; orders having been given not to expose the heads, as used to be the custom.

The scaffold was immediately new-strewed with saw-dust, the block new-covered, the executioner new-dressed, and a new axe brought. Then came old Balmerino, treading with the air of a general. As soon as he mounted the scaffold, he read the inscription on his coffin, as he did again afterwards: he then surveyed the spectators, who were in amazing numbers, even upon masts of ships in the river; and pulling out his spectacles, read a treasonable speech, which he delivered to the Sheriff, and said, the young Pretender was so sweet a Prince that flesh and blood could not resist following him; and lying down to try the block, he said, “If I had a thousand lives, I would lay them all down here in the same cause.”

He said, if he had not taken the sacrament the day before, he would have knocked down Williamson, the lieutenant of the Tower, for his ill usage of him. He took the axe and felt it, and asked the headsman how many blows he had given Lord Kilmarnock; and gave him three guineas. Two clergymen, who attended him, coming up, he said, “No, gentlemen, I believe you have already done me all the service you can.” Then he went to the corner of the scaffold, and called very loud for the warder, to give him his periwig, which he took off, and put on a nightcap of Scotch plaid, and then pulled off his coat and waistcoat and lay down; but being told he was on the wrong side, vaulted round, and immediately gave the sign by tossing up his arm, as if he were giving the signal for battle. He received three blows, but the first certainly took away all sensation. He was not a quarter of an hour on the scaffold; Lord Kilmarnock above half a one. Balmerino certainly died with the intrepidity of a hero, but with the insensibility of one too.”

Pics show the Lords, the second is a satirical drawing of  Lord Balmerino, next is a depiction of the crowd and scaffold on the day. Finally is a plaque at Trinity Square Gardens, Tower Hamlets, London where the executions took place. 

[isitgintimeyet]

Just A Friend

Previous

AO3

Another Sunday, another chapter. Hope it’s a good weekend for you all, despite these uncertain times. I always intended this story to be a bit of fluffy light relief from the real world. Thanks for all the support for it.

There will probably be another 3 chapters after this, depending on how the characters behave. I cant seem to make them do what I want sometimes!

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta

Chapter 11: From Marriage to Mackenzie

It’s 1pm and I’m in a hotel room, still in a bathrobe, sipping Buck’s Fizz whilst a hairdresser wrestles with my wayward curls, finally managing to corral them into some sort of recognisable hair style.

Geillis is sitting on the edge of the bed incongruously dressed in tiara and bathrobe, her hair arranged in an elaborate updo. I catch her eye through the dressing table mirror and smile before my vision is obscured by a miasma of hairspray.

A few final tweaks of my curls and it’s done. I am just amazed that my hair can be cajoled into such glossy, bouncy curls, held behind one ear by an ornately decorated comb. With suitable compliments and thanks, Geillis and I bid goodbye to the hairdresser.

The bride stands up and adjusts the belt of her robe. She seems the epitome of calm.

“Are you not nervous, Geillis? You’ll be walking down the aisle in about an hour’s time.”

“Weel, I am a wee bit worried about a couple of things,” she admits. “I dinna ken how ma cousin Janie will behave. She may try tae proposition every man under the age of seventy five. And as fer Dougal’s Uncle Eric—he has been known tae get steamin’ drunk and puke in the rose beds. But about the marrying? Nah, I dinna have any nerves about that. I want tae spend ma life wi’ Dougal and that’s what today is all about. I have nae worries about making that commitment. He’s the one fer me. When ye ken, ye ken. Trust me, Claire.”

The pocket of her bathrobe begins to buzz. She quickly pulls out her phone and reads the message.

“I’d best go. That was Mam, fretting about something or other. Are ye ok getting dressed on yer own?”

“I’ve managed for the past twenty nine years or so. I dare say I can manage another day.” I sigh theatrically.

“I ken. Ye can manage on yer own. Ye always do. But thanks fer being here with me today. It means a lot tae have the people who mean the most tae me around,” she leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “But remember what I said, Claire, when ye ken, ye ken. Dinna ignore it.”

Pausing at the interconnecting doorway, she does a quick body shimmy and grins. “Woo hoo! I’m getting married. Canna believe it’s here now,”

From the adjoining room, I can hear a shouted response. “Geillis Duncan, ye get here now. Yer mam reckons that makeup lassie has done her eyeliner wonky. It looks fine tae me. Can ye come and talk some sense in tae the daft cow?”

“Alright, Da, I’m coming.” Geillis yells back before leaving to deal with her parents.

I sit down and study my bridesmaid’s dress, now hanging on the wardrobe door. I’m getting excited about the day ahead. Probably not as much as Geillis, obviously, but a host of butterflies appears to have taken residence in the pit of my stomach.

I’m truly thrilled for Geillis to be marrying Dougal—they love each other so much. But, also, it’s scary to me. She is willing, eager even, to commit to one person, to base her future life, her future happiness on one man. If they should ever leave…well, I’m not sure I’d be able to cope with that. If you love too hard, you can hurt too much. Trust me on that, I know. People leave you. Don’t give your heart to anyone, keep it hidden away, protected…intact.

The ping from my phone diverts me from this somber train of thought.

I’m downstairs at the hotel. Can you come and say hello?

I quickly type:

Come up to the 2nd floor. I’ll meet you by the lift.

Making sure the keycard is in my pocket, I slip my feet into the hotel’s complimentary slippers and shuffle out to meet Jamie.

I’m already waiting as the lift door opens and he emerges. My first thought is oh wow, as is my second...and third. He has made an effort for this wedding, and it’s certainly paid off. Eschewing the more formal Prince Charlie style, he’s wearing a charcoal grey jacket and waistcoat, perfectly matching the grey in his kilt. A crisp white shirt and burgundy tie complement the secondary colours in the tartan. His sporran is black leather, heavily etched or embossed. I can’t quite make out the detail. Then I feel myself blush as I realise I have been clearly staring at his...er, lower body. I look up quickly.

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to have noticed. He looks me up and down and smiles. “Nice outfit,” he comments drily. “Is the bride wearing white towelling too? What’s the theme? Salon chic?”And is that part of the design?” He points to an orange stain on the front of my robe. I pull a face and tie the belt tighter, trying to tuck the offending piece of material out of sight.

“Must have spilled a drop of my Buck’s Fizz.”

“Drinking already? Dinna be staggering down the aisle.”

He reaches out towards my hair and pauses for a second before making a random circular motion with his hand. “And this…I like yer hair. It’s verra…verra…” he searches for the word. “... asymmetric.”

“Thank you,” I hold the ‘skirt’ of my robe and bob a little curtsy. “That’s totally what we were going for—asymmetric.”

He laughs. “Nah, seriously. Yer hair and yer makeup look grand. I’m sure ye’ll look lovely in yer dress.”

I gesture to my room. “I’d best finish getting ready.”

“Aye, I’ll see ye downstairs.” He presses the button for the lift.

“By the way, you look grand too.” I try to say it in an understated way. It’s true, but I don’t want him to read anything into the statement.

The lift arrives and he steps inside. As the doors close, he fires a parting shot. “Especially the sporran, eh?”

*********

Now in my bridesmaid’s dress, I practice a couple of pirouettes in front of the mirror before hearing a quick knock on the door to the adjoining room.

“Ye ready, Claire? Mam’s jes’ gone down. Only us three left.”

I walk through to the other room to be met by a riot of open suitcases, bags and boxes. A variety of towels, dressing gowns and footwear seem to be carpeting the floor.

“‘S ok,” Geillis’ voice comes from behind me. “It’s no’ ma problem. I’m no’ sleeping here tonight. I’ll be in the bridal suite. This’ll be Mam and Dad’s room.”

I turn to see my best friend now fully dressed and ready. Her father is hovering next to her, clad in kilt and full formal regalia. I always knew she would win that battle.

As beautiful as she looks, the thing that really strikes me is the way her father is watching her, with such love and pride. She returns his gaze and brings her forehead to rest against his cheek.

I swallow hard, fighting the desire to shed a tear. It’s such a precious image, so intimate, but also, I realise that, since Lamb died, I have nobody, no father figure, to share something like this. I feel a momentary pang of, not jealousy, but a feeling of regret over an emotion that I will never get to experience.

And then, just like that, the moment passes.

It always does.

Geillis passes me a creamy white posy tied with a simple ribbon and gathers up her bouquet of peonies, roses and fragrant eucalyptus.

“OK,” she takes a deep breath and breaks into a huge grin. “I think I’m late enough tae get Dougal jes’ a wee bit nervous. Time tae roll.”

*******

The hotel’s orangery provides a perfect setting for the wedding ceremony. Softly diffused sunlight filters through the white muslin drapes at the large windows. A slight breeze wafts the fabric gently, giving tantalising glimpses of the formal gardens outside.

At the end of the room, Dougal and Angus stand beside a large arch of succulent green foliage, staring straight ahead as Geillis and her father begin the procession down the aisle with me following.

Even before he turns to look, I can spot Jamie — his auburn curls are head and shoulders above those around him. He stays still at first, but as we draw near he turns around and grins before doing his funny blink, screwing up his face and closing both eyes, which I have learnt, is Jamie’s attempt at a wink. I return his smile before focussing on the arch getting ever closer.

Dougal appears rooted to the spot, but Angus turns around and watches for a moment before giving me a perfectly executed wink. I smile politely even as I shudder inwardly. The sheer self confidence of that man is beyond belief. Then he disappears from my thoughts as Geillis reaches the arch and passes me her bouquet to hold. The joy on her and Dougal’s faces as they prepare to make their vows is wonderful and I’m so happy to be a part of it all.

***************

They say the sun shines on the righteous. Well, Geillis and Dougal must be exceptionally good, as it’s a perfect summer afternoon. It’s beautifully warm, but not too hot, as all the guests mingle in the gardens, admiring the beautiful surroundings whilst drinking chilled champagne.

The photographer has finished with the formal photographs, so I’m allowed to relax and enjoy a glass or two. I can still spot him wandering around, ready to take more natural, candid shots of the proceedings but nobody seems to mind.

I was initially worried about inviting Jamie to the wedding for a couple of reasons. The first was my friends. Of course, my friends are great, but Anna and Mary can sometimes have an issue with boundaries and I had visions of the ‘conversations’ they might try to have with Jamie — ‘nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition’ unless Anna and Mary are around.

The second reason was that Jamie would literally know only one person at this wedding —me. And that, when I was off doing official ‘wedding stuff’, he would be on his own, billy-no-mates. But, as I look around, I realise I had absolutely nothing to worry about on that score. He has the knack, it seems, to get on with everyone.

At the moment he’s talking to Geillis’s father, laughing and joking like they’re old friends. He notices me looking at him, lifts his empty glass up and points to me. I hold my glass up and nod. He excuses himself and strolls towards the bar.

There’s a slight touch on my elbow. “Hello, dear.”

I draw my attention to the old lady standing next to me—Geillis’ great aunt Frances. I’ve met her on a couple of occasions before and have always enjoyed her company. She’s a straight talker and makes no bones about it. “When ye get tae my age,” I remember her commenting to me “ye dinna have time tae beat about the bush, ye need tae say what ye think.” I like that in a person.

“Hello, how nice to see you.”

“Ye too,dear. I must say ye’re looking awfa bonnie in that dress. It’s a fine colour on ye.”

“Thank you. And you’re looking lovely yourself.”

Frances makes a self deprecating ‘hmph’ sound, dismissing my compliment with a wave of her hand. “Away wi’ ye. Ye do yer best wi’ what ye’ve still got. Which isna much in ma case.”

I shake my head. “Not at—“

But she decides to change the subject and moves on with her next question. “Is that yer young man over there?” She points at Jamie, heading towards us with two glasses of champagne. “He’s a handsome chap, is he no’? Mind ye, that’s no more than ye deserve. Sae, mebbe ye’ll be next?”

“No, we—“

I have no chance to say anything more, before Jamie is by my side and handing me one of the glasses. I take a sip as he notices that Frances has no drink and, without hesitation, he passes the second glass to her.

“Aren’t ye kind… er?” She accepts gratefully.

“Jamie.”

“Weel, Jamie, let me tell ye. It’s been a long while since a good looking young man has brought me a drink. I should make the most of it. Anyway, I was jes’ saying tae our Claire here, how bonnie she looks today. Does she no’?”

She fixes her gaze on Jamie, demanding an answer.

“Aye, she looks lovely.” His eyes meet mine for a second, before I look away and try to change the subject.

“Don’t you think Geillis looks beautiful, Frances?”

But, it seems that Frances has one line of conversation that she is keen to pursue. “Oh aye, she does. But, Jamie, I was jes’ saying tae Claire that mebbe she’ll be next. What d’ye think?”

Fortunately, I’m spared any response as a gong sounds and the maître d’ announces that dinner is served and that everyone should make their way inside to the dining room.

****************

Having narrowly avoided any embarrassment, I am somewhat apprehensive to see Frances at our table. Fortunately, Geillis’ cousin and baby are enough to divert her attention away from any matrimonial prospects that may or may not be on my horizon.

With Jamie sitting by my side, I catch him up on all the behind the scenes activity of my day and we fall into our pattern of easy conversation and gentle banter. From time to time, I can see Frances, opposite, watching us with a look of approval on her face, but she says nothing.

Once the speeches and toasts are over, there’s a palpable change in the guests. Jackets are draped over chair backs, sleeves rolled up and waistcoat buttons undone. I can spot more than one woman moving awkwardly in her chair, struggling to locate the shoes that were eased off out of sight under the table. Cheeks become flushed with an abundance of rich food and tongues become looser with a surfeit of fine wine.

I sip my whisky, savouring its peaty smokiness. Jamie is in a serious rugby related conversation with his neighbour. A rustle of fabric behind me announces the arrival of the bride, a look of frustration on her face.

She greets the table politely before whispering “Can I borrow ye, Claire?”

I make my excuses and follow her into a quieter room.

“What’s up, Geillis? Is everything alright?” I’m concerned that there’s something genuinely wrong.

“It’s his bloody family,” she hisses. “The Mackenzies, if ye give them an inch, they’ll take a fuckin’ mile.”

She takes a deep breath and continues. “Dougal invited his second cousin Gary and his wife tae our evening do. Jes’ the two of them mind. Sae they turn up an hour and a half early and try tae cadge dessert and brandies from the waiters.”

“Where are they now?”

“Och, they’re sitting outside wi’ a couple of spare bottles of wine.” She gestures angrily to the gardens visible through the window. “And they’ll be first in the queue fer the buffet this evening, nae doubt. And what's more, they took it upon themselves tae bring their three bairns too. Weel, I say bairns, but they’re all in their twenties so it’s no’ as if they dinna have a babysitter.”

She finally sits down and lets her shoulders relax.

I take her hand and try to look serious. If this is the worst thing that happens today, that’s not so bad. Although clearly, in Geillis’ eyes, this is a catastrophe. “It’s not going to spoil anything really is it? They didn’t gatecrash the meal or the speeches,” I speak in a soothing tone. “Are you ok now?”

She nods. “Happen ye’re right. I jes’ wanted tae get it off ma chest. And I kent what I was getting in tae wi’ his family. But tae drag Gregory, Alicia and Laoghaire uninvited wi’ them jes’ pisses me off.”

I stare at her. “Laoghaire? Laoghaire Mackenzie?”

“Aye, that’s right. Unusual name, is it no’? Ye dinna find many of them around—thank god.”

[hellflame-for-a-reason]

Ingenium Fracta

Chapter three: Fear and pain

Tw: funerals, doctors, suffocation, nightmares.

"Dear friends and family, we are gathered here to celebrate the life of Iida Tenya; honoured friend, beloved son and brother. He was a good young man, taken from us too soon. Tenya was a model student and a perfect future hero, who was taken from us by an event none could see happen. It's safe to say that he's in a better place now, he's-"

There had been a funeral, the entire class had shown up. No one really spoke, it was nice catching up with Tensei he supposed, but the fact that it was at a funeral for the poor man's brother really put a damper on things. Aizawa had never felt more guilty for anything in his life, he couldn't believe he'd let a student die like that, how could he be a teacher now?

They never even found the body, Aizawa figured it was because Iida had been fighting Shigaraki at the time. That poor boy, Aizawa couldn't imagine what his family was going through. Class 1-A had completely refused to vote in a new class president, seeming offended at the very idea. Aizawa couldn't blame them at all and he managed to get Nezu to agree that the class would be fine with only a vice president. It was going to be a bit difficult for poor Momo but she was adamant she could manage, replacing Iida would be an insult.

Recently, Aizawa had found himself having regular nightmares about losing more students. It was one of those nights where Hizashi found him, he didn't know where Hizashi had been but he didn't really care. All that mattered to Aizawa was that his loving husband was now holding him gently, "Sho? What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?" He nodded in response and was suddenly lifted up and placed onto Hizashi's lap, a hand combing through his hair, "it's ok babe, it wasn't real, it's just a nightmare."

"I dreamt I lost more students…"

"Oh Shouta…" Hizashi kissed the top of his head, "it isn't your fault, it never was. You couldn't have known the villains would be there, no one could."

"But…" he was crying now, "I'm supposed to be their teacher, Hizashi, I'm supposed to be a hero!"

"You are a hero! You're EraserHead! Those kids adore you Sho! And they don't hold a single thing against you, please don't hold it against yourself." He was brushing Aizawa's hair now, making sure to be careful of all the knots and tangles. Aizawa had no idea where he found such a perfect husband, he certainly didn't deserve someone so loving. "You did everything you could, but you had to watch the whole class, it's understandable that one slipped through the cracks."

It was silent for a bit after that, Aizawa just sat there trying to process Hizashi's words as the husband in question continued to brush his hair- he was braiding it now. It was very bad when Aizawa couldn't sleep, he usually slept through everything, his thoughts had to be incredibly bad if they were keeping him awake. The guilt that followed losing a student was more than enough though, not only that but it had been the class president, it had been Tenya Iida, Aizawa used to be in the same class as Tensei; the guy was the sweetest, most caring hero they had in their class. It really showed when he saw how Tenya behaved with class 1-A, everything he did reminded Aizawa of Tensei, but now seeing Tensei's face at the funeral, Aizawa had only seen Tenya. What a horrific way for the tables to turn.

The Iida's were a proud family, with a long and incredible lineage; they'd been doing good for people before quirks even evolved. Aizawa had always known them to be a little stuck up in their attitudes, Tensei being the clear outlier- the more he'd seen of Tenya, the more he realised both the Iida brothers were outliers. The funeral had been the first time he'd ever seen any of the Iida's cry- well except from Tenya, who had cried when the hero killer had hurt Tensei and was now unable to cry at all, or even feel emotions. Aizawa couldn't blame Iida's parents for crying; their baby had just died after all. They'd had one hell of a year, first Tensei's legs and now their youngest son.

A child had died. That was the hardest part for Aizawa to cope with; the fact that a child, barely 16, had died due to his failings as both a teacher and a hero. The civilians that had been on the same floor had praised Iida, commenting that they had felt safe around the next Ingenium. They told everyone about how cool and composed he had been when instructing them to evacuate and then one even mentioned him running in to disarm the villain. Aizawa honestly couldn't have been prouder of the kid, Iida had been the perfect picture of a model hero. That's what it was all about, saving and protecting the public. That was why Aizawa was a failure; he couldn't even save one child.

Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do now. It was too late to save him. So all Aizawa and everyone else could hope to do was move on and grow from it, he had argued with Nezu for the fourth time about getting his class a specialist councillor and he'd finally agreed to it, saying he'd look for one. His kids really needed it, Aizawa could well imagine how the death of a classmate felt to them, and it wasn't any classmate either; it was their beloved class president. When the news was broken to them, Aizawa had even seen Mineta and Bakugou shedding tears, and neither of them were even friends with Iida.

It was safe to say that everyone would miss the boy greatly, Aizawa didn't even like calling him a boy; Tenya Iida had proven himself more of a man then Aizawa was. The hero course favoured the flashy and the violent, but true heroes like Iida were really overlooked. Aizawa would make sure to praise the model students he had in the future, he shouldn't waste so.much time with the problem children. There should be a balance; heroes are supposed to be the protectors, but who protects the heroes? Aizawa would've liked to say it was him, but clearly he was lacking in that department.

-

Black smoke, filling his lungs, stealing his air. He was choking, he was on the floor. He'd been asked to revv his engines, to show what they could do, now he was choking on his own exhaust fumes. He was on the floor, when did he fall to the floor? There was yelling all around him and he wasn't sure what was going on in the slightest. He felt his consciousness slipping away from him as he gasped for air, his eyes were shut tight but he could feel the tears running down his face. He finally lost consciousness as he heard one of the men yelling, "get both! Just in case!"

When he came to, he was laying in a bed. Judging by the room it was probably Toga's bed, the mattress was so soft and the aching feeling in his legs didn't feel so bad when he lay there. He was surrounded by Toga, the burnt man and three men Tenya hadn't met yet. One man was wearing a full body suit, in blacks and greys, the second man was clearly just a mechanic, the third being a doctor, both the two regular men were clearly being held at gunpoint. Tenya had the vague idea that this was illegal, but he was too tired to think much of it.

"Are you alright kid?" The burnt man asked, putting a hand on the bed frame, "apparently part of your engine got disconnected and we had to get a doctor and a mechanic to fix it for you."

"Oh," Tenya paused, he hadn't considered the fact that bring trapped under rubble would affect his engines, although to be fair, he didn't really understand how his engines worked- or at least he'd forgotten, "well they do kind of ache…"

The doctor nodded, "that'd be the stitches, they'll ache for a little while but they should degrade on their own… can I go home now?" The mechanic looked just as desperate to leave as the doctor, and both men were led downstairs by the man in the catsuit.

Toga sat on the bed next to him, "normally I like seeing boys all injured like that, but that was really scary- there wasn't even any blood!" She frowned at him, "are you sure you're alright? I don't want my new friend dying on me!"

"I'm fine, don't worry. I'm from very hardy stock."

The burnt man raised an eyebrow at that, "do you remember what stock? Recall any family members?"

"Hmm…" unfortunately Tenya still couldn't remember anything about his family outside of his last name, "still no, my apologies."

"Don't apologize kid, they abandoned you too didn't they? Didn't even care that their kid 'died', only about those poor, defenseless heroes."

"Yeah!" Toga added, frowning, "those meanie heros left you to die! You shouldn't care about them!"

Tenya nodded, that made sense to him. The thought of people calling themselves heroes leaving someone to die in a wreckage made his blood boil- he hoped that didn't translate to his engine, he didn't want to put any strain on it at the moment. Instead he just watched them leave the room, and he settled down for a nap; he may as well use Toga's bed whilst he had it.

Dispite Kurogiri's concern, Tenya had ended up moving into Toga's room anyway; they were the only ones close enough in age and since Tenya was gay and Toga already had a crush, the adults figured it would be fine. Tenya had been happy to help the burnt man, who Tenya later found out was named Dabi, set up his bed. Kurogiri even bought him an Ingenium poster, which Tenya found off because he could have sworn that *he* was Ingenium… but nevertheless, Tenya found it very nice of him, he hadn't been expecting that. The man known as Twice somehow managed to get him a new pair of glasses as his last pair had been broken, he'd also bought Tenya some bedsheets and pillow covers, as well as many books to help Tenya keep up with his studies.

In fact, Tenya was studying when Toga looked over at his book, "whatcha doin'?"

"I'm reading about algebra, see?" He showed her the notebook he was trying the questions in, "it's like maths but there's letters! It's rather fun!"

"Why would there be letters in maths? That doesn't make any sense!"

He chuckled at that, shuffling to the side so she could get on the bed with him, "oh it's easy when you think about it, come on; I'll show you." He put his bookmark in the book and flipped back a few chapters, understanding that Toga would probably need something a little easier.

"Let's try something simple, okay?" He smiled at her, beginning to write the question down when she nodded. "So let's say that A means one, and B means two, what would A plus B make?" He wrote the question down as he said it, making sure it was clear.

She nodded slowly, taking the pen from Tenya as she slowly wrote down the answer, at least she understood basic maths- although her handwriting was terrible. "Is it three? Or do I have to write down another number?"

"Well technically you're right, unfortunately the rules of algebra dictate that the answer would be AB."

Toga proceeded to look at Tenya like he was a moron, "so it's not even numbers? Why is it still maths?"

He sighed, unsure of how to explain it to her, "well you've got to figure out how to shorten the question I suppose, it doesn't entirely make sense- but that's what makes it so fun!" He smiled, knowing there was no point in explain it to her, she hadn't finished middle school so there wasn't much of a chance of her grasping algebra.

"You're so weird Ten-chan! Stick to liking murder like the rest of us!" She giggled, they both knew there was no malice behind that, her genuine smile showed that. Toga got off of the bed and went back to her own, toying with her knife. "Do you want to talk about Izuku?"

"Who?" Tenya didn't think he'd ever heard that name before, but he had a funny feeling of deja vu from it.

"Huh?" Toga was once again looking at Tenya like he was stupid, "you know? Green hair, freckles? Sometimes goes by Deku? Izuku Midoriya?"

A gasp, "Midoriya?" Tenya knew Midoriya, he loved Midoriya! Midoriya was his best friend, was Izuku his first name? Tenya felt a little guilty that he didn't know his best friend's full name, or even how he looked. To be fair though, he did have memory issues, so he couldn't be blamed really.

"Yeah! That's Izuku's last name! You wanna talk about him?"

"Of course I want to talk about Midoriya! He's my best friend!"

Toga giggled, taking out her phone and beginning to show him the photos she'd taken. They were photos of Midoriya, Tenya instantly recognized him, despite not remembering his face. The fear on his face in every photo was particularly familiar, and Tenya found himself having flashes of an image in his head, of nothing but pure worry and stress on Midoriya's face. Toga snapped him back to reality, beaming happily, "isn't he cute??"

Tenya had to nod at that, "his hair is very fluffy, and I like his freckles." He did agree with Toga, Midoriya was a lot more adorable than Tenya had expected. This was his best friend? Oh Tenya must be the best at making friends then, to befriend someone so pretty.

"I know, right? I like him best when he's covered in blood!"

"Why?"

A moment of silence and Toga paused, "I don't know, just think he's attractive," she shrugged, clearly not having a real answer. Tenya didn't really mind, he was just curious, he didn't actually care either way.

[saeyoungs-sunflower]

(HC) RFA + MC in Quarantine

Listen lads, this is just a silly I wrote this the other day (I may have been a little but tipsy but shh) and I thought I might as well share it. I hope this cheers some of you up during such a scary time <3

***

Yoosung:

★ okay this is gonna sound obvious

★ but bare with

★ G A M E S

★ but!!! not just LOLOL!! oh no no!

★ i’m talking board games, PC games, active games like tag and hide and seek

★ you guys basically act like children how are you surviving on your own

★ you guys also do LOADS of cooking

★ like so much

★ you’re baking like one cake a day pls slow down

★ ngl you guys are thriving staying home all the time lol

★ if Yoosung has online classes, you set up a study club!

★ he does his college work whilst you do whatever work you gotta do boo love that tEAMWORK

★ honestly you guys have never been so productive oop

Zen:

❤︎ oh boy

❤︎ be prepared to be SMOTHERED in love

❤︎ zen i love you too but pls i have stuff to do

❤︎ m o v i e  n i g h t s

❤︎ f a c e  m a s k s

❤︎ there are so many movies/tv series that you guys have been waiting to watch together but haven't had time to bc of zen’s work

❤︎ big sad :(

❤︎ BUT GUESS WHAT FAM

❤︎ WORK IS CANCELLED TIME TO SNUGGLE DOWN AND WATCH SOME DAMN CINEMA

❤︎ it usually turns into make out sessions but shh nobody has to know

❤︎ Zen kinda discovered that you guys c a n n o t cook

❤︎ so!!! you learn!!!

❤︎ it’s MESSY y’all

❤︎ “aw mc you look so cute with flour on your nose” throws flour at your face “zen i sWeaR tO GoD I just wanna make b r e ad leave me ALONE”

 ❤︎ quality couple time <3

Jaehee:

☞  lets get down to business

☞ to defeat

☞ THE H A N

☞ lol JK

☞ seriously the house has never been cleaner

☞ obvs your cafe isn't open so y’all have some time on your hands

☞ one day Jaehee suggests gardening

☞ oh man

☞ it escalated

☞ gardening has now become an OBSESSION

☞ honestly you couldn't find a prettier garden on pinterest swear down

☞ you also decided to renovate the house you’ve been meaning to do it but have never had the time

☞ your house is now a work of art wow proud of you guys <333

☞ tbh, Jaehee actually has a small fear of getting sick/you getting sick so you guys are only leaving the house if it is a b s o l u t e l y necessary

Jumin:

♚ nobody talk about the bad ending

♚ i said don’t…

♚ he’s be waiting for this moment who needs a cage when you have a national lockdown

♚ all jokes aside though this man still has to work from home

♚ poor bby

♚ let us all shed a tear for Jumin Han

♚ you love to bring him tea and homemade baked goods whilst he works and guess what??? so does he lol

♚ it is time

♚ to D A N C E

♚ this man is so extra oml

♚ insists on taking online ballroom dance lessons bc why not MC hmmm???

♚ he is actually a very good dancer

♚ once you guys get good enough it turns into spontaneous ballroom dancing in the kitchen whilst you clean up after dinner

♚ wine??? wine did you say??? W I N E???

♚ oh b o y

♚ you've seen each other tipsy before, and lemme tell ya it takes a lot to get this man drunk

♚ his tolerance is so high from all the w i n e

♚ but one night you two get absolutely HAMMERED like oh my God guys calm down pls

♚ rip your liver lmao

♚ it makes for a v e r y funny evening though you guys have literal tears in your eyes and its so nice to see the mighty Jumin Han loosen up a little aw bless

Saeyoung:

☀︎ okay

☀︎ listen

☀︎ this man is absolutely out of control i can’t

☀︎ you thought he was a prankster before???? oh man i am so sorry

☀︎ “saeyoung why is there a balloon above saeran’s door” “don’t worry bout it babe” “i am WORRYING SAEYOUNG”

☀︎ on a serious note though being stuck in the house does sometimes bring back some bad memories for him

☀︎ there are some bad days where he just n e e d s to get out

☀︎ so you sometimes go out for a quick drive in some desert place ya know let’s be sensible

☀︎ you guys have also made a habit of climbing to the roof and watching the stars aw

☀︎ you’ve also both fallen a sleep there a few times oopsy daisy

☀︎ the memes are the only thing getting you guys through at this point it’s a problem

☀︎ but you are loving the quality time with your choi boys so it’s not all bad <3

☀︎ family snuggles are a must

☀︎ a M U S T

☀︎ the desired s n u g g l e position is you sat on Saeyoung’s lap, your legs draped over Saeran’s lap and Saeran’s head resting on Saeyoung’s shoulder AW

☀︎ sometimes you hold Saeran’s hand whilst he’s asleep bc your edgy boi needs love but wont ask for it ever

V:

❁ first of all

❁ a w

❁ this man is the sweetest peach

❁ he makes so many cute things for you whilst you guys are in lockdown

❁ i mean he’s writing letters, knitting you scarves, painting you pictures the whole shebang

❁ he even made you a pyjamas

❁ he’s sewing guys he’s out of control

❁ if your working/reading/just having a quiet moment he will sketch you

❁ you wouldn't know it though bc he’s a s n e a k y bastard

❁ he’s never filled a sketchbook so fast and it’s his most treasured possession

❁ a book!!! filled with YOU!!!!! amazing!!!!!!

❁ wait, did you hear that????

❁ oh yeah

❁ ITS ARTS AND CRAFTS TIME

❁ actual children

❁ even if what you make is terrible its just so fun because you're doing it together

❁ brb just crying my eyes out i love this man so much

❁ you guys also make care packages and do the grocery shopping for the elderly/at risk people in your area and deliver it for them AND sewing scrubs/masks for doctors

❁ “I don’t want to stay inside doing nothing all the time when there are people who need help” THIS MAN IS TOO MUCH

Saeran:

☽ i hope you're ready for this grumpy motherfucker

☽ he never went outside anyway but now that he cant go out it sounds like the best thing in the world saeran pls

☽ ah yes it is time to wake up

☽ oh it’s 4pm?????

☽ HA who needs a sleep schedule anyway

☽ also Saeyoung is not the only twin with the Mischief Gene™

☽ oh no no no

☽ you two team up and absolutely destroy him

☽ i am so sorry Saeyoung but you had this coming

☽ when Saeran says that he wants to learn an instrument you are GOBSMACKED

☽ HELL Y E S

☽ he orders a keyboard and omg he’s such a fast learner

☽ probs from all the years of hacking ouch

☽ do i smell??? A FAMILY BAND?????

☽ you and Saeyoung play kazoo

☽ Saeran has left the chat

☽ seriously though his piano playing is so pretty and it calms him down so much ughhh PRECIOUS TOMATO BOI

***

This is so chaotic hahahah I hope you enjoyed though. If people liked it I’ll do some more silly things like this. It was a nice break from...the other stuff I’m writing...hint hint watch this space ;)

Masterlist

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch42: Maybe Baby Part 1- I Made That

Intro: Katie and Emmy both meet a new friend, and Tony and Pepper welcome their baby girl to the world. As the family enjoy the happiness the new addition brings, it leads Steve and Katie to a big decision of their own…

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut! (NSFW) No under 18s. Teeth rotting fluff…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 41 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

May 2019

“Come on, Emmy, throw me a bone here!” Katie sighed as she sat in the chair of the coffee shop. “I can’t do anything about it if I don’t know what’s wrong.” She paused and rolled her eyes. “Jesus I sound like Steve.”

Emmy sighed and looked out of the window. “Why do I have to go back?”

“Because.” Katie said, rubbing at her temple “Look, you’ve already been out of school for like nearly a year, and it’s only for a couple of months and then it’s gonna be summer.” “So what’s the point of going then?” Emmy persisted. “Can’t I just wait and go back in September?”

Katie let out a groan, dropped her head into her hands before she heard a soft chuckle. She looked up to see the woman who was behind the counter had come across to clear away the empty mugs on the table. “She sounds just like my daughter.” The red haired lady smiled. “Nothing but back chat.” “I thought a hot chocolate and a muffin would help.” Katie side eyed her foster daughter. “Clearly I was wrong.”

Emmy scowled at her in response.

“The Decimation screwed a lot of things up” The woman sighed. “Tell me about it.” Katie breathed out. At that point the woman was joined by a girl who was the spitting image of her, Katie assuming it to be her daughter.

“Oh.Em.Gee!” The girl spluttered, looking at Katie “You’re Katie Stark, I mean Rogers!”

Katie grimaced and glanced around the shop. There were only three other people in and as they looked over she let out a relieved noise as they simply nodded to her and turned back to their drinks. “Brooke!” The woman chastised before giving Katie an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, you’re clearly here for a quiet drink and-” “It’s fine.” Katie hastily said, glancing at Emmy who was looking at the girl, frowning.

The woman looked at her daughter before she glanced at Katie, then to Emmy. “Brooke here goes to MS in Brooklyn.” she offered suddenly.

“What’s MS?” Emmy looked at Brooke.

“The Maths and Science Exploratory School.” Brooke nodded. “It’s really cool. Before the err…well, before they used to do all sortsa stuff…” “Brooke, why don’t you take Emmy into the back and show her some of your work and the website?” the woman offered “If that’s ok with you.” She looked to Katie. “Fine by me, what do you think Em?” Katie asked.

Emmy gave a nonchalant shrug. “Whatever.” “Manners!” Katie looked at her sternly. Emmy had the good grace to look a bit abashed when she stood up and turned to Brooke.

“Sorry, yeah I’d like to see.”

Katie watched her go before she looked at the woman “Thank you.” The lady smiled and nodded to Katie’s mug “Refil?” “Please.”

“Coming right up.”

Katie leaned back on the comfy sofa and pulled out her phone. She had a message from Steve, asking her how it was going. She responded with three words ‘Fucking hard work’ before she slid her phone away as the woman came back with two mugs.

“Mind if I join you? Might as well take a break whilst we’re quiet.”

“No, of course not.” Katie gestured with her hands and the woman took a seat on the chair at the other side of the table.

“I’m Jennifer by the way.” She held out her hand “I own this place.” “Nice to meet you.” Katie smiled “I would introduce myself but…”

“My loud mouth daughter did it for you.” Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn’t sure she would recognise you and I didn’t want to draw attention to you by warning her not to say anything…”

“Don’t worry about it” Katie shook her head “I mean it’s not like my identity is a secret. It’s just not everyone is particularly pleased to see us now-a-days. They seem to flip from either thanking us all for our efforts or screaming at us that it’s all our fault.”

“People are idiots.” Jennifer said simply “Anyone who blames you guys for any of this needs to get a check of themselves.” Katie smiled, sipping at her coffee “You know this is a really good roast. I’ll have to tip Steve off about it, he’s a coffee fiend.”

Jennifer smiled and then she looked over to the counter before glancing back “So, sorry for being nosey but I know you didn’t have a kid before, well, you know.” “Oh, she’s fostered.” Katie smiled. “I’ve known her since she was eighteen months old and she lost her last foster carers in the snap. We took her in for a night and she never left.”

“That’s good of you.” Jennifer smiled

“Least we could do.” Katie glanced at her coffee “When I look round and see what others lost, it brings it home to me how lucky I was, you know. I mean don’t get me wrong we lost people we cared about, a great deal. But my brother, my family, my husband, all still alive.”

Katie trailed off and thought to their baby. It had struck her on the first anniversary of the snap a few weeks earlier that their baby would have been with them now. Either a boy or a girl, blue or green eyes, blonde or dark, they’d never know.

“You can’t think like that.” Jennifer shook her head. “It doesn’t matter who you didn’t lose, you still lost. Hell, everyone lost, and everyone hurts, regardless of whether it was 1 person or 10. It doesn’t feel any less shit.” “You lost someone?” Katie looked at her.

“My dad.” Jennifer looked at her hands “My mom died a few years back and my husband was killed in Afghanistan not long after Brooke was born. So now it’s just us” “Sorry.” Katie bowed her head as the woman wiped at her eyes “I didn’t mean to…” Jennifer waved away her apology and smiled “Don’t be. It is what it is.” At that point the two girls came back into the main part of the shop, and Emmy was clutching a pile of paper.

“We printed some info off, mom.” Brooke said, “So Emmy can read it later. And we exchanged numbers, so she can text me later if she has questions and stuff.” “Good thinking!” Jennifer smiled.

“Right, you ready to go?” Katie looked at Emmy. “Steve’s cooking so we should go make sure he hasn’t burnt the compound down.”

“You live in the Avengers Compound?” Brooke looked at Emmy, wide eyed “Man that’s awesome.” Emmy smiled before she looked at Katie “What’s Steve-o making?”

“I think he said he was doing carbonara.” “Oh, that was good last time he cooked it.” Katie smiled, pulling on her jacket. “Yeah, it was actually.” She stood up and smiled at Jennifer. “It was really nice to meet you.” She reached into her bag for a twenty to pay but Jennifer waved it away “On the house.” “Oh, no.” Katie protested, dropping the twenty to the table, but the woman picked it up and handed it back. Pursing her lips, Katie spotted the tip jar on the counter and quickly strode over to it, depositing the note through the slot before giving the woman a smug look. Jennifer laughed and shrugged before she reached over the counter and handed Katie a business card.

“My mobile number is on there.” She smiled, “If you ever fancy a chat or a drink some time, anything at all.” “Thanks” Katie beamed. “That’s really kind of you.”

“Bye!” Emmy waved as they exited the shop. She turned to Katie as they walked to the car. “They’re nice.” “Yeah, yeah they are.” Kate smiled “Come on, let’s get home before we’re late and we get the eyebrow of disappointment.”

****** The last week in May brought some unusually cold and wet weather for the time of year, which wasn’t surprising as the climate was still all over the place. It was normally the time of year they celebrated Tony’s birthday on the 29th with a BBQ or something, but there was none of that this time. Not least because of the weather, but more over that his birthday was overshadowed spectacularly by the arrival of his daughter, Morgan Hope Stark some four days earlier on the 25th.

“Guys.” Katie gulped, tears welling in her eyes as her baby niece gently stirred in her arms, her eyes not opening as she moved her hands gently, “She’s…” “Amazing, I know.” Pepper gushed beaming up at Katie from where she was sat, propped up in the hospital bed.

“I made that.” Tony bragged, his chest puffed out. Katie knew how genuinely proud he was simply by the affectionate gleam in his eyes. Pepper rolled her eyes playfully, sharing a look with her sister-in-law.  

Steve’s arm curled round Katie’s waist as he gazed down at the baby in her arms, smiling gently as he smoothed the blanket down to get a closer look. She had a light dusting of dark hair, Tony’s cheekbones and Pepper’s nose.

“Wanna hold Uncle Steve?” Katie asked, looking at him.

“Erm, yeah, sure, that ok?” Steve looked at Pepper and Tony.

“Just don’t drop her.” Tony narrowed his eyes “Or throw her, she’s not a shield.” “Tony, you’re such a dick.” Katie sighed, passing the precious bundle to Steve who gently took her, supporting her head with his large hand.

As Steve cradled the tiny baby in his large arms, filled with wonder at the miniature human he was holding, he suddenly felt a lump in his throat. 

This would have been them.

As Morgan curled her hand around his large index finger the lump grew larger and he fought to keep the tears that had sprung into his eyes from dropping down his cheeks. 

Across the room, Tony curled his arm round his sister’s shoulder and dropped a kiss to her head as she wiped away the single tear that she herself had shed hastily before Steve saw.

Steve collected Emmy later that evening from Brooke’s. Emmy had decided to go to MS after all, and as such the two girls had fast become inseparable during the week and often at weekends too.

“She’s been ever so well behaved and polite.” Jennifer smiled, handing Steve Emmy’s rucksack. Steve nodded and gently placed a large hand on the back of Emmy’s head

“Good.”

“Gerroff.” she shrugged him away “I’m not six.” Steve rolled his eyes as he looked at Jennifer and raised an eyebrow “Clearly just us she gives back chat to.”

Jennifer chuckled “And they say it’s gonna get worse as they get older” “I can’t wait!” Steve replied, sarcastically. The woman laughed, Steve thanked her again and they headed to the car.

“So what’s Morgan like?” Emmy asked as Steve set off back up the main road to head out of Manhattan and towards the Compound. “Does she look like Tony?”

“A little, more like Pepper really.” Steve smiled

“Phew.” Emmy grinned and Steve gave a snort.

“Katie got some photos so she’ll show you when we get home.” Emmy glanced out of the window at the passing trees before she turned back to Steve “Do you think you and Katie will ever have a baby?” Steve’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel as he took a deep breath, and he instantly regretted it when he felt Emmy recoil in the seat next to him.

“I’m sorry.” she began, and Steve cursed himself for being so damned easy to read. He hated it when she got scared and fearful that she’d done something wrong. Every time they tried to discipline her for misbehaviour she would end up trembling out of deep rooted fear she was going to get a beating.

“Sweetie, I’m not mad, and you have nothing to be sorry for.” Steve sighed, “It’s just, well,” he bit his lip “,in the Snap, Katie and I lost a baby. Katie, was pregnant and we didn’t know.” “Oh.” Emmy frowned, looking back at her hands “That’s sad.” “Yeah.” Steve said with a small smile. The simple words she had used were spot on, there was no other way to describe it. “Yeah it is. But, we got you to look after and you can throw some spectacular tantrums so it’s kinda like having a baby in a way.”

“Rude.” Emmy glared at him, and he couldn’t hide the smile on his face at her indignation.

The two of them arrived home to Katie declaring from her spot on the sofa that she didn’t want to cook so had ordered take-out Pizza much to Emmy’s delight, but one look at his wife told Steve she’d been crying. As soon as their foster daughter was out of earshot and had gone to her room he sat down next to her and turned to face her.

“What’s wrong, Sweetheart?”

“I’m fine.” She shrugged, and Steve quirked an eyebrow.

“You forget Mrs Rogers, I can read you like a book.” He snaked his fingers in between hers and she took a deep breath “Talk to me, honey.”

“Just seeing you there with Morgan before, I couldn’t help but feel that…” she stumbled over her words as her tears began to form again “That could have, should have been us, you know?” Steve sighed and gently reached out to her, pulling her to his chest.

“I know.” He whispered softly, dropping kiss to her head “I know.”

“They would have been coming up for six months old now, give or take.” Katie sighed gently and his arms tightened around her. Taking a deep breath he decided to voice what was on his mind and dropped his head slightly, nudging her face up with his nose.

“You know, we could always…” He trailed off, and she licked her lips as she looked at him, understanding immediately what he was suggesting.

“I dunno.” She sighed, “I mean I like the idea, but…” “But?”

“I’m scared, Steve.” “What of?” “Well, that something will go wrong.”

“Why would it go wrong?” he frowned.

“It did last time.”

He sighed. “Katie, nothing you could have done would have made a difference. Once he snapped…”

“Do you really want kids?” She cut him off, looking at him.

“Yeah, I do.” He answered honestly “I wasn’t that bothered about it before but now, well with Emmy being here and Morgan, the thought of our own child, running around, one that’s half me half you…I can’t even begin to explain how amazing that feels.” Katie looked down at her hands and Steve took a deep breath. “But if it’s not what you want then it doesn’t matter” He gently titled her face up to look at him.

She looked at him, her eyes locked onto his and her words were almost a whisper. “I do want. I want a baby with you.” His eyes flashed and he gave a grin. “Well that’s good, I’d be worried if you wanted one with someone else.” “Jerk.” She scoffed, hitting his chest as he laughed before she took a deep breath “Maybe we could like try but not try.” “I’m not following.” Steve frowned.

Katie sighed. “I don’t wanna get hung up on it.” She shrugged “No pressure. So maybe not try as such, just don’t try to stop anything.”

Steve smiled, if he was honest, a baby to him should be borne out of love and not some kind of weird planned parenting mission. 

“Is that ok with you?” she looked at him. “Oh, Kitten.” Steve’s face split into a huge grin and he took her face in both his hands “It is very, very ok.”

******

August 2019

“Thor came here?” Katie asked as she looked at Tony, the two of them sat on his porch. Katie was bouncing Morgan on her knee whilst Emmy was busy helping Pepper feed Gerald, Tony’s newest addition, an Alpaca.

“Yup.” Tony nodded “He came to see Morgan. He’s errr, changed.” “Changed?”

“Yeah, erm, he’s a little bit portly.”

“Portly?” Katie stopped what she was doing until Morgan let out a screech, encouraging her to continue. “As in…” “Fat.” Tony nodded.

Katie snorted “Bullshit…” “Straight up Kiddo. Apparently he’s got his brewers working on a new beer. Clearly been sampling it a little too much.”

“Other than that how did he seem?” Katie asked. Despite herself she couldn’t help but wonder how the man she had once been good friends with was holding up. Tony took a deep breath “Ok, I think. I mean it was a surprise him showing up. I haven’t seen him since, well, that day at the compound.” “He took what happened really hard” Katie sighed. “But the rest of us had to move on, he needs to do the same. I tried to talk sense into him…” “You punched him in the face.” Tony raised an eyebrow. “He deserved it.” “I know.” Tony paused “And for what it’s worth, he hates himself for it. He told me.” “Well maybe he should apologise.” Katie shrugged, and that was the end of the conversation. They stayed for a few hours before heading back to the compound and, given that it was a nice night Katie and Natasha retired to the large garden area and the hot tub for a girl’s night in.

“You talk to Steve today?” Nat asked, pouring Katie a glass of wine from the ice bucket at the side.

“Not yet.” Katie shook her head, turning from where she had been watching Emmy playing fetch with Lucky to look at her “I’ll speak to him later. He’s ready for home though. Keeps moaning about how the chef doesn’t make Mac and Cheese as well as me.”

“He loves it really.” Nat grinned.

“Yeah, he does.” Katie smiled “It’s nice to see him so focussed, you know with something to do.”

“When’s he back? Feels like he’s been gone for ages”

“He has, it’s been almost three weeks this time” Katie smiled, “But he’s home in a couple of days and on that I got a favour to ask. Could you maybe have Emmy for us? Thought we might go out or…” “Or stay in?” Nat raised her eyebrows, smirking.

“Something like that.” Katie snorted.

“Yeah, no probs. We can have a girl’s night in my apartment.” She nodded over to the pre-teen who was running across the lawns. “She’s never any trouble.” “Thanks Nat.” Katie smiled, sipping her wine and pulling a face at the sour taste.

“How’s she been recently?” Nat nodded to Emmy.

“Good.” Katie nodded. “The nightmares have pretty much stopped. She still gets a bit reserved now and then but I think getting her back to school has helped a lot. She’s a bright kid, good at art as well as the technology and science. Should see her and Steve when they get going.”

“Yeah they seem pretty close.” Nat smiled.

“She’s like his shadow when he’s here.” Katie snorted. “I don’t get a look in.” She took another sip of her drink and shook her head. “Does that taste right to you?”

“It tastes fine, but then so did that Tuna you said was off.” “It was off.” Kate grimaced, nodding to the dog that was currently splashing in the shallows of the river, after his ball “Even Lucky wouldn’t eat it.”

“Well I ate it and I’m fine” Nat shrugged.

Katie took another sip shook her face before tipping her wine into Nat’s glass “I can’t drink that. It’s nasty.” “Errr, that is a fifteen year old vintage, stolen from Tony’s old stash in the cellar!” Natasha grinned.

“Don’t give a fuck what it is, it’s gross.” Katie shrugged, standing up and stepping out of the tub. “I’ll stick to the beer.”

She pulled a Bud out of the fridge, twisted the top off and threw it into the garbage. She took a swig as she walked back outside and, as she sank back down into the water, Nat took a deep breath and leaned forward.

“I got an email from Rhodey. More bodies have turned up, this time in Johannesburg, some drugs baron and his cronies.” “Clint?” Katie asked, pausing her beer half way to her mouth as she nodded.

“It’s his MO.”

Over the past six months more and more bodies had been turning up, along with numerous witnesses, which led them to the conclusion that Clint was acting as some kind of vigilante, hunting down Crime Lord Syndicates and taking them down one by one. Natasha at first had point blank refused that it was him, until one of Rhodey’s contacts had sent an extremely clear shot from some CCTV footage. There was no denying, it was Clint. Natasha had been heartbroken, locking herself away and refusing to speak to anyone, emerging only when Steve threatened to kick her door in. She’d opened it, red eyed but with a glimmer of a smirk on her face and called him a “bossy, interfering bastard.”

“Any leads on where he could be?” Katie asked

Nat shook her head “he doesn’t want to be found. But then, when have I ever listened?”

They drank and talked until late in the evening, probably more than they should have done which is why the next morning Katie woke up with a killer hangover and barely made it to the toilet. She threw the contents of her stomach into the bowl before standing up, splashing cold water onto her face and heading to make sure Emmy was up and getting ready. Sometimes, being a responsible adult sucked.

Once she had managed to get Emmy packed off to the summer day-camp her School was running, she grabbed a slice of toast and an orange juice and felt ready to face walking and talking at the same time. She called Steve quickly, who wasted no time in telling her that they’d drunk called him the night before. Katie groaned as he laughed down the handset, before the conversation grew slightly more serious and he said that Rhodey had filled him in on the murders in Johannesburg. They discussed it for a while when he declared he had to go and after promising to speak to him later that evening, sober, Katie cut the call.

She headed down to the common room to find Nat was already in there.

“Hangover too?” Natasha looked at Katie pulling a face. “I feel like shit. How much did we drink?”

“Enough.” Katie sighed “You sank two bottles of that wine, I went through a full crate of bud.” “And that was before the vodka.” Nat groaned, dropping her face into her hands. Katie grimaced, picking up a bottle of water and taking a long drink before they got down to business, looking over some plans for an old School they were intending to acquire to make into a half way hours for the older teenagers that had been left without homes or families in the snap. Too old to be in an orphanage or children’s home, Natasha had pointed out they probably needed somewhere they could live independently, but safely. It was a great idea and one Katie was fully behind.

“I’ll get it typed up into a formal proposal this evening,” Katie nodded to Nat “then we can start the ball rolling. All goes according to plan we can get the Real Estator on the phone tomorrow and push ahead with the purchase”

Nat nodded. “Yeah, about that.” Katie groaned “You’re going to Johannesburg aint you?” “I have to.” 

“Nat…”

“He’d do the same for me.”

“When?” Katie sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to talk her out of it. “This evening. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“Just be careful,” Katie said, “and prepared. Chances are you won’t like what you find.”

“I know.” She said, her eyes tearing over. “But I have to try.” Katie nodded, dropping a hand to her shoulder as she picked up the files and laptop before leaving her to her thoughts.

She was sat in the office working on the proposal that evening when she heard the jet taking off. Glancing out of the window Katie watched as it shot into the grey sky and vanished behind a cloud. Emmy paused to look up from where she was outside on the lawn with Lucky before she tuned to look at Katie, mouthed the universal sign for “I’m hungry” and Katie grinned, deciding to call it quits for the night.

**** Chapter 42 Part 2